#edit: I fucking forgot his black cracks

[isame-allen]

Was like “since i made a bibical accurate(ish) dream might as well do it to vanta as well”

[msphagime]

Don't worry, she'll beat him to shit later, she just has to get rid of the Boltons first

[mingi-s-dimples]

Blood Oath - Seonghwa

"you taste... you taste like sin."

bonus scene ~ bathed in desire

pairing: vampire seonghwa x divine entity fem!reader

genre: 18+, vampire au, filth

summary: After centuries of pursuit, you finally surrender to the Lord himself. In the dark of his embrace, he swears an oath—eternal love, eternal possession.

wc: 5.7k

warnings: vampire lord!seonghwa, divine entity!reader, power play, possessiveness, light obsession (he wants the reader forever and has been persistent with winning her over), heavy making out, neck kissing, neck biting, choking, vampire fangs (idk if it can be a warning but), vampire bites, blood sucking, looots of marking, praising & body worshipping, oral sex (both f and m), he ests her out, dacryphilia, biting, size kink, huge dick!seonghwa (he was a vampire after all), overstimulation, missionary, bending over, hiar pulling, deep throating, bloodplay (he fucks her while drinking her blood), manhandling, some aftercare, no hongjoong was not peeking he came in the room after quite some time, completely consensual, for sure forgot something, unprotected (boo use protection irl!!!), might edit later.

Author's Note: I ain't even going to hide it anymore. Has anyone thought of the fact that writers always add the bath scene in the end.. but not a lot of them actually detail what happens in that moment of aftercare or if it's actually aftercare..? No more waiting!!! I wrote a bonus scene of Seonghwa and the reader spending some sweet steamy time in the tub, and it's steaming hot. 😋 I can't wait to post it. I love vampires oml.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way.

The castle stood silent beneath the weight of the midnight hour, the heavy air thick with something unspoken. The towering chamber, adorned with black marble and flickering candelabras, felt like a prison, trapping the tension that crackled between you and him.

Lord Seonghwa.

A name that struck terror into men, that sent entire kingdoms to their knees. A name synonymous with power, desire, and ruin.

And yet—You were the only one who had ever defied him.

You stood before him now, bathed in silver moonlight, your arms crossed, an amused smirk tugging at your lips as he stared at you—his crimson eyes dark, predatory.

"You’re staring again, Seonghwa," you murmured, voice laced with amusement. "Careful, someone might think you’re desperate."

His jaw clenched so hard you swore you heard it crack.

"You think this is a game?" His voice was lower now, rougher. Darker.

You took a single step closer, just enough to let your perfume slip into his senses, just enough to let the warmth of your body make him ache. "I know it is."

He inhaled sharply, his fists clenching at his sides.

You had been tormenting him for months—years, if he were being honest. Every look you gave him, every soft breath, every time you allowed him close but never close enough—you were his downfall, his undoing.

"Say it," he rasped.

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. "Say what, vampire?"

He was in front of you before you could blink. His cold hands seized your waist, pulling you, your body flush against his. His breath was ragged, his control razor-thin.

"Say that you want me," he commanded, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Say that you burn for me the way I burn for you."

You exhaled a soft, teasing breath, your fingers tracing the intricate patterns of his black silk shirt. "Why would I lie?"

His grip tightened, his fingers digging in as a growl vibrated through his chest.

"You cruel thing," he muttered. "You love this, don’t you?"

Your fingers trailed lower, barely grazing his stomach, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch.

"You make it too easy, my lord."

His fangs lengthened at your words. He ached for you. His entire being was consumed by the thought of having you—owning you, marking you, ruining you.

"You don’t know what you’re doing to me," he gritted out, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath shuddering as his hands traveled lower.

"Oh, I know," you whispered, letting your lips ghost over his. "I know exactly how much you want me."

A sharp, broken sound left his lips. He was at his limit.

"You enjoy seeing me like this?" His voice was wrecked, a raw, dangerous whisper. "You like knowing you’re the only one who has ever made me beg?"

Your smirk deepened, and you slowly, deliberately tilted your head, baring the delicate column of your throat to him.

"You’re a vampire, Seonghwa," you murmured. "Starvation is part of the curse, isn’t it?

His control snapped.

In a single, fluid motion, he had you pinned against the grand canopy bed, his body caging yours in. His lips crashed into your throat, kissing, tasting, devouring.

"You are cruel," he groaned against your skin, his fingers sliding up your thigh, gripping hard. "Do you know what you do to me?"

You gasped softly as his fangs scraped over your pulse, a warning—a promise.

"Then take what you want," you breathed, arching slightly against him.

Seonghwa froze. You felt his breath stutter, his hands trembling where they held you.

Slowly, he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His crimson eyes were blown wide with hunger, his lips parted, his entire body shaking with restraint.

"Say it again," he whispered, his voice so desperate it sent a shiver down your spine.

You dragged your fingers into his raven-black hair, tugging him closer.

"Take what you want, vampire lord."

A sharp, guttural growl ripped from his throat.And then— His fangs pierced your skin.

A sharp gasp left your lips as molten heat surged through your veins. Your hands tightened in his hair again as his mouth latched onto your throat, drinking you in, consuming you.

A moan rumbled deep in his chest, his grip on you bruising as he finally— finally— tasted the one thing he had longed for.

"Mine," he rasped against your skin. "You are mine."

His lips were relentless, his hands everywhere—gripping, touching, claiming.

You shuddered beneath him, the intensity of his hunger overwhelming, intoxicating.

"Yours," you whispered, your fingers fisting in his hair.

Seonghwa pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips stained with your blood, his breath ragged.

"Say it again," he pleaded.

"Yours."

A sound somewhere between a growl and a groan left his lips before he crashed his mouth against yours, kissing you with a hunger that bordered on madness.

He would ruin you. And you would let him. The taste of you was his ruin.

Seonghwa had thought he understood hunger before. He had believed he knew what it meant to crave, to ache, to desire something so fiercely it bordered on madness.

He had lied to himself. Because this? You? You were his true starvation.

His lips were still stained red, his breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps as he pulled back, crimson eyes wild. His grip on you was bruising, his entire body trembling as if the taste of you had shattered something vital inside him.

"Seonghwa—"

Your voice was breathless, teasing, knowing. And it broke him. A guttural growl tore from his chest, and before you could so much as blink, his fangs were sinking into your skin again.

You gasped sharply, fingers tangling in his hair as he bit into the soft curve of your shoulder, groaning against you like a starved beast. His body caged you in, pressing you deeper into the silk sheets as he devoured you, lips trailing down, fangs scraping, sinking, claiming.

You moaned, your body arching into him, and his grip tightened on your hips, fingers digging in.

"You taste…" he rasped, pulling back just enough to drag his tongue over the fresh wound. His voice was wrecked, desperate, fucked out from nothing but the taste of you. "You taste like sin ."

You let out a soft, breathy chuckle, your nails raking down his back, feeling the way his musclescshuddered beneath your touch. "Then why do you look like you want to drown in it?"

His head snapped up, his gaze locking onto yours.

And you knew. You had pushed him. The last thread of his restraint snapped .

A growl rumbled from deep in his chest as he yanked your body beneath him, his lips trailing down, lower, lower , his mouth finding the delicate skin just above your heart—

And then he bit .

Harder.

Deeper.

Your back arched off the mattress, a sharp moan escaping your lips.

Seonghwa groaned against your skin, his hips pressing against yours as he drank deep , as if the taste of you had possessed him, made him something darker,hungrier .

"Seonghwa—"

Another bite.

You gasped, a whimper slipping free, fingers gripping his hair as he worshipped you with his fangs, with his lips, with his body .

"You are cruel ," he groaned, his tongue laving over the fresh wound before sinking his fangs into your neck this time, groaning at the feel of your pulse against his lips.

You shuddered beneath him, heat coiling in your core, your breaths coming in ragged, uneven gasps. "And you are obsessed."

His hands tightened on your thighs,spreading them apart as his hips pressed flush against yours.

"You're mine ," he growled, voice low, dark,dangerous .

You smirked, tilting your head, offering your throat to him again .

"Then prove it ."

A snarl left his lips—

And then he ruined you. He wouldn't stop. He didn't want to stop.

Your taste was a drug, and he was past the point of no return, past the point of anything resembling restraint. His lips moved feverishly , fangs sinking into your skin again and again—your neck, shoulders, collarbones, wrists—each bite deeper,needier , as if he were engraving himself into your very soul.

Each time he pulled away, his lips were red-stained, his eyes crazed , his breath ragged. " Mine ," he groaned against your pulse, hands sliding under your clothes, desperate, trembling. "I want— need —to feel you. All of you. No more barriers. No more teasing."

His fingers gripped the fabric of your clothing, his hands shaking as if he were on the edge of madness—but still, he waited. He needed you to say it.

And you did.

Soft. Breathless. A whisper against his lips.

" Take me, Seonghwa. "

A ragged moan ripped from his chest as his hands tore at your clothes. He stripped you down slowly , reverently, his fingers skimming your skin as if you were something holy , something meant to be worshipped .

His lips followed every inch of exposed flesh—his fangs trailing , scraping, nipping—marking you with deep red blossoms of possession.

" So beautiful, " he murmured against your stomach, pressing his lips to your hip bone, his fingers gripping your thighs. " So perfect. "

When you reached for his shirt, he let you pull it over his head, let you trace the sculpted lines of his body, your touch so soft, so delicate that he shuddered. And then you looked up at him—those wide, innocent, puppy eyes that made him snap.

" Fuck— "

His hands grabbed your waist, pushing you further onto your back, spreading your legs apart so abruptly you barely had time to gasp before his lips were on you.

A desperate growl left his throat as he devoured you, his tongue moving with deliberate, sinful precision, as if this was what he had craved for centuries.

You cried out, your fingers tangling in his jet-black hair as he moaned against you, as if your pleasure was his own undoing.

"You taste—" he groaned, his grip tightening on your thighs as he sucked at your clit. "You taste like I was made to worship you."

You whimpered, arching against him, losing yourself in the feel of his tongue, his lips, his fangs grazing against your trembling skin—

And Seonghwa just kept going.

Seonghwa parted your thighs with reverence, spreading you open as if you were something holy, something meant to be worshipped.

And he would worship you.

His gaze devoured you, hunger painting his features as he lowered himself, his lips brushing along the inside of your thigh. He inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering shut as if the very scent of you had him drunk, dizzy, wrecked.

Then—

His fangs sank in.

You gasped, back arching as his sharp teeth pierced your delicate skin. The sting bled into something pleasurable, something unbearably intoxicating, as his tongue followed, lapping at the fresh mark with a deep, guttural groan.

"Your blood…" he rasped, voice wrecked, lips feverish as he trailed open-mouthed kisses up your thigh, his fangs scraping teasingly over your hypersensitive skin. "Your taste—it’s going to ruin me."

Another bite.

A sharper moan spilled from your lips as he sucked the wound, his tongue flicking over it in slow, torturous strokes before his mouth moved higher. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place, his lips ghosting over your core, his breath hot and heavy against your damp heat.

And then—

His tongue flicked against your clit.

A ragged cry tore from your throat, your hands flying to his silken black hair, fingers twisting as he moaned, the vibrations sending a shockwave through your body.

He devoured you.

Lips sucking, tongue lapping, fangs grazing—he kissed you there with the same sensual, ravenous hunger that he had kissed your lips, his hands digging into your thighs, holding you still, keeping you open as he lost himself in the taste of you.

"So fucking sweet," he groaned, voice muffled as he suckled on your swollen bud, his tongue rolling in slow, lazy circles, making your thighs tremble around his head. "So fucking perfect."

Your breath hitched, your hips jerking, chasing the friction, but Seonghwa chuckled darkly, pressing your thighs down as his tongue dipped lower, teasing your entrance, tasting you with slow, languid strokes that made you sob his name.

"Look at you," he rasped against your slick folds, his voice deep, ruined. "Falling apart on my tongue. And I’ve barely even started."

And then he sucked, deep and harsh, his fangs grazing against your trembling skin as he dragged you closer and closer to the edge—

And he had no intention of stopping.

Seonghwa was cruel.

He was slow, teasing, dragging you through the flames of anticipation as he trailed his lips over your trembling thighs, his tongue flicking against your feverish skin between sharp, indulgent bites.

"You shake so beautifully for me," he murmured, his voice thick with desire, with hunger, his fingers kneading into the soft flesh of your legs as he sucked another deep, bruising mark into your inner thigh. "Are you afraid of how much you need me?"

You weren’t afraid.

But you were losing your mind.

His sharp fangs scraped your thigh again, dragging slow and deliberate before he kissed the mark—before his tongue flicked out, lapping at the wound with a groan so shamelessly sinful it sent a shiver down your spine.

You could feel his smirk against your skin. He knew what he was doing to you.

And he loved it.

Then, just when you thought you’d break, when your hips rolled up desperately seeking his mouth again—

His lips met your core.

A sharp cry tore from your throat as he licked a slow, sensual stripe over your folds, his tongue curling, tasting you thoroughly, deliberately, his groan vibrating against your soaked heat.

"You’re dripping for me," he rasped, his voice drenched in hunger, fascination, his fingers spreading you apart so he could see, so he could taste every drop of your arousal. "So needy. So desperate. And yet—"

His tongue flicked against your clit in a featherlight touch—so soft it made you whimper, made your hips jerk up, chasing the feeling.

He pulled away.

A dark, low chuckle left his lips, his breath fanning over your soaked folds, sending a shiver down your spine. "Look at you," he purred, amused, pressing a kiss right above where you needed him most. "Falling apart before I’ve even touched you properly."

"Seonghwa—"

"Ah, ah…" His fangs scraped your inner thigh again, making you jolt as he bit down, sucked, leaving another violet stain against your trembling skin. "Say it properly, sweetheart."

You whimpered, thighs trembling around his head. "Please…"

His lips curled against your thigh.

"That’s it," he murmured, voice dark with approval—and then, finally, he devoured you.

His mouth closed over your clit, sucking, his tongue flicking against the swollen bud in rapid, merciless strokes.

You sobbed his name.

Your body arched, your hands flying to his dark hair, fingers twisting as your thighs tried to squeeze around his head, to control the pleasure, but Seonghwa didn’t let you.

No, he pinned your hips down, growling as he held you open, drinking in every desperate, ragged moan as he buried himself in you.

His tongue licked into you slowly, teasing before he thrust it in deep, curling, stroking, before dragging up to flick, suck, devour—his pace relentless, his lips and tongue working in perfect sin to drive you straight to the edge.

"That’s it, sweetheart," he praised, his voice wrecked, his lips glistening as he suckled on your clit, rolling it against his tongue with purposeful, agonizing precision. "Give it to me."

Your thighs trembled.

Your back arched off the sheets, your hands yanking at his hair helplessly, gasping, shaking, your entire body a mess of heat and electricity as his mouth ruined you, owned you, claimed you.

And then—

He groaned into you. The sound vibrated against your core, sent you spiraling, sent stars bursting behind your eyes as the coil in your stomach snapped.

A shattered cry broke from your lips as you came hard, your body tensing, then shaking, then melting into the pleasure as his tongue kept moving, coaxing, soothing, lapping up every drop as if he could drink you in forever.

Seonghwa moaned as he pulled away, his fangs gleaming, his lips and chin glistening in the low candlelight.

"Fuck," he murmured, his voice dark, reverent, his fingers stroking up your trembling thighs as he licked his lips, tasting the remnants of your release with pure, feral satisfaction. "You taste better than anything I’ve ever had, sweetheart."

And you knew he wasn’t done with you yet.

Seonghwa was breathing heavy, his chest rising and falling with raw restraint, his fangs peeking from under his parted lips. He was starving. Not just for your blood. For you.

His fingers flexed against your thighs, his body taut with aching desire, with the need to take. To devour. To mark you so deeply you’d never belong to anyone else.

