#cw: mentions of fantasy war

[soldiersgirl]

— 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 .ᐟ

summary — life had always been cruel to ben; littered with betrayals, heartbreak, guts & glory. somehow, despite it all, the one thing he thought he had lost and could never experience, turned out to be his saving grace. (inspired by this post)

cw — fem!reader x girl dad!soldier boy, 18+ (hints of sex, wrap it before u tap it) established relationship (married). soft ben, fluff, angst, kissing, daddy kink (kinda), smoking, mentions of daddy and mommy, mentions of ben's trauma and war, mentions of drug use.

word count — 2,138 words

ben couldn't count on one hand the amount of trials and tribulations he had been subjected to over his long, arduous existence, but he needed the other one to hold and keep himself anchored to you.

it had all started out innocently. much like the other members of the boys, you were indifferent to ben. but soon enough, you discovered that you two couldn't stand each other, let alone be in the same room without going at it and screaming about "the importance of having a moral backbone" while he told you to go "shove your fuckin' modern values!" in return. but as time does with most things, it eats away at anger and suddenly, after a long day at the office and going over missions, you would retreat to the roof together and share a cigarette between the two of you. words were rarely spoken, but you grew to understand each other just a little bit more with each inhale and exhale of your shared vice.

his complexity perplexed you and you found yourself wishing to understand the man under the armour. how ben had become soldier boy and lost himself along the way.

during one particular cold night, up on the flatiron building roof, he laid it all out to you. he had told hughie and butcher a few bits, here and there, but you got the full picture. all you did was nod in return, not offering any comments like others did. ben couldn't read you and it freaked him the fuck out. he had quite the knack for getting under people's skin and staying there, gnawing on their insecurities and break them down. but when you comfortingly laid your hand on his and he didn't flinch, he knew there was something about you that he possibly wouldn't find again.

within a few tough and challenging months, for both of you and the boys as a team, you and ben had turned to finding comfort in one another. each night, either at his place or yours, you would intertwine your limbs and entangle your tongues with no care for the world around you. he would get lost in your gentle mewls, your soft pleading as he would pound into you and fulfil all your dirtiest fantasies, without a second thought.

you managed to keep your... situation quiet for a while from the others, knowing that no one would approve of it; why complicate things when everything is a already a nightmare with vought and homelander? but when the boys abruptly came back from a mission and walked in on ben taking you from behind on your own desk; you knew you couldn't keep it under wraps anymore. hell broke loose. insults were hurled. computers were thrown, mainly by ben, and you were both told that it wouldn't last long. but you managed to prove them wrong; much to your own surprise.

loving ben wasn't a walk in the park. nothing about ben was ever easy. but when your fingers interlocked and he bared his soul to you, all his worst nights were worth it. the nights filled with long discussions, ingrained toxic reflexes, harsh empty words.

"you need to cut off the fucking pills, ben! i swear to god, i'm gonna flush them down the fuckin' toilet!" you yelled as you held the baggie over the toilet, shaking them, daring him to come closer.

"you're batshit! actually, insane! i should've listened to butcher when he said i shouldn't get involved with someone like you!" he pointed his finger accusingly, a deep scowl on his face.

always turned into...

"i'll never find someone like you." ben sighed as he cradled you close, your heartbeats in sync and your breaths shallow after you furiously apologise to each other. you peer up at him and caress his exhausted face, loving how he leans in and seeks your touch.

"i love you." you stated. his eyes flew open, revealing his moss-green irises as they softened at the sight of you. he exhaled as if the weight of the world fell off his shoulders and his usual scowl turned into a wide, toothy smile as he rested his forehead against yours.

"i love you too, sweetheart." he kissed the tip of your nose and nestled himself deeper into you. he loved you like he did everything else; fiercely and loudly and he was sure he could never love someone like he did you. until he met her.

for weeks and weeks, this was the moment it had all been leading up to this. the final showdown between ben and homelander. you had felt incredibly nauseous for weeks, watching ben the boys strategise and devise their attack plans. it must the anxiety, the fear of the great unknown beyond their fight. until you couldn't deny it anymore. three pregnancy tests stared back at you, the severity of the situation seeped into your bones and overtaking your senses.

you stepped out and admired ben's broad back as he pulled on his suit, buckled his knee pads and gave his shield the once over before sliding it onto his back.

"are you gonna stand there all day or am i a lucky enough of a bastard to get a kiss from my girlfriend?" he hummed before turning around and giving you that infamous smirk. his smile faltered immediately as he noticed your frail composure and the look of absolute fear etched on your face. "baby. don't be nervous about the fight, come on. don't you trust your old man?" he chuckles before dragging you in and kissing the top of your head as a gesture of reassurance. "i got the boys with me, don't i darling? they've got my back."

they definitely didn't have his back.

"when's your daddy coming, sweetheart?" the kindergarten teacher perched next to the pigtailed girl with those captivating green eyes that everyone couldn't help but compliment.

"sweetheart?" the girl giggled as she eyed the playground, waiting for her dad to appear at any moment, like mum had promised he would today. "that's mommy's name, daddy says so all the time. i'm athena!!" she flashed her toothless grin and giggled even louder.

"ah, yes. sorry, athena. i got confused!" the teacher shook her head and feigned confusion, returning the young girl's smile. as if on cue, the intimidating father figure entered the classroom and the young girl wasted no time sprinting and latching onto his leg as he lets out a low chuckle. he picks her up effortlessly and rests her on his hip as he looks apologetically at the teacher.

"i'm sorry, ma'am." his gruff voice filled the classroom which is usually filled with high-pitched laughs and soft tones. "i got.. held up at work." athena pats her father's stubbled cheeks and let out a shriek of laughter as his free hand pokes at her stomach, his eyes fully on her with a smile to match.

"mr. anderson, it was really no issue. i love spending time with athena, don't worry about it."

"ben. ben is fine." he corrects. "alright. well, say goodbye to miss smith, athena. time to go home to mommy." athena waves wildly as ben offers miss smith a curt nod before leaving the colourful classroom. miss smith couldn't help but laugh to herself; somehow the toughest man became the softest father.

the fight had taken a turn for the worst. everyone had turned on each other. chaos ensued and ben was left with no option to erupt and unleash himself on everyone. luckily, with shaking hands and a trembling voice, you had called grace mallory and begged for her help. for her to make you and ben disappear so you could start again, give him what he always yearned for a loving family. that's how you ended up in south philadelphia, ben's home state. despite his denial to face and confront his past, he knew it was something he needed to be able to become the father he wanted. the father he knew he could be. it wasn't hard to do a better job than his own father, but once he regained consciousness after the fight and you shared the news you were too scared to share before, suddenly... all of ben's betrayals, heartaches and suffering became obsolete. all that mattered was you... and her.

ben wasn't made to work under normal conditions, being in an office and stuck at a desk felt like a punishment. like a wild animal trapped in a cage. he wanted the normal life he knew he could've had if he never had become soldier boy, but no matter what, ben was a weapon before he was a man. while you and athena settled into a comfortable daily life, ben was sent on solitary missions by mallory and the CIA. it was the least he could do after the fuckfest that went down in nicaragua all those years ago, mallory had explained. it was the only way the CIA would agree to help him and his family, so he begrudgingly accepted.

you pulled a pink pyjama top over athena's wriggling form before pulling her in and giving her rushed kisses all over her soft face.

"mammaaaa!" she yelled in defiance as her giggles grew louder and pushed away at your quick, planted kisses. you pulled back, gave her a large smile and brushed her wet hair carefully after her nightly shower.

"mummy couldn't help herself. you're too cute, 'thena." you laughed in return before braiding her hair and tucking her into bed, surrounded by her army of stuffed teddy bears. the soft glow of her sunset lamp cast a warm, orange hue over her cherub face as you gazed into those eyes that you could get lost in.

"can you tell me about where i got my name again, mamma?" athena whispers into her hands, knowing it was already past her bedtime. you open your mouth to tell her no, but a gruff voice from behind interrupts you.

"daddy can do it." ben had been leaning against his daughter's door frame with folded arms and admiring the sight of the two of you, not fully believing how lucky he had gotten. he saunters in, gives you a big kiss on your lips (followed with an "eeew..." by athena) before he sits down carefully on her heart-filled bed covers and holds her tiny hand in his.

"when daddy used to be a soldier, many many years ago before he met you, daddy was in many wars. he worked hard to protect his country and he was always protected by athena. athena helped daddy when he needed to be brave and clever to get the bad people to go back home. like those fuc-." you let out a small cough. he pauses and his eyes flicker to you, as you offer him a warm smile; encouraging him to continue. you let your hand run up and down his back, relaxing him. "fudging commies." he continues. "athena was zeus' favourite daughter, like you are mine." he continues and kisses her small knuckles. "she was the wisest, bravest olympian god and she cared for people, like daddy, when daddy needed it most."

all soldiers need a war, but not the way that ben needed his little athena.

ben's smooth voice had lulled athena into a slumber, her eyes lidded and her lips in a natural pout as her head hung. ben tucked her in tightly and placed a brief kiss on her forehead as you turned off the lights.

"daddy loves both of his girls." he whispers into her hair before quietly leaving her room and joining you in the hallway.

"oh, daddy loves his girls, huh?" you wink and stretch your arms up around his neck. his hands fall naturally into place, on your hips, as you sway slightly together with identical smirks on your faces.

"if you're not careful, sweetheart, daddy will have to teach you a lesson." he gives your ass a light slap.

"how could i say no to you, daddy?" you hum as you bite your bottom lip.

"you're so fuckin' dirty. bet you've been thinking about me all day, haven't you?" he chuckles as you lead him into your joint bedroom, swiftly closing the door behind you and connecting your lips in a frenzied kiss. "daddy will take care of you, sweetheart. lay back and show daddy how much you missed him." ben mutters against your slick lips before throwing you onto your bed and climbing on top of you, his hands gliding across your form and grabbing you with a sense of urgency that you never got tired of.

after all this time, you were still into him, who you watched finally find himself amongst the chaos of his life.

a/n: in my mind, months pass between the boys finding ben and the showdown between him and homelander, rather than only a few days, so that's where this takes place. also couldn't resist writing a girldad! ben as jensen is just the best father ever <3 and still into you is my favourite lovesong ever. hope u enjoyed!

-`♡´- tag list: @bluemerakis @legalmente-loca @faiszt @vmiina @emeraldcrs @briiverse @figthoughts @sl33pylilbunny @jasvtsc @silverwoodlynx @kayleighwinchester @bejeweledinterludes @yooyieu @nperoconelcositoarriba @lanasgirlfr @velvetdandeli0n @iluvdeanwinchester @cowboysandcigarettes @daylighted @valjy @dulcescorderitas @mostlymarvelgirl @syrma-sensei (comment or inbox me to be added)

[smileysuh]

sage & stardust

🌙 starring. Kim Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “I think you’re amazing, and good with your hands, and pretty, and I enjoy spending time with you too,” he counters, echoing the entirety of your sentiment. You stare blankly up at the man. It’s clear he doesn’t know what you’re getting at. You wonder how fairies court each other- do they even court each other? Do fairies have sex? Or are they just… you don’t know, blossomed out of flower buds or something?

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, Mingyu holds y/n down by the wrists, size kink, mentions of possible bondage kink, heavy petting, worship, Mingyu is a boobs guy, nipple sucking, fingering, pussy stretching, foreplay, multiple reader orgasms, oral (f receiving), praise, dirty talk, etc… I pet names: (hers) my star. (his) Gyu.  

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 9.6k

🍭 aus. Fairy au, fantasy au, non idol. 

☀️ mlist + an. Okay, so, I’ve written sooo many fics on this blog, and lately I’ve been wanting to try things I haven’t done before. I’ve never done a legit small man fairy dude (who does become normal/large sized later) x yn in a fic before, so bare with me, because these two are such a delightfully domestic pairing. Without further adieu, I give you: blue-collar fairy Mingyu. 

Prologue

Pandora lives in a little cottage in the forest. Even though she’s young, she knows the trees and ferns, the mushrooms and flowers. Who needs mundane playthings when you have four entire acres of wilderness to keep you entertained? 

Her mother is an artist, and steady hands run in the family. Pandora spends her evenings carefully painting a dollhouse model of the cottage that her father had crafted for her in his little workshop shed outside.

All in all, it’s a peaceful existence, and things are very predictable. Mother is in the studio solarium room, fingers covered in inks and colorful spots. Father is crafting something in his shed, fixing up the house as he engages in an endless war against the elements of the forest. 

Pandora flutters around, checking in on her parents, and exploring the immediate grounds around the cottage. Today, she’s following a particularly beautiful butterfly as it glides amongst the trees down by the pond. She’s so enamored with the pretty wings, that she almost doesn’t notice the fairy ring. 

A circle of mushrooms, one she’s scouted out before, is along the bank of the murky water. Pandora has heard tales of fairies and pixies, and has been warned not to enter circles like this. She sidesteps the ring, and that’s when she notices something out of place, something that hadn’t been there yesterday.

Just outside of the little circle, is a small creature. At first glance, the glossy wings look butterfly-like, but Pandora has never seen sage green wings like these on a bug. The small child pauses, hiking up her dress and kneeling down to get a better look.

Definitely not a butterfly. Where an insect would have a thorax at the joining of wings, this creature has a tiny little man. Well, he’s bigger than a butterfly would be, but it’s clear to the young girl that she’s looking at a fairy, and as she inspects him further, she notices one of his wings is torn.

Pandora has mended butterfly wings with her father before- she knows what to do, but she’s hesitant. Should she help this small fairy, as she’s helped many bugs before him? Is he simply resting and not in immediate danger?

She looks around, noting any predators in the surrounding area. A large bird circles overhead, and Pandora decides she has to act. Reaching for a leaf, she scoops the tiny fairy's body into the greenery, carefully carrying him back toward the cottage.

As she gets there, she sees her father getting into his work truck to head to town, and Pandora knows better than to stop him. She also knows better than to go interrupt her mother, who is on a deadline for a piece and has asked not to be disturbed.

No, Pandora will have to do this rescue mission herself, and she heads into her father’s workshop to find the glue.

She does her best to be gentle, even with her pudgy fingers, as she mends the torn wing. When she’s done, Pandora finds one of the many small boxes her father has made. It’s a cedar box, with a small, iron latch.

Leaving the fairy, she goes outside, collecting a little nest of moss to put into the box.

When everything is finished, she sets the fairy into the box, carefully closing it and latching it shut. He needs some rest, and as far as the small child is concerned, he’s safer in her little box than lying in the grass where big predators might hurt him.

One:

“I’m sure it’s no surprise that your grandmother left you the cottage,” the lawyer in charge of the estate tells you as he looks over the papers on his desk. “As you are the only artist in the family, Pandora wrote that she hopes the solace will inspire, as it had inspired her, and her mother before her.”

You nod solemnly. It’s a monumental gift, one your cousins would kill you for- but alas, you’d spent the most time with your grandmother in her later days, and the solarium studio is already set up as your own. To be young, and a homeowner now- this had never been your intention in spending time with her, but perhaps it’s a happy outcome, given the dire situation of her passing.

“She also wanted me to tell you, that you can finally open the box.” The lawyer looks at you expectantly, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Do you know what she was referring to?”

“Yes,” you respond. “She’d kept this small cedar box. Her father had made it for her when she was a child. It’s on her nightstand, but she’s never opened it.”

“Well, that’s… interesting.”

“Yeah, Pandora’s Box, I know the story,” you let out a sad chuckle. “Part of me doesn’t want to open it, she always told me not to, I guess I made it this big bad thing in my head as a kid.”

“I’m sure it’s just jewelry or something of the sort,” the lawyer assures you, and you remind yourself that men of the law are never the superstitious type.

Two:

You’re a few glasses deep into your bottle of wine, and you find yourself looking at your grandmother’s small cedar box. Curiosity is getting the better of you, and liquid courage is doing wonders to calm your superstitions. 

There can’t be anything dangerous in the box, or your grandma wouldn’t have left it for you… right?

Taking a breath, you approach the box. It’s sitting on your dining room table, you’d gingerly carried it from the bedroom earlier, with the intention of opening it, and now, you will. 

You sit, staring at it for a few moments. Your hands shake when you reach for it, but you push away your anxiety. The iron latch is old and worn, but it clicks open after a bit of work. Taking another deep breath, you lift the cedar lid. 

Nothing happens, no surge of dark spirits releasing the worst of humanity, no hurricane or pestilence-

You lean forward, looking into the box, and you’re shocked by what you find there.

Half buried in a nest of mossy greens that looked like they were only picked hours ago, is a small winged man. It’s a fairy, you realize, with glossy wings-

He stirs a little, stretching his arms above his head and yawning.

How could this be? Ignoring the moss that’s apparently been preserved for over seventy years, how is this tiny creature still alive after being shut away for a lifetime?

Part of you wants to close the box, to forget about it- but then the tiny man’s eyes open, and he stares up at you. You freeze immediately, as if paralyzed, your mind going blank in the face of the supernatural.

The fairy rubs his eyes, sitting up amongst the bed of moss. His hair is all messy, but in a way that’s kind of adorable. He gazes up at you, and then, he speaks. “Hello?”

“Hi?” It comes out a question, and you’re unsure how to proceed, so you say nothing else.

“Sorry, this is embarrassing,” he laughs, and you note the way his skin has turned pink. “Did you save me?”

“As horrible as this sounds, I uh… inherited you?”

“I don’t even know what that means,” the tiny man muses. “I remember being attacked by a large bird in my realm, my wing was damaged, I made my way to a fairy ring to come to your world and recuperate, but I must have passed out.”

You consider his words for a moment. “My grandma used to fix butterfly wings, is it possible she found you and fixed yours?”

The fairy extends one of his sage appendages, inspecting it. “It definitely looks repaired… Your grandma, you said?”

“Yes.” You nod. “I was told she’d had this box since she was a girl… have you been in here for a long time?”

“I was in hibernation, the dark and the moss- it was healing, I awoke because of the light.”

“So you have been in there for years,” you conclude, shocked. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“How many years is ‘years?’ You humans have a different view of time than I do.”

“Probably seventy or eighty?” you suggest.

“It didn’t feel like that long.” He cocks his head to the side, clearly thinking, then he looks up at you again. “How long have you had me?”

“I uh…” you swallow thickly at the question. “Well, I just inherited the cottage, and my grandma left the box to me in her will too… so, only two days.”

He nods, looking down, continuing to think hard about whatever it is that fairies ponder deeply on. 

“How… how do you feel?”

“Well rested,” he smiles, breaking the look of deep concentration. “I’m ready to get back to tinkering.”

Tinkering… that definitely sounds like a fairy word, and you don’t question him further. 

“Please don’t let me stop you from getting back to your home,” you tell him. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience of my grandmother keeping you in this box all this time.”

“It’s alright,” he yawns again, then pushes himself up from the moss. He’s dressed in a little green fairy outfit, and you do your best to commit him to your memory. His wings are truly beautiful, the way they shimmer even in the electric light of your kitchen. “I remember a pond.”

“Yes, there’s one right out the back way, must be a fairy circle there,” you nod.

“Thank you for the directions,” he smiles sincerely, and then, he begins to fly. You wonder how such delicate-looking wings could carry his body weight as he heads toward your open kitchen window. He lands on the ledge there, turning to give you one final nod of farewell, and then the fairy is gone.

You sit there for a few minutes, staring after him in shock.

How much wine did you have to drink?

Three:

It’s a Thursday like any other. You’re getting used to living in this cute cottage in the woods, spending your mornings waking up with the sun, heating a kettle for tea, and letting the creative juices flow in your mind before you ease your way to the studio to paint.

It’s the end of spring, and the promise of summer warmth is looming on the horizon. 

You’re just beginning to contemplate breakfast when there’s a knock at your door, and it makes your heart freeze in your chest.

Although you might be getting somewhat accustomed to the seclusion, there are still very real dangers of being a single woman out on a large property alone in the woods, and this fact makes you hesitant as you head to your front door.

You can make out a large man through the glass, and you take a breath before peaking your head out. “Hello?”

It takes you a moment to recognize the man, as he’s substantially larger than the last time you saw him. The fairy is no longer palm-sized, instead, he’s well over six foot, and he flashes an awkward smile down at you. “Hi.”

You take in his attire, the worn jeans and the green flannel… you also note that he’s barefooted. “You’re wearing my grandpa's clothes.”

“Yeah, I uh… noticed the box in your truck, figured you might be getting rid of them anyways, so I slipped in through a crack in the window. I couldn’t just show up naked.”

Good point. “You’re big now,” you point out.

“Can I uh… can I come in?” He rubs the back of his neck nervously, surveying your front porch.

You take a breath. Part of you says this is a bad idea, but part of you is also saying that this is a fairy the size of a human man, and if you don’t hear him out, you’ll be wondering what could have been for the rest of your life.

You push your door open for him. “I just made some tea, follow me.”

The fairy’s footsteps are loud on your wooden floors as he shadows you to the kitchen. You give him your cup, pouring a second one for yourself before leaning back against your sink. 

“I don’t even know where to start,” the fairy sighs, taking a seat at your small dining table. He cups his large hands around the mug of tea, as if warming himself.

“Well, I’m y/n,” you tell him.

He smiles thankfully. “Mingyu.”

“Nice to meet you again, Mingyu, how about you tell me how you’re human-sized and your wings are gone?”

“Fairies can transform. In my own realm, keeping my smaller shape is easier, but here- it takes less energy to just… blend in. It’s a sort of, um, adaptation, for survival, I guess.” 

“It doesn’t make sense how you can go from tiny to massive,” you point out.

“Well, you see, I’m big for a fairy,” Mingyu laughs nervously. “It’s part of the reason I never fit in that well with others of my kind.”

You frown at his words, giving him the space to continue.

“Yeah, so anyways, I went back home, and I had been gone a while, and it just felt weird. I hadn’t fit in before, and I didn’t fit in when I got back, and I guess I just figured… you’re a girl, and you’re here alone, in the forest- I mentioned I’m a tinkerer right? I fix things? Was thinking maybe I could help fix up your place.”

Is he seriously offering to fix your house? You stare at him in shock. “I’ve never really thought about fairies being blue-collared.”

“Blue-collared?” he looks down at his flannel in confusion.

“Never mind, it’s uh, it’s a phrase, it means you’re a worker, you do building and stuff.”

“I’m really good at building and fixing things,” he nods solemnly. 

“So… you want to stay here with me? Room, board, food… in return, you’ll fix up the cottage?” you clarify.

“I guess.”

You study him. “I’ve heard about pixies and fairies who try to lure people into fairy rings-”

“It’s not like that, I promise.” He meets your gaze. “Look, what if I fix your little shed workshop thing, show you what I can do, and you can decide later?”

You consider it for a moment. “I guess that could work, but first, you’ll need some workboots.”

“If you think that’s best.”

God, he probably does most of his tinkering while fairy-sized and barely wearing clothes… which isn’t something you want to think about.

Setting your tea down, you head to one of the back closets, where you’d stashed away a few of your grandfather’s possessions, the important things, unlike the donation box currently in your truck.

You find Mingyu some shoes, and when you go give them to him, he flashes you a smile and heads outside to get to work. 

Four:

You’re doing your best to focus on painting, but your solarium gives you a perfect view of your grandfather's old work shed, where Mingyu is currently tinkering around. 

He’s fast, and it’s clear he knows what he’s doing.

Your grandfather’s shed has a whole stash of tools, shingles, and wood, and Mingyu has already redone the roof, ripped a few worn boards off to replace them along the sides, and completed general tidying work.

He’s even weed-whacked the tall grass around the workstation, and as lunch turns into evening, he comes back from the woods with a small tree on his shoulder, which he then begins to chop for firewood.

You can definitely see how he’d be helpful to have around… and you can afford to feed him if he’s going to fix up your home. He’s probably already done a couple hundred dollars of work, maybe even a thousand- work that you’d been meaning to hire someone to deal with once you’d settled in a little more. 

You get started on dinner. You’d planned on rice bowls, and it’s easy enough to make a plate for him. Then, you go outside, calling him toward you.

Mingyu’s sweaty, and he’s got some sawdust on his jeans- but God, does he look handsome and chipper.

“I made dinner,” you tell him.

He nods, smiling before following you inside. You note the way he takes off his boots at your door, brushing off his pants, careful not to bring any dirt into your otherwise tidy house.

The two of you sit down to eat, and he’s extremely verbal about how thankful he is for the food, and how good it tastes-

You come up with an avenue of discussion to distract him from his praises. “What would you living here entail?”

He pauses. “I hadn’t thought too hard about it.”

“I feed you, you do work, you live here?”

“Something like that.”

“How long do you keep your human shape?”

Mingyu takes a breath, setting down his spoon. “I’ll be honest with you, whether you see it this way or not, your grandmother saved me. I was wounded, I came to your realm, anything could have gotten me, but your grandma saved me, glued my wing, and kept me safe so I could hibernate and heal. I owe your family. My home isn’t my home anymore, please let me help you make this cottage your home.”

“No, I-” you release the tension in your shoulders, “you can stay, but, seriously, how long do you keep your human shape?”

“Is it a space thing?” Mingyu looks around. “I can be small when I sleep if it’s a space thing-”

“I mean, my grandma has a replica doll house of the cottage that her dad made for her, was going to offer that up for you.” It’s meant to be a joke, but Mingyu takes it completely seriously, nodding diligently. 

“That works, I just have to go collect some moss to make a bed-”

“Are you being for real?” you ask, blinking at him.

“I should probably go back to my normal size when I sleep, it makes sense and takes up less space,” Mingyu nods.

“If you change your mind, I do have a spare bedroom.” 

“Nope,” the man-sized fairy shakes his head, “the doll house works.”

“Well… if you want to go get some moss, I can grab the box of clothes from my truck,” you suggest.

“Let’s do it.” Mingyu is so easy, he just agrees to everything. 

Soon the two of you are reconvening at your front door, you with a box, him with a palm full of moss. “The doll house is in the studio, I was planning to paint it.” Mingyu follows you to the solarium. In the dark of the evening, you have to turn on the fairy lights you’d strung up, and Mingyu lets out a breath.

