#but that man? the man who sent men to murder her little boy?

[dreamedfyre-a]

i'm thinking so much about hel and her children today for some reason. how she was way too young to be a mother and quite frankly relied entirely on the servants and ladies and her mother at first, and how she would have struggled with not knowing how to be a mother when she wasn't even an adult, and how her sensory sensitivities (especially when it comes to sound and touch) would make it harder to deal with her children, and how easily overwhelmed she would be

but also how she loves and cares for them and keeps them close most of the time. she's with them so often even though strictly speaking she didn't have to be. but she loves them and she wants them close, whether they're playing indoors or she's taking them to dreamfyre (rip to anyone who tried to say 'but it's dangerous' she trusts dreamfyre with her life and with her children's lives too)

when her little prince is born, it's a lot easier. she's older (young, still, but even so) and she has experience, it's also one (1) baby instead of two. she's a little less terrified overall. he's the one she spends the most time with since he was very little

[josephquinnswhore]

Little bird - joel miller x female reader

summary: joel is a merciless hunter for sport, seeking many anew victim when he comes across you. who changes everything.

word count: 3.8k

content warning: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. READ THE WARNINGS BEFORE CONSUMING. joel is basically a psycho? he kills for sport, control freak, stalking, murder, dubcon, age gap, power dynamic, manipulation, gaslighting, forceful face fucking, reader spews on Joel’s cock, blood play, forced proximity, m orgasm, fingering, m and f oral receiving, f orgasm, pet names such as; little bird, birdie, princess, daddy.

Joel had adapted to the outbreak effortlessly, without thought, like a bird jumping from its nest, like instinct. It is in his nature alike to theirs, to adapt through the conditions to ensure survival for their species without second thought for consequence. Even after what had happened to his daughter.

The instance of her unnecessary death had sent Joel spiral into this mindset, serial killing and torture. Not even out of necessity, supplies, he just found a sense of control in the act.

He is constantly covered in blood, his hands, neck and clothes all had stains on them. But he found comfort in the act of squeezing his large hands around someone’s frail neck, seeing the light fade from their eyes.

Paired travellers were his preference. The men always tried to be heroes, and Joel found it amusing that they always thought they’d beat him in battle, underestimating Joel's pent up rage and obsession for control. His strength is unmatched—survival skill and pure animalistic rage is channelled with each plea for mercy.

He’d seen many people around him change, good hearted folk who had clawed so far deep into the instinctual rage of strength and determination within themselves. Just so they had what it takes to survive this world.

But Joel—this darkness was raging inside of him before the outbreak, before any real need to access this side for survival had even come into play. With decades of experience, he had become skilled at stalking, especially. Observing.

Often he had thoughts about doing bad things to women and men that he acted out on. He couldn’t find a goddamn ounce of sympathy within himself as he hunted people, stalking his next victims through every state and terrain.

It was sport for Joel, a comfort as he realises that everyone’s life is in his hands, that he gets to decide who lives and dies. That he remained victorious. Too brutal and savage for anyone to defeat.

Notoriously good at what he did, he had more blood on his hands than probably anyone, finding the stalking as exhilarating as the kill.

It had never been anything more than that, until now.

Until he had seen you, two days prior.

He had taken one glance at you, and his feet of their own accord, had started trailing you. Following from a distance as the memorises the size and depth of your footprints in the snow. Since then, he’d been listening in on the two of you bickering about how lost you were, namely you—terrified about where you were, and where you were going.

Walking through the thick snowfall of the mountains, carrying that overloaded bag that made your shoulders sag. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d see your face crumble in pain as you try to adjust the straps of the bag, or beg the young man you traveled with to put some items into his own bag to take some weight off your shoulders.

Watching every interaction between you and this man from the past two days, he could conclude that he was your boyfriend. He hated this boy, the way he walked ahead of you, made you keep first watch after a gruelling day of travelling.

You don’t argue or seem to mind which Joel concedes is a product of this being a constant for you.

He gathers that more than likely, you didn’t understand how you were being taken advantage of. That this boy didn’t care about you, not the way he did.

The thought infuriated him, sending a rush of heat through his body as he clutched onto the falling bark of a tree he had hidden behind, observing you through the forest, the only thing that separates you from him, is a small clearance of flat ground to your small, makeshift camp.

A natural formation of a cave like structure made of rock. All you had to keep you warm was a freying sleeping bag and the arms of the boy wrapped around you.

Joel thinks about all the ways he’d take care of you. Giving you his thick, insulated winter coat, lighting a fire for you in his cabin. Keeping watch the entire evening so you could rest your fragile body.

The more he thinks, the more he fuels his own obsession. He wonders what your skin feels like under his own sinful ones, wonders what your cries would sound like, if you’d give into him or run.

For the first time in years, he doesn’t want to kill, he doesn’t plan on wrapping his thick hands around your neck to crush your oesophagus. He doesn’t think about reaching for his sharpened hunting blade and driving it to the hilt into the soft, warm flesh of your neck.

No, you were different. So pretty, so mistreated. He had to take care of you. Bring you into his warm hands like an injured bird in need of delicate care.

You’re exhausted beyond belief. The old boots you wear are barely holding together, even with the duct tape you’d wrapped around the collapsing soul, and even that was wearing off the front of the shoe.

You know you can’t risk sliding them off for a moment to dig your fingers into your heels to relieve the ache, in fear of infected, or people.

It’s not ideal to stop here, in the middle of the snowfall, freezing your asses off. You’re so lost, and afraid.

There’s a sense of bitterness rising inside of you as you watch your boyfriend sleep, you love him, with each beat of your heart… but you needed to sleep too. If only.

Hours pass of you staring into the clearance of trees and snow, of nothing. Not a bird, not a wisp of wind. The lack of anything happening only fuelled the burning in your dried eyes, lulling them to close, just for a moment.

You don’t know that you’d fallen asleep, standing upright against the tree you were keeping watch from until you’re awoken by a blood curdling scream.

Shaking you out of your slumber, you turn to see your boyfriend is gone from the makeshift camp.

A sense of dread buries itself deep into your skin.

“No.. fuck.. no! Jacob!” You cry out, ignoring the ache in your feet as you run back the way you heard the scream. Holding your handgun in front of you cautiously, there’s another scream.

But it sounds like it’s encircling you. Surrounding you from every direction.

“Jacob!” You scream back, tears welling your eyes.

This was your fault.

A spec of blood catches your eye, like a trail of a clue leading you to a horrific mystery. But you follow, urging yourself to run as you come to see your boyfriends body tied to a lonesome tree in front of a small nearby cabin.

“Jacob… Jacob it’s me,” your voice cracks, tossing your gun down onto the snow as you reach for the tightly knotted ropes that had him restrained against the tree. Jacob’s voice is muffled by a rope fastened into his mouth, keeping his head upright against the tree.

Despite his desperate attempts to warn you of the looming predator behind you.. it’s hopeless.

The blood has created a small pool around him, seeping into the snow. “I’m gonna help you okay? I’m sorry.. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have fallen asleep. I’m gonna get you out of this.”

A sound behind you makes your fingers freeze in place around the rope, the familiar sound of the hammer of a gun being pulled back—ready to fire.

Frantically, you look to the ground and realise that your gun is no longer where you’d tossed it. The only evidence of it was a deep imprint in the snow.

A deep, southern voice carries strong through the short distance between you, sending a nauseating shiver down your spine. “Hands where I can see ‘em.”

You raise your hands above your head, kneeling on the ground, eyeing your boyfriend with tears in your eyes, mouthing to him with a tremble of your jutted bottom lip. “I’m so sorry.”

“Turn around.” The deep voice instructs.

Obeying, you turn your body towards your captor, on your knees with your hands still in a surrendering gesture. Eyes stuck on his shoes that were in much better condition than your own, practically new looking.

The cool metal of your own gun traces the shape of your chin, lifting your face upward to meet the gaze of an older man. His dark brown eyes shift as he takes in every feature of your face, committing every detail to memory.

You’re even prettier up close.

“Please don’t do this, I .. we don’t have anything to give. We’re starving as it is and our supplies are worn.” The plea goes ignored, but you’re desperate.

“I’ll do anything, just help Jacob, don’t let him die like this,” you beg, fat tears rolling down past your waterline.

So pretty when you cry. Those bright, big eyes begging him to help you. It’s exactly what he wanted.

“Oh? You’ll do anything will you?” Darkly, he chuckles. “Remember this promise, little bird.”

The man holds your gun in his hand and grabs at you, one hand grasping the back of your head and bringing it flush to his crotch, rubbing your soft face over the hard bludge of his cock.

A breathy moan escapes him at how you protest, the palms of your hands against his thighs attempt to push him away.

“Tss. Maybe you don’t care about your little boyfriend after all, do you?” He scolded you.

A dry sob slips past your cracked lips, seeming to give up against the harsh grip of the man. A twisted rumble from within his chest vibrates against your palms splayed on his jeans.

“Unbutton my jeans and take out my cock,” the older man sneers, in a means to humiliate you.

Your cold, trembling fingers work at the tight button, and it pops open with a sense of release as his stomach slightly overhangs the right fitting denim. The zipper is freezing—but you manage to keep your fingers pinched around the small zip enough to pull his jeans down to expose him.

More tears fall down your face as you fail to accept what was happening.

“Tell me you want this cock, little bird.”

At your silence, the man redirects the barrel of your gun to your boyfriend. “You think I won’t fucking shoot him again?”

With his booming, threatening promise of violence against Jacob, you utter nonsense.

“I want your cock,” voice cracked thickly as you force the words out.

The man growls in approval, bringing the gun back to you, tracing the barrel of the weapon against your lips in a tantalising threat.

“If you try anything, including biting.. I’ll blow your fuckin’ brains out princess.” The utterance through gritted teeth sends your blood cold.

He had no intention of actually killing you, but the way you were trembling beneath him was a good sign you believed it.

“Now be a good girl and swallow your daddy’s thick cock,” he hums, forcing the thick, blunt tip through your parted lips.

It burns, how far his cock has stretched your lips wide open, the intrusion so far deep into your mouth makes you gag around him, but that doesn’t deter him at all. Pushing further into your mouth, down the back of your throat.

“Fuck little bird, knew your mouth would take me perfectly.”

Tears, snot and saliva all accumulate at the base of his cock, urging his hand to force you closer to him. Holding his cock down your throat, legs trembling beneath him at the feel of you struggling, gagging against him and the palms of your hands frantically trying to push him out of your mouth so that you could breathe.

He pulls halfway out of you, and with that a small amount of bile from your throat coats his cock. Your mouth was so perfect, warm and stretched out for him. Taking him so well. Nothing deters this man from taking exactly what he’d dreamt of you these past two days.

The constant reminder of the gun pressed against your temple was forcing you to endure this. It would save Jacob, it would ensure survival for the two of you.

It hurts, the way he’s fucking himself into your throat relentlessly. The pace is brutal and each growl makes your stomach feel sick.

The worst part is that your body is reacting to this, the slick between your legs is gathering and becoming incredibly uncomfortable.

“Gonna swallow my cum, birdie, fuck.. can feel my cock down your throat.” He can see the thickness down your throat too, swollen full of him. He cums with a strangled groan, the sight of his cock twitching down your throat sent him over the edge.

“Such a good girl, ain’cha?”

You’re completely fucked out. Eyes blown wide and red from the tears you shed. He pulls his cock out of your mouth to trace the outline of your plump lips.

“Please let us go now,” the hoarse request is met with a twisted cackle.

The man stuffs his hard cock into his jeans, the outline of it is impossible to ignore as you look up at him with a pleading gaze.

You had done everything he’d asked, and perfectly too.

Which is why he had to do this.

“Sorry, birdie. But I can’t let you go now.”

He brings your gun upward to Jacob and pulls the trigger. Five pounds of pressure against the trigger causes your boyfriend's head to fall limp against the tree, a gaping, bleeding hole in the middle of his forehead.

“No!” Your voice cracks as a guttural scream tears through the air.

No part of your body is listening as you will it to move, for your legs to carry you to stand and run, but they’re numb from being knelt on the icy ground so long.

The man shoves you onto the soft, snow. Your head is right beside your lifeless boyfriend’s body. “Jacob.. Jacob please,” you beseech, hoping that he’d somehow be able to save you.

Your arms are flailing against his chest as he crawls on top of you, the weak attempt gains a thick hand down the front of your cargo pants, and a hot growl against your lips.

“Maybe I don’t need to clip your wings after all, birdie, seems this pretty fucking pussy is already wet. Don’t pretend to fight me, princess. She wants this.” Without warning, one thick finger pushes inside of your weeping cunny, before pulling it out.

A protesting whine rolls off your tongue as he removes his finger, before you could stop yourself. He sucks your juices off the digit. And his eyes darken.

“Been thinkin’ bout how this sweet pussy would taste, knew it would be perfect.”

The older man sticks the same finger that had just been inside you, into one of Jacob’s stomach wounds, coating his finger in the warm, red blood.

He thrives off the mortified expression that causes your face to scrunch up, wiggling as he brings the bloody finger down to your lips, forcing it into your mouth.

But as he retreats his finger past your lips it’s now stained red, albeit clean. But you reject it, gagging against the metallic taste, spitting the blood onto the snow in a messy spatter, some of it sticking to your cheek and chin.

“You’re sick!” A crooked smile stretches the man’s lips at your accusation.

“No, no little bird. This is exactly what you need. A real man to protect you, so that this..” he gestures to your boyfriend. “Doesn’t happen to you, I’m sure you don’t want that, do you?”

The condescending tone is lost on you as the griping reality of fear ensnares you.

Your throat aches at your attempt to swallow the saliva in your throat, bobbing thickly. The small notion of you shaking your head appeases him greatly.

“I’ll take care of you. All I ask is that you don’t run, or I will clip your wings, understand me little bird?”

A second nod seals your fate.

“Believe me when I say you made the right choice, you were comin’ with me either way.”

Turns out that the small, wooden cabin belonged to this man. He had kept his large hand on the small of your back the entire time he showed you around. His homestead was fully furnished with food, supplies, furniture, even toilet paper.

“This is where you’ll sleep.” He opens a door, and there’s no windows, just a bed. Accompanied by a giant lock on the outside of the door.

He wouldn’t need to clip your wings, if he could cage you in.

“Sit down,” he orders, and you obey, still in shock as your brain tries to swallow the past hour of events whole, not allowing you to process it.

The wooden stool creaks, and he silently fills a bucket of warm water and sits across from you on a chair at the dining table.

Delicately scrunching a small cloth in his hands to wipe the dried blood off of your face, he leans in toward you, an almost soft expression plastered as he concentrates.

“If you’re good f’me we’ll give that friend of yours ‘o proper burial. Would you like that?”

The sweetness of his voice lured you in, to stare into his deep brown eyes, to take in the concerned shape of his pinched brows.

“I.. I would like that.”

He hums, you were learning quickly. Once he’s happy with your face being cleaned, he stands, picking up the aluminium bucket by the handle and pouring it down the sink. Clunking as he sets it back on the floor.

“Let’s go bury him then.” Before he changes his mind.

The snow was too thick for Joel to penetrate the soil with his shovel, so he had just cleared a foot of snow and tossed the young man into it, burying him under the frost, stacking a few rocks on top of the unmarked, unnamed grave.

He’s impressed and grateful you don’t run away though the process. That would implicate some serious issues and more importantly, require some kind of punishment.

Joel was willing to do anything to train you, to ensure that you never ran from him. In that regard, since you did stay, he felt he would reward you.

His bed is warm, the duvet is thick and the smell of him brings a sense of security to you for some reason, despite all that had happened.

“When you appease me, as you have today. I’ll reward you.” He coos, gently lying you down onto his soft bed, crawling between your legs, hastily shuffling your pants down your legs.

His face is directly between your thighs, and he parts them softly.

“I can smell how badly you need me, little bird.” He groans, pressing hot, open mouthed kissed to your inner thighs, slowly, agonisingly closer to your core.

He’s surprised when you impatiently nudge the back of his head closer to you. “That’s my girl.”

The curve of his nose rubs against your swollen clit, his tongue darting upward and into your pussy with a newfound passion.

He growls against you, the notion sends a vibration through you, and you let out a soft whimper. Thick hands ground themselves in your hips, dragging you downward in the bed so his face could delve deeper into your hole.

The wet muscle is skilled in it’s explorative ministrations, licking a long stripe from your core to your swollen clit.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get some attention too.” The promise he utters to your neglected clit is fufilled as he clamps his mouth around the bundle of nerves and sucks on you, the pressure causes a suction that feels electric.

Your fingers stiffen as they grasp onto his unruly curls. Coaxing him for more, more more more.

And he gives—the tip of his tongue skilfully, slowly working you closer and closer to the edge you’d never been brought to before.

Your thighs instinctively clamp shut around his head, keeping him buried there, not wanting him to stop.

“Please, please, please need more,” your unintelligible begging implores him to double down on his ministrations.

He can feel that you’re going to burst against him, slowly, and slowly he was winding the burning hot coil inside of you, the pressure was becoming unbearable as your thighs quake and tenable at his command.

Two of his thick fingers are swallowed by your constricting cunt, clamping down as you cry out at the intense sensation. His fingers expertly work you, pumping deep inside of you, calloused fingertips hitting the spongey flesh inside of your slick hole.

“Fucking.. need you..” you’re slurring your words, and he’s convinced that your hole would swallow him if you pushed him far enough between your legs. He could feel how greedily your pussy was swallowing his fingers. Desperate for release.

In an act of desperation, you begin to forcibly rut your pussy against his face as you raise your hips, tiring of his pace not being quiet enough to give you what you needed.

“Please.. please I want to cum.. gonna cum..”

At the increase of friction, and him allowing you to use his face your orgasm comes crashing over you. Your pussy constricts around his fingers as he works you at a slower pace through your climax.

A delicious string of babbling moans and praise roll past your lips.

Thighs jittering with a delicious tremble as they finally relax from their tight vice around his head.

“Thank you.. thank you..” the faint, inarticulate cry was all he needed for him to grin against your pussy.

You’re left heaving, and he’s mesmerised by the way your chest rises and falls at his performance. It’s something he has become enticed with—seeing you alive. Breathing.

It’s unusual for him, admiring the life within you when he was so used to taking it.

And now, as he pulls away from your pussy, lying beside you in his bed. Your body in his arms.. he knew he’d made the right choice to keep your life.

“You did so well f’me little bird.” The praise falls on your ringing ears, but all that’s returned is a vulnerable whine.

Not bothering to correct him after a moment of silence, you can’t help the words that feel petulant to ask. “Who are you?”

“Joel. And this—is your new home.” He croons into your tangled hair.

All for a moment, in the blissful ecstasy you forget how you ended up here.

[wordstome]

the execution of lady jane grey

I got drunk and Tiktok showed me history_alice's video about this painting by Paul Delaroche. And since God has cursed me for my hubris and my work is never finished, have some medieval executioner König x fem mc. Also, Lady Jane Grey was executed by Mary Tudor (Bloody Mary), not by Henry the VIIIth (the one with the six wives), but I blended the stories just because I can.

1.3k words

König doesn't ask questions.

It's never been his job to ask questions. The king points, and he does the dirty work. Most of the time, he takes pleasure in it: thieves, rapists, murderers, they all answer to his justice. And sure, a true loyal citizen might argue that he's simply enacting the king's justice, but it's König who swings the axe, is it not? In the end, König decides their fate.

In theory, anyway. In practice, this is simply his job. He keeps his head down and does what he's told. He stays quiet about the king's secret executions, the ones that happen in the dungeons instead of out in the open courtyard where the smallfolk gather to watch. It's hypocritical, honestly. They all look at König like he's a monster, some spectre of death among men, but when there's a public execution to be held, are they not the ones clamoring and pushing to be at the front?

There are some times when the king's executions are more...dubious. An advisor who voiced dissent one too many times. A thief stealing barley from the royal stables to feed his family, made an example of. A young man, just a boy really, accused of murdering four grown men—convenient, considering all four men's wives had been found in the king's bed at some point or another.

Those are the executions König prefers not to think about. The ones that haunt him in his dreams anyway. Those are the ones that make him yearn for his days in the army: when the people he killed were as faceless as his hood was to them, when he didn't know them and didn't have to think about the loved ones they left behind. König's never claimed to be a good person, the opposite in fact. But sometimes when he brings the blade down, he imagines a different, more royal neck on the block instead.

He feels this way now, as he watches her make her way to the block.

She's ethereal in her petticoat, the soft silken material reflecting what little light there is in the cold stone room and bathing her in a warm glow. Gentle and obedient into her own grave.

