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chokchokk · 1 year

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𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽, 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 | song mingi x fem!reader

an ao3 requested husband!mingi one-shot

"Are you trying to challenge me?"

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 : You come home stressed, feeling like the world wants only the worst from you. Good thing that your husband wants the best, right? Right...

"Baby, I would never do such a thing."

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 : fluff, smut

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 : 7.3k

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 : established relationship, girlboss office worker!reader, stay at home husband!mingi, praise kink, hand kink, size kink, service top!mingi, use of the pet-name “baby”, starts rougher but then gets really soft and gentle, cunnilingus, fingering, over-stimulation, passionate sex; reader and mingi are in their late 20s/early 30s, reader is a bit bratty but mingi is a brat as well, it pains writer mingi is not a sub in this FUCK, he puts reader in place just a tiny bit, but the dynamics are pretty even, reader and mingi love each other deeply

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 : i wanted to make mingi wear a tanktop but when i digged for it THERE WAS NOTHING???? we never got tanktop!mingi selcas???? how do yall not die of hunger, no, THIRST?

anyhow. this was an ao3 request!!! i had lots of loving fun with it and i hope you do as well babes and bbies xoxo

masterlist link | join my taglist

Did you know married employees are respected more?

Well, that’s what statistics say, but you certainly have never had this observation be proven true. It’s been almost a year since the first time you’ve worn your ring at your work-place, but you still get weird looks for having settled down “too early in the relationship” at such a “young age”, as if they knew anything about your private life— so no, you don’t. You wouldn’t know anything about being respected more as a married employee, even if you’re a few working hours away from being promoted to General Manager.

You throw your keys into their respective tray and hold your nose-bridge, when you enter your house with the sound of your shoes immediately falling to the floor after you shake them off in frustration. Yes, you may have earned your money, but at what cost? To hear old people pick you out because “such a fragile thing can’t possibly handle life”, despite being their lead director, have their hairy fingers pointed towards you since “someone like Y/N needs extra checking” despite you never having missed a dead-line, and to be eyed by them while you’re just trying to get your papers— oh, fucking hell; that is, by definition, not respect, that is horror, and one more reason to finally just quit your job and—

“Baby, you’re home!”

You take deep breath.

“Here I am.”

“Allow me,” your husband hums, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his torso close to your back; he’s rubbing himself against you with the excuse that he’s helping you get that fucking bag from your hands, and you let out an exhale once the weight is removed from your grip and lands on the floor. He is masterfully not referring to the fact that you came a full hour later than the initial time you have texted him you would arrive, and rather focusing on the how your shoulders feel more tense than usual, massaging his strong thumbs into them.

“Thank you,” you sigh and lean the back of your head against his breast, for he’s towering over you like a guardian pressing gentle kisses onto your hair, making him one comfortable, cushioned wall. You feel a bit guilty for not having asked how his day went, but for all you know, he’s having a blast arranging his new studio that he wants to use in the future to produce with other music artists, but most importantly, help you earn money.

Your stay-at-home husband, Song Mingi. The man who makes it— the time, the work, the stress— all worth it.

“How do you feel, baby?”, he murmurs, kissing your temple while he’s at it. He brushed his teeth not too long ago, you can smell the remains of mint toothpaste at his lip. Is he being obvious? Yes, maybe. You're not complaining though. “Rough day?”

“Yeah,” you exhale and let yourself be touched by your husband, though it doesn’t make you as calm as it should in your heart. You’re not craving for any soft vicinity here, you want to smash something to the ground and stomp on it; you’ve spend the whole day surrounded by the loudest, noisy, dim-witted idiots who are certainly preying on your downfall if they don’t fucking—

“Tell me all about it, baby,” Mingi murmurs, his vocal chords vibrating against the back of your head, as he rests his chin on top of it. “I’m listening.”

Sometimes you ask yourself whether you would still be receiving the same comments, if your co-workers knew who Mingi was. Not because he’s some famous man to be afraid of, but because he is taller than all of them, has got a louder voice and could knock those douchebags out with his muscly arms— okay, maybe they should be afraid. Very afraid.

“No, it’s okay,” you breathe and turn around to get your arms around your husband’s waist and press your face into his collarbones that you didn’t realize were revealed. "Button up,” you murmur, almost annoyed that you can inhale Mingi’s comforting scent through the cleavage as well as you can. You wanted to stay angry for just a little bit longer, but your husband makes it nearly impossible. Not to say it doesn’t make feel you any less hot though.

“What do you mean?", Mingi pouts, "Is it not good? I showered! Just for you, baby.”

You chuckle and your lips graze his freshly-washed, freshly-lotioned baby-smooth skin. “No… It’s too good…”

Mingi gets his hands into your hair and rubs his finger tips across your scalp.

“What were you stressed about, baby?”, Mingi continues to ask you, applying a bit of pressure to his touch, his hand feeling like it’s ripping off the upper layer of your head in the best way possible.

“My co-workers hate me,” you murmur, teeth gritted. Your breast begins to slightly enflame at the thought of your co-workers’ faces, but your husband doesn’t seem to mind your tone as much, allowing your mind to roam freely.

“Hate you?”

“They, like, hate my existence.”

“What would they hate you for, baby?”, he asks, working his long fingers down to the lower side of your head, reaching for your neck to scratch it. His hand is well big enough to do all of it at the same time.

Preparing to answer his question, you inhale and exhale deeply, smelling the clothing and leaving it warm.

“They hate that… I’m already settled down at my age.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And that I am as confident about it and— and as hard-working as I am…”

Mingi chuckles and strokes your hair one time to get your hair in its right place after having mushed it. His touch expands warmly on your scalp and it spreads like a soothing wave of comfort.

“They hate that,” you inhale, and then —with revelation— exhale, “I’m such a strong, successful woman.”

“There you go. My strong,” Mingi murmurs, and he’s letting his hands glide down your back, “successful,” further down your ass, “wife.” Squeeze.

“Oh,” you chuckle, fully aware that nothing is on your husband’s mind rather than to persuade you to get into bed with him. Cleaning his teeth, showering, putting on fresh clothes— Did he even shave his beard by himself? Wow.

After almost a year of marriage, some clues become very self-explanatory.

His amazing hands work their amazing ways on your ass, and as it goes for Mingi, he always prides himself that he can make you melt under his touch, especially when you come home from work late on days like these.

“You should just let your anger out on them next time,” Mingi smiles, cupping your ass with the big surface of his hand and you can feel how he’s trying to figure out whether he can raise you up like this— spoiler: he can— and continues to encourage you. “Or on me.”

Were you implying your co-workers should be scared of Mingi? Yes, but also no. For someone your size, despite seemingly being ever-so tiny in your husband’s embrace, to make it so big in such a short time is astounding; ground-breaking, even. You may or may not know, but Mingi finds you are one cold-blooded woman whose blood only boils when she’s being provoked, and if there is one thing your husband wants you to prove to your co-workers, it’s that you won’t think twice once you’ve got the title of being their supervisor.

Too harsh? Maybe. But that’s something you can consider when they’re begging you to accept their apologies, no?

“Don’t edge me on, or I might actually turn into the Hulk or something,” you laugh hoarsely and raise your head up to him. Mingi looks down immediately and grins, continuously groping his hands into your butt.

“You can’t scare me,” he lulls and kisses your forehead, “because you’ll always be my little baby, Y/N.”

“Ohh, shut it,” you sneer and can’t deny that Mingi is the only one who can make you feel this small, “I wouldn’t be too sure I can’t scare you.”

“Do try, please,” Mingi insists with a cheeky smirk and gung-ho, you’re raised from the floor, being carried to the bedroom. Was that a challenge you heard?

“Be rough all you want tonight, alright? I don’t think your stress is gonna get away our traditional way today.”

“Really? ‘Traditional’?”, you huff and raise an eyebrow, Mingi kissing your cheek, as he opens the door to your bedroom.

“It’s almost our anniversary, let’s try something new, baby. I'll do anything you want. Don't care about me. I'll just be... you know. I don't know.”

“What? Is my husband getting bored of being in charge?”, you gasp theatrically, easing your hands into his shoulders, “Does hubby want me to order him around?”

“Let’s get rid of the terminology,” Mingi mutters, a bit sheepish, not wanting to admit that he read the term ‘service top’ somewhere in the deepest corners of the internet earlier this evening and had to ask you when you came home. You coming home an hour later just made him travel further the needy path, imagining how good he could make love to you, when his "own pleasure isn't the focus" (that's a quote from the website.)

“I just want my wonderful wife,” Mingi sighs, as he lets himself fall on the mattress backwards, with you landing on his hard-on, knees propped next to his hips, “And relieve you from all your stress.”

You’re still in your office attire, got your tie on tight around your neck, everything that screams ‘not ready for bed’, but Mingi doesn’t seem to care for your sheets to become dirty. In fact, he apparently wants you to be the dirtiest you’ve ever been, huh?

His long, slender fingers hold you by your jaw, as your husband roughly presses his lips into yours, immediately opening up his mouth to get a second taste with his tongue. While he tastes like mint toothpaste, you taste like bittersweet coffee, diligence and dedication; you are dancing heavenly on Mingi’s tastebuds, and his tongue laps over yours eagerly to not let any drop of your essence go to waste. He’s making you feel wanted, no, he wants you, and as Mingi takes your blazer off, your own desire to have him grows bigger with each passing second.

Your legs feel a bit tight due to the fabrics of your suit, but it doesn’t prevent you from grinding yourself into him, pants interrupting your greedy kiss. “Let’s get this off,” Mingi murmurs into your lips, hooking his finger into your tie, loosening it up, pulling it until he can wriggle your head through.

“Let’s get all of this off,” you reciprocate and his hands are on your waist, as Mingi watches you flawlessly open up the buttons of your blouse, tongue running over his lower lip. “Your co-workers don’t know you,” he chuckles, admiring you sitting on top of him with a look in your eyes that he could feast on for days, “But they should know that you are, fuck, breath-taking.”

You move your hips over his crotch, enjoying hearing your husband gutter out his thoughts.

“You are eye-candy in that, baby,” Mingi heaves, “I’m getting kinda jealous of your co-workers here.”

Cheeky, you let the blouse droop over your shoulders, revealing your lacy bra. Saying that you’re eye-candy doesn’t put it into words, Mingi thinks, and gulps at the sight of you stroking over your own torso and your breast that is just being so perfectly pushed by your lingerie, and— though it barely needs any convincing for him to swathe his tongue around your pretty nipples and get even more prettier sounds out of you— your slight gesture gets your husband’s head fuming with the things he wants to do to you to make you crumble and eat it all up deliciously, not leave anything behind.

“I bet they don’t get to see this though,” he grins and with a quick, studied flick of his fingers, the tightness around your torso is released and your tits are out for Mingi stare into. “Only I get to see this, don’t I?"

You nod and sigh, when he traces the red indents from your underwear with his thumbs and wets his lips; but before you think he's being too gentle, Mingi doesn't let you speak out the words 'yes, only you do' and interrupts you with his mouth, his hands holding you by your waist.

"Mingi," you pant. He has pushed you over on your back to the mattress without warning, caging you in with his frame. "Sorry, baby," he grins, pulls off his tank-top, throws it on the floor, quickly— he's got things to do here!— and then zips open your pants, kissing you from your cheek down to your collarbones, covering your body with his fresh breath. "Works better this way."

Mingi hooks his fingers into your trousers and pulls it off until your panties are revealed to him, but before he's able to wriggle it down to your calves and finally have it off your body, he's having a moment to look at his wife laying in front of him; your glowing eyes are glancing up, waiting, no, teasing, urging him on to do what Mingi has been planning to do since the first time he asked you when you would arrive back home.

"Please don't mention 'work'," you hiss, pushing your tongue against the inner space of your mouth.

He knows. He has never been there at your work-place, and he never asks you more about it than he should, because Mingi does think that his distraction works way better than to rant for hours, and he sees it, feels it— your anger, your frustration, your stress— but does he... well, how should he say this... care for it?

No.

"Why not?", is what Mingi whispers into your skin to make you roll your eyes and border him in with your thighs, the pants that aren't off yet keeping him between your legs. Fuck, you're so hot when you're stressed.

Okay, wait, wait, wait— hear him out.

First, please forgive him. You really have to. Mingi would never say this out loud, not under any circumstance that doesn't include you directly asking for it, but shit, look at yourself right now. Enveloped by your open blouse, your perfect breasts hanging out of it like a window luring him to peek like the shameful man he is, your facial expression judging him for his fawning— you are a goddess in his eyes, Y/N. And gods get angry. And then, when they're angry, they're the most powerful they ever are.

So there you go; Mingi, even though he's a husband that has never, ever throughout your marriage or your relationship, made you angrier for more than 24 hours, kinda enjoys it when you come home stressed, gritting your teeth, panting, groaning— talking to him with umph. The stress makes you riled up, makes you breathe fire, shoot flames out of your eyes that seduce him to be even more ignited, just for you.

"Are you trying to challenge me?", you huff and Mingi makes himself comfortable, placing his elbows around the sides of your body, anchoring himself on your lower abdomen with his forearm.

"Baby," he grins, kissing the inner sides of your thighs, "I would never do such a thing."

Except he is. When you get— and your husband thinks he's a genius to think of this— 'worked up', you become demanding, slightly sassy, playful, and there is nothing Mingi loves more than his wife to tell him exactly what she wants, because he knows he can be a bit dense sometimes. He tries his best, always, to do things according to your liking, but usually, you just let him do his thing since sometimes you need nothing more than his presence.

"I would never tease you like that, my," he pesters, "baby." With his lips stuck at the last inch before he's able to get it near your clothed cunt, you scoff, pressing your thighs together to squeeze his face.

"You better fucking not tease me tonight," you warn him and Mingi bites his lip, feeling his already-very-hard cock twitch inside his joggers at the cause of your tone.

"I love you too much," your husband answers and moves his head around, his pointy nose grazing against your covered clit. Like an automatic reaction, you gulp and throw your face to the side, your hand intertwining with Mingi's long fingers that are resting at the seam of your panties.

"Oh, please," you taunt, “dare to give me your worst performance,” and you think you're safe, since his hands are occupied with yours, but when you are in bed with him, and proceed to tease Mingi like this, then you are never safe with your husband.

(Except the part that you are safe, and safe with the thought Mingi is indeed going to relieve you.) Pressing his tongue against the fabric, Mingi curves it into the band, pushing it with ease, without any type of struggle to— and you should've seen this coming— plunge his tongue into your folds. "Fuck, Mingi," you breathe and he's chuckling against your wet cunt, as he laps his wet muscle over your slickness to gather what has been collecting in your underwear, slow and sensually, though his heavy breathing tells you that he's going to feast on it in no time.

He ‘loves you’, you know that, but ‘too much'? — Can there ever be too much?

"Ohh, fuck, that's good, right fucking there," you groan, gripping into Mingi's hand. With your feedback, Mingi continues to purl over your clit, sucking the fluid so it can spread on his tongue and melt in his mouth.

No. There could never be too much.

You taste so delicious, and it goes without saying that Mingi finds it fascinating that you look even better from this angle; he can see every lash of yours flutter with the slow flicking of his tongue, adding speed as he goes. “Yes,” you whimper, “‘feels so good.”

His heart and mouth are cooperating wonderfully, as his lips are spelling words of awe into your labia; He’s pronouncing how good it feels so good to be your husband, how good it feels to do good— and oh, it is so good to be yours, Y/N. You can’t even believe. The sounds you let out tingle all of his senses and he’s definitely going to have to hurry with his studio, if he wants to eternalise them.

Mingi holds the eye-contact to not miss any of your expressions, laving at your cunt with bizarre flexibility that makes you twist here and there, but his forearm is pressing you down to keep you on your back. "Squirmy," he grins, babying you while you are unable to open move your legs, since your own set of trousers is keeping them closed together, "am I doing you that well?”

Panting because of how constrained you are despite wanting to move around so much, you throw your head down on the soft mattress. "Uh-huh," you exhale, feeling his tongue circle around your clit and tease itself into your entrance, "so well."

Mingi's head is spinning. He wants to make you cum so fast, but he also wants you to beg for your orgasm until your voice is hoarse from the moaning, just so he can see your ribcage move up and down the bed one more time, no, please so many times, and maybe he could get his fingers in so he can— fuck, didn't he plan this out?

He makes it look easy, but in your husband’s mind, he's puzzling and figuring out the ways to pleasure you the best way he can. Mingi heaves and laughs, noticing how he's been cutting himself short of breath, too excited to be pleasuring you. "You’re so beautiful, baby," he says, voice having become raspy and an octave lower than usual; it appears to you that he's drunk on your taste, "you're making me insane with that view."

You inhale through your mouth with your lip-corners pointing upwards, a bit shy with your husband's praise, but you have no other way around than to listen to Mingi's dreamy words. "Unnh-huh," you react, but once your husband is laving at your cunt again, talking amidst of it, you are becoming a mindlessly noisy mess.

