#honey pepper ix

[reservoirbunny]

Girly jirai/subcul jirai

[ewanmitchelll]

Imagine Taylor Swift’s songs (IX): Lover.

Imagine this is your first Christmas next to Aemond Targaryen… as your husband.

Warnings: cliche, light reading, lots of fluff.

Warnings 2: don’t mind me being late…

***

We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January. And this is our place, we make the rules. And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear. Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?

Aemond watches as you are humming happily, preparing the tree with your typical optimistic eyes. You are dressing his large shirt and your black pants, y/c hair tied in a bun.

Couldn’t you be more adorable?

“Honey, give me that box written “Christmas Decorations”, please. There is the small lights I must put around it”, he can tell by your voice you are anxious.

This is your first Christmas together since you’ve married about nine months ago and the Targaryens are coming to the dinner you are hosting. Although he doesn’t care about all of these traditions, you do, so he is there with you.

“Just a second, love”, he quits admiring you for now and goes instantly to help you.

Once he does, you are quick in placing the lights around the tree and to close all you put a star on top.

“That is absolutely stunning”, he surprises you by throwing you over his shoulders, earning him a squeak. “My darling, they do not deserve any effort of you.”

As you are put down, you giggle like a little girl. Being taller than you, you have to tiptoe to kiss him.

“How unkind of you to say so, husband dear. They have all been so nice to me… It’s only worth the effort.” You squeeze his cheeks. “But what do you think? Please be honest.”

Aemond sighs heavily, hands resting on your waist.

“It’s perfect, my love. When haven’t you ever done anything perfectly?” He fusses you with kisses, making you giggle again.

“I need that crude honesty you use at your family dinners, honey.”

He laughs quietly.

“My sharp tongue is a trait only used to them, dear. But it’s really good. Besides… Come here”, he leads you to the window, placing himself behind you. “It’s snowing.”

And here comes the expected reaction of the year: when you beam overjoyed because snow falls from sky. When you fill his expectations, he twirls you around him and puts you against him.

“Are you really my wife?”

“Are you really my husband?”, you smile warmly at him, eyes sparkling with the purest devotion. “You still didn’t answer me, young man.”

Aemond pretends to roll his eyes at you before looking down at your eyes, rocking you in his arms.

“If it was up to me, this Christmas would last until January.”

“It’s our place, we make the rules”, you smile brightly at him.

Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever? And ah, take me out, and take me home. You're my, my, my, my lover.

His heart skips a beat at how your face lightens at his words. Aemond sighs quietly and you drown in his eyes, loving this man with every inch of your heart and soul.

“It’s you and me”, you promise him. “No one is going to ruin it.”

Aemond doesn’t respond, but he believes in you, faithful he’s become after becoming devoted in you.

“As it should”, he takes you for a silent waltz and you rest your forehead against his chest, feeling so bubbly and sillily happy when it comes to him, to you, to both of you as a whole.

***

It’s December 24th. The supper is meant to be midnight punctually, when it transits to December 25th.

Aemond is sat lazily at the edge of his bed, not very excited for the holidays. But his eyes are following your eager moves, admiring you possessively as you opt for a silk green gown, 50’s like, and comb your y/c locks.

“Aren’t you getting ready? Your mother is punctual”, he can tell you are nervous.

Partially half nude, he comes at you and, right in front of the mirror, he pulls you.

“Don’t rush me, darling. They can wait”, so Aemond says, peppering kisses around your neck, aware of your weak spots.

“Honey…”, you smirk, your knees already shaking. “We can’t. Not now, anyways. Besides…”, you turn at him with the kind of malice in your eyes that Aemond loves to see, “if you behave well tonight there’ll be no need to get early tomorrow.”

Aemond laughs quietly, before stroking your cheek.

“Have I corrupted my angel? Oh my, what have I done?”

You wrap your hands around his neck, tilting your head to the side, eyeing him with the utmost love.

“Oh don’t play coy at me, Aemond Targaryen. You are the only one here to blame for messing with my hormones, all right? Now go get your ass dressed!”

Laughing still, he reluctantly parts, letting go of you… for the moment.

***

The ring bells. Helaena is the first to break the awkward silence that has installed in the family after mother and father broke in an argument.

“I’m pretty sure this will be a lovely reunion. Y/N is very perfectionist when it comes to decorating.”

“I’m sure she is”, Alicent agrees. “She’s a lovely girl.”

“Too lovely for Aemond”, says Aegon, the opinionated.

“Don’t get me started with this nonsense, Aegon”, says Alicent, buffing. “Behave. She’s family.”

Before Aegon has the chance to argue, Daeron is the one who promptly presses the ring bell. The door doesn’t take long to open and soon comes before everyone’s view you and the ever socially awkward Aemond Targaryen.

“My darling!”, Alicent, placing herself as the mother of the family, is the one who comes to embrace you properly. “Looking beautiful as ever!”

“Son”, Viserys moves to greet Aemond, putting the other to a hug. “Looking healthy and good!”

Aemond smirks, hugging his father in return rather uncomfortably.

“Nice to see you too, dad.” And he turns quickly to his brothers. “Daeron. Aegon.”

“What’s up, my man?”, says Aegon, clasping behind Aemond’s back. “Nice apartment, by the way. Looks nice.”

“Yeah, it surely is.”

“Do you have a library? If I reckon, Y/N is quite a reader”, says Daeron, the brightest of the three.

“Yeah, we do. Feel free to look at it if you like.”

Daeron never before looks so happy for being there. Soon he vanishes off the view.

“Laena, my dear”, Aemond’s face has some emotion when spotting his sister. “How are you?”

“I’m doing fantastic, thank you”, and here she closes the distance between them by hugging him tight. “I love the decoration. Let me guess, all of this is Y/N’s doing, isn’t it?”

Aemond has the decency of blushing.

“Come on now, I’ve tried my best in helping. But you know what a perfectionist she is.”

Not too far from him, you say:

“I’ve heard that, Aemond!”

Soon, the room is filled with laughters. In the meantime Helaena is putting a Christmas hat over everyone’s head, you and Mrs Alicent are engaging in nice conversations.

“…and of course we have turkey for dinner. I’ve ensure everything is as traditional as possible”, that is the part Aemond hears when he sets behind you at the couch. You turn your head and squeak when seeing him all shy with a Christmas hat over his head. “Oh, love! How adorable you look!”

He lowers his gaze, crimson pink painting his pale features, a sight that makes you forget you have guests to entertain. Discreetly, you cup his face and kiss his cheeks, earning a “awwwww”, most likely from Helaena, and missing an eye roll from Aegon.

“Thank you, my sweet”, Aemond whispers, taking your hands and there pressing a kiss. Then turning at his mother, he asks. “Should we expect anyone else?”

Alicent, watching the scene proudly, now holds her husband’s hand as if they are the very example of a couple—even if in reality it’s not as she wants to make it seem.

“Do you mean your sister Rhaenyra and your brother Baelon?”

It’s Viserys who replies:

“Rhaenyra is not coming, I’m afraid. She’s busy attending the Velaryon’s Christmas with Harwin. But Baelon is coming, of course. He loves you dearly, as you know, Aemond.”

You are more than aware that Rhaenyra has always preferred to surround herself with the Strongs than with the Targaryens, a disappointment that you struggle to conceal. Aemond, however, knows you well enough, so he squeezes your hand in a reassuring way that her absence matters little.

At least the same cannot be said of Baelon, the peacemaker of the family.

“I’m glad he’s coming”, says Aemond. “But doubtful he’ll get on time.”

“Well, there is plenty of time until dinner is ready”, you remark, back to smile.

“Thank you for receiving us well, my children”, says Alicent, when taking your hand and giving it a squeeze. “It means a lot to me, to us all.”

You smile back, suddenly remembering the old days. Three years ago, when you were introduced to the family, Mrs Alicent initially had not taken you well. All of this, as you came to know in due time, was because she used to clash with Alys Rivers all the time.

You’d know also, from a more reliable source (that is to say Helaena), that Alys was the kind of woman who cared very little by other’s opinions. To worse all, she got herself involved with… Aegon, who always thought himself better than Aemond.

The family back then was cracked. Aemond and Aegon had a huge fight because of it, leading the former to rebel against his family. Feeling like his presence didn’t matter much, he was often found in places where he shouldn’t be, surrounded by unpleasant companions, until Helaena urged him to righten his wrongs.

In the midst of a crisis in his parents’ marriage (apparently, Mrs Alicent preferred other… hum… companies than her husband’s), Aemond found you. You didn’t want to change him, aware this wasn’t your part after all. By taking him as he is, all went well. And you and him fell so hard that, three years later, you got married.

It so appears that your marriage reunited the broken family, so little wonder why Mrs Alicent eventually got attached to you and here you two are, kind of like mother and daughter. With your mother gone to the North, working as diplomat, Mrs Alicent took the role by herself and your sensible heart gladly accepted it.

Though you still can see the mends, you are pleased to find everyone in good terms—and this is a family that took you in, hence why you wanted to make this a great Christmas dinner.

“It’s nothing, really. You are my family now as you know it”, you explain with a warm smile on your lips. “It’s a great delight in being able to receive you here.”

Talks here and there, eventually a few more guests arrive. These are your and Aemond’s friends, couples who had introduced you to him years ago.

And suddenly, everyone is crashing in and the mood is just… all too graceful and merry for your spirits.

To your delight, even the rebellious Aegon is being nice, coming to good terms with Aemond after a long time in strained relationship. Helaena doesn’t leave your side… until Cregan Stark comes by and asks her for a dance. You don’t think you’ve ever seen your sister-in-law blush as deeply as today.

We could let our friends crash in the living room. This is our place, we make the call. (…) I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all.

In the midst of it, though, Aemond pursuits you. He leads you outside to have some fresh air, as music plays inside and everyone is having their fun.

“Thank you”, he tells you, stroking your cheek as a hand rests over your waist.

You tilt your head to the right, eyeing him slightly confused.

“What for, honey?”

“For providing me a happy and safe Christmas”, he whispers to your ear. “For providing my family a decent reunion in years. Thank you, wife. You know you didn’t have to.”

Your eyes blurry a little with this secretive confession. You’ve long accepted that Aemond struggled with sentiments, especially in how to express them. But you also knew he has his own way to do so.

Even so, hearing all of it makes your heart race. Keeping the surprise speech in your mind, you answer him with a sweet kiss and there you stay for a few seconds…

***

Dinner’s finally ready. Table is set, food is served and champagne is poured in everyone’s glasses. You let Mrs Alicent open midnight with a prayer, respecting her religiosity.

Only then you raise and ask for everyone’s attention. Sitting in the opposite side is Aemond with his Christmas hat, eyeing you with a mix of curiosity and devotion. You are beginning to flush deeply when you start your speech.

Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand? With every guitar string scar on my hand, I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover. My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue. All's well that ends well to end up with you. Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover. And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me. And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover.

You thus finish it by praising the Maker for this reunion, thanking family and friends for this perfect Christmas dinner, hoping everyone has enjoyed it.

“Merry Christmas, family!”

As you lower your gaze, suddenly shy, you miss the sobs of Mrs Alicent, the tearful gaze of Helaena and Baela, and even Mr Viserys is emotional. No one notices how teary is also Aemond.

For the first time in his life, the rogue prince is brought to (happy) tears.

***

Epilogue.

Kissing your shoulders and neck, his arms snake around your waist, unwilling to let go of you. Then bringing your face to his, he peppers your cheeks, eyes and lips with gentle kisses.

“Merry Christmas, my darling. It’s snowing”, he whispers.

You giggle softly, opening your eyes as you spot snow from the window. Then clinging onto him, you bury your head in his neck, making him chuckle.

“What? I thought you’d like to go outside and make snowballs”, he says, amused.

“I’d rather stay stuck with you today.” You whisper against his neck, making him shiver. “I want my husband to myself.”

He rolls over you, bringing your attention to him.

“Do you realize my family is sleeping in here, in two other bedrooms?”

“And?”

“And eventually we must leave here.”

Lifting your hips and engulfing him with your legs, you stare at him mischievously.

“Not now, surely.”

Aemond laughs heartily before diving into your lips.

“Now now for sure”, he agrees, giving in to your needs.

[thiefbracket]

SUBMISSIONS HAVE BEEN COUNTED

Thanks again for everyone's submissions! some of you were very passionate and it was great to learn about all these characters, I received 92 characters over 119 submissions and from that there was only 4 that I couldn't justify as thieves so apologies to those who didn't get in, with some from me and friends we have a final roster of 96. And so without further ado here are your competitors!

Raphael/ Phantom R: Rhythm thief and the Emperors Treasure

Daroach: Kirby Squeak Squad

Bilbo Baggins: The Hobbit

The Hamburglar: McDonalds Cinematic Universe

Ron DeLite/Mask☆DeMasque: Ace Attorney Trials and Tribulations

Kaitou Kid: Detective Conan

Swiper: Dora the Explorer

Chilli Pepper Cookie: Cookie Run

Carmen Sandiego: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego

Vriska Serket: Homestuck

Sly Cooper: Sly Cooper

Garrett: Thief

The Phantom Thieves: Persona 5

Ms. Mows: Paper Mario the Thousand Year Door

Ms. Fortune: SKullgirls

Scipio Fortunato (Piscio): The Thief Lord

Therion: Octopath Traveller

Roguefort Cookie: Cookie Run

Kaz Brekker: Shadow and Bones/ Six of Crows

Catwoman: Batman

Gru: Despicable Me

Jeets Shimis: Dungeons & Dragons Online

Parker: Leverage

Artemis Fowl: Artemis Fowl

Nött the Brave/Veth Brenatto: Critical Role

The Beagle Boys: Ducktales

Rosé: Drawtectives

Dorapin: Doraemon

Wario: Super Mario Bros

Magalor: Kirby's Return to Dreamland

Loba Andrade: Apex Legends

Nami: One Piece

“Thief King” Bakura: Yu-Gi-Oh!

Sal Leon: Mask of Shadows

The Collector: Hollow Knight

Astotheles: Bug Fables

Gaius: Fire Emblem Awakening

Burglar: The Sims 

Kokichi Oma: Danganronpa V3 Killing Harmony

Lifty and Shifty: Happy Tree Friends

Long John Silver: Black Sails

The Brickster: Lego Island

Some Sneaky Sim: The Sims

Danny Ocean: Ocean’s 11

Indiana Jones: Indiana Jones

Magpie: Real Life

Dean Domino: Fall out New Vegas

Cassian Andor: rogue one

Luke Castellan: Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Popple: Mario and Luigi Superstar Saga

Mulch Diggums: Artemis Fowl

RJ Racoon: Over The Hedge

Beni Gabor: The Mummy

Sonny Wortzik: Dog Day Afternoon

A.J. Raffles: A.J. Raffles Short Stories

Team Rocket: Pokémon

Locke Cole: Final Fantasy 6

Yuffie Kisaragi: Final Fantasy 7

Edmund "Ned" Kelly Fuckin' Danger Discretion Aloysius Superstar Butterfly Nimbly Ninja Pacifist Black Diamond Friendly Trustworthy Pissed Off [Redacted] Vamoose Su-Sussudio Middle Name Chicane Jr.: Taz Amnesty

The Beachcomber: Cultist Simulator

Erin: Thief

Delilah Bard: Shades of Magic Series

Herbert Percival Bear, Esquire: Club Penguin

Arsène Lupin: Arsène Lupin

Rouge The Bat: Sonic The Hedgehog

Grovyle: PMD Explorers of Time/Darknes/Sky

Camicazi: How to Train Your Dragon Books

Mick Rory/ Heatwave: The Flash/DC Legends of Tomorrow

Hermes: Greek Mythology

Zidane Tribal: Final Fantasy IX

Duster: Mother 3

Glendale: Centaurworld

Ada Wong: Resident Evil

Nickit: Pokemon Sword and Shield

Purrloin: Pokemon Black and White

Gokaigers: Kaizoku Sentai Gokaiger

Zox Goldtsuiker / Twokaiser: Kikai Sentai Zenkaiger

Kitty Softpaws: Puss in Boots

Deep Cut: Splatoon 3

Meenah Peixes: Homestuck

D.J. Octavio: Splatoon

Ratbeard: Pirate 101

Gen AKA Eugenides: The Queen's Thief

Lupinrangers (and Noel): Kaitou Sentai Lupinranger

Chester "Snake" Turley AKA Snake Jailbird AKA Albert Knickerbocker Aloysius Snake AKA Professor Jailbird AKA Detention Bird: The Simpsons

Cain: the Binding of Isaac

Robin hood: English Mythology

Erik: Dragon quest 11

The Artful Dodger: Oliver Twist

Kamen Rider Lupin: Kamen Rider Drive

Lupin III: Lupin The Third

Pumpkin and Honey Bunny: Pulp Fiction

Niles: Fire Emblem Fates

Daiki Kaito/ Kamen rider Diend: Kamen Rider Decade

Doug Judy (The Pontiac Bandit): Brooklyn 99

Prometheus: Greek Mythology

Seeding will begin tomorrow and the first part of round 1 will hopefully be posted in the next few days. Thanks again for all your patience!

[istumpysk]

Hello Stumpy... Do you know if anyone in the queens box eat anything other than the locust? Like do we know if anything else was also poinsoned or just the locust? Because I don't think Dany has ever eat locust before, right? Like it's a really dumb murder attempt to poison something your victim doesn't even like. Like Hizdar would have any idea of what she would be most likely to eat and it's not locust

When I did that chapter I saw a few people on Reddit question if it was the wine.

Hizdahr had stocked their box with flagons of chilled wine and sweetwater, with figs, dates, melons, and pomegranates, with pecans and peppers and a big bowl of honeyed locusts. Strong Belwas bellowed, "Locusts!" as he seized the bowl and began to crunch them by the handful.

[...]

"Bad fighting, good dying," said Strong Belwas. "Strong Belwas hates it when they scream." He had finished all the honeyed locusts. He gave a belch and took a swig of wine. - Daenerys IX, ADWD

Given how much Shavepate trolls Barristan with locusts, I'm not sure why they even question this, but I digress.

It is a dumb way to assassinate her, which might be more evidence supporting the theory that Hizdahr was the target.

"Those are very tasty," advised Hizdahr. "You ought to try a few yourself, my love. They are rolled in spice before the honey, so they are sweet and hot at once." - Daenerys IX, ADWD

[charleecat-bat]

Magic AU- Familiars

All the familiars finally have names! Sonic- Peregrine Falcon named Chilli Tails- Octopus named Gizmo Amy- Swan named Roman Knuckles- Dragon named Tarragon Shadow- Dove named Tulip (She originally belonged to Maria) Rouge- Peacock named Alexandrite (just shortens to Alex) Silver- Snake named Fettuccine Blaze- Lion named Malak Cream- Unicorn named Glimmer Vanilla- Deer named Marmalade Big- Froggy (did you really think i was gonna have froggy erasure. I think not) Vector- Bat named Roxanne (just calls her Roxie) Espio- Praying Mantis named Chihiro Charmy- Hummingbird named Flaps Mighty- Turtle named Pistachio Matilda- Fox named Jinx Ray- Mouse named Taters Nack- Beetle named Nibbles (Nibbles was discarded until Nack found him) Bark- Elk named Apricity Bean- Pheonix named Sparks Scourge- Hyena named Dagger Jet- Eagle named Chaser Wave- Scorpion named Pincer Storm- Shark named Pepper Zero AKA Infinite- Moth named Nox (Not his first familiar, he lost his first one a long time ago) Gadget- Bee named Goldie Shade- Cat named Dusk (Also not her first, Ix... disposed of her first familiar) Marine- Otter named Captain Honey- Spider named Silky Tiara- Antelope named Frisk Tikal- Manatee named Dacey

[luisamiller]

Torta russa di Verona

Veronese cake made with almonds, almond flour, amaretti (Italian hard almond cookies), Amaretto (Italian almond liquor) eggs, butter, lemon zest and cane sugar.