The king's wife. Sent to the block for treason, of all things. But everyone knows the truth: he's only killing this poor woman because he plots to put his latest mistress on the throne. Just a few weeks ago, this sweet young thing was the king's main obsession. She stood no chance at all, the daughter of a local lord currying favor with royalty. And now, she's being put to death through no fault of her own. The injustice grinds König's teeth, and takes his mind to a dark, dangerous place.

If she was his, he would never so much as let another woman cross his mind again. He's seen her about the palace grounds, with her beautiful bright eyes and lively smile, skirts trailing behind her like the tail feathers of an exotic bird. Just watching her had made him feel young again, no longer the brutish old soldier everyone averted their eyes from.

He's only spoken to her once, but he'll never forget it. He had been in her way, but she was the one who apologized. Most people would have seen the hood and backed away in fear, but not her. He watched, frozen and unable to say a single word, as she curtseyed and looked at him with, of all things, a shy curiosity. For one still, breathtaking moment, he held her gaze in his, and he felt like they were the last two people remaining on earth.

Then her lady in waiting had touched her on the elbow, and the spell was broken as they continued on their way. But König had never forgotten.

That same lady in waiting is here now, eyes puffy as she holds the queen's elaborate dress and jewelry in her lap. She had chosen to take it off, so as not to stain the expensive fabrics with her blood. How can she be so considerate of others, when the whole world has failed her so?

She turns to him, trembling like a little bird, and meets his gaze. The words come out before he can help himself.

"I beg your forgiveness," he blurts out, and almost immediately mentally scolds himself. What right does he have, of all people, to ask for her grace?

"Of course, sir," she says, her voice clear and sweet. Surely, he can't feel any more wretched than he does right now...and then she speaks again.

"I only pray you dispatch me quickly..." She turns a fearful eye to the wooden block, sitting almost innocently on top of the straw laid down to soak up her lifeblood. "Will...will you take it before I lay me down?"

"No, madam," he whispers.

She nods, and with a sudden streak of iron will, ties the blindfold about her head. König knows this is a kindness: she'll never see him coming. And yet his heart aches to see her cover up those beautiful eyes.

A loud sob comes out of the lady in waiting, watching her young mistress fumble around blindly. König's heart shatters when she lets out a little cry of confusion as the lieutenant of the prison rushes to hold her steady. "What shall I do? Where is it?"

König feels a sudden streak of anger, at the gentle way the lieutenant lowers her to the ground. The man clearly knows this is wrong, and yet will not lift a finger to help her.

Guilt strikes him yet again as he remembers that neither is he.

Or is he?

He stares down at her, this vulnerable little lamb sent to the slaughter, her pretty neck exposed for his blade, and he knows what he has to do.

The lady in waiting cries out in anguish as the blade lowers to the queen's head, causing her to gasp as the cold metal brushes against her skin. But instead of cutting her head off, König slices through her blindfold with a deft precision.

"What is the meaning of this?" The lieutenant demands as the queen scrambles from her kneeling position. König offers his arm, and she takes it, her hands warm against his sleeve as she stands up. The confusion is writ plain on her face, but her eyes shine with an innocent hope that only steels König's resolve.

"You," König says, pointing his axe at the lieutenant, who shuffles backwards nervously. "You will tell the king that she has been executed. If he asks for a body, find one: I don't care which one. And if you tell anyone what happened here today, I swear to you that I will water the earth with your blood, and the blood of every family member in your line." His eyes narrow at the lieutenant. "Do I make myself clear?" The man nods, stuck still with terror.

The queen's lady in waiting rushes forward, pressing jewels into her hands. "My lady, you will need these," she says urgently. "For wherever life takes you next." She gives König a determined look. "Take care of her, sir."

The queen's eyes go wide and round as she looks up at König. "I don't understand."

He kneels to her height, taking her hands in his. "I am taking you away from this place," he tells her, his voice low and urgent. "But you need to trust me."

She closes her eyes, and takes one deep, trembling breath before opening them again. "I trust you."

"Good." She yelps as he picks her up in his arms, hands instantly darting about his shoulders. "I am sorry, my lady, but we don't have much time."

She giggles, giggles, in his arms. "I don't mind," she says, with a mischievous little look that invites trouble. God, he is utterly fucked, isn't he?

"I can give you time, but not much," the lieutenant says. "Go!"

König doesn't need to be told twice.

To be honest with you, I have no idea what this is. I wrote this in, like. An hour. I think a demon possessed me. I don't think I'm going to write more of this au, but who knows!

@danibee33 @kneelingshadowsalome @crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr @keiva1000 @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @mantishymns @lexuria

[redrose10]

so i was told 'maybe in another life' pt. 2 was a possibility and here we are.... PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU GIVE ME A PART TWO AND MY LIFE IS YOURS 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

I hope this lives up to your expectations…

There will be another part to this one too. Sorry

This is a part 2/continuation of this one here.

Non Idol Yoongi x Loan Shark Female Reader. Soulmate AU

Warnings: Violence, guns, kind of suggestive, mentions of orphanage, murder, swearing, name calling

*******************************************************

Over the years, lifetimes really, you grew to hate the idea of soulmates. You used to think the idea was sweet. The thought of being tied to someone else so tightly that destiny would force the two of you together somehow seemed romantic. If only your other half had felt the same way.

The last time you saw Yoongi in person he was a famous idol that you happened to have to work with while he was completing his required military service. Once again he rejected your soulmate status though. He told you to move on and find someone else like he had. Because just like he said he would, he married another woman who wasn’t you. She was an idol just like him. Famous, talented, and beautiful. The wedding photos that were plastered in every magazine and all over the city were beautiful. Even you couldn’t deny that he looked at her with so much love and affection, something you never saw from him. They ended up having two kids, a boy and a girl. He had his own little happy family while you struggled every day to get by. Yoongi went on to live a long successful life filled with fame, money, and happiness from what you could see.

You can still remember the way you felt the day you saw the news of his passing. There had always been a part of you that hoped that maybe he would realize his love for you, especially after it was announced that him and his wife had divorced. Then the two of you could be together and finally put an end to the lifetimes of suffering you had endured, but you never saw him in person again.

And in that moment as you stared at his smiling face plastered on your tv screen while the newscaster discussed the upcoming funeral it sealed the deal and forced you into yet another life once your current was over.

In this new life you no longer cared to find Yoongi and instead accepted the fact that you would be forced to live a million different lives possibly for eternity. All of this lead you to be the cold, bitter, ruthless person you had become today.

“Please!”, the man in front of you sobbed, “I’ll get the money. I promise. Just give me another week.”

You pushed the end of the pistol a little harder into his forehead sure to leave a mark. “That’s what you said last week.”, you spat, “I’m out of time. The boss wants his money or a body. Which is it gonna be?”

“Please. I’m begging you. I’ll have it next wee-“

The man dropped to floor lifeless as you put away your still smoking gun. “Clean this up and get him over to the boss.”, you ordered to one of your men before pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one up.

The first time you killed someone you cried yourself to sleep that night. Their crying, sobs of desperation, the way they called for their mother… You had nightmares for weeks. But now, years later, it was just another day on the job. Tonight you will go home, crack open a beer, and forget everything that just happened. It was the only way to survive.

“Let’s go. Boss sent the next location.”, one of your men spoke from the doorway, “Said it’s a big one.” You nodded and put out your cigarette before following behind.

You don’t exactly remember how you ended up as one of the lead loan sharks for the biggest and fiercest mob boss this side of the planet, but somehow you got there. You were orphaned at a young age. Bounced around from home to home most of which not equipped to properly provide for you which resulted in stealing to get what you needed. One evening you smelled something that made your stomach growl even harder than it had been. A steaming loaf of fresh baked bread was left out in front of a bakery to cool. You were starving and cold and after making sure no one was looking you grabbed it and ran. You didn’t get very far before two men caught up to you grabbing you by your arms. They carried you back to that same storefront and into one of the back rooms where you were thrown on the ground.

“We don’t tolerate thieves around here.”, someone spat before forcing cold metal against your head. You closed your eyes not having the strength or motivation to fight back and hopelessly just wished for it to be over soon. You heard another voice enter the room demanding the gun to be put away. After some protests by your captor and a stern warning from the other man the gun was removed from your skin and the grip around your neck loosened. The man who saved you left the room without a word. You never even opened your eyes to get a look at him.

Before you knew it you were being driven to a large mansion just outside of the main city. You were given a bedroom and clean clothing. Three meals a day were provided which was more than you’d ever had. All of this was free of charge, you just had to promise to sign your life away to someone they only referred to as The Boss.

Regardless of what others think, to this day you’ve never seen him. Haven’t heard his voice since that day he demanded your release in the back of the bakery he used as a front for a gambling ring. You agreed to work for him because you had nothing else to loose and now many years later you were his top worker being trusted to lead his teams while doing all of his dirty work. It gave you a comfortable life by keeping you fed and housed and most of all kept your mind busy to the point you hardly ever thought about Min Yoongi.

“Ready? Boss says he wants this one alive if he refuses to pay. Wants to take care of him hisself. Guess this one has been extra mouthy.”, Baek said next to you. Baek was your right hand man. One of the few people in this business you trusted.

“Good, means we can be a little extra rough. I need to let off some steam anyways.”, you sighed checking to make sure your gun was loaded.

In the middle of an old abandoned factory you found a group of your men standing in a circle hurling insults and expletives, a few threw in a kick or punch at the man who was on his knees with his hands tied behind his back and a blindfold blocking his vision.

“Alright boys, step aside.”, you said pushing your way through the crowd of taller bigger men that you were never afraid of.

“Great. The princess is here.”, one of them groaned. “Wonder how often she has to fuck the boss for him to keep her around.”, another scoffed. You cocked your gun and pointed it directly in the middle of his forehead, “Who I fuck and when or where I fuck them is none.of.your.business.”

“Whoa whoa whoa Y/N let’s put the gun down. It’s late and we need to get this over with so we can all go get some rest.”, Baek said while he gently, but firmly forced your hand down.

“Yeah watch your mouth bitch.”, another in the crowd said, but before you could figure out who was the culprit someone else decided to interject.

“I’d be happy to keep her mouth occupied for a while.”, the man on his knees said making your stomach twist into a knot. That voice was oddly familiar.

Your head whipped to the side so fast you lost balance and when you composed yourself and got a good look at him you froze.

That smirk. You could recognize that smirk anywhere. That same smirk has haunted your dreams for centuries.

[sukuna-ryo]

Jjk Men in Fairytale Retellings

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𝕮𝖎𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖆 𝕮𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖔 <3

(10k words)

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Content Warnings: Cinderella Choso × Fem Prince Charming Reader. This is kinda genderbender. The women follow male gender norms and men follow female gender norms, but they're still women and men respectively. And yes, choso is wearing a dress and panties, that's intentional.

Explicit Sexual Content, MDNI. P in V. Unprotected Sex. Oral (f & m receiving). Face Sitting. Size Kink. Overstimulation. Exhibitionism. Slight Dub-Con. Idk what else to add, tell me if I missed something.

Thank you @daymarenightdream1 , @h0n3ysgh0st and pinkie for being my beta readers and helping with the cw.

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𝔒𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔲𝔭𝔬𝔫 𝔞 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢, in a world where gender norms are not quite what we're used to, there lived Cinderella Choso. He was a soft-spoken, kind-hearted boy who somehow managed to make even the simplest dresses look elegant—duh. His days were filled with chores, thanks to his stepmother, Kenjaku, and his two over-the-top stepsisters, Eso and Kechizu, who treated him more like a servant than family.

That morning, Cinderella Choso was on his hands and knees, scrubbing the already spotless floor, when Kenjaku sauntered into the room, holding a cup of tea like it was a trophy.

“You missed a spot,” Kenjaku said lazily, gesturing vaguely at the floor with the kind of smugness only a true villain could pull off.

Choso paused, tilting his head to inspect the gleaming tiles. “Where?”

Kenjaku raised an eyebrow, taking a slow sip of tea. “Emotionally. The floor doesn’t feel clean.”

Choso blinked at him, then decided not to respond. He wasn’t sure what that even meant, and honestly, he didn’t care to find out. Arguing with Kenjaku was like trying to reason with a storm—it was loud, exhausting, and always left him feeling worse.

In the other room, Eso and Kechizu were bickering loudly over their outfits for the royal ball that night.

“I’ll win over prince Y/N for sure,” Eso declared, holding up a sequined gown that sparkled so brightly it practically blinded Choso from where he was standing. He twirled dramatically, nearly knocking over a vase in the process.

“You? Win over the prince? Don’t make me laugh,” Kechizu snapped, holding a pair of heeled slippers like they were some kind of weapon. “I’ll be the one to catch her eye. You don’t even know how to walk in heels.”

“Better than you!” Eso shot back, his voice rising in indignation.

Cinderella Choso just kept scrubbing, doing his best to tune them out. This was normal, after all. He’d grown up in this chaos, surrounded by people who seemed to thrive on drama. The royal ball wasn’t meant for someone like him, anyway. It was for people like Eso and Kechizu—people who fit into that glittering world. He wasn’t bitter about it. Just… resigned.

By the time the house had emptied and the carriage had rolled away, Cinderella Choso found himself sitting by the fireplace, the only sound the faint crackle of the flames. He stared at the mop leaning against the wall, considering whether he should name it. At least it wouldn’t talk back.

The room felt emptier than usual, and though he wasn’t one to dwell on things, a small part of him couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like—to dress up, to dance, to be seen as more than just the boy in the shadows.

But that kind of life wasn’t meant for him. Or so he thought.

Then, with a loud poof that sent soot flying everywhere, a man appeared. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and shirtless, because apparently magical beings don’t believe in modesty. Tattoos coiled up his arms and across his chest, and he had this grin that could only be described as “murderous.” His pink hair was messy in an I-don’t-care way, and he had sharp, glowing eyes that made Choso immediately question if this guy was here to help or hurt.

“Ugh, look at you,” the man said, sneering as he glanced around the room. “Pathetic. Sitting in a pile of ash like some tragic little loser. No wonder your life sucks.”

Cinderella Choso blinked, taken aback. “Uh… who are you?”

“I’m your Fairy Godmother,” the man announced, planting his glowing staff on the ground with a thud. “But you can call me Sukuna. Let’s get this pity party over with so you can go embarrass yourself at the ball.”

Choso frowned. “Aren’t Fairy Godmothers supposed to be… you know, nice?”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow. “I’m nice enough to show up and fix your dumpster-fire life, aren’t I? Be grateful.”

Choso just stared. Sukuna, clearly unbothered, started waving his staff around like he was conducting an orchestra. “Alright, enough whining. Let’s make you look less… tragic.”

He raised his staff without waiting for an answer, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like an insult, and in an instant, Cinderella Choso’s plain, soot-stained dress shimmered and transformed. The fabric turned into a soft, flowing baby-pink gown, delicate as a rose petal, with subtle silver accents that sparkled under the flickering firelight. The sleeves were sheer and billowy, giving the outfit an ethereal touch, and the neckline was modest yet elegant, perfectly suited to someone as shy and unassuming as Choso.

His hair, which had been loosely tied back in a messy bun, now fell in smooth waves down his back, held in place by a small, glimmering clip shaped like a crescent moon. On his feet were glass slippers—simple and lovely but with heels that looked slightly impractical, as if designed by someone who didn’t care much about comfort.

Cinderella Choso blushed as he glanced at his reflection in the cracked mirror on the wall. “It’s… nice,” he murmured, smoothing the fabric nervously. “I like it.”

“Of course, you do. I made it,” Sukuna said, crossing his arms and grinning smugly. “Now, let’s get you out of here before I change my mind.”

He waved his staff again with dramatic flair, and a nearby pumpkin swelled and stretched until it became a sleek, elegant carriage. A group of rats squeaked in protest as they were magically transformed into well-groomed horses, their tiny tails vanishing with a poof.

“Rules are simple,” Sukuna said, grabbing a sparkly mask from thin air and tossing it to Choso. “Be back by 3 a.m., or everything goes back to normal. That includes your dress, your carriage, and probably your dignity. Got it?”

Choso nodded, clutching the mask tightly.

“And for the love of everything holy, don’t embarrass me out there,” Sukuna added, glaring at him. “You’re wearing a baby-pink dress to a ball. The bar for failure is low.”

Cinderella Choso felt his cheeks heat up but chose not to respond. Instead, he carefully climbed into the carriage, his hands trembling slightly as he adjusted the skirt of his gown.

Sukuna watched him go, leaning casually on his staff. “Good luck, kid,” he muttered, his voice softer but still teasing. “You’ll need it.”

As the carriage rolled away into the night, Cinderella Choso took a deep breath, his heart racing. He had no idea what to expect, but for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to feel a tiny spark of excitement.

And so, Cinderella Choso was off to the ball, and somewhere along the way meet you—Prince Charming, the most ridiculously charming woman in the kingdom.

The grand ballroom was in full swing. The soft glow of chandeliers cast a golden haze over the room, bouncing off delicate, crystal glasses and glinting across the polished floors. Guests drifted in and out of conversation, their laughter mingling with the soft strains of the orchestra.

Cinderella Choso stepped into the room, his eyes wide, taking in the scene around him. The extravagant gowns, the glint of jewelry, the laughter that echoed from the walls—it all felt so far removed from his reality. He stood just inside the doorway for a moment, trying to steady his breath. The pink dress he wore clung to him in a way that made him feel exposed and small. His heart raced in his chest, and for a moment, he wondered if he'd made a mistake even coming.

But then, you appeared.

You stood near the edge of the ballroom, casually talking to someone, but when you turned, your gaze locked onto him across the room, and everything seemed to stop. You were in a sharp, midnight-blue suit, tailored perfectly to fit your figure. It was sleek and elegant, with just the right amount of softness, your presence commanding attention without being overwhelming. Your face was soft, your hair neatly styled, and there was a quiet confidence about you that made it impossible for Cinderella Choso to look away.

You didn’t say anything at first, just let your eyes meet his, studying him, before a gentle smile curved your lips. You took a few steps towards him, weaving through the crowd like you owned the space. The sound of the music, the chatter, all faded away, leaving just the two of you in the center of it all.

“Hello,” you said, your voice smooth and warm as you gently took his hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Y/N.”

His heart skipped a beat, his cheeks flushing. “I—I’m Cinderella Choso,” he stammered, not sure where to look.

You smiled, your gaze lingering on him. Cinderella Choso felt a rush of heat flood his face under the intensity of your gaze. His hands fidgeted nervously at his sides, unsure of where to look.

“You look absolutely stunning tonight,” you said, your voice smooth and genuine, sending a pleasant shiver down his spine. The compliment made his heart race in his chest, and for a moment, he couldn’t find the words to respond.

His voice was soft, almost inaudible, as he mumbled, “T-Thank you... I—I’m not used to... being noticed.” His cheeks were burning now, and he wished he could shrink into the floor.

You chuckled lightly, your smile only growing warmer. “Would you care to dance?” you asked, your voice inviting.

Cinderella Choso hesitated, his mind racing as his heart hammered in his chest. It took him a moment to realize that he was actually standing there, face to face with you, and he still hadn’t said yes. Finally, after a long pause, he nodded, his hand trembling as he reached out to take yours.

As you led him to the center of the ballroom, the music swelled into a slow waltz, and he could feel the tension in his body, the unfamiliarity of the situation, the soft pressure of your hand in his. His heart drummed against his chest as you moved fluidly in rhythm with him. Your body was warm against his, your movements confident and graceful, but you never rushed him.

The dance wasn’t perfect, but with every step, you guided him, never letting him falter. You made him feel safe in the way you held him, steady and sure, your presence somehow grounding. When you looked at him, it wasn’t with judgment or expectation, but with genuine interest, like you were seeing him for who he truly was, beyond the awkwardness he felt.

“You’re doing just fine,” you whispered softly, your voice light, teasing him just a little. “I’m impressed.”

Cinderella Choso’s chest tightened, but not in discomfort. There was something about the way you made him feel—important, seen—that took away the nervous edge in his body. His smile was shy but genuine. “I’ve never danced like this before,” he admitted softly.

“Then I’m honored to be your first,” you said, your smile deepening. It wasn’t just kind—it was sincere. “We’ll make it memorable.”

You guided him with such care, as though it was second nature for you to put others at ease. The music slowed, but your hand stayed firmly on his back, the pressure warm and comforting. When the song ended, you didn’t pull away immediately. Instead, your fingers lingered on his hand, a soft touch that sent a strange warmth through him.

“Shall we get some air?” you asked, offering your arm.

Cinderella Choso nodded, his heart still racing. You led him through the grand hall, down a corridor that seemed to be untouched by the noise of the party. The castle was vast, but you knew it like the back of your hand, guiding him through secret passageways, showing him hidden corners.

The tension between you was thick, crackling with every glance, every touch. You weren’t making it obvious, but Cinderella Choso could feel it. It was in the way your fingers brushed his every now and then, in the soft smiles that lingered a little too long. He wasn’t sure if it was the intimacy of the moment or something else, but he couldn’t look away from you.