Even you have to admit the space has ambiance. The solarium studio is a lovely part of the house, your favorite in fact, although, tonight, you’re feeling a little shy about your art strewn about.

“Did you paint all of these?” Mingyu asks, approaching your most recent work.

“Yeah, they’re uh, abstracts,” you explain. “I mean, I gather a lot of inspiration from nature, but it’s more a feeling than a specific thing that I like to paint, if that makes any sense.”

“It does,” Mingyu nods, leaning down to get a better look at your art. 

“My grandma, she uh, she was an artist too, and so was her mother, and she gave me the house because she knew I needed inspiration-”

“Maybe that’s why she gave you me too.”

Your heart lurches in your chest, and you blink up at the tall man. “Uh… maybe.”

“So this cottage has a long line of artists and tinkerers,” Mingyu concludes.

“The line ended in my mother’s generation,” you sigh.

“That’s not true.” Mingyu looks down at you. “We’re here now.”

Five:

You wake up feeling as refreshed and well-rested as ever. It’s odd how much of a difference having a male presence in the house can make, even if he was the size of your palm while you were sleeping. 

You’ve been here over a month, but you’ve not yet gotten used to the seclusion, the feeling of being alone. Mingyu is an unexpected comfort, and you quietly tiptoe to your solarium to see if he’s awake.

The nest of moss in the dollhouse is empty, and you move to your kitchen, getting a kettle started before looking out the window. Mingyu’s lumbering around in the tree line. He’s dressed in a white shirt and blue jeans, and damn does it look good.

You turn on some music, quietly making breakfast for two while trying to fight the urge to watch the beautiful man.

You’d slept in more than normal, another byproduct of feeling safe, and due to that, by the time you’re taking two plates of food outside, the temperature of the late spring air is already warming with the noon sun.

“Mingyu,” you call, finding him by the workshed, “breakfast!”

He bounds over like a puppy, and you set the plates down on a small circular table. The metal lawn set can be a bit rough, and you’ve tried to soften it with comfy pillows. Mingyu doesn’t seem to mind as he plops down, grabbing the bacon sandwich you’d prepared.

“Smells delicious,” he tells you, taking the largest bite of food you’ve ever seen.

You watch him, amused. “Did you get up early?”

“Yeah, I don’t need much sleep. Just spent eighty years sleeping, or so you tell me.” Mingyu smiles at you, a tight-lipped smile to hide the food in his mouth, you’re sure. 

“It’s a nice day,” you sigh, leaning back in your chair and looking at the world around you.

The sun is out, it’s a little cold, but the sky is clear. Dew drops are in the last stages of evaporation, clinging to the green strands of grass along the hillside area that leads down to the pond.

“Every day is a good day for tinkering,” Mingyu agrees. “Which, I meant to ask- is there anything you wanted me to do?” 

“Uh… like what?”

“I’ll finish the shed soon,” Mingyu promises. “I already have ideas about extending it, but, if you wanted me to paint the house, fix anything inside that’s a little wonky and in need of tinkering-”

“I think you should focus on the shed, if you want to extend it, you should.” For some reason, you’re apprehensive about him coming into the house just yet- you need to… acclimatize to his presence, and right now, having a wall of glass between the two of you is keeping your heart from exploding every time you look at him. “Do you uh… do you need anything to build your addition?”

“Your grandfather kept a lot of tools, nails, screws- and we’re surrounded by trees. He had loads of extra shingles, enough for years of repairs to the cottage and the shed.” Mingyu smiles at you. “I think I’ll manage… but, when it comes time to paint it, maybe we could paint it together?”

“Maybe.” You can feel your skin heating at the idea. “Anyways, I wanted to bring you some food, now I’ve gotta go inside my studio and get to work.”

“Sounds good, tinkering calls, thanks for breakfast.” Mingyu pushes the last massive bite of his sandwich into his mouth before standing up.

He nods to you and then you watch him go, sneaking a look at his butt before you tear your eyes away.

This could either be the best idea of your life, or the worst. 

Six:

Mingyu had taken his time with the shed. He’d made it twice the size, and added more windows that your grandfather had left sitting around in the original structure- it’s crazy how much he’s accomplished using only the things that are left over and semi discarded.

Then, Mingyu had taken to restoring the inside. He’d spent two days just moving stuff around, tidying and dusting- and another day just cutting wood to fill up his firewood stash. 

Now, a week after showing up at your door, he’s finally come inside to begin tinkering with old hinges and loose screws. He’s going over every inch of your cottage to make sure it’s up to his fairy standards, and you’re extremely aware of him, especially when he makes it to the solarium to begin to work.

The french doors have been a little off for years, one hinge is a little wonky- and it’s hard to focus on your painting while Mingyu’s standing there and fiddling- or, scratch that, tinkering. 

“Watcha working on?” Mingyu asks, and you suppose he must have caught you staring.

“Oh, uh… it’s a new project, and starting is always the hardest part.”

Mingyu comes around your easel, looking at the new blank canvas you had pulled out just an hour ago.

“Do you have any ideas?” he questions.

“I mean… one or two.”

Mingyu cocks his head at you. “Tell me.”

You release a deep sigh. “I guess… I was wondering if maybe… maybe I could paint your wings sometime, in an abstract sort of way.”

Mingyu is quiet for a few moments, and you immediately try to backpedal, but he stops you. “No, it’s okay, sorry, I was just- I’ve never been someone’s muse before.”

“You haven’t?”

He shakes his head. “In uh… where I come from, my wings aren’t exactly that extraordinary.” 

“Really?” you ask in shock.

“Yeah, they’re just green. I know a lot of fairies with all sorts of colored wings, pinks, purples- every color of the rainbow. Green is… well, it’s bland, it’s like everything else in the forest.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. “You seem to forget that I came to the forest for inspiration- the greens here are beautiful. If I remember correctly, your wings are like… sage and stardust.”

“Sage and stardust,” Mingyu repeats, his voice like a whisper. He cracks a smile. “I like that.”

“So you’ll let me paint them?”

“If it would make you happy.”

“It would.”

“Then yes, you can paint by wings.”

Seven:

Mingyu’s continued his daily tinkerings, but now, your evenings are spent in your solarium. You’d found one of your grandmother’s magnifying glasses, the type she used for butterfly wing repair, and Mingyu is the perfect muse, sitting patiently and letting you inspect him.

You’d spent half an hour just trying to get the color of his wings right, and now, you’re doing long brush strokes against the cream canvas. You’d found some glitter too, and while Mingyu spends most of the time sitting on your shoulder while you’re painting, he also offers to douse his hands in sparkles and do the small details for you.

It’s odd, thirsting for this large, beefy man during the day, only for him to downsize and nuzzle into your hair at night- he’s still so cute as a fairy, and his wings are truly beautiful.

“You see me like this?” Mingyu asks, fluttering off your shoulder to gaze at the painting. He’s so small in comparison to the large canvas. “These are really my wings?” 

“They’re beautiful, Gyu,” you tell him, giving him a nickname without a second thought.

“Gyu,” Mingyu repeats, turning to look at you. “I like that.”

You hold out your paint brush, and he flutters over to it, balancing on the wooden handle.

It’s crazy how you’re already getting used to him- to the little things, Mingyu included. 

Eight:

It’s gotten to the point where Mingyu wants to paint the shed, so the two of you decide to head into town together. It’s a small population, and you know that the sight of the two of you is raising a few eyebrows as you enter the paint store.

Mingyu sticks out, not only for his size, but his beauty as well. He truly is stunning, and you notice multiple women staring as the two of you wander around the store.

“So what coloring are you thinking?” Mingyu asks, heading to a wall of paint swatches. 

“I mean… I just sort of figured we’d repaint it to match the house again?” you suggest.

“Well… it’s your house now,” Mingyu points out. “What are your dream colors?”

“My dream colors?”

“Yeah, I promised you I’d help you make it your dream home, didn’t I?” 

Your heart melts as you stare up at this gorgeous man. He has such a soft heart, you can’t believe how much you care for him after only two weeks, how much he clearly cares for you- but you try not to read into it too deeply. 

You turn to look at the paint swatches, truly considering what your dream home would look like.

You choose a pallet, showing it to Mingyu, and he nods. “This will be great.”

The two of you go to get the paint, and soon, you’re back in your truck. You try to play the radio, but it doesn’t drown out your thoughts, so you turn the music down.

“Did you notice how many people were looking at you today?” you ask.

“Hmm?” Mingyu tears his gaze from the trees moving by.

“Girls, a lot were staring.”

“Were you staring?” 

You flash a glimpse at Mingyu and find him grinning at you… is there a mutual attraction here? Does he like you the way you like him?

Things are just so easy. Choosing paint with him for your house, letting him make your house your dream house- it all just feels so domestic, not to mention the fact that you generally don’t like people watching you work on your art, but you feel comfortable with him.

“I, uh… yeah, I look at you, we’re friends.” You cough, forcing your eyes back to the road.

“Close friends,” Mingyu confirms.

You turn the radio back up, and Mingyu looks out at the trees again, but he doesn’t stop smiling, and your heart doesn’t stop racing either.

Nine:

It’s hard to sleep. You can’t help but think about the car ride with Mingyu earlier. 

He has to be attracted to you… right?

He’s been more touchy during your late-night painting sessions, and less afraid to cuddle up in your hair. You’ve noticed him watching you too… often when you look at him, you catch his gaze already on you.

Cohabitation with a man as fine as he is- well, you know where it leads, and you’re a little shocked you’ve gotten this far without breaking first.

You toss and turn in your bed, groaning.

God, when was the last time you were this horny?

Can you… can you touch yourself with him right downstairs? Is that weird? What if he catches you? Mingyu said it himself, he doesn’t sleep much- and… is his hearing better as a fairy? You don’t actually know much about his abilities when he has wings… maybe these are things you should ask.

You let out a sigh, bringing your hand to your breast through your sleeping shirt. In no time at all, your nipple is pebbled against your touch. You release another breath, closing your eyes and thinking about Mingyu. 

You search through your memories, deciding to focus on the thought of him chopping wood. God, in his little tank top, his muscles all bulging and glorious- the way his sweat begins to drip, making the fabric stick to his skin, showing off his abdominal muscles-

You can feel your pussy getting wet, and you begin to glide a hand down between your legs-

You stop, opening your eyes. Fuck, you can’t do this. It feels dirty, sinful- and not in a fun flirty way. 

This isn’t something that you can continue with- you can’t keep feeling this way. You have to tell Mingyu how you feel. If it ruins everything then it ruins everything, but you can’t keep this cohabitation agreement up if you’re falling in love with the man- or, should you say, fairy.

God, maybe you should have never opened Pandora’s Box. It wasn’t a flurry of chaos, not one you could see anyway, but you’re beginning to feel chaotic inside, and coming clean to Mingyu is the only way to get it settled. 

Ten:

When you wake up the next morning, you move slowly. You have a shower, make some tea, and then, after going through an internal script numerous times, you decide to go outside to tell Mingyu how you feel. 

He’s been painting the shed all morning, that much is obvious from how much he’s completed- and to make matters worse for yourself, he’s shirtless.

You almost turn and go right back inside, but instead, you pull up your big girl panties, taking a few deep breaths.

You have to do this, you’ll regret it if you don’t- just as you knew you’d regret it if you hadn’t let Mingyu inside a few weeks ago to hear him out.

“Gyu?” you call.

“Oh, hi!” he waves, and you watch paint splatter everywhere from the brush in his hand. “Oops!” 

God, he’s so- he’s so- he’s a big dork, in the best way possible.

You watch Mingyu wipe his hand across his abdomen, clearing the splatter stain there. “Had to take my shirt off, painting isn’t my strong suit sometimes,” he explains, putting the brush back into the can before he approaches you. “What’s up?”

Suddenly, everything you’d planned to say to him just disappears from your mind.

“Are you thirsty?” you ask, voice cracking.

“Could use some water,” he nods.

“Come inside,” you instruct, tearing your gaze away from Mingyu’s perfect body to lead him back into your cottage.

He follows you like a good boy, taking his boots off on your deck before joining you in the kitchen where you have a cup of water waiting for him. 

Your hand is practically shaking as you give him the cup, and he looks you up and down, an expression of concern appearing on his face. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” You swallow thickly, shaking your head. “Just… a little jittery.”

“Is there something on your mind?” Mingyu questions, taking a sip of his water.

God, he’s still shirtless, and it’s as if he doesn’t even realize it! It’s as if being half naked in your kitchen is the most normal thing in the world to him!

You take a deep breath, doing your best to hype yourself up. “I like you,” you say finally.

“I like you too,” Mingyu grins.

“No, I… I like like you.” 

“Like like?” he repeats, cocking his head to the side in confusion. 

“As in… I think you’re really amazing and good with your hands, and you’re handsome, and I enjoy spending time with you,” you blurt. 

“I think you’re amazing, and good with your hands, and pretty, and I enjoy spending time with you too,” he counters, echoing the entirety of your sentiment. 

You stare blankly up at the man. It’s clear he doesn’t know what you’re getting at. You wonder how fairies court each other- do they even court each other? Do fairies have sex? Or are they just… you don’t know, blossomed out of flower buds or something?

“Mingyu,” you take another very deep breath, stepping closer to him. “I feel for you, in here.” You put your hand over his heart, looking up at him, searching his brown eyes for some form of recognition, of understanding. 

Mingyu’s lips part, and his gaze shifts to your hand, then, he slowly places his own over yours. His palm is warm, and he squeezes you gently. “Are you saying you love me?” he asks.

You blink… it feels like he’s skipping a few steps here. You love him as a friend, and you’re attracted to him, but you’re not… in love with him, not yet anyway. 

“I-” You swallow thickly and decide to just be honest. “I think… things could be heading that way, with some more time.”

“More time?” Mingyu frowns a little. “Humans can be weird.”

“We can?” you laugh. “What’s love like for you?”

“Fairies don’t do anything halfway. We feel intensely, more so than humans I think.”

“Have you…” you cough. “Have you ever been in love before?”

“No.”

“So… how do you know what you’re feeling right now is love?”

��I know it because I would do anything for you. Just being near you makes me happy. I want to protect you, and provide for you- I’d give up my wings for you. I choose you over any of my own kind, because you understand me and accept me better than my own kind. I don’t need anyone else but you.” 

You don’t know what to say, so you choose not to say anything. Instead, you get on your tiptoes, pressing your lips to his own.

Mingyu freezes for a moment, but then he reciprocates, wrapping his arms around your body to pull you tight to his chest. 

It’s a slow kiss, an exploratory one. It’s soft and gentle and every good thing, but you get the sense you’re going to have to lead the build-up of this. After a few kisses, you lick at his lower lip, and Mingyu responds by opening his mouth, allowing you to deepen the experience. 

His hands grab your hips, and Mingyu pushes you backward until your bum hits the counter, then he lifts you onto it, prompting you to wrap your legs around his hips. 

As you kiss him, there’s a small voice in the back of your mind reminding you that this is a fairy. His original form is small… but as he grinds against you, you realize that what’s inside his pants right now is anything but tiny. 

God, he feels so good- and he’s already shirtless, which gives you the perfect opportunity to graze your hands along his body, teasing the muscle you find there. Mingyu shivers from the contact, breaking the kiss.

He presses his forehead against yours, breathing deeply, and you can feel his heart racing under your palm. 

“Do you want to do this? Even though you don’t love me the way I love you?” He asks.

“I want this, and I do love you Mingyu, I just…”

“You need more time,” he sighs.

“I think… do you remember how you said eighty years felt fast in the box for you? I feel like, you just move faster than I do, and that’s not a bad thing, it’s just… something we have to adjust for.”

“Adjust how?” Mingyu questions, looking down at you as his hands grip your hips harder.

You shrug. “Maybe you’ll just have to be patient with me.”

“Do I have to wait to say ‘I love you’ since you’re waiting?”

You smile up at him. “You can do anything that feels right, Mingyu.”

“This feels right,” Mingyu muses, pulling you closer to the edge of the table so he can grind his denim-clad cock against your core.

“Then do this,” you whisper, cupping his cheek and drawing his lips back to yours. 

Mingyu doesn’t fight it, in fact, he melts into the kiss, and then, his hands are grabbing your thighs and he’s lifting you up.

You grip his strong shoulders, releasing a small squeal of shock- but you refuse to break the kiss as he begins to carry you through your cottage. He knows where your bedroom is, and it’s sweet that he wants your first time to be on an actual mattress- you’d half expected him to bend you over in your kitchen and have his way with you right there, but you suppose that’s not really his style.

You still have so much more to learn about Mingyu, and you’re excited to take your time learning it. 

Mingyu lays you down gently on your bed, and his lips move to your throat. His hands find yours, and your fingers intertwine as he sucks on your sweet spot, making you moan and writhe against the bed beneath him. 

“Fuck,” you groan, brows furrowing from the pleasure already coursing through you. 

Mingyu grins against your throat, and then he begins to descend.

You’re wearing a sleeping shirt and boxers, and Mingyu’s hand is sneaking up the oversized fabric. “Can I take this off you?” he asks, pulling away and swallowing thickly, his gaze fixed on your covered chest.

You nod, but instead of forcing him to do it, you push on your wrist confines, prompting Mingyu to let you go so you can sit up, tearing the shirt off. You’re not wearing a bra, and Mingyu’s pupils blow at the sight.

He leans down, pressing his lips to yours again as he helps you back down to the bed. You relax against the duvet, enjoying the sensation of your bare chests rubbing against each other. Your nipples are pebbled from interest, and each brush of him against you feels like magic, especially when he begins to swivel his hips, grinding down against your pussy.

His mouth begins to move down again, and this time, there’s no fabric to stop him in his tracks. Mingyu’s lips wrap around your nipple, your fingers threading through his hair as you fight the urge to arch your back and moan like a whore in heat.

“Feels good,” you tell him, earning a groan from the large man who sucks on your pebbled bud even harder.

His free hand is on your hip, but soon, it’s rising to massage your neglected breast. His warm palm feels so good- your eyes close in pleasure, your body reacting to Mingyu and the foreplay he’s providing.

You thread your fingers deeper into his curls, gently massaging his scalp while he works you up, teasing you in the best possible way.

He’s clearly solely focused on you, you don’t think there’s an ulterior motive, a motive of getting you to beg or forcing you to wait, you think he’s simply enjoying you, and you love the feeling of being enjoyed in this way.

Even so- now it’s your patience that’s running thin, and you tug at his curls, forcing his mouth away from your breast. He looks up at you with confusion, lips parting in a silent question.

“I need you,” you tell him, swallowing thickly. 

“You have me,” he assures you with a laugh. 

“I mean-”

His hand slips between your thighs, rubbing your pussy through your boxers. “You mean, you need me here,” Mingyu finishes for you.

Fuck, he’s so hot- part of you had expected him to be a virgin fairy who’s never been in love, but it’s clear from his dirty talk that he’s no virgin. 

Your pussy is wet, and you can feel a wet spot to match in your shorts, you’re sure Mingyu can feel it too.

“Since…” Mingyu takes a breath, and you can see his skin beginning to flush a pretty shade of pink, “since I’m the one who likes you more, maybe you’ll let me take my time and do what I want to do? Out of… pity?”

You laugh. “Pity? I don’t pity you- I kind of love you, Gyu, I said that-”

“Just kind of, though,” he points out, leaning down to bite your nipple gently.

You groan, arching your back and taking a deep breath. “Fine. Do whatever you want to me. Take your time. Worship me. Make me fall in love with you.”

Mingyu smiles, and then he whispers a soft, “Thank you,” before diving back toward your chest.

It’s clear that now that you’ve given him permission, he’s in no rush.

He worships your breasts, just like you’d told him to, taking all the time he wants to massage and lick and kiss and bite- and then, one of his hands returns between your legs, pushing your boxers to the side so he can access your dripping pussy.

He’s gentle at first, circling your sensitive clit and teasing your slit up and down. Then, after too much teasing for your tastes, he eases his finger into your tight hole. He’s gentle as he begins to finger fuck you, working you open at a snail's pace-

You think, as someone who time moves fast for, he really must be savoring every long moment of this. He wants to take his time with you, and for a fairy, that means something.

Mingyu’s lips are still wrapped around your nipple, and as he adds a second digit to your core, you think you might just combust.

“Gyu,” you whimper.

He hums in response.

“I’m close,” you tell him, beginning to wiggle your hips against his hand. “I’m so close-”

Mingyu’s palm finds your clit, and he finger fucks you harder, crooking his digits to reach a spot that has your toes curling.

“Oh my god-” you groan, closing your eyes and latching onto Mingyu’s hair as an anchor, keeping his face buried in your tits as he works you closer and closer to the edge-

One graze of his teeth across your nipple has you cumming on his fingers, and Mingyu releases his own sound of pleasure to echo the whimpers escaping your lips.

He’s got you pinned to the bed, there’s nowhere to go, nothing to do except take what he’s giving you.

He works you through your high, allowing you to feel every lick of pleasure as it courses through your entire body-

You’re a gasping mess at the end of it, and Mingyu gingerly removes his fingers from your pussy, pulling away from your chest to sit up on his knees, licking his digits clean as he inspects you carefully.

“Are you okay, my star?” 

You shiver at the nickname, a whispered echo of your pleasure running through you.

“Yeah,” you nod, still trying to catch your breath.

“Was that good for you?” he asks, teasing his wet finger across your nipple and making you shiver again. “It was good for me.”

“It was so good,” you groan, shifting against the bed.

“Good.” Mingyu hooks his fingers in your boxers, tearing them down your legs. 

You’re now completely bare for him, and you expect Mingyu to work on his jeans next, but he doesn’t. He lays down between your thighs, looking up at you as he peppers your skin with chaste kisses.

“Ready for more?” he questions.

You groan, and the groan turns into a laugh. “I guess I told you to do whatever you want to me,” you sigh, adjusting your legs so your feet are flat and your knees are bent, giving him better access to your pussy for what you know is about to come next. 

“You did.” Mingyu’s breath is hot against your still pulsing core, and you grab at the duvet in preparation, knowing he’s about to completely rock your world for a second time. 

Mingyu doesn’t say anything else, he continues to kiss up your thigh, and he doesn’t stop. When he reaches your core, he licks your clit gently, circling it.

You open your eyes, looking down at him to find his own lids are closed. He’s completely focused on pleasuring you, and as he pushes his tongue into your core, lapping at your slit- well, fuck, no thoughts are going through your mind.

You can only whimper, grabbing the duvet tighter, your toes curling deliciously as this man eats you out in a way that no man ever has.

He really is taking his time. It’s clear this isn’t just a duty or a ‘task’ he has to complete in order to fuck you, no, eating you out is as much his pleasure as it is yours, and somehow, that knowledge makes it even better.

You give yourself to the pleasure. There’s no anxiety, no racing thoughts, or pressures you’re imposing on yourself.

You know there’s not a time limit. Mingyu’s not eager to make you cum so he can fuck you, he’s simply enjoying the act of licking your pussy- so you simply enjoy it too.

You’re not keeping track of time, your focus is solely on the pleasure running through you, and the way it’s building.

Soon, you’re at the edge again, and you warn Mingyu, your thighs twitching around his head.

Mingyu groans in response, lips wrapping around your clit. A squeal escapes you, your chest heaving, back arching off the bed as your second orgasm slams into you.

This one is even more electric than the first, and it almost feels like you’re floating off the mattress- like you’re truly ascending to cloud nine, as if you - like Mingyu - have wings.

God, there’s not a feeling like it in the world, especially as Mingyu continues to suck your clit, working you through the most intense high of your entire life. Your legs are fully quaking around him now, your grip like a vice on the duvet.

Thank God you live in the middle of nowhere because you’re aware that you’re being loud. 

Mingyu’s groaning too, his fingers digging into your thighs, keeping you pinned and in place for him to eat you through the pussy contracting pleasure convulsions that are threatening to overtake your entire body in an ecstasy you’ve never, ever experienced before. 

The large man finally lets up, and you gasp, flopping back down against the bed. There are aftershocks of pleasure, and you jolt a little, goosebumps erupting on your flesh from the sensation. 

You feel the bed shift, and you look from under heavy lids to see Mingyu standing at the foot of the mattress, finally taking off his jeans.

Fuck, he’s huge- maybe foreplay wasn’t so much of a want, as a necessity. 

“You still want me?” Mingyu asks, joining you on the bed again, his breath hot against your throat as he grinds down against you, teasing his cock against your dripping pussy.

“Fuck, I need you,” you tell him.

Mingyu kisses you then, grabbing your hands and putting them above your head. He collects your wrists in one grip, and with his free hand, he grabs his cock, lining it up with your core.

“If it hurts-”

“You’ve made me cum twice,” you tell him, “I’m pretty sure I’ll be okay.”

“Whatever you say, my star,” he grins, pressing his lips to yours as he pushes the head of his cock into your tight, wet hole.

You groan desperately, struggling against his grip on your wrists, but Mingyu doesn’t let up. In fact, he tightens his hold on you, pushing his cock even deeper into your core.

The sounds you’re making are feral as he kisses you, his lips and tongue are hot against your own in the most delicious way.

You can feel your pussy stretching to accommodate for his girth, and when his hips are finally flush against your own, you think this might just be the most full you’ve ever felt in your entire life.

Mingyu breaks the kiss, panting and looking down at you. “You feel perfect,” he whispers.

“You feel perfect,” you counter, feeling a little dim with your repetition of his own works back to him, but also too fucked out to think of anything better. 

He only grins, drawing his lips to yours. It’s a gentler kiss as he begins to fuck you, his motions slow so you can acclimatize to the massive cock that’s already rearranging your guts. 

You get lost in him, and there’s a kind of safety in having your hands pinned down above your head. You can’t quite explain it- maybe it’s just a size kink? You can’t have a bondage kink, can you? Does Mingyu even know what bondage is? Do fairies watch porn?

You push the thoughts from your head, focusing on the cock that’s dragging against your sensitive inner walls.