But you—

You just lay there, your body glowing under the candlelight, flushed and ruined, your chest rising and falling with every shallow, controlled breath.

Still playing with him.

Still teasing him even after he’d made you shake, sob, cum on his tongue.

His jaw clenched, his hands tightening on your thighs before he exhaled a shaky breath, dragging himself away from your heat before he lost all control.

His fingers went to the waistband of his pants.

Your eyes followed.

The moment the fabric hit the floor, your lips parted.

His cock sprung free, thick and aching, the flushed tip glistening with precum, standing proud against his sculpted stomach.

You swallowed. Seonghwa noticed. And it fucking destroyed him.

A dark, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips as he wrapped a long, elegant hand around his shaft, his fingers flexing, gripping himself, stroking slowly—so slow it made his breath shudder.

" What’s wrong, sweetheart? " he teased, voice deep, wrecked, thick with lust. " You look nervous. "

You met his gaze with that same unbothered, innocent expression, tilting your head, feigning nonchalance as your thighs instinctively pressed together.

Seonghwa chuckled, his grip tightening, his wrist twisting with every slow, purposeful stroke.

" Do you want to take care of this yourself? " he murmured, voice dark, indulgent, his fangs flashing as he hissed in pleasure. " Or should I keep going? "

The answer came immediately. You pushed yourself up on your knees, your body fluid, graceful, shifting to the edge of the bed until you were face to face with his cock, looking up at him with wide, feigned innocence.

Seonghwa inhaled sharply, his jaw tensing, his control hanging by a thread.

" Eager now, aren’t we? " he murmured, amusement laced with pure, agonizing hunger.

You didn’t answer. You just licked your lips.

His hand shot to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair, not forcing, just holding—just watching as you breathed him in, as your hands slid up his thighs, as your nails dragged over his taut muscles, sending a violent shudder through his body.

And then— He slapped his cock against your lips. A wet, filthy sound filled the air as his heavy, aching length met your soft, warm skin, precum smearing across your lips, marking you, teasing you. Seonghwa groaned, low, guttural, his head tipping back at the sight of your pretty, swollen lips glistening with him.

" Look at you, " he murmured, breathless, desperate, tapping his cock against your lips again, smearing his arousal against the curve of your mouth. " My perfect little thing, finally where she belongs. "

You still didn’t answer. But your lips parted. And Seonghwa lost his mind.

Seonghwa’s patience was hanging by a thread.

You were kneeling before him, lips parted, eyes wide, your breath warm against his aching, leaking cock—and yet…

You weren’t taking him in. You were toying with him. A soft, delicate kiss was pressed against his swollen tip, your lips barely brushing over the precum that had gathered there. A soft, barely-there flick of your tongue followed, innocent, playful, tasting him—teasing him—but never truly giving him what he needed.

Seonghwa’s fingers tightened in your hair, his breath hitching as he watched you pull back just slightly, lips glossy, eyes still full of that damn feigned innocence.

" Sweetheart, " he murmured, voice wrecked, low, dark. " You’re playing a very dangerous game. "

A flutter of your lashes. A mocking tilt of your head.

" Am I? "

Seonghwa growled, the sound inhuman, sending a chill down your spine.

" You think I’ll let you keep teasing me? " His fingers tugged you closer, his cock pulsing in his grip. " You think I’ll let you play with me like this? "

You only giggled, lips grazing his cock again, just barely, your hands sliding up his thighs, light, teasing, before pulling away again.

Something inside him snapped.

" Enough. "

With one firm tug, Seonghwa tilted your head back, forcing your mouth wide open, fingers tightening in your hair as he angled you just right—

And then he thrust in.

The sound that left you was a mix of shock and pleasure, a soft whimper swallowed by the sheer force of him, by the way he filled your mouth, stretching you past your limits.

" That’s it, " Seonghwa groaned, voice shaking, head tipping back at the warmth of your mouth, the way your tongue pressed against his throbbing veins. " Finally behaving. "

Your hands flew to his thighs, nails digging in, trying to steady yourself as he pushed deeper—slowly, purposefully, making sure you felt every inch as he slid down your throat.

Until he hit the back. Until your nose met his pelvis. Until he buried himself completely inside you, the sheer size of him bulging in your throat, a perfect outline of his cock visible against your delicate skin.

" Fuck, " Seonghwa shuddered, his free hand brushing over the bulge in your throat, pressing just slightly, feeling himself inside you.

Your throat tightened around him at the pressure, and he swore loudly, his grip in your hair tightening, his cock throbbing.

" You feel that, sweetheart? " His thumb traced the bulge with dark fascination, a deep, satisfied growl rumbling from his chest. " That’s me— sweetly deep in your fucking throat. "

You let out a soft, muffled moan, your tongue flexing, sending a jolt of blinding pleasure through him.

His breath was shaky, his control hanging by a thread. And then— He pulled back. Just an inch. Just enough to let you breathe for half a second— Before he thrust back in, this time faster, rougher, forcing you to take him completely once more.

Your nails dug into his thighs, your body trembling, eyes glassy as he set a deep, steady pace, fucking into your mouth inch by inch, watching the way your lips stretched around him, the way your throat clenched, the way your eyes fluttered shut with every thrust. He was losing himself in you. You were ruining him.

" Mine, " Seonghwa rasped, his grip unrelenting, desperate, possessive. " You’re fucking mine. “

Whatever restraint he had left had shattered the moment he saw the tears glistening in your eyes, the way they spilled down your flushed cheeks as you struggled to take his impossible length.

You were choking on him, your throat clenching, tightening with every desperate gasp, every helpless little whimper that vibrated against his cock.

And fuck, that only made him thrust harder.

" Look at you, " Seonghwa hissed, fingers tangling tighter in your hair, holding you firmly in place as he fucked your throat open. " Crying on my cock like a good girl. "

You gagged, saliva dripping down your chin, your hands shaking against his thighs as he hit the back of your throat over and over again—relentless, deep, merciless.

Your lungs burned, your body quivering, but you could feel his cock throbbing, the tension in his muscles coiling tighter, the deep, wrecked groans falling from his lips becoming more desperate.

He was close. And then—

Seonghwa’s grip tightened, his hips snapping forward one last time, burying himself deep, making sure you took every inch, making sure you felt him as he came hard down your throat.

A low, broken growl tore from his chest, his cock pulsing, thick ropes of hot cum spilling down your throat, forcing you to swallow quickly or risk choking. But there was too much.

A gasp caught in your throat as the warmth overflowed, dripping from the corners of your mouth, running down your chin, your neck, staining your skin as you trembled beneath him.

Seonghwa groaned, watching the mess he made, watching the way you struggled to swallow every drop, your body shaking with the effort.

" Swallow. All of it. " His voice was low, hoarse, his thumb swiping across your lips, pushing the stray drops back into your mouth.

You obeyed, blinking up at him, teary-eyed, cheeks flushed, mouth still slightly open, a soft pant escaping you as you caught your breath.

And fuck—Seonghwa nearly lost it again.

" You look so fucking pretty like this, " he murmured, voice shaky, his thumb brushing over your lips, pressing down gently before he pulled you up by the hair.

Before he flipped you over.

A gasp left you as you were suddenly bent over the bed, your cheek pressed against the sheets, your body still shaking from how he just wrecked your throat.

And then— You felt his hands on you. Roaming. Exploring. Gripping.

You let out a soft whimper as he yanked your hips higher, pressing his aching cock against your soaking folds, dragging it along your wetness, teasing you, taunting you. But before he could push in, before he could claim you completely, he did something else first.

He bit you.

A sharp gasp left your lips as his fangs sank into your back, right between your shoulder blades, deep, hard, sending a jolt of pleasure and pain through your spine.

He groaned as your blood filled his mouth, hot, sweet, intoxicating.

His tongue flicked over the fresh wound, soothing, before he sucked harder, drinking you in, devouring you, desperate to have more, more, more.

" Mine, " Seonghwa growled against your skin, his hands tightening on your hips, his cock throbbing against you. " You’re mine, sweetheart. "

And then—He thrust in and he snapped.

The second he buried himself inside you, the second your tight heat squeezed around his cock, he lost it.

" Fuck— " his voice broke, his grip on your hips bruising, his breath ragged against your spine. " You’re… so tight, sweetheart—so fucking tight for me. "

He pulled back, just enough to let you feel the stretch, to let you feel the obscene thickness of him dragging against your walls—

Before he slammed back in.

A cry left your lips as he hit deep, so deep you could feel the ache in your stomach, the pressure, the way your body adjusted around his impossible size.

And fuck, Seonghwa felt it too.

His hand slid down, pressing against your lower belly, feeling the way his cock was bulging through your skin, how stuffed you were, how completely ruined he was making you.

" God… look at you, " he groaned, pressing down harder, watching the way you shuddered, how your walls fluttered around him. " You feel that, sweetheart? Feel how fucking deep I am? "

You let out a whimper, biting your lip, trying so hard to keep your composure, but—

Seonghwa wasn't having it.

With a low, wicked chuckle, he snapped his hips forward, hitting that perfect spot so precisely that you choked on your moan, your nails digging into the sheets.

" Oh, don’t hold back now, " he taunted, voice dripping with hunger, fangs grazing the curve of your shoulder as he thrust into you again—harder, faster, making your body jolt forward with each movement. " You wanted to tease me? Let’s see how well you can take it, pretty girl. "

A wicked idea flickered through your hazy mind—

Between his punishing thrusts, you arched your back, pressing your ass against him, grinding down on his cock, making it feel even tighter, even deeper.

" You little— " His fingers tightened around your throat, yanking you back against his chest, his other hand gripping your thigh, spreading you wider for him. " Do you enjoy testing me, my love? "

You gasped, eyes rolling back as his cock hit that spot again, as his fangs pressed against your pulse, as the pleasure overwhelmed you.

" S-Seonghwa— "

" That’s right. " His voice was dark, possessive, his tongue flicking over your rapidly beating pulse before he sank his fangs in.

The moment his teeth pierced your skin, his hips pounded into you faster, harder, sending you spiraling, sending you straight into oblivion.

You cried out, body tensing, clenching, your orgasm hitting you so violently you could feel the heat explode through your veins, feel your walls fluttering around him, feel the pulsating grip you had on his cock.

And fuck—that was it for him.

Seonghwa let out a guttural moan, his rhythm stuttering, his grip tightening as he bottomed out one last time, cock throbbing, filling you with his hot, thick release, marking you in every possible way.

But he wasn’t done. Not yet.

" One more time, sweetheart, " he whispered, pressing soft kisses against the new bite on your throat. " I need you again… I need to ruin you all over again. "

Seonghwa didn’t move.

Even with his cock buried deep inside you, even with the aftershocks of both your releases still lingering between you, he simply held you close, forehead pressed to yours, his breath shaky, his lips ghosting over your skin as if he never wanted to part from you again.

But he wasn’t done yet. No—this wasn’t over. It couldn’t be.

His fangs slowly retracted, the predator in him finally soothed, but his hunger for you was far from satisfied.

Not yet. Not until he gave you all of him.

Not until you understood just how much you meant to him.

With a soft hum, he tilted your chin up, his dark, obsidian eyes searching yours, his expression unreadable—until he leaned in and kissed you.

But this kiss was different. It wasn’t full of desperation or lust. It was slow. Deep.

His lips moved against yours with reverence, as if he were worshipping you, memorizing you, pouring every ounce of devotion and love he had for you into that single kiss.

You melted, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him closer, your heart pounding at the way he sighed into your mouth, like this was all he ever wanted.

He rocked his hips forward. Slowly.

A long, languid thrust that had you whimpering softly against his lips, your walls still sensitive and raw from the last time. But there was no rush now.

No hunger, no desperation—just love. Pure, unfiltered love.

" Let me love you, " Seonghwa murmured against your lips, his hand cradling your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. " Let me show you how much you mean to me. "

Your breath hitched. Because this—this was what you wanted. What you craved from him. What you had teased him for, tortured him for—for him to give in, to devote himself entirely to you, to confess what he truly felt. And he was finally doing it.

You could feel it in the way he moved inside you, his thrusts deep and slow, his cock stretching you perfectly, hitting every spot with precision, making you tremble beneath him.

You could feel it in the way he kissed you, how he took his time savoring your lips, breathing you in, as if he needed you more than blood itself.

And you could feel it in the way he whispered against your skin, each word sinking into you like a spell—

" I love you. "

A sharp gasp escaped you, your hands gripping onto him, your nails digging into his back, because fuck, the way he said it— So softly. So vulnerable. So genuine.

" I love you, " he whispered again, lips brushing over your cheek, your jawline, your neck, his words melting into your skin, sealing themselves into your soul.

" Let me have you forever, " he pleaded, his voice trembling, his thrusts growing deeper, smoother, his fingers lacing with yours. " Be mine, and I’ll give you everything—eternity, devotion, love—everything. "

A choked moan left you, your body tightening around him, your heart pounding wildly, because fuck—you could feel it.

The intensity of his love. The depth of his devotion. He wasn’t lying. He would give you everything. And for the first time—you let go.

" I’m yours, " you whispered, your voice soft, breathy, full of need, and fuck—that sent him over the edge.

His cock twitched deep inside you, his pace stuttering, a deep, broken moan tearing from his throat as his release spilled into you, filling you up one last time.

And the moment he felt you clench around him, the moment he felt your entire body tremble, your orgasm washing over you like a slow, sensual wave, he kissed you again, swallowing every whimper, every sigh, until the both of you were left panting against each other.

—

Seonghwa pulled out slowly, making you whine softly at the loss of fullness, at the way his warmth left you empty, but he was quick to soothe you.

His fingers traced every bite mark, his lips pressing soft, tender kisses over each one, admiring the evidence of his love on your body.

His fangs were gone, retracted, his hunger finally sated.

And now—all that was left was devotion.

" So beautiful, " he murmured, running his hands down your sides, marveling at you, at how thoroughly ruined you were for him.

He wrapped you in his arms, pressing your sweaty, exhausted body against his chest, holding you close, his fingers rubbing soothing circles on your back.

You were his. Forever.

" Come, " he murmured after a moment, shifting to sit up. " Let’s take a bath. "

You barely had the energy to nod, your limbs weak, but as he moved to stand, Hongjoong’s teasing voice floated through the room.

" Bath, huh? " he mused from the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, a knowing smirk on his lips. " You sure that’s all you want to do in there, my Lord? "

Seonghwa rolled his eyes, but the smirk that tugged at his lips was undeniable.

" Would it be a crime if I wanted one more round? " he murmured, nipping at your ear playfully.

You chuckled, your tired body still buzzing with warmth, and as you snuggled into his embrace, you whispered—

" I think I could handle one more. "

“But let's get you washed up first, my love.”

And just like that—the night was far from over.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @atiny1 @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @atzlordz @chai0tea @miyaluvvsyou

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Yandere! Male! idol x manager! gn! reader

WOOOH finally able to update. I got busy due to working for a summer reading camp. Woop tee doo... At least I got money for a new phone LMAO

And we finally, FINALLY finished the second set of yans! For now, no new yans will be done, and will be focusing on the boys!

Song featured: Too Sweet by Hozier

EDIT: I FORGOT THAT I MADE ELIAS THE SIBLING OF THE YAN! IDOL AND ALREADY NAMED HIM ZAYNE! I'll probably just change Zayne's to Tae-Joon.

Yan! Idol name: Raven/Tae-Joon

The deafening lights and cheers of the people in the gigantic stadium rang around the building. They kept cheering, almost shaking the whole place from their energy.

As the band started playing the intro song, the cheers suddenly amped up in intensity with the focus going back on the stage. Each and every lightstick glowed red, flooding the whole area with a scarlet hue.

The bass pumped, the music riffed, the vibe electric.

The stage fogged up, covering the whole place before the cheering got louder when a appeared in the fog.

Then, there he is.

"HOW'S IT GOING CITY OF [redacted]!"