Crescionda

Carnival cake from the city of Spoleto made with amaretti, Amaretto, eggs, milk, lemon zest, sugar and dark chocolate.

Zuccotto pasquale

Sicilian Easter cake made with orange blossom water, candied orange, candied citron, dark chocolate, hazelnuts, liquid cream, eggs, butter and sugar.

Torta di San Grato

Aostan cake made with Renette apples, cinnamon, white flour, yellow flour, butter, sugar and bread crumbs.

Frustingo

Christmas sweet from the Marche region made with dried figs, raisins, candied citron, candied orange, pine nuts, walnuts, almonds, cocoa, dark chocolate, coffee, extra-virgin olive oil, Anisette, cinnamon, nutmeg, black pepper, rhum, sugar and must.

Pigna pasquale

Molisan Easter cake made with potatoes, honey, aniseed, vanilla, orange zest, lemon zest, eggs, butter and sugar.

Milk pan

Molisan Christmas cake made with Milk (Molisan milk-based liquor), white chocolate, hazelnut paste, eggs, butter, sugar, lemon zest and vanilla.

Torta di Sapa

Sardinian autumn cake made with Sapa (Italian syrup obtained from most), raisins, almonds, walnuts, lemon zest, orange zest, eggs, butter, cinnamon and sugar.

Torta de Menjar Blanc

Sardinian cake made with butter, milk, sugar and lemon.

Torta alla Tintilia

Molisan cake made with Tintilia (Molisan red wine), dark chocolate, butter, eggs and sugar.

[divergenceau]

Multicare Patreon Leak (Divergence TTKM)

vanilla sections only btw (lol) (gru answered)

honestly man i feel like anything past nurse mood's section probably makes literally no sense so if there's anything i should probably change to make this roster not stupid tell me

no i don't support the absolute pile of pure subhuman filth that is smash bandicoot

Xenophanes - Ctesias

Boyfriend - Garfield (or just boyfriend as an anthry)

Tails - Barry

Knuckles - Caroline

Eggman - Cuddles

Metal Sonic - Kneevil

Amy - Hemera

Shadow - Nurse Doom

Rouge - Rem

Big - Polly

Chaos - Peepbeep (DEBATABLE)

Majin Sonic - Doodle Uni

Spy - bear5

Silver - Mel

Blaze - Cyn

Cream - Jay

Team Chaotix - Miley, Jandy and Bec

E-123 Omega - Nurse Mood

Chip - Finnegan (DEBATABLE)

Scratch and Grounder - Funfetti and Puppy

Sally - Kiki Piralis (DEBATABLE)

Sticks - Sunshine

Babylon Rouges - Social Workers

Emerl - Solva Puzzle (DEBATABLE)

Erazor Djinn - Handerson (DEBATABLE)

Bean - Orange

Orbot and Cubot - Sugar Twins

Chris Thorndyke - Ribbon Pop (DEBATABLE)

Heavy and Bomb - The Kiddois

Bark - Chipsky

Infinite - Party

Omochao - Sickov Thistle/Kitter Catter

Eggman Nega - Dr. Prickles

Fang - Reese

The Deadly Six - The Cometkids (PROBABLY THE WORST OFFENDER)

Honey - Nya

Flicky - A Random Worm

Tikal - Jean Errie

Ray and Mighty - Scratch and Pepper

Tails Doll - Barrific

Tom Wachowski - Nadia Snare (DEBATABLE)

Metal Knuckles - shit uhhh bearry??? idk (honestly dawg idk)

Mecha Sonic - Charles Wells (DEBATABLE)

Black Doom - Bea (DEBATABLE)

King Arthur - Stone (DEBATABLE)

Lumina - Lee Pinata (DEBATABLE) (he would be coconuts if he had a section but he doesn't sooo)

Imperator Ix - Healy Yum or Suffuzz (DEBATABLE EITHER WAY)

Bunnie Rabbot - Till Fate

Tangle and Whisper - Kills and Shortnick

Soul Spy - Phantom bear5

Kyle and Tom - Emem and Tears

Super Xenophanes - Enchanted Ctesias

Hyper Xenophanes - idk dawg

[seminolesubs]

How to Make Naked Wings | Crispy Naked Fried Chicken Wings

When it comes to chicken wings, there's a timeless debate between saucy and naked varieties. While saucy wings have their charm, naked wings offer a crispy, flavorful experience that's hard to beat. In this guide, we'll explore how to make perfect naked wings that are crispy on the outside and juicy on the inside.

II. Ingredients and Equipment

To make naked wings, you'll need:

Chicken wings

Seasonings and spices (such as salt, pepper, garlic powder, and paprika)

Flour or alternative coatings (like cornstarch or almond flour)

Cooking oil (vegetable oil or peanut oil work well)

Kitchen tools (a deep fryer or large pot, tongs, and a wire rack)

III. Preparation

Cleaning and Drying the Wings: Start by rinsing the chicken wings under cold water and patting them dry with paper towels. Removing excess moisture ensures crispiness during cooking.

Seasoning the Wings: Season the wings generously with your favorite spices. This step adds flavor to the wings and creates a delicious crust.

Coating the Wings: Dredge the seasoned wings in flour or your preferred coating. This helps achieve that crispy texture we all love.

IV. Cooking Methods

Frying: Heat oil in a deep fryer or large pot to 375°F (190°C). Carefully add the coated wings in batches, ensuring they're not overcrowded. Fry until golden brown and cooked through, about 10-12 minutes per batch.

Baking: Preheat your oven to 400°F (200°C). Place the coated wings on a wire rack set over a baking sheet. Bake for 45-50 minutes, flipping halfway through, until the wings are crispy and golden.

V. Serving Suggestions

Pair your naked wings with an array of dipping sauces, such as ranch, blue cheese, or barbecue sauce. Serve alongside classic sides like celery sticks and carrot sticks for a complete meal.

VI. Tips for Success

Temperature Control: Maintain the oil temperature when frying to ensure crispy wings.

Timing: Keep an eye on the wings while cooking to prevent overcooking or burning.

Texture: Achieve the perfect balance of crispy skin and juicy meat for an irresistible bite.

VII. Variations

Experiment with different flavor profiles to keep things interesting:

Spicy Naked Wings: Add cayenne pepper or hot sauce to the seasoning mix for a fiery kick.

Honey Glazed Naked Wings: Drizzle honey over the cooked wings for a sweet and sticky glaze.

Asian-Inspired Naked Wings: Use soy sauce, ginger, and garlic in the seasoning for an Asian twist.

VIII. Health Considerations

While naked wings can be a delicious treat, it's essential to enjoy them in moderation. Consider alternative cooking methods like air frying or grilling for a healthier option without sacrificing flavor.

IX. Conclusion

Making crispy naked wings at home is a rewarding experience that's sure to impress your friends and family. With the right ingredients, preparation, and cooking techniques, you can enjoy restaurant-quality wings in the comfort of your own kitchen.

FAQs ------------

Can I use boneless chicken for naked wings?

Absolutely! Boneless chicken strips can be coated and cooked using the same methods for delicious naked wings.

What's the best dipping sauce for naked wings?

It ultimately depends on your taste preferences, but classic options like ranch and barbecue sauce are always crowd-pleasers.

Can I make naked wings ahead of time?

While they're best enjoyed fresh, you can prepare the wings up to the coating stage and refrigerate them until ready to cook.

How do I store leftover naked wings?

Store leftover wings in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to three days. Reheat them in the oven or air fryer for best results.

What's the secret to extra crispy wings?

Ensuring the wings are completely dry before seasoning and coating is key to achieving maximum crispiness.

[drawnfromthesilt]

something about sour grapes and paperwork.

i.

Imagine a glass of milk. It stands proud on a freshly polished table with a thin layer of froth on top; it must have just been poured. The Sun is shining through the open window behind it, and the crimson curtains cascade in a gentle breeze. You take a sip, and it tastes like every home-cooked meal that’s found its way to a plate. Don’t cry, no one’s burnt the turkey yet.

ii.

Imagine a glass of milk, poised like a dancer on the dining room table. Your mother is setting out all the forks and knives and you put down those salt and pepper shakers you’ve had all your life and the glass teeters and totters but never falls. She gives you a weird look that smells like peroxide. “Careful there, honey,” she says. “I don’t have time for laundry tonight.”

iii.

You wake up before the birds and pour yourself a glass of milk. You never really liked milk, but you’ve always kept a gallon of it in your fridge for safe-keeping. Your shaky hands splash a little on the countertop, and you wipe it up with some paper towel before God sees it. It’s a close call, but you don’t hear a storm brewing, so you tell yourself it’s fine.

iv.

You have a little fishie you won from the fairground swimming in a bowl on the Lazy Susan. You haven’t picked out a name for him yet, but you’re leaning towards Milk. Your best friend keeps saying Milk’s gonna die soon but you know better. Milk’s gonna be with you forever. You watch him at mealtimes, and feed him his little pinches of fish food every night. Your mom says he kind of looks like you. You find him floating upside down in his tank a couple days later and you don’t look in the mirror anymore.

v.

Imagine a glass of milk, and it’s suppertime. You must have nudged the glass after a particularly good joke, because it tumbles gracelessly to the unflinching wood beneath it and the glass shatters in spider webs, its shards laying limp like corpses as the milk pools beneath them. You’re halfway through drawing the chalk outline around it when you realize everyone’s attention has snapped to you with their eyes of angels, and for a moment you think you understand how Eve felt. You’re wrong, of course— at least Eve had the decency to know how she failed us.

vi.

Imagine two glasses of milk, and one falls. Sorry for jumping straight to the chase but it’s dripping onto the tile and I thought you’d quite like to know about it. You don’t react fast enough, and your father is picking up the other glass and throwing it to the ground and no one’s saying anything and raindrops are coming in through the open window. Hopefully, the downpour will wash all this away.

vii.

The kitchen is flooding. You finally shut that damn window, but the rainwater flowed all the way to the carpet in the living room, and now the whole house reeks of mildew. Your father’s out in the storm trying to smoke his cigarette, but the whole pack is soggy and none of them will light. You sweep the fragments of glass off the floor with a broom but it gets all wet and you end up tossing it out. You have to clean the rest up with your bare hands.

viii.

You wake to sheets soaked with your own blood. There’s a sliver of glass in your thumb and it’s been leaking all night like the faucet in your bathroom you’re too scared to ask for help fixing. You pull it out with your teeth and lap at the wound like an injured puppy with a thorn in its paw; it tastes like Milk One, Milk Prime, like all the meals you don’t eat anymore, and you lick your skin to the bone.

ix.

Imagine ten glasses of milk, all balanced precariously on your kitchen counter. They giggle like the fairies on mushrooms no one believed you about and they tip to one side or the other, taunting you. As you reach out to pull them away from the edge, they all dive off.

x.

Imagine a thousand glasses of milk in pieces on the ground, each step you take accompanied by the crunches and rasps of the fallen. You start shoveling Milk Glass Mountain into the trash, but the shards slice through the bag and only end up accumulating at the bottom of the bin. Daddy’s damp cigarettes are out on the porch, but your gash-laden fingers won’t close around them, all ruined flesh and strawberry cream. You take your hands and hurl them over the railing of the deck and head back inside. Those damn things never did you much good anyway.

xi.

Your eyes land on a mug in the cabinet. Cobwebs coat the inside of it, and you can’t grab the handle anymore. You slam the cabinet door shut and curl in a ball on the floor.

xii.

You’re thirsty. The stumps where your hands should be are shaking and your throat burns something fierce. You kneel before a bowl like a dog on your knees and sup milk from it until you’re tired and keep going anyway. It seems awful rude to crawl away before you’ve drunk it all down; whatever god or king or god-king put it here for you had been so generous. He only wants what’s best for you, honey.

xiii.

Imagine a glass of milk. It wobbles weakly on a table warped with rot, and soap suds run down from the rim to mingle with the froth— don’t blame me, you’ve run out of glasses. The window behind it is barred shut with metal cross beams, and the burgundy curtains are rags on the cracked tile. You take a sip, and it’s so sour that you vomit back into the cup. You’re afraid that if you cry, milk might come out of your tear ducts. You don’t cry.

xiv.

Imagine a glass of blood. You’re not sure if it’s yours or your father’s. You’re not sure if there’s a difference. You don’t even flinch by now when it crashes to the ground, and when you pick the shavings up off the floor, milk is pouring out of your severed skin.

xv.

If a glass of milk falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it still spill?

xvi.

If a glass of milk falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, why are you still bleeding?

xvii.

Imagine nothing. You stretch your arms as far as they will reach, and they return to you as pitiful hounds, the only evidence of their hunt the sickly sweet stench of surrendered hope between their teeth. You are dry and whole again, and gravity has let you off its leash. You then tear away the blackout curtains from the window to join the moldy tatters on the tile and pry off your barricades with a crowbar. The milk-white moon has your father’s face, and it is headed straight for you.

xviii.

Imagine a hundred thousand broken glasses of milk piling up in your trash can, and everywhere you go all you smell is iron, and everyone around you is gorging on cheese and ice cream and butter and you think there’s something wrong with you. You’re in the bathroom and you’re clawing open your stomach and milk’s gushing out like a fountain, your body finally rejecting it like a transplant gone wrong. You don’t know what happens after you rip out your eyes, all you know is that you feel hollow.

xix.

The morning after the end of the world, you find the house empty. You peer out the windows, and no one walks along the streets. You grab the empty carton of milk from the fridge and make your way to the cemetery. You missed everyone’s funeral, but you’re not too shaken up about it. At least you won’t have to send any consolation cards. You pause at the grave of your father and bury the carton with him, and the missing child on the back resembles the reflection you haven’t looked at in a while. Your fist clenches around the ghost of something that never was, and clouds swirl overhead. It’s time to head home.

xx.

There is a vacant spot in your fridge. The next time you go to the store, you buy orange juice instead.

[floralseokjin]

⤑ made-up love song vi (m).

Your first encounter with Kim Seokjin doesn’t go so well, nor your second, or your third… and maybe that’s because it shouldn’t work on paper. You’re an elementary school teacher, never left the country despite hitting the third decade of your life not so long ago, and you’re unable to remember the last time you dated. He’s the dad of one of your students, nearly a decade older than you and divorced. Oh yes, and just another minor detail – he’s a multimillionaire. 

Your lives are lightyears apart, yet somehow, your paths having now crossed, things just seem to fall into place…

pairing; kim seokjin x reader   au/genre/warnings; strangers to lovers, romance, eventual angst, single dad! seokjin, ceo! seokjin, elementary school teacher! oc, age gap (oc is 30, seokjin is 37), seokjin is a dilf, smut; basically a montage of the sex they’ve been having during the rest of the summer lol, they can’t keep their hands off one another, seokjin’s mouth gets progressively dirtier as time goes on, he also gets strategic with condom storage, smut includes; 69, face riding, condomless sex, creampie, biting, (light) spanking, there’s cute things too, like arin’s birthday party and oc meeting his parents   words; 12,064

↪︎ chapter index

chapters; i • ii • iii • iv • v • vi • vii • viii • ix • x • epilogue (+ drabbles)

You spent the whole of Sunday in bed – which you thought was Seokjin’s plan all along, only finding your way downstairs to eat, and even then he couldn’t keep his hands off you for long enough. (Not that you minded.) He was making the most of it, he told you, before he had to leave you for work. That, and he was waving goodbye to his celibacy the right way… Despite your snort, you understood what he meant. You had fun familiarising yourself with the wonders of sex again… Miraculously blessed with an abundance of energy. Although, when it came to Seokjin, how could you even think about resisting him?! You couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. And neither could he… 

“Mmm. What time is it?” You asked Monday morning, voice heavy with sleep, eyes still closed as you heard Seokjin’s alarm go off. He stirred beside you, sitting up to knock the device off before burrowing back under the covers to wrap his arms around your naked body. 

“Half 6,” he grumbled, mouth pressed against the back of your neck. “I don’t want to work.” With one squeeze to his chest, you felt that very obvious erection of his pressed against your ass. “Can’t I just stay here for the rest of the day? Inside you…”

You giggled, attempting to roll over and face him. A hand cupped your cheek instantly, puffy lips finding yours. Morning Seokjin wasn’t good for your heart. His messy hair flopping over his eyes, pillow marks marring his skin, the slight stubble beginning to grow along his top lip… It was all just so… sexy, and now you were wide awake. Still, some teasing couldn’t be helped. 

“We literally spent yesterday all day in bed…”

“Yes, and it was amazing,” he declared. “I’d do it all again today.” 

You raised an eyebrow, a palm holding him steady at the waist. “All again? You do realise we still have all week to go, right? I wouldn’t want you to fail on me so soon…” 

He huffed out a laugh, fingertips ever so cheekily grazing the underside of your right breast. “You underestimate me…” His voice was still gruff from sleep, it made his words ripple through your body, settling between your legs. “I still have 95% of the condoms to use. So,” he grinned, dipping his head to capture your mouth. “You,” – he rolled you onto your back expertly – “better,” – he kissed your throat – “keep,” – then your cleavage – “ up.” His tongue around your nipple had you gasping out immediately, back arching, wanting more. 

Spreading your legs, he nestled in between them easily, the muscles of his meaty thighs protruding as he kneeled up slightly. You gripped them urgently, needing to anchor yourself somehow, knowing what was about to come. 

His teeth grazed your nipple as he dragged away, lifting his head up to smirk. “What do you say, baby, one for the road?”

Baby. Yesterday he’d become quite partial to that word, learning quite quickly what it did to you, what effect it had on you. (Yes, a curse word – or two, or more – may have slipped out of you yesterday… He’d won, embarrassingly soon.) 

You refrained from rolling your eyes, but still told him to shut up. Two minutes later he was buried inside you making you moan out his name. 

It wasn’t even 7am. 

.

.

When Seokjin finally got off to work (after about a bajillion kisses…), you slipped into the shower, attempting to work it without breaking it. With that successful, you wondered downstairs to make some breakfast. It was strange being inside his house alone. You’d arrived to meet him for lunch early a couple of times, yes, but Misook and Arin had always been there ready to greet you. Today it was just you, playing music as loud as you could just to drown out the deafening silence as pottered about in the kitchen. After eating, you washed the dishes (most leftover from yesterday) in the sink, unsure how to set the dishwasher correctly, and wondered to yourself how Seokjin had managed to cope living here alone before Arin moved in… 

You busied yourself with unpacking your case, not having a chance to do it yesterday – too preoccupied – while watching the clock. You had a lunch date with Soojung at half 11. You’d managed to text her a brief reply yesterday but other than that you’d been AWOL. You knew it must’ve been killing her. By the time you met up at the food court, she was frothing at the mouth, desperate for all the details, which you gave to her in hushed whispers over a shared thin crust margherita. You didn’t divulge all though, just enough to keep her nosey butt satisfied. 

“This is not fair at all,” she whined. “You were getting dilfed the hell down and I was getting farted on by Tae.” 