Soon, you’re moaning loudly again, and Mingyu finally lets up on your wrists. “I kind of…” he swallows thickly, thrusts faltering, “I kind of want you to ride me when you cum.”

“You do?”

“I’ve… well, I know I’ve been a little rough-”

“You haven’t been rough,” you assure him.

“I just mean, the first two times you came, I did what I wanted, and I want you to be in control for this last one, don’t want to overstimulate you.” 

It’s a soft idea, and you nod up at him. “I’ll ride you.”

“Good.” Mingyu kisses you gently, and then the two of you are adjusting.

He lays flat as you swing your leg over his hip, grabbing his cock to line it up with your core so you can slowly sink down on him.

Mingyu groans, his hands settling on your hips to help you be gentle as you come to a fully seated position on his cock.

“You look so perfect like this, my star,” he tells you, one free hand moving up to grab your breast, massaging it gently and pinching at your nipple.

“Think you can cum with me, Gyu?” you ask, beginning to bounce.

You watch Mingyu’s lips part in concentration, his gaze fixed on your chest. He’s clearly in a daze, and it’s adorable. “I’ll cum with you,” he whispers. “You’re so beautiful.”

“You’re quite handsome yourself,” you smile.

Mingyu’s ears turn pink first, and it’s so endearing to watch the massive man flush from a compliment as you’re riding his cock.

God, he is a perfect man, isn’t he?

“I think… I think I was made to be found by you,” Mingyu says, looking up at you with eyes full of adoration. “I don’t know what I’d do If I never met you.”

“Gyu,” you coo, slowing your thrusts. Mingyu sits up, allowing you to pull him to your chest, cradling him to your breast as your fingers stroke through his hair. 

“I do love you,” he continues. “And… it’s okay if you don’t love me the same way yet. I know it’s fast, even for me, but… yeah.”

“It’s fast, but that’s okay. You don’t have to hide yourself from me,” you tell him, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.

“You don’t have to hide from me either,” Mingyu promises.

He lays back down flat, and you move with him, your chests pressed together as you ride his cock, groaning into his ear.

Mingyu’s hands are warm on your hips, and he steadies you, beginning to thrust up to meet your movements.

You both release sounds of pleasure, and you can feel your hearts racing together in your chests as they remain pressed to each other.

You’re tired, but you’re also eager to cum again, so you push through, closing your eyes and focusing on the pleasure instead of the increasing burn in your thighs.

“Are you close?” Mingyu pants in your ear. “I’m close.”

His sounds are like magic, and they help drag you to join Mingyu on the edge. “I’m close,” you confirm, swallowing thickly.

“Can we cum together?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, muscles clenching in preparation. 

Mingyu fucks up into you even harder, and you put all of your energy into carrying this out, into riding this man until you pass out from how good everything is about to feel.

He releases another grunt, and you press your lips to his own, which is all it takes for you to both fall over the edge together.

You feel like you’re flying again, it’s almost an out-of-body pleasure-fueled experience, but this time, Mingyu’s with you, and you know you’ll be safe with the man who knows how to navigate the skies.

He cradles you to his chest, keeping his cock buried as deep as it can go in your core. You’re both kissing each other desperately, shaking and contracting from orgasms that continue to surge through you. Your hearts are racing together, and you’re both trying to catch your breaths even in the midst of a passionate kiss.

Everything just feels so right, and natural.

It’s as if your body was made to do this, with Mingyu especially.

Soon, your orgasms are subsiding, and you’re simply kissing now. 

Mingyu holds you close, not letting you go until he’s good and satisfied.

You take a deep breath, breaking the kiss to look down at him. “So…”

“So,” he grins.

“So… I guess this changes our arrangement a little?”

Mingyu laughs, holding you tighter. “Does this mean I don’t have to sleep in the dollhouse anymore?”

You find yourself chuckling too, and the contraction it causes of your pussy around Mingyu’s cock makes him groan desperately, his hand pushing on the small of your back. 

“You don’t have to sleep in the dollhouse.”

“I meant it when I said I’d give up my wings for you,” Mingyu muses, turning serious as he looks up at you.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“The future-”

“Is something we can talk about later,” you assure him. “Right now, I just want to enjoy you.”

“I guess… I guess we can do that,” Mingyu concedes. His arms wrap tighter around you, securing you down against his chest. He tucks you under his chin, releasing a deep breath, and that’s where you fall asleep, completely content with your blue-collared, human-sized, fairy lover.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! we all need a domestic blue collar man who's obsessed with us and wants to build our dream house for us ✨MANIFESTING IT💅

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🔮 preview. “I’m happy where I am… but, when you cum, I’ll let you warm up while I fuck you stupid.” Mingyu never used to swear. He used to call sex ‘making love’ and something about it had made you uncomfortable in some weird way- so your soft lover has taken to using profanity for your own benefit, and you can’t help the way your body reacts to the term ‘fuck you stupid.’

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, size kink, worship, Mingyu is a boobs guy, nipple play, fingering, pussy stretching, foreplay, multiple reader orgasms, hand job, shower sex, praise, dirty talk, etc… I pet names: (hers) my star. (his) Gyu. 

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.7k I teaser wc. 175

🌙 starring. Mingyu x afab!Reader

bonus

It’s summer, and you’re more in love than ever. Mingyu’s made you rethink what it is to live in your cottage. He’s done everything in his power to make it your dream home, and his latest upgrade is a small rowboat that he’d handcrafted with the purpose of meandering around your pond.

You can’t stop smiling and giggling as Mingyu rows you around, the sunlight kissing his skin in the most beautiful way. He’s so gorgeous, and his soul is just as stunning.

Every day is a dream with him… but there are still things on your mind, things you need to discuss. 

“Mingyu?” you ask, drawing his attention away from his haphazard rowing.

“Yes, my star?” he pauses to look at you, setting down the oars to give you his complete, and undivided attention.

“I’m just… I’m thinking.”

“That’s not always the best sign,” Mingyu teases. “Thinking about what?”

“Just… we’ve been together a while now, and, I guess I’m starting to look at the future more, and I’m not really sure how to envision it.” 

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[hinge]

Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co

[justcruisingaroundrevived]

What if all the boys fight for reader’s affection?????

Seven Minutes in Heaven is all I Need When I get With You

Summary: Yandere TEC are fighting for your affection. Things will get ugly

TW/CW: Yandere behavior, obsessive behavior, stalking, harassment, cyberbullying, trolling, mentions of self harm, implied murder, mentions of stabbing

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I hope you realize how utterly insane this would be and I hope you have witness protection on your side <3

* Pookie…do you have a death wish? Like, there are much more humane ways to kill yourself than having these 4 yandere incels after you

* The first to crush was Josh. He saw you holding a Star Wars comic and was about dismiss you, until he heard you talking to your friend about the franchise in general. It was weird seeing someone other than him this passionate about one of his favorite franchises, and the way you looked while talking about it…

* He tells Jerry about this, cause he really has no one else to tell, and absolutely can’t deal with these feelings. His description of you is almost erotic (especially the way he’s breathing heavily and getting giddy talking about you)

* Jerry looks at you while you’re going through your locker, and “hubba bubba buck!” You’re the real deal! He can even see your “Akira” and “Dungeon and Dragon” posters in your locker! He’ll be staring at you while you chat with your friends, and looking so pretty while doing so

* Jerry’s immediately stalking your profile and trying to gain as much information as he can on you. He’ll feel absolutely elated if you posted pictures of yourself, and would zoom in to get every little detail about you and make sure it’s seer in his brain.

* Meanwhile, Josh’s writing down all of the possible “love letters” he thinks of giving you in his journal. These letters often consist of graphic details about his fantasies and how you check all the boxes of them.

* For Pete, it was during the school’s movie club. He pulled out “Carrie” as his intro film and you were so intrigued about the film. You came up to him later and gushed about the film itself. He probably dismissed it, thinking you were a fake horror fan because “Everyone knows about Carrie”

* However, let him follow you to your locker and show off your reviews to the goriest films. Maybe talk about “Cannibal Holocaust” “Rosemary’s Baby” “Evil Dead” “Suspiria”, all the likes, and he’ll be sitting on the edge of the bed, thinking about you like his final girls

* (Fuck, he probably started to carve your name in his wrist, but got caught and pretended it was an accident)

* At this point, Bill’s pissed. The club members are starting to actively avoid each other (mainly because most know that they would absolutely kill one another if it came down to it) and is going to confront you, in hopes you “Leave the club alone” and “Not destroy fandoms like the normies have”

* …he starts to get it almost immediately, and is going feral at the thought of you

* The club has officially disbanded. If they were hunting for the affection of the same person, being in the same presence of them will result in a full on fist fight

* They will absolutely sabotage each other. Jerry will dig up any dirt he can on the other members. Pete’s about to send very disturbing “gifts” to their residence and non stop calling the members so they’ll be distracted. Fuck, he may even stab them outside of school. Bill will use his status of the club and threaten any embarrassing moment they have done throughout their decade friendship will be exposed if they do much as be in the same direction as you

* Josh would be the most passive. He has so much to loose, and shockingly would focus on being more of a “secret admirer” (stalker) than anything. It doesn’t work cause the other three will target Josh the most

* Could they team up? Maybe in pairs. Particularly Pete and Jerry I can see. Pete would work with the real life stuff and Jerry would do the online bullying. This is one of they were interested in sharing a darling. If not, the other can go fuck himself.

* They will never confront you in school, but would stuff your locker with gifts and letters. You have to get a new one cause it’s getting to the point where the amount of gifts and the nature of them is disturbing you (don’t worry! They’ll find out the new location soon enough)

* Stalking would be the worst. They would take four corners of the sidewalk and follow you around (especially to important locations) (invest in body guards)

* I can see this ending in them in an actual brawl to the death. Whoever kills the others can have your affection (the police will arrest them)

* Move to another state; you won’t survive this ordeal

[missarchive]

Spencer request! Slightly mean dom spencer who watches his roommate reader watch a porn video where the guy is HOLDING the girl down to eat her out and she’s all flustered but very turned on but thinking there’s no way anyone gives head like THAT. And spender is a competitive little shit who needs to prove we wrong, obviously

i have never jumped to write something so quick, yes please!

cw; +18 minors dni, slight mean dom!spencer, munch!spencer, porn mention, unprotected p in v, masturbation (f), fade to black smut

"Please, God. Please, I need it. Please!"

Your cheeks flush hot as you stare at the screen, the scene unraveling before you more intoxicating than you'd like to admit. A girl writhes beneath a man who’s holding her down, his mouth working her with relentless precision. Your thighs clench involuntarily, a futile attempt to stifle the ache building inside you. Despite the muted volume, every moan, every gasp feels amplified in the silent room.

You shouldn't be watching this. Not here. Not now. But your body betrays you, legs shifting slightly apart, and a hand slipping beneath your oversized T-shirt.

"Fuck, don't stop," you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

One hand covers your mouth to muffle your voice as the other trails down your body. Your fingers pinch your hardened nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. The scene on the screen has your complete attention—the way his hands grip her thighs, his tongue teasing her until she’s arching off the bed. It’s a fantasy you’ve imagined countless times but never experienced.

You're just about to slip your hand into your underwear when a shadow moves at the edge of your vision. Your heart stops. Slowly, you turn toward the door, and there he is—Spencer.

He's leaning casually against the doorframe, a smirk curling his lips, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief.

"Am I interrupting?"

You yank the blanket over yourself, panic and mortification warring for dominance. "Spencer!"

He steps into the room, his gait confident but unhurried. "What exactly are you watching?" His tone is teasing, but the heat in his gaze makes your breath hitch.

"I-I..." Words fail you. Your face burns so fiercely it feels like it might ignite.

Without invitation, he sits on the bed beside you. Your blanket shifts as you try to cover yourself, but his attention is already elsewhere—focused on the screen. His smirk deepens as he leans closer, his shoulder brushing yours.

"Interesting choice," he murmurs.

His hand moves behind you, resting lightly on your lower back. The touch freezes you, every nerve in your body hyper aware of his proximity. When his fingers trail down, brushing over the curve of your hip, you finally manage to whisper, "What are you doing?"

"Enjoying the show," he says with a wicked grin, his gaze dropping to your lips.

You try to move away, but he catches your arm, pulling you back against the mattress. His face hovers inches from yours, close enough for you to feel his breath fan against your cheek.

"Do you want it that badly, baby?" His voice is low, almost a growl, sending shivers down your spine.

You hesitate, your heart pounding, your body betraying you as your gaze flickers to the unmistakable bulge in his jeans. "Y-Yeah," you finally whisper, the admission so quiet it’s barely audible.

His smirk widens. Without another word, he shifts, pulling the blanket away and settling between your legs. His hands guide your thighs apart, his touch firm but gentle. You can only watch, your breath caught in your throat, as he slides your panties down and leans in close.

"Open up for me," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "I want to taste you."

You comply, spreading your legs further, your body trembling with anticipation. His lips brush your inner thigh, his warm breath teasing your sensitive skin.

"You're so wet already," he groans, his fingers parting you to expose your most intimate self. "So fucking perfect."

When his tongue finally flicks over you, your hips jerk off the bed, a sharp cry escaping your lips. His hands pin you down, his strength and control both thrilling and maddening.

"Spencer—please," you beg, not even sure what you’re asking for anymore.

“Shh,” Spencer murmurs, his voice soft and coaxing as his lips ghost over your skin. His breath is hot, his tone laced with a quiet dominance that sends shivers rippling through your body. “Just let me take care of you.”

The words are a balm and a promise, and they melt into you as his tongue resumes its sinful dance. Each flick, swirl, and press is methodical yet maddeningly intimate, like he’s memorizing every quiver and gasp you give in response. He latches onto your clit with a hunger that leaves you breathless, and the sound of your name spilling from your lips is a melody he seems determined to orchestrate.

“Fuck, you’re so sensitive,” Spencer breathes, his voice husky and reverent as it skates over your ear, sending goosebumps scattering down your spine.

Your thighs instinctively clamp around his head, but he doesn’t falter. Instead, he grips your hips firmly, pinning you in place as though daring you to resist. The wet heat of his tongue flicks against your clit, and the jolt it sends through your body is electric.

“Spencer, please—please,” you whimper, though the words are a tangle of desperation and surrender.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, his arms like iron as he holds you steady beneath him. The sheets twist beneath your fingers as you arch into his mouth, utterly undone by the relentless onslaught of pleasure. Your body writhes, your breath coming in short, shallow bursts, and yet you’re helpless to escape the tide building within you.

“Spencer!” His name breaks from your lips in a cry, raw and uninhibited, as his mouth closes over your clit again, the suction pulling you under.

You shatter, the orgasm consuming you with a ferocity that leaves you trembling, your muscles locking and releasing in a symphony of pure bliss. He doesn’t let up, his mouth and tongue coaxing every aftershock from you as though it’s his mission to wring you dry.

By the time he pulls away, your body feels like it’s liquefied into the mattress, your limbs trembling as you struggle to catch your breath. He presses a lingering kiss to the inside of your thigh, the gesture so gentle that it makes your chest ache with its intimacy.

Spencer rises slowly, his lips glistening with the evidence of your release, his eyes dark and heavy with satisfaction. “You taste incredible,” he murmurs, his voice thick and rich like velvet.

Your pulse is still racing, your body thrumming with the aftermath of your climax as you meet his gaze. He smirks, brushing a strand of hair away from your damp forehead.

"Does this beat the video, baby?" he asks, his voice smug, but his gaze is tender as he watches you struggle to catch your breath.

You can only nod, your body still trembling as he leans up to kiss you softly.

His lips linger on yours, teasing, tasting, as though savoring the remnants of your moans. The kiss deepens, and you can taste yourself on his tongue, a sensation that sends a fresh wave of heat coursing through you.

When he finally pulls back, his lips curl into a small, knowing smile. His gaze sweeps over your face, taking in the flush of your cheeks, the glassy look in your eyes, the way your chest rises and falls in uneven breaths.

"You’re so beautiful like this," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

You try to respond, but your throat feels tight, words stuck somewhere between your mind and your lips. Instead, you reach out, fingers brushing against his forearm, grounding yourself in the solid warmth of him.

"Spencer..." you begin, unsure of what to say, unsure of anything except how desperately you want him.

He doesn’t let you finish. Instead, his hands move to your waist, and with a gentle but insistent tug, he lifts you slightly, repositioning you beneath him. His body hovers over yours, the heat of his skin radiating through the thin barrier of his clothes.

"You don’t have to say anything," he says softly, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. "I already know."

The weight of his words settles over you, both comforting and electrifying. He leans in again, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a path of heat in their wake. His teeth graze your collarbone, a sharp contrast to the soft press of his mouth.

As his hands roam, exploring every curve, every dip of your body, you become acutely aware of how much fabric still separates you. Your fingers find the hem of his shirt, tugging at it in silent insistence.

"Impatient, are we?" he teases, sitting back on his heels to strip off the offending garment.

Your breath catches as his chest is revealed, the lean lines of muscle and pale skin making your heart race all over again. He’s beautiful in a way that feels almost unfair, every inch of him carved with a subtle elegance that’s uniquely his.

"Better?" he asks, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

You nod, your hands already reaching for him, pulling him back down until his weight presses into you. His jeans are rough against your bare skin, the contrast only heightening the ache pooling low in your belly.

"So so good," you breathe, your voice trembling with a mix of need and hesitation.

He pauses, his forehead resting against yours. "Are you okay?"

The genuine concern in his tone makes your chest tighten. You nod quickly, your hands moving to his hips in an effort to pull him closer. "I want this. I want you."

That’s all the encouragement he needs. His lips crash against yours, the kiss deeper, hungrier this time. His hands move between your bodies, fumbling with the button of his jeans. You hear the faint rasp of the zipper, and then he’s kicking them off, the denim landing somewhere on the floor.

When he presses against you again, the only thing separating you now is the thin fabric of his boxers. You can feel him, hard and insistent, and the knowledge of what’s about to happen sends a shiver down your spine.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice softer now, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

"Yes," you whisper, your hands tangling in his hair as you pull him down for another kiss. "Please, Spencer."

He groans against your mouth, the sound low and guttural, as though the restraint it takes to hold back is almost too much. But he doesn’t rush. Instead, he takes his time, his hands trailing down your sides, his lips mapping every inch of your skin.

"God," he breathes, his eyes dark as they drink you in. "You’re perfect."

His words make you blush, but you can’t bring yourself to look away. There’s something intoxicating about the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. "Tell me if it’s too much," he whispers, his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

"I will," you promise, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

Slowly, he shifts, the tip of him pressing against your entrance. Your breath catches, your body tense with anticipation.

"Relax," he murmurs, his hand soothing over your hip. "I’ve got you."

The reassurance in his voice helps, and you force yourself to take a deep breath as he begins to push in. The stretch is intense, a mixture of discomfort and pleasure that leaves you gasping.

"That’s it," he whispers, his lips brushing against your temple. "You’re doing so well, baby."

When he’s fully seated inside you, he stills, giving you a moment to adjust. His forehead rests against yours, his breath ragged, his hands gripping your hips as though anchoring himself.

"Tell me when," he says, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

You take a moment to catch your breath, your body adjusting to the sensation of him filling you completely. When the discomfort fades, replaced by a deep, aching need, you nod. "Now."

He starts to move, slow and deliberate at first, his strokes measured as he watches your face for any sign of discomfort. But as your moans grow louder, your nails digging into his shoulders, he picks up the pace, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate.

The pleasure builds quickly, coiling low in your belly until it feels like you’re on the verge of breaking apart. His name falls from your lips in a breathless chant, and he responds with a groan, his hands tightening on your hips.

"Come for me," he whispers, his voice rough, his movements relentless.

And you do. The orgasm rips through you, leaving you trembling and gasping as he chases his own release. When he finally follows, his body shuddering above you, it’s with your name on his lips, his voice thick with reverence.

Spencer collapses onto you, his weight warm and grounding as you both struggle to catch your breath. For a moment, the room is silent, save for the sound of your mingled breathing. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, and you feel the soft press of his lips against your skin, a tender contrast to the intensity you’ve just shared.

You run your fingers through his messy hair, the strands damp with sweat. He hums softly, nuzzling closer, as though reluctant to put any distance between you.

"You okay?" he murmurs, his voice muffled against your neck.

You nod, though the motion feels feeble with the way your body is still trembling. "Yeah," you whisper, your voice hoarse. "More than okay."

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you. His brown eyes are warm, searching your face with a softness that makes your chest ache. "You’re incredible," he says, brushing a thumb over your cheek.

Heat rises to your face again, and you can’t help but laugh lightly. "You’re not so bad yourself, Doctor Reid."

His lips twitch into a shy smile, but the teasing glint in your tone isn’t lost on him. "Not bad?" he repeats, arching an eyebrow. "I’ll take that as a challenge to improve."

The playful remark sends a flutter through your chest, and you swat at his arm. "Don’t push your luck," you say, but the grin tugging at your lips betrays you.

Spencer leans down, capturing your mouth in a kiss that’s slow and unhurried, as though savoring every second. It’s a stark contrast to the passion you’d shared just moments ago, but it feels just as consuming.

When he finally pulls away, he shifts to lie beside you, his arm looping around your waist to pull you close. You nestle into his chest, the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear a soothing rhythm.

You smile against his skin, feeling a warmth settle over you that has nothing to do with the lingering heat of your encounter. The weight of reality begins to creep back in—the uncertainty of what comes next, the implications of what you’ve just done—but in this moment, you let it all fade away.

Spencer’s hand moves in gentle circles on your back, lulling you into a state of peace. "For the record," he says softly, his voice tinged with a mix of humor and sincerity, "this was way better than the video."

You laugh, a sound that feels lighter than you’ve been in weeks, and tilt your head to look up at him. "Good," you reply, resting your chin on his chest. "Because I don’t think I’ll ever look at a screen the same way again."

He smiles down at you, his fingers brushing over your hair in a soothing rhythm. "Good," he echoes, his voice filled with a possessiveness that sends a thrill down your spine.

As exhaustion begins to creep in, your eyes grow heavy, and you let yourself relax completely against him. For the first time in what feels like forever, you feel safe, desired, and completely content.

[darkwitchoferie]

Pillow Fight

Summary: You’ve been friends with Jisung since he moved back to Korea to become an idol. He’s one of the best people you know so it’s no surprise you’ve fallen in love with him. It is, however, a surprise to you that he might feel the same way.

Cw/tw: unprotected piv sex, oral (m receiving), fingering, vocal Jisung, teasing sex, nipple play (both)

Wc: 3.4k

This fic is part of a series of unconnected best friends to lovers fics, the others of which can be found on my master list.

You didn’t bother knocking on the door, instead letting yourself into Jisung’s apartment. Minho had told you that he’d left it unlocked when he’d left for the night. As much as you loved hanging out with both Jisung and Minho, it felt like it had been ages since you’d had some one-on-one time with your best friend. Objectively, that may not have been true. But, being that you were more than a little in love with the man, it certainly felt like it.

It wasn’t surprising that you’d fallen in love with your best friend, at least according to your other friends. They’d all insisted that you’d been in love with him for longer than you’d realized and, after nights of agonizing over it, you had to admit to yourself that they may have been right. He was so sweet, so caring always, hilarious, not to mention his looks, how could you not be in love with him.

“Y/nnie!” Jisung rounded the corner from his kitchen to the living room, immediately enveloping you in a tight hug. You squeezed back just as hard, hoping that would keep him from noticing the way you melted into his arms. “I set up the living room all comfy, got snacks, there’s pizza on the way, and I got Mario Kart set up. You’re so going down this time.”

“Yeah right,” you scoffed. You’d never lost Mario Kart, not to Jisung anyway. “I’m starving though. Kick your ass after food?” You offered with a bright smile.

“You’re not going to! But sure, we can wait for your demise until after food.”

Settling into the mound of pillows and blankets Jisung had cleared space for on the living room floor, the pair of you chatted, catching up while you waited for pizza. Thankfully, he was a tactile person so there was no problem with you leaning into his space all the time. You probably shouldn’t have done it, it usually made your fantasies that much more vivid later, but you couldn’t help yourself.

You were into the fourth round of Mario Kart, you having won the previous three, when – just as you were rounding the last curve – a pillow hit the side of your head, causing you to crash and Jisung to overtake you, winning the last race.

“Han. Jisung.” His celebration was cut short very quickly at the venom-masked glee in your voice. “You absolute cheater!” You grabbed the pillow and pummeled him in his chest and shoulders with it.

“Ah! Mercy! Mercy!” He pleaded, laughing. You let up just a little and he grabbed one of the other pillows, getting a good smack into your side while your guard was down. His apartment was filled with both of your laughter as an all-out pillow war started. At some point, you ended up with two pillows, using the larger one as a shield, while he was what could only be described as duel-wielding pillows.

Then, out of nowhere, he lunged at you, forgoing his pillows to tackle you into the mound of remaining pillows and blankets. His fingers immediately found the ticklish spot on your ribs, mercilessly attacking as you laughed and squirmed under him, your own pillows quickly forgotten. You reached for him, intending to return the tickle-attack, but he swiftly grabbed both your wrists in one of his hands, pinning your hands above your head.

You both seemed to realize the position you were in at nearly the same time, laughter dying out as he hovered over you, one hand splayed over your ribs, the other still holding your wrists. Your legs were splayed wide, bracketing his hips.

He stared down at you, the teasing grin slowly sliding off his face. You could feel the tension between you shift. What had been playful less than a minute earlier suddenly took on a new, thicker tension as he took too long to move off of you. You watched as his gaze dropped down to your lips and back up again. You couldn’t help mirroring him – you’d stared at Jisung’s lips often enough when he talked, wondering what they’d feel like against every part of your skin that having them this close was both a dream and almost physically painful.

You couldn’t hold back the whine that escaped you when he shifted as if he were going to move away. His eyes flashed, some emotion you didn’t quite recognize hidden in their depths. He tilted his head, as if asking a question, then slotted his lips perfectly against yours. Your hands flexed in his grip, aching to touch him and unable to do so. He felt your hands move and shifted his grip, releasing one hand but entwining his fingers with the other, clinging tightly as he brought his free hand up to cup your cheek, tilting your head so he could deepen the kiss.