"My pretty baby," Mingi murmurs, and as he does so, his mouth is flocking in your slick, tickling your clit repeatedly, "my prettiest, loveliest baby, so whiny for me, fuck."

"More, Mingi," you grunt, feeling like the blouse is keeping you tight, so you push yourself up and get it off your arms— Mingi uses his chance to pull your panties over your knees— and after that, the male digs deeper into your crevice, thighs pressing him in which makes him gasp for dear air, "please."

Your pleads are meaningful to him, make his heart jump, make his head click like he's a dog being asked to obey, and okay, Mingi doesn't think he wants to be a pet, let alone an animal, but— you know what? Your pleads not only show what a considerate wife you are, it also makes Mingi know how much you want him, and that’s the best feeling in the entire world, and he would do everything to chase your pleasure and praise.

“Oh, I got all night, baby,” your husband chuckles, he’s grinding himself against the bed, huffing and panting, tongue delving deep into you on your command.

He drags the intertwined hands of yours down the tiny bit it needs for his thumb to meet your clit, and as Mingi rubs extensively over it, your knuckles go white from how strongly you grip into his fingers.

Oh god, this is exactly what you wanted. His tongue, his lips, his hands, oh, his hands— his fingers; those ridiculously long fingers that cover your whole pelvic bone when extended— slender and rapid, frantically incautious over your cunt, so eager to push you over the edge, pull you back up and throw you over again and again; you love how they look against your body, on your head, on your neck, on your cunt, everywhere they travel during your desirous journeys.

"Aren't I so scarily good?", Mingi huffs, nervy and immodest, talking to get himself to breathe, clearly confident that you are feeling the best you've felt the whole day given the way your muscle was contracting around his tongue, when it was still in you; unfortunately you're unable to answer him with words, just letting out another gutsy "unnnh" as feedback.

"I know, oh, I know," he grins, his thumb rubbing over your clit like he's racing with your stuttered breath, but ultimately, he’s making you feel quite empty with the lack of his mouth at your cunt, and he’s making you feel that way on purpose, "I'm the best, I can do you the best—"

"Mingi! Your Tongue! Please."

After his pant, his mischievous little chuckle, you understand it, understand it all clearly: your naughty Mingi loves to be ordered around by his wife. Loves being ordered around knowing that, once his tongue is inside you, you'll do absolutely nothing to hold him back, and it does make you want to fuck him even more, doesn’t it? You love your husband, you feel so young with him, so undisturbedly yourself— and how loved you feel, too.

Humming a fond "I got you, baby", Mingi shuffles himself together one last time, your thighs sitting perfectly on his shoulders, and there he goes, driving his tongue into you, even more ecstatic than before; now, that you even begged him to, it's like your husband has taken enough of a back to duplicate the amount of vigor, exponentially getting faster and more impassioned. "Oh, fuck," you breathe out and with Mingi's tongue rubbing your inner walls wild and avidly, his thumb sprinting across your sensitive clit, you are heading straight to your first orgasm.

"Just like that," you whine, knowing very well that it gets your husband riled up well across his usual efforts, and you continue with it just to chase your high, "just like that, baby, just like—"

Hey now, did you just call him 'baby'? And how sneakily you did it, too! You know how crazy it gets him, you tease. Your husband’s tongue raves against your sweet spots and your slick gets combined with his saliva, his thumb using the moisture as lube to not miss any of the chances to make you squirm and spasm on his touches, but Mingi’s cock, his poor cock, twitches in the short moment his sweet, desirous pet-name is exhaled out of your pretty mouth he’s definitely going to need to kiss a thousand times until he can only taste the word “baby” on his lips.

His own pelvis is grinded deep into the mattress, and pearls of sweat form on both your foreheads, your eyes rolling to where you can’t see Mingi concentrating on your face, when it cums with a movement of your pelvis bucking up.

“… That!”, you moan, and Mingi pants, shovelling your come into his mouth, slurping it up so long until you physically have to wring with him to get his tongue off your pussy, but the trousers at your calves make it impossible. It’s Mingi’s choice here. And he’s not letting go.

“Ba—,” you squirm, rocking your body from side to side, “—by, please! Fuck!”

“Call me ‘baby’ one more time, just for me,” he lisps, laving his tongue against your throbbing, pulsating clit, all the while you try yank your ass down, overwhelmed by your prolonged pleasure.

“Baby! Baby, baby, baby—“, you whimper, and Mingi kisses your inner thigh, when he finally stops, satisfied by your calling. With one last peck on your clit, he lets go off your hands and slips out your chokehold, pulling off your pants by hooking his fingers in and sliding them off your feet. “Aww, look at you,” he beams, grinning, going through his hair and stroking his swollen lip, “all blushed away, reminds me of the older days, baby.”

“You are the worst,” you sob, and lay lax on the bed, legs once in for all extending and relaxing. Strangely enough, your head feels light, and your body that was straining and trying to get Mingi off of it, is now feeling warm and calming down from the high.

“Aw, you think so?” Mingi smiles, kissing up your leg, your hip-bone, pressing his lips on your abdomen, your tummy, your ribs, marking all of your body with his love-soaked mouth. "I adore you so much."

Having wrung with your husband, you got rid of some of the fighting needs, but— as you’re being smothered by him and his sweet antics— you sigh into the gentle, feathery contact with your skin, and play molten with his soft hair.

You remind yourself of his words, ‘don’t care about me’, but your husband would be a fool to assume that his wife doesn’t want to give him anything back. “Mingi,” you murmur— noticing that you’ve been closing your eyes due to the relaxation you are experiencing, and he immediately answers an attentive “yes, baby?” back, as he repeatedly kisses your jaw.

“Do you really want me to order you around?”, you hum.

“Haha, no, baby,” he chuckles, “it's just…”

Mingi harrumphes in his thoughts, wrapping his arms around your waist, laying his head on top of your tummy and looking up to you— whispering, "I want to do what's best for you. Especially on days like these."

Your heart throbs at the sight of your husband's hair being dishevelled, his already plump lips seemingly looking more peachy, rosy, kissable after he's eaten you out with more than greed and thirst; something that’s more valuable to a healthy marriage than the phrase ‘good sex, no ex’— Love. And the sweetest love there could ever be.

"You would do that for me, baby?", you ask him, your voice coming out sighed.

"Yes, of course," he insists, kissing you down your sternum, your ribcage moving up and down in a slow rhythm. “Baby, you work so much for us… I feel like this is something I can do for you in return, you know?”

“But what if I don’t make you cum?”

"Huh?"

Mingi stops kissing you and glances upwards. You grin. You wanted to catch him off-guard a little bit. (Though you don't know whether that's surprise in the white of his eyes or something like... intrigue.)

“… Uh,” he gutters, thinking about his words very carefully, but ultimately failing to find something good to say.

You smirk and go through his hair, gently grabbing a handful of it. “I think you’d find it hot."

"Really?", he asks, nervously huffing.

"Mingi, didn’t I edge you all during our early twenties?”

“Baby, don’t—“

“What? Well, I thought it was hot. I remember it being really hot.”

“Those were trying times.”

“We did try a lot of things during college.”

Reminiscing and visiting your rather youthful, spry days, Mingi pushes his head deeper into your hand and smiles, having calmed down from the rather exciting idea that you would suggest something so risqué to him. How long has it been? More than ten years, wow.

"Look at us now, baby," Mingi murmurs, sub-consciously wandering up the silhouette of your body with the backside of his hands, making you rather ticklish, but in a way that goosebumps find themselves on your skin, your breath feeling lighter with each stroke of his finger-tips, "Look at you." He inhales, and then exhales, your thumb resting at his ear, "You are trying to kill me, baby..."

"Ohh, Mingi, I'm not!", you giggle, and you may not know what your husband is talking about, but through his lenses— though you would be right to assume that these lenses are painted a deep, deep red— he's seeing his wife be tempered, moderate, relaxed. If he finds you so hot when you're fuming, Mingi finds you enthralling, when your eyes are barely open, the slightest of smile decorating your lips, and an even more hidden pink daubed on your cheeks... You're his wife, Mingi repeats to himself, and his heart grows double its size because of it.

"I love you," he murmurs, and for the moment, he doesn't even know he said that out loud, “I love you so much”, and means it more the second time.

And there you lay, on the mattress, your husband beginning to kiss you again, his hands cupping your head, your fingers interlaced in his hair. "I love you too," you whisper, and as Mingi grabs you by your back, inviting you to get your body up, you're right in the zone again.

Soft, smitten contact— it’s your lips this time to cover Mingi’s neck with kisses, down to his shoulders, his collarbones, your knee working against his crotch, arms swung behind his head.

“I want to take care of you, baby,” Mingi whispers, his thumb caressing your jawbone, as you peck away the sweat on his skin, he will need another shower. “I want to make love to you.”

You smile in awe of your husband lulling the loveliest of words into your ear, soft rustling from your sheets accompanying his voice. The room you decorated together, the home you fill, and even sooner, you'll start a family— with Mingi as a father to be proud of. Who has done so much to keep you happy.

"But sometimes I think—”

“No, baby,” you interrupt him, his voice was dropping and you know you are preventing Mingi from talking bad about himself. He feels guilty, though you've told him uncountable times that you don't feel like you're the only one under this roof.

"But—"

“Baby, no.”

"Okay... I guess I just love you, then." Mingi chuckles, when your fingernails trail down his breast, drawing a line along his muscle definition, “what did you think I was gonna say?”

“Something that’s gonna take me off my mood,” you hum, hooking yourself at his joggers. Mingi sighs, loudly, not yet relieved, but still at peace somehow.

“Make love to me, Mingi.”

A slight gasp leaves his mouth. Oh…

“Y/N… You can’t say things like that.”

With a smirk, your hand disappears in his joggers, and then in his boxers; his thick, throbbing, struggling cock slicking in your grip, as you wrap your fingers around it.

“I can, baby, and I will,” you sneer, “I thought you wanted the best for me?”

He grits his teeth, but Mingi smiles, finding himself at your service. “Am I the best?”, he asks you, leaning forwards to rest his head against your shoulder, pushing you down again.

“You’re the absolute best, Mingi.”

You slowly glide your hand up and down his length nibbling at his ear, exhaling, seducing him. “You’re the best husband,” you purr, “with the most handsome face,” kissing his temple, “and”, with your other finger hooked at the waist band of his joggers, you reveal “the best cock.”

Mingi is touched. A bit embarrassed, yes, it’s been a while since he’s heard you talk like this, but to hear from the best wife that he is deemed the best husband is the highest compliment he could have gotten. What, his face still charms you? His cock is still alluring to you? Don’t judge him, but even after ten years he will be moved by your words.

Moved.

“Come on, Mingi,” you coo, feeling your cunt pulsate between your legs, his cock twitch between your fingers; your husband gulps and, with your command, roams against your body, "let's get you to work."

Maybe he's really revisiting things from the past, after all the talk about your college endeavours, because you definitely recognise his canine teeth ever-so slightly sunken into your shoulder, as Mingi grabs you by your thighs and spreads your legs gently. Your body remembers, and his cock surely does as well, glistening in pre-cum as it is positioned at your cunt. "God, baby," Mingi grunts, and you lick over your lips in anticipation.

“You’re so beautiful,” he pouts, and in an almost reverent tone, Mingi brushes away a sweaty strand of hair from your face, “you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

“Not even your mom?”, you giggle, and while you think of your mother in law with utmost respect, your husband smiles, unfazed; “She’ll agree.”

And with that, Mingi is inside you, all of his length gliding into you with utmost caution; he’s driving in his pelvis unhurriedly, slow and deliberate, just so you can feel every inch of you inside expand for his girth, stretch for his entrance. "Fuck," you gutter and grab Mingi by his hair, pulling him close to you just as he begins to move, your moan coming out muffled against his lip.

"Never growing tired of it, are you?", Mingi grins into the kiss, and he's right, he's so, totally right, but your face is strained together in ecstasy, lascivious— aphrodisical to your husband. He's throbbing and he can feel how warm his own cock is, as Mingi pulls himself out of your tightness in his entirety and then, "fuck," pushes himself right back in inside you to experience it all again.

"I could never grow tired of my hubby," you chuckle and fuck, feel him, physically feel how he's getting excited about your words, something so enrapturingly hot boiling inside him; but while your personal heat ends up being your devilish little voice encouraging you to tease him, Mingi's does nothing more than to whisper him the most delicate ways of loving.

If he sucks on the spot right here at your pretty, graceful collarbone, will you sigh out an even more graceful breath? (Yes!) If he slides his tongue across your neck, just until your sensitive jaw, will you pull his hair with some type of feistiness? (Oh, god yes!) If Mingi, looking at you with sunken eyes, catches you off-guard and pistons his pelvis in at this exact moment, will you— "Fuck, baby!"

Oh, he didn't even need a voice for that one. Your husband slithers his arms under your armpits, one hand holding you by your back, the other resting on top of your head, so you don't hit the bedframe and hurt yourself, as it falls to the back with his thrust.

"Want me to say sorry?", he hums, again slowly driving himself out, knowing very well that once Mingi changes the direction, he will hit your sweet-spot again, and you shake your head rather weakly, drunken on the feeling of him filling you out.

"Good," Mingi confirms your answer, peppering kisses all around your forehead, as he quickens up his pace, breathing throughout it all. "Y/N," he sighs, you sighing with him for all the same reasons, "you feel so good."

You get used to the rhythm and let loose of the sheets, lightly scratching his skin at his waist. "You feel so good, baby," Mingi repeats himself and his eyebrows are pushed together, his grunts vibrating down your cunt. "Do you feel good, baby?"

Nodding, whispering a wispy string of a lot of 'yes'es, Mingi flashes his eye-smile and digs his face deep into the nook of your neck. He doesn't say it, because he's too busy panting, moaning, breathing out to his own thrusts, but your husband is overjoyed. You feel so tiny under his body— and maybe it's because you are, and yet the place you have reserved in his even bigger heart— which even in this moment, is beating for you and nobody else— is inexplainably huge. He wants to be yours as much as he wants you to be him, be with him, have all his life painted in your pretty colours until his canvas drivels over.

His cock is slipping in and out of you at fast speed now, your whiny moans encouraging Mingi to hold this angle since you're not stopping with it; "Are you close?", he asks and gets one arm of his out to rest his hand on the bedframe, towering over you, hair falling in front of his eyes.

"Yes, I'm close," you answer and search for another kiss, raising your hand to his cheek, Mingi immediately plunging his face into yours. He's close too, has been for a while now, but he had to get your confirmation that he was finally able to release himself into you— and then, when you nibble at his lip while a heavenly note of a moan leaves your opened mouth, Mingi's pelvis moves by itself.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," he cusses, having to install one hand at your hips so he doesn't rock you around too much, voice becoming high and needy, greed messing with the practiced way he thrusts into you, becoming sloppy and all the while passionate, chasing the speed it takes to make you feel the best and even better. His other hand slides onto your clit, and it does so by muscle memory, knowing exactly where to rub so you clench around him, scream out his name.

"I love you so much, baby, I want you so bad, and I'm— fuck," he heaves, his voice catching up with his movement, "I'm going to love you until we grow old, baby, I want to be with you until the end of our days— I," and Mingi is rambling his free mind here, his whole body, mind and soul at your service, "I want you to have me forever, Y/N."

"Mingi," you whine, and his cock doesn't stop hitting your soft-spot, your clit tingling from his thumb, making you dopey, skipping you through time, to a future where you lay with Mingi in bed at the same late hour, both heads fuming from work, trying to your steam off together now, worried that your kids will hear your words, grunting silently into each other's ears, the words being, "I'm gonna cum!"

Oh, what good days await you two, and how straight you're heading for it, too— with Mingi's breathing being cut short, coming out stuttered from how fast he's ramming himself into you, not too rough, but fluidly and ceaselessly until you are gasping for air, feeling the string be stretched further and further, pulled for release, spiralled by your husband's vigor and his panting; "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum so fucking bad, fuck!"

Mingi soaks sweatily in your words, his hair chaotic, his abs glistening from the heat of it all— you yank your hand out his mouth, your lower body curling up— "Fuck, baby!"

And with your tightened cunt Mingi lets out a deep, whole-hearted grumble, falling flat on your body, as he spasms; his hot, thick semen shot seeps through along the tip of his cock out your cunt, needing to be fucked right back into you so it doesn’t get lost on your sheets— you seeing absolute bliss, as he pistons into you one last time, eyes focused on your husband.

“Baby,” Mingi pants, and with your gazes meeting, his lips rush over to your cheek, pecking you one, two, three times— and then, on your lips one, two— no, holding one long kiss with you, his plump, rosy softness making your body melt into the mattress, as it falls deeper in slumber. “I love you,” he whispers into your kiss, tucking some of your hair behind your ear, “my baby.”