You laughed, wholly impressed. “You’ve turned it into a verb now? Very creative. I’m so glad to have you as a best friend.” 

Although, she wasn’t so happy to have you as one when you confessed to telling Seokjin about his plethora of nicknames… 

.

.

Seokjin came home a little earlier than you’d expected. After lunch with Soo, you’d popped to the local grocery store, picking up a few things for dinner and then you’d sat in front of the television for the afternoon. It wasn’t the most productive day you’d had by any means, but you felt contented, excited to greet Seokjin after his long day at work. You were in the kitchen, beginning to prepare dinner when you heard his voice. 

“Honey?” Before you had time to reply, he was calling your name, closer down the hallway. “Y/N? Where are you?”

“Kitchen,” you called back. 

You weren’t looking when he entered, back to him, so suddenly you were engulfed in his arms from behind. He held your back to his chest tightly. “Hey,” he murmured, nestling into your neck. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” you said with a smile, holding his hands that were around your stomach. 

He shook his head, pressing his crotch to your ass. “No, I really missed you.” 

“Seokjin,” you hissed in surprise, feeling his erection instantly. You were getting déjà vu. Laughing, you wriggled around, facing him. He already had his tie loosened around his neck, the top two buttons of his shirt free. “Control yourself. You’ve literally just gotten through the door.” 

His facial expression looked immediately agonised. “I can’t. You’ve awakened the beast.” 

“The beast?” You snorted. 

He stared you down. “Yes.” And then he was on you, no time to return his kiss with just as much enthusiasm before he was at your neck, growling playfully. You fell into a fit of giggles, held prisoner by his hands pinned to your hips. “I was – distracted – all – day.” He informed you between tugs of your skin, tongue dutifully swiping where he’d bitten. He repeated. “Couldn’t stop thinking –  about you naked – and moaning my – name – while I ate your–”

“Seokjin!” you roared, heat instantly travelling up your face. You swore his mouth was getting dirtier by the hour. It made sense. He was teasing in nature… you just needed some time to get used to it. You would not let him finish that sentence for fear your legs would collapse beneath you. 

He broke away and leaned back, pupils so dark you could just about make out the brown of his irises. He panted slightly, lips wet. “Do you want to?” 

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Right here?” It didn’t practically look like he was about to sweep you up in his arms and dash you up to the bedroom if the urgent grinding of his crotch was anything to go by…

He grinned wolfishly, tilting his head. “Why not?”

“It’s not very sanitary.” You glanced to your left as you spoke, eyeing up the two bell peppers you’d placed on the counter five minutes before Seokjin and his penis had shown up… 

You watched in pure disbelief as Seokjin eased back and pulled a square foil packet out of his inner breast pocket. “Why? I have protection.” 

“What the hell?” You exclaimed. “Why do you have a condom with you?” He’d gone to work with that in his pocket? Attended meetings? Was he crazy? 

“It’s not what it looks like.” He chuckled, looking momentarily bashful. “I just thought… easy access. We never know when we’ll need one.” 

Folding your arms, you stared at him. Frustratingly you were unable to keep the corners of your lips from quirking up. “We’ll need one at your office?”

He shrugged casually, a smug smirk on his face. “Who knows. I’m a man of very many fantasies…” 

Oh, my god. Unbelievable. But you couldn’t pretend that his words weren’t having an effect on you, nor that the office fantasy didn’t sound hot… You stepped forward, hooking your fingers between his belt and slacks, pulling him forward – which was easy because he was caught off guard. “Enough small talk. Are you going to fuck me in your CEO suit, or what?”

He composed himself expertly, hands reaching for your waist as he leaned in. “First of all, hearing you curse will never not completely obliterate me, and second of all…” He paused to grin, so full of himself it was unbelievable. “You want me to fuck you in my suit?”

“Uh huh.” You nodded, tugging on his tie. 

And fuck you in his suit he did, spread on the counter, your tank top yanked down so he could watch your breasts bounce as he pounded into you…

You spent the Tuesday in his home office, making the most out of idle time to lesson plan for your new class come September. You facetimed Soojung (who tried her best to get you to give her a house tour) and then ended up sunbathing with a book for an hour or so outside. After Seokjin came home he called Arin, asking her what she’d been up to so far and if she was having fun. Despite how much he was enjoying your company you could tell he was missing his daughter, even if he didn’t explicitly tell you with words. You sympathised with him, it must have been weird not having her around. 

Unsure what to do for dinner, Seokjin suggested making a last minute dinner reservation. That sounded fine by you, too lazy to think of preparing something tonight, so off you went upstairs to get ready, but of course, Seokjin found ways of distracting you… (You were thirty minutes late for dinner.) 

The days were passing by quickly, and you could quite honestly say the week with Seokjin was bliss – and not just because of all of the sex. Although, it did play a very big role… It was the little things that meant the most, such as grocery shopping on the Wednesday afternoon. Generously, Seokjin had used two of his vacation days for the end of the week, saving the others he was due in the summer to spend with Arin for her birthday at the end of next month. He’d arrived home early on the Wednesday afternoon, informing you he would be making dinner tonight and as silly as it sounded, walking around the store while Seokjin pushed the cart was one of the sweetest activities you’d shared together. The domesticity of it made your whole day, but the pasta dish he prepared later that night almost ruined it. His seasoning quantities were a little off, shall we say, all those years out of practice, so it turned out he was a danger with those chilli flakes. However, the coughing fit you both had after the first bite made for great entertainment… You didn’t know whether you were crying with laughter or because your throat was on fire… 

The next day, as great as staying in bed and having sex all day sounded, Seokjin wanted to take you out and spend some time together as a couple. You were left to decide what you wanted to do, and of course you chose shopping. A new mall had recently opened up about an hour away and because you were so nervy on highways, you hadn’t had a chance to go yet. Seokjin was more than happy to take you, and kindly enough he did spoil you a bit that day. Usually you wouldn’t allow it (he’d tried it in the past), but there was no harm with once in a blue moon, was there? Besides, he got great use out of a few of the gifts too… One being the black skimpy laced lingerie he’d picked out… (The panties had an open crotch…) That evening you shared a bath and a bottle of champagne before you’d given him a very indulgent fashion show… 

On Friday, you prepared a picnic and went hiking, which left Seokjin with an incredibly (and comically) red nose even though he’d applied sunscreen. You spent the afternoon cuddling in front of the television, making the most out of your last day alone together. Truthfully, you felt a little sad at the prospect of tomorrow. You missed Arin too and couldn’t wait to see her but spending your days so intimately and lovingly with Seokjin had been amazing. You told him just as much gone midnight, wrapped up in his arms and bedsheets, head pressed against his sheened chest as you listened to his heartbeat slowly even out. This week had made you fall for him harder – if possible – and you were sad it was ending, but just so excited this was only the beginning… He kissed you long and hard, agreeing wholeheartedly, words unneeded. 

.

.

Arin was due back early afternoon, so you and Seokjin shared breakfast together before you packed up your things. He clung to you the entire time, sighing every time you folded up an item of clothing and placed it in your case. 

“How will I function without having sex with you every morning?” He bemoaned after one particularly loud unhappy exhale. 

“I’m sure you’ll manage,” you laughed. He was unbelievable. And whiney. But then again, so were you… 

Stood beside your car an hour later, saying your goodbyes, you hugged him tight. “I’m going to miss youuu.” How were you expected to sleep alone tonight?! It wasn’t fair. 

It was now Seokjin’s turn to chuckle at your ridiculousness. “I’m not going anywhere.” He assured, cupping the back of your head as you pulled back to look at him. His expression softened instantly. “But I feel the same.” Kissing your nose, he smiled. “You know that you can spend the night here anytime you want though, right?” 

You held out until Monday. You wanted to give Arin some time alone with Seokjin after her week away, you bet she’d missed her father like crazy, but apparently she’d missed you too… Seokjin called you while he was at work – his second call of the day. (His first had been at six o’clock this morning, waking you up to let you know he (and his dick) missed you.) Arin had asked him to ask you if you wanted to come over tonight for an impromptu movie night. You were touched to say the least. You let Seokjin know you’d  be there 6pm on the dot with snacks at hand. He told you to bring an overnight bag… 

Having sex with Arin under the same roof took some time to get used to. The first time was so hilarious looking back. It was 1am, time was ticking on and Seokjin had to be awake in under six hours, Arin was long asleep – and across the hall! Yet still you were both anxious fools, listening out for the slightest of noises just in case the unthinkable happened. Not that it would have, Seokjin knew Arin was a heavy sleeper so there was little chance of her barging in… but it still didn’t stop him from whispering “What was that?” every five minutes, eyes pulled wide like a deer caught in headlights. 

It definitely got easier though, and soon movie nights became a regular thing as the last weeks of summer rolled by. You had a routine; one movie of Arin’s choice and then it was her bedtime, and then if Seokjin and you felt like it, you’d choose a movie yourselves to watch. Tonight was a Saturday, so after Enchanted had finished and Seokjin put Arin to bed, you decided to watch something too seeing as he didn’t have work the next morning.

Halfway in, however, you were getting distracted… Your hand sneaking inside the blanket you had wrapped around the both of you to run up and down Seokjin’s thigh. This week had been an odd one. Your boyfriend had been super busy with work and you’d missed him – obviously. You’d done well to keep your hands off him for this long, now you were finally caving…

“I guess this movie is boring?” Seokjin whispered into the darkness, face lit up with a blue glow. His eyes sparkled as your gazes met, your palm hovering over his crotch. He lifted his hips a touch, brushing against you. 

“No,” you grinned, leaning in to kiss him. “You’re just more interesting…” 

He chuckled against your lips. “I definitely agree with that.” 

Groaning, you went to lift your hand away but he snatched it back, pressing you into him, encouraging you to rub. With your tongues entwined, you soon felt his erection stirring, cock stiffening under his sweats. 

It was a wonder you both heard the creak of the wooden floorboards in the hallway – but thankfully you did. Movements stilling, you pulled back. Eyes wide in question, you mouthed, “What was that?”

You both listened out for another noise, hearing the tell-tale sound of footsteps walking towards the movie room. “Arin,” Seokjin breathed, and just like that the moment was over. You broke apart, Seokjin rearranging his junk expertly (a round of applause) before he stood up. 

On cue, a tiny voice sounded from behind the door. “Daddy?”

“Arin, sweetie, what is it?” He asked, walking over to pull it open. 

Arin was stood there, looking perfectly wide awake hugging her rabbit plush. “I can’t get to sleep.” 

“And why’s that?” Seokjin asked. 

She ignored him completely, walking into the room. “What are you watching?”

“A grown-ups movie,” he replied, sounding amused. “Come on, let me take you back upstairs. Say goodnight to Y/N again.” 

Arin whined loudly, turning to her dad. “But I can’t sleeeep!” 

“Maybe she can stay up for a little while?” You suggested, looking over at Seokjin before you turned your attention to Arin. “Until you’re tired, hm, Arin?”

Her face lit up immediately. “I think that’s a great idea, Y/N.” 

You laughed and Seokjin wasn’t close behind, bending down to squeeze Arin’s sides, playfully causing her to squeal. “Do you, little miss?” You met Seokjin’s gaze, both of you coming to terms with the fact your moment had been well and truly ruined. It was fine… You had later on tonight… 

“It’s the weekend, she can stay up a little later than normal, no?” You asked with a smile. 

“Fine,” he mock sighed, pretending to only give in right now. 

Arin cheered in victory, rushing over to sit next to you on the sofa, cuddling in immediately. She had gotten what she’d came downstairs for. You wrapped your arm around her shoulders, an action that had become more than normal these past couple of weeks. The more time you spent here, the closer you had become. You were no longer the teacher who had started dating her father. You were now his girlfriend, someone she saw regularly, someone she could laugh and joke around with. Someone she felt comfortable around, and vice versa. You were Y/N. Just as your relationship with Seokjin was growing and developing on the daily, so was your relationship with Arin. And you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Arin looked up at her father and grinned. “Can we watch another Disney movie, Daddy?” 

.

.

As it happened, Arin didn’t last an hour before she was fast asleep between you both, softly snoring, her bunny fallen forgotten to her side. Deciding to head upstairs too, you followed Seokjin as he carried her to her room, stopping by the entrance to watch him lay her down and place a soft kiss to her forehead. You smiled to yourself, warmth flooding your chest at the touching scene in front of you before you both headed off for Seokjin’s room and began getting ready for bed. 

Seokjin was lying on top of the mattress when you exited the bathroom, knowing you’d left your pyjamas in the closet somewhere. Only, the sight of him sprawled out in baggy shorts and a t-shirt, so casually sexy, had you suddenly distracted. In just your underwear, you viewed him from the end of the bedframe. “Where were we earlier?”

He groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “I don’t know, I think I’m in a Disney Princess coma.” 

Chuckling, you placed a knee on the bed. “You enjoyed yourself really.” Then your hands. Then your other knee. Slowly crawling towards him. “Do you want to enjoy yourself now?”

He immediately sat up, back against the headboard, his eyes falling to your cleavage. He smirked softly. “That sounds like an offer I can’t refuse.” 

Ten minutes later you had him in your mouth, knelt to his side, ass facing him as he rubbed and massaged the flesh to his heart’s content. “You’re so good at this,” he praised, his fingers slipping into the side of your underwear teasingly. You sucked him deeper. “Fuck. So good. Baby, let me make you feel good too.” He removed his fingers and ran them along your ass, stopping at your entrance to rub. You were soaked through, could feel it yourself. He moaned. Either because of your tongue or because of what he felt. Maybe both. “So wet and you’re only sucking my cock.”  

You slid your mouth off of him, running your fist up and down the solid and slippery length instead. He jerked his hips into your touch, chasing the pleasure. “Quit inflating your ego,” you quipped. 

He chuckled, turning to his side as his fingers moved up to the waistband of your underwear. “Mm. Like this?” 

You got the message loud and clear, letting him slide the fabric down your ass before settling down on your side too. You ran your fist over the tip of him as he rid you of your underwear altogether, wrapping his arms around your hips to angle your heat towards his mouth. You wriggled as you felt the first press of his tongue, earning you a quick, playful smack to the ass and after that you let him hold you tight, the tip of his tongue digging between your folds to flick against your clit. 

You leaned forward, wanting to return the favour, and sucked him back into your mouth, the angle now making it easier to slip him deeper. You’d never done something like this together before, which was surprising in itself considering the sheer amount of times you’d been unable to keep your hands off each other these past three weeks. It was so erotic hearing him groan against you as he continued to pleasure you, your own moans vibrating down his cock as you both grew more eager, lost in the feeling. 

He came first. It probably had something to do with the way you massaged his balls, concentrating on sucking the tip of him as his hips grew impatient and he began rocking into you. He moaned your name, mouth faltering, and all he could do was grip your ass tight as he felt his orgasm take over, grunting as you swallowed each drop. 

“I win,” you gleed softly, pulling away from him to kiss down his softening length. 

“Of course you do,” he murmured, sounding fucked out. “Fuck, I needed that.” Rolling onto his back, he ran his hands down your thighs. “Come here, let me kiss you.” 

Moving to straddle him, you leaned in and kissed him hungrily, still very much horny, and tasting yourself on his lips didn’t help matters. His hands cupped your bare ass, spreading it slightly so he could run his fingers along your lips, so wet he was sinking in before he could realise. 

You moaned, rocking into him and he cursed softly, pushing his head back into the pillows. He tugged you forward. “This way,” he got out, panting slightly, out of breath from the way you’d kissed him. You understood from the way he was lifting you up where this was going…

Moving up his body, your thighs were soon either side of his head. He wasted no time in lunging forward, mouth picking up where he left off. You held on to the headboard, careful not to press your entire body weight into him for fear of suffocating him. Not that he would mind, you thought… He was all over you, licking and kissing wherever he could reach, hellbent on tasting every inch of you, humming in enjoyment the entire time as you panted. 

You kept your eyes on him, one of your hands moving to caress his hair, pushing it out of his eyes, his forehead on show as well as those deadly eyebrows of his, currently furrowed in determination. When his dark eyes flickered up to your face, you shuddered, moaning loudly. He loved it. It set him off. 

“I love the way you taste so much,” he praised, pulling back to rub his thumb over your clit. You bucked into him, fluttering when he kissed the spot lovingly. “That right then,” he almost rasped. “It’s been a fantasy of mine for a while.” 

In other circumstances you’d 100% shoot a witty comeback his way, but not now – definitely not now.  Not when he was slipping two fingers inside of you right this instant. You were soon rubbing your hips into his face like a woman possessed, needing to feel his tongue again as you choked out a few extra moans. 

“Honey, that’s it,” he encouraged with a long groan. “Ride me a little. You have no idea how much this turns me on. I could get hard all over again.” 

Moaning, turned on by his words, you listened, relief flooding you when you felt the warmth of his tongue against your clit. You moved like you usually did when he had you spread on your back, grinding against his tongue, only this time you had a lot more control – and he seemed to love it, free hand digging into the side of your ass, the other dragging against your walls, making you tremble. With one hand clutching the headboard, the other in his hair you used the leverage to rock against him, the squelchy wet noises fuelling you further, until you were panting and out of breath, unable to take much more. 

You lifted your hips a little, feeling your legs tremble like jello, and let Seokjin kiss the inside of your thighs, his fingers now shallowly fucking you as you attempted to catch your breath. “I love how wet and warm and soft you are,” he groaned. His lips brushed past your clit, breath fanning over you. “You really have the most amazing pussy.” 

“Seokjinn,” you moaned, unable to stop from jerking against his face again. His mouth would be the death of you. He latched his lips against your clit, sucking the bud gently into his mouth over and over again. You were done for, sighs of pleasure rolling out of you as you stared down at him. 

“Mmm, baby? You gonna cum?” He asked, stroking your walls deeper, pressing and curling as he went. You nodded, incoherent noises all you could manage as your thighs tightened. “All over my face?” He prompted. 

You didn’t need much encouraging. 

It was inevitable the need for condoms would become unnecessary soon enough. Which was a shame really, given Seokjin’s bargain hunting, but it wasn’t long before they became a bind – inconvenient, more so. That, and you wanted nothing more than to feel Seokjin bare inside of you, to be as close as physically possible, and nothing could be as close to feeling him come inside you. It had been a while since you’d been on birth control, years obviously, but highly organised and a bit of a control freak, you’d be damned if you ever forgot to pop that pill every goddam day. 

The first time without a condom had been mind-blowing. You were under the impression sex with Seokjin couldn’t get better than it already was, but you were wrong – very wrong. You were home alone, Arin staying with her mom for the night and you were taking full advantage of the opportunity. Who needed dinner at a time like this? But Seokjin (who had now become reacquainted with his culinary skills) insisted on preparing a candlelit meal. It was almost reminiscent of your first time together entirely, Seokjin keen and eager to pull out all the stops, and you teased him to no end. Was coming inside you for the first time really that big of an occasion? His reply: Yes. Very much so yes. 

Not an hour later, half your plates still full and too excited for no more than ten minutes of foreplay, you were both naked, sweaty and way beyond control. The bedsheets were rumpled, barely hanging onto the bed as you rolled around, the pungent smell of sex in the air, and in hindsight, you should’ve knocked the aircon on… 

Not that you had time to think right now. You’d successfully gotten him onto his back, riding him into submission until all he could do was hold onto your breasts and meet each bounce with a roll of his hips. You clutched him to you, hands over his own as you concentrated on the burning pleasure travelling up your body. It had been a couple of weeks since the last time you’d been able to fuck with such abandon. Arin was obviously home 90% of the time and on the odd occasional Seokjin spent the night at your place, Soojung was there (maybe even Tae too), her bedroom right next to yours. 