You led him outside to a secluded garden, bathed in moonlight. The scent of flowers was intoxicating, filling the air with a sense of magic, of something otherworldly. You took his hand again, pulling him gently along a narrow path that led to a hidden entrance behind thick vines. There, behind the foliage, was a secret garden—a place no one else knew about.

A beautiful pavilion stood in the center, its walls draped with delicate flowers, the entire structure seemingly carved from nature itself. Inside the pavilion, the floor was cushioned; and soft, fluffy pillows of various sizes scattered across the cozy bed. The space felt intimate, a retreat far away from the watchful eyes of the ballroom.

“This is…” Cinderella Choso’s voice trailed off, his heart skipping a beat as he took in the scene. It was serene, quiet, and so completely different from everything else in the castle. “Beautiful.”

You smiled, removed your shoes, and sat down on one of the larger pillows, motioning for him to join you. “It’s my secret hideaway. Only a few people know about it.” You patted the cushion beside you. “I come here when I need to think, to be alone.”

Cinderella Choso hesitated, then took off his heels and sat down beside you, close enough that he could feel the warmth of your body, but not quite close enough to touch. The silence between you two felt thick, comfortable, like you were both holding your breath.

“I’m glad you showed me this,” he said softly, finally breaking the silence. His voice was quiet, almost unsure, but sincere.

“Me too,” you replied, your voice lower now, almost intimate. “I don’t usually bring anyone here.”

Cinderella Choso turned to look at you, his heart beating faster at the intensity in your gaze. The world outside seemed distant, fading into nothing as you both stayed there, in this small, secret place. You leaned a little closer, and the tension in the air seemed to wrap around you both, like a fine thread drawing you closer.

The world outside could wait. Here, in this hidden garden, nothing mattered. Only the unspoken connection, the pull between you, the undeniable chemistry that was now crackling in the air.

“You know,” you said, voice low and teasing, “If you’re not careful, I might just keep you here forever.”

Cinderella Choso’s breath hitched, and for a moment, everything stopped. He was so close to you now, the distance between you two shrinking with every word, every breath. His pulse raced, and for the first time that night, he felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

The moment your lips met his, Cinderella Choso froze, his breath hitching in his throat. For a second, it seemed like he might pull away, his hands hovering uncertainly at your sides. Then, as if something gave way inside him, he grabbed your waist and kissed you back, his movements sudden and unrestrained.

At first, it was clumsy and rushed, his lips pressing hard against yours as if he wasn’t sure how to keep up with the storm of emotions. His breathing was uneven, shallow gasps breaking through the sounds of your kisses. His hands moved hesitantly but firmly, clutching at your waist and back, desperate to pull you closer.

You melted into him, your hands threading through his hair and pulling him even closer. You could feel his nervous energy in the way he moved, but it only made you smile against his lips. You tried to slow his pace, letting him match your rhythm, trying to ground his frantic energy with the soft, deliberate way your lips moved against his.

When he broke away to breathe, his face was bright red, and he couldn’t meet your eyes, his gaze darting everywhere but at you. You cupped his face gently, guiding him to look at you. “Choso,” you murmured softly, and his eyes widened, his blush deepening.

Before you could say anything more, he surged forward again, more determined this time. His kisses were rough and messy, his inexperience showing in the way his teeth grazed your lips and his hands fumbled to hold you. But you didn’t mind—it was raw, unfiltered, and so very him.

You let out a soft gasp as his lips found your neck, his movements hurried and unpracticed. Your hand slid down to his back, soothing the tension in his shoulders, your touch steadying him as he pressed closer.

Still, whenever he glanced at you, his shyness crept back, softening his frantic movements for just a second before his hands and lips found you again. You tilted his chin up, brushing your thumb over his flushed cheek, and his trembling grip on you tightened in response.

Suddenly, Choso pushed you down on the cushioned floor and climbed on top of you. His wayward tongue grew more unruly in your warm mouth, his actions sending heated shivers to your core. He mewled through his erratic kisses as his fumbling, frantic hands began pulling at your clothes and undressing you.

His movements were quick, almost frenzied, as if driven by a force he couldn’t control. Your royal attire almost tore as he threw it to the garden floor. He pulled back for just a moment, and you opened your eyes only to see the wild, frantic look in his eyes, wide and unblinking, filled with raw urgency and need, as if he couldn’t bear to wait another moment.

His eyes were locked onto the delicate curves of your frame, his gaze particularly lingering on the flushed swell of your breasts and the hardened nipples. His eyes followed his hands as they shamelessly traveled every which way on your body making you gasp out in pleasure. Choso was panting above you, his chest rising and falling as unrestrained desire flickered in his eyes, and it made you shiver with excitement.

His hands moved to his own clothes next. Choso fumbled with the fabric of his dress, his movements rushed and impatient, tugging at the delicate seams and buttons crafted by Sukuna’s magic. He huffed in frustration, tugging harder, and managed to peel off a few layers of the dress. The outer fabric loosened, revealing the smooth undershirt beneath, but the enchanted material still resisted fully giving way. Despite his best efforts, only parts of the intricate outfit now hung messily off his shoulders.

Noticing the frustration on his face, you gently called out through your heavy breaths, "He-hey, slow down. There's no need to rush."

But as if your voice had yanked the beast's attention back to you, Choso's head snapped in your direction. You don't know what happened next, or how, but Choso's mouth was back on your skin. His undershirt joined your clothes on the ground, and a manic, whimpering Choso was pressing kisses all over you. Biting and sucking on your skin, he was leaving large hickeys and bruises as his mouth travelled lower and lower until he found your leaking pussy.

Choso whined loudly, and the vibrations sent jolts of electricity to the steadily building coil in your core. Your entire body shuddered as though someone had pulled your soul out when he started sucking your folds with full force. It felt as if he was making out with your pussy in the same rough and messy way he was kissing you moments ago, his ceaseless actions stimulating your clit as well.

It felt like your mind was unraveling, every coherent thought dissolving into the overwhelming sensation that consumed you. Your flickering gaze drooped down to Choso. His ears and neck were flushed red, eyes tightly screwed shut, with moans and deep groans escaping his lips as if he was the one receiving pleasure, and maybe he was.

It was getting too much, the overwhelming feeling was unbearable. You forced words out of your half-open mouth, trying your best to sound lucid, "Ch-cho... Choso s-stop. Slow down b-baby, 's too much..."

Your voice comes out shaky and breathless. But it's as if your words are swallowed by the air between you, his movements remain relentless, driven by an intensity that seems to blind him to everything else. Your protests falter, mingling with your uneven breaths, as his focus stays singular, unwavering, like he’s caught in a trance that nothing can break.

His tongue thrusts into your quivering hole, as his nose keeps on nudging the sensitive nerves of your clit. He was so shy at first. You didn't think he had much experience in these affairs when you brought him to the hidden garden, but his performance was making you second guess. Still, he seemed inexperienced with how uncoordinated, aimless and chaotic his movements were. But the sheer force in his actions made stars flicker behind your eyes.

The pleasure surged through you, sharp and unrelenting, until it overtook every part of you. Your body tensed, trembling uncontrollably, as your thoughts fragment into nothingness. It’s too much—blinding, deafening, overwhelming—until your mind can no longer keep up. Your senses give way, and the world around you vanishes, leaving you in a black void of sensation.

Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, the warmth still buzzing under your skin. A fleeting moment of clarity starts to settle. Fuck, that was just from going down on you?—

But your thoughts are cut off as the sound of clothes rustling suddenly joins the deep, uneven breaths filling the garden.

You open your eyes to see Choso hastily yanking down his slacks and panties in one swift motion, the fabric bunching around his knees. Your eyes fixate on something else, unable to look away. It's beautiful, unlike anything you've seen before.

His cock that sprang out was a pretty cherry pink colour, with veins that trace along his shaft like rivers. Silky smooth skin covered the slight upward curve of his length. The head was a flushed, angry red, as though the heat had spread from within, coloring it with a deep, vivid hue. It pulsed with intensity, a clear sign of the tension building beneath the surface, with his precum dripping from the slit. And the size—wait. No, this can't be right. It's too much. He's massive.

Your eyes widen in realization, a wave of panic suddenly washing over you. Your hands grip the sheets as a small shred of fear claws at your chest, pulling you back to reality. No, no, no—this won't work. It won’t fit. You scramble away from Choso, twisting your body as you quickly turn on your knees to distance yourself. But you feel his hand grip your ankle and yank your body straight back to him.

Your back is pressed against his chest as you feel Choso's entire body weight press down on you, pinning you in place and leaving you unable to move. Then you feel two things sink into you, Choso's teeth in your shoulder and his massive cock in your pussy. Tears prickle at the corner of your eyes as his size overwhelms you, stretching you far beyond what you're accustomed to. It's almost too much, your body tensing as it struggles to accomodate the intensity of him. Each movement only deepens the sensation, both pain and pleasure pushing you to the edge of what you can handle.

A deep guttural groan echoes from Choso's throat straight into your ear. He completely stills for a moment as if he too seems to need some time to adjust to the feeling of being inside you. Then he's rambling, babbling in his pussydrunk state.

Choso's voice was shaky, breath coming in quick gasps as he muttered, "This—this feels so good... so tight... can't... can't get enough of you." His hands gripped the sheets, knuckles white, his words slipping out in a desperate breathless rush. "You feel... incredible. I don't know how much longer I can... this is—this is everything... "

Choso starts plunging into you, his hips snapping against yours, each movement fast, hard and deep. The familiar tightness slowly takes hold in your core. With every thrust the pain melted away and only mind numbing pleasure remained.

Your words tumble out in a frantic, incoherent rush, your body trembling as you clung to the sheets. "I... can't... so good, Choso, feels too good... please, don't stop... don't stop, please..." Your voice was shaky, breathy, barely above a whisper, as if the sensation was overwhelming your every thought.

You're practically mewling as each wave of pleasure blurs the edges of reality, leaving you teetering on the brink of madness. Your body trembles uncontrollably, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as if you were drowning in ecstasy. The intensity was almost too much, a raw, primal force that left you clutching desperately at the remnants of your sanity.

Your body moves against him on it's own, joining in on his rhythm. Choso moans in your ears, and the voice sends more uncontrollable shivers to your core. You force your eyes open as much as you could through the haze of your blinding pleasure and turn your head to the side to look at him. Choso was completely feral, his expression raw and intense. You swore you could see hearts in his eyes, his gaze burning with something wild. His cheeks were flushed a deep red, and he was moaning and whimpering, while mercilessly thrusting in and out of you. He was completely out of control.

His sheer size was making you feel everything as his cock slid against you, reaching every corner and hitting your sweet spot again and again. Your pleasure builds hard and fast, and snaps before you could comprehend it. Your mouth hangs slightly open, drool escaping and pooling on the sheets below your cheek as your head spins with overwhelming pleasure. Your thoughts are scattered, each sensation mixing together, leaving your brain in a muddled haze, unable to focus on anything but the dizzying rush of pleasure flooding your senses.

You orgasm sets off Choso's own as your pussy tightens around him, trembling and quivering, and he cums inside you with a loud moan while giving slow, messy thrusts. The warm liquid pools inside, filling you, and spills out around the base of his cock and on the sheets. Tears stain Choso's cheeks as he starts crying, sniffles and sobs mixing with his moans, and you feel the warm drops on your shoulder.

Both yours and Choso's breaths come in ragged, uneven bursts. Your haze is slowly about to lift, and the trembling in your limbs was just about to subside, but Choso flips you over to face him and starts moving again. He's still hard inside you despite his powerful orgasm and how much he came. His movements pick up their speed, and he whines while sliding in and out of you.

Overstimulation grips your body, and you squirm and thrash underneath him. Choso grips your hips to force your body still as he moves faster and deeper inside you. "Choso... i-it's... too much," you gasp.

He leans down and pecks your lips, and breathes into your mouth, "I know... me too..." before capturing your lips in a deep, bruising kiss. His desperate actions over you don't stop, whining through his own overstimulation, as he pulls multiple orgasms out of you till you lose count and your highs start bleeding into each other.

Every time your vision goes black because of pleasure, and you drift in and out of consciousness in exhaustion, Choso fills you up with his sticky seed till you overflow and he's shooting blanks, while pressing kisses all over your body. This goes on for what feels like an eternity, and your body felt completely drained, every muscle heavy and limp, yet there was a comforting warmth that enveloped you, a deep sense of contentment, your mind floating in a blissful haze.

Choso, now calmer and free from his earlier fluster, was covering you with gentle kisses, murmuring soft "I love you"s as you lay there, blissfully tired and unable to move. His touch was tender, each kiss filled with quiet affection, as if he was trying to memorize every moment.

Suddenly, the deep toll of the palace bell echoed through the night. Choso froze, his eyes widening in alarm as he remembered fairy godmother Sukuna's warning—3 a.m. was the deadline, and the magic would soon start unraveling.

Panic flickered across his face as he sat up abruptly. “I have to go,” he whispered, his voice thick with urgency and regret.

You reached out weakly, your fingers brushing his arm. “Wait... wait till morning,” you mumbled, your voice slurred with exhaustion. There was more you wanted to say—something about a curse, about needing him to stay—but the words came out as incoherent murmurs, fragments of a plea lost in the haze of your tiredness.

Choso hesitated, his expression torn, but the chime of the bell spurred him into action. He scrambled off the pavilion, hastily pulling on his dress. He paused for a moment, looking back at you with a mix of longing and sorrow.

“I love you,” he said one last time, his voice soft but firm, before slipping out of the garden and into the night.

The next morning arose with a bright yellow glow from the east. You stir in the sheets of the pavilion, before slowly opening your eyes to the beautifully painted glass ceiling. The birds were chirping in the hidden garden, and the scent of the numerous flowers swirled in the air.

The memories of the night before came rushing to your mind, every fragment crystal clear except one: his face. You had tried your best, through your exhaustion, to get Cinderella Choso to stay with you till you could see him again in the morning, but he left anyway.

You tried to tell him—to get but a word in—that you were cursed. A long time ago, a lady of magic, offended by the king, had cursed her only heir: you. According to the curse, every morning, you forgot each and every face you saw the day before, including your own.

It was a well-guarded royal secret that only a few were privy to. And you wanted the man who stole your heart (along with the strength in your legs) to know it too. He was gone now, and it would be difficult to find him with just a name without the face. But there's something else you remember, something that even a curse couldn't erase from your mind: his beautiful, glistening pink dick.

Scrambling out of the sheets and into your clothes, before smoothing your hair down the best you could to make yourself somewhat presentable, you stepped out of the garden and went to the palace in search of your aide.

The air in the aide’s office was heavy with the scent of parchment and ink, the flicker of candlelight illuminating his focused face as he worked through a stack of documents. He barely looked up as you entered, his pen scratching against the paper.

“Where did you disappear off to last night?” he asked, his tone curious but not pressing.

You waved a dismissive hand, brushing off the question. “It’s not important,” you replied, stepping closer. “I need you to summon the royal painter immediately.”

The aide blinked, finally setting down his pen to look at you fully. “The royal painter? What for?”

“Just do it,” you said, your tone brooking no argument. His brow furrowed, but he nodded, reaching for the small bell on his desk to summon a servant to deliver the orders.

Moments later, the royal painter, an older man with streaks of grey in his beard, shuffled into the room, looking a little confused.

The painter gave a short bow, his expression perplexed. “Your Highness, what service do you require?”

You stepped forward, clasping your hands together in determination. “I need you to paint something from my memory,” you said, your voice steady. “A man’s dick.”

The painter sputtered and blinked rapidly, visibly startled by the peculiar request. “A p-penis, Your Highness?”

“Yes,” you confirmed, your tone leaving no room for doubt. “It’s vital.”

Though clearly appalled and confused, the painter nodded, pulling out his tools and setting to work as you described every detail of Cinderella Choso’s cock. You spoke with precision, recalling the faint lines on his shaft, the slight upward curve of his length, the veins running along the length, the pinkish red flushed head that was a darker shade than the rest of this cock, and the soft sheen of his skin. The painter’s expression grew more incredulous with each stroke, but he remained silent, committed to the task.

When he finished, you scrutinized the painting, your heart leaping at how perfectly he had captured it. “Good,” you said with a nod. “Now make several copies of it. As many as you can manage within the next hour.”

The painter hesitated, glancing at the aide as if hoping for an explanation. When none came, he sighed and got to work, summoning his apprentices to assist.

As you waited, a royal guard entered the room, bowing deeply. “Your Highness, the King has summoned you to the throne room.”

You inhaled sharply, straightening your posture. “Very well,” you said, smoothing your attire once more. “I’ll return shortly,” you told the aide before following the guard out.

The throne room was as grand as ever, the King seated at its center. Her piercing gaze bore into you as you entered, the tension in the air palpable. “You’re late,” she said, her voice sharp.

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” you said, offering a polite bow.

The King leaned forward, her expression severe. “I summoned you to discuss a matter of great importance. The princess I told you of last night, of the neighboring kingdom, the one you danced with at the start—he would make a fine royal spouse. The union would strengthen our ties and secure our future.”

You hesitated, the memory of Cinderella Choso flashing through your mind. “I met someone last night,” you said, your voice unwavering. “I fell in love with him, and I’ve decided I’m going to marry him.”

The King’s expression darkened, frustration evident. “You would throw away a carefully arranged alliance for some man you met at a ball? Do you even know who he is?”

“I do not,” you admitted, “but I will find him.”

The King’s hand clenched the arm of her throne, her face reddening. “You’re being reckless,” she snapped. “This marriage is crucial to the kingdom’s future!”

“Then perhaps you should have been clearer about that before inviting every eligible suitor to the ball,” you retorted calmly.

"Besides, with the amount of cum inside me right now, I doubt any kingdom would want to marry off their princess to me when my belly swells in a few months." You add with a faint smirk on your calm face.

"You!" The king's anger reached its peak, and before you could say another word, she clutched her chest, her face twisting in pain. “Your Majesty!” a servant cried, rushing to her side as she collapsed into the throne.

You didn’t linger. Turning on your heel, you left the chaos behind, your resolve unshaken.

By the time you reached the training grounds, the knights were gathered in neat rows, their polished armor clinking softly as they practiced their drills. You held up the paintings in your hands, ensuring they all saw the image clearly.

“This is the man I’m looking for,” you announced, your voice carrying across the courtyard. “Compare this painting to the dick of every man in the kingdom. Find him, no matter how long it takes.”

The knights saluted in unison, determination in their eyes as they accepted their copies.

Turning to the aide, who had followed you silently, you gave your next order. “Make an announcement,” you said. “Tell the kingdom I met a man at the ball last night, and he’s stolen my heart. We’ll find him with these paintings. Any man whose dick matches the image will be married to me.”

The aide hesitated, his brow furrowing in concern. “Your Highness, are you certain—” Although he was used to your antics by now, this one was far too ridiculous to not question.

“Do it,” you interrupted, your tone leaving no room for doubt.

As the knights dispersed and the aide hurried off to carry out your orders, you felt a strange mix of determination and trepidation. Somewhere out there, Cinderella Choso was waiting—and you wouldn’t rest until he was by your side once more.

The days turned into weeks, the search spanning every corner of the kingdom. The knights traveled tirelessly, comparing the painting of the glistening cock to every eligible man they encountered, but no match had been found. Each negative report brought a growing sense of worry, a restlessness that kept you pacing through the corridors of the palace late into the night. The weight of your promise pressed heavily on your shoulders. What if you had lost him forever?

Finally, the aide presented the list of remaining houses. “This is the last one,” he said, handing you the parchment with a weary expression.

Your eyes scanned the address. A modest home tucked into the farthest corner of the kingdom. The final hope.

“I’m going with them,” you declared. The aide opened his mouth to protest, but your determined gaze silenced him. The next morning, you rode out with the knights, the journey long and arduous as the distant town came into view.

Meanwhile, in that very house, Stepmother Kenjaku paced the floor, his long robes rustling with every turn. The news of the prince's search had reached even the farthest corners, and Kenjaku was determined to seize the opportunity. He had spent weeks preparing his two daughters, Eso and Kechizu, for the inevitable visit.

“You must be perfect,” he told them sternly, inspecting their dicks. Eso winced as Kenjaku pressed a scale to his cock, the length was far from satisfactory. Kechizu groaned in frustration as another mixture of oils and creams was slathered onto his dick in a desperate attempt to make it more appealing.

“Remember,” Kenjaku said with a wicked grin, “if one of you marries the prince, we’ll live in the palace, and our troubles will be over.”

“Yes, Mother,” they chimed in unison, their faces contorting into forced smiles.

When the knock finally came, Kenjaku hurried to the door, his heart racing. He opened it with a deep bow, his oily charm seeping through every word. “Your Highness, what an honor! Please, come in!”