He pulls out, infamously slow, making you heave on his length even after you both finished. “Mingi,” you exhale, feeling your eyelids close by themselves, your husband slightly chuckling.

“Sorry, baby,” he says, caressing your waist and cheek, “you need anything?”

“Oh, Mingi,” you laugh; Mingi can't help himself, can he? Will always ask for your wishes, wishing to grant them, like he's some wizard, a magician, a devoted believer of your enjoyment and happiness— "You did all you could have done, baby."

"Really?"

"Come on, Mingi, you big baby, c'mere."

He huffs, a bit sulky maybe, your silly husband, getting the blanket from the bed to throw it over his shoulder and wham, over you— cuddling you in, for now ignoring that the both of you need a hot, steamy shower, just breathing in and out your presence, your sweet, dulcet presence, which caramelizes in his warmth, against his body, melting.

"Thank you for being there for me, baby," you smile, voice dampened by the blanket, but Mingi understands you just well enough.

You don't need to thank him. Mingi knows you know that. He's obsessed with you, and though you could try and say you're just as obsessed, your husband will try everything to your favour to prove otherwise.

As Mingi throws his arm around your shoulder and pulls you close to his breast, making you listen to his heartbeat, beating just for you, you hear him whisper all kinds of affirmations. 'I'll never leave your side, I'll never make you feel lonely, I'll be yours forever.”

A career? A family? A happy life?

It's all waiting for you, patiently, each day and night you leave and come back home— in office clothes and a chaotic mind— watching, admiring, hoping to get the weight of responsibility off your shoulders, get you a taste of freedom, a taste of the fruits of your labour.

"Are you asleep?", he asks and you groan silently, pressing your face deeper down his armpit. "Baby..."

Mingi chuckles. You need this sleep, totally, but you also need to be cleaned up, which gives him the challenge to grab you by your leg the most gentle way he can, lift you up— and, when you lie in his embrace, head snuggled into his breast— he’s careful to not wake you up with the sounds of water splashing down his hand, as he soaps you in.

It’s difficult, this is difficult, it will all be so difficult— but Mingi, being your husband, your soul-mate, your everything, he’s putting his all on it to make it work.

(Work you up, make you work for it; until your voice is hoarse, until your body shakes, until your head is light and you can do it, all over again, the next day, evening and night.

“Happy wife, happy life!”

(Maybe Mingi embraces his new role as the father of your children too much.))

#song mingi smut #song mingi fluff #song mingi x reader #song mingi x y/n #song mingi scenarios #song mingi imagine #ateez x reader #ateez smut #chokkiwa #chokko

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yandere-daydreams · 1 year

Text

Title: Scorched Earth.

A Grab Bag For A Very Lovely Anonymous Commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Warrior x Reader.

Word Count: 1.3k.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships, Mentions of War/Death, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, and Kidnapping.

You saw the torchlight hours before he reached your cottage.

Bright and brilliant, a red stain ebbing through the trees and bleeding into the dark sky. The forest was dense, the canopy stifling, yet somehow, the light he and his soldiers carried was awful enough to pierce through it all, to burn away every behind them and fill the open air with thick, choking smoke. You could’ve tried to flee, it wasn’t as if you couldn’t guess what was coming for you, but you didn’t keep a horse, and you knew better than to stave off the inevitable. He’d catch you, no matter how far you ran, no matter how many times you refused him. He’d promised as much, the first time he declared that you’d be his.

Rather than escape, you stayed where you were, perched on the rotting wooden steps leading up to your door and watching the oncoming flare. His scouts, dressed in black and prone to circling your meager home like vultures, reached you before he did, then sergeants, piling in by the dozen, well-armed and jeering and carrying his insignia with a sort of heady arrogance. Finally, he emerged from the growth, surrounded by his lieutenants and mounted on a sleek, grey steed larger than any you’d ever seen before. He was a far cry from how you’d seen him last – his bandages gone, his pitch-black hair grown down to his shoulders, the rags you’d been able to lend him traded out for shining armor clean enough to catch the torchlight and glow scarlet. A great-sword sat at his hip, two more curved blades crossed over his back, but you couldn’t seem to find much joy in his fortune. Not when you’d soon be counted among one of his many, many precious things.

As he dismounted, the movements practiced to the point of thoughtlessness, you rose to meet him, hyper-aware that this would likely be the last time you’d be able to stand on equal ground. “Wren.”

It wasn’t his name. You’d misheard him, the first time you asked; made what you could out of the slurred syllables he’d been able to spit out and never found the time to look back. Even when he started to recover, when he was able to hold onto consciousness for longer than a minute at a time and more than just your clumsy stitching held the jagged cut stretching from his shoulder to his hip shut, he always failed to correct you. His real name – Wyvern, given to him as an unknown orphan after he slayed his namesake and delivered its head to a king who’d let him massacre armies and rampage through the countryside as he pleased – was something you had to learn the day he left, the day he told you who he was and why you’d found him bleeding out in a stream all those months ago. He’d asked you to come with him, back to the castle, and through tears, you’d told him that you wouldn’t have helped him if you’d known you were saving the life of a murderer. He’d tried to kiss you, and you slapped him and told him to get out of your cottage.

It wasn’t his name, but he smiled like it was, taking a step toward you. His soldiers started to close in, but he held up a hand, keeping them at bay. “Beloved.” It was a familiar petname. It used to make you blush, stammer, want to make flower crowns and kick your feet and learn to play some ridiculous stringed instrument. Now, it just made your stomach turn, your vision dim at the edges with rage. “I’m sorry I took so long to return to you. I had to gather a few friends – thought you should meet the future guests of our wedding.”

There was cheer from his soldiers, a flash of a grin from Wren. You stiffened, squaring your shoulders, but he remained unaffected, his expression only softening as you forced yourself to respond. “I meant what I said. I could never love a man with blood on his hands.”

If he heard you over the milling of his soldiers, the crackling of his torches and the distant sounds of the forest’s nightlife, he clearly wasn’t listening. Rather he closed the remaining space between you and him and took you in his arms. Your feet were off the ground in a moment, your chest against his chest in another, being spun idly as he let out a throaty laugh. “God,” he sighed, when he finally came to a stop. The sharp corners of his plated armor dug into your skin at odd angles, and his hold on your waist was tight enough to bruise. You’d had to ask him to be gentle before, to mind his inhuman strength when he touched you, but it was a lesson he just couldn’t seem to take to heart. “I missed the sound of your voice. I’ll have to take you with me on my next campaign - I don’t know if I could stand to leave you at court for all that time.”

“Put me down,” you hissed, hitting his shoulders with as much force as you could manage. He abided you, but didn’t let go of you – just moving his hold from your hips to your hands, taking them in his own before you had time to pull away.

“I couldn’t. I absolutely couldn’t. Most of the knights are absolute bastards, and you’re too sweet – they’d try to take you for themselves in a heartbeat. No, I can’t let you out of my sight for a moment, can I?” He paused, his face lighting up with apparent zeal. “You’ll adore the castle. I’ve already secured a cottage on the edge of the grounds, and you’ll have full reign of the gardens. We won’t have to—”

“Stop.” You attempted to wrench yourself out of his vice-grip, and when that failed, let out a ragged groan, tears already forming in the corners of your eyes. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“That’s not true.” His smile didn’t so much as waver. “You saved my life. You told me that you loved me, and I love you, too. How would either of us ever be happy if we were seperated?”

Something deep in your chest ached. It was impossible to look at him and not picture the countless mornings you’d woken up by his side, the countless days you’d passed teaching him how fish and tend to a garden, the countless nights you’d spent bundled beside a fire sharing stories with a man you thought you’d loved. It was impossible not to think about what he’d done and wish you’d driven that knife into his stomach yourself.

“I can’t love someone like you,” you said, finally, because you couldn’t bear to say anything else. “And I’m not leaving my home.”

At that, you could’ve sworn you saw something register in his dark eyes. He was quiet, his enthusiasm fading, and for a second, you thought he might’ve understood. For a second, you thought he might call away his soldiers, get back on his horse, and leave you to your quiet suffering.

Then, he leaned forward, his lips coming to rest against the top of your head. “Beloved,” his voice was low, stifled your skin. “You don’t have a home. Not without me.”

Abruptly, he pulled away from you, raising a hand and looking toward his soldiers. While you were left in the dark, they knew their signal, surging forward in a chaotic wave of yelling and footsteps. You pressed your form against Wren’s side, clenching your eyes shut and bracing yourself, but there was only a burst of heat, a sudden visible even through your eyelids. Another kiss, this one pressed into your cheek and chased with a soft chuckle.

When you could bring yourself to look, you found not a volley of arrows or a hundred swords all pointed at your neck, but your cottage engulfed in flame, shining golden in the oppressive night. Your shoulders fell, your mouth opening, but you failed to make a sound. Wren wasn’t as stunned, grinning as he pulled you close and pressed his lips into yours, the kiss delicate and tortuous all at once.

“Don’t worry,” he muttered as he pulled away, his tone so soft and so gentle, you could almost tell ignore the blood-soaked cruelty lingering just underneath it.

“The only home you need is with me.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere oc #yandere scenarios #yandere soldier #yandere royalty #yandere knight #yanderecore #yancore

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thewritetofreespeech · 2 months

Text

What the Future Holds

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Aemond & the Greens have returned victorious, but at what cost? [before all this: X XX XXXX]

-------------------------------⚔️--------------------------------

"Aemond, tell me true. Did you do this to Aegon on purpose?"

Aemond stared at you for a long moment. Seeming to debate lying, but you knew he would never truly lie to you. "...not entirely on purpose..."

"Oh Gods Aemond...." You felt the air sift out of your lungs. Thinking back to Aegon's burnt, mangled body in the bed. The maesters not confident in his recovery to the point that they had all but stepped aside to let the septons have him. You needed to sit down.

Aemond rushed to your side, kneeling in front of your seat, his hands on your knees. "You have to believe me. This wasn't my intention at the start."

"Aemond..." He was getting perilously close to his first lie ever towards you.

"I was being careful, like you told me." You scoff ruefully at his explanation. It sounded a lot like blaming. "But Rhaenys and Aegon were..." He paused then. Seeming to think back on that moment and he did not look happy on it. "I did what I had to. Aegon got caught in the crossfire."

"Literally?" You don't mean to be glib but Nine Hells this was a lot to process.

Aemond's expression looked worried. Fretful. He took your hands in his and held them tight. As if scared you would run away if he didn't hold them. "With Meleys and Rhaenys gone, the Blacks have lost one of their dragons and decidedly best council. Rhaenyra is not educated in war. Daemon is as brash and impulsive as my brother. They will never recover from this. Aegon was...a necessary sacrifice for the greater good."

"Aemond, this isn't like you push him off a bridge or cut his arm off in a duel. You set him on fire!"

"If he can't stand a little dragon fire, then he's no true Targaryen." He reasoned. Sitting back on his heels but still focused on you. "Don't you see? With Aegon out of the way we can end this war and be done with it. No more loss. No more bloodshed."

"No more King?"

You knew Aemond was being honest with you, but you also weren't stupid enough in love to not realize his intentions weren't all pure. "You said it yourself. We must think of the line. Of our future." He grasped your hand again, only this time one for one. Your binding hands. "Mine and yours."

You take a deep breath and look around. Trying to make sense of this, but Aemond rose up on his knees to take your face in his other hand and focus on him. "Westeros deserves a king who will lead it to glory. Who will appreciate it. Not a man, a child, who has squandered everything in his life. Who didn't even want it. And Westeros deserves a Queen who will guide them. Not a meek eyed doe like my sister. Not a zealot like my mother. You. Together we can make this kingdom better. Because we will be better. The Gods may not have chosen us first, but we are the right choice." Every word from Aemond rouses your heart. You knew of his passion, but who knew he was such a wonderful orator. "Tell me you feel the same. Tell me you believe in this."

You look upon Aemond and think on his words. "I'm not going to help you kill Aegon."

He sat back down on his heels and frowned at you. "I wouldn't ask you to."

"But I won't stand in your way." You finish.

If he dies, you will accept it. If he lives, Aemond would have to accept that too. This was the coin toss the Gods had offered all of you.

The prince thought on your answer, then nodded. It was the best you could offer and the best he could hope for. "Alright." He rose back up again, tentatively this time, and wrapped his arms around you. "You believe me, right? You do not hate me, do you?"

"Never." You might not agree with what Aemond was doing, but you could never hate him. It was done now anyway. "Promise me you will remain careful though."

"I will try." He had promised you that before, and here you were.

You held Aemond close, and he clung to you. You want to believe that this was all a mistake. An accident of zealousness born from wanting this war over and peace to come to the land. A necessary sacrifice, as Aemond had said. There was no denying he was right. The Blacks would never recover from a blow so hard, but what of the Greens?

There is a nagging feeling in your chest, however, that for the first time Aemond was lying to you. Or perhaps he was also lying to himself.

There was still much uncertainty on what the future holds for the two of you, but all you knew was that you held your future right here. With Aemond in your arms. Even if you didn't agree with his motives.

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knightyoomyoui · 1 year

Text

[SMUT] TWICE Sana x Male Reader - "You Can Watch, But Do Not Touch... Unless I Consent You So"

WARNING: contains smut, R+18 content TAGS: honeymoon, rough sex, edging, titfuck, blowjob, doggystyle, full nelson, mirror sex, fluff, smut, newlywed, footjob WORD COUNT: 5200+

The hallway was full of laughter from you and Sana as both made their way into the hotel room you checked into, where you'll be staying for 2 days.

It was necessary so that you and her could get prepared easily for your wedding today, and it concluded smoothly as the priest eventually proclaimed the two of you to be husband and wife.

As newlyweds, you and she left the church instantly to head into your private place where you can rejoice together with your wife, just like usual couples do once they walk out with their wedding rings now attached to their fingers.

Carrying Sana in your arms, her hands were firmly locked around your neck as she looks at your side-profile with excitement equal to her own as you and her made your way inside the room as you opened the door.

You brought down Sana on her feet, engaging you again for another passionate kiss before she lets go and displays a bright smile that you always loved seeing from her.

"We did it, Sana." you said to her, wrapping your arms around her waist. "We fulfilled our promise to each other."

"It was all worth it, YN... and it even feels like I've won anything in my life now that I also got to achieve this one remaining thing I've been dreaming ever since I learned what is love all about... and that is to be married with a man that would treat me with care and looks at me like I am his whole world, and I'm really glad that it has to be you, YN." Sana gracefully said, pressing her palm on your cheeks as she giggled at your funny yet adorable appearance in her silly act.

"I love you, YN. I can't wait to see how the future holds upon us, now that it's up to us together to do whatever we want to have."

"I know, and I love you too, Sana. And we won't stop until the time considers it over."

You planted another quick peck at her lips before you walked your way into the bed and sat side by side with her. Staring at her beautiful dark orbs in the center of her pearly eyes, you had the notion of asking her, which piqued your curiosity.

"So... uhm, what shall we do now?"

"Isn't this the part where the two lovely couples get to full embrace their love now that their hearts are officially bound into one... without no limits?" Sana answered.

Her fingers slid upwards into your neckties and gently tugs it before she removes it on her own. Your smile shudders, encapsulating a hint of tense.

"Sana, a-are we really gonna do it?"

"Hmm... I guess so." She shrugs, tightlipped.

"Are you sure about this?" You asked her with concern. "I mean... are you ready to do this with me?"

Sana grabs your hand and softly looks at it as she caressed your skin with her slender fingers. "Ofcourse, I am. For you, I'm willing to try anything as long as it gives us joy and pleasure for good. How about you, will you join me in this?"

"There's no way I would say no that makes you happy and comfortable with me, Sana." You shook your head.

"Good. Then let's start.

I've been waiting for this moment to come anyway."

For a second kiss, Sana took the initiative to pull your head towards her and move her tongue and lips. Your well-built body beneath your suit caught her hands' attention as they went wild in tandem with her sensuality.

With a mixture of astonishment and amazement that you are actually doing this with Sana, you made the decision to follow her lead and expressed your affection and fanciness to the fullest extent possible. But much to your surprise, just as you were about to touch her waist, she swatted it away. You discover Sana is looking at you with utmost seriousness at that point.

"Uhm... I-I'm sorry. D-Did I made y-"

"No, no. Don't take it that way." Sana calms you already, noticing already that you misintepreted her words. "I just... thought of something interesting to add."

"H-huh? What is it?"

"Do you remember how you've went through before you got to made me admit that you made fall in love for you too?"

"Oh... that? Yeah. You were hard to get. You were not an easy person. It took me a while to make you say it before I get to call you mine."

"Exactly. There, you got it." Sana acknowledged. "I'm not an easy person."

"I think... maybe I should consider trying it also on you whenever we're in our own space."

You were so invested in waiting for her slow words that's coming out of her lustful mouth that you didn't even realized she already pushed you to lay down in the bed.