Seokjin’s hands soon found their way clamped to your hips, pushing you back a little so he could see himself as he thrust up into you. You cried out, the sound of his skin thudding against yours telling you just how hard and fast he was pounding into you. His eyes were glued to where your bodies met and he could see perfectly just how well you were soaking his dick, just how good you were taking it, stretching over his girth. 

“I’m close,” he panted, hips stuttering. He slowed his pace, but kept the pressure, his cock getting deeper. You held on tightly to his thighs, anchoring yourself, your walls clamping down around him. He groaned, feeling every minute sensation without the latex barrier. “I’m so fucking close. Can’t wait to cum inside you.” 

You moaned in response, holding eye contact with him, your face contorted with pleasure, and that seemed to set him off, your pants and sighs of pleasure happening in unison as he sped up one last time, ready to fill you with his cum. The veins in his neck burst as he grunted and his cock twitched, flesh scorching. He fucked you through each wave of his orgasm, holding you still, your body jerking with the force. In the back of your mind you realised come tomorrow morning you’d be sore as hell, but honestly, who cared? 

Carried away, no longer able to think straight, his cock fell out of you with one awry thrust. He was growing flaccid anyway, sensitive, so it was impossible trying to push back inside of you. Which was sad because you were still a mess, warm with his cum and desperate for more relief. You plopped down on his thighs, your breasts rising up and down with each laboured breath and then Seokjin’s eyes caught something. Something seeping out of your body… 

“Fuck.” He half moaned in amazement. “It’s dripping out.” 

After that you didn’t have a moment to think. You were flat on your back before you could truly process his words, his fingertips circling your swollen entrance, smearing his cum in the process. You pulsed in anticipation, body greedy, and he gave it to you swiftly, plunging two fingers inside you. You moaned on impact, feet planted to the mattress as he started snapping his wrist, pushing his cum back into you. 

“Baby, you drive me crazy.” He husked, sounding positively tormented. “Look so pretty with my cum inside you.” All you could do was moan in reply, walls squeezing around his digits as he coaxed you to orgasm. “I can feel it,” he grunted, pressing his body into yours, his mouth chasing for a kiss. Your tongues meshed together urgently, kiss sloppy, done in haste. 

“Seokjinn…” Your voice was a whine and you clutched at his shoulders, closing your eyes when you felt his lips trail down your chin, moving southward, towards the valley of your breasts. 

He growled as your body jerked, his tongue swirling around one of your hard nipples. “You’ve started something now. I’m gonna have to cum in you every single day.” 

You were on fire. His words affecting you in ways you didn’t think were possible. “Don’t s-stop,” you implored, although if anything, he was snapping his wrist even faster now, fingers curved, hitting right where you needed. You moaned loudly. “You always make me feel so good. Mm. I’m-I’m… Fuck.” 

Grunting, your curse ruining him, he made his way back to your mouth. You held him tightly, back stuck to the bed with sweat. “Cum, baby.” He told you. “Please.” 

That sent you over the edge, waves of pleasure rocking your body and he swallowed each one of your moans greedily, his fingers gradually slowing, easing you through your orgasm until he slid out. He pulled back with a drunken grin. “You’re so sexy.” Then he looked down your naked body, sighing in wonder. “God, you’re amazing.” 

“Quit it!” You exclaimed with a laugh, whacking his shoulder. Still very much out of breath. 

Summer continued to fly by, not long left now until you were back at school. As much as the prospect excited you, you couldn’t help but feel a little dejected. Having so much time off had worked out perfectly for your relationship with Seokjin, because even though he was still very much busy with work, you had all the free time in the world to match his schedule. It made you sad to realise there would be no more lunch dates. No more impromptu midweek movie nights. Actually, thinking about it, staying over during the weekday would probably be pretty impossible too – with all the lessons you’d have to plan and the work you’d need to score. In fact, you were about to be a hell of a lot busier from September onwards. 

Seokjin reassured you as best he could. You’d fall into routine soon enough and things would work out. You could still meet up for lunch – he’d drive over and you’d eat in his car if needed, and you could still spend the night on a weekday. He’d wait patiently while you finished up work, make you dinner and then make sure you were asleep by 10pm. You appreciated the sentiment, he always did know how to cheer you up. Although his “Think of it this way, you left school single and now you’re going back with an incredibly kind and insanely sexy boyfriend. I’d call yourself lucky, if I was you.” wasn’t as treasured… He thought he was funny, but he wasn’t at all…

Still, you had two weeks left to go, there was no point being miserable over the inevitable. You’d had the best summer of your life, you were lucky. (Just not in the way Seokjin had implied…)

.

.

“I can’t wait to take this off you tonight,” Seokjin murmured against your ear as he zipped the back of your dress up, insinuation deep in his tone. 

Turning around to face him, you placed your hands on his shoulders. “We can always skip tonight and go straight to the sex.” 

Laughing heartily, he tapped your ass. “Nice try. There’s nothing to be nervous about, okay?” He ignored your grumbling and stepped away, reaching for his cufflinks on the bedside table. “It’s just a dinner, honey.” 

“With a bunch of the country’s richest people,” you exclaimed, feeling sick all over again. Every few months or so Seokjin had dinner with a few of his colleagues. They brought their partners along, and this time Seokjin was ecstatic you would be joining him. You on the other hand were this close to hyperventilating. 

“That’s a small exaggeration,” Seokjin scoffed, cufflinks now attached as he made his way back to you. He cupped your waist, tilting his head to the side with a smile. “Besides, your boyfriend is included in that bunch. Are you nervous around me to?”

“Shut it,” you muttered, reaching to straighten his bow tie. He looked amazing in his suit tonight, hair parted to the side. Skipping dinner seemed like an excellent idea… But when he leaned in to kiss you sweetly, you knew you couldn’t. Seokjin was looking forward to “showing you off.” (His exact words.) I’m not a trophy, you’d shot back, but of course you knew he hadn’t meant it like that. It was sweet actually. He was proud. And happy. And cute. 

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you hugged him close. He nosed your neck, humming happily before nipping a patch of skin with his teeth, growling playfully. “Seriously, I can’t wait to rip this dress off you.” 

You squealed as he began to tickle your sides, trying to push him away. “Stop, you’ll crease it.” 

“It’s fine,” he reassured, easing up to gaze at you. “You’ll still look stunning. Always do.” The black floor-length dress you were in was nothing you were used to, and maybe that’s why your nerves were worse than what they should be but knowing Seokjin liked what he saw helped ease your reservations. How could it not? He always made you feel like a million dollars. 

He was looking forward to tonight, so you should try to as well… You had nothing to worry about. 

.

.

You really didn’t. 

The night was a success. Despite your lives being vastly different, you got along with Seokjin’s colleagues well. They seemed like lovely people, especially the wife of Seokjin’s CFO. She was around your age, a couple of years older maybe, and you bonded over your favourite book series like a pair of nerds. You both left with a recommended reading list saved into your phones, numbers exchanged with plans of encouraging one another to read more. Seokjin was delighted you’d enjoyed yourself so much and you spent the chauffeured car journey to your place talking about the night. 

Although, as soon as you got inside was an entirely different story altogether. It had already been pre-decided that Seokjin would spend the night with you, Misook babysitting Arin at his home, and you soon realised that he had not been messing around when he’d informed you he was going to rip the dress off you. You weren’t even up the stairs before he was attempting to unzip you, bumping his crotch into your ass with every step as he kissed your neck, blowing raspberries as he went. 

“Shhh. Shush,” you giggled, trying your best to whisper successfully. “They may be still awake.” You knew Taehyung was staying over tonight too, he’d been here spread out on the couch before you’d left for Seokjin’s place this afternoon. 

“Better get you to your room quickly then.” He said confidently, pouncing on you at the top step as he wrapped his arms around your middle. 

You bit back a squeal, shoving your foot into his shin. “Seokjin!” 

In the privacy of your bedroom, you shut the door tight, turning back to see your boyfriend already stripping out of his tux jacket. He didn’t have shoes on either and as you looked around for them, spotting nothing, you realised he must have kicked them off back downstairs. When?! He reached for you, running his hands down your curves before they settled on your ass. He looked at you as if he wanted to eat you. Your stomach stirred, only now realising exactly where tonight was heading. He really hadn’t been bluffing… 

“Did I tell you how stunning you looked tonight?” He asked, popping his bowtie off and unbuttoning his shirt halfway. His collarbones sharp enough to cut, the outline of his chest clear enough to make you dribble. 

You chuckled, although you could hear the aroused tremble so obviously. “You may have mentioned it once or twice.” 

He smiled your way, although it was more like a smirk, and stalked towards you. “Turn around.” 

You obeyed in an instant. His fingers reaching for the zip of your dress. It was already halfway down – something you hadn’t realised. (He was obviously somewhat success back in the hallway.) As he revealed the expanse of your back he kissed the nape of your neck, gently pushing the straps over your shoulders to let the fabric slide down. With an expert snap he had your bra loose, removing that too, and it fell to the floor in front of you, hands reaching forward to cup your breasts, fingertips pinching your nipples. You moaned, disappointed when he moved, but then he started mouthing down your spine as he helped the dress along, surprising you when he crouched down, and then inevitably got on his knees, pushing the garment past your hips. He groaned when he saw your thong, lips parting to caress you with his tongue. 

“You have the most perfect ass,” he gruffed against the skin, giving you a squeeze. “Have I ever told you that? Could worship it all night.” 

Please, you wanted to murmur, but you held back, biting down on your lip as you felt him sink his teeth into one of your ass cheeks. What was with him tonight? You could already feel your arousal collecting between the small band of your panties. It wasn’t going to hold for long. 

“Let’s get you out of this dress.” Despite his casual tone, he tugged the garment harshly, causing you to stumble at the sudden movement. 

“Seokjin!” You chided lightly, clutching onto one of his hands now at your hip. “I still have my heels on, could’ve broken my ankle.” 

“I was here to keep you safe,” he assured you with a chuckle, and then as an afterthought, “Maybe you could keep them on while we…” 

You bumped your butt into his face, silently telling him to shut it, and kicked the footwear off, now able to remove your dress easily. Seokjin stood, spinning you to face him, mouth pressing into yours with haste. He kissed you passionately, wrapping his arms around you, holding you to him, your breasts pushed up against his chest. He was still clothed, but you could feel his erection pressing into your stomach. You wanted to touch it, but your hands were too busy caught up in his hair. 

“Bed,” he panted up against your mouth, practically lifting you up to push you down on the mattress. You settled on your elbows, watching him as he tore open the rest of his shirt buttons, throwing the item to the floor, his well-defined torso now on full display. 

He pounced on you, kissing you hungrily once more, so hungrily in fact, you needed to pull away to catch your breath. He moved to your cheek, wet kisses finding their way to your ear. Sensitive, you had to push him away with a hand to the chest. “Sorry, am I being too much?” He murmured, lips sticky. 

You shook your head with a shaky giggle. “I just can’t keep up.” 

“Just lay back and enjoy, baby.” His tone was reassuring, encouraging, and insanely sexy. He lifted your hips, scooting you up the bed to rest your head on the pillows. “Can you do that for me?” 

“Of course.” You watched him raise up on his knees, the clank of his belt making you pulse down below as he undid it. He unzipped his pants but made no effort to take them off, running his palm once along the curve of his length before he crawled over you. He placed a sweet kiss to your mouth, smiling as he pulled away. “Did you notice I didn’t go for dessert tonight?” Puzzled, you stayed silent waiting for him to explain. His smile widened, more of a grin now – a very amused one at that. “I was saving myself for something tastier.” 

You scoffed. He was unbelievable, but it was easy to let him get away with such corny lines. Especially when he had you spread out near naked on your own bed. “Lame!” You exclaimed, immediately clamping your hand across your mouth. You needed to remember to keep quiet, Soojung and Taehyung were asleep next door, but you were feeling uncharacteristically unbothered tonight, too eager and excited.  

He chuckled at your silliness. “Y/N, I’m pretty sure you’ve heard them have sex before. Think of it as payback.” 

His nonchalance was pretty attractive so you let his words ease your mind. Although maybe it had more to do with the way he was trailing kisses down your stomach… He leaned back to spread your legs, already bent at the knee. You were pretty sure your thong was doing nothing to protect your modesty anymore.  

He confirmed your assumption with a sharp intake of breath. “Honey, you’re soaking. I haven’t even done anything yet.” You braced yourself, waiting to feel the brush of his finger, but instead it was the softness of his tongue. He licked a strip up your clothed mound, a noise of delight rumbling from him. You pulsed uncontrollably, eager for more. 

He gave it to you. Lips wrapping around your hidden clit, tongue laving, soaking the delicate material even more. Your legs instantly squeezed around his head, unsure what to do with the sudden influx of pleasure before you moaned, rocking your hips into him gently. 

He eased away slightly, replacing his tongue with his thumb, rubbing skilled circles that caused you to squelch. “Love your pussy so much,” he murmured, going back for more hastily. 

You moaned again at his words, fingers digging into the sheets beneath you, but it wasn’t long before he was kissing back up your stomach, mouth now attaching itself to one your nipples. Your hands flew to the back of his head, looking down at him as he flicked the bud with his tongue, moaning as he did so. It was such an erotic sight you felt speechless, and when his chocolatey brown eyes met yours, pooling with desire, you felt beside yourself. 

“Turn around.” He whispered, roughly. “On your knees for me?” 

You had never listened so fast in all your life, scrabbling on your hands and knees in record time. You waited as patiently as you could, ass in the air, anticipating his next move. You startled when you felt a puff of air against your entrance, the sound of Seokjin’s sticky lips loud in your ears. “You look so good in this thong,” he praised, snapping the thin line of fabric between your ass. 

Pushing into him, you smirked. “I wore it just for you.” 

He hummed – in contemplation almost – before he pulled your panties to the side and dove straight in with his mouth. You yelped, ducking your head at your volume. You’d been expecting him to go straight to the sex, not continue to eat you out. He’d never done it in this position before – it felt amazing. A noise dragged from his throat as he pulled away, fingers dipping under the sides of your panties to drag them over your ass impatiently. As he did so, he bit into your ass, his hands now spreading your thighs, exposing you more so he could bury his face between your legs. 

You held your breath, waiting for him to continue but nothing could prepare you for the pleasure he was about to inflict on you. He flicked his tongue out against your clit, nose and mouth pressed flush against your heat, hands rooted to your ass and you moaned right away, bucking into him instinctively. Unable to hit your clit as well as he usually could he slid his mouth along your slit, tongue beginning to lick at your entrance, sucking your inner lips gently into his mouth as he did so. You were soaking, could feel yourself starting to drip down the inside of your thighs, but Seokjin didn’t seem to have a care in the world, lapping you up as if he was a man dying of thirst, rough moans letting you know just how much he was enjoying himself – enjoying you. 

When you felt his tongue push inside you, you jolted, sensation instantly making your thighs squeeze together. Not that they could with Seokjin hunched between them. He began to experimentally push in and out of you, noticing the way you tensed around him and hearing the way your breathing got shallower. Wordlessly, his hand reached forward, around your thigh to hook between your legs and start rubbing your clit with his fingers. With his other hand he gently (but firmly) pushed down at the small of your back, your ass rising higher, giving him better access to keep fucking you with his tongue. With the added stimulus you could feel yourself breaking, knees trembling, pushed hard against the mattress. He felt so warm, and wet, and just incredible. Your moans got more frequent, heartbeat pounding in your ears. 

“That feels so good.” You managed to choke out, your orgasm so close you could taste it. That’s usually when you gabbled. “Right there. Don’t stop!” He listened, speeding up his movements, the squelch getting louder as he grunted in exertion. He sounded so hot it just turned you on even more, and you lifted your ass higher, pushing into each thrust of his tongue. He rubbed your clit desperately, determined to push you ever the edge. 

You gasped, unsure how else to stay quiet as more words rushed out of you. “Seokjin–! I’m going to– Oh, my god, I’m coming!” Burying your face into the pillows your moans turned muffled as you came, white hot pleasure bursting through your veins. So sated, you couldn’t even find it in you to feel embarrassed with how loud he’d just made you orgasm. 

His finger moved away first, clit pulsing against nothing as he massaged the round of your ass instead, coating you in your own arousal, before his tongue eased off, placing a delicate kiss to your entrance as a goodbye. 

The mattress shifted under his weight as he moved back a couple of inches and you heard him slide his belt out of the trouser loops, the sound flying straight to your core. He stripped behind you quickly, you couldn’t even bring yourself to take a peek, too dazed, yet your imagination worked quite well. Instead, you kept kneeling for him, waiting for his return. 

He wasn’t even a minute. You felt the warmth of his dick press against the small of your back as he made his way closer once again. 

“Are you ready for me?” Despite the deepness of his voice – how obviously he was affected – you could hear the care in his tone as he checked in on you.  

“So ready,” you insisted, jutting into his thighs. 

He chuckled, pushing his dick between your legs now, sliding it across your slit. You were still sensitive, squirming against him, but you were also still so greedy, so you let him do what he wanted, soaking his cock along your wetness unhurriedly. You were so distracted by his movements, the smack he suddenly landed on your ass had you yelping more so from shock than sting. If you weren’t so drunk with pleasure right now you’d chew him out for being so loud. 

“Did that hurt?” He asked curiously, voice dripping danger. You felt your gut squeeze. That was new. He’d slapped your ass before but never with that much intent. The sting melted into your skin as he massaged the spot. “Mm, baby?” He pressed, voice now dripping honey. “Do you like pain?” He spanked you again but this time you were ready, biting down on your lip. “Like it when I’m mean to you?” 

You nodded, some type of agreeing noise leaving your throat which seemed to appease him. He rubbed your ass soothingly, the head of his cock now dragging across your entrance. How he had this much patience was beyond you. You could not relate. 

“Quit teasing.” You whined. Put it in me.” 

“Don’t be a brat, honey.” He chuckled, but he pushed ever so slightly into you. He let out a sharp exhale, starting to fuck you shallowly with the tip, hands at his sides. You squeezed around nothing, flinging your head back frustratingly. “Seokjin!” You wanted him to fuck you. And touch you. 

Chuckling again, throatily, he pushed an inch deeper. He wasn’t even halfway inside of you. “I want to antagonise myself. Shush.” But he gripped your ass, pulling you apart slightly to slowly push inside of you all the way. You both groaned with the drag, taking a breather as you squeezed around him, getting used to the feeling. You always felt so full in this position, trembling around his crazy big dick. 

Soon he began to move, sliding in and out of you with intense concentration. You couldn’t see him but you knew his gaze was welded to where your bodies met, watching himself disappear inside you over and over again. “You’re the tease, Y/N,” he murmured,  picking up the pace. You could hear yourself squelching around his girth. “You drive me fucking crazy.” He felt you pulse and his breath hitched. 

Bunching the meat of your ass in his fists, he pounded into you for a few moments, holding you still, making you take it. You whimpered, trying your best to stay quiet. “Always take my cock so well. Don’t you, baby?” 

“Ye-ess.” Your voice broke, a moan tearing through you as he rammed himself deep inside , stopping dead. “Fuck, Seokjin.” You were burning up. You needed him to move before you sobbed. 