His hand slid around to the back of your neck as he swiped his tongue over your bottom lip, groaning lightly in response to your whimper as you opened your mouth to him, letting his tongue slide over yours. You buried your now free hand in his hair, tugging gently on the strands. He pulled away, just enough to shift and press soft kisses to your jaw and back toward the sensitive spot under your ear.

“Tell me to stop, Y/nnie,” he muttered against your skin, right by your ear. “I can’t,” he swallowed and you could practically feel his Adam’s apple move with how close he was. “I don’t think I can stop if you don’t make me. Please. If you don’t wa –”

“Don’t stop,” you cut him off, voice breathy, tightening your hold on his hair. “Please, don’t stop.”

He groaned, pulling away from your neck to claim your lips again, his hold on your hand almost painfully tight. This time it was you pulling a whimper from him when you nipped his bottom lip. His hand slid down from the back of your neck, over your collar bone, down your side, to your hip. You swore you could feel the heat of his hand through your jeans, searing into your skin.

His hand slowly slipped under the hem of your shirt, thumb gently rubbing against the skin of your belly. You arched slightly, pressing against his hand and silently letting him know you were okay with him moving higher. His hand slid higher, your shirt moving up with it. It wasn’t until he had to pull away from your lips that you realized he’d also have to let go of your hand to take your top off. You sat up a bit, letting him pull your shirt off while you reached behind yourself and quickly undid your bra.

“Hang on, did you do that with one hand?”

You giggled. “Yeah, Ji. I’ve had a lot of practice getting the damn thing off.”

“Can you take it off without taking off your shirt too? I’ve heard girls can do that.”

You laughed again, some part of you relaxing, thrilled that Jisung was still the same man he’d always been, despite the new situation you were in. “Yeah. Tight long sleeves are harder, but yeah, I can.”

“Awesome. How ca –” he stopped dead as you finished removing your bra, tossing it toward the couch beside you.

“How what?” you asked with a sly grin.

“You’re gorgeous, Y/nnie,” he breathed. You’d always kind of suspected Jisung was a boob guy. Now, with the way his gaze was locked on your chest, you knew it. Distantly, you were aware you should probably be self-conscious, but the heat in his gaze left no room for you to feel any kind of doubt. You reached out, tugging at his shirt until he pulled it over his head, tossing it away. He leaned back over you, pressing you back into the blankets and pillows you hadn’t been using for the pillow fight, and reclaimed your mouth.

You decided right then that you could kiss Jisung forever and never get bored with it. The way his lips pressed and slid against yours, the sounds he made when you tugged on his lower lip, the way his tongue tangled with yours made you want more even while he was still kissing you.

He pulled slightly back, enough to talk but you could feel his lips move against yours. “I want…. Y/nnie, I want to see all of you. Please? I need –” he moaned, feeling your hand slide between your bodies to undo the button and zipper on your jeans. He helped slide your pants and panties off, tossing both toward the rest of your clothes. “Look at you,” his fingers danced up both your calves, slid over your knees, his palms coming to rest on your thighs to hold you open to his hungry gaze. “You’re so pretty, Y/nnie. So beautiful.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of one knee as his right hand traveled further up your thigh. You moaned when his thumb gently swiped over your lips. “And so wet already. You’re so good to me,” he smiled, coming up to press open mouthed kisses against your belly, sucking a couple hickeys against your ribs, working his way up as he slid his fingers over and between your pussy lips. At the same moment he reached your boobs, wrapping his lips around one nipple, he slipped his middle finger into you. You gasped at the dual sensation, back arching toward him, hand coming to tangle in his hair again.

He gently sucked on your nipple, pulling away a little to lave over it with his tongue, until it hardened completely. Then he switched sides, doing the same to the other, as his free hand came up to fondle the boob he’d just had in his mouth. Distracted by the feeling of his lips and tongue on you, you were surprised when his ring finger joined his middle one inside you. You moaned low in your throat, knees coming up to squeeze against the sides of his hips as if trying to hold him to you.

His thrust his fingers into you at a steady pace, fully ignoring your clit, while laving attention on your tits. He sucked a hickey into the side of one, while rolling your other nipple between his thumb and index finger then switched sides – kitten licking your nipple and gently pinching and plucking at the other. Moans and whimpers seemed to be constantly falling from your lips, so much so that you were pretty sure it was all morphing into one sound.

He pulled his mouth away, grinning up at you. “So sensitive, my baby,” he teased, thumb continuing to brush over your hardened nipple. He leaned in, blowing a stream of air over the same nipple, chuckling when your hips rolled against his hand.

You narrowed your eyes at him, not that he saw, and carefully raked your fingernails over one of his nipples pulling a whine from him. Judging by the look he shot you, he was as surprised by the sound he made as you were. Using one leg and his own surprise, you quickly flipped the pair of you over. Grinning down at him from where you now sat over his hips, you scratched your nails over both his nipples at once.

“Oh shit.”

“Mm, I know. Feels good, doesn’t it baby?” You didn’t give him a chance to answer, not that you needed one, before bending over him and licking over one nipple then the other. Beneath you, you felt his cock twitch in his pants and couldn’t have stopped yourself from rolling your hips against him if you wanted to. You covered your own moan at the feeling by wrapping your lips around his nipple and gently sucking.

“Oh god baby. No – ugh – wonder –” he cut himself off as you swirled your tongue around his nipple, then gently bit down before moving over to give the other the same treatment. You smiled to yourself when you felt his hips kick up against you.

You trailed kisses and licks across his pecs, then down over his abs, sucking hickeys into the spots that made him squirm. He buried the fingers of one hand in your hair, the other tightly fisted into the blankets under him. Gently biting his abs and smiling at the whimpered moan that pulled from him, you brought your hands to the button and zip of his jeans, quickly ridding him of both his jeans and boxers. Once freed, his hard cock bounced against his abs, leaking precum.

You pulled away enough to comfortably situate yourself on your knees between his spread thighs. You let your gaze travel all over his chest, admiring the hickeys you’d left, the sheen of sweat, and the way his chest rose and fell rapidly. You locked eyes with him, smiling sweetly as you scratched your nails up his thighs. He groaned out, hips lifting of their own accord.

“Who’s sensitive now, baby?” you teased, grinning at the whimper you received in response. You refocused on your goal, his cock. You looked down, admiring him for just a moment. He was, for you, the perfect length and thickness, with a curve that looked like it’d feel amazing buried in you. Words left you for a moment, but if you’d been able to, you’d have told him how pretty his cock was. You leaned down, licking a thick stripe up the underside of him, swirling your tongue around his leaking tip when you reached it.

“Baby,” he whined out, cutting off into a choked moan when you wrapped your lips around him and took the first two inches of his cock in your mouth. You set a steady rhythm, bobbing your head in his lap, listening to the pretty moans falling from your best friend’s lips. His hand found it’s way back into your hair and he gripped it like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. He didn’t try to guide your movements, just held on. “God, look so good, baby.”

Your pussy clenched with every moan, every mumbled praise, you pulled from him until you couldn’t take it anymore. It felt like you were teasing yourself now. You pulled off him, his hand falling from your hair, and crawled up to settle over his hips.

“Y/nnie?”

“Yeah, Ji?”

“I don’t have any condoms,” he flushed, embarrassed.

“I’ve got an IUD and I’m clean. You good?” He nodded frantically. You bent over him, basically laying on top of him, to claim his lips in a deceptively soft kiss. Your hips rolled where you were, rolling your wet lips over his cock. He groaned into your mouth and kicked his hips up against you, causing you to smirk against his lips.

Pulling away, you shifted so you were hovering over his cock. His hands tightly gripped your hips as you sank slowly down onto him, giving yourself time to adjust as you went. You wanted to close your eyes, absorb the pleasure you were feeling, but you couldn’t tear your eyes from his big, boba ones, staring up at you like you hung the moon for him alone. Finally, hips flush against his, cock fully buried in your cunt, you sighed out your pleasure, tilting your head back and just feeling, letting yourself adjust to the feeling of being full.

His hands left your hips, smoothing up your sides, and quickly finding that one spot just below your ribs that had you squirming at the first touch, then bursting into laughter when he dug his fingers in to tickle you. He laughed with you, but both of your laughter cut off into moans with the way it jostled your bodies. His hips kicked up again, thrusting just a little deeper into you.

You rolled your hips, bracing your hands on his abs, and setting yourself a comfortable rhythm. You’d never much liked this position, your knees and thighs always ached fairly quickly, but as you looked down at Jisung, watching him come apart under you, you figured you’d be able to push through the discomfort when it came. His hands slid up from the spot on your ribs, both coming up to cup your boobs.

You tossed your head back, moaning, when he rolled both nipples between his fingers. You let your hands slide up to his nipples, gently tugging on both.

“Oh god. I need – mm – I need –”

“What do you need, Ji?” He pressed a hand to the small of your back, pushing you forward against him. The hand on your lower back shifted to hold your hip so he could thrust up into you. Your hands quickly shifted from balancing on his abs to bracing on either side of his head to hold yourself somewhat up. Your back arched a bit at the new angle and the way he rubbed against your g spot this way. He leaned up, wrapping his lips around one nipple, sucking it into his mouth.

“Oh god,” you groaned out, feeling him rake his blunt fingernails down one side of your back. Your arms wobbled a little, so you relaxed, laying yourself almost flat on him. His mouth had to leave your tits, but he switched to open mouthed kisses along your neck and shoulder as he held you tightly against his chest.

Then without warning, he quickly flipped the pair of you so you were on your back, his cock still buried in you.

“There,” he smiled down at you. “I always knew you’d look gorgeous under me.”

“Oh yeah? Think about me often?”

“All the time, baby. Every time.” You moaned, cunt clenching around him at the implication in his words. “Do you like that, my baby?” he rolled his hips, gently thrusting into you. “Do you like knowing that every time I touch my cock it’s to thoughts of you? That every time I make myself cum, it’s your name I’m moaning out?” You moaned and whimpered in response to his words. “God, baby, you sound even better than I ever imagined.”

You wrapped your hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down to claim his lips in a messy kiss. He kissed down your jaw and neck, hips picking up speed. You wrapped your legs around his waist, one hand buried in his hair, the other clutching his back to keep him close to you. You felt and heard his moans against the skin of your neck, every one an echo of each of yours.

“Getting close baby. Need to feel you cum on my cock. Can you do that? Please? Need to feel you milk my cock, baby.” You nodded frantically, feeling your orgasm tightening your belly. He pulled slightly back, just enough to slide his hand between your bodies but still having his face buried in your neck. He rubbed quick circles against your clit with the pad of his thumb. “Need to see your face,” he moaned out, pulling away enough to look down at you when he felt your walls start to flutter around him.

Your hand slid out of his hair, clutching at his biceps, as the coil in your belly tightened. You stared up into his enraptured eyes as your back bowed off the blankets and your orgasm washed through you.

“God. So gorgeous baby. Love you so much. Look so good coming on my cock.” His hips picked up speed, chasing his own orgasm and fucking you through yours, until finally, he stilled and you felt his warmth flood your insides.

He collapsed on top of you for a moment, before gently pulling out and rolling over to lay on his back beside you as you both worked to catch your breath.

“Next time,” he said through shaky breaths, “I’m eating you out, make you cum at least twice to make up for not doing it this time. Make you sit on my face.”

You smiled, rolling to look at him. “When’s next time?”

“Mm, lemme take a nap, get my strength back.” He pulled you against his side.

“Sungie?”

“Hm?”

“Heat of the moment or did you mean it?”

“What?”

“You said you love me.” You didn’t fully have your breathing back under control, but it was enough to prop yourself up with a hand on his chest and look down at him, watching him flush. You couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed because he’d said it, or because of when he’d said it.

His fingertips gently danced over your lower back. “I mean it,” he whispered.

“Good,” you grinned, leaning down to claim his lips in a quick kiss. You pulled away just far enough to say, “I love you too.” The arm around your back tightened, pulling you flush against him.

[yandereunsolved]

Blood & Cheese Reborn - ,, yandere Aegon w/ an assassin reader

"𝘚𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯." word count: 3.6k cw(s): yandere themes, child murder, mentions of sexual assault, mention of miscarriage, descriptive gore, mutual sadism, degradation, suggestive themes (mild nsfw)

𓍢ִ໋🀦 An assassin, the assassin as some would call you. No one was truly aware of your backstory. Some said you were a disgraced general turned mercenary. Others whispered that you used to be an executioner for the kingdom and went mad, turning you into a lunatic who maims and dismembers for money. There was debate on whether you were a man or a woman—perhaps a third gender. Were you tall or short, common or noble, handsome or pretty? You were a tale that was told to children at night to scare them into behaving.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 That is exactly why Daemon Targaryen hired you. He needed you to kill Aemond Targaryen, the one-eyed prince and kinslayer. It was simply a son for a son. You were paid handsomely for this killing—over six thousand gold padded your pockets. 

You knew a thing or two about these sorts of tiffs between nobles. You had to carve some nobles' wannabe rapists eyes out the other night. You weren't being paid for it; you simply felt the need to. A rumor turned into you avenging a young, sweet noblewoman.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 The night of your perfected plans was foiled by a rival of yours. 'King' Aegon was warned about Daemon hiring you, and dozens of guards were posted at each possible entrance and exit. There was only one way to get in, and that happened to be the room in which Helaena and her children occupied. You didn't regret what you did; you relished it. You giggled as the so-called 'queen' cried out for you not to slay her son. 

You didn't just kill him; you cut off all his fingers and toes and neatly lined them up next to his favorite stuffed dragon toy. You cut off Helaena's ring finger and did the same to her daughter. You kept them and later gifted them to Daemon and Rhaenyra. It was safe to say that you soon became Team Black's most sought-after asset. 

You never agreed to work with them, never pledged your loyalty; you simply were willing to work for whoever paid you the most.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 To say Aegon was angry was an understatement. Furious? Livid? Enraged? Irate? No, there was no culmination of words that could express how much Aegon wished to have you tortured, stripped naked, and displayed on a spike at the entrance of the castle for all to see. His fantasies ranged from sadistic to depraved. They were limitless. They took up all the space in his mind that was supposed to be delegated towards comforting his grieving wife and winning the war against the Blacks.

The only thought was to have you pay. It would be you first and then the rest. It had to be you. You committed the sin, so you must pay tenfold.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 He lay awake at night with his anguish and enmity the only ones keeping him company. He refused to look at his wife's face, so he moved himself to a spare bed chamber. He spent his nights downing bottle after bottle of wine. His eyes were teary and red, and the violet within them seemingly paled to a grey. His eyebags rivaled those of any grandfather, and his thirst for revenge was much higher than that of Maegor the Cruel.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 You visited every other night. You'd taunt him gleefully and always escape before any guards arrived. You always had a cloak engulfing your figure and a hood casting shadows over your features. You always sat on the edge of the window with both legs firmly planted on the ledge. Whenever he tried to reach out to touch you, you seemed to vanish. You never even entered the chambers. He could no longer distinguish whether you were a reality or just a visage of all his guilt and wrongdoings coming to seek retribution. 

𓍢ִ໋🀦 As the moons passed, the pressure on Aegon and Helaena to copulate increased. The man who was known to fuck multiple whores a night couldn't stand to touch his wife. It wasn't just the fear of losing another kin of his; it was also a certain repulsion. Her body no longer seemed like a viable option. Her curves and supple skin seemed so unappetizing. There was no urge to lick and bite to claim; he simply wanted her to stay as she was.

Helaena acted as if she were distressed at her husband's lack of motivation, but she was internally relieved. She doesn't know if she'll ever be able to carry a child again. She is already so much more protective over Jaehaera after Jaehaerys's brutal assassination.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 His cock ached, and the fog within his mind only thickened after each drop of alcohol he consumed. He had piles of parchment ranging from displeased smallfolk to plans of war. You hadn't visited him that night, and his entire thought process was only about you. He aimlessly palmed himself through his trousers and slipped into a dreamless sleep after. 

𓍢ִ໋🀦 His revenge was only able to fuel him for so long, and now his body is spent. He hadn't seen you in his window for almost a full moon, and he had begun to think that you had moved on. His heart broke more at the thought. He would never be able to avenge the death of his beloved son. He would never be able to carry the crown on his head without it weighing his head down to the ground. The war would be won by The Blacks, and Rhaenyra would sit on the throne. His family would die, and it would all be because he was too weak.

Like a dragon, he needed warmth, and it seemed as if he had been deprived of it for far too long.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 After two moons, you finally returned with that dreadfully melodic voice of yours. One leg was thrown over the side into his bedroom, and the other perched upon the ledge. His lifeless eyes barely opened until you ignited the flame within his belly once again.

"Did the little King miss me?"

No, he did not. He was simply worried that he had missed the chance for revenge. 

"I heard you can't get your dick up for your wife. You're even more pathetic than I thought you were. You'll never have another son to replace the one I killed at this rate. Such a shame. I was looking forward to murdering that one to!"

He shot out of bed and tried to grab a hold of your cloak. He merely stumbled and fell flat on his face.

"Stupid boy, you never learn."

Like the winds you moved. One moment within his reach, and the next, halfway down the castle wall, to only the gods know where.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 He's slightly ashamed to say that's the first time he's been able to relieve himself since his son's death. He imagined how you appeared and how you would look standing over him. That smug smirk on your features, the one so evident in your voice. Cock or breasts—both, neither, either—he didn't care. He was simply too willing to be looked down upon—just so he could titter and then slaughter you.

Filled with such conflicting emotions, two beasts fought over what course of action was needed. He would have to keep you for questioning, surely. If he killed you outright, then he wouldn't have a chance to know about his opposition.

He couldn't stop biting down on his lips to suppress his noises. He couldn't help the few tears that escaped the eyes that were temporarily a vibrant violet. He whined in a manner undignified and unbecoming of a king. Your title simply falls past his swollen lips with heavy breaths. 

"Stupid fucking assassin."

"Just an insignificant assassin."

"A-Assassin."

"Mommy."

𓍢ִ໋🀦 He felt invigorated for the first time since your appearance. His thoughts became more violent, twice as lewd. No one knew what happened with him that night. No one could know. His mother interrogated him, and he simply said that he made a change. Alicent did not buy that excuse for one moment but didn't press further. As long as he got his act together and ruled like a king, she was satisfied.

She did send Ser Criston to investigate, and he came back with a gash in his chest and a wound right above his navel, courtesy of you.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 She couldn't help but rush him to the maester. She doted on him after behind closed doors. He deserved it after everything he had been through. Alicent couldn't help but feel as if it were some slight towards her. As if this assassin knew her secret, her love.

"Ser Criston, it was that damned assassin that harmed you, wasn't it?"

"Yes, my queen."

She wished to blame Aegon. The assassin never seemed to take notice of anyone else in the family after the horrific tragedy of Jaehaerys's untimely death. You only seemed to harass her eldest son. She suspected it to be Aemond, who was your original target. Why not kill him now? 

She should chastise her son for not being more vigilant. He was the second most grief striken; he pledged revenge over and over, yet the one who committed the action always escaped him without so much as a scratch. She only lectured Aegon further and spoke about how he should rekindle his relationship with Helaena.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 Aegon could barely find it in himself to bed his wife. He was nearly being forced to do so by his court and mother, but he could only look at Helaena and see your hooded figure. He had never felt more fulfilled than imagining your body was the one beneath him instead of hers.

Helaena was absent as always, her mind drifting off into thoughts of the future. She did not mind Aegon's method, but she wasn't entirely enthusiastic about being put through it.

Something felt off to her—a foreboding sensation that crept from her stomach into her soul. It made her spine tingle. Her chest would tighten to the point where she was barely able to take a breath.

It was because of a dream she recently had—a reoccurring one. Someone else was cradling the dragon egg she promised for her next child, as it seemed that she would have to perform her duty and bear another. She could tell by their hands that it was not her holding the egg. The hands had many more callouses and a multitude of scars.

She only verbalized it to a single person.

They were a kind traveler simply passing through. She knows she shouldn't have burdened a stranger; they could have been a spy, but it just felt right to do so.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 It was the first time he had slept in the same bed as his wife since the incident. So, like a predator, you struck when he was vulnerable and spent once again. He can't lie; his heart palpitated and his violet pupils dilated due to more than just the darkness. He could feel his body flushing once again after being graced with the outline of your figure standing at the edge of his room. He dared not to speak first. For a moment, he wanted to drag you into this bed instead of tying you down and beating the answers out of you.

You could see the need in his violet irises. The draconic king was ravenous and wanted to devour you. It was so endearing. You were only here for answers, as always. Daemon eagerly shoved gold into your hands so he could receive the information you collected. It was a win-win. You got to play with the king and then go undercover for answers. You even caught a kingsguard the other day, the queens plaything. Now you get to see a mama's boy with a confused libido, all because of little old you.

"Is your precious wifey full of another of your kin yet? Did you enjoy it? Did you think of me? Oh, mommy~. You're just a love-starved boy, aren't you?"

How did you know that one word escaped his lips over seven nights ago? God's damn it. He meant nothing by it. It wasn't even directed toward the assassin. It wasn't directed toward anyone! He was so drunk out of his mind that he could have said something asinine, and you would have taken it as purely sexual.

He was stunned for a moment and then refused to speak. He wouldn't give you the pleasure.

"Baby boy is mad at his mommy, or would you prefer to call me daddy? You can call me that since you don't have one of those either."

"Assassin—"

You were gone, hurriedly this time. He just barely got a glimpse of your features being shone in the moonlight. He now had another problem to take care of, all thanks to you—stupid... person.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 It had been over eleven moons since your first appearance. Many people had fallen in war and illness; there were talks of King's Landing being taken over. Helaena was with child and then miscarried due to the stress she was under. His wife is now in a deep depression, and Aegon himself is struggling to keep the crumbling greens together. 

He could no longer say that he despised you, for he found solace in your mocking words. He needed to keep you in his presence. He needed to cage you. He needed to show you who you belonged to.

What if you left him? What if you decided that he had become too much of a bore? What if you chose to—what is he thinking?

This is all part of your plan.

You won't win.

You'll end up bent over the war room table, begging to be forgiven by him.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 That's what he thinks. It's what words he may dare to spill from his lips. He had to move to a separate chamber if he was to get back at you. It was the only thing that kept him sane. The thought of finally kneading your flesh and claiming it as his. To think of whispering tantalizing words into your ear, for you to whine and come undone as he has because of you.

His goblet is almost empty as the hour of ghosts arrives. You always appear at this time, until you don't. You turn up during the hour of the wolf, weakened. You have a hand clutching your side, and your breathing is ragged. There's a trail of blood marking the edge of the window. Your gloved hand was a deep crimson, leaving the prints of your agony behind on whatever you clung to.

He's half-clothed. He feels the urge to shed the rest of the layers as soon as he lays his eyes on you. His eyes were semi-lidded, and now they are greedily taking in such a precious sight. A gift from the gods.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 You collapsed on the stone floor before him. Your features are easily accessible for his consumption. His nimble fingers slipped the hood of the cloak off your face, and he felt as if he had won the war right then and there. 

"The blacks most valuable asset laying right beneath me. Do you regret your words now, ñuha sentys₍₁₎?"

"Never."

Even your voice was hoarse, so soft and unconfident, unlike the tone you used to spit vitriolic words at him for so many moons. 

His hands were vigorously shaking. His mind began outpacing his ability to comprehend.

He had you within his grasp. What was he now going to do?

Lua ao, zȳhon byka ruarilaksa.₍₂₎

𓍢ִ໋🀦 He would later learn that there were rumors of you getting ambushed. You had come back to kill off his younger brother, and you were jumped by a group of mercenaries. He was unable to scavenge any further details of the fight, except for the fact that you became injured and still tried to follow through with your plan. Aemond stated that he saw your figure briefly. Aemond was speaking with another kingsguard at that time. Then you must have retreated to his room for some unknown reason. 

The story is strange, but considering the scarcity of true tales about you and your elusiveness, it isn't unbelievable.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 You would later be forced into some hastily thrown-together room in a secluded part of the dungeons. You awoke to the long gash in your side cleaned and bandaged, your limbs shackled, and your fine fabrics used to conceal yourself replaced with some useless, dainty nightgown. 

The dungeon room was mostly bare. There wasn't a guard to be seen, but you could hear the faint voices of at least two down the corridor. It had a cot with a blanket and a feather-filled pillow. An old rug was placed on the grimey stones. It left you with a bit of padding. The entire cell stinks of rotten flesh and broken spirits. 

You loved it.

It was the perfect place to escape from.

You just needed to heal and find some way to slip out of these chains. You could then steal a guard's uniform and get out of this horrid sleepwear.

It's so thin you can nearly your skin through the translucent cloth.

Damn king.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 You would not see him until the morrow. You broke your fast with a bowl of porridge and two slices of bread. You were given a glass of dry Arbor red wine. All the while, Aegon was staring at you with an expression you couldn't quite decipher. You weren't shy about scarfing down the food. You were irritated that he now knows of your features and perhaps others, but it wasn't the end of your career.

You have been known by many names in your years of assassinry. You have had to erase your past on numerous occasions.

It wouldn't be the first time you had to kill a king. It certainly won't be the last.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 This became a monotonous routine. Aegon would bring you your meals and you would eat them in silence. He never said a word to you. He simply stared at you, seemingly appraising you. You were still unable to tell his thoughts. You knew that he was wrapped around your finger. That much was made clear to you.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 Aegon kept every guard's mouth shut and didn't allow any of his family members to know you were down in the dungeons. They may try to kill you! Only he is allowed to decide your fate. After all, he is the true ruler of the Iron Throne.

He does suspect that Daemon and Rhaenyra will eventually notice your absence. He doesn't know the inner workings of your relationship with the Blacks, but you must be close enough to where they would become concerned.

He'd lie awake at night and think about it once again. There were so many things he could do to you that he became paralyzed by the opportunity before him.