You stepped inside, your knights following as Kenjaku led you to a modest sitting area in the hall. You settled into the soft couch, your posture regal despite the humble surroundings.

“These are my daughters, Eso and Kechizu,” Kenjaku announced with exaggerated pride as the two boys stepped forward, their hands clasped demurely before them.

You glanced at their faces and had to fight the urge to recoil. The sharp angles of their features and their overly powdered skin were anything but appealing. Their forced grins only made them look more unsettling.

“They’re definitely not the man I’m looking for,” you said flatly, not even bothering to compare the painting. “There’s no need.”

Kenjaku’s smile faltered, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Are you sure, Your Highness? They’ve been preparing—”

Your sharp gaze cut him off. “According to the records, there are three daughters in this household.”

Kenjaku’s expression tightened, but he quickly masked his displeasure with a nervous laugh. “Ah, the third,” he said dismissively, waving a hand. “He's not truly my daughter, Your Highness. A stepchild of my late husband from her first marriage, nothing more than a servant. Hardly worthy of your attention.”

“Call him anyway,” you ordered, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Kenjaku hesitated for a moment before turning to a nearby servant and barking out the order. Moments later, the sound of footsteps descending a creaking staircase filled the air.

When Cinderella Choso appeared, your breath caught in your throat. His disheveled hair framed his face, strands sticking out wildly, and a smudge of ash darkened his cheek. He wore a simple maid’s outfit, the hem fraying slightly at the edges, but none of that mattered.

The moment you saw him, the memory of that night came flooding back in its entirety. His face—his beautiful, soft features, the gentle curve of his lips, and the warmth in his eyes—had been restored in your mind as if the curse had never taken hold. He was the man you’d fallen for, the man whose cock you had spent weeks searching for.

Cinderella Choso looked up slowly, his expression a mixture of caution and something softer—a quiet joy that flickered to life the moment his eyes met yours. A faint blush rose to his cheeks, his lips parting slightly in surprise as he instinctively ducked his head, his hand brushing nervously against the hem of his apron.

“Why... why is the prince here?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. Though confusion lingered in his tone, there was an unmistakable warmth in his gaze, as if he couldn’t quite believe you were standing before him.

You maintained your composure, though your chest tightened at the sight of him. Giving no sign that you recognized him, you said firmly, “I will personally check him,” standing from the couch with an air of authority.

Kenjaku’s eyes widened in alarm, but he quickly plastered a thin smile on his face. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

Cinderella Choso’s blush deepened, his dark eyes darting between you and the knights before returning to you, lingering just a moment longer than before. His fingers twitched nervously, and he bit his lip, a flicker of shy delight breaking through his confusion.

You stepped closer, your gaze steady and unwavering as it met his. “Where is your room?” you asked, your voice calm but commanding.

“The... attic,” he replied hesitantly, his words faltering under the weight of the moment. His hand rose as if to gesture toward the stairs, but he paused, seeming momentarily flustered by your nearness.

“Lead the way,” you instructed, your tone firm but not unkind.

Cinderella Choso nodded, his movements tentative but obedient. His face was still tinged with a soft pink hue as he turned toward the staircase. There was something in the way he carried himself—a nervous energy paired with a quiet joy, as though he were both overwhelmed and thrilled to have you in his home.

You followed him, your heart pounding in your chest with every step as the narrow staircase creaked beneath your feet.

As you ascended the creaking staircase, the air between you grew heavier, laden with unspoken emotions and tension. The narrow space seemed to close in, your footsteps echoing softly behind him.

Cinderella Choso’s shoulders were tense, his fingers gripping the hem of his apron as if it were his lifeline. His head was slightly bowed, and his messy hair shifted with every step he took. You watched him closely, the faint blush still dusting his cheeks, the nervous sway in his movements unmistakable.

Breaking the silence, you spoke, your voice low but clear. “I hope you remember me.”

Cinderella Choso froze mid-step, his foot slipping slightly on the next stair. He let out a startled squeak, his hands flailing briefly before he caught himself against the bannister. “Y-yes!” he stammered, the word escaping his lips in a hurried rush. His voice cracked slightly, and his entire body seemed to jolt with embarrassment.

But he didn’t look back.

His ears were burning red now, the flush creeping down his neck as he straightened up and hurried the rest of the way. His steps were uneven, almost frantic, as though the very act of facing you might undo him completely.

You bit back a smile, watching him fumble, his shyness endearing in a way that only made your heart ache more for him.

The attic was dimly lit, with only a small window letting in a pale stream of light that softened the space. Despite its modest size, the room was neat and organized, every corner reflecting a quiet diligence. A small dressing table stood to the side, its surface polished clean, with a few simple trinkets placed meticulously. A wardrobe leaned against the wall, slightly worn but sturdy, and a collection of books was stacked neatly in one corner.

The bed, just barely large enough to accommodate Cinderella Choso's broad frame, was tucked under the window, a faded but clean rug beside it. The air was still, carrying the faint scent of the ash smudged on his cheek and the warmth of the space he'd made his own.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, it was as if the world fell away. All pretense dissolved in an instant. You stepped toward him, and he barely had time to process before your lips were on his, the kiss urgent and consuming.

Cinderella Choso froze for the briefest moment, his body stiffening. But then his hands found your waist, and he melted into you, a soft whimper escaping him. His touch held the same urgency as the night of the ball, trembling slightly, but the sheer need in him breaking through his shyness.

Your hands roamed his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath your fingertips. His lips were warm, slightly chapped, but they moved against yours with increasing desperation. Your arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer, as though you feared he might disappear again.

Together, you tumbled onto the bed, his weight sinking into the mattress as he fell back. The window's light framed his flushed face, his hair falling messily around him as his wide eyes met yours. His breaths were shallow, his chest rising and falling quickly, but his hands never left you, roaming across your back, your hips, your thighs, like he couldn’t bear to let go.

Breaking from the kiss, you hovered above him, your breath mingling with his as you stared into his wide, vulnerable eyes. “Why did you leave that night?” you asked, your voice trembling, not with anger, but with a deep, aching hurt. “I told you to stay.”

Cinderella Choso looked away, his cheeks flushed as if the memory stung him even now. His hands rested on your waist, his grip firm but gentle, grounding him. “I... I didn’t want to,” he admitted softly, his voice raw with regret. “But I didn’t have a choice. It was magic.”

Your brows furrowed, confusion flickering across your face. He hesitated for a moment, then continued, his words tumbling out nervously, as though he feared you wouldn’t believe him. “The fairy godmother gave me everything for one night—just until 3 a.m. After that, everything... everything would go back to the way it was. My clothes, my life, all of it. I had to leave before it all unraveled.”

His gaze flicked back to you, searching for your reaction, his face tinged with shame. “I didn’t want you to see me like that,” he whispered. “I wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place.”

You studied him for a long moment, your hand cupping his cheek, thumb brushing over the faint smudge of ash still there. “Believe me, I know,” you said, your voice laced with understanding, a sad smile tugging at your lips.

His brows knit in confusion, but you shook your head gently, your fingers tracing the soft line of his jaw. “That’s a story for later,” you said softly, leaning in to press another kiss to his lips. Whatever questions he had about your words or your curse could wait. Right now, you were here, together, and that was all that mattered.

Just like that your roaming hands were back on each other again. Cinderella Choso kissed you with more fervour than before. His lips frantically moved against yours. His tongue slipped inside, the soft muscle gliding and tangling with your tongue.

Your breathing grew shallower, and your heart thundered in your chest as Choso's soft, desperate whimpers filled the air. His hands fumbled at the buttons of your coat, trembling as he worked to undo them, his touch clumsy with need.

But you caught his wrists, stopping him in his tracks. “Uh-uh,” you said, your voice firm, though a teasing smile tugged at your lips. “I’m not letting what happened that night occur again. You went wild, Cho—You'll let me call you that, won't you? I’d like to leave this house walking on my own two legs if I can help it.”

His eyes widened, his face flushing a deep crimson as he sputtered, “I-I didn’t mean—”

You silenced him with a quick peck on his lips before reaching for a piece of cloth from his wardrobe. His confusion deepened as you looped the fabric around his wrists, tying them securely to the headboard.

“Wha—what are you doing?” he stammered, his voice trembling with equal parts apprehension and excitement.

You smirked, leaning close so your breath ghosted over his ear. “Maintaining some control over the situation this time,” you said, your tone playful yet commanding. “I think we both know you lose all sense of restraint when you’re left to your own devices.”

Cinderella Choso whimpered, his hands tugging weakly at the bindings as you straddled him. His eyes darted down to his maid outfit, and he seemed suddenly hyper-aware of the fabric against his skin.

Taking a moment, you leaned back slightly, your gaze trailing over him appreciatively. “You know,” you said, tilting your head as your lips curved into a grin, “You look really cute like this.”

His blush deepened, and he turned his head away shyly. “D-Don’t tease me...”

“Oh, I’m not teasing,” you replied, your fingers tracing the ruffled hem of his skirt. “We could do this from time to time—have you wear something like this again.”

Cinderella Choso’s wide eyes snapped back to yours, his lips parting in a silent gasp. His embarrassed whimper made you chuckle softly, leaning down to kiss him again, savoring the way he melted beneath you, utterly at your mercy.

You pulled at the knot of his apron, undoing the fabric. Your hand slid to the back of his neck, slowly unzipping the dress, and he shivered at the touch. You give him a sweet, soft smile but the look in your eyes betrayed what you were about to do next. His eyes grew wide with panic and anticipation, his lips parting slightly as he took in small breaths.

You quickly slip his dress off next and settle between his legs. His pretty white panties had a not so innocent wet spot that only grew larger in size the longer you looked at it. Choso lets out a small whine and your devilish gaze met his excited, wide-eyed stare.

"Wha—what are you going to do?" He stammered, and his eyes dart between your lips and the bulge in his panties that was peeking through the translucent fabric.

You grin even wider and chirp, "Exactly what you're thinking right now."

Choso gasps when you pull down his panties, and his hardened cock springs out. It looks exactly like you remembered it—big and smooth with a gorgeous pink tint that's redder at the head. The paintings didn't do justice, the real thing was much better.

You bring your hand up to touch his tip and he shivers. Choso was trying his best to stay still, anticipating what's to come. But when you softly kiss the tip of his cock, his entire body shudders. A loud, high-pitched moan escapes his lips when you sink down your mouth on his length as much as you could.

You use all your strength to tightly grip his thighs with both of your hands, forcing him to stay still while you bring your head up and then glide it back down, taking him deeper this time.

The head of his cock touches the back of your throat and you slightly gag. Your eyes glisten with tears, but you don't stop. You start bobbing your head up and down on his length, which elicits a series of strangled moans and gasps from choso.

Your lips slide up his length, a mix of your spit and his precum covering the shaft. You suck at his head, then hollow your cheeks and go back down. Your actions pick up their pace, head rapidly bobbing, adding to his building pleasure.

With a loud cry, choso cums. The warm liquid that filled your mouth was salty with a slight sweet taste. Your hand replaces your mouth, moving up and down, helping him ride out his high.

You look up at him. His eyes are tightly shut, mouth parted as his chest heaves with the deep breaths. As he calms down, his half-open lidded eyes meet yours. You sweetly smile at him and tease, "Did you like that?"

Choso turned his head to the side and tried to hide his face in his bound arms, flushing this time with embarrassment.

"Yes," he muttered in a small, shy voice.

He then asks, "Are you going to untie me now?"

You shake your head, a playful smile on your lips. "Nope. We're not done yet."

You sit up and start unbuttoning your clothes. Choso's eyes follow your every action as you slip out of your coat, your shirt, and then your pants. You're sitting above him, straddling him, with nothing but your underwear on. Choso's eyes seem too bulge out of his head, and his ears burn redder at your half-naked form, as if he hadn't already seen it before.

You take off your bra next and your breasts spill out. Choso's gaze is fixed on the sight, then trails down to your panties and the noticable wet patch on it. You pull them down, there's a lewd string of your slick connecting to the fabric. Choso gulps at the sight, his Adam's apple bobs on his throat.

"Would you like a taste, my sweet Cho?" You tilt your head and drawl while looking at him. He nods frantically at your words, whining desperately.

"You're so big baby, and as much as I love it, you'll have to loosen me up a little before I take you inside, yeah?" Choso blushes at your words and whimpers, "Ye-yes, please."

You rise and move up to his shoulders, placing your legs on each side and settle your pussy down on his face, careful not to smother him.

Choso moans softly as he eagerly starts licking at the slick dripping down on his tongue. His knuckles turn white the moment his bound hands grip the headboard tightly. His eyes are closed, face flushed like a plum, and his soft whines and groans fill the air, mixing with your moans of pleasure. He looks so obscenely gorgeous between your legs.

Choso's tongue laps at your folds. You reach down and push your fingers in your pussy, and start pumping them in and out in an attempt to stretch yourself out. Choso sucks and lightly bites at your clit and it sends jolts of electricity down your spine. Your back arches as you push yourself deeper to his mouth, the coil in your core ready to snap. You're close, so close.

Choso lets out a low groan, sending vibrations to your sensitive flesh. He's hard again, precum dripping from the slit. He bucks his hips up when he gives a harsh suck to your clit that sends you spiralling, waves after waves of pleasure washing over you as you hit your high. You get off him and collapse to the side, both of you panting side by side.

You don't waste another moment; getting up and aligning your warm, sensitive pussy with his dripping cock and sink down on him, overstimulation be damned. A loud whiny moan echoes in the room, coming from you or him you don't know.

Once you started bouncing on him, Choso felt as though every inch of his skin was alive, buzzing with a heat so powerful it left him dizzy. His mind felt hazy, thoughts muddled, unable to cling to any single thread of rationality. The pleasure overwhelmed him entirely, a thick fog of sensation clouding every rational thought, as if his brain were melting beneath the weight of it, leaving only pure, unfiltered bliss.

Your warm, tight, wet cunt gripping him like a vice felt like it was milking him dry. You lean back, your palms resting on his thighs behind you as you use all your strength to ride him. Your breasts bounce with every movement, and the view is so lewd for our poor baby Choso that he feels like he's gonna cum right then and there.

You through your head back, mouth open as you drool and pant above him. All that sword training paid off, because you couldn't possibly have lasted without all the built up stamina. Choso's loud moans and groans, mixed with your own, ring in your ears, adding to your lust and fueling you to go faster and harder.

Choso throws his head back into the pillow, hands holding the headboard in an iron-grip, as his biceps flex and abs tightens, and he cums hard. His ropey liquid filling you up, and you follow right after, still riding him through both your orgasms.

You pant hard, body slacking to the side, and you look at him while you try to catch your breath. Choso is a mess, tears and drool is dripping from the sides of his face. His jaw is slack, and his face, neck and chest is flushed red. Little sobs escape his lips along with the gasps.

You quickly move to untie the cloth around his hands and collapse on top of him. You hold him close as you pepper his face with kisses. "You okay, baby?" You ask in a soft voice. But just then, before you could react, Choso flips you over. He's looking down at you with the same crazed look in his eyes that he had the night of the ball. Fuck! You made a mistake untying him.

Choso pins both your wrists above your head with one hand, and grips one of your legs up with the other, before thrusting himself back into you. "Cho-choso!?" You call out, startled. His eyes are blown wide with a wild look in them, no coherent thought behind the gaze.

"M-more... more pl-please. Not enough... This is not enough... need more..." He babbles. So you weren't walking out of this house on your own after all. The pleasure he gave you that night was soul-crushingly good, and you loved every moment of it. As much as you want it again right now, there's an entire knight squad waiting for you downstairs, dammit.

He holds you down while ramming his cock deep inside with full strength. His thrusts get meaner with each stroke, pumping pleasure out of you. He leans down, shoving his tongue in your slack mouth, swallowing all your moans. Oh fuck it! The knights can wait.

Each pulse of pleasure that rolled through you felt like a wave of heat, washing away any coherent thought. Your body trembled, each nerve alive, and your mind seemed to blur, its sharp edges softening into nothingness. Every sensation was amplified, the euphoria so intense that it felt like your very mind was being devoured by the pleasure, each wave more intoxicating than the last.

Choso didn’t stop, not until both of you were exhausted and sticky with sweat and cum that came from all the countless orgasms, the intensity of the moment lingering in the air between you. His movements were relentless, driven by an overwhelming need, and each time you thought he might slow down, he only pushed forward.

It was like that night all over again. You drifted in and out of the haze clouding you with each mind numbing high. The sun was setting when you both finally stopped, the golden light spilling through the window and casting a warm glow over everything. The room, once filled with the erratic energy, now felt quiet, the fading daylight creating a peaceful contrast to the intensity that had come before.

Choso was sleeping peacefully on top of you, his soft breaths rising and falling gently against your chest. His weight, comforting and familiar, made your heart swell with adoration. You watched him, his face serene in sleep, so different from his earlier untamed frenzy, and a wave of tenderness washed over you as you held him closer, not wanting to move, wanting to cherish the moment forever.

In the following days, the kingdom buzzed with excitement, preparations for the royal marriage taking center stage. The streets were filled with banners and flowers, and the air was thick with anticipation. Cinderella Choso, now at your side, was treated with the same reverence as any princess, though his gentle nature remained unchanged. You spent your days together, savoring the quiet moments, laughing, and talking about the future; and with his cock buried deep inside you when no one was around.

The royal wedding was a grand affair, a celebration of not just your union, but the love that had brought you both together. As the days passed, you realized that the magic and curse had only led you to something far greater than you could have imagined.

And so, with Choso by your side, you lived happily ever after, finding a peace that had once seemed impossible.

---

Check out the m.list. Which one should I write next?

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»»———-　....................　———-««

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

[proud-cloud]

Three Cheers for sweet revenge plot song by song according to me

My credentials are that uhmm ive listened to this album like weekly since i was like 12 and uhm im taking english A-Level (crime and tragedy) sooooo

Full disclaimer i could do a line by line analysis on pretty much all of these songs but then this would be stupidly long so im just touching on the points or lyrics i think are most important for the plot! Oh and i cant spell and im trieddd of writing academic essays so im kinda yapping ngl

HELENA

honestly i barely have anything to say here but i imagine its the demo woman’s funeral (yes ik its abt Gerard ways grandma but let me cook) kind of setting the tone and exploring his grief, creating the circumstances for his deal with the devil - especially in the bridge.

GIVE EM HELL KID

Ok so here!! Is where i start to have more to say!! So in my head the man (im just gonna call them tje man and the woman or like he/she from here on) has accepted the deal with satan to kill 1000 evil men and is basically on a killing spree? So from my immense medical knowledge of watching house im preity sure epidrene is a steroid, which like gives him energy (interestingly ive been on them a few times for asthma and they have a long list of mental side effects such as uhhh mania (fall out boy whooo) anxiety and depression which maybe foreshadows his sorta insanity towards the end as his guilt haunts him) acting as a symbol of his immense motivation to see his wife again, so verse one especially is before his downfall where hes like yippee killing people to see my wife again!! The chorus i imagine is sang by both him and the woman in heaven as they both long for each other uhm and later on in the song it does seem as if hes begining to kind of loose it a bit due to his grief? kind of foreshadowing his well everything later on in the album. In the bridge i imagine hes kind of mocking their teenage selves (linking to im not okay later on) especially in the line “we are young and we dont care” criticicing their hopefullness by comparing it to their current circumstance - ironic as it only gets worse from here.

TO THE END

Now i know this is based on a rose for emily (i tried to read it and there were a LOT of slurs from what i remeber so that was yeah) but for the sake of my silly little narrative were kinda just not gonna touch on that. So here i believe the man has been set to kill this couple, just to find the wife has killed her husband (with the “cyanide you drank” i assume) which drives him into a sort of crisis, questioning if this was what would have happened to him and his wife if she had lived and they had stayed married for this long (fueling his sexuality crisis in prison). I could go so much further into this, especially language wise but for the sake of everyones sanity ill leave it here :)

YOU KNOW WHAT THEY DO TO GUYS LIKE US IN PRISION

so hes literally in the middle of a gunfight in the centre of a resturant and the police come and theyre like come with ur arms raised high and ok so!!! Theres many people who could explain this better than me but the man gets arrested for killing all these people and gets sent to jailllll. Ive heard some people talk about it as an allegory for SA in prison and others who talk abt it as him realising his gay/bi ect and honestly i can see both. I really like the line “too much to late or just not enough of this, pain in my heart for your dying wish, i kiss your lips again!” Which, running with the latter intrepretation, suggests hes feeling regret for all the murdering hes done and is questioning if he ever did love his wife this much, and if he should move on and fix his mistakes. So to make a long story short he has a sexuality crisis in prision! Toward the end, he escapes prision and with his “friends” from jail, lilely from setting it on “fire” (i got the friends bit from the lyric “but ill go down with my friends”) escaping jail but at the cost of further loosing his sanity and grasp on morality.