"S-Sana... what are you doing?"

"Sshhh." She covered your lips with her index finger, her flirty way to signal you to stop talking. "You'll be fine. You'll be fine. I assure you, this will be fun~"

"Stay there, okay?" You just nodded. Sana went for her bag and opened it, taking out 2 handcuffs that made your eyes largened.

"W-where did you get that, babe?"

"Some helpful friends." She winked, wiggling the cuffs in her hand. "I suppose you what I'm going to do with this then."

You gulped. That's it, you had learned that between you two in bed, she prefers to be the one who gets to do what she wants to do. She has the power. The control.

In making out, she has to be the dominant one.

You have seen how intimidating and fierce Sana could be when she gets disappointed or mad, and you don't want to test her in your special day with her.

All you have to do... is follow and succumb.

"Now fix yourself for me, raise your both arms above your head."

You hesitantly complied, unaware of what Sana is planning tonight on you. You wouldn't be lying that despite of the strange and anticipation, you're liking also to witness her seductress side goes fully unleashed only for you to experience.

Because if you said that your wife Sana isn't attractive and seductive, who would you be kidding? You don't want to sound foolish when you say that." Cuffing your wrists on the headboard, she patted it before looking down on you. "I'll be right back, okay? I have something to show you."

She touched your cheek with a smirk before she left you and entered the bathroom, leaving you with your tremendous intriguing and the potential outcomes of how all of this would go with Sana in the next few minutes or hours.

She came back to you after a few minutes of doing some stuff you didn't know. It was not that long, but you can tell that she took time for it.

Because you couldn't comprehend what you were seeing in front of you.

Sana is dressed entirely in black lingerie, with the exception of the white bridal veil on her head, which she chose to keep on to give her appearance a touch more elegance, holiness, and seductive air. "You like?" She posed, tilting her waist while her both hands are placed on each side, combined with her breathtaking back arching almost perfectly to hypnotize you.

It's working, but you couldn't sure if you're accurate because you just can't describe exactly in words what's crossing all into your mind as your lovely wife does this to you, setting you up to not only own each other's hearts... but your bodies also.

"No answer for me? That's harsh. You're leaving me in the air. Maybe we won't start th-"

"N-no don't! I-like... I mean... I love it so much, Sana." You shook your head rapidly. You are astonishing to visualize."

"See? It wasn't that hard." She giggled, teasing you.

"Listen to me, pretty boy. You're gonna be under my orders for tonight, you hear me?"

You nodded with amazement at this side of Sana you've never seen before. Surely, you can thank all the Gods above for blessing you with such a perfect woman to serve and satisfy with all love.

"You're just gonna lay there, and you can only watch me but you can't touch me... unless I consent you so. Got it, baby?"

"Y-Yes Sana."

She slapped your thigh, eliciting a stingy ache in your skin. "I'll allow that... but there's one more thing you have to remember... call me mommy when I instruct you like this."

Not only you have to take a not mentally of that, but also the fact that you have discovered Sana's preferred kink when it comes on having sex. Totally you wouldn't attempt disobey her next time, considering that she's being a 'strict' woman that owns the entirety of you.

"I'm going to repeat myself again, but this will be the last. Are we clear, baby?"

"Y-yes, mommy."

"Very good. Now just lay there, relax... and enjoy the show." The volume of her voice is slowly decreasing towards the end, the more she bends as she crawls atop of you.

You watched her remove your suit, unbuttoning your polo and spreading it with your vest until your muscular chest and torso were exposed for her to be in awe.

She kissed each of your pecs and circled her fingertips on your nipples, sending shockwaves of tickles and arousal through your body.

Her crouching precisely on your now bulging pants isn't helping at all. She looks up at you and smirks devilishly; it seems like she felt your boner as you blushed heavily.

"Aww is my baby liking this already? Being played by her mommy so well?"

"U-uhmmm yes m-mommy."

"Then we're gonna have a lot of fun together. I'll make it entertaining so that my baby would be so much happy."

Sana slid her hands downwards, her touch waves at those six packed abs of yours that gives an impressive feature of your midriff. She licks each of the gaps, the softness and slimey texture of her drooling tongue makes you tickle and aroused more.

"A-ahh...."

Kissing the top of your belly button, her hands landed on the waistband of your pants and your boxers, based from hpw her fingers went deep as it clutched.

"I've been noticing that your friend down here is suffering too much, let mommy help you out~"

She tugged it downwards, leaving it half removed as she left it just on top of your knees

She viewed at your now exposed cock on its hard state, pointing towards at her before it twitched when you saw her lick her lips. "Do you know how many times mommy would imagine how big can you be?"

"Ahh shit..."

"Sometimes, I could notice the outline of it whenever we sat beside each other. I would then try my best to pretend I accidentally bump your crotch so that I get a feeling of it... and God, I almost felt dizzy thinking about the size of it wrecking my pussy."

She finally removed both your pants and boxers in your legs, making you fully naked compared to her.

"F-fuck, mommy y-your words..."

"It's all true, baby. Can you believe it? Mommy tried her best to be patient for you, so can you do it for me today too?"

"Yes mommy."

"Alright. Mommy's not gonna hold back anymore, okay? I've waited for so long."

She caressed your thighs and gently extended it for her to occupy more space to feast on the enormous meat served in front of her.

Her hands climbs up until you felt your testicles gets hanged and squeezed tenderly using both of her hand within the gaps of her thumb and index finger.

You blew more air, chest panting faster , fists clenching on the cuffs as you try to compose yourself. "Your balls looks so full. Can't wait for me to drain you until every last drop, baby."

Her right hand ascended, now grasping the base of your cock. She formed a fist around it as she gently began to stroke you dangerously slow.

"O-oh... oh my god."

"Stay still for me, baby. I need you not to let me down on this."

"I'll try my best f-for... mommy."

"It's so fucking big and thick~" Sana said as she bit her lips while staring at your cock being pumped. "I've finally got a hold of it... now it's time to find out how it tastes."

She directed your shaft to her opening mouth before she suckled your mushroom head and slowly slid down into your length, introducing you to a newfound pleasure that will leave you speechless at all.

"U-ughhh s-shittt..... grrrghh...." You moaned as you feel Sana's blowjob to slowly sped up as the pace of her head bobbing up and down increasing.

All of your toes and fingers are now curled, trying with might that you can still hold on much longer.

You accidentally flinched upwards as you felt Sana's tongue twirling around your tip, giving her a quick deepthroat. She looked up at you, shocked at what you did.

"I-I'm sorry..."

She didn't respond. She just stared at you, but to your surprise, you could feel her sucking go deeper as your head was now bumping the walls of her throat, accepting the challenge she thought you put up for her.

Your moans and groans even became louder. The familiar feeling of your abdomen tightening has made you alert; you squirmed a bit so you can fix yourself again while Sana continues to blow you.

"O-oh no... p-please, mommy I'm cumming."

Right in time, she felt your cock twitch in her mouth. She let it slip in her puckered lips, leaving your length all messed with saliva and pre-cum.

"No. You won't cum unless mommy told you so. Understood?"

You nodded, sighing a bit of relief that she stopped sucking you so that your end could be prevented.

Only for it to vanish instantly when you saw what she's doing after.

She removed her black laced bra, revealing her tasty looking breasts as it jiggled from the release. Suddenly, your thirst and craving has intensified.

She positioned back in your crotch, and you watch her present to you what she has in mind next.

Awakening back your cock into its full hardness, she gave it an introductory stroke before placing it on the valley of her supple mounds.

"We're just getting started, baby."

A sly smirk formed in her lips as she starts to lift and then drop her breasts as it suffocates your cock with its embrace. Sana is now giving you a wonderful titjob, her soft pillows is automatically sending you straight into euphoria.

"How does it feel?"

"It feels so freaking incredible, goodness gracious."

"Do you like how my tits graze all over your huge cock, baby?

"Fuck yes, mommy. It feels so comfortable, so good, oh God!"

"Would you love me to put these in your face and help you taste them?"

"Yes, I would really love it, please do it mommy."

"Then be patient and be a good boy for me if you want a reward."

You only nodded. Sana continues to glide her succulent breasts in your reddened aching cock, now being edged for 10 minutes.

More saliva and pre-cum scattered around her skin before she felt the familiar twitch again, leaving your cock on absent again. You whined as your cum almost escaped just when Sana lets go of your cock.

"M-mommy are we not done y-yet?"

"We're almost close, baby. Hang on for me, would you?"

"O-okay..."

She grabbed another chair from the dining area and placed it near the foot of the bed. Stacking your thighs with her legs all covered with black long stockings, she crossed it and posed sexily again on you.

"What about my legs, baby? Do you love my new stockings that I bought exclusively only for you?"

"They're simply look fitting in your legs, mommy."

"Good. And my feet?" She asked you as she rubbed your thighs with it.

"It feels relaxing. It's like I'm having a massage."

"Then you're gonna love this one. I'm going to try one more on you baby. Is that alright?"

"Just do me. I want my mommy to be happy."

She was touched at your thoughtful words. Her feet met at your cock, putting it in between before she pushed it to lay on your stomach and she ran the sole of her feet through the underside of your cock.

"Agh... f-fuck...." You muttered from Sana's excellent footjob.

Your wrists are now hurting a little bit for wiggling with desperation to escape as Sana continues to perform these pleasuring experiments on your throbbing poor cock.

The mushroom head of your penis has gotten slightly purple now from the several times it tried to contain your cum for releasing.

She picked up your cock and stroked it with both of her feet this time. The texture of the fabric of her stockings adds more satisfying sensation to her tantalizing actions.

The stockings got a puddle of wetness filled with a mix of saliva and pre-cum but Sana doesn't care. She puts down again your cock on your abdomen and massaged the underside with her left side while the other began playing on your now disturbed heavy balls.

You couldn't help it. You finally bended your knees from compressing it too much on the mattress to lessen the tightness that you feel. "O-oh my God... m-mommy I think I can't take much longer..." you whined.

"Does my baby want to cum so bad?"

"Please, let me mommy."

"Since you've been good and obedient...

Go on. Cum for me."

She took her legs off the bed and faced your cock again as she hurriedly sucked it. You joined her intensity and buckled your hips back and forth as you were fucking Sana's mouth ruthlessly, a bit of a payback for the torture she's been subjecting you to.

Abruptly, your vision turns to white, as does the entire mouth of Sana, as it was flooded by thick waves of your warm and salty cum, filling her up before she let go of your cock and swallowed your load.

"Mmmhhh... yummy, she said as she sipped on her cum-stained fingers and the slit of your cock to clean and ensure no drop would go to waste. "Good boy, so much cum dripping down on mommy's tummy."

You panted heavily as you were exhausted at the length of time you fought your urges. Sana reaches for the key but before that, she teased you once more again as she did a sultry short dance beside you while removing her black panties and wedding veil, her puffy pink pussy all visible to you.

The now naked Sana grabbed on your wrists. "Are you fine, baby? Was I too much?"

"N-not at all. It's my first time so it's all weird to me, but I'm not lying when I say that was one of the best things I've ever had."

"Great. And now for your reward..." She inserted the key on the hole and switched it. "You are now done watching me, I'll leave everything the rest up to you.

You can touch me now, baby."

As she unlocked the cuff on your other wrist, you quickly hooked your arm around her waist and pushed her towards you. Her breasts connected immediately in your face as you smothered them all over their softness before you started to devour her succulent caramel nipples and areolas while helping her sit down in your lap by elevating her legs on each side.

She grinds on your softening cock while you gnawed on her tits as she mashes her cleavage on your face. "Oohhh hehe aggressive aren't w-ooh mmh~" She moaned as she felt your strong hands kneading both of her soft asscheeks.

"Fuck, you've been testing me for quite long, mommy. You made me to be like this, and I'm not gonna be sorry for it."

"Then show me. Be harsh on your slutty mommy. Fuck her hard for edging her baby's cock and not letting him cum easily."

You might've released the most animalistic grunt ever as you lifted her body and stood your cock to point it through her pussy before you pushed her down, and you didn't go easy on her like she's been begging you to do so; you just quickly fucked her on a rampage.

She went crazy bouncing on your lap, screaming and moaning in shudder as her voice vibrated, echoing with the sounds of loud claps of her ass contacting your crotch.

You kissed her furiously, pushing her head at you by gripping her neck. Her breasts squished on your chest as you locked her figure with your other arm. Now that we are lying down together, the direction of your hammering in her abused pussy has gone upwards.

"FUCKKK ME!!! OH GOD DON'T STOP, DON'T YOU DARE STOP BABY, I'M GONNA CUM ON YOUR MONSTROUS COCK UGH!!!"

"SO AS I. TAKE IT ALL, MY SLUTTY MOMMY!!!"

You went for a strong three strokes before you buried your cock deep into her womb, splashing it with your second streak of baby batter.

Both of you exhaled together to rest for a little before you kissed again, and Sana pushed you away so that she could take most of the entire bedspace.

You realized that she did it so that she could position herself on all fours; she arched her heavenly back to purse her ass further to showcase it to her.

"Take me from behind next, baby~" Sana said. "Do you like my ass wanting for you?"

"Ofcourse I am. Look at how perfect it is." You slapped each of it as she giggled and purred. "Harder. Spank me harder!" You repeated, giving each juicy peaches a balance rough treatment.

"Do all you want, it's yours to devour baby. Mommy needs to be used." She wiggled her ass for you, her cheeks hypnotizingly rippled as you kneaded it before you buried your face on it giving a long lick on her pussy and her asshole.

As you gave it a lube atleast, you pressed the tip of your cock to her glory hole. "Are you ready, mommy?"

"Y-yes, just allow me to adjust okay? Nice and slow."

"As you wish."

You slowly thrust, eliciting a moan and a sigh from her. She stayed still for a while as you gritted your teeth at how extremely tight your wife is. You can go ahead now, baby."

You fucked her with ease, adding a delightful sensation for yourselves. Sana can feel how stuffed her rear was, thanks to your enormously thick meat that's been making her very amused and satisfied for more than an hour now.

Her body moves back and forth; her breasts are madly bouncing from beneath, and you can see a glimpse of them, effectively encouraging you to touch them.

So you did. You bent your body on top of hers as you grabbed her perfecbig big tits and joined them in their swaying movement while giving them a few squeezes.

You kissed her back and neck. Sana flinched, causing her to lose balance on her arms as she crashed safetly on the bed, her breasts are now compressed to the mattress.

Removing yourself on top of her, you altered your position to continue fucking her in the ass with a comfortable fashion. Sana's eyes enlargened, she didn't hold back any batch of loud screams and whimpers and you went fast on fucking her this time in a scissor angle.

Her one leg raised to the air, her side figure laying down, you kneeling and pounding her ass further with the remaining energy you got.

"FUCK! IT'S SO DEEP, IT'S POKING MY WOMB BABY! KEEP DOING IT, I'M ALMOST AT MY END!!!"

You couldn't wait much longer, you went all in as you penetrated her until both of you cum simultaneously, exclaiming a huge moan and grunts especially Sana who is both releasing and getting filled up at the same time with your thick cum.

"Let's go for one more, then... we can rest."

Sana offered her hand to you, and you voluntarily took it, escorting her to get up from the bed. She walked to the front of the body mirror, where she could admiringly see both of your naked bodies standing against each other, looking like a matching pair.

She went flushed at your touch when you rubbed her torso before you went for her breasts, groping them with care and juggled them on your palm.

It turned into another shivering huff and moan when she kissed you, twirling her head upwards to meet your face.

While on a heated session with her, you started to rub your crotch on her ass to tease her. Sana can feel how it's beginning to wake up and become huge again from the crack in her rear.

She raised her arms, initiating you for the last position she has in idea. "Lock me up and fuck me."

No other questions for clarifications or concerns needed, that's all you need to have for you to follow her clear instruction as you simply inserted back your cock on her squelching pussy still creamy from the mixture of your cum altogether.

Sana watches lustfully on the mirror the perverted act that you two are committing. Her handsome husband unforgivingly ramming his hardened wood on his gorgeous wife's tight and warm pussy.

She can obviously see how you give you entire effort to fuck her mindless and achieve the pleasure she's wanting to feel, and she wants to tell you exactly if you might not know yet how grateful and glad she was for you.

"Y-you're doing so great, babe. Let's c-cut the act now here. I just want to let you know that I-I love you and thank you for this. Really, I'm so happy that it's got to be you who I can share these kind of moments with."

You smiled as Sana patted you in the cheek after giving you that appreciative words despite of the stutters from the impact of your pounding.

"I love you too, Sana. I'm just as pleased as you are." You kissed her on the cheek before you quickened your pace, as your impending release has made it presence for you to felt.

Sana knew what it means so she gripped on the back of your head as her body being lifted up and down from the ground. With few more strokes to go, you exploded another and final load of cum inside her pussy.