He simply kissed his wife's head and made his way down to the dungeons once again.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 Aegon decided to do what you had been depriving him of for so long. He gives into that need for you, and you so willingly reciprocate. He gets lost in it. He almost loses his mind entirely. He can't decide whether he enjoys degrading you or being degraded by you more. 

It becomes a daily thing for him. An addiction that he doesn't wish to acknowledge or stop.

He never takes off your chains or gives you moon tea. If you miraculously bore his child, then perhaps he would let you.

Oh, it becomes a regularly occurring fantasy for him.

You bearing a male heir for him. The male heir that would replace the son you took. He would never allow you to have your child. He would raise it as if it was Helaena's. The look of anguish and the hurt in your voice to be denied the thing you created. It fills him with a crazed glee.

Perhaps you can't have kids at all, but it doesn't stop his dream of giving himself pleasure and making you suffer to the cruelest extent.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 He dresses you up in the skimpiest and frilliest things he can find. It's partially for his viewing pleasure and partially so you won't have anything to escape in. It's safe to say that it never stays on you for very long. 

Anything to remind you that you're beneath him.

Always.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 He uses you as a release for all his pent up emotions. He shares random things about himself and his day. He asks you questions about yourself and hangs onto every word you say. He no longer sees your jabs at him as hate filled; no, they've been playful and loving all along. You just wanted his attention. That's why you've done all these unforgivable things.

You're insecure.

He understands that. He needs to pay more attention to you.

So he carves his name into you with his precious dagger. He marks you in any way that pleases him; he loves to keep them fresh. He just needs to make sure that you know who you belong to. 

He doesn't want to see you getting into a tizzy and attacking him again, even if it excites him.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 Since capturing you, the progress of the opposition has slowed. He has been winning numerous battles. The Greens have gained significant ground.

Who are you, truly?

How big of a part have you really played in this civil war?

He has to know. So he goes back down to the dungeon with an even more urgent need for information. 

You're gone.

"Mittys, mittys, mittys! Eminna zirȳ arlī. Nyke'll emagon se guard's bartos bona ivestragī zirȳ henujagon!"₍₃₎

You only left a hastily scribbled note with a few barely legible words on it.

"𝘜𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨."

— 𝘈ō𝘩𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘺𝘴₍₄₎

ᝰ translation(s) ᝰ.ᐟ

1. ñuha sentys = my killer

2. Lua ao, zȳhon byka ruarilaksa. = Keep you, his little secret.

3. Mittys, mittys, mittys! Eminna zirȳ arlī. Nyke'll emagon se guard's bartos bona ivestragī zirȳ henujagon! = Idiot, idiot, idiot! I will have them back. I'll have the guard's head that let them leave/escape.

4. Aōha sentys = Your killer

𖹭 tag: ( @eexphoria ) 𖹭

[catsteeth]

Sugar & Violence

Podrick Payne x reader 

+:✿ Chapter 1 ✿:+ : Lucky Boy

chapter 2

Summary: You’re a Mormont being held hostage by House Lannister.  You are acting now as the Handmaiden for Margery Tyrell, whom you’ve grown quite close with. But it seems that a squire has caught your attention as you have caught his. 

CW: afab reader, slow burn, mention violence, blood, mention of harassment, mention of NSFW themes.

A/N: I am not giving up on the leashed dog series yall I promise I have just been PINING for pod the rod recently… and tbh we need a little sweetness with everything happening in the other series okay. He is a rom com boy trapped in a medieval fantasy war and I feel so bad for him.

Word Count: 3348 

It had been many days now being held by the Lannisters. You’d no real duties on Bear Island as it was such a small house. Your Aunt was a fierce leader and needed no guidance. You had chosen to venture off of Bear Island to celebrate your coming of age. You decided to travel all over the realm, you wished to see the world and experience all of it. However at a tavern near Kings Landing a man decided to grab at you. You hated it when men did that, so you took your cup of ale and smashed the whole cup into his nose. 

It broke of course, and of course, like a child he wept. If a man had done such to another man no one would have batted an eye. But because it was a gold cloak you “assaulted”, and because you were you, a Mormont. An enemy house, you were arrested and brought to the Lannisters. They thought of killing you but instead decided to make use of you.  

And they did make good use of you. With you there, Bear Island would be swayed away from ever siding with Stannis against them with you in your custody. Not only that but you were trained in healing, and not nearly as hardened looking as the other women of Bear Island. You were made Handmaiden for Margery Tyrell while she was inhabiting the city. 

Margery had done her part in helping you fit in. She showed you how to style your hair, how to pick a dress that suited your figure, how to manipulate the men around you, keeping you out of any more unnecessary trouble. When she dressed you up, no one would be able to tell you could swing a sword just as well as any Kingsgaurd or sellsword could. 

You see Margery had to pretend in front of everyone else, but with you, you weren’t loyal to the Lannisters and she knew this. Besides you two had bonded after many nights drinking wine late at night in her bedchambers. Like two little girls who had stolen their fathers ale. You’d spend the nights talking of your lives and your wishes. 

Margery was the same again and again, to be the queen. And yours was always the same, to live life and experience all you could.

You and she also talked of men. You’d had experience, and so had she. Not many women would admit it but you two were close enough that you felt you could. 

You and she attended many festive celebrations with one another, and to anyone else it would seem you were enjoying your time there. That was good, you did not want to attract any attention. 

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Your station as a handmaiden made it easy to overhear and eavesdrop on many high born conversations. One that caught your attention the most was that Janos Slynt, the commander of the gold cloaks, the man who arrested you, was going to be dismissed from his duty.

You weren’t above pettiness. You wanted to hear him be dismissed with your own ears. You found a small room within the castle. Tyrion was hosting a small dinner with Slynt. This was going to be the dinner where he was going to be dismissed. You pressed your back against the wall beside the door listening in. The majority of the dinner was mindless small talk, until

“Damn it boy!” Slynt said loudly. 

The shout was so loud you couldn’t help but turn and peer into the room, catching a glimpse of the man who arrested you, Lord Tyrion Lannister, and a squire. You saw that the squire had spilt wine all over the hand of Slynt. It made you smile, holding in amusement. 

“My apologies my Lord.” The shorter brown haired squire said. 

“You can pour your own wine.” Tyrion said in defense of the squire.

You looked back to Slynt and saw that you had been seen, Slynt raised a brow at you. 

“You girl! You the Mormont?" Slynt said loudly, 

‘Fuck’ you thought to yourself. Knowing you’d been caught. 

“Indeed, My Lord.” You said, putting on a meek and sweet demeanor.

“Come in here,” Slynt commanded. 

“What are you doing here, My Lady?” Tyrion questioned you gently.

“Looking for my Lady Tyrell, I seem to have lost my way, My Lord.” You said bowing your head. A convincing enough lie.

“I was responsible for your arrest, do you remember that, girl.” His face was confident and irritating.

“I do, Ser.” You said still attempting to keep a sweet and calm demeanor.  

“I thought she was to be punished?” Slynt said to Tyrion.

“She is HandMaiden to Lady Margery Tyrell, and as I am told, a very skilled healer. She has proven to be quite useful.” Lord Tyrion said with a smile looking at you, you smiled back. 

“A girl assaults a member of the gold cloaks and is given a position in your Kingdom?” 

“A decision made by the King. If you wish to disagree with his decision-” 

“Course not.” Slynt interrupted,  “Wine,” he commanded, holding up his empty cup. 

The same squire began to walk towards the man with the pitcher of wine. 

“Not you, boy, the bear girl.” Slynt said looking at you, the irritation boiled inside of you. But you did your best to keep your cool.

You took the pitcher from the squires hands, you looked at him for a moment, his worried expression changed into a smile. It was a smile of total innocence you thought to yourself. 

You took the pitcher and walked your way towards the table, as you began to pour wine into his cup he started to speak again. 

“Tell me girl, are you enjoying the city?” His tone was one of an interrogator.

“Yes, My Lord.” You said pouring, with a cherubic smile. 

“You don’t look like the women of Bear Island.” He said biting his lip, it made you feel ill.

“Indeed, My Lord.” Agree blindly, that’s what Margery taught you anyway

“Women there are beasts,” He said to Tyrion.

“Like you I assume?” Tyrion teased him, it made you smile.

“No, no, like her aunt Maege.” He said and your smile dwindled, but you kept it on. 

You didn’t respond this time, biting your tongue, you felt the anger in you rising but said nothing. You wanted to pour the wine on his balding head, but still, did nothing.

“Tell me is it true, is it true she fucked a bear?” 

“Lord Slyn-” Tyrion began

“What do you wish for me to say, my Lord?” You felt your temper slipping from between your fingertips. Your smile now gone. 

“Do you think I wish for you to lie girl?” Slynt’s tone was harsh,

You stared at him for a moment, your smile snapping back into place. 

“Whatever you’d command, my Lord.”

“Enough.” Tyrion tried to stop it.

“You’d do anything I commanded?” 

“I said enough. Lady Mormont, you may see to your lady.” Tyrion commanded, saving you from whatever was to come next.

You smiled and curtseyed as you walked back to place the pitcher back on the table. With your back turned to the men your face dropped and you made eye contact with the same squire. He looked at you with pity in his eyes. You couldn’t stand it. You spit into the pitcher and smiled at the squire, he tried hard to hold back his amusement, only giving it away with a smirk as he looked down at his feet. 

As you walked out of the room you made sure not to make the same mistake as before. You hid better, committed to hearing this man be removed from his position. And you did, and it was just as satisfying as you thought it would be. Especially when he was escorted by his own gold cloaks out of the tower, kicking and whining like a child.

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During the Battle of Blackwater you attended to many mens wounds. 

It had taken most of the night, you were not concerned with the war that waged outside the castle walls. If they won, nothing changed for you. If they lost, you’d either be set free, or once again, nothing would change. Most likely it would be the latter.

You among a few other ladies attended to wounds and dying men while the Maester did as much as he could for those who were far gone. 

Things had slowed down, beds were nearly full, but then knights rushed in holding Lord Tyrion. His face had been cut deeply. The cut had crossed his entire face. You could tell at first glance that it would scar, but he would live. It would have been extremely painful but thankfully he was unconscious. 

They were all shouting at the Maester. To halt what he was doing and to attend to their lord. As he did a tall man, Bronn, the man who replaced Slynt. Dragged a shorter man with short dark hair towards the Maester.

“Lads hand is cut deep, needs help.” Bronn said

“I can’t attend to every cut and scrape when there's a dying lord in my presence.” The old Maester said, quite dramatically you thought. Tyrion was badly wounded but he would live. “Mormont, girl, you attend to the lad!” He shouted to you.

“Is she any good?” Bronn said, the other shorter man looked at you with what looked like embarrassment, “This lad saved that Lord's life.” You huffed at his comment, it annoyed you how he didn’t ask you but the Maester.

“If I’d a cock they’d call me a Maester.” You said walking closer to him til you were inches apart, it made him take a gasp of air puffing up his chest, and his lips formed a line. “Show me,” You said, much softer this time. He relaxed a bit and as you presented your hand, palm facing him. He placed his hand in yours. “Not so bad,” you said as you examined it. 

“Hear that Podrick, not bad-” Bronn said to the shorter man. 

“Not so bad. It is still bad.” You noticed his expression change to a more worried one. You, for some reason, felt the need to let your cold and hardened attitude slip for a moment. “But you won’t lose it. I’ll clean it, stitch it, and bandage it.” You placed your other hand over his, trying to comfort him. “Sit.” 

He nodded and did so, laying his hand on the table. You began to clean it. Your eyes snapped from his wound to his face as he winced. “Is it true?” he looked at you and his eyes made your stomach feel like there were butterflies in it, so you looked back to his wound as you tended to it, “You saved him? Lord Tyrion?” 

“I- I helped him, My Lady.” He said, stammering. Though you weren’t looking at him you could tell his eyes were on your face.

“You’re quite brave, Ser.” You said as you finished cleaning his wound.

“Thank you, My Lady, but I’m not-” 

“He’s no Ser, that lads a squire.” Bronn interrupted, “I tell you what though Lass, you want a knight I’ll be happy to oblige.” He said stepping closer to you, your eyes returned to your work on the squires hand.

“Men like you amuse me, Ser. They believe they are still young, handsome, and desirable. No matter what they look like.” You said attempting to fain genuine amusement as if he’d told a joke.

As Bronn attempted to begin a retort, you heard a small laugh leave the unconscious Lord’s lips, still not fully conscious.

“See? I am a good healer.” You said as everyone looked at Tyrion's subtle laugh as you continued to work. 

The squire looked back at you with a slight grin, as if he were trying to hide his amusement.

“Much braver for a squire to do such a thing.” You said softly just so he’d hear it. 

He smiled at you in response, He was pretty you thought. Men on Bear Island were fearsome, rigid, and gruff. This one wasn’t, the opposite in fact. He’d had a natural goodness about him, a sweetness. 

That's when you realized he was the same squire from the dinner between Ser Slynt and Lord Tyrion. 

“I know you.” You said with narrow eyes and furrowed brows, finally realizing. 

“Yes, my Lady.” His smile and innocent response made you smile involuntarily, you tried to hide it to no avail. You were flattered that he’d even remembered you. The feeling of flattery didn’t come naturally to you at all either.  

“This part is going to hurt.” You said pulling the curved needle through his flesh, he winced and hissed. Your eyes went towards him, normally you never cared. A man should learn to handle pain, you always thought. But you hated to see him in any discomfort. “Bring him wine.” You called out to Bronn. Your words towards Bronn were no near as gentle and sweet sounding as they were towards Podrick. 

He began to drink it, only sipping a little at first, but you pushed the cup up making him down more. “You’ll want to be numb to this.” You explained. 

As he continued to drink you continued with your work. By the end of it you bandaged his hand, “Finished,” You said standing up, and he followed your actions. 

“I can’t thank you enough, my lady.” He said clearly a little drunk from the wine. 

“Alright,” Bronn said grabbing Podrick by the back of his neck and dragged him out of the chamber. You could hear Bronn outside say “You can fuck the she-bear later.” followed by some distant protesting by Podrick.

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A day had passed since the battle. You were in your chambers with Margery. You’d told her about all the handsome knights you’d seen that night. 

She’d teased you about how lucky you were to have gotten your hands on so many. You had begun to describe the squire you’d met. How strange it was to have met a man so pleasant in such an awful place. 

As the two of you laughed there was a knock at your door. Margery took it upon herself to answer it. 

“Lady Tyrell, apologies for the interruption. I came to thank Lady Mormont.” You heard his voice and knew who it was immediately. 

“Ah! I take it you were a knight she tended to during the battle?” Margery asked him, you wanted to laugh, but held it in.

“A squire, my Lady.” He said, his tone was somewhat sullen. As if he were embarrassed to say it.

“A squire…” Margery said with her signature smile as she turned to look at you, raising her eyebrows, then turning back to him “Well I shall leave you to express your gratitude.” She said as she left.

You stood from your chair and stepped forward.

“Lady Mormont?” He said walking towards you, as he did he pulled out a small but beautiful delicate yellow flower. It had only recently bloomed. 

“A flower?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. On Bear Island people hardly said the word thank you much less showed appreciation through gifts, especially not such sweet ones as this.

“I don’t have much, my lady. But I- I wanted to show my gratitude.” He said with his token innocent wide eyed look. You took the flower and smiled slightly, which made him smile back.

“It was my duty, you don’t need to give me flowers for it.” He looked down, as if he was disappointed in himself. You smelt the flower, to show your hidden appreciation of the gesture. “Show me your hand.” You held your hands out, he hesitated not expecting you to command such a thing, but he did it as you asked. “Hurting at all?” You asked softly examining the cut.

“No, my lady.” His voice was gentle as always.

“It’s healing well.” You said running your finger tip along the length of the stitches, the sensation made him take his hand away, rubbing it against the side of his pants. 

He grunted a little and cleared his throat, “All your doing, my Lady.” 

You looked at him with a smirk, “How long have you been squiring for Lord Tyrion?” 

“For a short time,” 

“Well, you’ll need to learn to pour wine. You spill wine on every Lord in Westeros, sooner or later you’ll spill it on the wrong one.” You said walking towards a table, you grabbed a glass and a pitcher of wine.

“Pour me wine.” You said handing him a pitcher of wine.

You stepped closer towards him, making his swallow hard. But he took the pitcher nonetheless.

“hold the pitcher like this-“ You said moving his hands position with your own, “from the handle, and the bottom” You looked up into his eyes, noticing he was looking right at you “Keep your eyes on the glass.” You said, snapping him out of whatever trance he was in and going back to the task at hand. 

“Like this?” He asked, his voice somewhat more confident.

“Mhmm.” The hum of your voice too close to him made him close his eyes for just a moment. He finished filling your cup, without spilling a drop, “Very good.” As you said it he and you looked at one another, his eyes were wide once again.

“What were you doing there, my lady?” He asked, with a genuine curiosity. “You said you were looking for your Lady, and forgive me for suspecting otherwise-” 

“Eavesdropping.” You interrupted “I had heard they were sending Slynt away, and I wanted to hear it myself.” 

“How did you hear of that?” 

“Again, eavesdropping.” You smirked

“A-and what are you doing here, in Westeros? You were arrested?” 

“It seems you were also eavesdropping.” You teased him.

“Uh well we were in the same room-” You ignored him,

“I left Bear Island to travel, during my travels a Gold cloak tried to force himself on me, so I defended myself.” You said in a matter of fact, you’d no regrets, and no pain towards the matter. However his big brown eyes looked saddened for you, pity, you couldn’t stand pity, “It’s alright, really.” You said trying to reassure him.

“Do you miss your home?” He asked, sweetly.

“I do,” You responded softly, strange how this man was able to gentle your harsh demeanor.

“What was it like?” When he asked it you were thrown off, no one had asked you anything about your home in a genuine way. No one had any interest in it beyond the same constant boring insults.

“Cold. Not just the temperature, the people. But it was beautiful there. Green, rivers, waterfalls.” You smiled softly thinking of it, and found yourself wondering about him, “What of you? You miss your home?” 

“I didn’t have much of one, my Lady.” He lowered his head,

“How’d you get here?” Your eyes narrowed wanting to know more of him. Genuinely. 

“I was the squire for a Ser Lorimer of the Westerlands army. One night he was drunk, and he stole a ham, he shared it with me. We were caught, and he was sentenced to hang for his crime but I was spared for my name.” 

“Lucky boy.” You said with a smirk. One that made his stomach flip. 

“You are different, with the men at the tables. You’re sweet and… simple- but you're not that.” He said, stammering, trying his best not to offend you. 

Your smirk faded, “Men want sweet and simple. Men don’t beat things that are sweet and simple.” 

“You’ve been beaten?” He asked as if it were a horrific discovery. 

“Most girls have.” You said calmly in contrast 

“I-I am sorry, My Lady.” 

“That’s alright. "

“No, it’s not.” 

“No, it’s not.” You smiled softly at him. “You’re a good man, for a southern man. Or just for a man.” 

“Thank you, my lady.” He said with a slight grin. 

“You don’t have to call me that. (Y/N), will do.” 

“(Y/N)” he smiled to himself “(Y/N) Mormont… it is a pretty name.” His grin grew

“You never told me yours.” 

“Ser Bronn told you-“

“But you never told me.” You interrupted. 

“Podrick Payne, my- (Y/N)” He stumbled remembering to call you by your name. 

“Well, goodnight then, my Podrick.” You said teasingly with a smirk. 

Hearing you say those words, “my” followed by his name made a heat rush his face, a visible one. He licked his lips and bowed his head as he responded “Goodnight, (Y/N)” He said as he left you. 

You smelt the flower once more before Margery barged in, 

“A squire?” 

NOTE:  There is a serious drought of Podrick Payne fan fiction series on this app so I had to.  And yes… as always my babygirls, we will be fucking. JUST HOLD ON…  I don’t know dick about Slynt so his dialogue is probably off so i apologize if you love him or smth lmao.  TAG LIST: This is a new series so if you want to be included comment or message me!

[iron-strangers]

Dream a Little Dream of Me

Description: It's all true, Jedi can read minds. You've been trained to keep people's thoughts about you for so long. It went well until the day you caught Din's fantasy involving you.

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Female Jedi!Reader

Series: Expanding Clan Mudhorn

Tags: Established Relationships, Mand’alor Din Djarin, A Sprinkle of Family Fluff, Sexual Fantasy, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex (f receiving), Unprotected p-in-v, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Lactation Kink

CW: Reader has AFAB characterization, uses she/her pronouns, is able-bodied, has depicted body changes related to pregnancy and breastfeeding, and hair that can be pulled during sex. No Use of Y/N. Consent Issues: Reader peaks into Din's fantasy. NSFW MINORS DNI

Length: 2.7k

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According to urban legends, jedi can read minds. That's true, well, to an extent.

Jedi can read unshielded minds. A Jedi’s mental shield helps to prevent their minds so they’re not easily read, but also to prevent them from accidentally reading a non-force sensitive’s mind. This knowledge helped you survive being chased around the galaxy during the Empire’s reign. Imps are weak-minded and you could easily get any information you needed by reading their mind.

As you grew older, some thoughts people had about you turned sexual. Some got you blushing, like the one from a spacer who fantasized about sweet-talking you into having a quickie in the back of the cantina, some others were just plain disturbing and had you slamming a mental shield as quick as you can before fleeing the parameter with your blaster clutched in your hand.

During the old Jedi-Mandalorian war era, Mando'ade have found a way to keep the jetiise out of their head. Beskar helmets are effective for as long as you can remember, but apparently, there's a loophole. Beskar can't block a jedi who's already soul-bonded to a Mandalorian. There might not be any data about this, but let's be real, there's barely any noted soul bonds between a jedi and Mandalorian throughout history.

This explains the weird sync you and Din have. People have mentioned how you complete each other, that you have almost the same opinions on things, how you two always make the same decisions, both politically and on the battlefield. Some might even suggest that you and him finish each other's sentences. It's a cliché, written in teenager’s holonovels. So you're used to laughing it off, deflecting that you probably just spent too much time together, that between leading and parenting, agreeing on the same thing is just what spouses do. The Armorer called you ‘two halves of one warrior’ at your wedding ceremony. It should’ve ring an alarm in your mind, but in your defense, you were too busy getting swooned off your feet.

It became apparent one day when you met him in a small bakery, just a few minutes away from the Keldabe Palace, when he wasn’t supposed to be done until much later in the day. You’ve been craving Keshian Spice Rolls all day and you figured it was a great day to take the kids out, enjoy the sun and a little sweet treats, then surprise your hard-working riduur with a box of pastries back in the palace. Imagine your surprise when you stepped into a bakery and saw him already queuing.

“Rid’ika!” He called, waving to you from the line. You skipped over the lines, smiling and nodding to everyone as you made your way to your riduur. Din took Grogu from you so you can lift Aranar, who’s busy charming everyone off with his toothy grin, up.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, holding his offered hand. “You have to meet the Prince of Bespin in half an hour.”

“I know, but I heard they are baking Keshian Spice Rolls. So I went to buy you some.” Din shrugged, not once caring about the Prince having to wait for him to get back from spoiling his riduur. “And what about you? I thought you have a bes'kad class for the verd’ike this afternoon.”

“The class won’t start for another two hours and I really want a spice roll.”

You heard people behind you aww-ing and you buried your face into his shoulder, humming when you feel cool beskar against your blushing cheek. Din smiled behind his helmet, paying for three spice rolls to go, never once he let your hand go. You got back to the palace with twenty minutes to spare and herded the ad’ike to the Mand’alor’s office.

“Knock when you need him and don’t come in before I answer.” You rushed into the room when you spotted Kryze marching to stop you.

“You two better not be having se-”

“Young ears, Kryze! Manda, we’re just gonna eat Spice Rolls!” You held the pastry packages up for her to see, holding your laughter when you saw her scowling.

“Spice rolls better not be a code for something else, Djarin! You have a meeting in twenty minutes!”

Din closed the door on her face and you locked it with the force for good measure before dissolving into giggles. Din lifted his helmet up and immediately pressed a longing kiss to your lips. The kiss was uncoordinated since the two of you couldn’t stop grinning. The kiss, and the pastries were heavenly, Grogu and Aranar shared a piece, for your peace of mind. After all, it was you who had to wrangle two sugar-high toddlers in the training yard as you teach advanced sword techniques to a group of heavily armed teenagers who happened to be Mandalore's newly sworn warriors.

The impending knock finally came and you shared another sugary sweet kisses with your riduur before you put his helmet back on and sent him away to his duty. The door was barely closed when you were hit with realization.

Fuck, you thought. We’re soul-bonded.

**

Overall, there are worse people to be soul-bonded with. Having one with your own riduur is not a bad thing at all. Having one with your riduur without any source to soul-bond knowledge, however, is another piece of work. Putting a mental shield up against your own riduur feels wrong but you do it anyway, respecting his privacy to his own mind.

Until today.

Today, you feel a gentle nudge at your brick wall of a mental shield, laced with Din's warm force presence. You could've brushed him off and shielded yourself better, but you thought to yourself that a small peak wouldn't be bad.

You're wrong. Oh, you're so wrong because it's bad. Your hand directly flies towards your mouth and you try to stifle a moan as a yawn.

In his fantasy, Din had you bent over the meeting table and he's pounding into you. He has his hand on the small of your back, pressing you down to the table. You're completely naked against the table, pinned beneath the beskar of his armor. You can hear the filthy sound of his cock ramming into your sopping cunt. Din grabs a fistful of your hair, making you cry his name out loud, losing yourself to the stretch and the hard thrusts of Din's cock.

“Oh fuck-” you grit your teeth, clenching your fist on your thigh. You sit there, stunned, breathless, unable to stop watching.

“Can you feel how good this pussy stretches around me, rid’ika?” Din grunts, holding you so close to his hips while his fingers reach down, rubbing your swollen clit. “Such a good girl, do you wanna cum, mesh'la? Wanna soak my cock and make me give you another ik’aad?”