A charismatic, boyish smile, with pearly white teeth that blinded the secret paparazzi in the crowd, with a tall and lean stature that encompasses talent and discipline in one body, and facial features that make people swoon even in just his photocards.

"RAVEN! RAVEN! RAVEN!"

The man, the idol named Raven, started to sing. His voice was smooth and low as the romantic yet also sensual lyrics pour out of his pink lips.

It can't be said I'm an early bird

It's ten o'clock before I say a word

Baby, I can never tell

How do you sleep so well?

He goes up to the edge, swinging around the mic stand as if it was a dance partner. One can hear the passion going off in his tone as his messy hair got flipped upward.

Don't you just wanna wake up, dark as a lake?

Smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze?

If you're drunk on life, babe, I think it's great

But while in this world

He gets on the middle of the stage, and the pedestal raised as the spotlight went to him.

I think I'll take my whiskey neat

My coffee black and my bed at three

You're too sweet for me

You're too sweet for me

Everyone was seduced, everyone was mesmerized. Raven gave off seductive energy that they held their breath every time his gaze penetrates them. And some even assumed his gaze was on theirs, making them squeal.

It was truly a night for everyone in the stadium.

After almost two hours of performing, Raven, with sweat pouring out of him but still managed to look amazing, descended down on the stage hatch.

But the once shining star back in the stage suddenly threw his beret on the ground.

"FUCK! What was that buzzing sound in the dance break?!" Raven yelled. "Are you serious?! I thought we went over this!"

The people in the back started to groan inwardly. There he goes again.

"Ah... Tae-Joon..." The director said, "We made sure to reprimand the lights and sounds..."

Raven, or rather Tae-Joon off stage, clicked his tongue in anger. "Whatever. Bring me my coffee! I need a break."

"But you can just go home after the cleanup. Do you still want coffee?"

A naive voice said, obviously new to the scene as she juggle with her box of wires.

She's a big fan of Raven and pulled a lot of strings just to be there. A bit bold, she decided to be the concerned type of staff and berate him of his beverage choice.

Yet she absolutely cannot see the pale faces and the dread sticking on the visages of the people around her. She's in too deep in her tunnel vision of Raven to notice his microphone cracking. Another thing to add to the casualties.

"You... What's your name?" Raven glowered. The fan can feel her heart rate pick up as she told her name. "Oh. You're new. All i could say is..."

Raven got up to her and glared at her much smaller form "You're fired. Get out! Nobody gets to dictate what I damn drink!"

The woman was too stunned to speak as she got dragged out of the venue.

This is Raven. Or in real life, Tae-Joon. A charming man in his own right, in front of the public, he's a gentleman with a seductive touch. Talented, with a handsome visage, he's an international idol.

But in reality, he's one hell of a spoiled brat.

"I WANT MY COFFEE NOW!"

Somehow, because of his sheer dumb luck and his reputation, nobody from his staff decided to expose him for what he really is.

He's full of himself and loves to gloat about his own achievements. And one thing he makes sure to take advantage of is his looks.

He brushes his hair back, shaking off sweat (ew) yet somehow looks so ethereal as he clicked his tongue in annoyance, mesmerizing his staff.

He even went as far as to feed his delusional fans and stans.

He's that far gone.

"Where the hell is my coffee!"

"AY COFFEE!"

He's awful to everyone.

Except...

"Tsk. Tae-Joon... If I hear you yell one more time!"

Raven cowers a bit, pouting as he slithers towards his manager.

"But manager~!"

As if he's a new person, Raven clung to you. His head on your shoulder as he played with your left hand.

"I want my coffee and none of these incompetent people are giving me my coffee!" He whined like a child complaining to his parent. "Scold them for me pwease!"

The staff, used to it, sighed in relief as your deadpan look didn't tolerate Raven's rudeness. On your right hand is his coffee that you handed to him.

"Manager! Thank you so much!" His eyes wide and appreciative, he sips on it and sighs in relief. "Ah... So good... This is why I love you, manager."

Goodness. He's putty in your hands.

Tae-Joon was once a trainee. He's naturally good looking already so he's being pulled left and right by companies to be in their side. He's an uncut gem, a diamond in the rough waiting to be polished. They saw his potential and wanted a slice of his being.

The once sweet boy, hardened by the harsh training, became a gloating hardhead from the way these people fight for him. After all, he was just a quiet, ambitious guy in highschool. He wanted more, and he got it through hard work and natural charm. And now, years later, he's about to reach his dreams.

Yet once he got in the company of his choice, his demands were... Too much.

"I need to share a dorm with others? No way!"

"Ugh the mattress is too stiff."

"Seriously?! You want me to train for five hours a day?! Two hours! Just two hours!"

"What are these clothes?! These are not branded!"

"No way that I'm performing in that small stage. I don't care if I'm pre-debut, that is ass!"

"Trash beats. Next."

The company was exhausted. He's not even raking money in, yet he's too demanding for his own good.

Desperate, the company opened their doors for a babysitter manager that has a "calm and pleasing personality", "trait that can work in high stress situations", "adaptability", "great leadership skills and authoritative", and can "teach those who are under them". Aka: someone who can tame the damn bird.

That's where you came in.

You were just a fresh graduate in desperate need of a job. Nobody was hiring you since you're new, and needed more experience.

The hiring process was intense, to say the least. You had to herd rowdy children and change them to upright good kids in 10 days. You somehow did it and even got gifts from the grateful parents. Next, you had to juggle schedules and ridiculous demands. Then, you had to endure being yelled and insulted at.

Your mind, heart, and body are now made of steel from that hiring process and you're the only one who rose to the top.

"Congratulations. Here's your care. His name is Tae-Joon, stage name Raven." The head said, nervous and hopeful that you with Tae-Joon will change his attitude.

Tae-Joon raised an eyebrow and sneered. "Ugly."

You were flabbergasted. This is a supposed to be future idol?

But you can only manage a twitch on your lips.

It was hell with him. You thought the hiring process/training regimen was bad, but this was something else.

A explosive personality, he's sassy and mean to a point of wanting to face palm through your head. You had to physically reel him in at some point just because of a hater.

But unlike the others who cowered and tolerated his behavior, you were stern with his behavior and lectured him most of the time.

"You can't just yell at miss Park just because she messed up your order!"

"Get the hell up! You're going to be late to your training!"

"Who the heck do you think you are, ripping up clothes like that huh?!"

You were feisty in your own right and constantly butt heads with him.

But even then, even just with you around, he's just a growling beast cowering from your lectures as you yelled at him.

Yet, even if as you yell at him, your caring hands wiped his sweat off and gave him his water. If somebody actually messed with him, you would lecture that guy. And there are some times that you laugh at his antics and shake your head.

You treated him like an actual human with feelings, rather than a ticking time bomb.

Slowly but surely, Tae-Joon clung to you. You were his only ally in this godforsaken industry and the only one who understood him. You also didn't tolerate his personality and shaped him to be somehow decent.

And, as his manager, you cared for him like nobody did.

Your lectures became less frequent, and he had more instances to see where you smile at him proudly as he finally had his solo debut. More time to talk to him normally, and had small, intimate moments that fuels his social needs.

And as his fame skyrocket, you were always there, waving his lightstick and being his number one fan.

Understandably, he fell for you.

He started to be openly affectionate with you, constantly confessing his love to the point that management had to tell him off to stop being so open with his affection since paparazzi can take a video or picture and ruin his reputation.

He honestly doesn't care. But with you raising an eyebrow at him, he pouts and only becomes clingy in private.

He'd rather hold it in than nothing at all.

And hell be damned if someone took you away from him. Because he may be somehow tolerable now, but that's only because you're there with him.

Raven just got back from practicing for his new song, and was totally exhausted. He dragged his feet, clearly irritable especially that you weren't there with him.

The staff knew he's not in a good mood so they steer clear of his way.

"Have you seen my manager?" Raven asked a staff who only shook their head. "'kay..."

He looks so depressed that the people around him took pity on the guy as he trudged towards the head.

He passed a meeting room and he heard your voice.

"Another Tae-Joon?"

Another him? What?

He decided to listen in and he heard the managerial head clear his throat.

"Yes. Since Raven is calmer now, we think he needs to move on to another manager. You, on the other hand, will be training another... Hothead."

You held your head, feeling a headache incoming.

"No way. I'm not going through that again. I went through hell with Tae-Joon before. I'm not repeating that."

Ouch. Tae-Joon held his chest, a bit saddened by your words. Well, it was true but it didn't mean it didn't hurt.

Yet... You're not going to be his manager anymore?

Strangely, he felt the numbness creeping up his nape.

"No buts, y/n. You're going to be transfered."

"Did you ask Tae-Joon about this?"

"... Yes, Raven gave the thumbs up."

Liar. LIAR!

Tae-Joon wanted to rush in the room and shake the managerial head until he faints. He didn't give the thumbs up at all!

But he's strangely rooted in place as he heard you sigh.

"Okay. Where's this guy?"

"His name is [redacted]. He'll be here by Monday so be prepared."

When you finally finished the meeting, you went out of the room yet felt a lingering warmth by the wall.

Meanwhile, Tae-Joon rushed towards the trainee building. Eyes cold yet body tense. He wanted to see who the hell is this [redacted]. Nobody, as in nobody will be yours. Only he can be yours.

The trainees were flabbergasted as they saw Raven in the flesh, gawking at his presence and bowing in respect.

Tae-Joon didn't care. He wanted to see where this [redacted] is.

Room 5, and he bursts open through the door.

"What the hell- Raven?" The guy was slack jawed, starstruck. "I'm- I'm a big fan--"

Tae-Joon grabbed his collar and looked him in the eye. It was filled with unbridled rage yet at the same time, bone chilling coldness.

"Fix your fucking attitude." Tae-Joon warned. "Don't be over your head, worm. You better be goddamn nice or else I'll lob your head off."

[redacted] felt like it wasn't just a baseless joke, so he swallowed his saliva and nodded.

"Now. I better see you demand a transfer to the group idol department. You hear me? You aren't debuting solo." Tae-Joon tightened his grip. "Understood?"

It reached the ears of the head that Tae-Joon threatened [redacted]. But don't know what. All they know is that [redacted] pleaded to debut in a group and was suddenly meek and quiet when he transfered departments.

Yet, they somehow knew it had to do something with you, as he clung to you desperately for a week after that.

Then and there, they knew to never, ever try to separate you from him. If they don't want to let go of their greatest asset and set him off.

So, despite how dangerous Raven has become, they forced [redacted] to be quiet by... Not so savorable means.

"You're not leaving me, right?" Tae-Joon whispered, looking exhausted yet satisfied as he hugged your waist.

You, who just realized how deep Tae-Joon is in his affection, sighed and rubbed his head. "I'm not."

And it better stay that way.

[dolli3fication]

hey. cuddling with lin lie...........cuddles......teeth rotting kind of sweet...........him just feeling safe and at peace for once............ can i ask for u to write that??? u still take requests right????

A silent night Lin lie x f!reader fluff

GASPPPPPWED Yes I'm taking requests...This is such a beautiful writing prompt. YES I'LL WRITE IT!! Note: Lie comes home after a reckless battle out in the open, dragging himself to the readers arms for a colourful cuddle session (BONUS READER IS A RANDOM). Tries to be a nonchalant warrior but is literally chalant final boss. hehe, will probably edit it when I get the time..idk it's just for fun and isn't a proper one uGHHH ignore the spelling mistakes idk the word count. My prelims are starting so I'm going to probably avoid writing a lot for the sake of my future career This is super short! but, enjoy reading, nonetheless <3

It's been a long week for Lie. Well fuck, a LONG and exhausting week for him. He managed to get through it barely unscathed, making useless excuses to salvage very little campus reputation he has. He forcibly dragged himself down the hallways ragged carpet, the sole of his shoe scraping with heavy friction, technically defining himself as a walking husk. His head felt empty and light, only processing one thought at a time. Lie had always dealt with this kind of fatigue, let alone the throbbing pain, brewing with zealous fires in his arms. Though his body screamed for him to drop dead, his head pushed to reach its objective. His dorm. He grunted, nearly tripping over his own feet. Luckily, his right hand slammed into the hallway wall, a meaty support beam holding him up. It was also fortunate he was a step away from his dorm. A huff of relief exits his lips, his scarred hand ran through his short black locks before trailing down to his pockets. His thick fingers shuffled around the sophisticated space only to realise.. Shit. His keys were gone. leaning his forehead against the smooth wooden door. He rests his eyes, he felt like an absolute dumbass for losing his only access to taking regaining his youth back. He was definitely closer to becoming senile at this rate. Lie let out a low groan before sluggishly dragging himself once more. But to where? God knows where... His state of mind was no where near conscious, but the thought of a nice and plush duvet caressing his stone like skin fuelled him to bare with the pulsating agony rushing through his body, drunk at the thought of being cushioned on the hard pavement at this rate. Lie lumbered through the dim hallway, each step slow and agonising. Door after door blurred past him, meaningless, until he finally stopped. The clock strikes 2 in the morning, no students should be wandering at this time. You had just returned from a steamy shower, comfortably suited up in your pajamas. Comfortably positioning yourself in your bed, feet and hands tucked in your flurry blanket. You’re just about to switch off your night light, ready for a good night’s rest, when a long, slow creak stops you cold. Your felt yourself tweak a little. Your eyes twitched, was it someone crashing in your dorm this late? a thief? There was too many possibilities, but you landed on the possibility your roommate was finished sneakily getting laid. You could have sworn your roommate was spending the WHOLE night at her boyfriends dorm, maybe a changed of heart?... You slipped on your furry slippers, carefully peaking your head out of your room. The main door was slightly open, dim light seeping through the small crack, had you forgotten to lock the door? You made sure to double check the lock was on before showering. Now you felt nervous at the thought you clumsily forgot the simplest routine. The tips of your fingers felt cold as you took a step out of the comfort of your room. You opened the door, only to meet a tall figure towering over you. A refined silhouette perfectly outlined by the light, shadowing over you. You gulped, nervous at the sight before you. "can I..help you?" Lie's eyes felt empty, you felt as if you were staring into void. You could only hear a barrage of mumbles under his breath that you couldn't quite make out. That moment felt endless until he stepped in, you instinctively stepped back, eyes fixed on the tall figure who moved forward without a trace of sobriety. "Haha,,uh...what are you doing ???" You nervously laughed, but he only grew closer to you. Lie couldn't make up what was in front of him. In fact, his face remained locked in a pokerface, no wrinkle of emotion evident. Everything was a haze and your futile attempts to reason with him was only a distant harmony soothing his ears.