"As much as I would love for us to continue, I know it's enough for now and we're both tired." Sana patted your head and kissed you in the lips. "We can do more of these next time, but for now... let's have some rest. You did a good job for tonight, baby."

"Thanks, mommy Sana." You chuckled. "That's a hell of a performance you had there for me by the way, you can't blame me why I started to get turned on."

Sana laughed and slapped your arm. "If you loved it so much then you'll going to have it anytime you want whenever it's just the two of us."

"You're simply the best." You nodded and kissed her again before both of you took a shower together and changed into a comfortable sleeping garments as the newlyweds laid on the bed, embracing each other onto slumber.

Few hours later, you suddenly woke up earlier than what you expected, but you wouldn't dare to complain more as you can see the city of Seoul about to welcome the early morning of a brand new day.

You stood in the balcony with your glass of water and stared at the peaceful view as you regained your senses.

Sana who just woke up also after finding that you were no longer on her side in the bed, approaches you and cuddled you from behind.

"Good morning, babe."

"Good morning, my wife." You kissed her crown.

"Can't sleep?"

"No, just woke up early. Still feeling a little tired though."

Sana chuckled and pouted embarrassingly. "Sorry, I guess?" "Cmon, we both had fun so its fine." You hilariously took her response.

You moved her on your side and faced her lovingly. Placing your hand with Sana's, your wedding ring were in contact as you entangled your finger to hers.

"This is just all surreal for me. Being in here, knowing that I almost done most of what I've been dreaming and wishing for my life when I was younger back then. Finish my studies, be a professional engineer, my family now living in a better house, have my ideal girl as my girlfriend to marry her someday... and destiny brought you upon to me, Sana.

I'm so blessed to have you, really. You've been an incredible and perfect girlfriend for me. You stayed even in our highs and lows, hardships and mellow, some of it almost tried to spread us apart and let go, but you never gave up as much as I did. And now that you're standing here as my beloved wife after us getting married yesterday, that sums up everything I need to know and believe that you love me no matter what happens. And I'm telling you that I will never stop loving you back and now all we can do is to hope we can build a wonderful family soon and I'll be the happiest father alive with you, Sana, as the wife of our kids. I love you more than anyone."

Your lips twitched, eyes blinked rapidly as its watery from the tears gathered up by your emotions. Sana hugged you instantly to calm you down, not minding herself who's also getting teary because of your heartfelt message.

"I want us to stay like this forever, and we accomplished that, right? I couldn't just let myself to break up with you thatt's why I want to settle those problems that we had. I don't want that to ruin our plans in the future, and look what led us today. I love you too, YN. Our faith and support for each other should always be there to keep this relationship to be strong and steady. And as your wife, I promise you that I'll continue to help you as I improve myself. It can be useful, well... from what we did last night; yeah hopefully... we can have our own child or more to raise." Sana replied, caressing your back as you cried in her shoulder. She also started to sniff her tears away, getting affected by your honest and sincere sentiment. "D-do you think I can be a perfect mother?" "I always believed in you, Sana. Ofcourse, yes you will be." You stroked her silky hair, smelling the enchanting scent of her shampoo. Sana blushed and shyly smiled, glad that you think of her positive as usual.

"Sorry if I'm being like this, I even made you cry." You chuckled. "I'm just lucky to have you, Sana."

"What are you saying? Don't apologize for saying something wholeheartedly. We've been through a lot anyway. It may be done, but I know it was exhausting, so it's best to just let it all out. I'm here for you, YN. I'll take it all away and be the one who catches all your tears."

Sana cradled your head as she hummed pleasantly to proceed on comforting you. Closing your eyes, you indulged her caring behavior.

Glancing at the golden daylight approaching, the sunrise emerges between the two lovers embracing their shared genuine and unbreakable fondness together.

#twicesana #minatozakisana #sana smut #twice sana smut #twicesanaxmalereader #twicesanaxmreader #twicexmalereader #twice smut #twice smut au #twice au #twice oneshot #kpop oneshot #kpop au #kpop fanfic #twice fanfic #kpop smut

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thebroccolination · 3 months

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KRIST, FAME, AND WHY "YOU SIGNED UP FOR THIS" DOESN'T EXONERATE THE BEHAVIOR OF THE PUBLIC

Lindsay Ellis uploaded this video to YouTube framed around the myth that Yoko Ono broke up the Beatles. It's phenomenal, as her work often is. I'll probably watch the whole thing multiple times in the near future.

Toward the end of the video, Lindsay expands on the morbid paradox of fame. Many of us see it as this aspirational thing that famous people should be grateful to have, and yet we're also aware that the circumstances of being famous often lead to tragic ends for celebrities, either by violence or by their own self-destruction.

Over the past week, I made this thread to explain the events that led to Krist putting his foot down after months of trying to placate the segment of KristSingto fans who are vocally opposed to Krist sharing any part of his continued close friendship with Gawin, Krist's costar from his 2023 BL series "Be My Favorite."

The day he started his break from social media, Krist addressed his fans about what he'd been dealing with very clearly and characteristically sincerely. He expressed his confusion, explained the impossible situation this unreasonable portion of his fanbase had put him in, and ultimately just gave the vibe of a very tired teacher. Coupled with the reality that Krist's fanbase is on average much older than he is, it's a little absurd that a twenty-eight-year-old had to tell a fair number of middle-aged, tax-paying adults that he's allowed to have friends.

Krist concluded his TikTok Live only to be tagged in even more abuse and complaints on Twitter. I saw some of it and didn't bother saving receipts, but you can imagine it. You're hurting your comeback with Singto by posting Gawin's photos, Krist. This comeback isn't going well, Krist, and it's your fault. You're supposed to be loyal to Singto, Krist. You abandoned Singto at the outing, Krist. If you hate it here so much then just go back to Gawin, then. Don't you feel guilty for ruining Gawin's career, too? He must be good in bed for you to come to his defense like this.

Oh, wait, I did save that one.

Presumably sensing that he had done everything he possibly could, Krist addressed fans one last time on his Instagram Broadcast channel.

Let no one misinterpret this: Krist left social media mainly and specifically because some Peraya were viscerally outraged that Krist didn't cast Gawin aside and spend 100% of his time adhered to Singto. Even though Krist is the one who wanted the comeback, a significant number of Peraya seem to think he's not trying hard enough.

"Not trying hard enough" even though he was so obsessed with getting Peraya Party right that he made himself sick.

This tweet was when he admitted himself for an IV to keep himself healthy, and then he ended up getting admitted anyway for almost a week. During which time he continued working on the concert from his iPad, messaging staff and Singto who continued with rehearsals.

"Not trying hard enough" isn't something Krist knows how to do. He's a self-professed perfectionist who identified so strongly with the character of Anxiety in "Inside Out 2" that he posted about her on his Facebook seven different times. He has an Anxiety plush. He even tweeted about the anxiety attack scene when he visited Beijing for work.

Krist has spoken about his experiences with depression. He moved back home in 2022 to be with his parents at the suggestion of his psychiatrist, the fourth he'd seen.

It's widely known that Krist hates being alone. Singto recently said it's something that concerns him, that Krist has someone or other at his house most of the time because he doesn't want to be on his own. Just last year Krist said his favorite thing about his four cats is that they're with him always, whereas people eventually have to go their own homes.

Rather than close himself off, however, Krist has remained a phenomenally open and affectionate person. He treats his fans like friends. (The ones who aren't trying to control his life.) He took the time to address fans twice in text and in video.

And yet, as soon as Krist stepped away from the helm of his own narrative, some fans were horrified by the idea that Krist might be mad at them. Others began to twist his words and intentions to suit a more palatable narrative. This wasn't about Gawin, no. He did it for Singto.

And while, yes, Krist did also make it clear that he won't tolerate people trash-talking one of his favorite people, this was about Krist.

It wasn't only about Singto or Gawin. This was Krist facing down fans who have relentlessly demanded more than he could have or even should have ever reasonably done for them.

It's a special kind of horrifying to me that fans are misrepresenting Krist when Krist clearly said as recently as last October that what hurts him most is being misrepresented.

I spoke with some Peraya in DMs about this whole mess.

A few said they have no issue with Gawin, they're only envious of the closeness he has with Krist. They're both musicians and singers, and they're both people-shaped emotions who went through hell together during all the "lol who asked for this pairing" and "ew I'm not watching the homophobe show" nonsense.

Others said Krist is behaving childishly and that he should just ignore everyone.

After all, all of this comes with the territory of being famous. It's normal. He shouldn't overreact. He's taken the wife role. He should be cute and soft and sweet at all times.

When I posted my thread about this, some were underwhelmed by the informational tone and had hoped it would be more of a call-out. Thing is, I'd already criticized that portion of the Peraya fandom:

It's frankly beyond my comprehension how Krist has made it this far as stable and as kind as he is. He was bashed by homophobes for starring in SOTUS in 2016, then stalked at his university by fans who disapproved of him having a girlfriend since he belonged to Singto, harassed about his sexuality until he snapped, vilified by international fans who showed up late to the party in 2020 and made everything a thousand times worse by not bothering to fact-check anything they were seeing, tormented off social media, put through four different psychiatrists, lost the partner he'd been through all of this with, found a new one, lost him, and gained his original partner back only for fans to demand more from him.

And the thing is, I don't want to say all of this on Twitter because it's becoming more and more of a noxious hellscape with every passing day, and the people who need to embrace this aren't going to read it. But I did want to say it somewhere.

Watching Lindsay's video, I felt such a bolt of fear. He's just been pushed so far, and fame isn't what destroys: it's people.

So I'm so proud of him for handling this with composure and strength. I'm proud of him for keeping the promise he made to Gawin in October last year at his solo concert, that nothing would change between them.

One of my Gawin fan friends said it best: Krist was the first person to see Gawin's potential and then show the world. He featured Gawin in his own solo concert, he mentored him through promotion, he opened up to Gawin about his life and his thoughts. He would never cast Gawin aside, and the fact that people are still trying to hand-wave how important Gawin is to him is maddening.

He loves Singto. He also loves Gawin. One doesn't cheapen the other. He loves a lot of people. That's who Krist is.

The idea that Krist should be cute and demure and ignore constant harassment he can't avoid because he needs to use social media for work is so unimaginably cruel I can't fathom how it could even transform from an idea to a real belief. Whether you like it or not, he's standing up for himself now.

Being famous eases some things and barbs others. You'll get free stuff and fans who admire you, but you may also get a deterioration of your mental health and fans who feel entitled to your body, soul, and mind.

You tell 'em, sweetie.

#krist perawat #gawin caskey #singto prachaya #kristsingto #gawinkrist #okay time to sleep for a hundred million years

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pinacoladamatata · 3 months

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I am once again thinking about Solas and how his potential arc this game could go regarding the Veil being up or down and I'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure [spoilers obviously] I don't like being intelligent/thoughtful on here I prefer to be stupid but here we go

In [yet another] article that came out, idk? today? Mark Darrah says the story "allows us to, hopefully, give a good conclusion to all the varied attitudes toward Solas that are going to be coming from people who love Solas, who agree with Solas, who hate Solas, people who want to kick Solas off of a building – I think that we give you the opportunity to bring that to a close, but then tell a greater story about The Veilguard and about the world as a whole."

and I don't know what to fucking think about this? They obviously know people's opinions are varied and I think it should be obvious that this is not a case where 'one ending fits all'

Because like, he is such a tragic character and I know there's gonna be an option to kill him, calm down, before you start in my inbox with "I WANT TO KILL HIM" like, you will be able to, that's kind of...almost a certainty. Especially for low approval Inquisitor/swore to stop him at all costs. Because if he Won't agree to stop trying to tear down the veil and causing mass destruction, (even after dealing with Elgarnan and Ghilly) then you'll have to kill him. Even trapping him forever isn't really an option because he created the fucking veil, man's crafty, he'd eventually find a way out. Like, If he will not and cannot see reason, then you, the protagonist, will have to end him.

It's the OTHER option that has me spinning because, you could, maybe, potentially, hopefully, talk him out of it. And if you did that, either as a romanced or friendly Inquisitor, or apparenty? Rook? based on this new info that Solas and Rook are going to have a lot of interaction, then he doesn't NEED to die. If he stops wanting to tear down the veil, he could potentially just disappear and do whatever he wants, like nerd out over magic.

And honestly, having him die on both paths is such a slap in the face for "your choices matter" because like clearly they do not if that happens; like what was the point of making me choose at the end of trespasser? If the only difference is 'stop Solas at all costs' leads to a boss fight where you kill him and 'redeem Solas' leads to ? him dying anyway somehow? Like I'm sorry but that is lazy and boring. His redemption should not end in death, he should have to live and deal with the consequences, because that could be so much more interesting.

[because I'll be real, I don't think they're going to let us have the option to tear down the veil/side with him AND have the option to keep the veil up. I think it will be one or the other no matter your choices; Simply because there is too much of a massive difference between world states of 'killed Solas to prevent him taking down the veil Thedas remains status quo' VS 'let Solas take down the veil, Thedas is now fundamentally different in an almost inconceivable way'. Like the setting for any future games depend on this; you would have to create 2 very different games. There has to be some uniformness to the world state, like; the veil remains, but it's thinned or whatever and the people of Thedas are living life more or less as usual if they ever want to make DA5. Would be wild of them do go the route of no matter what you do the veil comes down anyway. Which would be annoying if you swore to stop Solas at all costs and he just... succeeds anyway, even if he dies? Of course, there is Sandals prophecy, which I think is about the events of DA4. And devs have said in the past they had 'something' planned since Origins. "One day the magic will come back - all of it. Everyone will be just like they were" - The veil coming down and everyone gaining magic? Not just elves but humans, dwarves and qunari too? "The shadows will part and the skies will open wide" - Talking about the veil coming down?? Do shadows represent the abyss? "When he rises, everyone will see" - I'm actually convinced this is about Elgar'nan, or, something even worse; like the 'thing' that Mythal locked away, that the "evanuris in their greed could unleash" that "would destroy us all". So I think the end of DA:TV will be either the veil stays in place no matter what, or the veil comes down no matter what, which is, idk, interesting? Because again, they can't have both- that just gets too messy for the setting for the next game. They could have the veil come down no matter what, but, you would need to have a "better option" as Varric and Solas put it. Which, let's say for narrative purposes, this option exists and we tell it to Solas and he goes "Okay let's do that instead" and it results in a world state where the veil is 'down' but not in a catastrophic mega-calamity way. Even then though, some players are just not going to pick that and also if the veil comes down; what the fuck are we guarding it for???? I think it might come down temporarily. Maybe we have to make a new one? a better one? we have our fade tamagotchi fen'harel who happens to be the only fucker who knows how to make a veil too. Could this 'better veil' alleviate some of the problems Solas had with the old one? If there was like a set door way that allowed people and spirits to pass safely? One that didn't cause so much discord between spirits/people? Is our Veilguard a Fade TSA? I can dream. But who knows. Either way, I think we're only getting one endgame worldstate regarding the veil.

So; OK, back to Solas and how the fuck that could end. Harking back to that Varric/Solas conversation about the old man living alone. Solas is clearly speaking as though he is the old man, and he can't fathom just living a quiet life when there are literal world ending gods waiting for a weak moment to bust free. He Will not, Cannot stand by and do nothing while he knows his prison is failing. He HAS to at least deal with the 2 evanuris before tearing down the veil bc he doesn't want them to cause harm. He didn't want that before (hence locking them away) and he doesn't want it now, even for modern day Thedas (hence him helping Rook). He's got such a fucking heart under all that armor. He cares about people, he demonstrates it again and again. But my god what if, he finally *sees* that the veil may not have been a mistake, it doesn't need to be torn down, (maybe it has to be remade, better?or just altered?) and then us the protag, no longer has to kill him to stop him from tearing it down?

Like, I am very partial to the "what if love changes everything" trope especially for such a tragic character. Bc he's got death flags left and right; "I walk the dinanshiral" "there is only death on this journey" "this does not end in my downfall" his "dying alone" fear tombstone, and he's lonely he's miserable he's afraid. I'm so worried they'll kill him off anyway bc 'he was always doomed' trope and it would be easier to write, but motherfuck it would just, be SO so satisfying if, instead, there was a path where he wasn't doomed; whether it's bc of Rook or the Inquisitor or a combo of both. I feel like what if, either platonic or romantic; if there was just at least one path where love changes everything.

ofc this is massive amounts of copium and I don't expect bioware to give me anything so cool as "the veil starts to come down anyway and you, Rook, have to rebuild it with Solas' and the Inquisitor's help and at the end you can either kill him or convince him that this world is worth living in"

but hey, i can dream ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#dragon age #dragon age spoilers #da4 spoilers #da4 speculation #solas #like dont open unless you want a fuck ton of my ramblings on what could happen #when will i shut up about this??? probably not even after the game is out #and depending on what happens in the story i will either be elated or really fucking disappointed

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insert-very-generic-name · 3 months

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after everything...

thorin x reader fanfic

word count: no idea mate

The air hung heavy with the scent of sweat, blood and victory. The last embers of Smaug’s destruction flickered on the horizon, casting an orange glow across the weary faces of the remaining Dwarves. Relief, tinged with the sorrow of lost kin, settled over Erebor like a shroud. Yet, amidst the chaos, a flicker of joy sparked between you and Thorin. Exhausted but exhilarated, you found yourselves drawn to a secluded corner of the reclaimed halls. Dust motes danced in the fading light, illuminating the resolute set of Thorin’s jaw and the glint of triumph in his steely blue eyes.