IM NOT OKAY (I PROMISE)

for conveniences sake he either gets knocked out (the giggles at the end of prision i guess beinf from a concussion or something?) or just like goes to sleep somehwhere after the prison break with the other ex inmates and has a flashback to his time in high school, when he fell in love with his wife. As an audienve were kinds like dude she did not like you back then calm down which makes us question the morality of his mission, but for him it reminds him of what hes fighting for and erases the doubt he had in their love in to the end and prison. I will say im kinda pidgenholing this in with the flashback but uhm yeah!

THE GHOST OF YOU

This song acts as a continuation of his grief, back in the present day after im not okay made him remember what he was doing this all for. This basically confirms his belief that killing all these people is right because he needs to see her again. He battles with his morality knowing that she should be “never coming home” cause shes dead but then considering the deal with satan and its morality asking himself “could i? Should i?”. Towards the end, it seems like he decides killing the men to bring her back is the right thing to do. the line “If i fall, down” seems to show his commitment to her regardless of morality, hes willing to ‘fall down’ to hell if it means he gets more time with her which is ironic as he later does go to hell, but never gets to see her again.

THE JETSET LIFE IS GONNA KILL YOU

and hes back to killing again!! I think “her killing jar” is a metaphor for his fixation on his wife and the things its driving him to do. Hes trapped as if he was in a jar by the deal he made with satan for her. Its kind of difficult to explain but essentially hes assuring himself that hes doing it all for her and its all worth it as his sanity slowly dissipates, which i believe is demonstrated through the lyric “pull the plug” kinda symbolising hes giving up on himself and dedicating everything to her. Now this is obviously unhealthily obsessive and is the point where we definately start to question if what hes doing is right - is he not essentially playing god now? Should one man act as judge, jury and executioner?

INTERLUDE

ok its literally just the interlude but here i beleive he is praying for god, the “saints”, to “protect” his wife in heaven further showing his like motive? For all of his murders - his love for her however dangerously codependant.

THANK YOU FOR THE VENOM

HE KILLS MORE PEOPLE 🔥🔥 its almost like he has to kill 1000 evil men damn. BUT now hes starting to loose his grip on reality and is killing innocent people. I like to think he goes to the church he married his wife in and starts killing people - hence the line “sister im not much a poet but a criminal” - hes changed completely from the man he once was. They try to convince him to like stop saying its not what his wife would have wanted but he does not listen - in the lyric “preach all you want but whos gonna save me” - and continues to spiral into a life of crime and implied addiction (when in the chorus he says “give me all your posion and give me all your pills”)

HANG EM HIGH

THIS!! This is the one i can never fully figure out despite it being so good 🙏🙏 it feels like a cop out to say he suddenly becomes a cowboy or idk has to kill a cowboy but any other way i can interpret it is just the same old back to mourning his wife and dedicating his life to her so uhm yeah take any of those 3 or your own and run with it (please tell me if you know how to make this fit better than me)

ITS NOT A FASHION STATEMENT ITS A FUCKING DEATHWISH

Hes now so deep into his mission he cant quit despite the regret he feels. This kind of links back to his mocking of their younger selves in give em hell through the lyric “do you remeber back there when we met you told me this gets harder, well it did!”. Hes kind of pondering how his life got this bad wishing it didnt have to be this way. however he believes they will soon be reunited - evidenced through lines such as “im coming back from the dead” and the repeated references to resserection and him finding his wife, “your running out of places, to hide from me”. At the end, he says “i lost my fear of falling, i will be with you”, further showing he thinks he will soon see his wife again and simmilarly to the ghost of you shows hes willing to sacrafice his soul just to see her again

CEMETERY DRIVE

trust me the fake music video in my head for this goes HARD. So he visits the cemetary where his wife is buried to kinda tell her in a way? That hes almost finished and he’ll see her soon. And in my like the cool cinemetic imaganary music video he dances with her ghost but uhm plot wise hes kinda lamenting how much he misses here as the chorus goes “i miss you, so far”. Now theres some confusion as to how she died as here it says “and they found you on the bathroom floor” but in i never told you it says “they gave us two shots to the back of the head” so i imagine he got caught up in some like bad stuff and they killed her in their home - the bathroom - which does add some depth to his grief as he feels responsable for her death hence why he wants to bring her back so bad. His dedication to her is reinforced through the lyric “so i wont stop lying wont stop dying” which as ive said a lottt shows his like questionably large levels of motivation in this mission from satan. The repetition of “way down” at the end foreshadows the twist in the next song - that he's going to hell - and this idea has been building up throughout the narrative but its reaching its peak now and we begin to see it as a serious possibility considering the innocent people he has killed alongside the guilty ones.

I NEVER TOLD YOU WHAT I DO FOR A LIVING

Aaaaand im realising ive made it all the way through this without even having to check the tracklist which shows that i lack a life! But anyways this song communicates the concept so well and i genuienly could line by line delve into it but for the sake of conciceness as i have been i will just cover the basic concept

OK SO! Hes metholodically getting through this list (im inferring he has a list from the line “i keep a book of the names”) kind of rushing through them, seen through the fast pace of the first verse, in my head it resembles a video montage of the murder of multiple people off of the list. This is further evidenced through the lyric “another knife in my hands” showing this has somehow become his everyday life as hes become so detached from normalicy in his grief. NOW NOW NOW the lyric “a stain that never comes off the sheets” is an allusion to lady Macbeth (I FREAKING LOVE SHAKESPEARE) (im a hamlet girl tho honestly) where she couldnt wash the blood off of her hands which is a common literary symbol for guilt showing his mission has taken a massive toll on him mentally if we did not already realise this. “It aint the money and it sure as hell aint just for the fame” implies he does not enjoy killing these people despite the fact hes killed probably over a thousand people which againnnn shows his dedication to his wife. Now i know ive said that about a billion times but thats important to consider when we take into account that he does not get to see her again - everything he did was essentially worthless, in fact if anything everything he did just sealed his fate. Therefore, if we view him as a tragic hero (i can go so much more into this but thats for another day) then his hamartia is his love for her, his loyalty which kinda gave him tunnel vision meaning he could not see the flaws his plan and the way he was being exploited by satan.

now theres so much symbolism in the lyrics i could discuss (I LOVE THIS SONG) but i will refrain and kinda skip forward to the bridge/the end. I like to think he turns the last page in his book of names to just see his own name and then begins to spiral - this is where the song goes “and we all fall down”. Im preitty sure gerard ways like screams say “i tried” which like furthers this breakdown as he comes to understand all the wrong he has done and his inevatatable damnation. After a large moral debate he thinks it would have been better if they were both killed together originally “never again / they gave us two shots to the back of the head” and he shoots himself in the hope he will eventually be with her in the afterlife, and if not then a life without her is not a life worth living anyways. It ends with the lyric “were all dead now” (which they are) which reminds me of the rhyme/ game from when i was a kid ring a rosies (which i swear is about the plauge) and how that ends by saying “we all fall down” kinda showing the corruption he brought into the world and that everything must come to an end. This is typical of a tragic hero - his anagorisis (realisation of his flaw / mistake) and then his death - which is why i personally do veiw this album as mostly conforming to troupes of traditional greek tragedy :).

aaaaand thats it!! I dont count bury me in black or desert song as part of the album plot uhhh if anyone else does id love to hear how that sounds so cool but yeah!!! Oh and sorry again for any typos and spelling errors i cannot spell for the life of me uhmm this could be so incoherent for all i know (if so sorry!!) but i hope not 😛

lmk if you’d actualy wanna hear the full yap poetry annotation style for a song cause i love nothing more if not talking i might do the same for danger days if i feel like it so watch out 🔥🔥

[prodbymaui]

My Boy.

would it be a sin if I can't help falling in love with you?

PAIRING: lee donghyuck x fem reader

GENRE: the innocent sweet boy

WORD COUNT: 3.6k+ words

WARNINGS: explicit content, reader is older by 3 years, implied obsession, implied murder, mentioned physical abuse (not from haechan!)

SYNOPSIS: A series of failed relationships and you were this near of giving up on love. But then here comes little Donghyuck and his persistence. Maybe-- he was the one fated to you, after all.

A/N: forgive me for not writing a smooth transition from fluff to smut lmao. and this isn't beta-read so please just pretend you don't see grammatical errors and typos. fluff was just a poor attempt of hiding my true intentions for this fic, anyways lolol. enjoy reading! send your thoughts if you can, xoxo <3

LISTEN TO: Can't Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley (Haley Reinhart)

Lee Donghyuck, for everyone at the campus, is someone who embodies gracefulness, kindness and all the positive traits one could ever think of. Nobody would ever dare to say ill about him as it's disrespectful for the boy who had been nothing but gentle and polite to each he had encounter.

Lee Donghyuck, the ever so sweet boy who comes to anyone's aid no matter what's his relationship with them.

You're his friend? He'll help you!

A classmate? He's just one call away!

Oh, you're a stranger and someone he haven't met yet? How amazing it is that Donghyuck has a free time to lend you a hand and get to know you!

Men and women stares at him with adoration, even the professors and staffs couldn't resist falling in love with his charming personality-- he even earned the nickname 'Haechan' or 'Full Sun' as he brightens everyone's day with little to no effort. It would be a lie if none of the students admits their crush on the campus' sweetheart Lee Donghyuck.

Too bad for them as the lovely boy's hazel eyes are only set for one person. Someone who had been by his side ever since he was 5. Someone he admires and respects so much he wouldn't let anyone hurt nor even touch them. It's you. His noona.

Haechan was 15 when he confessed his undying love for you.

''These feelings.. they didn't grow inside me throughout the 10 years I've been with you, Noona. They had always been here, in my heart. It was just me who took a long time to realize I have been harboring romantic feelings for someone who clearly treats me as her brother. This love-- it's endless, limitless. It knows no boundaries. No matter who and whatever comes in my way, my love for you will never waver. Through the deathly drought, my love won't ever wither. Through the thundering storms, my heart stands sturdy for you to hold on. This love that I have for you, it is the kind of love that only gets stronger as time flies by. The kind of love that through life and death, you remain the queen of my heart. Ruling it as if you are its owner. Let me be the man who protects you from the harsh that is this world. Let me be the wall you can lean on and the blanket you seek for warmth and comfort. I hope you wouldn't treat me any less after this confession. Because if there's anything that I am afraid to lose in this world, it's you, noona.''

It's astonishing, how a 15 year old can say such words. You're not sure where and when he learned those kind of things but you, as early as you can, stomps on the flattering feeling brewing inside of you. The boy is so young, he still have so much ahead of him, so much of the future that awaits him. With the thought of not wanting to let the boy tie himself up quickly to someone he's most likely just infatuated-- that was the first and last time you've expected to reject the sweet boy of Ilsan.

Lee Donghyuck, the persistent boy that he is, surprises you with more than 3 confessions each month. You resist falling for the beautiful flowers sent to your house everyday. You withstand the painful urge of giving in to the delicious and adorable bento boxes that shows different images of cartoon characters such as cinnamoroll and my melody from sanrio.

But you're just a human being. One that is weak from such cute attempts to sway your heart, like love letters with pastel decorations on your mailbox. It was too late before you realized, the wall you've created to stop the romantic feelings from squeezing themselves in your heart had crumbled into pieces. Shooing away your so-called sisterly love to Donghyuck as it was quickly replaced with the one the male had confessed harboring for you.

6 years later, your sweet little boy turned into a man he promised to be. Protecting you from any harm even if you can do it yourself. I know Noona can handle it but I don't want you stressing over things like these, why not make use of these muscles, right? He says.

''That's really the Lee Haechan? The little boy who had a crush on you back in high school? That chubby choco ball little boy?! God, he grew up so well! If you didn't tell me any sooner, I might've mistaken him as someone our age.''

You scoff at Jennie's words, sending her your middle finger. ''Just tell me you were thinking of fucking my boyfriend until I told you he's mine.''

Jennie's laugh battles with the loud music of the club, hands clapping like a seal due to amusement. ''Fine, guilty as fuck.''

You don't mind her words. You've been Jennie's friend for a long time to know that she doesn't have any plans of actually bedding your boy. Plus she's dumbly in love with her fuck buddy, Lalisa. That itself tells a lot. And it's not like your lovely would agree fucking your best friend.

''Come to think of it-- none of your past relationships really worked, no? All of them either ran away or just completely disappeared,'' She giggles.

''Men are so fucking scared of independent and powerful women. Maybe it was fated from the start for you to end up with Donghyuck. From what I can see, he's really into you-- always ready to serve or some cliché shit like that. But it's cute. You and Donghyuck are adorable together. He's so much better than those douchebags, especially that fucking Kim Jongin.''

Right, the devil who's Kim Jongin if its physical form. He was someone you wished you didn't met, someone whom you hoped is currently suffering wherever he is right now. You remember it as clear as the skies. The way he was so sly slipping a pill in your cup, waiting for you to pass out as he was driven madly by his disgusting lust over your body. Fortunately, luck wasn't on his side at that time and you managed to call the one person you trust the most before your ex-boyfriend even do something horrible to your intoxicated, drugged self-- sans the bruises and wounds you received from fighting back.

Haechan came rushing to your house that night. This is where it gets blurry. All you could recall was Jongin dropping on the floor, laying on top of the pool of his own blood. Donghyuck carries you, passing through the police as he urges them to rush you to a hospital-- all the while reminding them that the offender is currently inside and he was lucky to save the both of you despite earning some injuries as well, although minors.

3 years since then, you are yet to say you feel safe. Not long after being jailed, Kim Jongin was reported to be missing in his cell and until now, no police is able to locate him. The trauma he brought you stirs the fear once again, but Donghyuck was there to remind you that he will never let Kim Jongin near you. He already hurt you once, he wouldn't give him a chance to do it again.

A voice snaps you out of your bubble. Jennie is nowhere to be seen, now replaced with a familiar man you swear you've seen before. ''You seem preoccupied, a penny for your thoughts?''

The man chuckles at your stunned reaction. ''Ah.. you don't remember me? That hurts a bit, ouch.'' He clenches his chest dramatically, there you gasp in realization, jerking upwards as you point at his figure. You know this guy!

''Oh? Are you finally remembering me? Just to be sure, it's me. Na Jaemin from the dance club in high school. You know? Your partner in every dance.. ?''

''Right! Right! Ah, Na Jaemin, I didn't recognized you! Take a seat. How are you doing?'' Jaemin's smile is so bright that you could feel yourself going blind.

''Doing fine, luckily. I'm taking up an engineering course, we've talked about that before right? Remember how you encourage me to go for it because I was so scared I won't make it? I was so bad at math that time.''

Laughing softly, you share the vivid memories you can recall from your high school days. Jaemin is a gentleman who doesn't hesitate to lend a hand at times you're having difficulties following the choreographies. And by how he entertains everyone in the club, treating the members snacks and drinks during break time-- It is safe to say he's one of those that you misses the most if not for college erasing your memories and replacing it stress.

The conversation fills with reminiscing about the past as if they're 15 years ago. Sharing a laughter after one mentions that one time you both got mental blocked during a performance causing the two of you to mess up, thankfully you work well enough you pull it off and make it seem like there was no mistake at all.

Just as Jaemin's eyes roams around the dance floor, his vision captures a sight of his drunken friend that clearly needs his help. Sighing, the man bids his goodbye to you. Not without getting your number and sharing his, of course. You'd love to hang out with the whole group again.

''What was that right there, huh?'' A grin shows itself on your face and sudden giddiness bubbles inside you as the playful tone rumbles against your ear, a pair of arms wrapping themselves around your waist.

''Nothing, just an old friend saying hi.''

''Is that so?''

''Uh-hm.''

One on the forehead, one on your cheeks and finally on the lips. Your heart soars as Donghyuck peppers your whole face with sweet pecks. As much as you are enjoying the drinks and foods, you'd rather spend the night in your shared bedroom with Haechan. Maybe cuddle and watch some movies together if one is not too tired.

Your boyfriend agrees at the suggestion, immediately zooming to your apartment after waving a goodbye to Jennie with Lisa in her embrace, obviously sucking a hickey on her neck. No one admits it but clearly, your best friend's fuck buddy also have the same feelings for her. She's just too much of a coward. You remind yourself to help her confess.

Reaching the comfort of your home, you stand before the mirror as you drink in your look, observing if you look presentable during your time at the club. It isn't long before someone sneaks up behind you, arms snaking around you once again as he buries his face on the crook of your neck. Sighing, you lean backwards to press yourself at him, satisfied at the feeling of his body heat warming you.

A kiss turns into twice, trice, until it doubles and doubles, eventually reaching up to the back of your ears. Kitten licking the outline, Donghyuck presses his lips against your ears as one of his palms travels to cup one of your breasts, eyes straight to the mirror-- watching every changes of your facial expression as he fondles your boob while sucking an area of your neck.

Your clothes are soon on the floor, courtesy of Haechan desperately yet slowly stripping them off of you, his touch lingering in each part of your body. A finger of his traces the line that is between your pussy cheeks, dipping a little only to retract as fast. His chest rumbles against your back when he chuckle, left hand settling on your throat comfortably as his thumb and forefinger forces you to face your reflection on the mirror.

''You're so pretty, noona. Can you open your legs for me?'' Nodding so pliantly, Donghyuck could feel his pants getting tighter each second that passes by.

Spreading your legs, you grip his arm to steady yourself as a digit of his pushes itself in your core, sliding so easily due to the wetness embarrassingly caused by Haechan's raspy voice whispering against your ears. Being knuckles deep inside you, the male curses under his breath as he controls himself from foregoing foreplay and straight fucking you against the mirror. Your warm and velvety walls are making it hard for him to prevent himself from doing so.

Soon after a couple of strokes, your hips jerks in little motions, whines slightly echoing the four walls of the bedroom. That was when Donghyuck decided to add another finger to increase the friction you're feeling, curling them upwards in an attempt to press the buttons that emits the sounds he loves so much he considers it as a music.

It should be somewhere around here...

''Ah, shit!''

There we go, he cockily smirks. Humming, Haechan continuously jabs the tip of his fingers to that certain spot, grinding his clothed dick on the crack of your ass to ease the throbbing pain between his legs. ''Fuck, Hyuck..'' Your whines encourage the male to scissor your insides, stretching your walls all the while making sure hit and reach every spot you couldn't explore with your own hands.

His tongue falls flat on your skin as he licks a stripe from your shoulders up to the back of your ears, the hand that was previously on your throat now settles on your boob, pinching the hard nub lightly as he stimulates further pleasure with it. Your legs folds a bit, going jelly but the sudden increase of the dizzying pleasure you're getting.

''Fuck, fuck, fuck!'' Hips moving to meet the palms of your boyfriend, Haechan didn't hesitate to add two more fingers. He's already sure you can take it, you've pushed much bigger things in your pussy. The pads of Donghyuck's hand comes in contact with your aching hard clit, forcing a yelp from your. Cruelly, your boyfriend laughs at your reaction before pressing harder on your button, making circles with it the same time as four of his fingers harshly plunges themselves in your soaking core.

Eyes landing on the mirror, it eventually reaches downwards where Donghyuck's wrist and your pelvis meets. Even from your position and blurry vision, you could the redness and puffiness your pussy had become, clit peeking between the cheeks. Haechan finds the need to balance your figure as you almost fall forward, eyes rolling to the back of your head when your mouth opens to a scream. There your forehead scrunches to the middle, body shivering in his hold as the surface of his hand soon greets the sticky and creamy substance that he loves so much.

Beaming in satisfaction, Haechan makes a show of licking your juices off his hands, sucking each fingers with a 'pop!' before humming. ''You're just so sweet.''

Donghyuck then lets your knees meet the carpet of the ground slowly, turning you around so you could face the bump that is hidden underneath the fabric of his pants. He can already see the drool escaping your lips. No words are needed for you to know what to do, you've done this a lot of time, enough to learn what satisfies your lovely boyfriend.

Contrary to the Donghyuck you've gotten used to, this man that stands before you embodies nothing similar to the sweetheart. This particular Donghyuck loves to slide his girthy cock inside of you with no warnings, gripping your hair in a fist as he mercilessly thrusts to that pleasuring walls that is your throat.

This particular Donghyuck gets off of watching you scrambling to pull yourself off of him to catch a breath, coughing out with saliva only to come back having your face pressed to his pelvis once again. Eyes shut close as you try to breathe within your nose and if you couldn't, resort to opening your eyes and presenting your best teary eyes to Haechan for him to spare you, let you take in some air for at least a few seconds.

''Ah.. that's a-- I made you cum but you couldn't even bring me near my release? Isn't that a bit unfair to me, noona?'' You know damn well he's just mocking you. There's no one Donghyuck can fool when it comes to your ability to make him cum. A mere sight of you, even if covered from head to toe, would be enough for him to pop a boner and shoot his cum out in the air.