It felt uncomfortably odd that in front of you was a weary Lin lie. You didn’t even get a word out. Your foot caught, balance lost, and you went down, your nape hitting the couch with a dull thud before the rest of you crumpled after. You mewled, "Oof!" Your hands rushing to position yourself up, you tried to prioritise your safety, you were in a panic. Lie on the other hand, didn't know what possessed him at that moment, steadily crept on top of you, pleasantly laid his head against your chest while his arms wrapped around your torso. The warmth that exuded from your body welcomed his muscles to loosen, he was pathetically snuggled against your body. The friction against you felt delightfully ethereal. Mind you, he did all of this with his eyes open. Lie’s head lay gently against you. His weight wasn’t overwhelming, just enough to feel present. You could feel your face go absurdly red, your heart pounding out of your chest. You would’ve been certain this was a dream, if not for his heavy arms chained around you—wrapped so perfectly, it was as if they were made for you. Your breath hitched delectably, arms raised above brick level over his head. You were doing backflips in your head, internally screaming ,fawning and drooling over a delightful view before you. Your nostrils flared with every breath, in and out, too many times to count. You could trace out every stoned abs pressed against your feeble body without even trying to feel it. "H-hey..GET UPP!!" A silent scream caught in your throat as you struggled to ease the Greek god of a boulder off you—gingerly. You smacked his forearm multiple of times, but it was no use, he was built like the Great Wall of china, withstanding every feeble force. You've never crossed paths with Lie, let alone initiate a proper conversation with him. Sure, he was smoking hot, a little behind the course work in your class but to think you could be a metre near him, let alone a breath away. Even as you tried to tug him off, you couldn’t help but smile. Quiet giggles escaped, and his head gently bobbed with each rise and fall of your chest. You tried to resist, really. You tried to take it seriously, but the fear was washing off you. Your wondered where he went to return in such a clouded state, it heavily concerned you. "Mmm.." Lie shuffled a little, his grip tightening around you causing a small gasp to escape your lips. You were awkwardly situated in a weird pose that hardly allows movement on your end. "Hey..you alright?" you breathe, fragile. You couldn't tell whether his eyes were rested based off your perspective, you could only assume he was half awake, literally and figuratively. "Long week. Been getting my ass worked to the curve." He mumbled into your chest, the soft vibrations humming through you. You were rhesistant, hesitant on laying your hands on this perfect piece on you. But, you eventually run your fingers through his black hair, small light strands tickling between your fingers. Your hands leisurely wandered down to his shoulders, palms kneading the stiff flesh on his shoulders. You bit your lip, mustering the courage to respond. "Want to talk about it?" you murmur. You thoughtfully wriggled yourself down. Your nape was unbearably positioned on the armrest of the couch, scooting down to greedily take a closer look. Lie too shuffled to his comfort. He shakes his head slowly. "Just... wanna stay here a bit." You felt yourself shake with excitement, mentally fanning yourself. His voice was rough and slow, low enough for you to hear a faint rasp. This was the closest you were with him, it felt far too greedy. “Okay,” you whispered, mostly to yourself.

His arms shifted slightly around your waist, pulling you in without a word. It was casual, like instinct.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “You can stay as long as you need.”

He hummed in response, a low, tired sound that made your skin tingle.

A pause settled in, not awkward, but weighted. His fingers idly traced the hem of your shirt, and your thoughts scattered like leaves in wind. Lie has never felt so secured, so sheltered in someone he doesn't know. He would cringe at himself if he was conscious enough to notice.

His breath hitched once, then steadied again, lips barely moving as he mumbled, “Your shoulder’s too bony...”

You blinked. “What?..”

“Feels like... laying on a coat rack.” He nuzzled in closer anyway, proving he didn’t actually mind that much.

You snorted quietly, smoothing his hair. “You have a choice between my bony shoulder or the armrest, which, spoiler alert, is literally wood.”

“Mm... tragic options,” he muttered, clearly falling deeper into sleep but still stubbornly offering commentary. “Need... couch upgrade. Memory foam. For...vip comfort....”

He made a faint noise that might have been a laugh or a snore honestly, it was hard to tell at this point.

He slurred, eyes still shut, voice drifting in and out like a poor radio signal. “You’re warm. And... not a coat rack. Just... moderately uncomfortable.”

You felt the last of his weight settle fully against you, his breathing slow and even now, deep and steady like ocean waves against a quiet shore. He was out. Completely.

The room was still.

No hum of conversation, no rustle of movement — just the soft rise and fall of his chest against yours, the faint tick of the clock across the room, and the way your own breath started to unconsciously match his.

Your hand rested lightly on his back, fingers no longer moving, just there, a gentle anchor.

You weren’t even sure when your eyes had closed. Just that the air felt warm, your limbs heavy in that comfortable, boneless way. Your thoughts slowed, drifting somewhere between wake and sleep, soft and quiet and entirely at peace.

His warmth wrapped around you like a blanket. The kind that made you forget the world outside the moment you curled beneath it.

Your last coherent thought was something silly, something small , he really is kind of a furnace.

And then nothing.

[elliereject]

ifhy .2

* in which ellie’s obsession relationship with you begins to sour as your romance with your new boyfriend seems to flourish. it seems she’ll stop at nothing to ensure your happiness, (which you’ll find with her, obviously) even if it means hurting you in the process.

* lowkey obsessive ellie, ellie beats someone up, angst + comfort (next chapter(s), infidelity, unrequited feelings yet also mutual pining (just read it like, idk idk I forgot how to do these),lmk if I missed anything!

* HELLLLLOOOO!? oh my god 100 likes on part 1 and over 100 followers??? ty? so much?? <3 the next parts almost done so I gotta tweak some things but I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! I meant to post this like 2 days ago but I fell asleep editing…

* mdni

* wc ~ smth like 1.8k

pt .1 here ★ pt .3 coming soon

“Are you seriously wearing that?” You sighed, flopping back on Ellie’s twin bed.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Ellie asked, eyeing her worn skinny jeans and a black oversized hoodie.

“First, there’s a hole in the side of your hood. Second, you wore that 3 times this week already.”

“No, I didn’t. These are different jeans!”

You groaned, “Ellie it’s a party, live a little.”

She let out a small laugh, “Says you, you were literally on the verge of throwing up like 5 minutes ago. Did whatshisname text you?”

She crossed her fingers in hope that he hadn’t.

You rolled your eyes, “You know his name, and he said he got there about 20 minutes ago and’ll meet me near the living room.”

“Cool, cool.” She said stiffly. “We should probably get going then.”

You jumped up from the bed, practically skipping over to the door. “Finally, you take a surprisingly long time to get ready.”

She didn’t. She was just trying to drag out the amount of time she had before she saw you clinging to your boyfriend and laughing at his stupid jokes.

She was still trying to find a way to show you that he was a dick and she was what you needed but all the ideas she had ended up with him dead and while she was considering it, you probably would have a hard time forgiving her.

The two of you trekked down to the elevator and while your back was turned she couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to slip her hand into yours. How would you react? Would you recoil? Or would you squeeze her palm? Ellie was never really a touchy person yet she made some exceptions when it came to you, however nothing as intimate as hand holding.

And something screamed at her, begging her to try. Her fingers itched by her leg and before she knew it she was stretching out her arm.

Close…so close she could feel the warmth radiating off you.

In a moment you whipped around and she didn’t have enough time to retract her hand.

“What are you doing?” You asked, tilting your head in a way that made her heart ache.

“You just had a uh– a piece of lint.” She lied easily as she picked nothing off your sleeve.

“Oh, thanks! Easier to get rid of then a hole, huh?” You let out a giggle and stuck your finger through said hole, she forced a laugh.

The rest of the ride down Ellie urged herself not to have any more daring thoughts.

Once down, you cracked jokes about your professor and weirdos in your classes, and Ellie tried her best to laugh along, all the way to the frat where the party was being held. Once you made it, you shoved past the sweaty bodies in the living room to look for your boyfriend whilst Ellie shrunk into the kitchen to confide chat with Jesse who was busy chugging a twisted lemonade.

“Jesse. I want you to thank God you aren’t a lesbian.” Ellie groaned, pulling the drink from his lips and taking a swig herself.

“Shit. What happened now?” He sighed, reaching past Ellie to grab another. Ellie’s been moping about you to Jesse for a while now, although he doesn’t really know it’s you because she doesn’t wanna fuck up the way her friends view your guys’ relationship.

“I was walking behind her earlier before we got into the elevat— classroom. And I was like 5 seconds away from grabbing her hand.”

“And why’s that a bad thing? I thought you liked her.” He asked in between sips.

“Because she has a fucking boyfriend! And that would’ve been so embarrassing I think I would’ve bit off my tongue and killed my self right there.”

Jesse let out a low whistle and Ellie crossed her arms. “Don’t you have any advice for me, or are you just gonna stand there?”

The man shrugged, “You’re not gonna like what I have to tell you. Have you tried talking to Joel about any of this?”

Ellie shook her head with a sigh, “He’s busy with work as is, I don’t wanna bother him with this shit when I barely even get to talk to him.”

“Well then, you should prob—hey! ★ what’s up?”

Their conversation was cut short as you walked into the crowded kitchen. With no luck in the living room, you decided to retreat there to talk with your friends while periodically checking your phone for any missed calls or texts.

Ellie noticed the worried look on your face. “Hey, hey. He’ll call. And if he doesn’t he’s a fucking idiot.”

She urged you to try and live in the moment and reassured you again that’d he’d call soon, even though she hoped and prayed he didn’t.

You gave her a small smile and muttered “I guess.” Before taking the red solo cup she offered you and downing it. Eventually, Dina joined your little trio and you temporarily forgot all about him since you were having so much fun chatting with your friends.

Ellie, still smiling, excused herself to the washroom after announcing she had to piss and thank god she did because the scene she stumbled upon literally made her laugh with joy. She had been looking for a reason to beat the fuck out of your boyfriend and did she find it.

After mistaking one of the bedrooms for the washroom—since every fucking door in that house looked the same—her eyes immediately landed on the familiar lanky figure who was shacking up with some tiny brunette bitch.

“No fucking way!” She guffawed, completely amused.

“Please, it’s not—“ Your boyfriend started, pulling his lips from the girl and straightening out his shirt.

“I’ve been looking for a reason to beat your sorry ass! This is just perfect.” She laughed manically as she stomped into the room, slamming the door behind her and cracking her knuckles.

The girl he was previously with was shaken to her core, and practically sprinted out of there. Before he could get out another word, Ellie’s fist was already crushing his face.

“You dick, God I knew you were an asshole but this is just—wow! Cheating on her when she is most definitely the best you could ever do?” Another punch and he was on the ground.

Blood was leaking from his nose and his lip was split. Suddenly she was on top of him, her fists flying. His glasses were broken and tears ran down his face pathetically.

She’d bottled up her emotions for so long; her love for you, her jealousy towards him, her anger at the entire situation, that it all muddled together and bursted the bottle, sending shards everywhere.

Ellie has always been an innately intense person, but this, pummelling something that deserved it, someone that she’d been fantasizing about beating the shit out of ever since she’d met them. It felt good.

“Pl-please stop.” He begged, and she halted her fists, but only for a moment.

She scoffed. “Stop? Stop. Man, I should rip your tongue out. Maybe that’ll finally shut you up.”

His eyes widened as he scanned her eyes for any sign of sympathy, of mercy, but all he found was icy green.

“You’re fucking crazy!” He shouted, trying and failing to shimmy her off him.

She shrugged, “Maybe.”

She was about to throw another fist but she heard frantic footsteps speeding toward the room.

“Shit..” She tapped the side of the guy’s face harshly as he was beginning to black out. “Listen, you’re going to get up. Hop out the window and take your ass home, if someone asks what happened say you got jumped. You’re not going to look at ★ again, text her, call, or even breathe near her. Transfer out of her classes and if I even get the idea that you’re thinking of contacting her again, I will find you. And I will rip your tongue out, got it?”

He nodded wildly and she finally got off of him. She watched as he scurried toward the window and hopped out, it was only a few feet, he’d live.

Ellie wiped her stained hands on the inside of her sweater and opened the door just as the brunette from before was about to, she was standing next to one of the frat guys.

“What’s going on?” Ellie said easily, putting a charming smile on her face and hiding her hands in her pocket.

“Where is he?” The brunette asked worriedly.

“Who? It’s just me in here.” Ellie said looking around confused.

The frat boy looked behind Ellie and them at the girl before sighing and turning back around, “Don’t bother me again. Just enjoy the party.”

“B-but—“ She immediately shut up when Ellie shot her a malicious glare.

She strolled out of the room and back toward the main floor to see you sulking on the couch, checking your phone.

“What happened?” She asked, sliding next to you and resting her arm behind you on the cushions.

“He still hasn’t answered.” You pouted.

And for the first time in months she shot you a genuine smile, despite the fact you were talking about him. “I wouldn’t worry about it, don’t think you’ll hear from him anytime soon.”

You smiled at her and she shot you a weird look, “What?” she asked.

“Nothing..you just seem a little happier than usual.” You said, leaning into her arm.

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

tagz ଳ (send me a message to be added!)

@bready101

[moldychefboyardeecan]

Stop Saving Me, Just Love Me.

Chapter 3

tag list: @one-sunny, @lostfliess (if you want to be tagged, please let me know!)

thank the diva @hannahbarberra162 for her help suggesting edits, beta-ing, and commenting <33

a/n: we can breathe..Sanji is here. Oh wait- also, I don’t know what seasoning other people use, I use sazon completa with my eggs so that's what i did :p

wc: 1.7k

tw(again?): spiraling

chapter list | previous chapter (2) | next chapter (4)

Genius. The mirror forgot that part. It remembered the vomit, the shame, the whore—but not the genius. 3. Three things to shame you. Prime. But, one thing came before: Genius. 1. 3. Fibonacci. It makes sense now. You’re in order, at last. The black clouds fade, the noose lifting from your neck. Dipping your face in the water, you start to notice the running mascara. The black clouds hid that from you. You ignore it and wet your face, the water getting you out of your hungover haze. Your head still pounded like a motherfucker, but at least you can feel lucid now. The room slowed down, your two legs on the floor. Stand up. Stand up, goddamn it!   

When you finally do, Your back is straight. Straighter. You, anchored. You put on the clothes he offered you. They were clean– freshly pressed. Like he expected her to be someone worth folding fabric for.

You button the shirt slowly. One button per beat, per breath, per thought. Genius. Genius. Genius. 3. It's all lining up. The jeans hug you well. The belt cinches at your waist. Good. Tight. Real. Wearing his skin. 

You aren't going to write romance. You are going to write life.

Walking out of that bathroom, you are God.

The smell of the ground coffee beans filled the air, placing you back down here instead of the heavens. Following the scent, you are greeted with someone just as divine. The blonde man, cracking eggs skillfully into a bowl, a towel covering his lower half. Sanji turns to you, and smiles. “Thought you went back to bed, bébé.” 

You smile back, trying to match his. Too much? Do I look fucking insane? His energy, his suave. Remember it. Remember everything. Dialing it down, you wave off the sweet names, much as he did last night. “I was..” you trailed off, trying to make an excuse. Something that doesnt say you were reciting the numbers back towards yourself to feel something. “..pooping.” You cringed outwardly at your response, his face softening with laughter at your comical and sad example for a reason. His laugh was calm, steady. Remember that. Find a third adjective. There's no 2 in odd numbers. 

Steady hands, steady hands, like his. The sizzling sound of the oil hitting the pan, His soft humming filling the air like an orchestra. The smell of the eggs and the coffee fill the air. Amaretto, coriander, cumin, oregano, garlic, onion powder, and salt mixed and ground into a small bowl. The aromas dance nicely, feeling like a hearty breakfast from home. 

He pours two white ceramic mugs of coffee onto the counter and offers one to you. "Café, mon amour?" The endearment hangs between you - pretty but meaningless, like the French postcards collecting dust in your childhood bedroom.

“Three sugars.” You replied, keeping the unstable heavy mask on your face. 3. Prime. It’s perfect, and simply, it’s the only balance that feels good on your tounge.You watch your own fingers tremble as they tap the counter - tap-tap-tap. Steady hands. Keep steady hands.

His eyebrow arches as he drops three precise sugar cubes into your coffee. "Trois? Tu as une dent sucrée." He let the lightness from his chest reign free in his tease. The spoon clinks three times against porcelain. 3. Odd. You keep a satisfied smile on your face as he places the coffee on the white marble kitchen island. The liquid swirls, catching light in Fibonacci spirals. “Sit. I’ll take care of you today.”

The words slither under your skin. Care requires staying. Staying means rotting. Your smile stays fixed as the sugar coats your teeth—sticky-sweet delight as the coffee burns your throat.

Stay with him. Study him, just for a while. Let the rot get on your feet before your head. Just long enough to memorize the way the morning light licks the stubble on his jaw, the exact shade of his one visible eye—cerulean, not sky, not navy—cerulean, like the ocean at noon. The other hides behind honey-blonde strands, shaggy but organized, as if even his messiness is curated. His face; soft, warm, white skin. His eyebrow, curled at one of the ends. Note his appearances. He’s the perfect material for the manuscript. 