“We did it,” you breathed, the words catching in your throat.

The weight of the past weeks, the battles, the desperate scramble for survival, all pressed down on you. But here, in the shadow of Erebor, a fragile sense of peace settled in.

Thorin turned to you, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Despite the grime etched on his face and the weariness in his every breath, there was a spark of pride in his gaze. He reached out, his calloused fingers brushing against yours, sending a jolt of warmth through you.

“Aye, we did,” he rumbled, his voice thick with emotion. “Thanks to you, amongst many others.” His thumb brushed over the knuckles of your hand, a silent acknowledgment of your bravery.

You squeezed his hand back, a wry smile playing on your lips. “Don’t downplay your role, King Thorin. Without your stubborn determination, we’d all still be lizard snacks.”

A genuine laugh escaped him, a rich sound that seemed to echo in the cavernous hall. It was a rare sound, a glimpse of the Thorin you’d known before the dragon’s madness had taken hold. The sound warmed you from the inside out. The moment stretched between you, a silent understanding passing between tired eyes. The future of Erebor stretched before you, a vast and uncertain landscape. Yet, in that shared look, a promise bloomed – a promise to face the challenges together, to rebuild a kingdom and a life.

“There’s much to be done,” Thorin finally said, his voice regaining its usual gruffness. “But for tonight,” he paused, his gaze lingering on your face, “let us celebrate what we have achieved.”

A blush crept up your neck. The unspoken words hung heavy in the air – a celebration that extended far beyond the reclaimed halls. A honeymoon, a stolen moment of normalcy amidst the chaos. You met his gaze, a silent acceptance passing between you. The weight of the coming tasks could wait.

A hesitant smile bloomed on your face. "Lead the way, Your Majesty," you teased, a playful glint in your eyes. "Although, I wouldn't mind a bath first. This grime is practically a second skin."

Thorin's gruff laugh echoed through the hall. "Aye, that can be arranged. There are still some functioning baths in the royal quarters, though they may not be as luxurious as you're accustomed to."

The mention of your old life sent a pang of nostalgia through you, quickly replaced by a surge of excitement. Luxury could wait. The thought of soaking away the aches of battle and the grime of the journey in the company of Thorin was far more appealing.

"A bath fit for a king and his…" you trailed off, searching for a playful word. "His consort?" Thorin supplied, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"His… most capable companion," you winked

An unfamiliar warmth bloomed in your chest as the corner of his mouth curled into a genuine smile. He gestured towards a side passage. "Follow me then, my beloved capable companion. A bath and a meal await."

The walk to the royal quarters was filled with a comfortable silence. Despite the exhaustion clinging to you both, a shared sense of anticipation crackled in the air. This stolen moment, this glimpse of normalcy, felt precious after the tumultuous journey. The bath chamber was surprisingly well-maintained, a testament to the dwarven love for craftsmanship. Thorin excused himself briefly, returning with a steaming pitcher of water and a handful of fragrant herbs. His gaze swept over you, a flicker of something warm passing through his eyes before he quickly looked away.

"Here," he said gruffly, handing you the pitcher. "I cannot… well, I wouldn't want to intrude."

You couldn't help but smile. "Nonsense," you teased. "Surely a king can offer his consort some assistance?"

Thorin hesitated, then a hint of a smile played on his lips. The following hours were a blur of warm water, soothing herbs, and stolen glances. The tension of the past weeks seemed to melt away in the soothing embrace of the bath. When you finally emerged, wrapped in a soft linen robe, Thorin was waiting by the fire, a simple meal laid out on a nearby table. The flickering flames danced in his eyes, painting them with a warmth you hadn't witnessed in a long while.

"You look… radiant," he said, his voice rough with unspoken emotions. The heat from the fire seemed to rise, warming your cheeks as much as his words did. For a moment, all thoughts of the future, the daunting task of rebuilding a kingdom, faded away. All that remained was the warmth of the fire, the comfort of his presence, and the dawning realization that even amidst the chaos, a love had bloomed, strong and resilient.

You lowered your gaze, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Is that kingly behavior, Thorin Oakenshield? Catching a lady off guard with compliments?"

He cleared his throat, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes despite his attempt at stoicism. "Perhaps not. But the truth is the truth."

The air crackled with a delicious tension. You sank down onto a plush cushion near the fire, beckoning him closer with a tilt of your head. "Then tell me more truths, Your Majesty. Tell me what you see when you look at me."

Thorin met your gaze, his blue eyes searching yours. The flickering firelight played across his face, highlighting the lines etched by hardship yet softening the edges of his normally stoic expression.

"I see courage," he began, his voice low and rumbling. "A fierceness that rivals any dwarf I've known. You stood beside us, faced danger without flinching, and never once faltered."

A warmth bloomed in your chest. It was one thing to hear praise in the heat of battle, another entirely to hear such words from Thorin in this intimate setting.

"And more?" you pressed gently, unable to resist the urge to tease him further.

He hesitated, then a blush crept up his neck, a rare sight that sent a jolt of surprise through you. "And…" he began, his voice dropping to a whisper, "I see… a beauty that rivals the Arkenstone itself."

The playful smile vanished from your face, replaced by a warmth that threatened to consume you. For a king who valued practicality above all else, his words held a surprising depth of emotion. The vulnerability he displayed, the way his gaze lingered on you, sent a shiver down your spine.

Before you could respond, he cleared his throat, breaking the spell. "But enough of such talk," he said gruffly, gesturing towards the table. "Let us eat. Tomorrow, the real work begins."

A touch of regret tinged your heart. You knew he was right, of course. Rebuilding Erebor wouldn't wait forever. Yet, the intimacy of the moment, the raw emotions you'd glimpsed beneath his gruff exterior, made you yearn to hold onto it a little longer.

Taking a deep breath, you rose and moved towards the table. "Indeed," you agreed, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. "Tomorrow, we face the future. But tonight… tonight, we celebrate."

As you shared the simple meal, a comfortable silence fell between you. The weight of the unspoken hung heavy in the air, a promise of a future built on shared battles and blooming affection. Tonight, with the flickering firelight painting warm hues on his face, you saw not just the King Under the Mountain, but the man beneath the crown. And the man you saw, the man who spoke of courage and beauty in hushed tones, filled your heart with a newfound certainty – your honeymoon wouldn't be just a stolen moment, but the beginning of a love as strong as the mountain itself.

#thorin oakenshield #the hobbit headcanons #the hobbit #thorin x reader #botfa #happy ending #x reader #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit x y/n #the hobbit fanfiction

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ladykissingfish · 1 month

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*Hidan and Kakuzu out walking in a snowy forest*

Kakuzu: This is ridiculous. It’s freezing out here, and the snow is coming down so hard I can barely read this map! Are you positive Pein said we had to take this mission today??

Hidan: I’m sure, old fuck. Keep your pants on … *takes the map and squints at it* See? *points* We’re here, and our rendezvous spot is just half a mile ahead. So quit your bitchin’ and get a move on.

*Kakuzu quietly grumbles to himself as he pulls his cloak tighter around him and follows Hidan’s lead up the path*

Hidan: Ah — there it is!

Kakuzu: That place? I know that place; it’s a fairly expensive hotel. The client we’re meeting must be loaded, eh?

Hidan: Everything's always money with you, ain’t it? Greedy bastard …

*the two go into the hotel and shake themselves off in the doorway before stepping inside*

Kakuzu: Okay; now where is the guy we’re supposed to —

*Hidan walks away from him and up to the front desk*

Hidan: Reservation under “Jashin” for the deluxe suite, please.

*the hotel clerk hands him a key and Hidan walks back to to a confused Kakuzu*

Kakuzu: … Reservation? Brat, what —

Hidan: I booked this a whole week ago, ‘Kuzu. Surprise! *takes his hand and pulls him towards the staircase* I checked it out beforehand; our room has got a gigantic bed and a bathtub as big as a swimming pool and —

Kakuzu: Wait, wait; I’m confused. What about the mission?

Hidan: You dumbass; I lied, there ain’t no mission. Well, except one: make Kakuzu’s birthday a great one!

Kakuzu: Birthday? It’s not my — *pauses to look at a calendar hanging on a wall* Well, shit …

Hidan: Ha! Finally managed to get your ass!

Kakuzu: But … this place is pricey, isn’t it? How did —

Hidan: I talked red-eyes into using that sharingan of his to help me win big in a gambling den. Hey, are ya hungry? I made sure this place had that gross liver ya love so much, and —

Kakuzu: *pushes Hidan against the wall and kisses him* There’s only one thing I want to devour tonight, and I’m looking at him. *takes his hand* Lead the way.

Hidan, blushing: D-damn … okay, let’s go. Boy, at first I thought it was a mistake to take all that money from your secret stash to go play cards on, but now I —

Kakuzu: Wait … what?

Hidan: I … er … h-hey, did I mention this place has free massages and palm readings and —

Kakuzu: Palm readings, eh? To tell the future? Well I know what MY future is going to look like … but it remains to be seen what yours holds, my dear money-stealing brat. *kisses Hidan’s knuckles* Now, lead the way. While you can still walk.

Hidan:

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY KAKUZU!!!#kakuhida #kakuzu x hidan #kakuzu #hidan #naruto #the akatsuki #tw suggestive

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emilystheories · 10 months

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Breaking SJM news: a completely new series is (likely) on the way !!

Last night, I came across a veryyyy interesting YouTube video posted by Bloomsbury 4 weeks ago. Although the video was mostly super boring (talking numbers and finances), towards the end, we get this little nugget of information...

[Bloomsbury staff member]: "Regarding the timeline and future Sarah J Maas book releases, which are obviously very important to us... so her next title, which is the third in her Crescent City series, comes out on the 30th of January, 2024. So, that will fall into this financial year."

[Bloomsbury staff member]: "And thereafter, we have SIX further contracted titles -- so continuing this series, and STARTING A NEW SERIES AS WELL."

A new series! This likely goes hand-in-hand with the announcement made by Bloomsbury a couple of months prior, in which they stated that 4 additional SJM books were on the way (but curiously, no further details about these books were given...)

Although we don't know for sure, this is my guess as to what these 6 future SJM books are:

2 x ACOTAR books.

Then the 4 remaining, newly contracted books; the first being the final Crescent City book, House of Many Waters.

Leaving 3 x books for the new series (which makes perfect sense, as when starting a new series, SJM is always contracted for 3 books initially).

The question remains as to what exactly this new series may be. Which leads me to... Twilight of the Gods.

[SJM universe spoilers ahead!]

Back in 2015, SJM started a Pinterest board for 2 new book series that were connected in some way; one was Crescent City, and the other was called Twilight of the Gods.

On her Twitter, SJM also mentioned that she had been working on both for quite a while, and that it was soon time to release them into the world.

Around the same time, a series called 'Twilight of the Gods' was mysteriously added to SJM's official Goodreads catalogue.

'Twilight of the Gods' is another term for Ragnarok; a famed tale of Norse mythology where the Gods and giants/demons across all worlds joined together to fight a giant battle that signified the end of the world.

Thus, I believe that 'Twilight of the Gods' is SJM's next series; it will be a Ragnarok retelling, and all of the characters from TOG, ACOTAR and CC will join together for a cataclysmic battle against the Asteri, the Daglan, and the Valg (because lets not forget that Orcus and Mantyx are still unaccounted for...).

With this in mind, consider the numerous references to Norse mythology that SJM has already scattered throughout her books:

Feyre as Freya: Freya was perhaps one of the most renowned Norse goddesses, and was Queen.

Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn as the Valkyries: An obvious one, but the Valkyries originated from, and had a huge part to play in Norse Mythology (Ragnarok especially).

Lucien as Loki: According to Norse mythology, Loki is often depicted with long, red hair. He is also seen as a God of fire, and is commonly associated with foxes.

Danika (Fendyr) and Fenrys as Fenrir: Fenrir was a renowned monstrous wolf of Norse mythology. Fenrir being 'unleashed' is one of the key events of Ragnarok.

Hunt as Thor ('Thurr'): During Ragnarok, Thor has a famous battle against the 'Midgard Serpent.' Consider the snake that Hunt is holding on the cover of HOSAB.

Midgard: is the 'Earth' world in Norse mythology.

Hel (spelt the same way): Is the 'underworld' of Norse mythology.

Further, if you looked at SJM's "Twilight of the Gods" Pinterest board - before it was deleted - you'd see countless images of (Lady?) Thor, the Valkyries, Sailor Moon, and even the coffin that Maeve locked Aelin in... (that can't be a coincidence, right..?!) Some examples below:

'Twilight' is also another word for 'Dusk'; considering the lost Dusk Court, and 'Dusk's Truth' (both of which are the centre of the upcoming crossover and broader multiversal narrative...) it matches up perfectly.

Thus, I believe that the remaining ACOTAR and CC books will continue to add to the multiverse, bit by bit. And whilst they can still be read in a standalone fashion, my guess is that they will build up to a grand finale (perhaps the very last ACOTAR book will end with Aelin walking through a portal...?) and then Twilight of the Gods will begin.

If you thought Kingdom of Ash was epic... then Twilight of the Gods -- if correct -- is bound to blow us away (and, it might even put SJM's name in the history books).

#sjm multiverse #acotar #crescent city #sjm theory #sjm crossover #bryce quinlan #aelin galythinius #rhysand #feyre #gwyneth berdara #nesta archeron #elain archeron #azriel acotar #cassian acotar

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typicalopposite · 2 months

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zombie AU 🫣

because @blue-arts-stuff made this little gem right here (go give it all the love because *chefs kiss* the angst was angsting there) and it wormed its way into my brain and would not leave me alone until I made this!

CHECK THE TAGS FOR TRIGGER I BEG YOU!

Buck is tired. Physically, mentally, emotionally… just so goddamn tired.

A storm is coming… he can feel it in the plates and screws that hold his leg together. He’d always thought that was a myth, but sure enough every big storm he feels a twinge of pain around them. They should get moving if they are going to make it before the rain starts.

He scrumages through what supplies are available in the remains of the little corner shop. He only takes what he truly needs—which isn’t much—and leaves all that he can for whoever passes through next. Outside he can hear distant thunder, he needs to hurry. He unzips his bag and stuffs the supplies inside, catching a glimpse of the picture frame; he takes it out.

Their wedding day.

The smell of the ocean in the background, the sound of the cheers from their family as they vowed to have and to hold each other through it all… the sight of Tommy dressed in his tux, so handsome, so in love, so happy.

They were so happy… for a while. They didn’t get nearly enough time before the outbreak.

Then it was long days, and longer nights of fighting to stay alive; fighting to keep everyone they cared about alive. So in vain, and slowly they watched as their family dwindled down until there were just a handful of them left.

It was supposed to be a simple night run. They needed water. They needed more medicine. The store was so close… but not close enough. The attack was brutal. More lives lost.

Tommy got bit.

“Ev- Evan, baby… listen to me,” he tried, as Buck panickedly tried to clean out the wound.

“No. I can— I can fix this… just let me think.”

“Evan.”

“We— We’ll cut off your arm,” he suggests. “It’s worked before…”

“It’s already spreading, baby. Look…” Tommy pulls up the bloody sleeve revealing the bluish green streaks running towards his neck and chest. “It’s too late… you have to.”

“No.”

“Baby, we promised each other—” Tommy begged, tears falling from his eyes, the infection visibly creeping up his neck. Buck frantically shook his head, tuning out Tommy’s cries. “Evan!” He gasped. “Shoot me! Please!”

“No! I can’t!”

***

Buck wipes his eyes and slides the frame back into the bag. He slowly rises to his feet and slowly makes his way over to the bathroom and pushes the door open. Loud snarling, grunting and gurgling—that would normally send him into fight or flight mode—comes out of the darkness. He shines his flashlight into the room, stepping inside and unclipping the chain from one of the stalls. “Come on, sweetheart… we’re almost there.”

They walk through the empty streets of what used to be LA; Buck leading Tommy (wrapped safely in a makeshift straight jacket, and wearing a muzzle) by the thick chain. The latter stumbles and growls, his head snapping this way and that, teeth chattering as he does his best to chomp at anything past the muzzle. They make it home just as the rain starts to fall.