With precision, he started fucking you slowly, bottoming out each time, revelling in your warmth, your wetness. It was so intense your eyes started to water, trying your best to stay as silent as possible but each breath was sounding more and more like a moan. You could hear yourself squelching around him every time he moved. So could he. 

“I love that,” he said, voice tight, as if he was trying his best to keep calm. “I’m gonna cum so deep in you tonight. Fill you up good.” 

You moaned loudly this time. It was always hot to hear your well-spoken boyfriend fall off into the deep end, articulation deteriorating with each thrust. It turned you on like no tomorrow. “Please do,” you urged, walls clamping around him at the very thought. 

He lost it at that, begging with your words and your body, and it wasn’t long before his movements were speeding up, his hips snapping against your ass as he held it tight. “Can you cum again?” He sounded frantic. 

“M-maybe – oh.” You jolted, feeling Seokjin’s fingers at your clit.  

“I really want you to cum again for me.” His fingers became persistent, rubbing circles against your sensitivity. 

Holding your breath, you concentrated. On each thrust, how good his dick was, how the motions on your clit felt. Everything… You willed your second orgasm, feeling it start to be pulled out of you. You started to meet each of his thrusts, skin slapping as your sweaty bodies worked together. “Yes, yes, yes, yes–!” You urged with each thud, so close you were trembling. Your voice broke as the sensation took over, moan turning into a squeak as you tried to shut up. 

This time your orgasm was shorter, but it didn’t make it any less intense. In fact, it immediately exhausted you. “Shit. Fuck.” You mumbled, pretty much collapsing into the bed, Seokjin wedged deep inside you. 

“You feel different.” He groaned. You felt him twitch. “Love that feeling.” Ever so carefully, he drew back, hands gliding along your back. “I’m okay to finish?” 

“Yes,” you nodded, turning to press your cheek to the pillow. You jutted your ass out, feeling him slide back in almost involuntarily, your tightness calling him back. “Be quick though.” You were tired – and sensitive. Still horny though…

He found that amusing, chuckling throatily. “I promise you I will. I’m so fucking close.” He pulled back again, grunting. He was taking his time, easing you into it. “Ngh. I’m almost too big for you now. You’re squeezing so much.” 

You moaned in reply, loving the way he held your hips firm and rolled into you, slowly fucking you into the mattress. 

“Tell me how much you’re loving it,” he pretty much pleaded, ever so slightly speeding up. 

“I love it so much.” You professed. “You have n-no idea.” You jerked forward as he hit deep, crying out. “Seokjinn! Please. Go a little faster.” 

He grunted, sounding smug. “You want my cum.” You moaned in reply. “Say it for me.” He demanded. “Please, baby, say it for me.” 

“I want your cum,” you moaned. 

And that was enough. With a strangled cry he began to snap his hips faster and faster, fucking you hard, chasing his end. It didn’t take long. A minute later he rammed himself deep, stiffening as he came inside you, groan of relief loud as all the tension left his body. “Shit.” He muttered, collapsing on top of you, careful not to press his full body weight into you. 

He held your shoulders, nuzzling into you as he slid to your side. You used what was left of your energy to turn around, letting him smother you with kisses. “That was… I don’t know what came over me.” He exclaimed. 

“It was amazing,” you gushed, running a hand down his sticky chest. You could spot your arousal, now dried to his face, his hairline damp with perspiration. You leaned in for a kiss, pulling back when he began to laugh. You looked at him puzzled. 

“You want my cum,” he gleed.

“Get lost!” You groaned, pushing him away. He rolled onto his back, his chest still rising visibly as he caught his breath. 

“I need the bathroom,” he announced, standing and looking around. “My bag? I thought Misook said she dropped it off for me?” 

Sitting up, you glanced around. “Maybe Soo left it downstairs.” She’d probably thought you’d spot it by the door when you arrived home. You’d been too distracted… “Wear my robe.” You suggested. 

“That?” Seokjin questioned, looking sceptically at the pink fluffy nightgown hooked onto your closet door. 

“Why not? You’ll look cute.” 

“True,” he agreed, turning to reach for it.

“Nice ass.” You had a great view from here. 

“Hey,” he whined, throwing the robe on quickly to hide his modesty. 

“What, you have a really nice ass for a forty year old!” You insisted. 

He clicked his tongue. “Now that’s just rude.” 

You giggled as he left, calling out a not very believable sorry after him. A few minutes later you heard Soojung’s door open, footsteps in the hallway and then, voices. Taehyung and Seokjin’s. They’d bumped into each other. You laughed to yourself, imagining how awkward it must be for them right now. Amazing. Twenty seconds later Seokjin and your fluffy robe were shooting through the door. 

“Oh, my god.” Seokjin grimaced. “That was so awkward. Taehyung wanted the bathroom as I was leaving.” 

“I heard,” you chuckled, amused by your boyfriend’s unnecessary mortification. 

He laid on the bed, groaning. “We had to small talk. He was in his boxers… I think he knew we’d just had sex.” 

“Yeah, he probably heard us too…” 

Seokjin made a noise of discomfort. He wasn’t so sure of himself now, was he? You rolled your eyes and reached for him, gathering the collar of your gown in your hands to kiss him. You grinned. “You look really sexy in my pink fluffy gown.” 

He hummed against your mouth, “I know, right?” He didn’t need persuading when you pulled him over you, untying the middle of the robe before pushing the fluffy garment over his broad shoulders. His dick was soft, but he was eager if the way he kissed you was anything to go by. It made you feel guilty when you inevitably pushed him away, robe victoriously clutched in your arms. 

“Where are you going?” He whined, watching you stand. 

You slipped into the nightgown, smiling cutely. “I need to pee.” 

.

.

When you woke up the next morning there was a text waiting for you from your beloved best friend… 

Soojung (08:12am) Tae just told me he woke up and heard you guys having s e x last night  Then he bumped into Seokjin who was wearing ur robe  I’m glad I’m a heavy sleeper  But he said it sounded like you were having a GREAT time 😏  Dilf got movesss 😳

The embarrassment! 

Today was a very important day, according to one little person. Arin’s seventh birthday. She’d mentioned it almost every single day since August had arrived. Seokjin had worked really hard organising her a garden party, inviting all their family and friends, including a couple of her friends from school. You were a bit nervous about that, knowing you’d be met with a few curious questions but there were more pressing issues at hand... You were about to meet Seokjin’s parents for the first time. (As well as numerous other members of his family, but a girl could only worry about so many things at once.) 

He’d already met your family a couple of weeks previous – joining you for lunch with your mom one afternoon and then accompanying you for dinner at your father’s house a few days later. Seokjin had taken it in his stride, so even if he was a little nervous he never once showed it. He was good at that, you admired him for that. You on the other hand were this close to breaking out into a nervous sweat. 

You were thankful Arin had you preoccupied all morning, insisting on helping Misook and you put up the decorations for her own birthday party. Helpful as always, although be it a little buzzed. Scrap that, a lot buzzed. She was still on a high from celebrating her birthday with her mom for a couple of days. She’s only gotten back yesterday afternoon, and that’s when Seokjin had surprised her with two pet rabbits – one snowy white, the other midnight black. Her excitement levels were through the roof today. Seokjin had called you this morning informing you he’d been woken up at 5am and he needed your assistance ASAP because he couldn’t handle a hyperactive birthday girl all on his own the entirety of the morning… 

By 1pm some of the guest had already started arriving; Seokjin’s brother and his wife, along with their two twin boys who were a couple of years younger than Arin. Aunts and uncles, and a few cousins, Seokjin’s friend Namjoon, who had two children; a 9 year-old daughter and a four year-old son, and then a few of Arin’s friends, some from various clubs she attended and two you recognised from school. They recognised you too of course, and you overheard Arin adorably telling them that you were her “daddy’s girlfriend.” No matter how much time past, and no matter how natural this all felt now, you were still so happy that Arin was on board with all this. It was the best feeling. 

Seokjin’s parents were the last to show up seeing as they lived quite far away, and you waited nervously to meet them as your boyfriend took their luggage upstairs to one of the guest rooms. Meeting his brother and his friend and the rest of his family hadn’t been bad at all, so you were feeling very optimistic by now. Still, you could hear your heart beating frantically when you saw Seokjin leading them into the kitchen where you were blowing some last minute balloons. 

“You must be Y/N,” his mom greeted with a smile, arms wide as she walked towards. With a quick embrace she kissed you on the cheek. Seokjin had warned you about that. 

“Hi, it’s really nice to meet you,” you smiled back, relaxing slightly down to her warm attitude. (It also helped Seokjin had taken place by your side, arm brushing against yours.) You glanced towards his father, greeting him with the same smile and he gave you a nod, a friendly “Likewise,” leaving his lips. Seokjin had also let you know that his father was the silent, polite type. Seokjin was similar. They even looked quite alike. His mom was slim and elegant, and incredibly beautiful. 

“You’re even prettier than your pictures,” she informed you, taking your hands in hers. 

“Pictures?” You chuckled nervously, glancing up at Seokjin. 

He groaned quietly. “I may have sent her a couple of us together. My mom’s very nosey. Dad not so much.” 

“Oh,” you blurted, hearing his father laugh. You smiled coyly back at Mrs. Kim. “Thank you.” 

“Nonsense. I’m not nosey,” she insisted, raising an eyebrow at her son. “Curious, I’d call it.” 

Seokjin chuckled. “Of course, mom – Oh!” Something caught his attention out of the window and he rushed off, opening the sliding glass door to stick his head out. “Arin, your grandparents have arrived. Come say hi.” 

Mrs. Kim let go of your hands as Arin came dashing in like a hyper puppy. “Grandma! Grandpa!” She squealed, throwing herself into her grandfather’s arms. “It’s my birthday!” 

“Is it?” He asked, playing clueless, but he couldn’t keep it up for long. “Of course it is!” He kissed her cheek. “Happy birthday, pumpkin.” 

“Happy birthday, Arin. Are you having fun so far?” Her grandma asked, fluffing her hair. Arin went to hug her next. “What gifts did you get? We have yours in the car, but you have to wait until later, okay?” 

Arin nodded, before proceeding to talk all about her day. She didn’t come up for air, which was highly amusing for all four of you. However, inevitably, she got bored, her hand slipping into yours, tugging it gently for your attention. “Y/N, can we go and see if the buffet is ready now?”

“Of course we can.” You glanced at your watch, then up at Seokjin who was doing the same. It was half past two, you’d agreed to start eating at 3pm. Arin’s senses were perfect. 

“No sneaking anything off the table, young lady.” Seokjin told her. “Especially not cake. You won’t have to wait long.”

Arin couldn’t help but giggle at that, already beginning to drag you off. 

.

.

You were on your way back from the lower floor bathroom when you bumped into Seokjin’s mother again. She was stood by the dining room entrance, rooting around in her purse, pulling out her cell phone. “Oh, Y/N, dear, I was just getting my phone so I could take a few pictures of Arin. I need to show them to my mother. She’s a bit too old to make the journey down here.” 

“Awh, that’s a shame,” you replied, coming to a halt politely. 

With a nod, she changed the subject. “I’m so glad the weather is hot for her birthday.”

“I know. She’s been so excited, hasn’t been able to stop talking about it for the past month,” you laughed. The party had been a success, the food and games going down a treat. It had been a long time since you’d attended a child’s birthday party – your siblings were long past that age, and you’d forgotten how fun they could be, even if you were much older now.

Being surrounded by Seokjin’s family wasn’t as nerve-wracking as you’d initially thought. They were all so lovely – not that you didn’t expect anything less, of course, you were just thankful you could hold a natural conversation with his mom. 

“She really likes you. I can tell.” Mrs. Kim said out of the blue, surprising you, but you tried to hide it well.

Smiling softly, you replied, “I’m fond of her too.” 

“I heard you were her teacher?”

“For a short while.” You nodded. “That’s how Seokjin and I met.” But you guessed she already knew that, you know, mother’s curiosity and all. 

Her mouth quirked up and then she snorted. “My son definitely knows how to make an impression. I heard he hit your car?”

Laughing, you’d been correct. He had told her how you’d met. “Yeah, but I try not to tease him too much about that anymore.” 

“It sounds like fate, no?” She smiled, before shaking her head and raising a hand. “Sorry, I’m a hopeless romantic at heart. The first time my husband and I set eyes on one another it was love at first… You probably don’t want to hear about that,” she chuckled. You opened your mouth, ready to disagree, but she spoke again. “I just… I haven’t seen Seokjin this happy in a very long time. Not since Arin was born.” 

Speechless, you tried to think of something to say. Just what? “Oh, I –”

“What are you two conspiring about in here?” 

You heard Seokjin’s voice from behind you and turned to see him walking towards you both with a grin on his face. When he reached you he cupped your waist, kissing you on the cheek. His mom watched on fondly. 

“Nothing… much,” she replied, a teasing lilt to her voice. It caught his attention. “I was just telling Y/N that I haven’t see you this happy in years.” 

“Mo-mm,” he whined, immediately growing red. 

“What? I’m just speaking the truth, Seokjin,” she laughed and looked in your direction. “He gets embarrassed so easily. Have you noticed?” 

“I have,” you laughed along. 

Smiling tenderly at him, she stepped forward and touched his arm. “I’ve loved hearing my son laugh all afternoon.” Seokjin dropped his head, even more embarrassed now. He was cute. “Okay.” She clapped her hands, taking pity on him. “That’s enough from me. I’ll leave. Your father’s probably on his third slice of cake by now…” Kissing Seokjin’s cheek softly, she began to walk off. “You love me really.” 

“Of course,” Seokjin called, turning to you once she’d left, heading back in the direction of the garden. “Sorry about that.” 

You chuckled. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. We were just talking.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, hugging him. “You’re cute.” 

“You’re never too old to be embarrassed by your mom,” he muttered, kissing the top of your head. Snorting, you leaned back, but he held you tight, gazing into your eyes. “You look really pretty today.” 

“You say that every day.” 

“Because it’s true.” He kissed your lips, stopping any clever remark you may have had dead. 

Instead, as he pulled away, you brought your hands up to his chest, straightening the collar of his shirt. “Let’s get back outside. I’m enjoying myself.” 

“I’m glad.” Seokjin beamed, eyes twinkling. 

At that moment, it hit you how happy he looked… You’d not really noticed it prior, but now his mom had pointed it out it was so obvious. 

You hoped he could tell just how happy you were too… It was all down to him, after all.  

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

[reservoirbunny]

Insert witty caption here

[werejusttouchingeachother]

tqa – ix.

genre: smut (m)

words: 705

There was something so angelic, so divine about the way Haechan sounded when he was begging. Dating the noisiest brattiest vocalist definitely had its perks in your sex life--you absolutely loved the way he moaned.

The afternoon sunlight filtering in through the pale curtains fell on his glowing honey skin so perfectly, the sheen of sweat glistening as you continued teasing him mercilessly while watching him struggle in his position, wrists and ankles bound to the bedpost. His dark hair was matted to his forehead, dark eyes appearing like pools of caramel in the sun's rays as they fluttered open with every touch of your light fingers, every butterfly kiss from your lips. You love how helpless he looked, how he always willingly gave you control in the bedroom and how this was a secret that only you were privy to.

After orgasms that had been far too many to count, he'd made a mess all over himself and the sheets--thighs, stomach and even his chest covered in his thick white cream as you teased him to the brink of insanity. You'd allowed him to cum several times and there were tears brimming in his eyes now as you sat on your knees behind him, hands lightly tracing along the sides of his thighs. Your chest was pressed up against his back, the thin tee that you were wearing doing nothing to conceal your perky breasts that he could most definitely feel as you ran your fingers gingerly over his soft and supple flesh.

Lowering your head to the crook of his neck where it met his shoulder, you placed your mouth at the juncture of his throat that you had memorised as his sweet spot. Sucking the skin harshly in between your teeth until he was twitching in desperation, you raised your hands to his chest. Haechan jolted as your fingernails suddenly scraped teasingly over his nipples, twisting the perky buds between your thumbs and forefingers before gently rubbing them.

He relaxed back into your torso as you got into a rhythm, circling the sensitive buds in slow motions until he was whimpering softly. Without ever stopping your ministrations on his neck, you continued biting and licking the reddened skin of his throat while making it glisten with the trails of your saliva as he rolled his hips back into you.

So sensitive, yet so needy.

You straightened up on your knees then, lowering your face further down his chest and taking the erect nub into your warm wet mouth. Haechan gasped loudly, the melodic sound sending a fresh wave of arousal straight through you as you suckled on the nipple while harshly tugging at the other one with your fingers. Laying your tongue flat over the areola, you circled it rapidly, wet lips making filthy noises that sounded loud in the room while mixing with Haechan's delicate mewls before moving to the other nipple. After giving it the same harsh treatment as well, wetting the hard bud thoroughly before flicking it one last time while hearing his whines grow louder as he drew closer to his high.

You pulled away then, watching your boyfriend's flushed face, his closed eyes and parted lips as he panted for breath before roughly twisting both his now-wet nipples in between your fingers.

Haechan let out a loud broken wail, back arching as he climaxed yet again, falling apart beneath your hands as his body trembled from the force of the orgasm, eyes squeezing shut and tears streaming down his cheeks from the oversensitivity. You gently pressed your lips on his red neck that was scattered with hickeys, peppering gentle kisses and then froze as you glanced down.

Your boyfriend was leaning back into you, body heavy and exhausted and you were certain that if you made him cum one more time, he'd probably pass out in your arms but as you stared at his messy thighs now, you couldn't help but notice the absence of fresh cum.

"Baby," you mumbled huskily, fighting to keep the arousal out of your voice.

Haechan hummed feebly in response, eyes still closed and chest still heaving.

"Did you just cum dry?"

masterlist

[aboveallarescuer]

Dany and Daario’s relationship

This is a list of all the passages from the books featuring key moments in Dany and Daario’s relationship. I included all of Dany's thoughts about Daario because they inform their dynamic and because, perhaps surprisingly, Daario only appears onpage in six chapters (ASOS Dany IV to VI and ADWD Dany IV, VI and VII).

To be clear, this post is not meant to be anti-Jonerys; it simply acknowledges the fact that Dany's relationship with Daario is one of the most important ones of her journey thus far (and that she has the right to be in a relationship with whomever she wants to be, unlike what certain incels who self-insert as Jon might think).

A Dance with Dragons

ADWD Daenerys X

She still clung to the hope that someone would come after her. Ser Barristan might come seeking her; he was the first of her Queensguard, sworn to defend her life with his own. And her bloodriders were no strangers to the Dothraki sea, and their lives were bound to her own. Her husband, the noble Hizdahr zo Loraq, might dispatch searchers. And Daario ... Dany pictured him riding toward her through the tall grass, smiling, his golden tooth gleaming with the last light of the setting sun.

Only Daario had been given to the Yunkai’i, a hostage to ensure no harm came to the Yunkish captains. Daario and Hero, Jhogo and Groleo, and three of Hizdahr’s kin. By now, surely, all of her hostages would have been released. But ...

She wondered if her captain’s blades still hung upon the wall beside her bed, waiting for Daario to return and claim them. “I will leave my girls with you,” he had said. “Keep them safe for me, beloved.” And she wondered how much the Yunkai’i knew about what her captain meant to her. She had asked Ser Barristan that question the afternoon the hostages went forth. “They will have heard the talk,” he had replied. “Naharis may even have boasted of Your Grace’s ... of your great ... regard ... for him. If you will forgive my saying so, modesty is not one of the captain’s virtues. He takes great pride in his ... his swordsmanship.”