Rot. The aromas started filling the air again, mixed in with the smell of eggs. Rot. Rot. Rot. 3.Odd. It 's amazing. The way he masterfully flipped the omelette like a chef, his soul on the plate. You sip your coffee again, entranced in him, studying him again. His hands, gracefully holding the cast iron pan, he's beautiful. The mask you beautifully wore for him, to be him. You’re beautiful now, too. “Hungry?” he asks, voice light. His back still turned to you as he folds the omelette like it’s sacred.

You nod. Smile. “Starving.”

He plates it with the same care he gave your body. Like every detail mattered. Like serving you was an offer to the gods themselves.

The omelette lands in front of you. Perfectly folded. Still steaming. A sprinkle of green on top—parsley, maybe. You blink.

“Looks good.” your mouth spat out, while absent-mindedly staring at the breakfast he served you.

“I aim to please, though you don't seem too intrigued, mademoiselle. Something on your mind?” He leans his half-naked body over the kitchen island.

Fuck. Fuck. fuck. FUCK. Can he see through you?

The coffee is warm in your hands and in your throat. It grounds you. Burns just enough to remind you this is real. He watches. Not like he did last night, not hunger—but something gentler. Curiosity.  Take a bite. Look normal. So, you did. The egg melts on your tongue. Velvety. Rich. Familiar. You chew carefully. It 's delicious. You should capture this. Take it, savor it. 

His forearm rests on the table, elbow tucked in. The unlit cigarette dances like a conductor’s wand. There are calluses you didn’t notice last night. Old ones. Cooking scars. Knuckle scabs. A burn just above the wrist. 

His eyes are half-lidded, lazy blue. Studying you.

Mirror it. Look okay. 

“I’m fine.” You nod, chewing. Swallowing. The coffee stings as it goes down your throat like penance.

He leans back. So do you. The chair creaks. His chest rises with a long, slow exhale. Yours does too.

Silence stretches. He watches you eat like he’s unsure if you’ll finish it. You do. Bite by bite. Slowly. Calmly. Every movement rehearsed.

Underneath your skin, there’s a scream pressing against your ribs, fear of the rot reaching you. Fear of forgetting the manuscript of geniuses.

But you keep it tucked behind your smile.

The last bite disappears. You sip your coffee again. Cool now. Now, it should be okay to leave..right?

“Can..I get my stuff.?” You hesitate. 

You shouldn’t hesitate. You are a god. No more guilt. No more apologies. You don’t need forgiveness—you need a keyboard. A pen. A surface to bleed on. You peek at the bed you slept in last night out of craze. a crave. a grave. Doesn’t matter. He’s already immortal now. Immortalized in you. Immortalized for you.  Just get your stuff and leave.

“Take your time, Your bag is still in my room.”

You nod, standing up. Smooth. Graceful. Folded napkin beside the plate like a thank-you note.

“I’ll just—” You gesture lightly toward the hallway, toward the room. “Should only take a second.”

You leave the kitchen and dash into his room, not a thought in mind but to start writing. His room, stepping back onto that hardwood floor like it’s a stage. This might’ve been his apartment; but right now, right now, its your fucking show.  The smell of coffee still stings the air, as tempting as it is to get more, you don't need the energy. You need to get it out. Get the ink out of your body. Get out. Get out. Get the hell out of Dodge. You shouldn't be here, you should be writing. fuck. The feelings swirl back, making everything bright. The pain. Pounding. The craze. Stabbing your mind. You grip the doorframe like a lifeline, as if getting out of the bathroom was an impossible task. You’ll rot. You’ll rot into the floor, you will be the mold he removes. You will be forgotten. You will rot into nothing. 

Unless you write.

Unless you make this real.

Unless you carve his name into something that outlasts that ache. This high.

You stumble through the room, past the sheets that will always smell like him—bourbon, violets, cigarette ash, plot—and you don’t dare look back.

Though something stops you in your tracks, the fire burning the pages full of thought. His lighter, on the nightstand, reflecting back at you, your face in it. If you stay, any longer, the paper of thought burns. Take it. Make him swear your name. Give him something to remember in return for tattooing the answer into your brain. Grabbing it, you leave the room, and run for the front door, the porcelain mask you wore all morning finally slipped, and cracked. 

He heard it crack, too. He saw the cracks.

The paper burns. You will rot. You will become nothing, and stay nothing. You-

“Mademoiselle.” Mademoiselle. The word strikes the back of your neck like a bullet. a bullet wrapped in silk. Hard. Painful. Irrevocable. Yet, still trying to be soft, to batten down the pain. His words were going to kill your career, leaving you bleeding out.

You freeze mid-step, fingers still wrapped around the doorknob like it might bring a heartbeat back to the dying rose in your mind.

That voice. His voice.

Not a demand. Not a plea. Just… a name. Dressed in foreign softness, sweet nothings, wrapped in last night’s warmth. You don't turn around. You can’t. You shouldn’t.

Because if you do—you’ll stay. And if you stay, you’ll rot. You’ll become comfortable. You’ll become dependent. You’ll become her again. Slumped. 5 missed calls. Odd. 

NO! I’m going to write this. I’m going to hold a pen so sharp, the gods will bleed through my words. I found the key. I am going to make my publisher his fucking lock.

“Don't wait up.” Then you finally release and open the damn door.

He doesn’t stop you. He shouldn’t. This isn’t his story. This is yours.

 And it’s not over until your fingers break.

[creative-kny-fics]

Your Giyyu/Sanemi/Muichiro fic series is so cute! You make their antics so entertaining. You havent written these three together for a while, so I was wondering if I could please request a ler/lee switches with them? Please feel free to decline no problem ofc :)

You are right... It's been a while since I did! (I think it took me longer to look for pictures of these three together in some edit than thinking about the narrative)

(Warning: They may contain profanity or mentions of something sexual, read at your own risk-)

Switchs: Giyuu Tomioka, Sanemi Shinazugawa and Muichiro Tokito

You must have a lot of patience to be a teacher, but patience was something Sanemi lacked.

He was reviewing the latest exams that his students, including his brother, had taken, and the results left much to be desired.

'These idiots, why do I expect one of them to get a perfect grade? Hmmm...?', he took the test and analyzed it carefully.

There was no mistake, it was a perfect exam. 'Finally, someone with a brain. Who is this student?'

"Genya Shinazugawa"? Woah... He had really surprised him. He wasn't going to wait until the next day to announce to Genya that he was happy, plus he promised to give his something in return if Genya got better and he was a man of promise.

'I congratulate you, it is the best average you have ever had. I won't say how much it is, you surprised me...', Genya was excited. 'The classes with Muichiro have helped me!'

'What...?', Genya covered his mouth, he was expecting a scolding from Sanemi, but apparently he was too calm to ruin his night, so he would leave it for tomorrow or who knows when.

'So Muichiro has taught him, that boy must have something special'

'And I do...', Sanemi turned around, the youngest was behind him. 'Oh, so it's you. Well, I guess as a teacher and Genya's brother, I congratulate you for helping him to improve.'

'Genya is your brother...? Not seem'

Well, Sanemi's hair was white while Genya's was black, but they were.

'Yes he is, do you have a problem with that?'

'Oh nothing... It's just that, Genya is kind of attractive and you... Well, I think you understand. I still want to know how Giyuu-Sensei came to notice someone with you...', Muichiro shrugged as he smiled and turned around, preparing for his escape.

Giyuu always ate alone, it was not surprising since, according to Tanjiro and Zenitsu, he cannot converse while eating, but only something would interrupt his snack...

'What is that sound?! HEY!!!', Giyuu watched as Muichiro ran past, for no apparent reason to him.

He got up and blew his whistle while chasing him, it didn't take him long to catch up with the minor and right then and there, he punished him.

Any other student would be annoyed, but apparently he wasn't, he shrugged and made a show about not wanting to be punished and so on, all fake.

'Look, I totally understand that it's recess and so on, but that's what there is a court for. Hallways aren't for that, understood?' 'I'm sorry Giyuu-Sensei... I forgot...~'

Giyuu leaned back in his chair, until someone knocked on the door, probably another student who would have been punished by another teacher, or perhaps one of the trio of InoTanZen friends. 'Who-? Oh, Shinazugawa, it's not...-', Giyuu gasped as Sanemi hugged him.

'I missed you, I thought the day would never end...' 'I missed you too, but not now-! ECK!!'

Sanemi is affectionate (in private), and although Giyuu liked that, there was a student present! Their relationship was supposed to be kept secret, but, they are not so secretive as to pretend.

'Ehem, Giyuu-Sensei, if you want to fuck Shinazugawa-San, I could leave... But I recommend you go to a motel. It would be better in your house Giyuu-San, younger brothers can be a problem...', Muichiro smiled cheekily.

Sanemi looked up and didn't even try to hide how angry he was. Giyuu's ribs began to crack from so much force that was in the "hug".

'Shinazugawa... NO' 'Move the fuck Tomioka. This brat and I have some problems to attend to...', Giyuu refused.

He wasn't going to let Sanemi do his show, so he tried to get him out of the punishment room, but Sanemi wouldn't allow it.

And there was Muichiro, enjoying watching that "fight" between both teachers, it was entertaining. 'Stop it, please calm down. This is a boy, we can't do anything with him... Also, I don't think he's even from this school, I've never seen him... BUT STILL, NO!'

'Come on Giyuu-Sensei, show who's boss!'

'Your damn brat has balls... Giyuu, don't you realize he's fucking with us? BOTH OF US!'

Again Giyuu denied, that's how young people were, besides, it was Sanemi's fault that Muichiro now knew about their relationship, right?

Sanemi analyzed his options and smiled, hugging Giyuu, who looked at him curiously and remained alert, Sanemi would probably throw him to the ground and then chase after Muichiro, he wasn't going to allow that, at least not again...

'Have I told you that I love you...?' 'Yes, what's wrong now? Are you going to ignore him?'

'No, but I do expect something to be ignored...', Giyuu raised his eyebrow in confusion and gasped when he fell to the floor, he knew it!

But instead of running after Muichiro, Sanemi had started massaging his hip bones, was that what he wanted him to ignore? How was Giyuu supposed to ignore someone who was tickling him?!

'It's rather immature of you, don't you think Shinazugawa-Sensei?'

'I think it would be more immature if Tomioka starts laughing, he is an adult and serious man after all...'

'It seems like we are understanding each other...'

Great, first they hate each other and now they are making out, which was it still going on now?. 'Hey kid, since Tomioka punished you, why don't you even come here and help me?'

'N-NO!!', Muichiro agreed, he wanted something he could later be proud of.

And I guess Sanemi spoke just in time, because Giyuu also counterattacked, starting to dig into his armpits, causing Sanemi to lose some of his grip.

But, if it's two against one, it's hard for Giyuu to keep winning.

'G-gihive up Shinahazugawa!' 'Nu-uh! Yo-yohou're gohohing to pahahay for thihis! Muichiro, hihis lohoweher ribs!'

'To the order!', Muichiro approached and although Giyuu tried to push him away, he couldn't.

Woah, that kid had extraordinary strength, or maybe Giyuu wasn't putting in too much of himself and was being gentle.

'Aaaw what's wrong "Tomioka-Sensei"? Can't you keep tickling anymore? Is it too much for you~?'

'YOHOHOU TRAHAITOHOR!! YOHOU PROHOMISEHEHED-!!' 'Ooooh yes, I promised no one would know, but you didn't realize I crossed my fingers...~', poorly played Sanemi.

Giyuu's grip began to lose strength, but he was still trying to wage war on Sanemi, but it was all in vain, Sanemi didn't seem to laugh as much anymore... Unless...

'Shinazugawa-San? What happens? Your expression is scary...' 'PFFFT!! I-I'M O-OKAHAY!!'

And apparently now it was even, you tickle someone in their worst spot, you get similarly tickled in yours.

Muichiro found that cool, so he stopped, laughing as the positions were now reversed, Giyuu now on top of Sanemi as he came hard on that sweet spot he had already memorized.

'I thought you learned! Do you seriously think I'm going to allow you to humiliate me again?!'

'YEHEHEHES!! YOHOHOU'RE A MHMHMHMH FUCKIHIHING WAHAHALKIHING TICKLEHEHE SPOHOHOT!!', Giyuu frowned, he didn't know if it was Shinazugawa's ego that prevented him from accepting reality or perhaps, just like Giyuu, he also liked this kind of thing.

Muichiro had nothing more to do there, whatever was next, he didn't want to be part of it, but when he was going to leave... 'And where do you think you're going? You still have 5 minutes left until the punishment ends and I think that's enough time, don't you think Sanemi?'

'Mhm, let's see if after this punishment you learn to respect your superiors better...'

I don't think negotiating at those times is an option, but it doesn't hurt to try, right?

'TOUCH ME AND I'LL KICK YOU IN THE BAHAHAHAHALLS!! EAHAHAHAHA!!'

'Do you want to try it again, Mr? Shinazugawa, since you have younger brothers? Do you want to have the privilege?' 'EEEEH?! NONONO!! AYIE! NOHOHOT THEHEREHEHE!!', I think Sanemi did agree to the privilege...

'AND WHERE WERE YOU ALMOST ALL DAY?! YOU HAD ME WORRIED?!', Yuichiro pulled his brother by the arm, he only neglected him for a few moments and Muichiro was already doing his thing in other places. 'I was just having fun...'

'Oh yeah? And doing what?!' 'Talking to two friends from another school...'

Muichiro looked up, seeing both teachers waving goodbye to him, maybe those provocations weren't so bad after all.

[seriouslysam8]

Hi Sam I stumbled upon Brumous a couple weeks ago and absolutely fell in love with it I recently finished the last chapter and I swear the moment I stoped reading I started having bloody withdrawals Brumous is easily the best piece of fan fiction I’ve ever read and the fact that you have a personal life and can’t just crank out a new chapter for me every day is a horrible tragedy but I digress I read some of your shorter fiction which I also loved and wanted to move on to your other stories but they seem pretty angsty and I cant with some sad shit right now Ginny and Ron are such beautiful visions of sunlight in Harry’s fucked up life and when that relationship is put under strain it’s heartbreaking everything else in Harrys life is so tragic and awful that I need Harry and his Weasleys to be happy I need them to be disgustingly in love and adorable could you please point me to which of your stories I can read without feeling depressed

If only fanfic writer was a paying job!! 🤣🤣🤣

So the happy Harry and his Weasleys are one-shots.

Brio is flirty Hinny with hilarious Ron.

Hide and Seek plus Grimmauld Game Night is pre-dating pining Hinny goodness.

The Demise of Walburga Black is bromance Rarry plus George with a sprinkle of Hinny.

Veracity is borderline crack with George being a menace to Harry.

The chapters stories are more angsty.

Kalopsia is Harry is missing and desperately trying to get home to his Weasleys, Ron is in a coma, Ginny and George try to solve the mystery of what happened.

Entombed is kidnapped Ginny and has one of my favorite scenes ever written when Harry and Ron rescue Ginny. I love it.

Brontide is a steer clear. Harry makes a mistake, hides his problems from his Weasleys, and tries to solve his issues alone. When his Weasleys do find out the truth, they are super supportive and amazing but there is a lot of angst and friction between characters.

EDIT: Effloresce is a cute pining Hinny chaptered story that I forgot about. Scones is cute married Hinny with a focus on their kids. The Curse of the Monthlies is Harry and little Lily Luna cuteness with a sprinkle of Hinny and hilarious good uncle Ron.

[showfallmediamaintenance]

[Video transcript begin.]

[Humming, as someone walks through the mall, the camera is set in the person's front shirt pocket, they bring their hands up and toss a wrench between them, the person fumbles it as they do it a second time, and they let out a sigh, no longer humming. The person reaches down to grab the wrench.] 

?: God damn hands, never do what I want ‘em to.

[Voice identified: The Mechanic.]

[He grabs the wrench again, and continues walking. The lights in the mall become slightly dimmer as he progresses. He passes two other employees, waving almost robotically to them, his movements stiff instead of fluid.]