Determined to repay your baby's kind gesture earlier, you stills in your position and gives him a signal. Donghyuck lets out profanities with that. You just fucking gave him a confirmation, a consent that you're letting him fuck your throat as if it's your pussy.

Lee Donghyuck did just that. Holding your face in place, fucking inside you deeper with each thrust until a groan escapes his lips, soon enough he was spurting out white thick substances in the alley of your burning throat.

The male wastes no time in carrying you to the bed, throwing you after ripping his clothes off of him. His tongue invades the insides of your mouth, exploring and devouring what you have to offer. As if running out of time, Haechan's hands grasps the back of your thighs and forces them up to get a clearer view of your pussy pulsating, hungry for his cock.

Who is Donghyuck to deprive his lovely noona from receiving a well deserved good fuck, right?

No more teasing and no more extra touches, the tip of Donghyuck's thick cock slowly sinks, the whole entirety of his length follows not long after. His mouth falls open at the heat that surrounds him, the ecstasy you brings shakes his sanity.

Unforgiving, the thrusts are. With his hands settling besides your head, Haechan looks down to watch where your hole swallows him hungrily and is forced to turn his eyes away in order to not cum that fast. Fuck, the squelching sounds that bounces across the bedroom is so obscene that Donghyuck could feel himself smiling in pride. He's doing this to his, noona. Him and not those bastards.

''Fuck! Y-you're so b-big! So good, baby-- ah, fuck!'' Your nails creates crescent moon shapes on his back as it digs due to the immense pleasure, head dipping further to the pillow underneath you.

Being able to hold you in his arms and have you screaming for him, Haechan did the best he can to prevent himself from giving in to tempting urge of releasing. Instead, he decides to chase yours. He rocks his hips in the way you had been begging him, faster and harder. Unhooking his hold, he brings your legs to rest on his shoulders, almost bending you in half. This enables his cock to reach deeper and you wails, feeling his tip right at your stomach.

Fucking you earnestly, Haechan quickens his pace where you couldn't keep up, reduced to a whimpering and crying mess as you beg him to send you off to your climax. He latches his wet lip around your nipples, there he sucks like a new born baby starving for its mama's milk. Prodding his tongue right at the middle of your nub and wiggles them, that and the continuous contact of his tip to your sweet spot are those that caused you to thrash violently in his hold.

Hands flying anywhere, in search of gripping anything. Your burning walls clenching around his shaft, it would be a crime for Donghyuck to not succumb to the euphoria that's literally waving at him and beckoning him to cum. With your sweet words and encouragements piercing his eardrums, your boyfriend cums three thrusts after you, each resulting a moan from him.

The high soon subsides and a chuckle instinctively comes from him when his eyes catches the sight of you sleeping peacefully beside him, snoring like a little baby. Well, you are. His baby, to be exact.

Stickiness from the mega mixture of sweat and cum covers most of your skin, he wouldn't want the both of you to have a skin rashes or whatever it is that you gets from having cum on your skin for too long. And aftercare is a must! So he forces himself out of the bed despite the aching muscles and cleans you up, carefully as to no wake you up from your deep slumber.

Minutes passing, you are now comfortably laying on the bed, clean and free from the germs. A soft smile dawns Haechan's features as he cards his hand through your hair endearingly, kissing your forehead. ''I can't believe you're mine, noona.'' Caressing your cheeks for the last time, he practically forces himself to stop and move on to what he planned to do which is to cook your some food. Usually after sex, you'll wake up after an hour or so because of hunger. It has been a routine for him to prepare you both some easy dishes.

He is about to head towards the door when your phone, placed on the bedside, rings. Striding to it, he taps once to see who dared to text his noona at this time. Don't they know that you are most likely sleeping during this hour and their text might wake you up? Nevermind, maybe it's Jennie.

Oh. It's him.

Hey, this is Jaemin! I was just thinking if you'd like to hang out on wednesday? Only if you're free, of course!

Na fucking Jaemin.

Donghyuck scoffs, tongue poking his cheeks as he smirks in disbelief.

3 years since then, he can't believe he's about to give Kim Jongin a fucking gravemate.

[cateyesinlove]

Threads of Black and threads of Green

Jacaerys Velaryon/Targaryen x Helaena Targaryen TW; Suicide and mention of miscarriage

AO3

Masterlist

Prologue

"My boy,” Helaena whispered to the wind, she could see the city from her balcony, “my sweet sweet boy” she cried, sobbing into her hands. Her children, all her children were gone, Jeahaerys had been murdered by her uncle's men even tho she knew it was her brother Aemond who was the target, and then there was Jaehaera who her mother had sent to Oldtown for safekeeping before Rhaenyra had arrived to take the throne who was dead too and lastly the babe she had just lost.

“What else will you take from me” She whispered in agony, her body weak and aching after all the hard work of birthing a baby but no baby to hold, sing to, or love. As she looks down the balcony she sees the spikes that have haunted her all her life, here to claim her, if they want her so badly they can have her, with shaky legs she climbs across the railing of the balcony. 

“And when the dragon lost everything she flew to the sun where the warm would embrace her and birth her a new” she whispered as she pushed away from the railing, falling looking at the sky and reminiscing of the times she would touch it on Dreamfyres back. 

“Maybe I shall see you again.” She whispered softly closing her eyes and welcoming the stranger and the pain that suddenly sparked through her body. 

After what she thought was her end a scream escaped from her throat as she sat up in a bed, she could still feel the spikes piercing her body, wrapping her arms tightly around her as she tried to suppress the pain. 

“Helaena! Helaena what's wrong!” a voice to her right frantically called for her attention but the pain was bigger than whoever was next to her calling her name, she let another scream out hoping it would take the pain with it. 

“Bring the master at once!” The man worried for her exclaimed, “Hel, Hel darling can you hear me? Can you nod if you can hear me?” He pleaded with her. 

She gave a shaky nod as she sobbed overwhelmed, “It's going to be fine hel, ca- can I hold you? Can I touch you?” he asked and immediately she shook her head, gods no, just imagining the feeling of anyone hands on her made her feel worse. 

“Yes yes of course,” he muttered more to himself than her and stood up from the bed, taking the blankets from the bed and wrapping Helena on them, he sat behind her and wrapped his arms around her making sure to never touch her. 

“It will be fine Helaena, breath, you are safe I promise, I would never let anything happen to us.” He reassured her, “To our babies.”

The world froze for Helaena as the warmth from the blanket surrounded her and her senses dulled “my my babies?” she whispered in tears, her voice hoarse from the screaming and crying. “My babies are here?” 

“Of course Hel,” the man whispered, “They are in the next room resting.” 

She doesn't realize she is on her feet until she opens the door and pounces for the door to her right, feeling the ache in her heart she opens it knowing that it's the right door, and as she opens it there they lay both babes in the cradle alongside their eggs. 

“My boy,” she cries kneeling in front of the cradle and observing her baby, her beautiful child with his white hair and his little cheeks but something catches her eye as she observes her baby, a small brown curl. When she turned her head she saw her baby girl, Jaehaera only this instead of her beautiful Targaryen hair she had long brown curls, shocked and in disbelief she turned around to look back at the man at the door, the one who had been so gentle and patient with her, the one who had known exactly what to do to calm her, the one who spoke so gently to her like she was the most precious thing in the world. Jacaerys. 

He smiles softly at her but she can see tears forming in his eyes, “See Hel the babies are fine,” he reassured her approaching her and offering his hand, “I would never allow anything to happen to them nor anyone in this castle because everyone loves them”

She hesitates to take his hand scared that the horrid sensation and overwhelming feelings will be back ten times fold but when he finishes reaching for hers she only feels the warmth and a sense of peace fill her body. “I will always be here for you my wife.” he kisses the back of her hand and the world goes dark again. 

Tag list @ella-error505

[zephyrrr101]

Take me away

Pairing: Robert Baratheon x Named Targ OC

TW: Abusive words, Harrasment, Talk of murder, Robert Baratheon being an angry chihuahua, all the ASOIAF world warning.

Part Two

Cries echoed in the silent halls of Red Keep. Ned Stark frowned at the new sound that had tore through the almost deafening quietness. He turned to look at his companions in the throne room.

His friend, now King Robert Baratheon sat at the Iron Throne.

The same throne that sat many Targaryen kings on it. The same Targaryens that the now King had swore upon killing. Each and everyone.

He did not agree with his friend on this.

Rhaegar Targaryen had taken his sister.

Aeyrs Targaryen had killed his father and brother.

He had felt the fire of vengeance run through him until they were alive but it was quelled the moment he met his dying sister.

And then he had felt disappointed and regretful.

Thousand people lost. Innocents put to sword.

The only good thing he thought came out of it was the end of the Mad King, albeit he didn't like the way he was killed by the Lannister White Knight, but still was a relief.

Another cry shook him out of his thoughts, now much louder, and he then turned to Jon Arryn, his mentor and now the Hand of the King. "What is this? Who is it?"

Jon Arryn did not answer. Even he wasn't sure what was happening. It was clear from the confused look on his face.

His eyes then found that of the new Commander of Kingsguard, Ser Barristan. He looked terrified at the best. He could not think of what could leave the man such as him so struck with fear.

The door of the Throne Room opened.

Now he understood Ser Barristan's horror.

Stannis Baratheon, King Robert's younger brother, marched in. His arms wrapped around silver tresses, he much more of dragged the woman he had come to know as Princess Alyssanne, cries leaving her mouth along with words of pleads to let her go.

What in the name of Gods' was happening?

Stannis came closer to the steps of the throne and pushed the silver haired princess to the floor, left of mercy of all the men in the room.

"What is the meaning of this?" Ned asked and he quickly moved over to the princess.

Her hair dishevelled, her dress dirty and almost seemed to falling off her shoulders. He did the quick work of pulling his cloak off him and covered the princess. Her eyes raised from the ground to meet his. Purple eyes filled with tears and her cheek wet and red.

"The boy escaped with the new born girl," Stannis started, "the Queen was dead. We only got in time to capture her. Dragonstone is ours."

"And you this needed you to drag a woman in such state?" Ned glared Stannis. He had known him almost as long as he knew Robert. He was like his own brother too. But this man he did not recognise.

Stannis opened his mouth, anger surging in his blood. But before any words could leave him, Robert yelled at the top of lungs. "What do you mean they escaped?! What else did I sent you there for!"

Stannis looked at his brother in shock. How could he even say such thing. "It was not in my hand! Willem Darry looked as if he had it already planned. He quicked the younger ones out. It was fortunate we could capture her!"

"You could have gotten there faster! I sent you there to killed them all! Not to bring the bitch back!" He glared at his brother for a moment before his anger took it's turn to Alyssanne. "Where did they go? Where did those runts run off to!"

Alyssanne flinched seeing him stand. Robert was always a tall man with broad shoulders. It intimidated anyone who didn't know him dearly. And not know him, the princess did. She whispered out some words in terror, her hold on the grey cloak of Stark was deathly. And Robert roared his question again, making her crawl a little back.

"I don't know! Please! Robert, we are kin!" She cried out, her voice broken from screaming some moments before.

"Kin? Kin! You are no kin of mine!" Robert sneered, "I'll find each and every one of your filthy white haired bastard and kill them just like I killed that son of whore of your brother! Just like I'll kill you!"

"No! Please! Robert!" Ned had never quite seen any woman in such a distress. He didn't even know what he was to do. "They are but children! Please just... Let them be. Let me go. I will find them and make sure we never return to Westros. I swear it! Please!"

"Let you go!" Robert looked disgusted at the thought, he started treading down the stairs, "You want me to—"

Ned stepped in Robert's way just when he was about a few steps away from Alyssanne and he caught Ser Barristan beside him. The princess had started fo move behind, draging herself back, trying to make distance between the enraged man.

"You grace, despite your anger she is your kin. An honourable man and king does not harm their kin or a woman," Ser Barristan said, trying to stop the enraged man to get his hands on the princess.

"Robert, she is a woman, a lady," Ned glared at his friend and Robert for a moment calmed.

For a moment they were not in the Throne Room of Red Keep but in Vale, fighting boys who tried to pick a fight with them.

Jon Arryn mean while had too moved. He approached the princess as one would a frighted and injured predator, who was actually contemplating the last moments of their life. He helped the princess get up, he eyes moving warily around, it didn't take anyone to be too wise to see the distance she tried to keep from Stannis and his men.

"Let us talk about this after tempers have cooled." Jon said. And he could say everyone agreed, even the Baratheon's, reluctantly, but they did.

Alyssanne had not slept for even a second in the following night. And it was not an understatement.

She had been far too worried about what was happening. From what she could tell, there was a storm forming across the Blackwater Bay which was streched all over the Narrow sea she could see from her room.

Yes, her room.

Jon Arryn had done her the courtesy of letting her be in her room. Something about finding calmness in familiarity.

She could bet whatever she had that she would never find calmness ever again.

She could not get her mind off anything. Her worry for her little brother and sister who had sailed just a day before. A storm on their flight would not do them good, specially the baby Daenerys, what her mother had named the babe with her dying breath.

Alyssanne had promised her mother to protect Viserys and Daenerys. How was she supposed to keep them safe, protect them when she was locked in the highest floor of the Maegor's Holdfast. Curse her father for giving her this room. What the hell was that mad man thinking! What was Rhaegar thinking? What was anyone thinking?

Another reason for sleep fleeing her was fear for her own life. She trusted Ser Barristan posted outside her room. The man had been their when she was born and had seen her grow up. Seven Hells, he was the one who had sent for her mother when she had her first moon blood. But even after all that, she could not sleep. Ser Barristan may have been another father figure in her life after Rhaegar, he was still a man who followed his King's command. And unfortunately, her cousin who was hell bent on having all of her family annihilated, including herself. Her father's Kingsguard had drawn the sword through his chest. Her father may be been the most horrible man to breath but she would not trust anyone now. Specially now.

"Princess," She flinched at the slight graze at her hand shuffling away on the opposite side on her bed. Alyssanne blinked, her wide eyes found a terrified woman standing across her.

"Princess... I—we are here to bathe you," The maid said. Yes, a maid, it was only a maid, Alyssanne sighed and looked around the room, there were three more women, all of them older than her, two bringing hot water in one putting a dress on the dressing screen and the last one was the one who had scared her.

"Yes, yes," she nodded and got off the bed hesitantly. None of the women seemed familiar. She was sure they didn't work here.

The maid who had scared her made a quick work of taking off her dress, if there was much left of it. There had not much left of her clothes in her room when she had tried to look in her dressers.

She wasn't even sure what happened in King's Landing. All her mother had told her was that her father, good sister, niece and nephew were dead and had then crowned Viserys King in Dragonstone. Now she was starting to wonder if asking for details may have been a good idea.

Why do good ideas never come at the right time?

Alyssanne couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief as she put her leg in the hot water. She could thank whoever had to the maids to have the water almost boiling hot. Her skin tingled as warmth started to seep in her body. It almost felt like she was back in time when nothing was wrong. That her mother would be bringing Viserys in her room to spend time with, Elia following her with little Rhaenys and Aegon.

Alyssanne sighed, biting her lip as she let the maids wash her. She had to control herself. Her eyes cautiously moved around her. Even when the maids were just doing their jobs. She couldn't let her guard down.

She sent a prayer to whatever Gods would listen her. Please keep my little brother and sister safe. She whispered. Keep them out of Robert's reach, please.

[matan4il]

Update post:

Rockets from Gaza continue to be fired at Israel. The 7 days where there was a break in the fighting, were clearly used by Hamas to re-build their abilities to fire into Israel, because the rocket attacks since the fighting has resumed are more intense than they were in the days before the break started. The rockets from Gaza were joined today by rockets from Hezbollah in Lebanon, and from Syria. Among other consequences we've seen on this day, at least 12 Israelis were injured by this rocket fire, and a synagogue was hit.

As the testimonies about the rapes and sexual assaults committed by Hamas continue to mount, in the last two days, we got confirmation that men were victimized by Hamas, too. The voices decrying the rapes as crimes against humanity are starting to be heard as well. The fact that it took people two months to get there, and some (*cough* the UN Women's organization *cough*) still issued what can barely be called a pale statement on the subject. When taken with how long it took them to speak, it really is not enough. But some voices are actually surprising. The Guardian is notoriously anti-Israel, to the point where its own Jewish worker has written about not feeling safe there. But now they've published an op ed that said exactly what needed to be said: rape is rape. And looking away from rape, for whatever reason, is wrong. And here's another testimony from a piece by The Sunday Times:

People are speculating on why Hamas won't release the last of the women that are known to be alive and in captivity in Gaza, despite that being a breach of the hostage deal, and a red line for Israel. A common hypothesis is that these women must have been raped and abused so badly, Hamas doesn't want to release them. IDK if this is true, but then, I'm not just writing about what Israelis know for sure. I'm mainly writing about what Israelis are going through, the torment of not knowing, the fear of the darkest possibilities that come up when the unknown looms over us, and this hypothesis is a part of it.

The IDF says it has destroyed 500 terror tunnels in Gaza since the fighting began, and 800 tunnel shafts. It has also published the names of Hamas leaders, and called on them to surrender. This is a reminder that Hamas could stop all the fighting, and save many Palestinians, by surrendering immediately, and returning all the hostages that it's still holding.

This is Yaron Avraham.

He was born to an Israeli Arab family in Lod. When he was 9 years old, his beloved older sister was murdered in front of his eyes by his older brothers, for having returned home late (i.e, for supposedly being promiscuous). He was incredibly distraught, since he was so attached to her, and to get him out of the way, he was sent by his brothers to study at an extremist mosque in Gaza. He recounted that he was there for 5.5 years, during which the boys were indoctrinated to hate Jews, and think little of their own lives. As a climax exercise, they were "buried" alive in a real grave, in a real cemetery, while their classmates held their funeral above them. Yaron Avraham said it took him years to heal from this experience. Another incident that he shared, is that once, two of his classmates were accused of being sexually active together (he didn't believe the accusation, and thought they were being made an example of). The two boys were beheaded in front of their classmates. Yaron gave them hell at the mosque, until they sent him back to his family. His brothers then had him study instead in another extremist mosque, this time in the village of Yatta. After another 1.5 years there, he ran away, and ended up living on the streets of Lod, a mixed Israeli city. He was taken in by a Jewish man, who fed and took care of him, and gave him proper education. After a couple of years, Yaron chose to volunteer, to serve in the IDF. His unit was sent to Gaza, and he ended up outside the mosque where he was abused. He wanted to go in and kill everyone there, but his Jewish commander stopped him. "You don't understand," he tried to explain the antisemitic brainwashing that happened inside that mosque, but his commander insisted that killing everyone inside goes against our values. Yaron said that this was the beginning of his journey to convert to Judaism, when he saw how instead of sanctifying death, Jews sanctify life. Everyone's life. Even their enemies'.

Yaron has retold his story numerous times, my summary here is based on several of his interviews, written and filmed. But something that got to me about a recent one, that he gave after Oct 7, is that he was asked about the occupation as the excuse anti-Israelis give for Hamas' brutal violence. Yaron said that it was never mentioned! That in the 7 years he spent in those two mosques, no one ever talked to them about the occupation. That it was always clear this was a religious fight. The problem was the evil character of the Jews. That is the mentality of Hamas terrorists. That is the antisemitic brainwashing that they undergo. That's why they can rape, maim, torture and murder without a second thought, even though they surely know this would not liberate any Palestinian.

The Iran-funded Houthis terrorists attacked two ships today, both supposedly for being Israeli. The less severely damaged ship has one shareholder who's an Israeli businessman. The more severely damaged one has nothing to do with Israel, it's believed the Houthis might have misidentified it. Officially, the Houthis say they are in a war against Israel and the US.

This is 21 years old Keshet Kasrotti.

He was murdered at the Nova music festival, one of over 360 young people slaughtered there. His mom said that her one comfort, is that he was shot in the chest, so he died quickly. His suffering didn't last as long as it did for some. She also shared that many Israelis, upon hearing her son's first name (it means 'rainbow' in Hebrew) sent her this short poem by Neria Yaakov:

"I am breaking / said the light / and became a rainbow."

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

Hello new here! I was thinking if you could an aegon and rhaenyras daughter but instead of Harwin being her father its criston cole because he did get her pregnant that night. This takes place after Luke’s death and instead of just killing aegon’s and readers son they kill her too because daemon hated her for being ser Crispins daughter and like rhaenyra is heartbroken and aegon is crazy on revenge for his wife and child.

pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Niece!Reader

summary: aegon and rhaenyras daughter but instead of Harwin being her father its criston cole because he did get her pregnant that night. This takes place after Luke’s death and instead of just killing aegon’s and readers son they kill her too because daemon hated her for being ser Crispins daughter and like rhaenyra is heartbroken and aegon is crazy on revenge for his wife and child.