He boasts of bedding me, you mean. But Daario would not have been so foolish as to make such a boast amongst her enemies. It makes no matter. By now the Yunkai’i will be marching home. That was why she had done all that she had done. For peace.

~

As the world darkened, Dany settled in and closed her eyes, but sleep refused to come. The night was cold, the ground hard, her belly empty. She found herself thinking of Meereen, of Daario, her love, and Hizdahr, her husband, of Irri and Jhiqui and sweet Missandei, Ser Barristan and Reznak and Skahaz Shavepate. Do they fear me dead? I flew off on a dragon’s back. Will they think he ate me?

~

“Walk,” Dany commanded herself. “Follow the stream and it will take you to the Skahazadhan. That’s where Daario will find you.”

~

Bells, Dany thought again. Her bloodriders had found her. “Aggo,” she whispered. “Jhogo. Rakharo.” Might Daario have come with them?

~

Dany, starved, slid off his back and ate with him, ripping chunks of smoking meat from the dead horse with bare, burned hands. In Meereen I was a queen in silk, nibbling on stuffed dates and honeyed lamb, she remembered. What would my noble husband think if he could see me now? Hizdahr would be horrified, no doubt. But Daario ...

Daario would laugh, carve off a hunk of horsemeat with his arakh, and squat down to eat beside her.

ADWD Daenerys IX

“She needs a spear,” Ser Barristan said, as Barsena vaulted over the beast’s second charge. “That is no way to fight a boar.” He sounded like someone’s fussy old grandsire, just as Daario was always saying.

ADWD Daenerys VIII

No Ghiscari feast was complete without a course of dog. Hizdahr’s cooks prepared dog four different ways. “Ghiscari will eat anything that swims or flies or crawls, but for man and dragon,” Daario had warned her, “and I’d wager they’d eat dragon too if given half a chance.” Meat alone does not make a meal, though, so there were fruits and grains and vegetables as well. The air was redolent with the scents of saffron, cinnamon, cloves, pepper, and other costly spices.

~

The Second Sons were represented too. If Daario were here, this meal would end in blood. No promised peace could ever have persuaded her captain to permit Brown Ben Plumm to stroll back into Meereen and leave alive. Dany had sworn that no harm would come to the seven envoys and commanders, though that had not been enough for the Yunkai’i. They had required hostages of her as well. To balance the three Yunkish nobles and four sellsword captains, Meereen sent seven of its own out to the siege camp: Hizdahr’s sister, two of his cousins, Dany’s bloodrider Jhogo, her admiral Groleo, the Unsullied captain Hero, and Daario Naharis.

“I will leave my girls with you,” her captain had said, handing her his sword belt and its gilded wantons. “Keep them safe for me, beloved. We would not want them making bloody mischief amongst the Yunkai’i.”

The Shavepate was absent as well. The first thing Hizdahr had done upon being crowned was to remove him from command of the Brazen Beasts, replacing him with his own cousin, the plump and pasty Marghaz zo Loraq. It is for the best. The Green Grace says there is blood between Loraq and Kandaq, and the Shavepate never made a secret of his disdain for my lord husband. And Daario …

Daario had only grown wilder since her wedding. Her peace did not please him, her marriage pleased him less, and he had been furious at being deceived by the Dornishmen. When Prince Quentyn told them that the other Westerosi had come over to the Stormcrows at the command of the Tattered Prince, only the intercession of Grey Worm and his Unsullied prevented Daario from killing them all. The false deserters had been imprisoned safely in the bowels of the pyramid … but Daario’s rage continued to fester.

He will be safer as a hostage. My captain was not made for peace. Dany could not risk his cutting down Brown Ben Plumm, making mock of Hizdahr before the court, provoking the Yunkai’i, or otherwise upsetting the agreement that she had given up so much to win. Daario was war and woe. Henceforth, she must keep him out of her bed, out of her heart, and out of her. If he did not betray her, he would master her. She did not know which of those she feared the most.

~

“Is there some man in the Second Sons who might be persuaded to … remove … Brown Ben?”

“As Daario Naharis once removed the other captains of the Stormcrows?” The old knight looked uncomfortable. “Perhaps. I would not know, Your Grace.”

No, she thought, you are too honest and too honorable.

~

“You ought to return there. My court is no safe place for you, I fear. You have more enemies than you know. You made Daario look a fool, and he is not a man to forget such a slight.”

“I have my knights. My sworn shields.”

“Two knights. Daario has five hundred Stormcrows. And you would do well to beware of my lord husband too. He seems a mild and pleasant man, I know, but do not be deceived. Hizdahr’s crown derives from mine, and he commands the allegiance of some of the most fearsome fighters in the world. If one of them should think to win his favor by disposing of a rival …”

“I am a prince of Dorne, Your Grace. I will not run from slaves and sell swords.”

Then you truly are a fool, Prince Frog.

~

She wondered what Daario was doing. Was he restless as well? Was he thinking about her? Did he love her, truly? Did he hate her for marrying Hizdahr? I should never have taken him into my bed. He was only a sellsword, no fit consort for a queen, and yet …

I knew that all along, but I did it anyway.

ADWD Daenerys VII

Dawn always came too soon.

She had not slept, could not sleep, would not sleep. She had not even dared to close her eyes, for fear it would be morning when she opened them again. If only she had the power, she would have made their nights go on forever, but the best that she could do was stay awake to try and savor every last sweet moment before daybreak turned them into no more than fading memories.

Beside her, Daario Naharis was sleeping as peacefully as a newborn babe. He had a gift for sleeping, he’d boasted, smiling in that cocksure way of his. In the field, he would sleep in the saddle oft as not, he claimed, so as to be well rested should he come upon a battle. Sun or storm, it made no matter. “A warrior who cannot sleep soon has no strength to fight,” he said. He was never vexed by nightmares either. When Dany told him how Serwyn of the Mirror Shield was haunted by the ghosts of all the knights he’d killed, Daario only laughed. “If the ones I killed come bother me, I will kill them all again.” He has a sellsword’s conscience, she realized then. That is to say, none at all.

Daario lay upon his stomach, the light linen coverlets tangled about his long legs, his face half-buried in the pillows. Dany ran her hand down his back, tracing the line of his spine. His skin was smooth beneath her touch, almost hairless. His skin is silk and satin. She loved the feel of him beneath her fingers. She loved to run her fingers through his hair, to knead the ache from his calves after a long day in the saddle, to cup his cock and feel it harden against her palm.

If she had been some ordinary woman, she would gladly have spent her whole life touching Daario, tracing his scars and making him tell her how he’d come by every one. I would give up my crown if he asked it of me, Dany thought … but he had not asked it, and never would. Daario might whisper words of love when the two of them were as one, but she knew it was the dragon queen he loved. If I gave up my crown, he would not want me. Besides, kings who lost their crowns oft lost their heads as well, and she could see no reason why it would be any different for a queen.

The candle flickered one last time and died, drowned in its own wax. Darkness swallowed the feather bed and its two occupants, and filled every corner of the chamber. Dany wrapped her arms around her captain and pressed herself against his back. She drank in the scent of him, savoring the warmth of his flesh, the feel of his skin against her own. Remember, she told herself. Remember how he felt. She kissed him on his shoulder.

Daario rolled toward her, his eyes open. “Daenerys.” He smiled a lazy smile. That was another of his talents; he woke all at once, like a cat. “Is it dawn?”

“Not yet. We have a while still.”

“Liar. I can see your eyes. Could I do that if it were the black of night?” Daario kicked loose of the coverlets and sat up. “The half-light. Day will be here soon.”

“I do not want this night to end.”

“No? And why is that, my queen?”

“You know.”

“The wedding?” He laughed. “Marry me instead.”

“You know I cannot do that.”

“You are a queen. You can do what you like.” He slid a hand along her leg. “How many nights remain to us?”

Two. Only two. “You know as well as I. This night and the next, and we must end this.”

“Marry me, and we can have all the nights forever.”

If I could, I would. Khal Drogo had been her sun-and-stars, but he had been dead so long that Daenerys had almost forgotten how it felt to love and be loved. Daario had helped her to remember. I was dead and he brought me back to life. I was asleep and he woke me. My brave captain. Even so, of late he grew too bold. On the day that he returned from his latest sortie, he had tossed the head of a Yunkish lord at her feet and kissed her in the hall for all the world to see, until Barristan Selmy pulled the two of them apart. Ser Grandfather had been so wroth that Dany feared blood might be shed. “We cannot wed, my love. You know why.”

He climbed from her bed. “Marry Hizdahr, then. I will give him a nice set of horns for his wedding gift. Ghiscari men like to prance about in horns. They make them from their own hair, with combs and wax and irons.” Daario found his breeches and pulled them on. He did not trouble himself with smallclothes.

“Once I am wed it will be high treason to desire me.” Dany pulled the coverlet up over her breasts.

“Then I must be a traitor.” He slipped a blue silk tunic over his head and straightened the prongs of his beard with his fingers. He had dyed it afresh for her, taking it from purple back to blue, as it had been when first she met him. “I smell of you,” he said, sniffing at his fingers and grinning.

Dany loved the way his gold tooth gleamed when he grinned. She loved the fine hairs on his chest. She loved the strength in his arms, the sound of his laughter, the way he would always look into her eyes and say her name as he slid his cock inside her. “You are beautiful,” she blurted as she watched him don his riding boots and lace them up. Some days he let her do that for him, but not today, it seemed. That’s done with too.

“Not beautiful enough to marry.” Daario took his sword belt off the peg where he had hung it.

“Where are you going?”

“Out into your city,” he said, “to drink a keg or two and pick a quarrel. It has been too long since I’ve killed a man. Might be I should seek out your betrothed.”

Dany threw a pillow at him. “You will leave Hizdahr be!”

“As my queen commands. Will you hold court today?”

“No. On the morrow I will be a woman wed, and Hizdahr will be king. Let him hold court. These are his people.”

“Some are his, some are yours. The ones you freed.”

“Are you chiding me?”

“The ones you call your children. They want their mother.”

“You are. You are chiding me.”

“Only a little, bright heart. Will you come hold court?”

“After my wedding, perhaps. After the peace.”

“This after that you speak of never comes. You should hold court. My new men do not believe that you are real. The ones who came over from the Windblown. Bred and born in Westeros, most of them, full of tales about Targaryens. They want to see one with their own eyes. The Frog has a gift for you.”

“The Frog?” she said, giggling. “And who is he?”

He shrugged. “Some Dornish boy. He squires for the big knight they call Greenguts. I told him he could give his gift to me and I’d deliver it, but he wouldn’t have it.”

“Oh, a clever frog. ‘Give the gift to me.’” She threw the other pillow at him. “Would I have ever seen it?”

Daario stroked his gilded mustachio. “Would I steal from my sweet queen? If it were a gift worthy of you, I would have put it into your soft hands myself.”

“As a token of your love?”

“As to that I will not say, but I told him that he could give it to you. You would not make a liar of Daario Naharis?”

Dany was helpless to refuse. “As you wish. Bring your frog to court tomorrow. The others too. The Westerosi.” It would be nice to hear the Common Tongue from someone besides Ser Barristan.

“As my queen commands.” Daario bowed deeply, grinned, and took his leave, his cloak swirling behind him.

Dany sat amongst the rumpled bedclothes with her arms about her knees, so forlorn that she did not hear when Missandei came creeping in with bread and milk and figs. “Your Grace? Are you unwell? In the black of night this one heard you scream.”

Dany took a fig. It was black and plump, still moist with dew. Will Hizdahr ever make me scream? “It was the wind that you heard screaming.” She took a bite, but the fruit had lost its savor now that Daario was gone. Sighing, she rose and called to Irri for a robe, then wandered out onto her terrace.

~

It was close to sunset before Daario Naharis appeared with his new Stormcrows, the Westerosi who had come over to him from the Windblown. Dany found herself glancing at them as yet another petitioner droned on and on. These are my people. I am their rightful queen.

~

“You may rise,” she said. “Daario tells me you come to us from Dorne. Dornishmen will always have a welcome at my court. Sunspear stayed loyal to my father when the Usurper stole his throne. You must have faced many perils to reach me.”

“Too many,” said Gerrold, the handsome one with the sun-streaked hair. “We were six when we left Dorne, Your Grace.”

“I am sorry for your losses.” The queen turned to his large companion. “Greenguts is a queer sort of name.”

“A jape, Your Grace. From the ships. I was greensick the whole way from Volantis. Heaving and … well, I shouldn’t say.”

Dany giggled. “I think that I can guess, ser. It is ser, is it not? Daario tells me that you are a knight.”

“If it please Your Grace, we are all three knights.”

Dany glanced at Daario and saw anger flash across his face. He did not know.

~

“If you wish,” Daenerys said, curious, but as Frog started forward Daario Naharis stepped in front of him and held out a gloved hand. “Give this gift to me.”

Stone-faced, the stocky lad bent, unlaced his boot, and drew a yellowed parchment from a hidden flap within.

“This is your gift? A scrap of writing?” Daario snatched the parchment out of the Dornishman’s hands and unrolled it, squinting at the seals and signatures. “Very pretty, all the gold and ribbons, but I do not read your Westerosi scratchings.”

“Bring it to the queen,” Ser Barristan commanded. “Now.”

Dany could feel the anger in the hall. “I am only a young girl, and young girls must have their gifts,” she said lightly. “Daario, please, you must not tease me. Give it here.”

~

That night Daario had her every way a man can have a woman, and she gave herself to him willingly. The last time, as the sun was coming up, she used her mouth to make him hard again, as Doreah had taught her long ago, then rode him so wildly that his wound began to bleed again, and for one sweet heartbeat she could not tell whether he was inside of her, or her inside of him.

~

But when the sun rose upon her wedding day so did Daario Naharis, donning his clothes and buckling on his sword belt with its gleaming golden wantons. “Where are you going?” Dany asked him. “I forbid you to make a sortie today.”

“My queen is cruel,” her captain said. “If I cannot slay your foes, how shall I amuse myself whilst you are being wed?”

“By nightfall I shall have no foes.”

“It is only dawn, sweet queen. The day is long. Time enough for one last sortie. I will bring you back the head of Brown Ben Plumm for a wedding gift.”

“No heads,” Dany insisted. “Once you brought me flowers.”

“Let Hizdahr bring you flowers. He is not one to stoop and pluck a dandelion, true, but he has servants who will be pleased to do it for him. Do I have your leave to go?”

“No.” She wanted him to stay and hold her. One day he will go and not return, she thought. One day some archer will put an arrow through his chest, or ten men will fall on him with spears and swords and axes, ten would-be heroes. Five of them would die, but that would not make her grief easier to bear. One day I will lose him, as I lost my sun-and-stars. But please gods, not today.

~

“...Do I have your leave to go?”

“No.” [...] “Come back to bed and kiss me.” No one had ever kissed her like Daario Naharis. “I am your queen, and I command you to fuck me.”

She had meant it playfully, but Daario’s eyes hardened at her words. “Fucking queens is king’s work. Your noble Hizdahr can attend to that, once you’re wed. And if he proves to be too highborn for such sweaty work, he has servants who will be pleased to do that for him as well. Or perhaps you can call the Dornish boy into your bed, and his pretty friend as well, why not?” He strode from the bedchamber.

He is going to make a sortie, Dany realized, and if he takes Ben Plumm’s head, he’ll walk into the wedding feast and throw it at my feet. Seven save me. Why couldn’t he be better born?

~

“Your Grace does not love the noble Hizdahr. This one thinks you would sooner have another for your husband.”

I must not think of Daario today. “A queen loves where she must, not where she will.”

~

“Gracious queen, well met!” Another procession had come up beside her own, and Hizdahr zo Loraq was smiling at her from his own sedan chair. My king. Dany wondered where Daario Naharis was, what he was doing. If this were a story, he would gallop up just as we reached the temple, to challenge Hizdahr for my hand.

~

Side by side the queen’s procession and Hizdahr zo Loraq’s made their slow way across Meereen, until finally the Temple of the Graces loomed up before them, its golden domes flashing in the sun. How beautiful, the queen tried to tell herself, but inside her was some foolish little girl who could not help but look about for Daario. If he loved you, he would come and carry you off at swordpoint, as Rhaegar carried off his northern girl, the girl in her insisted, but the queen knew that was folly. Even if her captain was mad enough to attempt it, the Brazen Beasts would cut him down before he got within a hundred yards of her.

ADWD Daenerys VI

“If we should wed by Westerosi rites …”

“The gods of Ghis would deem it no true union.” Galazza Galare’s face was hidden behind a veil of green silk. Only her eyes showed, green and wise and sad. “In the eyes of the city you would be the noble Hizdahr’s concubine, not his lawful wedded wife. Your children would be bastards. Your Worship must marry Hizdahr in the Temple of the Graces, with all the nobility of Meereen on hand to bear witness to your union.”

Get the heads of all the noble houses out of their pyramids on some pretext, Daario had said. The dragon’s words are fire and blood. Dany pushed the thought aside. It was not worthy of her.

~

“I am sorry to disturb you, but I thought that you would want to know at once. The Stormcrows have returned to the city, with word of the foe. The Yunkishmen are on the march, just as we had feared.”

A flicker of annoyance crossed the noble face of Hizdahr zo Loraq. “The queen is at her supper. These sellswords can wait.”

Ser Barristan ignored him. “I asked Lord Daario to make his report to me, as Your Grace had commanded. He laughed and said that he would write it out in his own blood if Your Grace would send your little scribe to show him how to make the letters.”

“Blood?” said Dany, horrified. “Is that a jape? No. No, don’t tell me, I must see him for myself.” She was a young girl, and alone, and young girls can change their minds. “Convene my captains and commanders. Hizdahr, I know you will forgive me.”

“Meereen must come first.” Hizdahr smiled genially. “We will have other nights. A thousand nights.”

“Ser Barristan will show you out.” Dany hurried off, calling for her handmaids. She would not welcome her captain home in a tokar. In the end she tried a dozen gowns before she found one she liked, but she refused the crown that Jhiqui offered her.

As Daario Naharis took a knee before her, Dany’s heart gave a lurch. His hair was matted with dried blood, and on his temple a deep cut glistened red and raw. His right sleeve was bloody almost to the elbow. “You’re hurt,” she gasped.

“This?” Daario touched his temple. “A crossbowman tried to put a quarrel through my eye, but I outrode it. I was hurrying home to my queen, to bask in the warmth of her smile.” He shook his sleeve, spattering red droplets. “This blood is not mine. One of my serjeants said we should go over to the Yunkai’i, so I reached down his throat and pulled his heart out. I meant to bring it to you as a gift for my silver queen, but four of the Cats cut me off and came snarling and spitting after me. One almost caught me, so I threw the heart into his face.”

“Very gallant,” said Ser Barristan, in a tone that suggested it was anything but, “but do you have tidings for Her Grace?”

“Hard tidings, Ser Grandfather. Astapor is gone, and the slavers are coming north in strength.”

“This is old news, and stale,” growled the Shavepate.