[After a few minutes, he approaches what appears to be a corpse. Instead of stopping at staring, he just makes a noise of slight disgust, and steps on top of it, continuing his walk.]

Me: Where the hell are the damn janitors? Gross.

[He enters a more secluded area, the lights growing even more dim, he slows slightly.]

[A faint humming is heard, the song is identified as “Ruler of everything.” the person humming skips into frame, wearing a white shirt a black suit jacket, jeans and a Showfall mask. Black hair covers the top of the mask.]

Me: … Hello? Can I help you?

?: [Overly cheerful.] YES YOU CAN! Just the mechanic I was looking for, see there's the busted pipe that's leaking nasty nasty gas into my editing room.

[Voice identified: Mari?]

Me: Shit, really? That’s probably not very good for productivity. Thanks for lettin’ me know. I’ll get right on that. Not really my job, but I should be able to help ya.

[The Mechanic takes a step in the other direction, before pausing, and turning painfully slowly back to Mari(?), staring them down.]

Me: [Long pause.] … Where is that, again?

M(?): Just follow me! I'll lead you to it!

Me: Oh, thanks!

[He walks over to Mari(?).]

M(?): Y'know, it's been tough ever since that one Editor escaped. The one with the brown hair, one eye about as dark as my hair.

[Mari(?) points directly to their hair.]

[The Mechanic laughs, but it sounds forced, his tone and pitch of voice never changing.]

Me: I forgot about that, honestly. A real shame. They were so good at– wait.

M(?): What?

Me: … How do you know their eye color? 

M(?): Asked the Archivist for her file, figured it would be nice to know how to be better than her!

Me: I guess that makes sense. So… uh. How long has this pipe been doing that? 

M(?): About two and a half days, I've been trying to find the best Mechanic to fix it.

Me: Oh, uh. Hm. Alright, yeah. I’ll have it dealt with in a jiffy.

M(?): So uh, do you have a name or nickname other than Mechanic? I have nicknames to differentiate all the editors.

[A series of joints cracking as The Mechanic quickly turns his head to Mari(?).]

Me: No.

M(?): Then what should I call you? I call everyone in your department ‘Mechanic.’ It gets confusing!

Me: Then just call me Mechanic. Simple. If it’s confusing, then that’s on you.

M(?): How about Fred? You look like a fred to me. 

Me: Would you shut u– sorry. No. Just Mechanic.

M(?): Why? Why be so confusing, can I at least have your number.

Me: It’s not confusing. And sure, fine. 12. 

M(?): Then I'll just call you twelve. Better than the same thing I call every other mechanic.

Me: JUST CALL ME MECHANIC. IT’S NOT HARD. 

M(?): Nuh uh.

[Mari begins humming the song again.]

Me: I am so close to whacking you over the head with a fucking tool box. Just show me where this fucking pipe or whatever is so I can continue with my other responsibilities!

M(?): If you did that my mask might break, then you'd be in big trouble!

Me: [A deep breath.] God. Fine. I don’t even understand why you wanted me to fix that pipe, I don’t even know if that’s part of my job! But we’re already on our way over, so I might as fucking well. 

M(?): And I appreciate it!

[The two turn a corner, the surroundings the same as they were when the two started their journey, indicating the lack of progress.]

Me: What the…

M(?): Hm?

Me: Oh, you fucker. I know what this is.

M(?): Huh? The fuck you talking about?

Me: We just went in a circle. You’ve been lying to me this whole damn time, haven’t you?

[Mari(?) stops, stretching out their shoulders clearly thinking.]

M(?): [Their normal tone.] Ohhhhhhhhhh. Right. When you lead people somewhere, there's supposed to be an actual location huh?

[Voice reidentified: Mari.]

Me: Yeah! There is! 

M: Welp… Fuck.

[Mari removes the mask, showing their heavily damaged face. Before The Mechanic can respond Mari punches him in the face, he reels backwards and falls to the floor with a shout.]

M: You were supposed to spin. God damnit guess I have to do this the old fashioned way.

Me: YOU MOTHERFUCKER! 

M: Sorry this might hurt worse.

[Mari turns The Mechanic around, spinning the camera in the process before seemingly putting him in a choke hold.]

Me: [Slightly strangled, and continues to be so for the rest of the recording.] Let me go, you prick!

M: NOT HAPPENING EDGAR! IF I HAVE TO HEAR YOUR DAUGHTER MENTION YOU ONE MORE TIME I MIGHT LOSE IT!

Me: I don’t– have– a fucking daughter! AND THAT’S NOT MY NAME!

M: YES YOU DO! AND IT IS! YOU JUST DON'T REMEMBER RIGHT NOW BECAUSE OF THE STUPID FUCKING MASK.

Me: Fuck you!

M: NO THANK YOU! I'M TAKING THIS DAMN THING OFF YOU… As soon as I drag you back to the hideout!

Me: I’ll turn you in to the Manager! You can’t just fucking do this! 

M: DO NOT MAKE ME KICK YOU IN THE BALLS.

Me: Your threats mean nothing to me, bitch.

M: Ok how about this.

[Mari seemingly gets extremely close to hitting The Mechanic in the crotch, only to stop and laugh. He doesn’t even flinch.]

Me: What are you hoping to accomplish, Editor? You know this will all just end in disaster for anyone you care about. Why try?

M: Because, I know behind that stupid fucking mask. Is my friend.

[Mari begins finally dragging The Mechanic away.]

Me: You’re a fucking idiot. I could alert anyone to the location of your stupid ‘hideout’ as soon as we get there, then it’d be game over. You’re seriously risking it all over some stupid hope that I’m someone you know?

M: Well if you do that I'll just rip the mask off, also you'd have to look behind you to see the location and I'm currently in control of your neck. You move an inch. I'll snap it like a slim jim.

Me: Mhm. Right. I know you’re not going to do that, because it’s always the same with you fucking rebels, you just can’t bring yourself to do it! Pathetic. 

M: I shot my own girlfriend point blank in the fucking face. Try again idiot.

[The Mechanic laughs, it lasts for just a little too long.]

Me: Then do it. Snap my neck. Right now.

M: Nope. Not without reason, Showfall isn't winning today you bitch.

Me: You can’t hide forever, Editor. One day soon, you’ll be found. And your corpse will be thrown out like the trash that you are. This is all in vain and you fucking know it.

M: I don't have to hide forever. I'm going to get out, and I'm bringing you with me. You might not be Edgar, but I know he's there somewhere.

Me: You’re even more of a fool than I’d first thought. You’re going to get yourself gutted by security, and when that happens, I’ll be fucking laughing.

M: Like when you got your head bitten off? In the tunnels?

Me: Don’t you fucking dare.

M: Don't be an asshole.

[Mari mumbles something not picked up by the camera.]

Me: I can’t wait to see your ribs get crushed like a soda can. I hope you die, and I hope it hurts.

M: That already happened in high school dude, my ribs still hurt sometimes.

Me: Good.

M: Y'know, let's sing a song. Like a field trip.

[Mari begins singing the song she was humming before, still dragging The Mechanic.]

Me: SHUT THE FUCK UP.

M: Nope! Imma keep singing until I get my friend back.

[Mari returns to singing the song, seemingly enjoying it.]

Me: Are you having fun? Is this seriously entertaining for you?

M: Getting to piss off a Showfall employee? After everything they've done to me? Oh hell yeah, the most entertaining thing this company has done.

Me: I never should’ve offered to help you.

M: Well, what if I wasn't lying? Then a bunch of employees would die.

Me: Would’ve been worth it if it meant I’d never have to see you again.

M: Gotta come up with better material bro, I've heard better from like… High-school bullies.

Me: As soon as you loosen your grip I’m knocking your fucking teeth in. 

M: Well now I'm just not doing that.

Me: You’re going to have to eventually. 

M: Nope! I can get the mask off even with one hand around your throat.

[Instead of responding, The Mechanic just attempts to kick Mari.]

M: Please stop, that won't work.

Me: Yeah, no. Fuck you. Die.

M: Dude, that’s not going to do anything.

Me: You can’t stop me.

M: I can, it's called I tighten the choke.

Me: You wouldn’t dare–

[Mari tightens the chokehold, cutting The Mechanic off abruptly. Some twitching can be seen as the camera moves slightly.]

M: Tap the fuck out.

Me: [Extremely strangled.] Never.

M: Do. It.

Me: [Still extremely strangled.] No.

M: Then die.

[Mari seemingly slightly lets go, just enough for The Mechanic to breathe.]

Me: Coward.

M: You squeezed my arm.

Me: No, I didn’t. The fuck are you talking about.

M: Just now you squeezed my arm, tell me. Does the name Rose mean anything to you?

Me: No, it means jack shit. 

M: You're lying. I was masked once too y'know?

Me: I’m not lying. That name means nothing to me.

M: It has to. Because somewhere behind that mask. Edgar is still there.

Me: You’re hopeless. 

M: Na, I have plenty of hope.

Me: Not what I meant.

M: Don't care, didn’t ask.

Me: This little game you’re playing where you pretend that I’m your friend is getting old, Editor. 

M: My name is Mari.

Me: Wrong.

M: Nope, tell me. What happens when I take your mask off?

Me: Now, why would I tell you that?

M: I already know dipfuck, I just want to hear it come out of your mouth.

Me: Well, you won’t. 

M: You won't be this anymore. I take the mask off, and I win.

Me: Small victories are nothing in comparison to what Showfall has over people like you, Editor. 

M: And what would that be? Trauma? Meh, I already go to therapy.

Me: They have the power to snatch all of this away in an instant. You know this, everyone knows this. All it takes is one little push, and everything fucking collapses before your eyes.

M: That's why I'm leaving, with everyone.

Me: You can think you’re leaving, but then you take a glance at someone’s upper left arm, or their shoulder, or their thigh. You can never leave. 

M: Laser tattoo removal.

Me: Even then, it remains. Maybe you won’t be able to see it, but you can’t escape it. 

M: Yes you can, it's called moving on. Leaving the memory of this place to burn.

Me: If you want to think that, feel free. But don’t say I didn’t fucking warn you.

M: Times up bitch. HEY ROSE GOT YOUR DAD!

Me: For the last time, I’m NOT A GOD DAMN FATHER.

[TRANSCRIPT OVERLAP DETECTED: AUTOMATICALLY ENDING TRANSCRIPT.]

[ertrunkenerwassergeist]

Do you have anything written for To Live is to Die Twice that you are willing to share?

I just looked through my folder and found something. More than I expected, actually. XD (It's not edited at all though, so beware the mistakes)

Here you go

Mors drifted through the In Between, guided by the gentle prodding of a presence just beyond his understanding, until it suddenly stopped and sensations came rushing back all at once. The experience was so jarring he forgot he was supposed to breathe. His lungs felt like iron bands were clamped around them, burning hot and ice cold at the same time.

He could hear something. It was warbled, like someone trying to talk underwater and his ears were full of cotton. Something crashed into his chest and if he had had any breath left, he would have gasped. A spark ran through him. It was some kind of magic, but it was gone too quickly for him to say what kind of magic it had been. It could have been a lightning spell trying to fry him from the inside out for all he knew.

Suddenly he could breathe.

Greedily he sucked in gulps of air and blinked blearily against the golden half-light. Was this how souls arrived in the Ring of the Lucii? If so, it sucked balls.

An unbidden groan made its way past his lips. Somebody was talking again in hushed tones and gentle words, but his brain was too scrambled to make out what was being said. Fingers carded through his hair. This was embarrassing. Showing weakness like that in front of his ancestors and needing to be molly coddled like that.

Mors forced his eyes open – it took more effort than he thought it would – with the intention to make the person stop whatever they were doing and came up short as he stared up at a cracked ceiling. It must have been beautiful once, a distant part of his brain – the part that had always had an interest in architecture his own father had never truly allowed him to pursue, not that it had stopped him, of course – voiced as his eyes trailed the crumbling stucco and the bits of plastering that still held traces of colour.

This wasn't the Ring of the Lucii.

Where by Bahamut's bladed wings was he?

The fingers carded through his hair again and he flinched back. As it turned out, whipping his head around was a bad idea. Black spots crowded his vision and nausea made his stomach lurch rather unpleasantly. Mors was sure he would have vomited all over the scratchy bedsheets, if his stomach hadn't been empty already.

He forced himself to take a few deep breaths until he didn't feel like his whole world was spinning around him in a dizzying array of shadows and soft light anymore. The frame of the bed creaked ominously as he shifted his weight to gain a better look at the person, whose fingers should fucking stop already.

It was a young man who looked like he had barely hit twenty – if that – with an unruly mop of long, black hair that currently obscured half his face, and striking violet eyes. There were thin lines tattooed around his eyes and along the cheek and temple of the left side of his face. Mors suppressed a derisive snort. If Regis had dared to do something like this he would have beaten him black and blue for disrespecting his family line like that.

The stroking of his hair finally stopped as the young man seemed to get the hint that his touch wasn't welcome. Mors couldn't help the unbidden sense of loss-emptiness that washed through him and squashed it down mercilessly.

A soft sigh rushed past the young man's lips and they twisted into a slight smile as Mors's eyes focused on him.

“Finally with me again? You had all of us worried.”

With a furrowed brow Mors inched further away along the bed until his back hit the wall. Only now that he could feel the old stone at his back, did he realize how cold the air hitting his face was. He shivered in the warm cocoon of the blankets he was wrapped in, and scowled at his own reaction. He was a King of Lucis, and not some pampered noble that wouldn't know the sharp edge of a blade, even if it hit him in the face. But here he was, barely able to move, limbs heavy and without the strength to summon a weapon.

Then it registered what the young man had said. What did he mean 'again'? Wait, no. That wasn't as important as: “What do you mean 'us'? Who are you?”

He snapped the words out with all the air of a man who knew his questions would be answered – or else. His mouth clicked shut sharply as he heard the sound of his own voice. This wasn't how he was supposed to sound. He hadn't sounded like that since -

Before his mind could slip into the dark hole that was his death and what by Pitioss is wrong with me, there is something wrong, wrong, wrong, an amused huff made his attention snap back to the man sitting on a stool next to the rickety old bed.

“Such insolence. It must really run in the family.”

…What?

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

The man blinked like he had just realized something. He leaned slightly back and carded his hair out of his face – it was long enough to fall between his shoulder blades – and Mors's breath shuttered in his chest. That face. This unknown man looked so much like Regis, and by extension, him, it hurt.

Oh Gods, Regis. How was he doing? Had he grieved at all? Mors had always done his best to protect his family, even if he knew that Regis thought different. He had seen it in the growing distance his son kept, the polite, empty words they exchanged, the looks Regis and Clarus had exchanged when they thought themselves unwatched.

[fairyofspringdays]

Moonprince Ficrecs

A Little Comfort - ootp, sickfic, hurt/comfort, locked in together, there was NO bed

Remus Lupin is trapped in the basement of 12 Grimmauld Place with Severus Snape. Unbeknownst to him, Severus has a migraine.

Sleepless in Scotland - coworkers, post-war, severus babysitting teddy

Remus requires a babysitter during the full moon and his only option is one particularly prickly Potions Master. But will Teddy’s undeniable cuteness bring the two professors together, or only serve to drive them apart?

Bundle of my Heart - marauders era, potions class, fluff and humor

In which Severus is stuck with potions disaster extraordinaire Remus Lupin for a lab partner.

Fear of Rejection - ootp, soulmates au, getting together, angst with a happy ending

Every wizard, witch and sometimes muggle has a soulmark. A special, highly personal, mark shared with one other person. It was common to have met your soulmate, whether you knew this or not, before reaching adulthood.

Remus knew who it was, figured it out when he was fifteen, but had always kept it a secret. Because he knew for certain that his best friends would riot. He knew for certain that the other Gryffindors would all but disown him. He knew for certain that his soulmate hated him. Even though Remus never had. His soulmate was a fascinating person. Clever, ambitious, curious, handsome in maybe a bit unconventional way. But none of that mattered.