Buck steps inside the door, pulls Tommy through as well, and looks around at what’s left of their destroyed house—some of the mess they had made themselves in the panic to flee the infected city, some done after by people looking for shelter and supplies. He walks through the rooms, remembering the days they were filled with happy memories and life; the promise of a bright future. They were going to grow old in this house… live out the rest of their lives in this house.

At least one of those was correct.

He sighs, and leads Tommy up to the bedroom, securing him on the solid, sturdy, bedpost of their king size bed. He opens the bag, takes out the frame and sets it up on the bedside table. He takes out what he got from the little corner shop—a gun shop— and grits his teeth as he lifts his shirt, revealing the bite mark he’s been tirelessly trying to keep from spreading… until now.

“Buck you have to let him go,” they had tried to tell him. “It’s not even— he wouldn’t want this… to live like this… for you to live like this…”

He has lost so many people, the ones he didn’t lose to the virus, he lost for his impulsive, borderline insane decision. He’s been alone for a while… but at least he still had Tommy, in some way.

Buck fights just to take in another breath, and puts a bullet into the gun. Tommy grunts and struggles against his restraints. “Almost ready,” Buck says. He is tired… but he won’t be for long. He walks over to Tommy and unhooks the chain from the bed. He looks into those glossed over eyes, gray and distant and thinks about when they were blue and bright and happy. They were happy once. Maybe they will be happy again in the next life.

He slips a key in the restraints lock, swiftly turning it and releasing Tommy, He quickly pulls him into a hug, Tommy grabbing him back, turning his head into Buck’s neck and biting down. Buck pressing his head tight against Tommy’s. “I love you,” he says, and closes his eyes.

The cool barrel against his cheek turns into a cool breeze and the salty smell of the ocean fills the air. Buck opens his eyes and is met with a beautiful sunset, a crowded beach… and Tommy, smiling at him. He blinks a few times to see if it’s all just going to disappear…

“Hey baby, I’ve been waiting for you,” Tommy says, holding out his hand, the remnant of sunlight catching on his wedding band. Buck stares at Tommy for a moment, just taking in the sight. He smiles and takes his hand, and they join their family out by the water.

It’s years later before the Buckley-Kinard house is visited again.

Years since they were sent away to a safe haven while their parents fought off hoard after hoard, until the virus had runs its course. Those lost souls that weren’t instantly killed from the virus, or the battalion sent out to fight off the undead the virus created, eventually just rotted away until they were no longer a threat.

“Hey Chris!” Jee calls from a bedroom. “I found something!” He stops poking around with one of his canes, rummaging for anything left to salvage from the house he spent many days of his youth, and goes to see what she found. In the back bedroom, laid out across the mattress of a tattered king sized bed, are two skeletons clinging to each other.

“Do you think it’s them?” Jee asks.

Chris steps closer, inspects the bodies; most notably their hands, and the matching bands they both are wearing. He looks up at the faded picture still sitting on the bedside table and smiles, a tear slipping from his eye. “Yeah… it’s them.”

#911 abc #bucktommy #zombie au #based on fanart #It was just too good not to stop what I was doing and write #evan buckley #tommy kinard #118 firefam #yall it made me do MCD… this fandom has me rewired!#mcd #But like not too sad kinda…#Ok it is #tw mcd #tw death #tw sui implied

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agirlwithdemonblood · 3 months

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Through The Shadows: Chapter 1 - Unexpected Backup

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader

Series Summary: A hunter's Journey through despair and recovery is guided by Dean Winchester's unwavering love, leading her to reclaim her strength, voice and hope for their shared future.

Chapter Summary: Dean and Y/N never got along, but after a close call he starts to give her the benefit of the doubt.

Series Masterlist here!! & Main masterlist here!

Dean Winchester slammed the trunk of the Impala shut, muttering under his breath. The hunt was turning out to be more complicated than he and Sam anticipated. The ghost was aggressive, elusive and there had been more injuries than clues. They needed backup. Unfortunately, the backup Sam had in mind wasn't exactly Dean's favourite.

"Dean we need her." Sam stated, his voice firm as he leaned against the car. "She's experienced with these kind of cases. Her research skills are unmatched and you know this."

Dean grimiced, looking off into the distance. "Sam you know she and I don't exactly see eye to eye, I don't get why you're so insistent on this."

"Maybe because she's the best at what she does?" Sam rasied an eyebrow, "And she's my friend. She can help us. And you might try not to be so.... Dean."

Dean stared back at Sam offended before his eyes rolled and he grumbled underneath his breath. "Fine. Call her. But don't expect me to play nice."

"I never do." Sam sighed as he pulled out his phone.

Y/N arrived at the old warehouse, parking her car beside the Impala. Her heart pounded with anxiety, her fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on the steering wheel. She had known Sam for years; they were close, sharing countless laughs and late-night research sessions over the phone.

But Dean... Dean was different. His sharp eyes and gruff demeanor always made her feel on edge. She often caught him glaring, and his short responses only heightened her anxiety. She couldn't help but constantly feel like a disappointment in his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped out and walked towards the brothers. Sam greeted her with a wide grin and a hug. "Thanks for coming Y/N. We really appreciate it."

"Of course." She said softly, her eyes darting to Dean. He gave her a curt nod, his expression unreadable.

"We've got a restless spirit." Dean explained, his tone short and blunt. "Likes to stab first, ask questions never. Thought you might have some insights on handling this."

Y/N nodded, trying to focus on the case rather than Dean's intimidating presence. "Let's start with the records. There might be something in the history of this place that we missed."

The three of them spent the next few hours combing through old documents and piecing together the ghost's backstory. Y/N found herself slipping into her comfort zone, sharing her findings with Sam, who encouraged her with his usual supportive demeanour. Dean however, remained distant, his eyes flickering to her occasionally, as if trying to read her.

As night fell, the team prepared for the confrontation. The ghost had appeared several times at the warehouse, and they planned to force it into the open. Tension hung in the air as they spread out, each armed with weapons and salt.

Suddenly, the ghost appeared, a menacing figure with a twisted blade. Dean charged forward, aiming to banish it, but the ghost was faster. It lunged towards him, knife shining in the moonlight.

"Dean, look out!" Y/N screamed, running towards him as fast as she could. She pushed him down to the ground just in time, but the ghost's blade sliced across her arm leaving a nasty gash.

Sam fired a round of salt at the ghost, repelling it temporarily. Dean quickly scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide with shock and concern. "Y/N, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." she panted as she clutched her bleeding arm. "Just get rid of that thing!"

With a new found determination, the brothers managed to corner the ghost and kill it for good. The air was filled with the smell of burning ectoplasm, and silence settled over the warehouse.

Dean turned to Y/N, his gaze softening as he was the blood seeping through her sleeve. "You saved me." He said quietly, his usual gruffness replaced by a rare vulnerability.

Y/N shrugged, wincing slightly. "Just doing my job, Dean. Somebody has to keep you guys out of trouble."

Sam grinned as he clapped Dean on the shoulder, "She's got a point!"

As they cleaned up and prepared to leave, Dean approached Y/N, his expression uncharacteristically serious. "Listen, you should stay with us at the bunker. At least until your healed."

Y/N hesitated, glancing between Dean and Sam. "I... I don't want to be a burden."

"You aren't." Sam assured her. "We'd we want you there, right Dean?"

Dean nodded, his gaze fixed on her. "Yeah, we'd like you to stay."

She took a deep breath, finally nodding in agreement. "Okay, but I have one rule, Dean."

"What's that?" He asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Don't fall in love with me." She said half joking, half serious.

Dean rolled his eyes and scoffed, "You wish."

Sam laughed and even Y/N managed a small smile despite the pain. As they headed back to the cars, she couldn't shake the feeling that things were about to get a lot more complicated.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Chapter 2 coming soon stay tuned!

Like, comment, and reblog, feedback is my fuel 💕

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean x reader #supernatural one shot #dean #deanwinchester #deanxreader #spn

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pascaloverx · 11 days

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BORN TO DIE

Summary: In a tense political setting, a Targaryen bastard working as a prostitute is summoned by Prince Aemond to the Red Keep. Aemond wants her to approach his dragon, Vhagar, as a test of her worth. Although he plans for her to claim another dragon in the future, her immediate challenge is to survive Prince Aemond demands while trying to stay alive.

Author’s Note: This work is set in the world created by George R.R. Martin, as depicted in his book Fire & Blood, and none of the characters belong to me. The story will follow some events from the series House of the Dragon (2022), but with changes to fit the fanfiction narrative. Therefore, it will not adhere strictly to the series' storyline. This fanfiction is a work of fiction and may contain inappropriate language, adult content, and violence. Readers be warned. I hope you enjoy the story and interact with it. I apologize if there are any errors in the High Valyrian sections; I used a translator and am unsure of its accuracy. Thank you and happy reading.

Warning: This chapter will contain violence, as well as inappropriate language and adult sexual content. Minors should not read or interact with this chapter or this fanfic.

TWO FOUR (+18)

THREE (+18)

The horse continues its steady trot, the rhythmic sound of hooves filling the silence between you and Prince Aemond. Since you had declared that only he or a dragon could take your life, neither of you had spoken. The images of the ragged commoners still haunt your mind, the blood of one of them staining your skin. The scent lingers, almost as though it corrodes your very soul—if there is any soul left to corrode. Aemond, in contrast, remains unnervingly calm, as if such violence is second nature to him.

"When I was younger, my mother taught me to always adapt. Kings and princes like you were not born to be contradicted by people like me. My mother was a woman who adapted well, and that is how I was conceived. The man who fathered me sought a replacement for his dead wife, and my mother shaped herself to meet his desires." You can sense that your words mean little to Aemond Targaryen, yet for a fleeting moment, you feel compelled to share them. Perhaps it is the honesty, or perhaps the looming realization that this might be your final journey—the last stretch before the war claims you. It has never been clearer that your end is near, whether by the hand of a one-eyed prince or the flames of a dragon. The manner of death is inconsequential now; it is merely a matter of time.

"My silence must have been misunderstood by you, gundjabo. I have no need to hear your lamentations." The prince’s low voice carries a hint of irritation as he lets out a frustrated grunt. You exhale sharply, frustration building within you. There is something dreadful about being condemned to a war that is not your own, dragged along by a man indifferent to your very existence—one who does not even deign to bed you.

"Unless you plan to kill me for speaking, I shall continue. These may very well be my final words, for all I know," you say, your tone steady but defiant. "As I was saying, I always knew my fate would lead me to the brothel, as a whore. But when the man who fathered me came to weep over his legitimate children, I discovered I was a bastard of someone of importance. And that I had a sibling who bore a resemblance to me. That is why I speak High Valyrian, for I was meant to be the perfect replacement for someone’s trueborn daughter. Tell me, Your Highness, how did you know I was a bastard?"

Your boldness stems from a desire to have your story heard, to have someone in this world know the truth of your existence. And you are certain Aemond will not kill you—not before delivering you to the dragon.

"What gave you the notion that I would be inclined to engage in conversation with you? Know your place, Y/N," Aemond snaps, turning toward you with a sudden, fierce movement, as if poised to strike. His single eye fixes on you, sharp and unwavering, and there’s a dark satisfaction in the way he watches your reaction. He seems to revel in the way his abruptness unsettles you, savoring the fear or hesitation he provokes.

"What led you to believe that I would be disposed to engage in conversation with you? Understand your position, Y/N." Príncipe Aemond pivots abruptly to face you, his single eye piercingly fixed upon your countenance. His demeanor is one of restrained menace, and he appears to take a grim satisfaction in the disquiet he has stirred within you.

The horse comes to an abrupt halt, causing your body to jostle against Prince Aemond Targaryen, who seems increasingly agitated. He dismounts with a brisk movement, signaling the end of your journey by horse. Before you lies a solitary figure, stationed by a boat, standing guard with an air of grim duty.

"My esteemed Prince Aemond, I present to you what you have requested. Should you follow the prescribed route, you shall arrive at the location where it has been reported that your future dragon was sighted. I wish you a successful and prosperous journey." The peculiar man, clearly seeking to flatter the Prince, elicits a noticeable expression of disdain from him.

"Then your presence here is no longer required. I suggest you keep your lips sealed regarding my business here. Additionally, worm, should I fail to find the 'safe' path to the dragon, be aware that you will face a most unfavorable encounter with Vhagar." You are unable to observe their exchange directly, as you are preoccupied with dismounting the horse, given that Aemond appears to be indifferent to your presence at the moment.

"My prince, I would never lead you into an ambush. I wish you a successful journey and hope you acquire the dragon," you finally manage to dismount from the horse, nearly falling onto the ground. The peculiar man watches you with a smile, seemingly amused by your misfortune, while Aemond, though visibly irritated, remains unyielding. His irritation persists even in moments when you are not actively provoking him.

"Rise from the ground at once, gundjabo. If this is your feeble attempt to gain my pity, you are failing. And as for you, Larys, you should have already removed yourself from my sight. Of course, if you hold no regard for your life, you are welcome to remain." Prince Aemond's voice was laced with irritation, the impatience in his tone unmistakable. The peculiar man, now silent, awkwardly retrieves the horse you both arrived on and departs clumsily, leaving you and the prince alone once more.

Yet you remain on the ground, lost in contemplation of your wretched circumstances, bound to the will of Prince Aemond. Your gaze drifts away from him, drawn instead to the waters that flank the path to Dragonstone. The sight of the water, so free and fluid, captivates you. It seems to beckon, offering a silent sanctuary, a world away from your current plight. It had been so long since you had been near the water, and now it appeared almost sacred, a reminder of peace in a life devoid of it. Though you hear Prince Aemond’s voice, it feels distant, as if muffled by the pull of the serene waters. In this brief moment, it is as though you and the water are the only things that exist. You rise, however; not to obey any command but to delight in the water. Slowly, you begin to strip away your clothing, letting the fabric fall carelessly to the ground as the cool wind brushes against your bare skin. A deep sense of freedom, unfamiliar and intoxicating, washes over you. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, you taste the sweetness of liberation, a brief escape from the chains of your fate.

It does not matter that Prince Aemond will see you in such a vulnerable state, nor does it concern you that his inevitable anger will rise once more. His threats of death hold no sway over you in this moment. As the last of your garments slips from your body, you stand, unburdened and untamed, indifferent to the consequences. For now, you are part of the wind, the water, the air—untouchable by any prince or king.

"What do you think you are doing? I did not bring you here to gaze upon your nakedness, nor for any such entanglements," Prince Aemond snaps, his voice sharp as steel, while his hand grips your arm, halting your movement toward the water. His touch, firm yet restrained, feels different for the first time—no longer cold or harsh, but strangely… grounding. Though his grasp is strong, it does not hurt you. You turn your gaze to him, your lips curling into a relaxed, almost defiant smile. The tension between you, once a barrier, now seems to shift subtly, as though something unspoken lingers between the two of you.

"It seems, Your Highness, that you are under the mistaken impression that I have any interest in such entanglements with you," you say, your voice soft yet pointed, as you step closer to him. "If it appears otherwise, you are gravely mistaken. You have made it abundantly clear that you are here as my possessor, not my lover. But the blood on my skin reeks of decay, and if I am to face a fatal destiny by your hand or another, at the very least, grant me the decency of being cleansed for it. I do not believe I am asking for much." Though your tone is measured, almost submissive, your gaze remains sharp, as if daring him to challenge your words. Yet beneath that facade of defiance, there is a clear falsehood—you wouldn't mind if he took you here, on the cold, unforgiving ground. The threatening look in your eyes, too, is a lie; in truth, at this moment, you pose as much danger to the prince as a child would. You know this, and so does he.

"Ao kostagon jikagon, gundjabo," Prince Aemond finally responds, his voice carrying an edge of authority. As he speaks, you offer him a faint, resigned smile. Without another word, you run toward the water. The cold is biting, eliciting a drawn-out gasp as you immerse yourself, but as you cleanse your body with the water, you feel the burdens you have been carrying begin to lift. When you look at Prince Aemond, he is naked; coming towards you. For a moment you can't believe what you're about to witness. Or rather do.

"Your excitement at my presence here is a disgrace to yourself. I have no intention of expanding the bonds of our relationship, gundjabo." Prince Aemond speaks as he steps closer and closer. He certainly wants to dispel any lust that is taking hold of you.

"Tell me, Your Highness, are you so afraid of fucking me?" In moments of the prince's presence, the cold that was taking over your body turned into heat; burning deep within your soul. The prince smiles mischievously as if he liked her question; even if in a diaceous way. Your gaze then shifts to Prince Aemond's member, which appears to be quite erect for a cock that isn't considering entering you.

"If you must know, there has been no fear under me for some time. What I have, is caution. You think I don't notice that your desire for me lies in the need to manipulate me," Aemond approaches you quickly, his hand then roaming over your face, almost as if he was scrutinizing you. "A whore like you must be as thirsty as any other to have the privilege of being taken by me," Prince Aemond stands directly behind you, his cock lightly touching your ass. As his hand moves from a light, affectionate touch to your face and moves downwards, touching your neck with a certain dexterity, in a firm way.