Maker, yes! You thought, trying your damn hardest not to whine while the version of you in his mind is whimpering and begging him to make you cum. Din leans to your ear, telling you to come. You’re shuddering in his arm, moaning his name in a punched out noise with a telltale sign of orgasm, and you snap yourself out of his imagination.

You put your strongest mental shield up and you lean to the plush seat, blinking and looking around the room as you settle yourself back to reality. Din is sitting on the head of the table, looking over his own datapad as he watches a member of his council talk about Mandalore’s quarterly budget report. If you didn’t know better, you’d think your riduur is actively listening to the report instead of daydreaming about fucking you over this very table.

You tread carefully when you're back home. You put Aranar and Grogu to sleep late, making sure they are a little bit more tired than usual so they sleep soundly later tonight. Once the kids are out like lights, you take the baby monitor with you and change into one of Din’s loose shirts.

You find him still seated on the dining table, tapping things into his datapad. You smirk to yourself, walking towards him and leaning over the dining table to take your own datapad that you could easily reach if you make an extra trip to the end of the table. Din can't stop staring, making no move to help you, instead he stands up from the chair and moves to cup the swell of your ass, just like how he imagined before.

“Careful, rid’ika, you don't know what kinda game you're playing here.”

You whine when his hand moves underneath the shirt, trailing up your thigh, sending shivers up your spine. He whispers praises to your ear, biting down your jaw and your neck.

“Fuck, look at you, mesh'la, you're expecting this, huh?” He lifts the shirt up, revealing nothing underneath other than your glistening cunt. “I haven't even done anything, rid'ika, and this pretty pussy's already all wet for me.”

You moan softly when his fingers find your clit, rubbing on it as you shudder in his arms. Din sinks two fingers into your wet heat and he groans when he feels how wet you are. He thumbs on your clit as he keeps pumping in and out of your cunt, spreading your arousal all over his fingers and your inner thighs until you shake beneath him, then he pulls off of you.

“No, cyare please, I'm so close- Ah!” You cry as his fingers leave you, only to moan loudly when he kneels behind you and he slaps your soaked pussy.

“Needy girl,” he teases, slapping your clit again, ignoring your cries. He parts your folds with his tongue until his smart mouth finds your clit and he starts sucking on the sensitive nub. You grip the edge of the table tightly as you grind against his face, smearing your arousal all over his lower face. Din tuts, holding your hips in place, chuckling when he sees your hole clenches around nothing.

“You know what you get for being such a good girl, cyar’ika?” Din asks, his fingers are back on your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerve in a tight circle as you buck violently against his fingers. “Good girl gets to come on my face.”

His lips are back on you, kissing, lapping, and sucking until you're a whimpering mess. You let out a high pitched whine and you come on his mouth, flooding him with your arousal as he keeps on sucking on your lips as you ride your orgasm.

Din grabs your chin towards him and he kisses you hard, his lips are glistening with the mixture of your cum and his spit and you can taste yourself on the tip of his tongue. Din pulls off of you and he turns you around, lifting you up to the edge of the table. He lays you down and he parts your legs with a steady hand on your inner thigh, keeping them apart so he can admire his hard work, your drenched cunt glistening with your sweet come. Din groans then he spits on your cunt, adding to the mess before smearing everything around with the thick head of his cock. He's painfully hard, his foreskin is pulled all the way back, revealing the flared tip, steadily leaking precum all over you. He lines himself up with your entrance and fucks all the way into you in one push. You watch as his thick cock stretches your hole, feeling yourself clinging to his girth, fluttering around him as you struggle to take his size. Both of you moan when he finally buries himself deep inside you, still holding tight to each other.

“Maker, been thinking about this sweet pussy all day.”

Oh, I know. You thought. “Yeah? Did you think about fucking me, ner riduur? Thought about how my pussy clenches around your cock? Did you think about filling me up with your cum until I'm swollen with your adi'ka?” You taunt him, circling your legs on his hips to keep him buried deep inside of you.

“Fuck!” Din swears, hissing while he steadily leaks precum all over your wet heat, leaning his head to yours and rutting deep against your sweet spot. “You're playing with fire, rid'ika. Can't just say things like that.”

“But I want you to,” you beg, moaning wantonly when he starts pumping in and out of you. “Want you to keep fucking me until I'm so full and swollen with your baby.”

Din growls, pounding deep into you with punishing pace. He's watching you, watching your cunt swallowing his cock, watching your face grow slack with pleasure. You slip your hands under the shirt, covering your breast and squeezing them, making your milk leak until there's a wet patch over the shirt.

“Filthy girl,” Din grunts, pawing on the piece of clothing. “Lift it up baby, let me see.”

You lift the shirt up, revealing your breasts for him, shiny from both milk and sweat. Beads of your milk trickling from your nipples, leaking steadily as he fucks into you. He slips one engorged nipple to his mouth, sucking until he can taste you on his tongue while his fingers play with the abandoned one, rubbing and squeezing, spraying him with milk.

“Everything about you is just so sweet, rid'ika, my perfect girl.” He praises. He licks your nipple clean before switching to the other side, pressing open mouthed kisses before bringing the sensitive buds to his mouth and sucking on it, drinking you until he's full while his hand loves on the other one. His cock never stops pounding into you, bringing you closer and closer with each snaps of his hips.

He folds your legs into a mating press, tucking your knees against your chest and his cock is so deep inside you. So deep he reaches your cervix, kissing your womb with his tip. You clench hard around his length, your wall seizes violently around him, milking him irresistibly as he keeps hitting the spot that makes you see stars, begging him to please, never stop. You're wailing as your whole body shakes, tipping your head back and moaning Din's name so loud he has to cover your mouth with his palm, worried the filthy noises of the snap of his balls slapping your ass, your loud moans, and the squelching sound of your wet pussy might wake the sleeping kids up.

With a shaky shudder, you come down from your high, whining as Din keeps fucking you, chasing his own orgasm. After a few brutal thrust, your riduur groans loudly, shouting punched out moans as he peaks. His cock twitches in your soaked, messy cunt, filling you with his hot cum, flooding your insides and claiming you his. He kisses your lips, muffling both your moans, only parting to plant another kiss to your temple while he pumps you full of his cum, murmuring sweet, loving praises and filthy promises to you.

“That's a good girl, rid'ika. Take it, baby, gonna get you all round and pregnant. That's what you want, right? Want to give me another? Want to be bred all over again?”

Din keeps rutting with you until you both shake from overstimulation and he gently pulls out of you. He admires your blissed, fucked out face, trailing soft kisses down your jaw and your neck, sucking his marks all over your body. You tip his jaw up and catch his lips in another kiss, laced with a content smile, before breaking away to whisper sweet I love yous to each other.

Din gathers you in his arms, carrying you to the bedroom and lowering you gently into your shared bed. He leaves for the fresher, fetching a damp rag to clean you up before slipping into his side of bed beside you. He pulls you close, kissing your lips lovingly and rearranges the covers, tucking you into his arms.

“You're my dream girl, you know that right?”

“I tried,” you smile contently, caressing the scruff of his jaw softly.

“You don't have to,” Din mutters, humming when you snuggle closer to him, pressing your heartbeat over his. “You're perfect just the way you are.”

You exchange more kisses, lazily making out in bed until sleep takes over, safely nestled in each other's arms.

About a few weeks later, you start to feel the tiniest flutter in the force.

[r0-boat]

Yessssss I lOvE your headcanons about the 2 unreleased kings 😋 must be because I love dark headcanons.... (and that in Abbadon is something couldn't miss out 😈)

But can you do some moreeee? 🥺 Like about the headcanons about interactions between kings perhaps (seven kings---!!!!) Or maybe between kings and MC pls 😚 I kinda crave for some dark contents right now (cus when I first play WHB, I already expect this 👀)

Only if you're fine with this request, and jusst ignore it if you don't okie 😘

Oh my God interactions with the Kings hshshs

I mostly just have really stupid headcanons about those guys interacting but I got some dark ones

Dark!whb King headcanons

speculation for asmodeus and belphegor(I'm writing these two before they come out)

Cw: yandere, murder, drugging/drugs, death, cannibalism, sexual slavery mentions of being sold off, most of this shit is just talking about a black market shcsdgj. This shit is dark dead dove do not eat

Disclaimer: I do not condone anything I write This is purely for fantasy written by adults for adults only!

Belphegor and asmodeus has been fully released here's the update

Links to little asks about people's questions

Question one about Satan's desires

Question two on Mammon

Satan

I don't think we talk about Satan's depression as much as we should have. What I feel like you would think himself as a wrathful monster unable to control his wrath, sometimes he would have depressive episodes where his personality is a completely 180. He's just as angry at himself as he is at everyone else.

The first time you've witnessed this depressive episode is when he accidentally struck you and made you bleed. His whole body starts shaking as he began to break down He tore apart his room and started crying and took weeks for him to calm down.

The reason why his subordinates are okay with him taking out his anger and physically hurting them is because if he doesn't have an outlet he'll take out it on himself.

Satan is dependent on you for his emotional needs. He loves you, and he needs you; please do not leave him.

Satan is definitely holding back a lot of his dark thoughts because he doesn't want to hurt you, and he doesn't know how much longer he can hold back these darker desires. Normally he tells you everything, but he doesn't want to scare you. He wants you to like him.

Leviathan

Leviathan is a budding yandere, He already stalks you. Trying to keep his obsessive thoughts underneath a layer of hatred. That hatred mixing into more obsession. Of course he wants you to love him, but he also wants to be hated by you just as much as he is loved because it gets him on your mind. And that's really all he wants. It doesn't matter if he makes you hate him. As long as you're thinking about him he is okay with that.

Because of his abuse as a child from angels I would not doubt he wouldn't know how to normally show affection.

He has killed another devil for you. And he will gladly do it again. He sends the heads of lower rank devils that you dare show a smile too under the name "You're admirer" isn't he so romantic.

Leviathan only tolerates the kings being around you because chilling one of them or they're subordinates would start a war. So to have you he must use sneakier tactics.

Beelzebub

He has a fantasy where he roofies you at a bar and takes you home with him. Whenever you go to the bathroom thinking that Your drink is safe with him, He stares blankly into the glass, thoughts swirling with mental images of your nice loopy giggly self being laid on his bed.

Angels taste like chicken, humans taste like beef, demons taste like pork. Humans so far is his favorite. Humanoid meat especially humans are delicacy and highly illegal in the Tartaros black market. A delicacy He has been recently craving.

If he ever dies he wants his last meal to be you after he fucks you of course.

Levi gives the bodies of the devils he has killed too Beel to eat.

Beel definitely does drugs He's mostly immune now... He hates that Adderall doesn't affect him the same as the others.

Mammon

Tartaros is home to the rich and the very powerful. They hold grandiose special parties where the wealthy gather. Of course Mammon attends these parties. These demons see you as a pretty little exotic pet unknowing that Mammon is the pet and you are the master. And these same demons frequently talk about how they would buy you at any price, talking about your body as if you are a piece of meat and a prize to be bought and sold. Sadly you are not for sale.

As the demon of greed flaunting is his specialty And he has definitely thought about telling you up and all his gold and jewels to bring you to one of these parties to show you off. As a message saying 'This is something you cannot have.

Mammon knows of the Tartaros Black market and he turns a blind eye, but he will gladly do something if you tell him to. Or if belphie gets off his ass and strong arms him.

Giving him a little more because getting asked for it: Mammon doesn't do shit about the black market because He owns part of it and he practically created it. This man runs his kingdom like a mafia and he is a mob boss. Shady dealings to other kingdoms smuggling goods anything for More money and greater goods.

Lucifer

Has purchased a human corpse from the same black market for scientific purposes he swears up and down.

He slowly corrupting himself He beats himself up over it but at the same time he kind of likes it.

"hey can I cut you open and look at your organs? No? Oh okay..."

Lucifer because of his past as an angel suddenly gets urges to kill you. They have gone down over time since his transformation as a devil but he really shouldn't be getting this hard over thoughts of putting his hands around your neck.

Makes aphrodisiacs as a paid commission for asmodeus. And asks you to test the drugs.

If you ever die he wants to keep your beautiful eyes.

Your blood is a beautiful drug like sweet wine. He's obsessed with the taste

Belphegor

Belphegor and his superpower of a kingdom are the only reason why the Kings actually give a damn about their laws. Nifleheim is a strong powerhouse and a great enemy to those who don't want to make one of them.

However, Belphegor isn't all justice and the law and order in fact far from that. He is the law whatever he wants he can bypass it and everyone will turn a blind eye. If you were ever sold by Mammon to the highest bidder Belphegor would be your buyer.

Grand spectacles of public executions are very popular thing in Nifleheim(Belphie Danganronpa fan)

The real horror is that belphie invest in cryptocurrency and has an NFT/j

Belphie is also completely dependent on you and he will make you stay any way necessary.

Belphie only hasn't cracked down on the others harder as he should is because he doesn't give a fuck what happens in other kingdoms if it is in his own.

Belphie thinks Asmodeus is a disgusting freak. Leviathan is an amateur to him. Satan and belphie would get along pretty well I think they would be FPS partners.

Asmodeus

All of hell's most heinous devils come here because the laws are so lax. You're wondering why this kingdom hasn't fall to complete anarchy... Apparently getting you addicted on sex and then withholding it as a punishment is surprisingly very effective.

Asmodeus would love to have you but hasn't invite you yet because... Well if your kingdom is filled with half trained rabid dogs and you throw a nice fine steak inside.... Yeahhh.

Asmodeus is actually a pretty nice dude, He's very calm, polite and chivalrous. Which makes you wonder how much of that is a mask. Something you'll never know.

Asmodeus has a harem I think that goes without saying. And he talks greatly about adding you to that harem and how you would be his favorite~

It's no secret that I think humans are a very sexualized being in hell. Asmodeus is one of the demons with a huge human kink. Humans in his eyes are still primal animals which is part of their biggest appeal to him.

Asmodeus thinks belphie has a stick up his ass and he needs to loosen the fuck up

[star-suh]

Into the Wild

Choi Beomgyu x Male Reader

cw: fantasy au, top forest spirit beomgyu, bottom knight reader, some angst, happy ending?, fluffy smut, riding, bareback, nipple play, breeding.

an: there’s mention of blood and guts but just at the beginning.

—

the war of 1000 years was an ongoing conflict between two powerful nations. blood, guts, rusty swords and shields were scattered across the landscape, you could see the destruction caused by it everywhere you looked.

yn was forced to join the army of the white knights, whose purpose was to kill the last ones standing in the battle grounds but little did they know that it was all an ambush made by their rivals. screams and liters of blood filled the ground while a badly injured yn managed to escape. he went deep inside the forest not caring if he gets lost, anything would be better than die by the hands of another evil human. with the remaining strength he has he manages to get closer to a river of fresh water, wanting to drink some of it he crawls, leaving a trail of fresh blood behind him. his fingers mere centimeters away from the running water stopped its movements, yn fainted there. his low breathing indicated he didn’t have much time left, at least he could die in a quiet, peaceful and beautiful landscape…

“AHHHHH” yn woke up screaming and then letting himself fall in what feels like a fluffy cloud, “where am i?” he asks to himself, looking around to what it seems it’s a cozy cabin, with dim lit candles that smell amazing “what’s this place?” he stood up from the bed feeling a stinging pain on the side of his torso, seeing a piece of cloth wrapped around it. “you’re awake” a voice said, coming from another room. yn slowly walks towards there where he finds out a beautiful man with shoulder-length long hair with some highlights to it, wearing a white shirt with his face adorned with a cute blush. he looked so ethereal that yn just stood there with his mouth open “close it or a bug will enter on it” the mysterious man laughs quietly.

“sit there, i made some food”, yn obeyed waiting for the bowl of hot soup the man just prepared, “enjoy” he blurted out while sitting across the table to eat some soup too. “where am i?” yn asked. “my house” he replied, “deep in the forest, no one has ever come near here… except from you” he lifts the spoon towards his mouth while making direct eye contact with yn “you were so injured so i helped you a little”.

“thank you so much” yn thanked, “i thought i would die out there…” he sighed. “that’s what war leaves behind”, the man added. “b-but i didn’t want to” yn quickly replies “i was forced to” sadness and guilt washing over him. “they forced you huh? i’m familiar with that”.

“what do you mean?” yn asked back but the other didn’t answer, “the name’s beomgyu”.

as some way to return the favor yn stayed some days to help beomgyu with some home chores like going to collect some fruits, cutting the woods with an axe that by the way beomgyu could spend hours just looking how yn’s strong arms hold the axe and how the sweat ran down his body ‘so hot’ he thinks.

days turned into weeks and weeks into a month. their relationship went to a friendship to something more serious, the tension was there but none of them wanted to break it until one day, after drinking some fruit wine they got drunk and their emotions came out.

it started with beomgyu’s lips ghosting over yn’s who was desperate to feel the contact, he made the first move, kissing beomgyu with burning passion. he tried to get the dominance but beomgyu took it from him easily. beomgyu swallowed yn’s whimpers, caused by the first playing with his nipples, “it feels so good” he moans “i want more” and beomgyu nodded.

slowly they manage to discard their clothes with their lips still attached to each other “i can’t get enough of this” beomgyu says, “me neither” the other responds.

beomgyu guided yn towards the bed in where they fall and laughed. beomgyu went down while leaving a trail of kisses on yn’s body, every touch from beomgyu feels like a pleasurable burning, something that yn craved and he was getting now. beomgyu puts yn’s shaft on his mouth and sucks it, making sure to not leave a part unsucked. “so good beom” yn whimpers hiding his red face with his forearm. “is this making you feel good?” he asks and yn nods “then tell me if this feels good too” he kissed yn’s balls and buried his tongue on yn’s hole, drawing a surprised grunt from him “shit! it feels amazing” his moans growing louder and constant. after some more sucking beomgyu stand in all fours towering over yn’s quivering body “are you ready?” he asks, saliva smeared around his mouth “yeahh” he says “i want you”.

beomgyu’s shaft slowly opened yn’s walls, “so tight” he grunts, the back and forth movement making yn feel like he was in heaven, in a paradise. yn grabbed beomgyu by the neck and pulled him towards him so they could share another kiss. beomgyu lay down and let yn ride him, his ass wrapping his dick so perfectly, it was like it was made for just him. beomgyu played with his nipples, throwing his head back due to the immense pleasure, it was overwhelming. “if you keep doing that i might come inside you” beomgyu says worriedly in between groans, “then it means i’m doing it the right way” yn cockily replies with a smug smile.

yn hips were moving on his own at this point, he loved the way beomgyu feels inside him, he wants more, it was a pleasure he could not deny to himself. on the other side beomgyu hasn’t feel this way since so long, a mix of emotions clouding his mind. yn moved his hips to met beomgyu’s sloppy thrusts, “please beom i want it in me” yn started to beg and how can one deny that pleasure to such a cute dickrider?. beomgyu hugged him by the waist accelerating his pace, his balls slapping against yn’s ass “fuck yeah” yn smiles, tongue out and eyes rolled back. his dick spurting cum everywhere on the bed and sheets, “it’s my turn now. be ready” few sloppy thrusts later and yn’s gushy hole was filled with thick cum, lots and lots of it filling him up to the brim. “i feel so full” yn tiredly says hugging beomgyu while playing with his long hair. “i haven’t felt this way for so long… thanks yn” beomgyu kisses his forehead and falls asleep too.

war is over finally so yn decides it’s time to go back to his town and let everyone know that he was okay, “wait for me please beom, i’ll be back, i promise”. “it’s ok, i’ll always be here don’t worry” yn said a last goodbye and left but wondering why beomgyu doesn’t live in a town.

everyone that was still alive cheered for yn coming back alive to the town. he then goes to the cemetery to pay a visit to his dead parents, who died because of the war some years ago, a situation that some knight took advantage of to put yn in the white knights rows.in the cemetery was some kind of memorial for the ones who died in the war, yn curiously looked at it when something caught his attention, he felt surprised and sad and ran away.

“beomgyu, beomgyu” he yells when he arrived to the man’s cabin, “what happened?” he said anguished. “you.. you..” he pants unable to form a word. “...so you found it out..” a sad smile creeping over his face, “i was a knight like you before” he starts his explanation “they forced me to join their rows too.. just like you. bastards” tears forming on his and yn’s eyes. “i fought with all my strength but i realized it was pointless, i will die on the battlegrounds anyway” he wipes the single tear that rolled down his face “just like you i escaped towards the forest but the enemies found me and wel” he pauses “they killed me here”. “beom i’m sorry” yn gets closer to him and hugs him, “then are you a ghost?” he curiously asks. “uhm-uhm, so nature force or deity i don’t really know, brought me back to life to guard this forest”. “so this is why you don’t leave in a town”, “that’s right” he laughs trying to put the sad feelings aside, “i’m sorry for not telling you before”, once again yn hugs beomgyu tightly “guess there will be two of us guarding this forest now” he said kissing beomgyu right after, “but what about you yn, you deserve to be happy out there, with people like you” beomgyu worriedly spoke. “i’m happy here, with you. you are my happiness” his dazzling smile making beom’s heart flutter, the blush on his face becoming even redder “you’re so corny” he tries to disguise his shyness, “i know you love it when i’m like that” both laughed while beom hits jokingly the other’s shoulder.

the couple has lived happily since that day, with yn waiting to meet that nature force with the hopes of being turned into a forest spirit and live forever with his loved one.

[gladiatorcunt]

- A BLACK RAM AND A BLACK EWE | XI.

unable are the loved to die for love is immortality

nay, it is deity. unable they that love - to die

for love reforms vitality into divinity.

cw: kinktober prompt (blood), vampire!aemond, reader has a vagina, reincarnated reader from my first kinktober w/ aemond, body horror & body horror fantasies involving his eye, “bride” mentioned but it’s relating to dracula, not quite modern times as in the immediate present 2024 but at least a millennium after house of the dragon (at least after dracula came out) , reader is intentionally silent, blood loss & hazy vibes you are just going through the motions,

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

“What am I to you, sir?”

A fish to be gutted, you’ll be too empty to be whole without me. “The tide that turns in my favor.”

You wear your own freshly spilled blood like a new dress. A gift for being a wandering traveler and a curious historian, Westeros is a country with so much backstory and you’ve spent all your life only scratching the surface. It’s different from the Kings and Queens of the olden days obviously, though those titles remain in use loosely today. You have recurring dreams where you’re one of them, hanging off a prince's arm, tenderly pecking the corner of his dead jeweled eye, and waving to all the people below you.

Roars of an old gargantuan dragon haunt you, when your car engine won’t start, when your tea kettle freaks out, when the world is silent enough to be left alone with your thoughts. You’ve become obsessed because the only connection you feel is to a world that existed almost a thousand years ago.

Dracula, you’ve wandered into this crumbling red castle as a curious academic only to end up as a bride. Perhaps the locks are clicking into place, history repeated, you passed portraits of a royal who bears a more than striking resemblance to you before the decrepit creature looming in the shadows noticed it too.

“Your clothing is still in your chambers, I have each piece cleaned every moon.”

Aemond, your mind whispers you that name, trails bloody kisses from your weeping neck down to your weeping cunt, inhaling the iron musk simmering under your folds.

“Transcendent. It takes me back in time, my rose. So slack and willing too, of course my darling would not require being compelled to spread their legs for their husband.”

He stands upright, swiftly turning your around so your back is flush against the cold stone of the castle wall.

You take initiative, raising your leg to hang your heel on his shoulder, resting the limb against his torso. Aemond curls a hand around the back of your knee, keeping you splayed open in this position even past the point of pain.

He nudges his hard cock between the lips of your cunny, gliding it through your wetness but never plunging inside. The aphrodisiac from his bite would have you eager enough to not need any preparation, but he fingered you with your blood dripping off his fingers anyway. Partly for the sake of keeping your nectar where it belongs and partly because he wants to paint your statuesque form with your crimson, a painter of a single subject. You’re his muse even now, fueling the melancholic isolation instead of the ravenous war.

You whine weakly, irritated because there’s little room to writhe and roll your hips into him. “Please, sir, husband, I-i’m lightheaded, just fuck me already.”

Aemond chuckles and gently parts your folds with the red tip of his cock, giving your pearl a thousand little kisses. He eats with his eye, the scarlet liquid lubing his length and surrounding it as he warms himself in the chubby cradle of your mound. He’s not normally such a messy eater, but reuniting with your beloved after centuries will drive a man of the night to places he would not go with a sword atop his dragon.

“Shh, my love. The creaking doors in your mind will be right as rain in just a moment, this cunt must be starving, just as I am. We understand each other, this delicious little cunny and I.” He rasps into your ear, encouraging you to slide your hands in his long flowing hair by tilting his head back.

You flutter like a moth into a bonfire and create a path of bloodied handprints up his muscular back and into his silver hair. You’re getting it all dirty now, but Aemond closes his eye and moans hoarsely, as if you have given him a great and uncomparable gift.

He’ll ask you to braid it after, the red intertwining with the near white, your husband now the last weirwood tree in a Godswood.

You project the thought of squirting in his empty eye socket, sitting on his face and positioning your pussy right over the gaping wound. To feel the scarred flesh squelch and twitch, only seeing your cunt in its shadow. Charred black, the bits of wriggling skin remind you of burnt bacon. You both are silent then too, preferring to wade in the waters of comfortable silence because what words are needing for this consummation other than screams?

Aemond is not easy to provoke, in truth, it takes years after years of relentless and snide jabs and barbs for him to go off the deep end into the God’s Eye. However, you have been sunken and ghostly longer than he had been poked at by his brother or the strong bastard dyad. The moment he caught the scent of the ripe fruit in the middle of your thighs was his last brush with sanity.

You wail when he plunges to the depths of you without any warning, only a guttural cross between a hiss and a snarl. Aemond squishes you into the wall of what was once the throne room, where he had dreamed of taking you completely naked and unrestrained until all the new citizens of the kingdom were your children.

You only had the one before the dance, before you were slain like a sheep devoured by an uncaring beast.

“No matter.” He declares aloud. “What better conception tale could we spin for our offspring than this, my rose? With a cunt as tight as yours, strangling me in the same godsdamned fashion, I fear it will be quite short.”