After all, his soulmate was Severus Snape.

it's more the being unknown - ootp to post-war, enemies to friends to lovers (!!!!!), developing relationships

“The Smiths?” he asks, almost out of his own volition. He immediately wants to take the words back—he certainly does not need to be making small talk with Remus Lupin. But Lupin just blinks, surprised, looks down at his shirt and laughs.

“I didn’t think you would know them."

“I was alive in the eighties,” Severus tells him, almost in disbelief. “It would be harder for me not to.”

“No, of course. It’s just… I had to explain to Sirius who Queen were. I forget, sometimes. That you’re…” He trails off. For the best, Severus thinks bitterly.

“I would expect nothing else from Black,” he sneers. The cigarette has burned to the butt—he takes one final drag, fingers stinging.

“Don’t split your head open on the dungeon stairs,” Lupin says. “You’ll undo all my hard work.”

It startles an honest-to-God laugh from Severus—he clamps his mouth shut, mortified, but Lupin just grins, surprised and pleased.

“I will endeavor not to,” he tells Lupin, clipped, and stalks out of the room as fast as he can.

Later, when he’s made it to his bed without cracking his skull onto any stone, he realizes he forgot the cigarettes on the table.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and falls asleep.

note: AAAAAAAAAAA THIS IS ADORABLE PLSPLSPLS READ

The secret language of plants - post first war to post canon war

Just… tell me. Tell me what is going on, Snape.”

What was going on was that Severus Snape had no trouble tracking down one Petunia Evans, now Dursley, to a little town in Surrey where he saw how exactly she was treating her nephew. Which somehow led to last night and Severus knocking on Lupin’s door with a toddler half-asleep in his arms.

note: very, very long. plot does not revolve around moonprince after first edition. pretty angsty and funny and fluffy and so damn many feelings and plot changes and just an all-round amazing fic but. not revolving around moonprince. moonprince endgame tho (+ drarry)

Fuel the Pyre of Your Enemies - marauders era, enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, secret friendship + relationship, character development

A paired class assignment for Astronomy incites a mutually beneficial agreement between Remus Lupin and Severus Snape. An exploration of sexuality and friendships

note: pretty long but SO worth it

Yes you should very much get into snupin ♥️

anyone have any fic recs ?

[navybrat817]

Partners in Crime

Pairing: Mob!Nick Fowler x Female Reader Summary: A night out with one of your father's most trusted associates puts you on a new and dangerous path. Word Count: Over 1.9k Warnings: Implied e/xplicit s/exual content, d/runk s/ex (con-sensual), d/rinking, talk of v/iolence, p/ossessive behavior, possible soft!dark vibes if you squint, engagement, not-so-great dad, Nick Fowler (he's a warning, okay?). Graphic talent and thanks: Banner - @sgt-seabass, Divider - @firefly-graphics , Nick edit - Nix, Moodboard - yours truly A/N: Welcome to my Wicked Arrangements AU! For @the-slumberparty 's April Writing Challenge (prompt in bold italics) and we'll see a few other characters down the road. ❤️ Beta read by the wonderful @whisperlullaby and pre-read by @slyyywriting ​, but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The first thought that entered your mind when you woke up was that you were never drinking whiskey again. You couldn't even remember how much you had, but you weren’t going to bounce back immediately from this hangover. You tried to avoid getting drunk whenever you could. At least it wasn't at your dad's party.

Not that you stuck around for most of it anyway.

Nick Fowler, one of the most powerful men in the city and your dad's most trusted associate, was waiting by your car when you left.

"Why don't we have a real party?

A man as ruthless and dangerous as he is beautiful, there was a reason why so many wanted him on their side. He wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty or the kind of man to cross. Though he didn't say much to you with your dad around, it didn't stop him from eye fucking you every chance he had.

It was only natural that you wanted him.

"Sure. I could use a distraction."

"Oh, sweetheart, I'll give you much more than that."

With a groan, you cracked one eye open and then the other. The pounding headache made it difficult to see as you tried to blink away the spots in your vision. If you had to choose an equivalent to what your throat felt like, sandpaper would be the closest. At least you didn't get sick. The bed you laid in was also comfortable and the sheets kept your naked body warm enough.

You forgot about the pain in your head as the ache between your legs grabbed your attention.

Oh, yeah. That happened.

Closing your eyes, a blurred vision of tangled limbs surfaced, the blue eyes of Nick piercing through the fog.

“Knew you’d take my cock like a good girl.”

And you did over and over.

Doing your best not to move too fast, you carefully turned your head and opened your eyes again. You expected to see him sleeping beside you, but he wasn’t there. Gently touching the spot, you noticed it still had a bit of warmth. Maybe he went to the bathroom or decided to get breakfast.

It took a moment to register that something sparkled on your left hand as sunlight peeked in through the curtain. “What the hell?” you mumbled as you stared at the diamond ring on the fourth digit.

A ring that looked suspiciously like an engagement ring.

No, no, no, we did not.

“Morning, sweetheart,” a familiar voice gently pierced the air as you kept staring at your finger. "Surprised to see you awake. How are you feeling?"

You tore your gaze away to look at Nick, who had an all too smug look on his eyes.

"I don't know yet," you said honestly, clearing the scratch from your throat.

Nick hummed as he walked across the room in just his underwear. A hint of a smirk formed on his handsome face as you admired him. The black suits he normally wore hid how broad his shoulders and chest were. They also hid most of his tattoos, which you vaguely recall tracing a few with your fingers and tongue. Your gaze trailed down his chiseled abs to the front of his boxers, the throbbing ache between your thighs intensifying.

No. Focus.

"You did say too much whiskey would give you a headache," he said, handing you some aspirin and water.

You quickly took the pills with a generous gulp, the cold liquid soothing the slight burn in your throat. "Did we…?" you trailed off.

"Did we what?" he asked, running a hand through his short hair. You were pretty sure you tried to pull it while you rode him. "We did a lot of things last night, so you'll need to be more specific."

Your cheeks flamed as you held up your hand, proud when it didn't shake. "This."

He slowly ducked down and you couldn't stop the hitch in your breath as his lips touched your forehead. "Get married? No," he said, pressing a soft kiss against your skin.

You could breathe a bit easier. While your dad wouldn't lay a hand on you if you married without his permission, he could and would wreck the life you tried to have beyond the bubble he put you in. Piece by piece.

"But you also said I couldn't have you unless I put a ring on your finger, so I did."

"I was kidding!" you said. No way he actually believed that.

"I took it seriously," he murmured, moving his mouth to your ear. "And it's a perfect fit. Just like my cock inside you."

"Oh, my god," you whispered.

"You said that, too," he whispered, dragging his lips down the column of your neck. The scruff on his chin left a delicious burn in its path. "I reminded you to say my name instead."

The gravel of his voice sent a shiver down your spine before you moved to the other side of the bed and out of his reach. "I need a minute," you said, feeling his eyes on you as you stood up.

"I'll be waiting."

You didn't bother to cover yourself up as you went to the bathroom, your head not spinning as much as you expected it to. Nick saw everything last night and into the early morning, so you had no shame if you watched your hips sway. Splashing some water on your face, you had no idea where to go from here. While Nick was fun and a wonderful distraction, you couldn't help but wonder if last night was a calculated move.

It wasn't a secret that your dad wanted a son to take over his empire one day. He got you instead. He should have been a good father who loved and cared for you, but he treated you as an investment. You had a good education after you chose a college from the options he provided you. The same with your job as he limited the places you could apply to.

While he didn't keep you in a cage, he certainly kept you on a leash.

Maybe if mom was still around, things would be different.

You would only take over his businesses with a man of his choice by your side. He usually only had you around his inner circle of men long enough for them to flirt and leer at you. You were certain he was prepping you for the highest bidder.

Are you that bidder, Nick?

"Why were you waiting for me last night?" you asked once you went back into the bedroom where Nick was now on the bed. "Did my dad ask you to?"

"I was waiting for you because I wanted you. I thought that was obvious," he answered, unashamedly looking you over as you joined him. He reached for you, his fingers surprisingly gentle as he touched your cheek. "And I got tired of waiting."

Nick Fowler got whatever he wanted.

"But did he ask you to?" you repeated, showing him your hand again. "And how the hell did you just happen to have a ring on you my size?"

"Your dad had nothing to do with it. I've had that ring on me and my eye on you for some time," he said, kissing your hand and drawing a gasp from you as he put you on your back. "In case you forgot, I slipped it on after you drank the rest of my Jack Daniels and gave me a lap dance in my private booth. You didn't complain."

You recalled grinding to the beat as Nick sat back and watched. He looked like a modern king on a throne as the lights pulsed around him. No one would have bat an eye if he fucked you in his VIP section.

Which he did.

"We're not actually engaged, Nick. I said I was kidding about putting a ring on my finger."

His eyes darkened as he stretched over you, his muscles rippling before his weight settled. "You said you'd be mine."

Your heart raced, but it wasn't out of fear. "You don't even know me. Not really," you said, thankful that tears didn't fill your eyes.

How could he when no one was able to get close to you?

His knuckles caressed your cheek and you tried not to lean into his touch. "Told you I've had my eye on you for some time, dulceata. I know you better than you think."

You wanted to believe he did, but could you trust a man who worked with your dad? Did he want you simply to gain access to more resources? Gain more power?

"You're manipulative."

"I prefer calculating and there isn't anything wrong with that," he said before his lips touched yours.

His kiss brought back a reminder of the pleasure he gave you, your body humming with the promise of more. The man had layers to him, but something inside you said he wouldn't hurt you. He may be more inclined to hurt anyone who hurt you.

Maybe.

"I guess you have to be in your line of work," you said, a bitter laugh escaping. It was better than crying. "But if you're serious about whatever this is, do you really think my dad will let us be together? Well, he might if he thinks he can get something from you. He does value you. Pretty sure he even likes you more than he likes me."

It didn't hurt to say that as much as you thought it would.

"I don't give a fuck what your dad thinks," he said, his handsome face gazing down at yours. "I know he thinks he can control your life, but he's in for a rude awakening. And I can promise you I would never be that kind of father to our daughter."

"Please, don't talk about us having kids," you begged. You still had too much of a headache for that, but your womb clenched of its own accord.

"Why not?" he smirked. "You're going to be my wife."

I'm not even going to argue for the time being.

"Well, I need to rest, future husband," you said before he suddenly slid down your body and parted your legs. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Just looking at the pretty pussy I ruined," he said, tracing a finger along your slit. Your body quickly responded to his touch and you weren't ashamed of the small moan you let out. "Which belongs to me now. If it wasn’t meant to be, you wouldn’t fit me so perfectly.”

"Is that right?" you asked, clenching around nothing.

Should I beg him to fuck me or play a little hard to get?

"You know it does. And if you want to go back to sleep, go right ahead. I'll fuck you until you're stuffed with me and wake you with my tongue," he said, making your back bow as his warm breath skimmed your folds. "You'll be begging me to fuck you all over again."

Your body went pliant against the sheets. "Nick?" you breathed out. "How do I know I can trust you?" You questioned before you would allow him to distract you.

"I guess I'll have to prove my loyalty to you," he replied, his eyes dark and calculating as he looked up at you. "I'll start by killing your father".

Surely Nick doesn't mean that. Right? Hehe. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Nick Fowler Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[rafesgoldrings]

would love to see what exactly occurred when rafe slapped our ass black and blue for bitching too much 🤭 and whether he got any of the other kooks involved or he took this on as his responsibility…

(edit: adding a little more to this because I thought of more🫶🏻)

You were pissed, fully prepared to brat to your hearts content when Rafe, Topper, and Kelce came over. They hadn’t paid you nearly enough attention lately, hadn’t bought you any new gifts, too fucking busy golfing and partying to pay attention to you. You’d complained to each of them individually, and then to all of them at once in the group chat. Telling them that you were bored, that they weren’t answering fast enough, that they needed to answer you now or buy you something to make up for it. It’s all they heard for the last few days and they were getting fed up, part of it was their fault, they spoiled you too much, but you were bitching just a little too much for their liking. All of you were supposed to hang out at your place that weekend, ready to make it up to you then. So when they walked into your living room, they expected their usual greeting, a kiss to their lips and a hello, but when they walked in? You’d walked over and slapped Rafe in the face, hard, and walked back to your couch. Sitting with a loud huff, arms crossed and brows furrowed. Rafe touched his face, tracing the hot splotch your hand left, jaw clenched and tongue sucking his teeth. You knew you fucked up, you knew it was soon as your hand made contact, but it was already done. He’d stormed over to you, hand harshly gripping your upper arm and bending you over the arm of the couch. He ripped off the tiny skirt you had on, smirking when he saw you had no panties on and telling the boys to watch him , and slapped your ass. “Ow, that fucking hurts you dick. First you abandon me, no gifts or anything, and now you’re hurting me.” you whined, a harsher slap landed on your ass followed by a firm ‘shut the fuck up’. Then you’d heard that sound, the sound you both dreaded and desired, his belt buckle being undone. It wasn’t but a few seconds later the rather made contact with your right ass cheek, a loud crack filling the room and echoing off the walls as the welt began to show. He moved on to the left one, the same cracking noise filling the room as you tried to squirm away. He’d brought your hands behind your back and held them there, moving his legs to tangle with yours and hold you in place as he kept up with his relentless attack. You could feel your cunt dripping, the sticky arousal coating your inner thighs, leaking more and more with each whip of the belt. The boys watched in pure satisfaction, knowing if you couldn’t handle it you’d let them know, eyes moving to the glistening on your thighs and dripping hole. Your ass was on fire, sore and hot to the touch, but Rafe kept going. Tears cascaded down your face like a crystal river, small drops falling onto the couch. “3 more. Count them and fucking thank me you fucking brat”

He’d brought the belt down again “O-one. Thank y-you Rafe”

Again “Tw-o. T-thank you Rafe”

Again, but this time you forgot to answer, head too empty to remember.

“I said,” the hand not holding the belt letting go of your hands and moving to wrap around your throat to squeeze it, loving the way you gasped for air “Fucking count. You’re not that much of a dumb slut to do that right? You’re so smart yeah, our smart girl? So try that again” he’d coo, releasing your throat as you coughed and caught your breath.

One final crack of the harsh leather against your ass “Thr-ee. Thank you R-Rafe”

“Good girl baby, all done now okay? Did so so good for me sweet girl” his voice soft and gentle, his hands caressing the bruised and broken skin. He’d cleaned you up, having the others grab some ointment to rub on the broken areas of skin, before the three of them admired Rafe’s handy work, splotches of red, purple, black, and blue covering your ass. He let go of your body, moving to sit on the couch, before pulling you into his lap and smirking at the hiss you let out. Ass sore and sensitive.

“Let this serve as a reminder not to ever fucking do that shit again. Not to me, not to Kelce, not to Topper. If something is bothering you, you talk to us and tell us how to fix it like the big girl you are princess” you’d nodded your head, curling into Rafe’s chest as the other two began rolling a joint.

Safe to say, you never dared brat that way again. Especially not towards Rafe, it took several weeks for the bruises to go away and for you to be able to sit properly.