"Dear prince, my intentions towards you are the most pleasurable possible. What risk can a mere prostitute bring you?" What you say comes out of your mouth like a whisper, as half of your concentration has already been lost. Instinctively you turn around, still feeling Aemond's hand on your neck. A drawn-out moan is released by Prince Aemond, who holds your breasts tightly with both hands.

"Say, gundjabo, would you like me to take you here, in the middle of the water? That I would use these hands to fuck you? To satisfy you?" As Prince Aemond aggressively touches your breasts, you let out somewhat scandalous moans. It looks like Aemond's hands are massaging your breasts in a teasing way.

"By your hands, Ñuha Dārilaros; I would accept any fate. Death or pleasure, whatever you decide; it will be to my advantage." You drawl, trying to seduce Aemond. Between your legs, if there was already water before; now everything was wet. Your pussy is ready to receive Prince Aemond's cock. And then abruptly, he grabs your ass firmly, pulling you towards him. Almost like climbing a mountain, you climb up Aemond, wrapping your legs around his waist. Once you secure yourself around Aemond, It's like your pussy is throbbing just from feeling his cock pressed lightly beneath it. In a desperate act, you pull Prince Aemond's face to yours, kissing him. A thirsty kiss, as if there was an uncontrollable thirst within you and only Aemond Targaryen's lips could quench it. At first he seems apprehensive, controlling his tongue so as not to lose his rational side even in a simple kiss, but as soon as you press a little on his cock, which is already hard, he gives himself over to the kiss; body and soul. The prince's long fingers firmly gripping the top of your ass, creating a pleasant friction between your body and his. And just as it seems like he's finally going to give himself to you, he pulls away from your lips and drops you into the water.

“Certain privileges must be earned before they are received so impulsively, gundjabo. Tame the dragon we are about to seek, prove yourself indispensable to your King, and you will gain some worth in my eyes. Until then, savor this moment. There may not be another opportunity for you to experience such freedom again in the future.” Prince Aemond speaks as he holds your face up after you finally manage to catch your breath from being thrown into the water. You are seething with anger inside—frustrated by the way the one-eyed prince has treated you, by the inability to grasp the full magnitude of his presence, and by your own intense yearning for him that has made you lose all sense of absurdity.

In silence, the prince exits the water, gathering his garments from the ground and donning them once more. You watch him attentively, struggling to suppress the anger that is consuming you. Fortunately, as the desire ebbs away, your good sense returns. With a sense of urgency, you leave the water and dress yourself. No words are exchanged between you and Prince Aemond during the journey to the boat, nor during the voyage to Dragonstone.

Certainly, you had to be discreet, feigning the role of commoners while you followed Prince Aemond to the location where he hoped to find his potential dragon. The journey took hours, leading you to a nearly forgotten place amidst a quiet fishing village. Against the prince's will but driven by strategy, you had to repeatedly obstruct the view of curious onlookers who tried to recognize Aemond. Through a bit of your own charm, you managed to divert their attention, effectively becoming his shield. In the tempestuous atmosphere, you finally come upon the dragon. It is enormous, with black scales that blend into the shadows. Its eyes are closed, indicating it is resting.

“Your Highness, I cannot... Find another bastard,” you say upon seeing the dragon so close. The fear of death outweighs any sense of duty at that moment. You step back, trying to distance yourself, but Prince Aemond grips your arm with a harshness. This time, he pulls you close with aggression.

"Swallow your cowardice, go over there, and claim that dragon. And if this seems like a request to you, know that it is an order, and should you disobey, you will die by my sword, gundjabo." Prince Aemond threatens, looking at you with impatience. His menacing tone frightens you somewhat, but as a final act of bravery, you grab the dagger from the Prince’s waist and point it at him.

"Your Highness, regrettably, I must clarify that I have no intention of obeying you. Let me go, and I assure you, you shall never hear of me again," you say, your voice trembling somewhat, though not from cowardice. The thought of death, at this moment, feels unsatisfactory to you.

"Go to that damned dragon and claim it for yourself, or you will die here. There is no other option, gundjabo. My patience is wearing thin, so drop this dagger and go now!" Prince Aemond bellows with all his might, his demeanor fierce and ready to strangle you if necessary. As you remain indecisive, contemplating your options, Prince Aemond suddenly throws himself at you, causing both of you to tumble to the ground. He grips your neck tightly, while you still hold the dagger against him, the weapon trembling in your hand.

"Your Highness, you are squeezing my neck...with a certain unnecessary firmness." You speak between attempts to catch your breath as the air escapes you. Aemond's blank stare tells you he might kill you. So while you still have strength, you hold the sharp dagger against the neck of Aemond Targaryen, who is lying on top of yours. He only seems to notice that he is hurting you more than necessary when you cut him, more specifically cut a small but significant part of his neck. And then his hands lose their grip on your neck and his attention seems to be elsewhere. It could be that the pain from the cut is bothering him, or the fact that he is bleeding and the blood is dripping down your face. The taste of Aemond's blood is surprisingly sweet, but you worry that you've seriously injured him.Then you drop the dagger you were holding and look worriedly at Prince Aemond. He removes his hands from your neck and slowly holds both of your hands at the height of your head.

“Do you feel powerful for having managed to make me bleed, gundjabo?” Prince Aemond’s words are laced with a cruel edge, as if your injury to him has only heightened his thrill. The dangerous proximity of your faces is palpable. However, before you can respond, the dragon stirs and awakens. You both quickly disentangle as you hear the dragon's roar, followed by a burst of fire that sends a shiver down your spine. It may seem like madness, but you could swear the fire that it spewed was green, an unusual color for dragon flames. The dragon's eyes are also green. It appears to be the most magnificent dragon you have ever seen.

"What should I do, Your Highness?" you ask desperately as you feel the hot breath of the dragon's nostrils blowing over you and Aemond. You recall the commands for summoning dragons that your father taught you, but without knowing the dragon's name, it will be impossible to call it.

"Command him, tell him to calm down; if he obeys you, he will be your dragon. His name is Cannibal. I suggest you act quickly before he kills us, gundjabo," Prince Aemond commands authoritatively as he gives you instructions. After a moment of effort, you take a few steps forward, under the watchful gaze of the dragon.

“Naejot Māzīs, Canibal,” you say, approaching the dragon as you notice your hands stained with Prince Aemond’s blood. Despite the bloodied state, you persist in your attempt to claim the dragon. “Lykiri, Canibal. Nyke daor dangerous. Sȳz taoba.” You raise your blood-stained hand towards the dragon, which responds with another roar. Despite the force of the roar nearly causing you to fall, you stand firm, determined to show the dragon that it will have a fearless—if not reckless—rider. The dragon spreads its wings and positions itself in front of you, undecided on whether to accept or attack. It then unleashes a powerful flame into the sky.

You close your eyes tightly, resigned to your fate, but also emboldened by the attempt to claim a dragon, an unprecedented advance from your life as a bastard prostitute. As you brace for the dragon’s attack, it approaches, waiting. You glance back at Prince Aemond, who stands behind you, observing. He gestures for you to place your hand on the dragon. With a deep breath, you gently and slowly reach out to touch the dragon’s face.

As soon as your hand makes contact, a powerful surge of energy envelops you. Your eyes shut again to fully experience the bond forming between you and Cannibal. Though it feels like mere seconds, you sense that more time has passed. Prince Aemond’s voice reaches you through the haze, calling you several times. When you finally open your eyes, both yours and the dragon’s meet in unison. Turning slowly, you face Prince Aemond, who appears astonished. You and Cannibal now stand united, as one.

"Congratulations, gundjabo. You have just bestowed a significant advantage upon your King in this war," Prince Aemond declares, his expression betraying genuine satisfaction. Yet, there is no joy within you. The gravity of your new reality is apparent: you are now irrevocably entangled in a conflict that, though not of your own making, could very well claim your life. Moreover, your evident lack of experience with dragons only compounds the danger you face. Officially, your existence has been altered beyond recognition.

TO BE CONTINUED

GLOSSARY

Ao kostagon jikagon - You can go

Gundjabo - Prostitute

Ñuha Dārilaros - My Prince

Naejot Māzīs - Come Forward

Lyriri - Calm down

Nyke - I

Daor - Not

Sȳz - Good

Taoba - Boy

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thefallennightmare · 2 years

Text

Arranged-five

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: language, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death.

Summary: Reader would do anything to make her parents happy and that included agreeing to an arranged marriage. She never expected it to be to one of New York's most feared Mob Boss: Bucky Barnes. He is anything but lovingtowards Reader however when her parents are mysteriously killed, Bucky makes it his mission to find out who were at fault. And in the process, ends up coming close to losing Reader.

Authors Note: Tags for this will be open, just shoot me a message or comment if you're interested!

Tags: @alexxavicry @mdpplgtz03 @broadwaybabe18 @samsgirl93 @cherryflavoureds-blog @findthebeautyinbreakdowns @clqrosmgc @loumaaria-blog @queerqueenlynn

Arranged Masterlist

Bucky was at my back while Steve led the way up the front steps and they quickly ushered me inside, with no words spoken the entire drive back home. Something wasn’t right with this meeting they were almost late for, I couldn’t shake the weight in my stomach.

“Steve, can you take her to her room and stay with her until I’m finished?” Bucky asked.

“I’m not going to be held prisoner. You said it yourself, I can have free reign,” I reminded him.

Steve simply placed a hand at the small of my back, trying to lead me upstairs, however my foot remained planted in the main entry way of the house. That was when Bucky’s other two bodyguards stepped in, ready to grasp my elbows to drag me upstairs. My yells of protests bounced off the walls.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” I sneered.

Bucky stepped between his men, anger flushing his cheeks. “Let’s get one thing straight, you don’t ever lay a finger on her, understand? She is to only be handled by Steve or I.”

“Boss, all do respect, she’s been a pain since she’s first arrived,” Jake, one of his men said.

The other man, Ryan, agreed with a nod.

“Excuse me?” I asked, shocked.

“Listen lady, I’d suggest you keep my mouth shut. You have no idea what you got yourself into,” Jake snapped.

A shriek fell from my lips as I watched Bucky wrap his metal fingers around Jake's throat and pinned him against the back of the front door, feet dangling inches above the floor.

“Bucky, stop.” I placed a hand on his other arm but it was as if Bucky couldn’t feel my touch.

Jake was gasping, swallowing, for any ounce of air around him as Bucky tightened the grip on his throat. Jake scratched and clawed at the metal arm but failed, it not having any effect on Bucky.

“I’d suggest you apologize to my future wife.”

Nothing came out of Jake’s lips so Bucky squeezed harder.

“Sorry,” Jake choked out.

“Okay, let him go,” I said to Bucky.

He still wouldn’t drop him so this time I did my best to step between the two of them.

“God damnit, Bucky. Let. Him. Go.”

Bucky’s gaze bounced from Jakes to mine and when he saw my worried one, he reluctantly dropped Jake to the floor; his gasps echoing down the halls.

“You’re lucky I need you two assholes for this meeting otherwise you’d be gone,” Bucky threatened towards Ryan, who had been standing there, head down and avoiding the wrath of Bucky.

“Y/N, let's get upstairs,” Steve suggested.

“Well it’s about time you showed up. I’ve been waiting over an hour.”

All eyes landed on the new man that entered the room. He was dressed in a suit that screamed expensive and he placed his glasses into his pocket, brown eyes resting on my face. The smile that crept to his lips didn’t sit well with me.

“You must be the bride to be. I’m Tony Stark, an associate of your lover boy here. Will you be joining us?”

I stared at Tony’s extended hand and before I could even make the choice to shake it, Bucky had his hand on my hip and was leading me towards the stairs.

“Not this time, Stark,” Bucky grumbled before motioning towards Steve. “She doesn’t have to stay in her room but make sure she stays away from my office.”

“Ah, come on Barnes. She would be a real asset,” Tony spoke once again.

Bucky’s metal fingers twitched with rage so I reached for them and linked our hands together. He immediately eased into my touch, eyes softening as I looked into his eyes.

“I’ll be up in my room. Come find me when you’re finished?” I suggested.

He quickly nodded before he composed himself, ushering all the men to follow him towards his office.

There was a nice breeze that afternoon, fall in New York fast approaching, and I smiled while bringing the blanket closer to me. I had been sitting on the balcony of my bedroom, watching the fast night life of the city approaching. Even if Barnes Manor was secluded, we were high up on a hill that you could still see the constant movement of cars driving through the city.

I had a book perched on my lap but after reading the same sentence a handful of times, I had closed it with a long sigh. My mind had been wrapped up in what was happening downstairs and if Bucky would be finishing up soon. It had been almost two hours since he disappeared into his office, Steve standing outside my bedroom door that whole time. I mentioned it a few times to him that he didn’t need to stay, he could do whatever he wanted.

“I figured you could use the company.”

The only positive thing about Bucky being in that meeting for so long was that I was able to do a bit of research on this mystery man.

Tony Stark was a billionaire, one of the few in New York. He had lost his parents when he was in college but he never let that affect him. He created his own empire by investing in other smaller companies and building them high for success.

A silent investor is what his Wikipedia page said.

What confused me was that Bucky had money, lots of it. He didn’t need Stark or his money, so I had no idea what his part in Bucky’s company was.

To be honest, I didn’t even know what Bucky was working on or into. All I knew was that he was some feared mob boss.

But did I want to know that information? Could I live with what he does to the people that go against his orders?

“Y/N?”

I looked over my shoulder and gave a smile to Steve, who was leaning against the doorframe to the balcony.

“Everything alright?” I asked.

Steve ran a hand through his long hair and nodded. “Bucky sends his apologies. His meeting is running a bit longer than expected.”

I shrugged. “It’s alright. I’ve got plenty of time.”

He could hear the falter in my voice. “Did you want to talk? About anything?”

I hesitated. “Is that a good idea? From what I hear, you and Bucky are best friends. I don’t want to say something that would upset you.”

Steve shook his head with a chuckle. “It wouldn’t be anything I hadn’t heard before. Buck may come off as a hard ass but he really does care about the people closest to him. Plus, I’m here for you; safety wise and someone to vent too.”

“Well, in that case,” I pointed to the seat next to me. “Have a seat.”

“So, Bucky tells me you two are doing a courthouse wedding?” Steve asked while straightening out his dress shirt.

I nodded. “When I think of a wedding, it's supposed to be this huge celebration where you prove your love for one another in front of your loved ones.”

“I understand that,” Steve said.

“I wish my parents did,” I sighed. “They’re upset because they arranged this whole thing to make sure the rest of my life I didn’t have to worry about anything.”

“You didn’t get a say in this?”

I shook my head while fidgeting with the rings on my fingers. “Nope and I can’t go against my parents; it was the number one rule while growing up.”

Steve looked at my fingers and his brow raised in confusion when he saw the bare finger on my left hand.

“No ring yet?” He questioned.

“Oh,” I looked at my hand. “I don’t think Bucky is going to give me one, to be honest.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Steve suggested with a smirk.

Suddenly, I felt a large presence behind me and when I looked over my shoulder, the pace of my heart began to quicken.

Bucky was leaning against the railing, a smirk playing at his lips. He must have been so quiet as he walked in because I didn’t hear a thing.

“Hi,” I breathed.

“Steve keeping you company?” He questioned.

“Yeah. Is that alright?”

I couldn’t tell if Bucky was upset with Steve and I being alone.

He nodded. “Steve’s the only one I trust to leave you with.”

“Meeting go alright?” Steve questioned while he rose to his feet.

Bucky nodded. “Do you mind bringing the car around? I’ve got an errand to run.”

Steve quietly excused himself, leaving Bucky and I alone.

“What about Jake?” I asked.

From what I could tell, he had been Bucky’s driver.

Bucky’s eyes clouded over with darkness, only for a moment. “He won’t be working for me anymore.”

With the curtness in his voice, I decided not to press on with the issue or with the splatter of blood on Bucky’s metal knuckles.

“So,” I changed the subject. “I’m assuming you have other plans then?”

He nodded. “I’ll only be gone an hour. Since Steve will be with me, can you promise that you won’t go anywhere?”

“I’ve got nowhere to go,” I shrugged.

Bucky let out a sad sigh while stuffing his hands deep into his pockets. “I don’t want to make you feel like a prisoner, Y/N.”

I disagreed with his worry. “You don’t. I’m still settling in so it’ll take me some time.”

“Would that stop you from spending some alone time with me tonight?” Bucky noticed my hesitation. “I’ll cook you dinner, that’s it.”

“Please?” A smile began pulling up in the corner of his lips.

I gnawed on my lip at how cute he looked when he begged. “Sure. I’d like that.”

Bucky nodded. “Dining room. Seven o'clock.”

“Seven o'clock,” I repeated before watching him walk out of the room, not before throwing another smile to me over his shoulder.

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