Your blood sticks his skin to yours, the wet smacks of your chests pushing and pulling apart like magnets compete with the squelches his cock makes in your bloody cunt. You thread your fingers through his hair, increasingly strengthening your grip to entice him into a violent kiss.

New blood gushes from your bitten lips and oh if you knew the humiliation Prince Aemond would have felt back then to be lapping at them, hungrier than a mangy dog and grotesquely beautiful. Your head spins, wobbling back and forth on the precipice of a dark cliff. He laughs, genuine in his happiness as he places your head in the crook of his neck.

“Do not fret, I shan't feel a thing, beloved. I crave your teeth in my neck like nothing else.” He coos, an order and not a suggestion.

Your husband's blood runs down his body onto yours when you bluntly bite down after a few clumsy tries, aged wine mixing with the freshly harvested. You feel the burn in your stretched leg as he speeds up his thrusts to fuck you back into the wall, so you teasingly apply kitten licks to the minor bite wound.

You’re making a gruesome mess, bone deep groans and swathed in life’s essence. Aemond’s cock spears you like he’s truly out to kill you, stabbing into your cervix with a passionate rhythm. The gory sight of your combined blood trickling down to the floor from his pendulous balls is driving him to madness. Through the shallow connection he can sense that the earlier blood loss and newly regained high from his devotion have you at your peak.

“There you are, my treasure back where they belong. In my home, on my cock, your magnificent body is bleeding dry for me.”

The hand not holding your leg grasps onto your bouncing breast, his talons scrape your pebbled nipple, pinching the bud as a means of fastening the learned brutality of his affection with a shiny bow.

“This is the wedding in the traditions of my valyrian ancestors that my grandsire never let us have, is that not greatly amusing?” Aemond jokes as you lick into his mouth to harass his fangs.

Your mind is lost in the sanguinary love making that follows, snatched by the claws of a greedy dragon.

A soul born in winter, never to flower in the spring.

[misscammiedawn]

Plurality on the Disc

CW: Fatphobia, euthanasia

One thing you can always say about Pratchett was that he did not believe in prejudice. The man saw the world through a lens of satire and yet in all things he attempted to see the humanity in all things and tried to bleed that compassion into the world he created, especially with the modernization of the central city, Ankh Morpork.

Pratchett's works as early as the 90s were showing positive trans representation in Cheery Littlebottom, a dwarf who opts to present femme within a culture that treats displays of gender other than the "default", without acknowledging the inherent bias that the "default" gender presentation within Dwarf culture is masculine. It seems Pratchett was able to display "Male or Political" as a fallacy long before toxic gamer culture.

Sensing that the audience may have found this too subtle he went on to write Monstrous Regiment in 2003, a story about a group of women who take up arms, disguise their gender and live as men to fight in a war. As many things on the Disc it was written with fantasy and satire in mind and yet was incredibly detailed in historical accuracy. As trans-folx continuously remind: "We have always been here"

Today's topic, though, is on plurality. Typically in Media, Myself and I essays we focus on depictions of DID with an emphasis on psychopathology. Pathology and mental illness do not really factor into the fantasy world of Discworld. One need only look at the "Sideflashes" depicted in Monstrous Regiment, those being moments where a vampire character has traumatic hallucinations of the Vietnam War of our world, to know that Pratchett is more interested in satirizing the genre mediums he is working within rather than depicting accurate portraits of real mental illness.

That said, in one of his final books, Thud! Pratchett did have a character with two distinct personalities who could withhold information from one another say "It's supposed to be an illness, but all I can say is, we've gotten along well."

Pratchett always leads with compassion and in all of his work he does his research. Though he never wrote much about the supposed illness mentioned in Thud!, he has written plural characters and we're going to focus on one right now.

The books in question are Maskerade (1995) and Carpe Jugulum (2003). These books heavily feature the characters Agnes Nitt and Perdita X Dream.

The first of the two stories is a parody of The Phantom of the Opera with a heavy emphasis on the real life stress and drama behind the scenes of any stage performance. A must read for any theatre kid who wishes to see 'the show must go on' taken to ludicrous extremes.

Agnes is a young witch who has talent as a singer. So much so that she is able to sing in harmony with herself. She decides to move to the big city and join the opera house in hopes of turning her talents to become a star.

Agnes is a prim and proper young witch, raised to think and act a certain way. The problem is, of course, she wants to act in ways unbecoming of who she is perceived as. So growing up when she misbehaved and acted outside of these rigid expectations she would compartmentalize all of her behaviors into Perdita X Dream, "the thin woman trying to get out"

She'd caught herself saying 'poot!' and 'dang!' when she wanted to swear, and using pink writing paper. She'd got a reputation for being calm and capable in a crisis. Next thing she knew she'd be making shortbread and apple pies as good as her mother's, and then there'd be no hope for her. So she'd introduced Perdita. She'd heard somewhere that inside every fat woman was a thin woman trying to get out[3] so she'd named her Perdita. She was a good repository for all those thoughts that Agnes couldn't think on account of her wonderful personality. Perdita would use black writing paper if she could get away with it, and would be beautifully pale instead of embarrassingly flushed. Perdita wanted to be an interestingly lost soul in plumcoloured lipstick. Just occasionally, though, Agnes thought Perdita was as dumb as she was.

It is not uncommon for those with dissociative disorders to have these idealized personas that take on lives of their own. Though the Fae beauty known as Dawn is a name and identity that I have forged through decades of actualizing, my humble roots will always be the performance of what we thought a strong and capable woman would look and sound like. The fact we borrowed the blueprints is neither here nor there.

In moving to the city of Ankh, Agnes decides that she is free of those who have told her what to do and able to live as she has always desired. She adopts the name Perdita as her own and signs up to sing.

After moving in to the opera house she becomes entangled in the plot of Phantom of the Opera. The central story of the book is a retelling of PotO but with the Disc's patented absurdity added on and Agnes being used as a perspective character. At a point Christine, the only woman capable of exclaiming a whisper, switches rooms with Agnes because she is keeps hearing voices while she's trying to sleep. That night the voice from behind the mirror calls out into the darkness, thinking it is speaking to Christine, and speaks to Agnes instead.

There is makes it very clear as to why Agnes cannot be the central figure of the book.

Agnes pulled the bedclothes up higher. 'In the middle of the night?!' 'Night is nothing to me. I belong to the night. And I can help you.' It was a pleasant voice. It seemed to be coming from the mirror. 'Help me to do what?!' 'Don't you want to be the best singer in the opera?' 'Oh, Perdita is a lot better than me!!' There was silence for a moment, and then the voice said: 'But while I cannot teach her to look and move like you, I can teach you to sing like her.' Agnes stared into the darkness, shock and humiliation rising from her like steam.

Fatphobia is real and is on The Disc, I am sad to say.

But it is after this incident that Agnes begins to recognize the prejudice that has been levied at her the entire book and the prim and proper Agnes politely thinks calm and pleasant thoughts when she is insulted, it is Perdita who thinks rude words.

This gets worse as the plot goes on and the managers cast Christine as the lead and have Agnes sing the lead from the chorus.

The humiliation and compartmentalized resentment continues on and...

What she was about to do was wrong. Very wrong. And all her life she'd done things that were right. Go on, said Perdita. In fact, she probably wouldn't even do it. But there was no harm in just asking where there was a herbal shop, so she asked. And there was no harm in going in, so she went in. And it certainly wasn't against any kind of law to buy the ingredients she bought. After all, she might get a headache later on, or be unable to sleep. And it would mean nothing at all to take them back to her room and tuck them under the mattress. That's right, said Perdita.

Passive Influence is a term used for when a part/alter pushes for action while another part is fronting in the system.

In this example Perdita is steering Agnes to perform actions that are not congruent with her nature and her beliefs. Agnes is not capable of plotting revenge against someone and enacting a scheme and so even while performing the actions she is rationalizing to herself that she is not actually doing anything untoward because it is not in her nature to do such a thing.

The traits exist but they do not belong to Agnes and at this point she has not yet realized that the Perdita identity that she has formed is capable of asserting her own will.

The formation of a dissociative disorder typically occurs when a child is in a situation of constant trauma and need to adapt contradicting realities in order to function. Most common of which is the contradiction of needing protection, nurture and safety from the caregivers who provide terror and pain. To function within that framework a young mind will compartmentalize experiences in order to maintain a reality where both these truths are compatible.

Agnes, in part due to the prejudice she faces for her weight, has to have a wonderful personality. Her acceptance within society requires her to act the part and be a kind and sweet girl with a wonderful personality. Always be the best version of herself in spite of her looks because without that wonderful personality she will only be regarded as a large woman and will be discarded.

So she puts away all the thoughts that run contrary to that narrative. Anything that doesn't fit in the Nice Girl persona.

Aren't you just tired of putting up with it, though? Don't you want to go apeshit?

If you were someone like Agnes Nitt, wouldn't you long to be someone as dark and mysterious as Perdita X Dream?

As the book goes on Perdita continues thinking things from behind Agnes' eyes and the narrative begins describing their differing perspectives. The schism growing wider and wider throughout the story.

At the start of the book, when Perdita began becoming more prominent, the prose would say "Perdita thought a rude word" then, as in the passive influence section, "Perdita said" is included in the text. Later still Agnes and Perdita converse within the prose.

The candle burned with a greenish-blue edge to the flame. Somewhere, said Perdita, there was the secret room. If there wasn't a huge and glittering secret cavern, what on earth was life for? There had to be a secret room. A room, full of. . . giant candles, and enormous stalagmites. . . But it certainly isn't here, said Agnes.

The further on the story goes the more comfortable both character and author are in sharing the back and forth between Nitt and Dream.

If Maskerade was the introduction to the concept then Carpe Jugulum (2003) is where Agnes Nitt and Perdita X Dream's shared mind and body become central figures in the story and are allowed to explore themselves a little more. In the previous story Perdita is treated as where Agnes puts all of her unseemly actions and desires.

In Carpe Jugulum it is treated very emphatically as a dissociative disorder where two parts of the same mind share control over the same body.

She simply sang in harmony with herself. Unless she concentrated it was happening more and more these days. Perdita had rather a reedy voice, but she insisted on joining in. Those who are inclined to casual cruelty say that inside a fat girl is a thin girl and a lot of chocolate. Agnes’s thin girl was Perdita. She wasn’t sure how she’d acquired the invisible passenger. Her mother had told her that when she was small she’d been in the habit of blaming accidents and mysteries, such as the disappearance of a bowl of cream or the breaking of a prized jug, on “the other little girl.”

The tone is set early on with Pratchett working to codify that which already existed by including Agnes putting the pieces together as an adult based on what others had told her she did as a child, something all too common with those with dissociative disorders.

The pair are living in harmony for the most part, Perdita enjoys getting to sing with Agnes and is fiercely defensive of her host. She does not enjoy it when people are mean to Agnes. It is why she focused much of Maskerade on scowling at Christine. Though Perdita herself seems to enjoy bullying Agnes, as she does delight in cruelly calling her a lump.

The story this time is about a group of Modern Sexy Vampires moving in to the witches' town and deciding to take over. Much of the book's satire is a comparison of the Anne Rice and World of Darkness ethos on vampire lore and comparing it to the more gothic and classic depictions such as Nosferatu and Bram Stoker's Dracula.

As well as the complete and utter violation that is "treating people like things".

The story also introduces Mightily Oats (who Perdita will squee about having a cool ponytail), a parody of the catholic vampire slayer trope. He, himself, has a "rifted personality" like Agnes and Perdita due to his adherence to the contradicting commandments and beliefs held within the religious texts of his faith, Om.

Unfortunately, Perdita's alliance with Agnes is harmed when the vampires move in and Perdita finds herself largely attracted to them. Perdita is the very essence of a scene kid, after all, she'd listen to Evanescence if they existed on The Disc. Throughout the early phase of the vampire plot Perdita finds herself internally shaking Agnes and screaming petulantly at her that she is fumbling the ball so hard when faced with them.

Ask him his name! Perdita yelled. No, that’d be forward of me, Agnes thought. Perdita screamed, You were built forward, you stupid lump—

I am certain many reading this will empathize. I certainly do.

But all too quickly the plot of the vampires is revealed and they begin using their vampire hypnosis to control the town. All while Perdita is screaming rebellion and demanding they be given garlic enemas.

Perdita is unimpacted by the mind control. What's worse is that the vampires can read minds and can tell there's something odd about Agnes but not quite what.

Ur…” She stopped it turning into a giggle. “Not really. Not very well…” Didn’t you listen to what they were saying? They’re vampires! “Shut up,” she said aloud. “I beg your pardon?” said Vlad, looking puzzled. “And they’re…well, they’re not a very good orchestra…” Didn’t you pay any attention to what they were saying at all, you useless lump? “They’re a very bad orchestra,” said Vlad. “Well, the King only bought the instruments last month and basically they’re trying to learn together—” Chop his head off! Give him a garlic enema! “Are you all right? You really know there are no vampires here, don’t you…” He’s controlling you! Perdita screamed. They’re… affecting people! “I’m a bit… faint from all the excitement,” Agnes mumbled. “I think I’ll go home.” Some instinct at bone-marrow level made her add, “I’ll ask Nanny to go with me.” Vlad gave her an odd look, as if she wasn’t reacting in quite the right way. Then he smiled. Agnes noticed that he had very white teeth. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you, Miss Nitt,” he said. “There’s something so… inner about you.” That’s me! That’s me! He can’t work me out! Now let’s both get out of here! yelled Perdita.

Up until now Perdita has been a very internal experience for plurality, itself a rarity within fiction. Perdita never fronts in the entirety of Maskerade. She is a sharp and judgmental voice in the back of Agnes' head and shaped much like her repressed desires.

After escaping the clutches of vampire mind control and escaping from the dangerous circumstance Perdita yanks control of the body and outs herself to fellow witch Nanny Ogg, leading to the first time either Nitt or Dream have had to describe their situation to someone outside the body.

“It’s all right,” said Agnes. “It’s me again, Agnes Nitt, but…She’s here but… I’m sort of holding on. Yes! Yes! All right! All right, just shut up, will y— Look, it’s my body, you’re just a figment of my imagina—Okay! Okay! Perhaps it’s not quite so clear c—Let me just talk to Nanny, will you?” “Which one are you now?” said Nanny Ogg. “I’m still Agnes, of course.” She rolled her eyes up. “All right! I’m Agnes currently being advised by Perdita, who is also me. In a way. And I’m not too fat, thank you so very much!” “How many of you are there in there?” said Nanny. “What do you mean, ‘room for ten’?” shouted Agnes. “Shut up! Listen, Perdita says there were vampires at the party. The Magpyr family, she says. She can’t understand how we acted. They were putting a kind of…’fluence over everyone. Including me, which is why she was able to break thr—Yes, all right, I’m telling it, thank you!” “Why not her, then?” said Nanny. “Because she’s got a mind of her own! […] Nanny rubbed her chin, torn between the vampiric revelation and prurient curiosity about Perdita. “How does Perdita work, then?” she said. Agnes sighed. “Look, you know the part of you that wants to do all the things you don’t dare do, and thinks the thoughts you don’t dare think?” Nanny’s face stayed blank. Agnes floundered. “Like…maybe…rip off all your clothes and run naked in the rain?” she hazarded. “Oh yes. Right,” said Nanny. “Well…I suppose Perdita is that part of me.” “Really? I’ve always been that part of me,” said Nanny. “The important thing is to remember where you left your clothes.”

This is the compassion in Pratchett's writing I'd mentioned. In this story Perdita is revealed to be part of Agnes and though Nanny Ogg is confused and a little ignorant of the whole affair, going as far as to yell "is she treating you alright in there?" into Perdita's ear, she is caring and understanding. In Maskerade Nanny was the one person in Lancre who accepted Agnes changing her name to Perdita, reasoning that "people ought to call themselves what they want."

In approaching the abnormal circumstance with compassion in the fiction it helps those reading get a broader and better understanding of how to be kind and treat those impacted in real life.

Also, as a side note, Agnes yelling at Nanny while "currently advised by Perdita" may not be an overt piece of representation but there is a concept called Blending within plurality. It's not mentioned in textbooks I've read but is often discussed in support communities. At times when two parts are co-conscious in front their traits will become a little blended.

In a way parts of a dissociative system are simply a way of storing traits necessary to function but dividing them to prevent emotional harm and damage or to maintain a form of continuity of self. To give an example we were ejected by our caregivers and internalized it as our own fault for being undesirable so part of us cannot fathom doing anything which would make us disposable and unlikable but our circumstances required becoming cold and focused for survival and so the sweet kind and lovable empathy driven part and the cold and angry survival part are kept in separate boxes. Likewise we have trauma related to eroticism but there is still an attraction to such material within us and so in order to function I handle that aspect of our life and shelter the others from being impacted. At first due to heavy dissociation and denial and these days due to practice in therapy allowing us to let parts "opt out" and retreat inwards when they do not want to be involved in what is happening with the body.

In a way blended parts are closer to what a person would be like if they were singlet, though blurring does not often involve the entire system if there are more than 2 parts.

And though I say 'closer', I do not mean entirely as typically when blended people are in an activated state. In the above case where Perdita and Nanny had triggered Agnes' frustrations about her weight being bullied, she was unable to control the emotion of her reaction.

We refer to such days when we are blended and incapable of controlling our emotional reactions as "thin skinned days". They were more common prior to diagnosis.

As the story continues the pair need to see-saw their consciousness to avoid vampire mind control and we are treated to moments of Agnes being the "invisible passenger" in the situation, going as far to show her ability to focus attention on reading is not as sharp as Agnes'. Something I can assure you is quite true within parts of a dissociative system. Goodness knows Cammie would never have the patience to do the reading and typing necessary for these essays.

The story continues on and though there are moments of casual misunderstanding which are a par for the course in such tales, such as Nanny telling Perdita to "give Agnes her body back, you know it's hers really--" before knocking her out to ensure Agnes has control. They throw out lines like:

“Yes, that’s Agnes,” she said, standing back. “Her face goes sharper when it’s the other one. See? I told you she’d be the one that came back. She’s got more practice.”

And let me say, when someone knows you and loves you enough to recognize a part by the way they wear their face alone, it's something. I am simply incapable of reading a moment like that and not breaking into a smile and thinking of the many times our long distance love has tried to explain how she can just tell without a word when we have switched.

But as always. Pratchett leads with compassion. Where Nanny Ogg says that she thinks people should be called what they want to be called in Maskerade, regarding Agnes' wish to be called Perdita (not Perditax), it is Granny Weatherwax the beating heart and soul of the Discworld who says it best

Ah...one mind, split in half. There were more Agneses in the world than Agnes dreamed of, Granny told herself. All the girl had done was to give the thing a name, and once you give the thing a name you give it life...

Once you give a thing a name, you give it life.

That is compassion. To not fully understand something and how it forms and how it presents, but to respect it all the same. To know it has a form and should be treated as real because by virtue of being named it is real.

That is what so much of Pratchett's work is focused on. The humanity of seeing others as they wish to be and respecting them. It's such a low bar to clear in our world and yet sometimes it really does need to be emphasized.

Typically when Granny says something it's from the perspective of age and wisdom. It may not always be without bias but it is with a weight of knowledge and respect.

The final book in the series contents with Sir Pratchett's knowledge of his own death. He knew for years. He even did a documentary on medical aid in dying. He poured it all into depicting a tale that includes Granny's death.

The works of Terry Pratchett have long been a companion in our life. We've been reading them our entire life. To this day we have refused to read beyond Granny's death scene in Shepherd's Crown. We broke down crying when we saw the "I ATE'NT DEAD" call back. We couldn't pick up the book again after that.

It's too difficult to think that one of the voices that taught us morality is gone from this world. Our tag for Discworld is GNU Terry Pratchett. As long as the name is spoken he is never really gone.

As long as Shepherds Crown still has pages yet unread, the book series isn't really over.

-

For more of my essays on positive DID representation in media, please check out my Media, Myself and I tag.

[vermielian]

Bands of Light - Krbk fantasy fanfic

Summary: CHAPTER 1 Kirishima Eijiro and Bakugo Katsuki. Princes from opposing kingdoms, known for their power, riches and influence. Both kingdoms were once in war and showered in blood. Although, it seems to have come to a halt as the King and Queen of the Bakugo dynasty and rulers of the Solarnelle kingdom: Mountains that hold the warm glow of embers, protecting against the world's cold, offered an arrangement with the Kirishima clan and their Queens, the rulers of the Keatha Empire: a kingdom shrouded in forests where every thorn bush guards a heart, the essence of life’s vitality and love. That arrangement being offered their only child and beloved son’s hand in marriage, to bring both kingdoms peace and prosperity. Although the problem is, our ashy blonde prince wasn’t very fond of the idea of being married to a person he has never met. Especially when this person is from the kingdom he was just fighting with every fibre of his body to destroy and make weep underneath his boot. But maybe this flamboyant redhead might change things.

CW: !All characters are adults! strong language, arranged marriage, angst, violence, descriptions of war, enemies to lovers, slowburn, fantasy au, krbk, character x character, character death, near death experiences, love rival (for Kirishima), MlM, complex family relationships, suggestive scenes (no nsfw or smut), fluff, kidnapping, the Kirishimas are Pinoy🇵🇭!!, ocs

May be added onto A03 if I find time

Chapter 1 - Unruly Rivals

To put it bluntly Bakugo wasn’t at all pleased to be at this ball. Normally, the hot headed prince wouldn’t care less about the parties and gatherings his parents put together. But this was different. And it made him sick.

Bakugo lets out a scoff as his crimson eyes scanned across the marble floor of the ballroom. Scanning like a bird of prey ready to pounce and tear its next meal to shreds with satisfaction and pride. But instead he just felt the sinking feeling in his stomach worsen. Which wasn’t like him at all. The mighty Bakugo Katsuki. The only heir to the throne and only child to Queen Bakugo Mitsuki and King Bakugo Masaru. The crowned prince of Solarnelle, the one who was gifted the power of explosion magics from the gods above, the one who was always followed by a flocks of young suitors eager to get a single glance from him, the one who’s beauty shone throughout his kingdom like the sun itself, was being placed in an arranged marriage. But not just any arranged marriage. He was being married to the eldest son of the Keatha empire and one of many children from the kirishima clan: Prince Kirishima Eijiro. The prince whose family had been rumoured to have close connections to giant fire breathing beasts and who could wipe out a whole battalion of Solarnelle soldiers with his fists and sword alone. The beast of a man with fiery red hair and eyes of bright vermillion stones. He was the one he was going to marry.

But Bakugo never spited his parents for this. At least, he tried to.

Their two kingdoms have been at war for almost 2 years now, and it was putting both sides under economic pressure and strain. Not to mention the bloodshed that came from the war, which led to Bakugo further sheltering himself and forming this hard shell around himself. So Bakugo understood why he had to do this. To marry someone he doesn’t love. He didn’t want the Kingdom, his people, his family to suffer anymore than they alreayd have. Both kingdoms have suffered great losses during the 2 years of war, so he knew it was only right he performed his duty.

Although, Bakugo always thought he would able to find that someone with his own tuition. Without needing to be forced for the kingdom’s sake, and without having his whole world on his shoulders, which was already crumbling as he walked.

But while Bakugo was having his sulk session, an iconic flamboyant redhead made his way through the ballroom doors, his attire looking more exotic and dare he might say barbaric than anything else in the ballroom. This would then cause noble men and servants alike to pause and look in awe at the new sense of style they were now exposed to.

The redhead prince was draped in a fine wine red robe which complimented his hair which was styled with obsidian headgear that made tuffs of his hair stick out like devil horns. But the most striking thing about his outfit was the large fur collared cape he wore that framed his shirtless chest. The said fur that adorned his neck looking like a beast that he had skinned to show off his power. Although the Kirishima son didn’t seem to be bothered by the looks and stares of disgust and discomfort as he kept walking with the rest of his immediate family right beside him, all in their own breath taking native clothing style and each of his stunning mothers by his side as the King and Queen of Solarnelle rushed to greet them.

Hesitantly, the young prince soon made his way down the red carpet draped steps as his soft hand grazed against the cold, gold hand rail which was engraved with beautiful designs. His heavy crimson cape adorned with golden accents and a thick fur collar dragged and dropped against each step as he descended. His obsidian coloured military general’s uniform going perfectly with the combinations of golds and reds. His heavy leathered boots making a hard thudding sound every step he took. This lead to everyone’s eyes to fall on him. A low buz coming from the servants and nobles that were whispering to each other. Bakugo’s strong figure and striking beauty always left them shocked.

As soon as Bakugo reached the ballroom floor and made his way through the crowds of people to the Kirishimas. And boy did his feel his palms warm up. He never felt so angry, so annoyed, so scared to meet someone that was obviously below him in every way.

“Ah! Katsuki my dear!” His mothers sickly sweet voice called out to him which immediately made his eyes snap to her matching set of crimson red eyes, “I’m sure you know by now but, this is my son, Prince Bakugo Katsuki.”she said behind gritted teeth and a painful strained smile as he grip held tightly on to Bakugo’s shoulder.

“Ah yes, I’ve heard about the young prince long before the war even began! You have quite the name for yourself.” Queen Kirishima Taeka commented in her strong but gentle sounding voice, a light chuckle leaving her as she crossed her arms around her chest. He dark hair styled in a black bun, a few braids found here and there decorated with handmade beads and golden head pieces which went perfectly with her ruby eyes which Katsuki noticed all the Kirishima children had.

Katsuki just nodded his head firmly, choosing not to say anything in case he slipped up and said something he would regret, his eyes soon hovering towards Queen’s son. He was surprisingly…tall? Katsuki had to admit, the man looked much smaller from a distance, but now that he has a better look of him, Kirishima Eijiro was a beast. Literally. Although not monstrously tall, he still towered over Katsuki and he didn’t like that one bit as it left a sour taste in his mouth.