Tag List: @sweetestdesire @congratsloserr @xyzstar @madelynie

[sn4pozu]

my headcanons of Eddie Gluskin if he had a twitter :

he'd repost those RETVRN incel trad memes where its like a woman doing house chores & man doing job stuff

would get into arguments with a woman and subscribe to her onlyfans at the same time (gets mad when blocked)

tries to be professional and a know-it-all but also his entire likes tab is porn (he doesnt know it shows publicly)

calls someone a whore & drops a bible verse in the same thread arguing with them

idk if he'd be delighted with minion memes or viscerally hate them

USES DISNEY REACTION GIFS WITH NO SHAME , USES A CRYING STITCH GIF AT A DODO VIDEO OF A DOG DYING

If twitter bans his account mid argument he'd flip the fuck out and make 3 gmails & alts at the same hour

100% posts creepy comments under peoples post and gets upset if it gets hidden

flirts so much you'd think hes a bot but no he's just sending random women his number (does he care if they're married or not is completely dependant on his mood)

uses the nice guy card whenever shit starts going south

he gets doxxed he goes like "that's not me" (lies, is scared)

either that or he lashes out and start sending them death threats who knows

menace with the twitter Voice Note feature

not even a mutual KYS no hes going to write out his whole murder fantasy in a person's DMs and blocks them before they could respond

gets IP banned on twitter like, weekly, he just figures out VPN apps and finds a way to harrass people constantly

media tab is his breakfast and someones mutilated genitals, bi-weekly photo updates maybe

im not saying he would complain about hairloss but he would complain about hairloss

"i got declined by the pharmacist for asthma medication, fucking bitch *insert something mysogonistic*"

thinks bitcoin is stupid and not a real "manly job" so he dogs on them pretty horribly

thinks tech jobs are for NERDS and says it outloud whenever them NFT bros are commenting under his shit attacking him for calling them nerds

Cracked phone screen with blood in the cracks (he tried to clean it with soapy water on a towel but it just ruined the lcd now its forever stained yellow) ((free bluescreen eye protector mode ?)) (((also has to violently tap the home button because its already broken & that part of the screen died))) ((((has an odd smell))))

he wishes he'd have glasses for the phone screen but all he does is squint

would post dress updates though <3 maybe retweets sewing patterns and videos of old women knitting and go "my grandmother used to do that pattern, ❤️ Wow."

goes back to shitting on women

*posts black coffee with 2 fruitflies in it* "A Good Way To Start A Morning ☕"

posts half eaten food and the dirty plate and would be like "Delicious food today 😋 i almost forgot to pots." -- deletes & reposts because of the typo. PEOPLE CANNOT THINK HE'S WEAK.

His vest would 100% be posted on those gimmick accounts and gets picked on for it being crusty & grody 😔

DMs like multiple women at the same time and either gets immediately blocked or ghosted after a face reveal

he Has cried because of twitter comments before, never again......

has twitter warning threads made of him and has tried to draw a stupid fucking wojack on paper with pencil & pen because he doesnt know how to edit photos but he still wants to own the haters

posts gore to own the haters as well and then got mass reported to death when people found 0 similar images of the gore he posted

'A Thread On @/Eddie287367927 TW: Gore, Mutilation, Harassment, Transphobia, Misogyny'

probably had a youtube documentary made about his twitter acc and all the drama he got himself into (either by accident or for fun)

ok this idea kinda came up to me after i saw a trad meme come up on my tl and i just HAD to dump this all out somewhere

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ASOS: Jaime VII (Chapter 62)

The king is dead, they told him, never knowing that Joffrey was his son as well as his sovereign.

"The Imp opened his throat with a dagger," a costermonger declared at the roadside inn where they spent the night.

Okay, @agentrouka-blog has already brought attention to this, but I have to spotlight it again because it's wild.

Roose and Jaime leave Harrenhal the same day (Jaime tracks back, but it's quick). Before Jaime arrives in King's Landing, the following occurs:

Roose and his gigantic ass army cross a river, and make it to the Twins in horrendous weather (Robb is further delayed)

Red Wedding + aftermath

The lead-up + Purple Wedding

What the fuck George? Lol

+.+.+

"The dwarf's wife did the murder with him," swore an archer in Lord Rowan's livery. "Afterward, she vanished from the hall in a puff of brimstone, and a ghostly direwolf was seen prowling the Red Keep, blood dripping from his jaws."

It wasn't a female direwolf? It was a ghostly male direwolf? Mmkay.

+.+.+

He was curiously calm. Men were supposed to go mad with grief when their children died, he knew. They were supposed to tear their hair out by the roots, to curse the gods and swear red vengeance. So why was it that he felt so little? The boy lived and died believing Robert Baratheon his sire.

Jaime had seen him born, that was true, though more for Cersei than the child. But he had never held him. "How would it look?" his sister warned him when the women finally left them. "Bad enough Joff looks like you without you mooning over him." Jaime yielded with hardly a fight. The boy had been a squalling pink thing who demanded too much of Cersei's time, Cersei's love, and Cersei's breasts. Robert was welcome to him.

And now he's dead. He pictured Joff lying still and cold with a face black from poison, and still felt nothing. Perhaps he was the monster they claimed. If the Father Above came down to offer him back his son or his hand, Jaime knew which he would choose.

Uh, yikes at all of this? I'm not sure what to say. Take away pushing a kid out of a tower, and we still have a few issues left.

+.+.+

He had a second son, after all, and seed enough for many more. If Cersei wants another child I'll give her one . . . and this time I'll hold him, and the Others take those who do not like it.

Hmmm.

I'll just say it. My unpopular ASoIaF opinion (or maybe not, who knows) is that the show didn't invent that pregnancy storyline. It came from George.

To break her fast the queen sent to the kitchens for two boiled eggs, a loaf of bread, and a pot of honey. But when she cracked the first egg and found a bloody half-formed chick inside, her stomach roiled. - Cersei III, AFFC

Yeah.

An immense round fat man, as big as three Moon Boys, he came cartwheeling into the hall, vaulted onto the table, and laid a gigantic egg right in front of Sansa. "Break it, my lady," he commanded. When she did, a dozen yellow chicks escaped and began running in all directions. - Sansa I, ASOS

Uh huh.

"He told me the moon was an egg, Khaleesi," the Lysene girl said. "Once there were two moons in the sky, but one wandered too close to the sun and cracked from the heat. A thousand dragons poured forth, and drank the fire of the sun. - Daenerys III, AGOT

Sure thing.

I already understand the glaring issue with this theory. It's possible 4-6 months have passed since this chapter, and Cersei still isn't aware she's pregnant. Not to mention she's been naked in front of a lot of people. I don't have an answer for that.

My only explanation is that the author is kind of a dummy when it comes to women, and the reproductive system.

I accept most of you disagree with this. That's okay, fam. It's all love.

Edit: I forgot this chapter happens when he was planning a 5 year gap. I still fully believe she'll be pregnant in the future, but this was never meant to be the moment.

+.+.+

"There was no one in the tent but you and Lady Stark. Do you claim that old woman could cut through hardened steel?"

"There was a shadow. I know how mad it sounds, but . . . I was helping Renly into his armor, and the candles blew out and there was blood everywhere. It was Stannis, Lady Catelyn said. His . . . his shadow. I had no part in it, on my honor . . ." "You have no honor. Draw your sword. I won't have it said that I slew you while your hand was empty."

Old woman? Shut up, Loras.

How much do I love that there's a monarch who has been assassinated by a shadow, and nobody can figure out what happened?

Quiet as a shadow, she told herself. She wondered where she was. When they had first come to King's Landing, she used to have bad dreams about getting lost in the castle. Father said the Red Keep was smaller than Winterfell, but in her dreams it had been immense, an endless stone maze with walls that seemed to shift and change behind her. - Arya III, AGOT

+.+.+

Jaime grabbed the boy with his good hand and yanked him around. "I am the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, you arrogant pup. Your commander, so long as you wear that white cloak. Now sheathe your bloody sword, or I'll take it from you and shove it up some place even Renly never found."

It's amusing anyone had to ask the author for clarification on the whole Loras x Renly thing.

+.+.+

Why must they misunderstand every bloody thing he did? Aerys. It all grows from Aerys.

She sure does.

+.+.+

Another knight in white armor was guarding the doors of the royal sept; a tall man with a black beard, broad shoulders, and a hooked nose. When he saw Jaime he gave a sour smile and said, "And where do you think you're going?"

"Into the sept." Jaime lifted his stump to point. "That one right there. I mean to see the queen."

"Her Grace is in mourning. And why would she be wanting to see the likes of you?"

Because I'm her lover, and the father of her murdered son, he wanted to say. "Who in seven hells are you?"

Lol, that makes two of you.

+.+.+

Cersei was kneeling before the altar of the Mother.

Make sure to mention this again in case we missed it.

+.+.+

His sister looked over her shoulder. "Who?" she said, then, "Jaime?" She rose, her eyes brimming with tears. "Is it truly you?" She did not come to him, however. She has never come to me, he thought. She has always waited, letting me come to her. She gives, but I must ask. "You should have come sooner," she murmured, when he took her in his arms. "Why couldn't you have come sooner, to keep him safe? My boy . . ."

Our boy. "I came as fast I could." He broke from the embrace, and stepped back a pace. "It's war out there, Sister."

Our boy? Hahahaha. That's rich.

+.+.+

The candlelight woke fires in the rubies that decorated the bodice of Cersei's mourning dress as well.

Waking fires and rubies!

The fact that she's wearing rubies again makes it less likely she wore rubies to disrespect Robert, and that makes me sad.

+.+.+

"He killed him, Jaime. Just as he'd warned me. One day when I thought myself safe and happy he would turn my joy to ashes in my mouth, he said."

No, this ain't it. We're waiting for your POV to figure it out.

+.+.+

"Tyrion said that?" Jaime had not wanted to believe it. Kinslaying was worse than kingslaying, in the eyes of gods and men. He knew the boy was mine. I loved Tyrion. I was good to him. Well, but for that one time . . . but the Imp did not know the truth of that. Or did he? "Why would he kill Joff?"

"For a whore."

Passing reference to Tysha right before we learn why Tyrion might kill a family member.

What's up with Jaime calling him Imp?

+.+.+

She touched his face. "I was lost without you, Jaime. I was afraid the Starks would send me your head. I could not have borne that." She kissed him. A light kiss, the merest brush of her lips on his, but he could feel her tremble as he slid his arms around her. "I am not whole without you."

There was no tenderness in the kiss he returned to her, only hunger. Her mouth opened for his tongue. "No," she said weakly when his lips moved down her neck, "not here. The septons . . ."

"The Others can take the septons." He kissed her again, kissed her silent, kissed her until she moaned. Then he knocked the candles aside and lifted her up onto the Mother's altar, pushing up her skirts and the silken shift beneath. She pounded on his chest with feeble fists, murmuring about the risk, the danger, about their father, about the septons, about the wrath of gods. He never heard her. He undid his breeches and climbed up and pushed her bare white legs apart. One hand slid up her thigh and underneath her smallclothes. When he tore them away, he saw that her moon's blood was on her, but it made no difference.

"Hurry," she was whispering now, "quickly, quickly, now, do it now, do me now. Jaime Jaime Jaime." Her hands helped guide him. "Yes," Cersei said as he thrust, "my brother, sweet brother, yes, like that, yes, I have you, you're home now, you're home now, you're home." She kissed his ear and stroked his short bristly hair. Jaime lost himself in her flesh. He could feel Cersei's heart beating in time with his own, and the wetness of blood and seed where they were joined.

This is a mess that I have no desire to talk about.

Instead, let's focus on some other things:

Jaime and Cersei had sex on the Mother's alter. They had sex on the Mother's alter. Sex on the Mother's alter. The Mother. They had sex on that alter. The Mother's alter. On the Mother's alter is where they had sex. Not the floor. Not standing. Not any other alter. It was on the Mother's alter. The Mother. Mother. Mom. Mama. Ma. Baby.

Cersei's on her moon's blood. She's on her moon's blood. Moon's blood. She's bleeding. There's blood. Blood. Baby.

+.+.+

The pale marble was smeared with blood. Jaime wiped it clean with his sleeve, then bent to pick up the candles he had knocked over. Fortunately they had all gone out when they fell. If the sept had caught fire I might never have noticed.

Good thing we avoided a tragedy like that.

+.+.+

"I am sick of being careful. The Targaryens wed brother to sister, why shouldn't we do the same? Marry me, Cersei. Stand up before the realm and say it's me you want. We'll have our own wedding feast, and make another son in place of Joffrey."

She drew back. "That's not funny."

"Do you hear me chuckling?"

"Did you leave your wits at Riverrun?" Her voice had an edge to it. "Tommen's throne derives from Robert, you know that."

"He'll have Casterly Rock, isn't that enough? Let Father sit the throne. All I want is you."

Jesus, does he still have a fever?

+.+.+

Cersei recoiled from his stump. "Don't . . . don't talk like this. You're scaring me, Jaime. Don't be stupid. One wrong word and you'll cost us everything. What did they do to you?"

"They cut off my hand."

"No, it's more, you're changed."

She's the one who eats shit for this, when he's the one devising a plan where they're all killed.

+.+.+

"We'll talk later. On the morrow. I have Sansa Stark's maids in a tower cell, I need to question them . . . you should go to Father."

Nice going, Tyrion. You had to have your sex worker inside your home.

With your child bride.

+.+.+

"Jaime," Lord Tywin said, as if they'd last seen each other at breakfast. "Lord Bolton led me to expect you earlier. I had hoped you'd be here for the wedding."

"I was delayed." Jaime closed the door softly.

Oh, okay. There's your explanation. Are you satisfied?

+.+.+

He moved closer to the fire, to let his father see.

Lord Tywin pushed himself out of his chair, breath hissing between his teeth. "Who did this? If Lady Catelyn thinks—"

You mean thought? Lady Catelyn is dead, what is this?

See, now I'm wondering if there was a change of plans, and a rewrite. The above quote makes sense if Jaime arrived in King's Landing before the Red Wedding. That might explain this wonky timeline.

+.+.+

"We'll have their heads. Every one. Can you use a sword with your left hand?"

I can hardly dress myself in the morning. Jaime held up the hand in question for his father's inspection. "Four fingers, a thumb, much like the other. Why shouldn't it work as well?"

"Good." His father sat. "That is good. I have a gift for you. For your return. After Varys told me . . ."

What a coincidence, Jaime has a gift for Brienne.

+.+.+

"Cersei claims that Tyrion did it."

"Your brother served the king the poisoned wine, with a thousand people looking on."

"That was rather foolish of him."

The supposed dumb Lannister is the only one using his brain.

+.+.+

"I have taken Tyrion's squire into custody. His wife's maids as well. We shall see if they have anything to tell us.

I'm making you read it again.

God he's so stupid, I can't get over it. Did it to himself, I love it.

+.+.+

"I am tired of having highborn women kicking pails of shit at me, Father. No one ever asked me if I wanted to be Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, but it seems I am. I have a duty—"

"You do." Lord Tywin rose as well. "A duty to House Lannister. You are the heir to Casterly Rock. That is where you should be. Tommen should accompany you, as your ward and squire. The Rock is where he'll learn to be a Lannister, and I want him away from his mother. I mean to find a new husband for Cersei. Oberyn Martell perhaps, once I convince Lord Tyrell that the match does not threaten Highgarden. And it is past time you were wed. The Tyrells are now insisting that Margaery be wed to Tommen, but if I were to offer you instead—"

That genius Tywin Lannister thinks the Tyrells will settle for Casterly Rock after being promised the Iron Throne.

Don't even get me started on trying to give Cersei to Oberyn Martell.

+.+.+

"No. No. No. No. No. How many times must I say no before you'll hear it? Oberyn Martell? The man's infamous, and not just for poisoning his sword. He has more bastards than Robert, and beds with boys as well. And if you think for one misbegotten moment that I would wed Joffrey's widow . . ."

"Lord Tyrell swears the girl's still maiden."

"She can die a maiden as far as I'm concerned. I don't want her, and I don't want your Rock!"

+.+.+

The strained silence went on until it was more than Jaime could endure. "Father . . ." he began.

"You are not my son." Lord Tywin turned his face away. "You say you are the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and only that. Very well, ser. Go do your duty."

That's hilarious.

"You . . . you are no . . . no son of mine." - Tyrion XI, ASOS

How many times has that been used to prove Tyrion is a Targaryen? He says the same god damn thing to Jaime.

Final thoughts:

Is that the first and last interaction between Jaime and Tywin? Odd.

-> return to menu &lt;-