“Your mother said the same of your father’s kisses,” Daario replied. “Sweet queen, I would have been here sooner, but the hills are aswarm with Yunkish sellswords. Four free companies. Your Stormcrows had to cut their way through all of them. There is more, and worse. The Yunkai’i are marching their host up the coast road, joined by four legions out of New Ghis. They have elephants, a hundred, armored and towered. Tolosi slingers too, and a corps of Qartheen camelry. Two more Ghiscari legions took ship at Astapor. If our captives told it true, they will be landed beyond the Skahazadhan to cut us off from the Dothraki sea.”

As he told his tale, from time to time a drop of bright red blood would patter against the marble floor, and Dany would wince. “How many men were killed?” she asked when he was done.

“Of ours? I did not stop to count. We gained more than we lost, though.”

“More turncloaks?”

“More brave men drawn to your noble cause. My queen will like them. One is an axeman from the Basilisk Isles, a brute, bigger than Belwas. You should see him. Some Westerosi too, a score or more. Deserters from the Windblown, unhappy with the Yunkai’i. They’ll make good Stormcrows.”

“If you say.” Dany would not quibble. Meereen might soon have need of every sword.

Ser Barristan frowned at Daario. “Captain, you made mention of four free companies. We know of only three. The Windblown, the Long Lances, and the Company of the Cat.”

“Ser Grandfather knows how to count. The Second Sons have gone over to the Yunkai’i.” Daario turned his head and spat. “That’s for Brown Ben Plumm. When next I see his ugly face I will open him from throat to groin and rip out his black heart.”

Dany tried to speak and found no words.

~

“Leave me. Daario, remain. That cut should be washed, and I have more questions for you.”

The others bowed and went. Dany took Daario Naharis up the steps to her bedchamber, where Irri washed his cut with vinegar and Jhiqui wrapped it in white linen. When that was done she sent her handmaids off as well. “Your clothes are stained with blood,” she told Daario. “Take them off.”

“Only if you do the same.” He kissed her.

His hair smelled of blood and smoke and horse, and his mouth was hard and hot on hers. Dany trembled in his arms. When they broke apart, she said, “I thought you would be the one to betray me. Once for blood and once for gold and once for love, the warlocks said. I thought … I never thought Brown Ben. Even my dragons seemed to trust him.” She clutched her captain by the shoulders. “Promise me that you will never turn against me. I could not bear that. Promise me.”

“Never, my love.”

She believed him. “I swore that I should wed Hizdahr zo Loraq if he gave me ninety days of peace, but now … I wanted you from the first time that I saw you, but you were a sellsword, fickle, treacherous. You boasted that you’d had a hundred women.”

“A hundred?” Daario chuckled through his purple beard. “I lied, sweet queen. It was a thousand. But never once a dragon.”

She raised her lips to his. “What are you waiting for?”

ADWD Daenerys V

And you will have the friendship of Lhazar.”

Daario won that for me, for all that it is worth.

~

“A mistake. The Great Master Hizdahr plays Your Worship for a fool. Do you want a serpent in your bed?”

I want Daario in my bed, but I sent him away for the sake of you and yours. “You may continue to watch Hizdahr zo Loraq, but no harm is to come to him. Is that understood?”

~

“And the Stormcrows, Your Grace?”

Daario. “Yes. Yes.” Just three nights ago she had dreamed of Daario lying dead beside the road, staring sightlessly into the sky as crows quarreled above his corpse. Other nights she tossed in her bed, imagining that he’d betrayed her, as he had once betrayed his fellow captains in the Stormcrows. He brought me their heads. What if he had taken his company back to Yunkai, to sell her for a pot of gold? He would not do that. Would he? “The Stormcrows too. Send riders after them at once.”

The Second Sons were the first to return, eight days after the queen sent forth her summons. When Ser Barristan told her that her captain desired words with her, she thought for a moment that it was Daario, and her heart leapt. But the captain that he spoke of was Brown Ben Plumm.

~

“You warned King Cleon against this war with Yunkai. The man was a fool, and his hands were red with blood.”

And are my hands any cleaner? She remembered what Daario had said—that all kings must be butchers, or meat.

~

Daenerys looked at the faces of the men around her. The Shavepate, scowling. Ser Barristan, with his lined face and sad blue eyes. Reznak mo Reznak, pale, sweating. Brown Ben, white-haired, grizzled, tough as old leather. Grey Worm, smooth-cheeked, stolid, expressionless. Daario should be here, and my bloodriders, she thought.

~

“What does Naharis have to say? If we’re going to make a fight o’ this, we need his Stormcrows.”

“Daario is still in the field.” Oh, gods, what have I done? Have I sent him to his death?

ADWD Daenerys IV

“I do not love you.”

Hizdahr shrugged. “That may come, in time. It has been known to happen that way.”

Not with us, she thought. Not whilst Daario is so close. It’s him I want, not you.

~

“Forgive me. Your Grace has a visitor. Shall I tell him to return upon the morrow?”

“Who is it?”

“Naharis. The Stormcrows have returned to the city.”

Daario. Her heart gave a flutter in her chest. “How long has … when did he …?” She could not seem to get the words out.

Ser Barristan seemed to understand. “Your Grace was with the priestess when he arrived. I knew you would not want to be disturbed. The captain’s news can wait until the morrow.”

“No.” How could I ever hope to sleep, knowing that my captain so close? “Send him up at once. And … I will have no more need of you this evening. I shall be safe with Daario. Oh, and send Irri and Jhiqui, if you would be so good. And Missandei.” I need to change, to make myself beautiful.

She said as much to her handmaids when they came. “What does Your Grace wish to wear?” asked Missandei.

Starlight and seafoam, Dany thought, a wisp of silk that leaves my left breast bare for Daario’s delight. Oh, and flowers for my hair. When first they met, the captain brought her flowers every day, all the way from Yunkai to Meereen. “Bring the grey linen gown with the pearls on the bodice. Oh, and my white lion’s pelt.” She always felt safer wrapped in Drogo’s lionskin.

Daenerys received the captain on her terrace, seated on a carved stone bench beneath a pear tree. A half-moon floated in the sky above the city, attended by a thousand stars. Daario Naharis entered swaggering. He swaggers even when he is standing still. The captain wore striped pantaloons tucked into high boots of purple leather, a white silk shirt, a vest of golden rings. His trident beard was purple, his flamboyant mustachios gold, his long curls equal parts of both. On one hip he wore a stiletto, on the other a Dothraki arakh. “Bright queen,” he said, “you have grown more beautiful in my absence. How is this thing possible?”

The queen was accustomed to such praise, yet somehow the compliment meant more coming from Daario than from the likes of Reznak, Xaro, or Hizdahr. “Captain. They tell us you did us good service in Lhazar.” I have missed you so much.

“Your captain lives to serve his cruel queen.”

“Cruel?”

Moonlight glimmered in his eyes. “He raced ahead of all his men to see her face the sooner, only to be left languishing whilst she ate lamb and figs with some dried-up old woman.”

They never told me you were here, Dany thought, or I might have played the fool and sent for you at once. “I was supping with the Green Grace.” It seemed best not to mention Hizdahr. “I had urgent need of her wise counsel.”

“I have only one urgent need: Daenerys.”

“Shall I send for food? You must be hungry.”

“I have not eaten in two days, but now that I am here, it is enough for me to feast upon your beauty.”

“My beauty will not fill up your belly.” She plucked down a pear and tossed it at him. “Eat this.”

“If my queen commands it.” He took a bite of the pear, his gold tooth gleaming. Juice ran down into his purple beard.

The girl in her wanted to kiss him so much it hurt. His kisses would be hard and cruel, she told herself, and he would not care if I cried out or commanded him to stop. But the queen in her knew that would be folly. “Tell me of your journey.”

He gave a careless shrug. “The Yunkai’i sent some hired swords to close the Khyzai Pass. The Long Lances, they name themselves. We descended on them in the night and sent a few to hell. In Lhazar I slew two of my own serjeants for plotting to steal the gems and gold plate my queen had entrusted to me as gifts for the Lamb Men. Elsewise, all went as I had promised.”

“How many men did you lose in the fighting?”

“Nine,” said Daario, “but a dozen of the Long Lances decided they would sooner be Stormcrows than corpses, so we came out three ahead. I told them they would live longer fighting with your dragons than against them, and they saw the wisdom in my words.”

That made her wary. “They might be spying for Yunkai.”

“They are too stupid to be spies. You do not know them.”

“Neither do you. Do you trust them?”

“I trust all my men. Just as far as I can spit.” He spat out a seed and smiled at her suspicions. “Shall I bring their heads to you? I will, if you command it. One is bald and two have braids and one dyes his beard four different colors. What spy would wear such a beard, I ask you? The slinger can put a stone through a gnat’s eye at forty paces, and the ugly one has a way with horses, but if my queen says that they must die …”

“I did not say that. I only … see that you keep your eye on them, that’s all.” She felt foolish saying it. She always felt a little foolish when she was with Daario. Gawky and girlish and slow-witted. What must he think of me? She changed the subject. “Will the Lamb Men send us food?”

“Grain will come down the Skahazadhan by barge, my queen, and other goods by caravan over the Khyzai.”

“Not the Skahazadhan. The river has been closed to us. The seas as well. You will have seen the ships out in the bay. The Qartheen have driven off a third of our fishing fleet and seized another third. The others are too frightened to leave port. What little trade we still had has been cut off.”

Daario tossed away the pear stem. “Qartheen have milk in their veins. Let them see your dragons, and they’ll run.”

Dany did not want to talk about the dragons. Farmers still came to her court with burned bones, complaining of missing sheep, though Drogon had not returned to the city. Some reported seeing him north of the river, above the grass of the Dothraki sea. Down in the pit, Viserion had snapped one of his chains; he and Rhaegal grew more savage every day. Once the iron doors had glowed red-hot, her Unsullied told her, and no one dared to touch them for a day. “Astapor is under siege as well.”

“This I knew. One of the Long Lances lived long enough to tell us that men were eating one another in the Red City. He said Meereen’s turn would come soon, so I cut his tongue out and fed it to a yellow dog. No dog will eat a liar’s tongue. When the yellow dog ate his, I knew he spoke the truth.”

“I have war inside the city too.” She told him of the Harpy’s Sons and the Brazen Beasts, of blood upon the bricks. “My enemies are all around me, within the city and without.”

“Attack,” he said at once. “A man surrounded by foes cannot defend himself. Try, and the axe will take you in the back whilst you are parrying the sword. No. When faced with many enemies, choose the weakest, kill him, ride over him, and escape.”

“Where should I escape to?”

“Into my bed. Into my arms. Into my heart.” The hilts of Daario’s arakh and stiletto were wrought in the shape of golden women, naked and wanton. He brushed his thumbs across them in a way that was remarkably obscene and smiled a wicked smile.

Dany felt blood rushing to her face. It was almost as if he were caressing her. Would he think me wanton too if I pulled him into bed? He made her want to be his wanton. I should never see him alone. He is too dangerous to have near me. “The Green Grace says that I must take a Ghiscari king,” she said, flustered. “She urges me to wed the noble Hizdahr zo Loraq.”

“That one?” Daario chuckled. “Why not Grey Worm, if you want a eunuch in your bed? Do you want a king?”

I want you. “I want peace. I gave Hizdahr ninety days to end the killings. If he does, I will take him for a husband.”

“Take me for your husband. I will do it in nine.”

You know I cannot do that, she almost said. “You are fighting shadows when you should be fighting the men who cast them,” Daario went on. “Kill them all and take their treasures, I say. Whisper the command, and your Daario will make you a pile of their heads taller than this pyramid.”

“If I knew who they were—”

“Zhak and Pahl and Merreq. Them, and all the rest. The Great Masters. Who else would it be?”

He is as bold as he is bloody. “We have no proof this is their work. Would you have me slaughter my own subjects?”

“Your own subjects would gladly slaughter you.”

He had been so long away, Dany had almost forgotten what he was. Sellswords were treacherous by nature, she reminded herself. Fickle, faithless, brutal. He will never be more than he is. He will never be the stuff of kings. “The pyramids are strong,” she explained to him. “We could take them only at great cost. The moment we attack one the others will rise against us.”

“Then winkle them out of their pyramids on some pretext. A wedding might serve. Why not? Promise your hand to Hizdahr and all the Great Masters will come to see you married. When they gather in the Temple of the Graces, turn us loose upon them.”

Dany was appalled. He is a monster. A gallant monster, but a monster still. “Do you take me for the Butcher King?”

“Better the butcher than the meat. All kings are butchers. Are queens so different?”

“This queen is.”

Daario shrugged. “Most queens have no purpose but to warm some king’s bed and pop out sons for him. If that’s the sort of queen you mean to be, best marry Hizdahr.”

Her anger flashed. “Have you forgotten who I am?”

“No. Have you?”

Viserys would have his head off for that insolence. “I am the blood of the dragon. Do not presume to teach me lessons.” When Dany stood, the lion pelt slipped from her shoulders and tumbled to the ground. “Leave me.”

Daario gave her a sweeping bow. “I live to obey.”

When he was gone, Daenerys called Ser Barristan back. “I want the Stormcrows back in the field.”

“Your Grace? They have only now returned …”

“I want them gone. Let them scout the Yunkish hinterlands and give protection to any caravans coming over the Khyzai Pass. Henceforth Daario shall make his reports to you. Give him every honor that is due him and see that his men are well paid, but on no account admit him to my presence.”

“As you say, Your Grace.”

That night she could not sleep but turned and twisted restlessly in her bed. She even went so far as to summon Irri, hoping her caresses might help ease her way to rest, but after a short while she pushed the Dothraki girl away. Irri was sweet and soft and willing, but she was not Daario.

What have I done? she thought, huddled in her empty bed. I have waited so long for him to come back, and I send him away. “He would make a monster of me,” she whispered, “a butcher queen.” But then she thought of Drogon far away, and the dragons in the pit. There is blood on my hands too, and on my heart. We are not so different, Daario and I. We are both monsters.

ADWD Daenerys III

Her face was warm. The wine, she told herself. Yet somehow she found herself thinking of Daario Naharis. His messenger had come that morning. The Stormcrows were returning from Lhazar. Her captain was riding back to her, bringing her the friendship of the Lamb Men. Food and trade, she reminded herself. He did not fail me, nor will he. Daario will help me save my city. The queen longed to see his face, to stroke his three-pronged beard, to tell him her troubles … but the Stormcrows were still many days away, beyond the Khyzai Pass, and she had a realm to rule.

~

He touched her bare breast lightly, and whispered, “Let me stay and help persuade you.”

For a moment she was tempted. Perhaps the dancers had stirred her after all. I could close my eyes and pretend that he was Daario. A dream Daario would be safer than the real one. But she pushed the thought aside.

“No, my lord. I thank you, but no.” Dany slipped from his arms. “Some other night, perhaps.” “Some other night.”

~

The next morning Dany woke as full of hope as she had been since first she came to Slaver’s Bay. Daario would soon be at her side once more, and together they would sail for Westeros. For home.

ADWD Daenerys II

“What is it?” she cried, as Irri shook her gently by the shoulder. It was the black of night outside. Something is wrong, she knew at once. “Is it Daario? What’s happened?” In her dream they had been man and wife, simple folk who lived a simple life in a tall stone house with a red door. In her dream he had been kissing her all over—her mouth, her neck, her breasts.

~

She found herself thinking of Daario Naharis once again, Daario with his gold tooth and trident beard, his strong hands resting on the hilts of his matched arakh and stiletto, hilts wrought of gold in the shape of naked women. The day he took his leave of her, as she was bidding him farewell, he had brushed the balls of his thumbs lightly across them, back and forth. I am jealous of a sword hilt, she had realized, of women made of gold. Sending him to the Lamb Men had been wise. She was a queen, and Daario Naharis was not the stuff of kings.

“It has been so long,” she had said to Ser Barristan, just yesterday. “What if Daario has betrayed me and gone over to my enemies?” Three treasons will you know. “What if he met another woman, some princess of the Lhazarene?”

The old knight neither liked nor trusted Daario, she knew. Even so, he had answered gallantly. “There is no woman more lovely than Your Grace. Only a blind man could believe otherwise, and Daario Naharis was not blind.”

No, she thought. His eyes are a deep blue, almost purple, and his gold tooth gleams when he smiles for me.

Ser Barristan was sure he would return, though. Dany could only pray that he was right.

~

On the road to Yunkai, when Daario tossed the heads of Sallor the Bald and Prendahl na Ghezn at her feet, her children made a feast of them. Dragons had no fear of men. And a dragon large enough to gorge on sheep could take a child just as easily.

ADWD Daenerys I

The most crucial task of all she had entrusted to Daario Naharis, glib-tongued Daario with his gold tooth and trident beard, smiling his wicked smile through purple whiskers. Beyond the eastern hills was a range of rounded sandstone mountains, the Khyzai Pass, and Lhazar. If Daario could convince the Lhazarene to reopen the overland trade routes, grains could be brought down the river or over the hills at need … but the Lamb Men had no reason to love Meereen.

~

There were times when Dany wondered if that razor might not be better saved for Reznak’s throat. He was a useful man, but she liked him little and trusted him less. The Undying of Qarth had told her she would be thrice betrayed. Mirri Maz Duur had been the first, Ser Jorah the second. Would Reznak be the third? The Shavepate? Daario? Or will it be someone I would never suspect, Ser Barristan or Grey Worm or Missandei?

A Storm of Swords

ASOS Daenerys VI

Across the room, Grey Worm wore the plain uniform of the Unsullied, his spiked bronze cap beneath one arm. These at least she could rely on, or so she hoped ... and Brown Ben Plumm as well, solid Ben with his grey-white hair and weathered face, so beloved of her dragons. And Daario beside him, glittering in gold. Daario and Ben Plumm, Grey Worm, Irri, Jhiqui, Missandei ... as she looked at them Dany found herself wondering which of them would betray her next.

The dragon has three heads. There are two men in the world who I can trust, if I can find them. I will not be alone then. We will be three against the world, like Aegon and his sisters.

~

“There are too many flies in this city.”

Ben Plumm gave a bark of laughter. “There were flies in my ale this morning. I swallowed one of them.”

“Flies are the dead man’s revenge.” Daario smiled, and stroked the center prong of his beard. “Corpses breed maggots, and maggots breed flies.”

“We will rid ourselves of the corpses, then. Starting with those in the plaza below. Grey Worm, will you see to it?”

“The queen commands, these ones obey.”

~

Dany beckoned to Daario. “How many seek audience this morning?”

“Two have presented themselves to bask in your radiance.”

Daario had plundered himself a whole new wardrobe in Meereen, and to match it he had redyed his trident beard and curly hair a deep rich purple. It made his eyes look almost purple too, as if he were some lost Valyrian.

~

“We have no slaves for sale,” said Dany.

“My queen?” Daario stepped forward. “The riverside is full of Meereenese, begging leave to be allowed to sell themselves to this Qartheen. They are thicker than the flies.”

Dany was shocked. “They want to be slaves?”

“The ones who come are well spoken and gently born, sweet queen. Such slaves are prized. In the Free Cities they will be tutors, scribes, bed slaves, even healers and priests. They will sleep in soft beds, eat rich foods, and dwell in manses. Here they have lost all, and live in fear and squalor.”

“I see.” Perhaps it was not so shocking, if these tales of Astapor were true. Dany thought a moment. “Any man who wishes to sell himself into slavery may do so. Or woman.” She raised a hand. “But they may not sell their children, nor a man his wife.”

“In Astapor the city took a tenth part of the price, each time a slave changed hands,” Missandei told her.