“We are so happy to have this change to arrange something you my lights, as you both know very well our kingdoms have not been doing well due to this war.” Kirishima’s other mother and other Queen of Keatha, Kirishima Yua, voiced out, her voice notably softer as she spoke. Her honeycomb eyes standing out from the sea of red as her curly red hair was left down but as equally beautiful and brightly styled as her lover.

“Indeed, I do hope this arrangement goes well for all of our sakes.” Queen Mitsuki smiled, her husband remaining quietly beside he throughout the whole exchange, “Oh! I almost forgot but as this arrangement may take a while I’ve prepared a manor near by for your…” Mitsuki continued before pausing, almost overwhelmed by the amount of girl they had, exactly 7 girls, “Family…heh..oh! And please don’t be afraid to ask questions as well. I do understand that some of our ways of doing things are different to yours.” She then continued before quickly changing the topic to not sound rude in front of the Queens.

“Anyways! How about we all enjoy this ball in celebration to new beginnings!” King Masaru then said, this being the first time he has spoke since he greeted and introduced himself, his hands clasped together as a soft smile grew on his face as all of their eyes moved to him. Poor man. Katsuki huffed in agreement, he didn’t want to be here longer than he had to.

“Oh! And one more thing I forgot to mention! I’m sorry dear,” Mitsuki then added before turning to her husband hand held his hand softly, genuinely meaning what she was saying towards him, “But if it’s alright with you, my Queens, but Prince Eijiro will be staying here with us, as I feel like this would help them get to know each other, no?”.

What?

“That’s a great idea actually!” Queen Yua voiced out in genuine agreement and happiness, a bright smile appearing on her porcelain face as she looked up to her wife who expressed the same agreement. “I don’t think that will be a problem, right Eijiro?” Taeka said before looking towards her only son, who still hasn’t uttered a word since he got here.

“No mother, I’ll make you proud.” He said, his voice almost holding that same flare and sparky breath as Taeka but still as smooth as honey. Although Katsuki, as much as he wanted to stay neutral about the whole situation, was almost bubbling with anger.

He wasn’t informed that the former enemy was staying, with HIM and HIS FAMILY. It was honestly taking everything in his power to not pounce as the tall redheaded man and choke him out on the cold ballroom floor.

The rest of the conversation continued on I’m a blur and swiftly came to an end while Katsuki processed everything, his eyes slightly wide in shock as he tried to hide his emotions.

“Indeed!…..hahaha!……….how about……….Katsuki?”

“…”

“Katsuki…?”

“…”

“My prince?”

“…”

“Prince Katsuki?” Said prince suddenly came out of his trance as he looked around at the people around him, his eyes coming in contact with his mothers first, her face carrying concern, leaking with annoyance concealed with a worried smile and a innocent head tilt. Although her eyes were carrying an ever growing flame and sharp anger, while his father on the other hand looked nothing but concerned for his son, his hands slightly reached out towards him as his eyes slowly spoke a thousand words. The Kirishimas on the other hand seemingly confused and somewhat put off by the blonde prince’s attitude.

“Are you okay, My prince?” Eijiro’s voice asked lowly in concern, making Katsuki at the horned man. His face making eye to ‘eye’ contact with Eijiro’s strong, scared, and slightly painted chest. This made his face bloom into all sorts of reds as he flinched backwards, looking up as well as he tried to process a response.

“I’m fine…you don’t have to worry about me.” He grumbled out as he made distance between them, the same sour taste returning to his mouth as he shot a glare towards the barbaric prince.

“Hah…that’s good then ,my dear, but as I was saying Katsuki,” his mother then said, her voice sounding more aggressive than before, “How about you take some time here to get know Prince Eijiro? You might find something in common.” She hummed with a sickly sweet smile.

Well, there was nothing Katsuki could do but say yes. So with that the blonde prince nodded his head with a short and sweet bow to the monarchs as he side eyed his soon to be husband.

“Good! Just come find us if you need anything!” She reminded as Katsuki nodded, trying to keep himself from rolling his eyes and grunting from annoyance. But once Queens and King waved the two princes off and Bakugo turned around, a harsh scowl spread across his beautiful features as his hands clenched in anger. Small explosions coming from his closed palms.

Katsuki only took a couple steps away from their parents before stopping completely near a large window draped in red silk curtains, bunched together, neatly, at the ends with a golden rope. The fiery redhead following closely as he stood awkwardly next to him.

Kirishima let out a sigh through his nose as a bright but dopey smile grew on his face. His cherry coloured eyes looking outside the window as he tried to think of something to say. Both men sitting in an uncomfortable silence.

“Look…I know that this isn’t the best of situations to be in…” Kirishima addressed with a soft smile as he looked over to Bakugo who still had a strong scowl on his face, his eyes looking anywhere but Kirishima’s. But either way the man continued, “But we have to do this for our Kingdo-“

“Don’t you think I know that?” Bakugo spat out, a raspy anger in his voice as his striking eyes finally looked up to Kirishima’s. “This is nothing more than an obligation so stop acting all sappy and sweet with me. I know what you can do.”

Kirishima was taken aback, the prince was so composed around his parents. But then again, he and his mother’s noticed the lighting grip she hand on Bakugo’s shoulder, almost how a wolf trainer back in Keatha would hold the leash of the pups. And to be honest, he didn’t know what to say.

“Look…I’ll try not to be rude to you in any way, because as you said, our kingdoms need this marriage. But don’t expect me to be outwardly affectionate are talkative with you or anything like that crap.” Bakugo then added as he sucked his teeth, his clenched fists letting off small explosions yet again, his spiky blonde hair sweeping over his eyes as he turned away from the muscular man, who was currently speechless.

“Sure thing…” Kirishima said, his voice cracking slightly as he felt his face heat up. Normally he wouldn’t tolerate any behaviour like this but something about him, about Bakugo Katsuki, felt right.

“Uh…do you want a drink..?” The shirtless prince then asked, causing Bakugo to slowly turn his head in annoyance and shock. His jaw clenched as he bit on his tongue, trying to find the words.

“What of don’t act sappy with me do you not get, shitty hair?” Bakugo asked, glaring daggers at the poor prince who only wanted to get him a drink.

Kirishima only let out a short laugh at the comment about his hair, causing Bakugo’s gaze to soften, “heh, sorry, but the question still stands, my prince.” Kirishima said as a sharp toothy smile grew on his face. This feature of Kirishima caught the shorter prince’s attention, never in his life seeing someone with such a unique smile. If anyone in Solarnelle had a teeth like those they’d surely be shunned and chased out of the kingdom, being seen as a demon or sorts. This led to Bakugo further inspecting the prince’s appearance, going from the most noticeable attributes to the least noticeable ones like how the man’s skin was beautifully tanned and sun kissed and the natural rosey colour in the man’s cheeks, or the sharp but elegant eyelashes he had that further enhanced his red eyes or the small scar that rested on Kirishima’s right eye.

“Fine..”

“Haha! Cool!” Kirishima then said, his smile not leaving his face as he went to get their drinks, his noble cloak dragging across the floor, clearly carrying some weight with it.

To say the least, Bakugo was shocked. The prince of the Keatha Empire was nothing like he expected. This is going to be hard.

———

M.LIST | ← Previous Chapter ══ Next Chapter →

[thedoctorsthings]

Power to the king | Min Yoongi pt. 2

Fantasy/historical AU, viking Au (attempted lmao), Yoongi x female reader

More angst (you know me by now), Yoongi is still an asshole, things taking a dramatic turn

cw: sexism, mentions of war, Jungkook's humour (I've decided I'm blaming my painful unfunnyness on the character now)

word count: about 3k

Yoongi and you had been married for a month now and you’d kept your promise. You were ice cold, you only talked when spoken to and you hadn’t as much as smiled in Yoongi’s general direction. The servants and everyone else in the castle treated you with respect and subservience. One might even say they seemed scared of you. Only you knew this all to be a farse. At night, when you were alone you cried yourself to sleep. It had been a month and you’d made little progress. Every day felt as empty as the last. Days before the wedding your mother had told you that an arranged marriage without love wasn’t as bad as people made it out to be. She said you would find things to love, running the household or eventually your children. But as a princess there was no household to run and how were you supposed to have children if your husband wouldn’t even look at you. You admit that you did want children. If you couldn’t have your husband close to you at least you would have them. They would be something that you could devote yourself to in this empty life. Since your wedding night you and Yoongi hadn’t spoken about the subject again. You assumed he would come knocking on your door every night, asking over and over. This was the way most of the men you’d met and heard of acted when it came to sex, but he left you alone. It seemed that maybe it was up to you to come to his door, but over your dead body were you going to give in to him first.

You got out of bed and got dressed. It was customary for maids to help women of your status with this, but you had quickly made an end to this habit by sending the maids out every morning. Now they didn’t even bother coming in anymore. The typical attire of a princess consisted of a white underdress and a heavy garment over it. Today you chose a blue dress. You leave your room and head to the dining room for breakfast. Yoongi is already sitting at the table. You were infinitely thankful for the rest of his family and the ever-present servants. If they weren’t here every moment you spent in the same room as Yoongi would be spent in agonising silence. You always sat next to your husband, as was customary. His brother sat next to you on your other side. Jungkook was a small dash of light in the dark tunnel that your life had become. He was nice, funny and actually tried to engage in conversation with you. He was the reason your days here weren’t spent in complete loneliness. You had no romantic feelings for him, but still found yourself wishing you’d have been married off to him instead. Marriage with him might have been easier, might have worked better than with Yoongi. “Good morning, your majesty. How did you sleep?”, Jungkook asks in that overly polite tone he often liked to use with you. “Nothing to complain about, my lord”, you replied, equally nasal. “Not really suitable for a prince to be playing games with his future queen, is it?”, sounded a grumpy voice from your right. You had already noticed that Yoongi didn’t appreciate it when you had too much fun with Jungkook. It made you want to do it all the more. At this comment you settle your gaze on the empty chair in front of you, the one where the queen is supposed to sit, and rigidly stare at it. “We are expected to attend next week’s festivities together”, Yoongi poses and somehow his voice sounds softer. He’s bent slightly towards you, but you stay unmoving. “okay”. Yoongi finishes the rest of his meal in silence as you occasionally say something to Jungkook. As Yoongi gets up, he says: “your chambermaid will tell you when it is time to prepare. She’ll give you the clothes you’re expected to wear as well”. You merely nod. 

Yoongi walks through the huge, stone hallways while lost in thought. He got what he wanted, a wife that never let her emotions get the best of her, one that was rational and let him do as he wanted. You were perfect, there was nothing you did wrong, and somehow, he still despised you. Whenever he tried to make contact with you, you rejected him. There was nothing but one-word answers from your side. He felt that you hated him and that made him dislike you. He knew he would never be as charming as Jungkook, but you could at least try to form some sort of friendship with him. The most important reason however, was that he hated the way he felt when he looked at your emotionless face. You looked like all life had been sucked out of you, while at the same time there was a deep silence lying in the still waters of your eyes. It made him feel horrible, it was his fault, he’d never admit it. He knocked on the door of his mother’s bedchambers. “Come in”, he heard her weak voice call. He pushed open the heavy, wooden door and stepped into the room. She was sitting half upright on the bed, leaning against a mountain of pillows. The sunlight coming from the high windows hit her face nicely. He sat down in the chair next to her. “How is married life, son?” “To be honest, I barely talk to her”. The queen looked at him with a questioning look. “I just don’t really like talking to her”. “Why?” Yoongi sighed and stayed quiet for a while. He made a vague gesture with his arm and shrugged: “It’s like she’s not really there. When she always responds as short as possible and only speaks when spoken to. I think I don’t like talking to her because I know she doesn’t like me either”. His mother looks out the window a second, before speaking: “You think she’s cold?” “Yes exactly”. “Yoongi, you’re my son and I love you, but you’re not the warmest person either. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t like talking to you either”. “But I try so hard to seek contact with her”. “I think a husband and wife should have more than just contact”, the queen said, smiling. Yoongi was quiet again. “Could it be that you feel guilty?” At this Yoongi got up: “No that’s not it!”, he said raising his voice. “No need to get angry”, she said calmly. “I’m not, I just have things to do”, was the last thing he said before leaving the room.

You’re walking through the gardens of the castle. It was spring now and getting warmer. In this kingdom, warmer still meant well below what others find agreeable, but your people were used to it. People had started dressing lighter and the sun shone more often. You also felt lighter. After months of basically ignoring your husband, you had decided to be more welcoming. Your sister had been right. As a woman all you could do was make the best of it. About a week ago you had started being nicer to Yoongi. You smiled at him during meals and asked him how his day was going. Yesterday you spent the evening together playing a traditional board game. You suggested it. It was nice, you’d laughed together for the first time ever, even if it was still awkward. Things started looking up, maybe you could find happiness here after all. You let your hand brush over the newly growing flowers and enter the halls. Tonight was the night of the festivities and you planned to go to your husband and ask him what was expected of you tonight. You could ask any of your maids, but this was the perfect opportunity to spend more time with Yoongi. As you near the corner you hear giggling. Your ears perk, even with Jungkook’s presence everything happening at the castle was a grim affair. Giggling was not something often heard around these parts. “Your majesty, behave”, you hear a female voice tease. Dread fills your stomach. You round the corner and there he is, his hand on her lower back, his nose in her hair as she opens a door. He looks up for a split second. You don’t know if he saw you, you’re still quite far away from them. Even if he did see you, it clearly doesn’t matter to him, because he and the maid enter the room. You hear shushing and more giggling and then the door shuts. You welcome her back with open arms. That all familiar emptiness, or at least that’s what you wish this feeling is. It’s not, it’s pain. It hurts you more to admit it. It’s horrible to realise that you let this man get to you. You promised yourself you would never feel again when it came to him and here you were, seeing blurry from the tears trying to find your way back to your rooms.

Tonight’s festival marked the beginning of spring. Everyone in the city gathered on the main square every year to sing, dance and eat together. It was your favourite thing as a child. Today was the first year you couldn’t enjoy it. You were expected to walk through the crowd at the height of the festival. The king and queen first, although the queen wouldn’t attend due to her illness, then the crown prince and his wife and lastly the second born son. You’re waiting in the carriage. You and Yoongi are seated next to each other, Jungkook sitting opposite of you. The air is tense. You still have no idea if Yoongi noticed you earlier today. You have a feeling that he might have because he’s tenser than usual. So are you. “Alright someone say something before the awkwardness drives me to jump out of the vehicle”, Jungkook says while uncomfortably squirming on his bench. You and Yoongi both remain silent. “By Odin, I bet the mute choachman is better company than you people”. At this you let out a giggle, that in its turn makes Yoongi scoff. Wanting to relieve Jungkook of his suffering you offer: “What do you think the head druid will predict tonight? I hope not another failed harvest like last year”. “Me personally, I’ve been hoping for golden rain ever since I was a kid”, Jungkook jokes with that signature, boyish grin of his. “The druid’s prophecy is no laughing matter Jungkook, Y/N is right. We better hope for a fruitful harvest this year”. “Alright Mr. Cranky, maybe you should jump out of the carriage”, is the last thing Jungkook mumbles before getting kicked in the shin by his older brother. This time you laugh out loud and even if it was just unconsciously, Yoongi is proud that he was finally part of the reason why.

Your carriage arrives after the king’s and when you get out the mass of people outside cheer so loud you almost cover your ears. Almost, because you’re sure that if you did Yoongi would have something to say about it later. You and Yoongi link arms, which is probably the most intimate you’ve been since the wedding. You walk through the path of people to the thrones that have been set up at the head of the square. There are six thrones. The king and Yoongi sit on the two most extravagant ones in the middle. You sit next to Yoongi and Jungkook next to you. Two men are already sitting on the thrones next to the king. These are the head druid and his apprentice. At the end of the evening, they will perform a ritual to predict the fate of the kingdom. During the meal you and Yoongi barely exchange a word. After however, when you’re watching the city’s people dance, Yoongi chuckles at seeing a young man almost trip and light his hair on fire with one of the torches. The man manages to do a sort of twirl and prevent this horrible fate from happening. “That’s Jimin”, Yoongi states: “He’s a bit of an idiot but a good man. He’s the son of the farmer that delivers food to the castle. You might have seen him help his father with the deliveries, the old man is getting sicker and sicker”. You haven’t digested the events of this morning yet and honestly the fact that he’s acting as if nothing happened is pissing you off. “So, you’re just going to act like I didn’t see you grope a maid this morning?”, you ask without looking at him. “Y/N”, Yoongi starts, but he’s interrupted by the booming voice of the king. You hate that man for the way he talks to you and for the way he speaks of his wife as if she’s a burden, but you have to admit you’ll always have respect for the way he can make a crowd of hundreds of people shut their mouths. “People of Sargon, turn your eyes to the fire. The Druid will perform the prophecy!”. His voice could reach the deafest of men. The druid got up. You had never seen him from this close. He was quite a young man; most druids were older than stone. He had pitch black hair filled with silver jewelry. It ran over his broad shoulders like a black waterfall. When he turned to bow to the king you saw his face. In your nineteen years of life, you had never seen a man so handsome. After that, his apprentice got up and turned to do the same. This man had dark eyes and an almost equally handsome face. “I think these druids have a potion to make themselves look better, it’s not fair”, Jungkook whispers. “You look fine Jungkook don’t worry about it”, you smile back. “Don’t ya think I oughtta get to the bottom of this then ey?”, he asks in that accent you’ve gotten so used to. “Yes Jungkook, as prince of the kingdom I think you should make it your first priority to interrogate two druids on why they look so good”, you retort. “Exactly my thoughts”, he grins, but he can barely finish the sentence because Yoongi reaches over you to softly hit his brother upside the head. The druids walk over to the huge fire. The head druid reaches into his pocket and takes out some dried leaves. His apprentice is holding a wooden bowl with a purple looking oil in it. He dips the leaves in the oil and then throws them on the fire. For a moment, nothing happens. The square trembles with suspension. All of a sudden, the flames turn black. In all the years you’ve attended the festival you’ve never seen a fire this dark. It roars and seems to double in size. The head druid is caught off guard and stumbles to the ground. The flames shoot higher than ever, before turning back to their normal size and colour. Everyone is quiet. The man named Jimin, who was laughing seconds before is now looking at the druid with fear in his eyes. That same fear is visible in the eyes of each person in attendance. You feel the heat on your face fade away as the druid whispers: “war”.

After the druid had uttered the word war a shock wave had rolled over the square. The king had ordered the druid and his apprentice to accompany you back to the palace. Once arrived there, he immediately called all his advisors to gather in the main hall. You and Yoongi had followed them in. “What is she doing here?” the king’s voice sounded throughout the entire hall. “She’s my wife and the future queen of this kingdom. She needs to know what’s going on”, Yoongi defended. “Your mother never sat in on things like this”. “I plan on doing things differently”, Yoongi said sternly. The king grumbled but didn’t complain further. “Seokjin, what is the meaning of this”, the king yelled angrily, as if it was the druid’s fault that the fire had behaved this way. “I don’t know your majesty; all I know is that this means war. I don’t know with whom. I don’t know how long, and I don’t know how high our chances of winning are. The rest of the of the evening was spent with old men arguing with even older men about what to do. Eventually they concluded that we would have to wait. After hours the druids had managed to convince the king and his advisors that it was too early to decide anything, but the king decided to start training his men more fervently.

After this evening regular life continued, albeit with a dark cloud hanging above all your heads. Everyone seemed stressed and anxious at all times. You and Yoongi also went back to normal. Normal meant back to how it was before you decided to be nicer. You never brought up the affair with the maid again, and neither did he. That evening at dinner the king showed, once again, why everyone tried to stay as far away from him as possible. “Why is she not pregnant yet?”, the king asked, although a better term would be, demanded. Of course he didn’t ask you. He asked Yoongi and acted as if you weren’t in the room, like always when he said something about you. “I don’t know father. We haven’t had any luck yet”, Yoongi answers stoically, without looking up from his plate”. “I bet it’s her fault. She’s barren and tricked us into marrying her into this family”. “That is not it!” You raise your voice. You’ve barely ever said a word at this table and the king is made of the same thing your nightmares are made of, but you refuse to let him talk about you like this. The room becomes impossibly tense as the king looks at you. It almost felt as if you could feel his stare sting in your eyes. “Father, you will not talk about my wife like this”. Yoongi says calmly. “Oh, really son? So it’s not her fault? Is it yours then?” Yoongi and the king share 5 full seconds of murderous eye contact before the king delivers the final blow. “I should have known. The Gods refuse to bless you with an heir after what you’ve done”. Yoongi slams his fists on the table and gets up so roughly his chair falls to the ground. He stands still for a moment, glaring at his father with murder in his eyes, before storming out of the room. The sound of the door slamming can be felt in your ears long after he leaves.

Later that evening you are sitting in your chambers. You’re reading a novel when there’s a knock on your door. “Come in”, You say curtly. Yoongi steps into the room. He doesn’t peek his head in first like the servants do. He always enters rooms with the confidence of someone who belongs, something you could only dream of. At least now, when you were a child, you could do the same thing. Somewhere along the way you lost the confidence. It happened to every woman in this godforsaken kingdom. “We should talk about producing an heir”, Yoongi offers carefully. “Oh really, now you want to come to me. For months on end, you leave me alone in the cold of the night but when daddy dearest brings it up you listen”, you bite. “I just think he raises a good point. We’ve been married for months and people will start expecting good news soon”. “What is it really? Are you starting to get lonely, does our stone-cold crown prince need someone to warm his bed?” halfway through that sentence you had gotten up and started getting closer to him. He grabs you by the wrist of the hand you had been pointing in his face with: “You will not speak to your future king in that way!”, he spits through his teeth. You refuse to stand down, so you say: “Maybe my future king should go find another servant to produce a successor with, I bet she speaks to you in whatever way you want, doesn’t she?” Yoongi lets go of your hand. For a moment it looks like he’s about to say something, maybe even apologise. But then he disappears from the room without saying a word. You flop down on your bed. Maybe you were too harsh. You have to admit that you did desire a child to raise. It would give you something to do, someone to love in this cold castle. You would also be lying if you said you didn’t desire Yoongi in that way. When you saw him at that council hall a couple of weeks back. When he had argued with his father about protecting the country, when he had argued to stay calm and not make any rash decisions, he seemed in his element. He was good at this, he was good at strategy, he was a born leader. Seeing him like that had shot a feeling through your body like you’d never felt before.

taglist: @lifeless-firefly @emerald-notes @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs @jjkwifestyle @viankiss

[reviewsthatburn]

THE WITCH KING by Martha Wells is excellent and I had a great time reading it. The worldbuilding is nuanced and well-developed, with factions and history in a way that implies much more going on, but not getting bogged down in little details that don’t matter to this particular story. It deals with colonization and empire from the perspective of a quasi-immortal character (Kai) who has not been around forever, but has been around long enough that things which are part of his culture and history are now details that would fascinate only historians. The narrative shifts between two time periods in his life. This means that some events are mentioned before they were actually shown, but it was generally in a way that made the whole thing easier to follow. The two timelines are connected, as the main characters are trying to figure out whether the plan they were working on when they were betrayed is still salvageable. 

Full Review at Link

[mariusrenathyrs-crashout]

just read ur oc post and ??????? omg????? i'm blown away, these little guys are so rad!!! histerria is Such a cool take on mindflayer tadpoles and abductions n shit!! i love it!! i never considered the possibility that ppl in a fantasy dnd world might dismiss alien abduction stories the same way we do irl, but it makes so much sense!!!! and llewyn's whole thing with their not-god is so fucking awesome, that's so interesting and fucked up!! also would u be willing to elaborate on hastaal's backstory or naw? i'm v curious lol. (like why did he have to eat his brother? what happened there?) obv u don't have to answer this or anything, i just needed to yap lol. sorry to bother u and hope ya have a good night :)

Thanks! Wow lmao, I really appreciate this especially cause like I think Histerria and Llewyn are super fun and I really had a blast with Histerria's whole spin on alien abductions. Also! I hope you have a good night as well anon.

Ya I can spill some Haas lore. He's currently the guy who I rotate in my head so so often due to actively playing him rn. (CW Cannibalism mention)

Haas and his triplet brother's Esok and Jaing were all in this super militaristic society together and raised as soldiers since childhood. Their army is at war with the Shade army who are representing Shar, and the two societies have had about a century long spat between their societies both over religious and territorial disputes.

Over time though their army began losing more and more battles, their strategies seemingly combated by the enemy conveniently having the perfect counter strategy or equipment. During the War of 100 Nights though Haastal and his older brother Esok noticed that one of the enemy groups had a map basically detailing theirs and other platoons positions, this map having one of their own army's seals on it. They basically realize there has been a mole feeding info to the enemy and Esok sends Haas to try and go back to base and tell their General about this. Haas and his squad make it but mind you this battle of 100 Nights has already taken a heavy toll on the army as they're all with minimal rations, they're all mostly starved, freezing during the winter, and all either sick or injured in some sort of way so by the time he makes it back him and his men are all struggling.

Once he gets back and tells the General, the General shockingly takes him and his squad into military custody. Turns out the General was the mole and he's been working with the Shade army for years now. He plans to pin this betrayal though on Haas and his men and have them executed for being traitors, pinning this crime on them and getting off scott free. However, Esok eventually makes it back and hears about what happened and basically starts piecing together that its their General who is corrupt. He tried going to free Haas and his men who by this point are all LITERALLY like starving and delirious and scared out of their minds. With this, a new opportunity presents itself to the General - get rid of a beloved Captain who would for sure try and expose his crimes and also pin further blame on Haas and his men and make the General seem like a hero for finding and executing them. He has one of his mages use Command on Haas and his men who are ordered to attack like animals and they literally cannot help themselves but rip and tear Esok apart and Haas basically comes to his senses having torn his brother's throat out with his bare teeth - he didn't cannibalize him in the sense of even really purposefully doing so, it was more gore was in his mouth and he was forced to swallow but that alone was enough to scar him. His younger brother Jaing finds out about this, tries killing Haas and Haas in his dismay and going off pure adrenaline and grief and all that steals a talisman that the Shadar-Kai use to teleport to the material plane and warps there, destroying it and fleeing for his life.