Word count: 3,0K

Warnings: Angst, Rape, Murder, Child murder, Blood and Cheese, Fire and Blood spoilers, Targaryen Madness

"Come on darling, don't give Muña such a hard time" You teased your son with a smile. He giggled as your fingers tickles his tummy. His chubby fingers reached out to you.

"Will sleep my love or will you be keeping me and kepa up all night again?" You asked, leaning down to kiss his forehead. Viseryn let out another giggle as your hair tickled his cheeks, chubby and full from feeding regularly from your breast.

"My sweet baby" You whispered, swaying from side to side. Your back was to the door and facing your child's cradle. When you heard the door you did not turn assuming it was Aegon coming to see Viseryn off before bed.

"You're back early, my love" You said. You frowned when you did not receive an answer back, Aegon usually made noise or at least answered you to not startle you. You turned around and froze at the sight of two men standing in front of the door with daggers in their hands.

"Who are you?" You questioned, tightening your grip on your son. Viseryn whined as you mushed his face against your bosom.

"Prince Daemon sent us, princess" One of the two answered taking a step closer to you.

"My stepfather?" You questioned, cocking your head to the side. The man grinned evilly showing his rotten teeth.

"What do you want?" You asked, backing up. The two of them approached you. You remembered the dagger Aegon hid in the nightstand beside the crib in case of something happening.

"A son for a son, princess" The other man was the one to speak. You shook your head in denial, Daemon would never hurt Viseryn, right? Although you never had a good relationship with him you did not believe he was capable of hurting an infant, barely seven moons old.

"Over my dead body" You sprang into action pulling open the drawer while balancing Viseryn on one arm and pulled the dagger out. The two of them snickered at the sight of you, in your night gown a weak woman with no experience in the matter of fighting but like any mother you were ready to defend your little one.

"That can be arranged" The first man said. He attempted to step closer to your but you swiped your dagger at him, a fire ignited inside of you, a need to protect your cub. A loud roar echoed in the distance, Vermithor feeling your distraught but unable to help from outside.

"Sweetheart, do not make this harder for yourself" He taunted trying to grab you again. You tried stabbing him again but this time the second man intervened and grabbed your arm. He pried your fingers off the dagger and threw it away. You whimpered at the painful grip he had around your arm.

"Much better" He whispered pulling you back into him and wrapped his free arm around your middle.

"No, get away" The other man pulled Viseryn out of your arms forcefully. The little boy burst out crying at the jerking and being in unfamiliar arms.

"No let him go, please" You begged. The man behind you held you tightly.

"Who are you?" You sobbed. You tried getting to Viseryn but the second man had a tight grip around you. You shuddered at the feeling of his breath against your neck.

"I am blood sweetheart" The man holding Viseryn responded. Viseryn was trying to push him away but Blood was too strong for the small boy, his screams grew even more urgent, his head turning in search of you.

"And I am cheese" The one holding you whispered in your ear. Your body shivered with disgust.

"Please let my baby go, I'll do anything" You begged. Blood looked at you in amusement. He raised his dagger to Viseryn's neck making you let out a scream.

"Please! Anything!" You yelled. Cheese had to grab both your arms and held them behind your back to restrain some of your movement.

"Anything?" He taunted grinding his lower half against your behind. You felt nauses at the thought of another man other than Aegon anywhere near you but for Viseryn you would do anything.

"Please let him go and take me instead, kill me instead a son for a wife" You bargained. The two looked at each other chuckling as they communicated with their eyes.

"We can arrange that" Blood said, walking over to the cradle he placed your son down in it. Viseryn's cries did not cease for a second, he still sensed the danger. He would not calm until he felt your touch, until he felt your skin and heard your voice.

"Come on then, little princess" Cheese pushed you closer to your bed. Tears were streaming down your cheeks at this moment. Being a princess you never imagined for a second that you would be harmed in such a way by anyone.

"Good princess" Cheese teased pushing you to lay on your stomach. He pulled up your night gown to show your behind groaning at the sight.

"Look what the lucky bastard has" Blood's hand came down to smack your behind. You closed your eyes hearing shuffling behind you. You jerked at the feeling of Cheese's cock easing inside of you.

"She's so fucking tight" Cheese pointed out. He was brutal with his movement. You were in emense pain but for your boy your would endure anything.

"The Hightower cunt probably does not fuck her enough" Blood laughed. He pulled his cock out in front of you and began palming himself, up and down slowly to not spill just yet. Viseryn's loud cries were the only thing heard in the room along with the groans of the two men and skin slapping, you refused to give them the satisfaction of hearing your despair.

"Fuck" Cheese threw his head back as he spilled himself inside of you. He pulled out with a shit eating grin making way for blood.

"I like watching them squirm in pleasure" Blood turned you around to face him. He pulled your legs up and over his shoulder before pushing his cock inside of you. You wanted to scream from the pain but held inside. Cheese's cum worked as lube to let him in but it did not make it anywhere near pleasurable.

Your head lulled to the side unable to look at him as he fucked himself into you, an honour only meant for noble men to fuck a princess but here low lives were getting their fill. You looked at the cradle beside the bed where Viseryn was still screaming his lungs out, voice growing hoarse.

"Fuck sweetheart" Blood palmed at your breasts like some hungry beast. He let his weight fall on you as he orgasmed. You have never seen any men finish so quickly before in your life but yo were more than grateful so this torture could end.

"Look at the Queen so full of our cum" Cheese teased. Blood pulled out of you and moved to the side fixing his trousers.

"If only she were to live and have our bastards but alas this was good enough" Blood teased back. Your eyes widened in shock. Cheese was quick to pull you off the bed and hold you against his chest with your back to him and your front facing the cradle.

"What are you doing?" You questioned. Blood pulled Viseryn out of the cradle and held him in his arms again.

"I gave you what you wanted, please let him go" You pleaded. Blood smirked evilly at you.

"Not a chance princess" A scream tore from your throat as blood's knife came down straight into you boys neck ending his screams. Blood let go of your boy letting him fall the ground with a loud thud and you swear you could hear several cracks as well.

"Viseryn!" Your knees gave up on you and Cheese let you go. You crawled over to your son's mangled body. You picked him up and held him against your chest, his smashed face against your breast, the breast he was suckling on less than an hour ago but never will ever again.

"My boy!" Your throat felt like it was tearing open. Your heart was in so much pain you felt like you were dying and in fact you were.

"Shut her up" Blood whined, hands going up to his ears. You were shocked no one heard your and Viseryn's screams by now. Cheese did not waste a second to move closer to you and hold his knife to your neck. With one swift swipe his slit your throat open.

You chocked on your blood, gurgling. Your bed fell to the side with Viseryn still in your arms. Your body withered and shivered before finally falling limp, your arms growing limp around your son's corpse and your eyes wide open along with your mouth.

"Let's go" Blood pulled cheese out of the room before they could get caught. They were lucky thus far but they did not know for how long.

"Darling" Aegon whispered as he opened the door trying not to wake up his sleeping son, it was past his bed time after all. He froze at the sight of you laying on the floor, the blood still not visible.

"My love!" He yelled, sprinting over to your body. He fell to his knees beside you heart hammering in his chest. His eyes caught sight of your son's mangled body laying beside yours.

"Viseryn!" The scream that tore through his throat will forever haunt those who lived within these walls, a ghost of the memory many called it.

His hands shook as he pulled his son to his chest. His throat was torn open, his small eyes open staring into the void. His small hands no longer trying to grab at his hair. His chest no longer rising and falling with each breath.

"Wake up, please my boy wake up" Aegon begged, sobbing. His head fell on his son's chest in search of a heart beat but there was none. "Please" Aegon sobbed.

"Aegon?" His mother's voice called from the door. She had heard his scream from down the corridor and came running along with Criston.

"Mother, Viseryn won't wake up" Aegon turned to look at him mother. She gasped in horror at what she saw. Blood everywhere. Criston braced himself against the door frame by her side. The sight of his only child in such a state sent him into shock mode.

"Viseryn" Alicent whispered, stepping closer. Her first instinct was to take him from Aegon. Aegon let her in hopes that she will bring his son back to life. He turned to look at his wife and pulled her into his chest.

"My love, wake up, please" He hand moved to touch your cheek, smearing your blood there even more. Your eyes stared up at the ceiling with no movement. His eyes trailed down to the rest of your body pausing when he noticed even more blood on your lower region. Fury was all that could be described at when he felt in that moment, Targaryen madness was more than proven with this King.

"My beautiful wife" He sobbed, his head falling down against your chest, where he liked to lay and listen to your heartbeat whenever he was sad, whenever his mother shouted at him, whenever being king grew overwhelming but now he heard no comforting thuds and your fingers did thread through his hair, you did not scold him for forgetting to wash it. Usually you helped him with his baths and it became a routine at the end of the day for him to bath and you washing his hair and body before joining him for a round of love making.

Aegon looked up when he heard shuffling to find Criston kneeling down beside him, tears were streaming down his face. It was no secret who your father was, the uncanny resemblance, the black locks and brown eyes, the tan complexion all pointed to one answer. The soft spot Criston had for you as a child and the fury that seemed to burn him when your mother took you away to Dragonstone and away from him.

"My girl" Criston was over the moon when it was announced that you were to marry Aegon, you would be moving back to the Red Keep and he could be near you again. Aegon let Crsiton take you from him, let him touch you and hold you. Criston buried his face in your hair sobbing like any parent would.

"Where are you going?" Alicent asked, between her sobs. Aegon stood up from the floor and walked over to the door.

"To plan a war" Was all Aegon said without looking back at her and moved to leave in search of Aemond and Daeron.

"You motherfucker" Aegon slammed his feats into Daemon's face earning back a laugh.

"Is that all you got, boy" Daemon taunted. Aegon rolled his neck, sword in hand, he was never really good in the art of sword fighting, it was more Aemond and Daeron's cup of tea but this was a new Aegon.

"You killed her" Aegon accused. He attempted to pounce at Daemon when a loud dragon roar echoed in the skies. Syrax landed not far away from the battlefield and his sister slid down from the saddle.

"A son for a son" Daemon answered shrugging. Aegon let out a loud cry running at Daemon sword long forgotten, flew from his hand to the ground. Daemon was pushed onto his back with Aegon's hand around his neck in a chokehold. Daemon's hands snapped up to wrap around Aegon's wrists.

"Why did you kill them? They were innocent" Aegon sobbed. Tears gathered in his eyes. He could footsteps nearing them but did not look up. He trusted Aemond and Daeron to stop any attacks from behind him.

"She is Criston Cunt's daughter and he is your Hightower spawn" Daemon chocked. His face was turning red and some shade of purple. Aegon flinched at the feeling of something sharp pierce his side. He looked down to find Daemon holding the handle of a dagger wedged into his side.

"Die you fucker!" Aegon ragged. Daemon's eyes grew in panic seeing his attack had no affect. Aegon was running on pure adrenaline.

"Fuck" Daemon chocked. Aegon tightened his grip even more, he could feel his blood flowing out but his strength did not betray him, he had to hold on for her, for Viseryn.

"You killed an infant, you killed an innocent woman" Aegon hissed. His tears turned to ones of happiness as Daemon's eyes began to turn in his head and his withering grew weaker by the second. His hands that were wrapped around Aegon's wrists fell down to rest on Aegon's thighs digging his nails down by to no use.

"Daemon!" Aegon's head snapped up at the sound of Rhaenyra's scream. Aemond and Daeron both were holding her back as the battle resumed to rage around them. Her golden crown swayed and fell with her fighting.

"Do you sweet sister know what our uncle did?" Aegon asked. He raised Daemon's head up and slammed it down on the ground harshly. Daemon's legs kicked and fought but the fight in him was slowly dying.

"He killed my wife in cold blood. He sent his men to rape and kill her. He made her watch as they killed her son in front of her" Aegon yelled. Rhaenyra's fighting ceased and she fell to her knees. Her eyes wide in shock and her head shook from side to side in denial.

"I came back to my room to find my wife holding the broken body of our infant son, his throat slit open and his head half smashed, his arms in all weird angles and his legs broke, he was but seven moons!" Aegon yelled. His eyes turned to Daemon, Daemon's eyes were turning red as the vessels burst in his eyes.

"Die you piece of shit" Aegon hissed as the life flittered out of Daemon's body. He fell limp but Aegon refused to let go of his neck until he was sure that he was dead.

"He killed your daughter sister" Aemond taunted in Rhaenyra's ear. Daeron moved to the side noticing the maddened glint in Aegon's eyes grow.

"He killed your grandson" Aemond whispered in her ear. Aegon satisfied with Daemon's dead body, he stood up and turned to face her. Daeron's eyes widened at the sight of the dagger sticking out of Aegon's side, he ran to fetch a maester.

"Sunfyre" Aemond let go of Rhaenyra hearing his brother's dragon screech in response from a distance before landing near them, crushing men around them under his feet.

"ipradagon" Eat. Aegon ordered. The golden dragon screeched again before coming down to bite through Rhaenyra's middle breaking her in half.

Aegon's wound finally affected him and the blood loss making him dizzy, he fell to his knees. Aemond sprinted over to Aegon supporting him before he could fully fall.

"Hang on, Daeron will bring help" Aemond tried assuring Aegon. Aegon smiled as he held on to Aemond's tunic tightly.

"No, let me die" Aegon wheezed. One of his hands moved to pull the dagger out to assist the blood in flowing our faster and in a bigger amount.

"I will go to them, let me go to them" Aegon whispered. Aemond never thought he would feel pity for his older brother. He never thought he could feel love for Aegon after the bullying but in that moment he felt his heart shatter as his brother died in his arms.

"I'm coming my love" Was the last thing Aegon whispered before he took his last breath. Daeron paused a couple of feet away from his brothers, leaning down on his knees panting in defeat as the maester declared Aegon dead in the middle of the field and Aemond was declared the king after him.

[yallemagne]

So I finished the first season of X-Men: The Animated Series of course. Highlights?

Episode 1 & 2: Night of the Sentinels

Jubilee's father really fuckin sold her out huh? And holy shit the fucking sentinels. Dog, why did you MAKE THEM SO BIG. I had expected like that they started small and got bigger ones when the X-Men were revealed, but no, without even alerting the nation that they were making these robots, they sent a giant ass robot into a mall to capture one teenager.

Me pointing out "huh Morph is getting a lot of moments here, I like it" followed by them immediately dying. Like damn. They really did that. No wonder the creators backed out of having Thunderbird be in Morph's role, that would have just been insulting. Especially since he probably wouldn't have been brought back.

"Tell Cyclops... I made him a convertible."

Cyclops refuses to apologize for leaving without Morph and Beast but instead offers Logan an opportunity for revenge. It's so them. These petty bastards.

Episode 3: Enter Magneto

Beast... you're so silly. So, Beast refuses a rescue by Magneto (he's imprisoned) because "I'm awaiting a fair trial that will prove my innocence"... girl. You are a giant blue man. So, yeah, another case where Magneto was right.

Sabretooth is such a fake-ass bitch, I love it. So, he shows up at the trial causing a ruckus and gets injured and the X-Men take him in and start treating him like their pathetic little meow meow. This couldn't possibly go wrong.

"Come on, they're gonna kill him!" "Good." *turns around* "WHAT?"

"He's a threat." "He was near death." "Not near enough."

They just keep giving Wolverine all the best lines.

Episode 4: Deadly Reunions

Sabretooth, my poor little meow meow... all you did was a few itty bitty kitty murders... That's what Charles is saying at the start of this episode.

Xavier truly does try to get to the root of Sabretooth's anger with some super therapy, but alas, Sabretooth is just That Bitch. We do know that a competent telepath can temper his anger though, just look at Birdy.

They leave Jubilee alone with him acknowledging full well "this man is more dangerous than Wolverine... have fun babysitting!" He's restrained in a chair growling "let me at 'em" as Senator Kelly is being racist on TV and Jubilee very kindly turns it off and he's like "sowwy I'm twying to be a good boy... 😿" So of course Jubilee sees his restraints are hurting his wrists and releases him to help. Hahahaha. Oh girl.

If this were a show being produced today, I could totally see Sabretooth being accepted by the X-Men because "daww look he's angry just like you Wolverine" being drawn out into a longer arc where he actually gains their trust so it creates a genuine rift in the team... but also maybe he's not that patient for a scheme like that.

(also I know the show probably isn't going with the continuity that they're blood-related, but Wolverine telling them Sabretooth is nothing but trouble and getting hit with "but he's just like you 🥺" is very brother-coded okay?? Anyone who has a terrible older brother can relate.)

"Alright you egg-sucking piece of gutter trash. You always liked pushing around people smaller than you. WELL, I'M SMALLER! TRY PUSHING ME!!" << that's some little brother dialogue.

(… Morph would have listened to Wolverine about Sabretooth. Morph knows the Deep Lore.)

Episode 5: Captive Hearts

Callisto saw Cyclops and immediately said "I'm gonna make him my trophy husband", and while that is a valid reaction, no means no, hun.

They literally establish Storm as the Morlock's future Moses basically with her promising to come back for them when the time is right and they feel safe to breech the surface. And then they gave Magneto that role in '97. Ugh. He has the nerve to say Xavier just left them down there when it was in fact Storm that respected their right to self-determination.

Episode 6: Cold Vengeance

I love every time I see Sabretooth, he's just so silly-looking. No wonder everyone else imprinted on him like "hehe silly orange kitty" he's so BIG. He's incredibly top-heavy, just look at his bazongas.

We got through this with no sacrifice of Inuit life but a sombre sentiment that they'll be abandoning the old ways rather than rebuilding their homes.

Episode 7: Slave Island

Jubilee and Gambit have a nice little dynamic. He's the first person Jubilee used her powers to protect and she does it multiple times. I imagine he's like her cool older brother with street smarts.

No wonder Gambit was suspicious of Genosha in '97. Can't really trust that all is well when the foundation of that place was quite literally built with slavery.

This just makes Magneto's "tsk tsk Charles didn't use his wealth and resources to ship a load of UNWILLING Morlocks to Genosha for their own good" comment in '97 all the more frustrating. Man can be a dumbass.

Anyway--- CABLE CABLE CABLE. My silly little big boy.

Episode 8: The Unstoppable Juggernaut

Juggernaut is such a funny guy. I feel like usually, the big guys don't get to be the wise-cracking type, so this piece of shit was fun to watch.

Also just love Colossus, he's perfect.

Episode 9: The Cure

It's hard to feel bad for Warren when he's literally rich and funding a project that can be easily weaponized to hurt mutants. Sure, he was tricked and wasn't actually funding his "cure", but it would have been awful even if he got what he wanted. Just wear one of those collars for the rest of your life, jackass.

HOW IS NO ONE CHECKING IN ON THIS RESEARCH?? This experimentation on human beings is taking place with no government interference???

Pyro and Avalanche are fucking don't even try to convince me otherwise. Pyro, I don't care where you are from, I'm gonna be so weird about you calling every man you meet “darling”.

Episode 10: Come the Apocalypse

The public will see literally any villain and be like "A RENEGADE MUTANT!!" Like yeah sure I think Apocalypse technically is a mutant?? But like they really just profile all criminals as mutants.

Again, not sorry for you, rich boy.

Poor Rogue, having to absorb all these men's damage.

Episode 11 & 12: Days of Future Past

Bishop is a fucking traitor holy shit. Sure he gets better but damn. Girly was really like "The face-eating jaguars would never eat my face." and then was immediately told he was no longer needed.

"Someone... or something has come back through the time portal." "CHECK PLEASE! TIME PORTAL?"

"You kids better behave yourselves; I'm staying behind to babysit."

"Okay, ROUND BOY. Let's dance."

Wolverine has all the best lines.

Wonder why Mystique specifically chose to impersonate Gambit for the assassination. Perhaps he seemed the most likely? Perhaps a grudge against him for his relationship with Rogue?

Episode 13: The Final Decision

I'm so fucking disappointed that the fate of mutantkind lies in the hands of Senator Kelly because, dog, I wanna shoot him.

When you make a giant racist robot factory and even the giant racist robot factory is smart enough to recognize that mutant rights are human rights and so it resolves to protect humanity by replacing it with robots. Fucking dumbasses.

Honestly makes you wonder what the fuck Trask thought he was doing coming back in the new series. He knew that starting up another Master Mold would inevitably lead to the robots replacing politicians' brains with computers and he DID IT AGAIN ANYWAY.

Seeing Chuck and Magnus working together always warms my heart. And then they go right back to being enemies.

That Mister Sinister teaser at the end was... I'm not gonna say it.

[apomaro-mellow]

Taking Care of Business (And My Business is You) 12

Part 11

That was a heavy thing to say. 

To accuse a man, your own father, of murder. That in itself was a lot but to say that he might’ve killed your mother, his own wife, a woman he loved at some point… Well, Steve could understand Eddie’s silence at first. He was ready to speak up when the alpha beat him to it.

“How long have you suspected him?”

“Long enough”, Steve said as he lifted his head from Eddie’s shoulder. “Enough to know that I need to gather enough evidence and confront him for myself before I make any major moves.”

Eddie didn’t need to ask what that major move was. A coup. Although, was it really one if the person overthrowing was rightfully meant to rule in the first place? In this case, Eddie didn’t think so. Still, it sounded like Steve didn’t have much evidence to back it up just yet. So his next question was-

“How much support do you have if you go through with this?”

Steve smiled, appreciating the way he thought. “Let’s save that kind of sensitive talk for when you start studying. Or the bedroom~”, he winked.

Eddie bit his lip, thinking of the kiss they shared. And of the way Steve looked when he woke up that morning. What he wouldn’t give to see more of that. Steve sent him home for that day and offered a driver but Eddie elected to walk and then take a bus back home. It gave Eddie time to think about the past twenty four hours. Steve said he would call on him when the next job came.

Little did he know, Steve sent Robin, his real capo in all but name, to watch over him for the next couple of days. Through her recon, Steve knew about the car Eddie was fixing up, his walks about town, who he talked with, and the club he went to. Robin even went inside and reported to Steve that while he didn’t go home with anyone, he danced mostly with men. 

“You know, you probably could have asked him all these things”, Robin said as they lounged in his room, giving each other facials. “You didn’t have to actually spy on him.”

“But I didn’t~”, Steve grinned, sitting criss-cross. “You did.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “Same difference.”

“You’ve been in this game long enough to know the semantics game.” 

Of course, Steve wanted to learn Eddie’s ins and outs. And of course he knew that he could have accomplished it through more traditional means. But why do that when you had the resources he had access to? And it would all be to Eddie’s benefit later.

Eddie typically kept the car at a repair shop. He was friends with the owner. So when he came in one morning, intent on spending a couple of hours fixing it up, he was surprised when Rick told him someone else had put up straight cash for the rest of the repairs.

“Who the hell would do that?”, Eddie asked.

“Some guy. I don’t know, I didn’t ask questions. He didn’t seem like the kind that you asked”, Rick said, waving a cigarette around. “Got the boys already checking it out to see what other parts we need to order and everythin’.”

Eddie had a sneaking suspicion but just couldn’t figure out why Steve would pay to have his car fixed up. Actually, his first question should have been, how did Steve know about the car in the first place? Eddie thought to call Steve and ask about it but he was beaten to the punch. As soon as he got home, Wayne told him a call had come for him.

So Eddie put on a clean suit. This time, he was halfway through putting his hair up when he paused. He took the hair tie out and let it spill over his shoulders. He wondered what kind of reaction he’d get out of Steve when he arrived.

A driver came to collect him and once he was dropped off, he was escorted to a poolroom where Robin and Steve were in the middle of a game. Eddie got to watch Steve bend over the table and enjoyed the stretch of his arm and back before he must have caught a whiff of Eddie and stopped to straighten up.

Steve laid his pool cue onto the table, then walked over as if in a trance. He came right in front of Eddie and reached out, curling his fingers into the alpha’s hair.

“Like what you see?”, Eddie grinned.

“Like it?”, Steve breathed out and then leaned in close. “I-”

“Should probably get a room”, Robin deadpanned. “Or just have mercy and wait for me to leave this one.”

Steve cleared his throat and backed away. Eddie immediately missed the closeness. But he also didn’t mind saving it for somewhere more private. He didn’t miss the way Steve’s scent spiked just a little though. They’d be revisiting that later.

For now, Steve grabbed his jacket and they went out on a job. Eddie was driving again this time. Being alone was the perfect opportunity to bring up the whole car repair thing.

“Soooo”, Eddie tapped on the wheel. “Were you gonna tell me about paying for my car, or…?”

Steve was looking out the window, chin in his hand. He didn’t look away at Eddie’s words. Eddie watched him a bit through the rearview mirror before tuning his eyes back on the road. He bit his lip, deciding to egg the heir on.

“Are you spying on me, Harrington?”

“I thought it’d be nice. You know, to have something like that done for you.”

“So you are spying on me.”

“Robin’s not a spy, technically”, Steve said, answering his question.

Well now Eddie knew to keep a lookout for any women in slacks and short hair when he was away from Steve starting today. Still, while it was weird to know he he been watched, he couldn’t help but poke fun.

“I’m honestly surprised. I thought you two were attached to the hip.”

“She’s my eyes and ears when I can’t be present”, Steve said. “When you pass your trials, you’ll actually be working more together. Since you’ll be my hands and feet.”

The meeting was at a hotel this time and it went much the same as the last one. Steve handled all the talking. Eddie stayed close by but to the side. It was a nice change in that apparently nobody insulted him nor Steve. The meeting ended well, with handshakes and smiles. 

“Shame they can’t all be like that”, Eddie said on the drive back.

“That family was personal friends with my mother”, Steve explained. “If all’s well, I’ll be speaking with their matriarch. I think she knows something about what went down.”

“Why do you think your old man would do that? To his own wife?” It was somehow easier to talk about when they weren’t face to face.

“He didn’t need her anymore”, Steve said plainly. 

He had what he wanted. The position and an heir he could exploit. What more could he want? The only thing Steve was missing was hard evidence. If he tried to oust his father now, he’d only be seen as a petulant child, trying to rise too early. People either saw him as spoiled, inexperienced, or soft. Even those that respected him did so out of honoring his mother, not him.

“But enough about that. It’s the weekend. Are you free?”, Steve asked, grinning at the back of Eddie’s head. 

“I’m certain you’ve already had your little birdie sneak a peek at my personal planner”, Eddie said. “So you know I have no plans.”

“Then let’s go out. I feel like dancing. I know you know a place.”

“What, like this?”, Eddie asked, gesturing to their clothes. “We’ll stick out like the sorest of thumbs.”

“Since when are you afraid of standing out?”

Eddie let out a breath. Going out with Steve, he didn’t know why he was so hesitant. They were dancing around something that didn’t have a name yet. Any other time if a pretty thing like him gave him those eyes, he wouldn’t think twice. Was it just because he was mafia? Eddie already knew Steve wouldn’t just play with him and toss him to the side. At least, he was pretty sure that wouldn’t happen.

“What the hell, let’s go.”

-----------------

It wasn’t the fact that they were in suits that made them stand out. Men in pressed pants and blazers weren’t uncommon in clubs. But those guys typically went for colors and patterns. Steve and Eddie looked plain by comparison, but Eddie would never call Steve plain. Especially not under the colored lights and watching him go right to the dance floor. The way parted for him like they knew they should move for royalty.

Eddie followed like a sailor lured by a siren. Steve turned right into his arms like he was certain Eddie would be there, no doubt in his mind. And he smiled, pleased. Steve’s hands went right to the alpha’s hair, caressing them before moving down to his shoulders. Steve seemed so natural here, moving his body to the beat and Eddie didn’t know why he was surprised. The omega was very much an heir but it wasn’t like he was locked in a tower.

They danced for a bit more, Eddie’s hands venturing to his waist before Steve was pulling him into a booth. Eddie sat down first and Steve settled right at his side. Feeling bold, Eddie tucked some of Steve’s hair behind his ear and let his nose brush against his neck. With the blaring music, he couldn’t hear so much as feel Steve’s satisfied purr. 

Then suddenly, Steve backed off. “Going to the bathroom. Order us some drinks.”

He went away, using the mirror to check himself over. His hair still looked great, good enough for a certain alpha to run his fingers through later. His neck was definitely looking biteable too. Steve walked out, thinking of what he and Eddie might get up to later when he saw someone had taken his place next to Eddie. They weren’t as close but they were getting there. All Steve saw was red as the upstart put a hand on Eddie’s shoulder and leaned in.

Steve didn’t hesitate to check them, coming right up to Eddie’s other side and digging his hand right up the alpha’s scalp.

“Miss me, baby?”, Steve asked.

Eddie immediately turned to him, eyes darkening. The other man had been instantly forgotten but Steve had to lay it on thick. He nuzzled Eddie’s neck, getting lost a little in that cidery scent. Steve felt a hand come to his waist, grabbing him roughly and he forgot about anyone else in the room too. He forgot about the club, the music, the drinks. Steve couldn’t wait anymore to taste him. 

He used his hold on Eddie to bring him in for a kiss. He thought about their kiss in the backseat. How far would they have gone if they hadn’t been interrupted? Eddie pulled him into his lap, Steve’s legs spread on either side as their kiss deepened. His hips shifted and he sighed against Eddie’s lips.

Eddie parted from the kiss and just watched as Steve slowly moved his hips. Steve was watching Eddie watch him and felt himself get wetter for it. It wouldn’t be long before his pants were uncomfortable. He’d have to get out of them. And there was an eager pair of hands here. Steve leaned in to give him a quick peck and then stood up. 

“Let’s get out of here.”

Part 13

[mermaidsirennikita]

Hey, can you recommend some historical romances that are not set in the regency/ Victorian/ Georgian era. Thanks

Hi! Yes. Also tagging @angel-starbeam who just sent me a similar ask :)

I would recommend:

KJ Charles's Will Darling Adventures (a trilogy, must be read in order, each one is fairly short, HEA). This is an M/M series with a GREAT eye for detail regarding the setting (post WWI/1920s). Will, a working class (maybe middle class?) veteran recently inherited a bookshop, and he ends up getting drawn into espionage and intrigue while developing a relationship with possible (probable) spy and upper class rich boy Kim. And when I say relationship, I mean they're basically fuckbuddies with trust issues at first, but oh no, LOOOOVE.

Adriana Herrera wrote a great novella called The Bootlegger's Bounty—it's set around the 1920s, I think, and it's an MMF romance about a singer coming into contact with a notorious bootlegger/pirate guy and... a bratty guy.... On a ship. Super hot, great vibe, so good.

If you're down for something VERY old school (as in, written in the 80s) and not always the most PC regarding gender roles, I gotta admit that I really enjoyed The Princess by Jude Deveraux, set during WWII (1940s). The heroine is the princess of a fictional kingdom and, after almost getting murdered and washing up in the Florida Keys, ends up in a fake but also real marriage with a grumbly alpha pilot. Basically... to stop the Nazis...? It's crazy. I was a little "yikes" at points, but again, it is wildly entertaining.

We Could Be So Good by Cat Sebastian is an M/M 1950s romance about a pair of reporters who start out as friends before becoming roommates... and then more. It's very soft and sweet, and does a great job with one of the heroes' bi awakening. She also wrote You Should Be So Lucky, an m/m romance set shortly after in the 60s about a baseball player on a losing streak and a reporter assigned to follow him. I enjoyed this one even moooore.

Beverly Jenkins writes a lot of Reconstruction era/pre-Civil War/western romances. Through the Storm is set during the Civil War, and involves the hero and heroine falling in love, only for her to "betray" him before they're latter forced to marry. Indigo, a favorite of mine, is set during the Underground Railroad era (I forget if the war is HAPPENING or if it's shortly before) and involves a hero involved with the Railroad nursing a conductor rake back to health... after which he decides he MUST have her... Forbidden is a Reconstruction-era western about a heroine who's slowly falling for a rich white man and believing they can't be together, except he's actually a biracial man passing for white and struggling with whether or not he should risk revealing the truth to be with her.

Those are just a few, though, she has a lot!

Joanna Shupe writes Gilded Age romances set in New York—all but a few of her historicals are in that era. Some favorites include her Fifth Avenue Rebels series (a bunch of friends end up in scandalous romances with scandalous men following a crazy Newport house party) and her Uptown Girls trilogy (three sisters whose father is a rich politician end up romancing VERY unsuitable men).

The Widow's Kiss by Jane Feather is set during Henry VIII's reign, during which the heroine is accused of killing her fourth husband and the hero is sent to investigate. Henry VIII actually makes cameos lol.

Never Cross a Highlander by Lisa Rayne is set in the 1600s, I believe. The hero is a Highlander who kidnaps the heroine to "save" her, and she's like "my guy, I already had shit in the works". Both of the leads are Black, and I don't know that I've read any other books featuring Black Highlanders.

Jeannie Lin writes Tang Dynasty era romances, which are GREAT. I'd begin with Butterfly Swords, though the followup, The Dragon and The Pearl, is one of my favorites.

I really enjoy medieval romances. Some I'd recommend are:

Highland Guard, a long series by Monica McCarty set in 1100s (I think?) Scotland. The heroes work for Robert the Bruce, and there are a ton of really adventurous, exciting romances that are perfect for people who love BIG Och Aye.

Lord of Danger by Anne Stuart was one of my favorites of the year, with a heroine forced to marry her brother's evil sorcerer (not really a sorcerer) advisor. Both dark and weirdly funny, like most Anne Stuarts, with a great villain hero.

Master of Desire by Kinley MacGregor is another Scottish one, in which the heroine ends up being the ward of a hero who is DETERMINED not to love her.... AND YET..... This has a great grand gesture/grovel move.

Maya Banks writes really good medieval Scottish books. I haven't read too many yet, but I loved Never Seduce a Scot, which has a heroine and hero marry to solve a clan rivalry. However, she's deaf, which a lot of people don't understand, thinking she's not mentally competent. So he doesn't consummate the marriage.... and she very much wants him to.

Laura Kinsale's For My Lady's Heart and Shadowheart are legendary medievals. The first has a knight end up escorting the ice queen princess he's pledged himself to across the country, only to realize that she's much more complicated than he initially realized. Shadowheart is the spinoff, a dark (and kinky) villain romance with a heroine forced to marry the hero, only to start to fall for him... basically against her own will.

Elizabeth Lowell's medieval trilogy is great, but very 90s. Big alpha heroes, not always aging the best, lots of high stakes and intensity.

Julie Garwood's The Bride a must-read border marriage book—a heroine forced to marry the alpha hero, a big crazy plot, high stakes romance. All that great stuff.

A Kingdom of Dreams by Judith McNaught is FABULOUS, a medieval in which the (apparently unlikable, rebellious) heroine is kidnapped by the hero, during which he realizes he bit off MUCH more than he can chew.

[arcadiabaytornado]

I want to talk about Rachel’s junkyard letter to Chloe because it contextualizes her relationship with Frank and Mark. (Note: She is more than likely talking about Mark here. Frank doesn’t seem wise, and he is scary, but in a pretty conventional way. Mark will even say that Frank was Rachel’s bad boy phase in Episode 5. Plus, “We hooked up near campus,” also points to Mark.)

This note has a lot of substance regarding the nature of Rachel and Chloe’s ambiguous relationship, but that’s not really what I want to talk about...for today at least. Instead, I want to talk about how this is so clearly a note written by a young woman who’s way over her head. She acknowledges that Chloe would find her relationship with Mark gross, and she then says that if Chloe freaked, “she wouldn’t blame her.” She then elaborates on this point by saying she has to keep her relationship with her teacher a secret because she knows that Chloe would be right to react with disgust. Max even says that Rachel sounded confused and ashamed about this relationship. 

But what's somehow even more alarming is Rachel referring to Mark as scary, and honestly, that just breaks my heart. We don't know what Mark did, but we know that Rachel had already been in a scary situation with an older man. In Frank's RV, we can find a letter where Rachel says that Frank went ballistic and frightened her. She was an eighteen-year-old girl, at the oldest, and in an RV with a drug dealer who was losing his shit. Then she meets Mark. Another older man who has power over her grades and future. She hooks up with him, but...she finds him scary too. We don't know what he said to make her this way. Or what he did. Or if Rachel just got a weird vibe...but she was in her second relationship in her young life with a man who scared her...and she was right to fear them both. Especially Mark. 

More Undercut

Rachel Amber was not a seductress. She was not a harlot sent to lead the men of Arcadia Bay astray. Rachel Amber was a victim. She was eighteen years old and dated men who had power over her, not just in their age, but in drugs and grades. She feared each of them, and no one could save her in time. She died in the darkroom. Overdosed on Frank's drugs while Mark took photos of her body. And yet...such a tragedy so often boiled down to "She hurt Chloe's feelings!"

As much as I love Chloe, that's not the worst thing to happen in this situation. The worst thing to happen is the grooming and subsequent murder. I know that’s kind of harsh phrasing, and I really hope I'm not coming off as overly critical, but I’ve noticed that Rachel’s relationship with Frank and Mark is often talked about in terms of how it affected Chloe instead of how it affected Rachel.

And while, yes, Chloe’s feelings were hurt, and that shouldn't be minimized, Rachel's relationships with these men affected Rachel more than anyone. That's not to say I'm opposed to talking about how Rachel's relationships hurt Chloe!!!! Because they did!!! I'm just saying that it makes me uneasy how Chloe is sometimes treated like the biggest victim of Rachel's relationships when Rachel is dead at the hands of the men who groomed her.

Sorry that I went off on a tangent at the end there, but I’ve never liked it when characters are boiled down to their romantic relationships, and I tend to think that what happened with Frank and Mark should be looked outside the lens of Amberprice a little. Just like I think Chloe deserves an analysis of who she is as a person outside the lens of Amberprice and/or Pricefield.

OKAY I have got to end this post because that was another tangent but quick thoughts: A: Rachel was a victim and it seeps through every letter of this note. B: Rachel deserved better. C: I wish the Mark/Frank situation wasn’t often boiled down to how it made Chloe feel. I feel like Rachel’s character is sometimes not given the analysis it deserves because of it. 

[isabelawritesthings]

Goodbye

Pairing: Books!Jon Snow x Books!Daenerys Targaryen

Synopsis: The battle against the terrifying supernatural forces of the North is coming, but Jon and Daenerys are not ready to say goodbye.

Warnings: SMUT in the beginning (receiving oral), incest? (Jon and Daenerys don't know they are related), mentions of death, goodbye.

Word count: 597

AN: Since GRRM said he doesn't know if he'll ever finish the books, I'll give Jon and Daenerys what they deserve: happiness.

Daenerys's screams of pleasure grew louder as she neared her climax, lowering her head to see Jon with his mouth between her legs was a wonderful sight. The dragon queen grabs the young man's black hair as she reaches her limit.

“Did you like it?" He asked, getting out from under the blanket. "Yes, very much... Where did you learn that?" Jon lay down next to his lover. "I'd rather not talk.” The two hug each other in the bed.

That last year had been complete chaos. Cersei and Tommen dead, Rhaegar's supposed son marrying Arianne Martell and taking King's Landing claiming he's the new king, the others getting closer to the wall, Daenerys managing to take Dragonstone after the death of Stannis Baratheon and his family. But everything in Jon's arms seemed to not exist, they being her greatest comfort.

"The Manderlys are sending four thousand men to the Wall to help in the fight." Jon starts playing with Daenerys's silver hair. “Who are they? They seem to be quite loyal to your family.” Jon hugs Daenerys closer. "The Starks welcomed them to the North after they were driven from the Reach by House Gardener, they feel they owe us eternal loyalty for that.”

“I wish I could know more about the noble houses of the Seven Kingdoms... Viserys just said that any house that didn't support my father in the rebellion deserved to have its lords hanged.” Jon gives a light laugh. "Viserys must have told you so many lies about us that he could write a book about them if he were alive.” Daenerys's smile fades. "But he isn't... Now I'm the one who has to bear the burden of honoring our house name... I'm literally naked in bed with the son of Robert's greatest supporter.”

“Don't say such things." Jon sits on the bed. "I also feel thoughtful knowing that I am the lover of the daughter of my grandfather and uncle's murderer, but we are not our fathers, we decide our own destiny.” He kisses Dany's hand, a sweet and soft kiss, as cold as his lips. "I need to go back to the North tomorrow, Sam sent me a letter saying that the others are getting closer to the wall every day.”

Dany had a sad expression on her face. "I don't know if I can do it without you, my dear, I fear that Aegon and the Martells will send fleets at any moment to attack me here on the island.” Jon lays back down on the bed. "You have three dragons, don't you? They grow bigger every day, you could burn any ship if you wanted to.” Dany begins to caress Jon's cheek. "Everyone wants me to be a queen, but deep down, I'm still the little girl who dreamed of the house with the red door in Braavos.”

“Just like I was the little boy who just wanted to be a Stark, and look where we are now... I'm sure you can do it.”

The next morning, Jon was on the beach at Dragonstone preparing to return North, but not before Daenerys showed up.

“Do you really need to go?" She asked, she was beautiful as always. "You know I need to... I can't leave my sisters alone in Winterfell." Daenerys approaches. "Come back to me, please." Jon smiles before kissing the young queen on the lips. "Hold on a little longer, my love, and I promise I'll come back to you." Jon said, before getting on the boat that would take him to the ship.