“We’ll do the same,” Dany decided. Wars were won with gold as much as swords. “A tenth part. In gold or silver coin, or ivory. Meereen has no need of saffron, cloves, or zorse hides.”

“It shall be done as you command, glorious queen,” said Daario. “My Stormcrows will collect your tenth.” If the Stormcrows saw to the collections at least half the gold would somehow go astray, Dany knew. But the Second Sons were just as bad, and the Unsullied were as unlettered as they were incorruptible. “Records must be kept,” she said. “Seek among the freedmen for men who can read, write, and do sums.”

~

“The queen has a good heart,” Daario purred through his deep purple whiskers, “but that one is more dangerous than all the Oznaks and Meros rolled up in one.” His strong hands caressed the hilts of his matched blades, those wanton golden women. “You need not even say the word, my radiance. Only give the tiniest nod, and your Daario shall fetch you back his ugly head.”

“Leave him be. The scales are balanced now. Let him go home.”

~

When her handmaid brought the book, Dany had no trouble finding the page where she had left off, but it was no good. She found herself reading the same passage half a dozen times. Ser Jorah gave me this book as a bride’s gift, the day I wed Khal Drogo. But Daario is right, I shouldn’t have banished him. I should have kept him, or I should have killed him. She played at being a queen, yet sometimes she still felt like a scared little girl. Viserys always said what a dolt I was. Was he truly mad? She closed the book. She could still recall Ser Jorah, if she wished. Or send Daario to kill him.

~

Later, when the time came for sleep, Dany took Irri into bed with her, for the first time since the ship. But even as she shuddered in release and wound her fingers through her handmaid’s thick black hair, she pretended it was Drogo holding her ... only somehow his face kept turning into Daario’s. If I want Daario I need only say so. She lay with Irri’s legs entangled in her own. His eyes looked almost purple today ...

Dany’s dreams were dark that night, and she woke three times from half-remembered nightmares. After the third time she was too restless to return to sleep. Moonlight streamed through the slanting windows, silvering the marble floors. A cool breeze was blowing through the open terrace doors. Irri slept soundly beside her, her lips slightly parted, one dark brown nipple peeping out above the sleeping silks. For a moment Dany was tempted, but it was Drogo she wanted, or perhaps Daario. Not Irri. The maid was sweet and skillful, but all her kisses tasted of duty.

~

“Aegon the Conqueror brought fire and blood to Westeros, but afterward he gave them peace, prosperity, and justice. But all I have brought to Slaver’s Bay is death and ruin. I have been more khal than queen, smashing and plundering, then moving on.”

“There is nothing to stay for,” said Brown Ben Plumm.

“Your Grace, the slavers brought their doom on themselves,” said Daario Naharis.

ASOS Daenerys V

“The harpy is a craven thing,” Daario Naharis said when he saw it. “She has a woman’s heart and a chicken’s legs. Small wonder her sons hide behind their walls.”

~

Worst of all, they had nailed a slave child up on every milepost along the coast road from Yunkai, nailed them up still living with their entrails hanging out and one arm always outstretched to point the way to Meereen. Leading her van, Daario had given orders for the children to be taken down before Dany had to see them, but she had countermanded him as soon as she was told. “I will see them,” she said. “I will see every one, and count them, and look upon their faces. And I will remember.”

~

He was still pissing when Daario Naharis rode up, arakh in hand. “Shall I cut that off for you and stuff it down his mouth, Your Grace?” His tooth shone gold amidst the blue of his forked beard.

“It’s his city I want, not his meager manhood.” She was growing angry, however. If I ignore this any longer, my own people will think me weak. Yet who could she send? She needed Daario as much as she did her bloodriders. Without the flamboyant Tyroshi, she had no hold on the Stormcrows, many of whom had been followers of Prendahl na Ghezn and Sallor the Bald.

~

And unlike Ser Jorah, Daario, Brown Ben, and her three bloodriders, the eunuch did not lead troops, plan battles, or give her counsel. He does nothing but eat and boast and bellow at Arstan. Belwas was the man she could most easily spare. And it was time she learned what sort of protector Magister Illyrio had sent her.

~

“So much for the hero of Meereen,” said Daario, laughing.

“A victory without meaning,” Ser Jorah cautioned. “We will not win Meereen by killing its defenders one at a time.”

“No,” Dany agreed, “but I’m pleased we killed this one.”

~

“I must have this city,” she told them, sitting crosslegged on a pile of cushions, her dragons all about her. Irri and Jhiqui poured wine. “Her granaries are full to bursting. There are figs and dates and olives growing on the terraces of her pyramids, and casks of salt fish and smoked meat buried in her cellars.”

“And fat chests of gold, silver, and gemstones as well,” Daario reminded them. “Let us not forget the gemstones.”

~

Daario Naharis gave Grey Worm a smile. “Perhaps the Unsullied should wield the axes. Boiling oil feels like no more than a warm bath to you, I have heard.”

“This is false.” Grey Worm did not return the smile.

~

Daario Naharis laughed. “As nasty as you, when you came crawling out? If any man were fool enough to try this, every slaver in Meereen would smell them the moment they emerged.”

Brown Ben shrugged. “Her Grace asked if there was a way in, so I told her ... but Ben Plumm isn’t going down in them sewers again, not for all the gold in the Seven Kingdoms. If there’s others want to try it, though, they’re welcome.”

Aggo, Jhogo, and Grey Worm all tried to speak at once, but Dany raised her hand for silence. “These sewers do not sound promising.”

~

“If you were grown,” she told Drogon, scratching him between the horns, “I’d fly you over the walls and melt that harpy down to slag.” But it would be years before her dragons were large enough to ride. And when they are, who shall ride them? The dragon has three heads, but I have only one. She thought of Daario. If ever there was a man who could rape a woman with his eyes ...

To be sure, she was just as guilty. Dany found herself stealing looks at the Tyroshi when her captains came to council, and sometimes at night she remembered the way his gold tooth glittered when he smiled. That, and his eyes. His bright blue eyes. On the road from Yunkai, Daario had brought her a flower or a sprig of some plant every evening when he made his report ... to help her learn the land, he said. Waspwillow, dusky roses, wild mint, lady’s lace, daggerleaf, broom, prickly ben, harpy’s gold ... He tried to spare me the sight of the dead children too. He should not have done that, but he meant it kindly. And Daario Naharis made her laugh, which Ser Jorah never did.

Dany tried to imagine what it would be like if she allowed Daario to kiss her, the way Jorah had kissed her on the ship. The thought was exciting and disturbing, both at once. It is too great a risk. The Tyroshi sellsword was not a good man, no one needed to tell her that. Under the smiles and the jests he was dangerous, even cruel. Sallor and Prendahl had woken one morning as his partners; that very night he’d given her their heads. Khal Drogo could be cruel as well, and there was never a man more dangerous. She had come to love him all the same. Could I love Daario? What would it mean, if I took him into my bed? Would that make him one of the heads of the dragon? Ser Jorah would be angry, she knew, but he was the one who’d said she had to take two husbands. Perhaps I should marry them both and be done with it.

~

“We’ll take Arstan. I do not mean to leave the camps.” She had no enemies among her children. And the old squire would not talk too much as Belwas would, or look at her like Daario.

ASOS Daenerys IV

Dany studied them as Irri and Jhiqui poured the wine. Prendahl na Ghezn was a thickset Ghiscari with a broad face and dark hair going grey; Sallor the Bald had a twisting scar across his pale Qartheen cheek; and Daario Naharis was flamboyant even for a Tyroshi. His beard was cut into three prongs and dyed blue, the same color as his eyes and the curly hair that fell to his collar. His pointed mustachios were painted gold. His clothes were all shades of yellow; a foam of Myrish lace the color of butter spilled from his collar and cuffs, his doublet was sewn with brass medallions in the shape of dandelions, and ornamental goldwork crawled up his high leather boots to his thighs. Gloves of soft yellow suede were tucked into a belt of gilded rings, and his fingernails were enameled blue.

~

The Stormcrow captains rose in unison. “Our answer is no,” said Prendahl na Ghezn. His fellows followed him out of the tent ... but Daario Naharis glanced back as he left, and inclined his head in polite farewell.

~

Near midnight, she got a scare when Ser Jorah bulled his way past Strong Belwas. “The Unsullied caught one of the sellswords trying to sneak into the camp.”

“A spy?” That frightened her. If they’d caught one, how many others might have gotten away?

“He claims to come bearing gifts. It’s the yellow fool with the blue hair.”

Daario Naharis. “That one. I’ll hear him, then.”

When the exile knight delivered him, she asked herself whether two men had ever been so different. The Tyroshi was fair where Ser Jorah was swarthy; lithe where the knight was brawny; graced with flowing locks where the other was balding, yet smooth-skinned where Mormont was hairy. And her knight dressed plainly while this other made a peacock look drab, though he had thrown a heavy black cloak over his bright yellow finery for this visit. He carried a heavy canvas sack slung over one shoulder.

“Khaleesi,” he cried, “I bring gifts and glad tidings. The Stormcrows are yours.” A golden tooth gleamed in his mouth when he smiled. “And so is Daario Naharis!”

Dany was dubious. If this Tyroshi had come to spy, this declaration might be no more than a desperate plot to save his head. “What do Prendahl na Ghezn and Sallor say of this?”

“Little.” Daario upended the sack, and the heads of Sallor the Bald and Prendahl na Ghezn spilled out upon her carpets. “My gifts to the dragon queen.”

Viserion sniffed the blood leaking from Prendahl’s neck, and let loose a gout of flame that took the dead man full in the face, blackening and blistering his bloodless cheeks. Drogon and Rhaegal stirred at the smell of roasted meat.

“You did this?” Dany asked queasily.

“None other.” If her dragons discomfited Daario Naharis, he hid it well. For all the mind he paid them, they might have been three kittens playing with a mouse.

“Why?”

“Because you are so beautiful.” His hands were large and strong, and there was something in his hard blue eyes and great curving nose that suggested the fierceness of some splendid bird of prey. “Prendahl talked too much and said too little.” His garb, rich as it was, had seen hard wear; salt stains patterned his boots, the enamel of his nails was chipped, his lace was soiled by sweat, and she could see where the end of his cloak was fraying. “And Sallor picked his nose as if his snot was gold.” He stood with his hands crossed at the wrists, his palms resting on the pommels of his blades; a curving Dothraki arakh on his left hip, a Myrish stiletto on his right. Their hilts were a matched pair of golden women, naked and wanton.

“Are you skilled in the use of those handsome blades?” Dany asked him.

“Prendahl and Sallor would tell you so, if dead men could talk. I count no day as lived unless I have loved a woman, slain a foeman, and eaten a fine meal ... and the days that I have lived are as numberless as the stars in the sky. I make of slaughter a thing of beauty, and many a tumbler and fire dancer has wept to the gods that they might be half so quick, a quarter so graceful. I would tell you the names of all the men I have slain, but before I could finish your dragons would grow large as castles, the walls of Yunkai would crumble into yellow dust, and winter would come and go and come again.”

Dany laughed. She liked the swagger she saw in this Daario Naharis. “Draw your sword and swear it to my service.”

In a blink, Daario’s arakh was free of its sheath. His submission was as outrageous as the rest of him, a great swoop that brought his face down to her toes. “My sword is yours. My life is yours. My love is yours. My blood, my body, my songs, you own them all. I live and die at your command, fair queen.”

“Then live,” Dany said, “and fight for me tonight.”

“That would not be wise, my queen.” Ser Jorah gave Daario a cold, hard stare. “Keep this one here under guard until the battle’s fought and won.”

She considered a moment, then shook her head. “If he can give us the Stormcrows, surprise is certain.”

“And if he betrays you, surprise is lost.”

Dany looked down at the sellsword again. He gave her such a smile that she flushed and turned away. “He won’t.”

“How can you know that?”

She pointed to the lumps of blackened flesh the dragons were consuming, bite by bloody bite. “I would call that proof of his sincerity. Daario Naharis, have your Stormcrows ready to strike the Yunkish rear when my attack begins. Can you get back safely?”

“If they stop me, I will say I have been scouting, and saw nothing.” The Tyroshi rose to his feet, bowed, and swept out.

~

Ser Jorah Mormont lingered. “Your Grace,” he said, too bluntly, “that was a mistake. We know nothing of this man—”

“We know that he is a great fighter.”

“A great talker, you mean.”

“He brings us the Stormcrows.” And he has blue eyes.

“Five hundred sellswords of uncertain loyalty.”

“All loyalties are uncertain in such times as these,” Dany reminded him. And I shall be betrayed twice more, once for gold and once for love.

“Daenerys, I am thrice your age,” Ser Jorah said. “I have seen how false men are. Very few are worthy of trust, and Daario Naharis is not one of them. Even his beard wears false colors.”

That angered her. “Whilst you have an honest beard, is that what you are telling me? You are the only man I should ever trust?” 

[a-l-ias]

Do You Even Know My Name?

(The Evolution of Peter Parker’s Names) Part I of IX

Alright, y’all, this has been a long time coming. This has been sitting in my drafts for about six months, and I’ve been too scared to post it, mostly because of who I wrote it for:

@yellowdistress, this is for you. All your stories and patience and headcanons and kindness touches everyone that has even just dipped their toes in the water of the Irondad fandom. You give us happiness and angst, comfort and hurt, fluff and love. Everything you do for us is unequaled, and nothing we can do will ever be able to repay you, but this is an attempt. I love you, Denni, and everything you do <3 <3 <3

Hopefully you enjoy it XD

(I am so rusty, I haven’t written to post in, like, two years)

I. Kid

It wasn’t anything personal, it was simply just how Tony operated. Perhaps it was a firm, remaining bulwark from his years as Howard’s verbal punching bag, or maybe a shield formed from an innate fear of emotion and an irrational aversion to intimacy -- whatever the reason, though, he flat-out refused to use people’s real names.

His best friend wasn’t James or Rhodes, he was Rhodey or Platypus or Honeybear.

His fiance wasn’t Virginia, she was Pepper or Honey or Babe.

Happy was Happy, not Harold. Cap was Capscicle, not Steve. Brucie, Point-Break, Legolas, Eye-Patch, Aunt-Hottie -- it was almost as if he never learned their real names in the first place. Tony himself wasn’t even quite sure why he did this, but it was an instinct. It made him feel safer, less vulnerable, with the threat of actually acknowledging his care for a person removed along with their name. Retrospectively, it was a rather ridiculous notion, because somewhere along the line, The Tony Stark giving you a nickname translated into “aww, he cares,” instead of “back off, bitch.” While Pepper certainly realized this, and Rhodey accepted it after Sourpatch had indelibly stuck, Tony himself seemed hopelessly oblivious to his underlying declarations of love.

Which is why, over the course of almost two years, he didn’t realise his utter and complete devotion to one excitable teenaged tornado.

According to Pepper, he’d held onto “kid” entirely too long. “Trust me, kid”... “I did listen, kid”... “where’d you come from, kid”...it all seemed -- to her, anyway -- like such a desperate attempt to distance himself. But, again, it was comforting: knowing that no matter what he did, this little, naive human being, who looked at him like he was the glowing savior of the Earth descending from the sky, would never be broken by the unavoidable Stark ability to ruin childhoods.

His physics Professor sophomore year at MIT called him kid. The butler Howard hired two weeks after Jarvis’ death called him kid. Neither of them particularly cared about him, but they hadn’t hurt him either.

He figured “kid” was a good compromise.

So he used it whenever he needed to remind himself that he didn’t give a shit about this kid, besides whether or not he ended up as spider-juice on the 5th avenue sidewalk. Lately, he’d had to pinch himself more and more.

God, this kid. This kid with his contagious grins and unflappable joy and persistent optimism. This kid with a heart as big as the moon and morals to rival those of Steve Rogers and brown eyes so wide, so wondrous. The more time Tony spent with him, the thinner he felt his emotional walls getting, and the thinner he felt his walls getting, the more stubbornly he pushed the kid away. It wasn’t fair to either of them, if he was being honest. Peter was simply looking for some sort of guidance. May was a wonderful, integral figure in Peter’s life, but even after all she’d been through, she still had her limits. What was she supposed to do when Peter woke up in the middle of the night with blood-curdling screams, convinced that the ceiling was falling down? What was she supposed to do when Peter came home crushed by the self-blame of only being two seconds from saving that jumper? Whereas May could offer the wisest, most sage advice about struggling through life, Tony was there as support when all the nightmares and guilt and trauma finally caught up. May couldn’t raise a superhero alone; it was part of The Deal. And it wasn’t fair to make Peter feel like he couldn’t go to Tony for his problems.

But Tony, as much as he hated to admit it, was scared of becoming attached. It had only been a few months since one of his best friends drove a shield through his chest and left him to freeze to death in Siberia, after all. Tony was a naturally guarded person. So he clung to “kid” like Cliffhanger to his branch and scoffed at Pepper’s insistence that he had a deeper connection to Parker than he let on.

But somewhere along the line, the meaning of the nickname shifted.

Sure, he never called the kid “Peter” or “Parker” or -- god forbid -- “Pete,” but just saying “kid” somehow made his voice soft and his tone affectionate and his eyes crinkle in the way he hated, because it showed all those stress-wrinkles.

Pepper pointed it out first after Karen had interrupted their date night with an extremely concerning vitals update. It had been a really nice night, too — candles and fresh bread and Prosciutto Carbonara that could give his mother’s a run for its money —before she’d flashed him that knowing smirk and rolled her eyes as he mouthed “what” over the receiver, listening to the call ring out.

“Shit-brained kid,” he muttered. He reopened the message from Karen and glanced at the steadily dropping blood-percentage.

Pepper raised her eyebrows over her wine. “Any reason why you aren’t running out of here?” she asked.

Tony heaved a heavy sigh, feeling the slowly-growing-familiar weight of crazed worry clunk on his shoulders.

He stuttered for words, for a second. Sorry, honey, I’ve been blowing you off for 5 years now and it doesn’t look like that’s going to change and you’re the flipping best person that’s ever lived, constantly putting up with my everlasting BS. She saved him with a nod towards the door, and soft smile, and a hand over his.

He loved this woman so freaking much.

With a quick peck on her cheek, he breezed out the door of the restaurant. His suit — compacted now in a wristwatch he was incredibly proud of, if he says so himself — folded around him, comforting, bolstering. FRIDAY blipped into his heads-up, shuffled over to make room for Karen.

Mr. Stark, I suggest calling emergency response, Peter is now at 26% blood-loss.

Before Tony had any time to react, FRIDAY interrupted, Calling Dr. Cho now, prepping medical equipment and OR. Cho would like you to know that her ER team is on its way to Spider-Man’s location. He’d never been more grateful for the utter and complete genius FRIDAY was.

He let himself relax slightly, because doctors meant survival for this idiotic teenager. Vaguely he remembered their argument as the Staten Island ferry sank into the harbour, thought of May’s angry face and demands for safety.

New determination sparked in his mind. His repulsors fired, and he was zipping into the night.

||

He found the Kid lying in a pile of fruit scraps behind the Broncs Women’s Shelter. He didn’t consider the implications, didn’t recognise the group of shy residents peeking at them through the darkened window. He just retracted the suit, stumbled forward desperately, because the rinds and peels were painted red, the sidewalk stained with a growing puddle of blood. It rippled outward from Spider-Man’s prone form. Supine, pallid, and skewered by a large, serrated hunting knife.

Tony blanched. Felt like he was going to hurl. “Oh...good...god…” he mumbled, horrified. He fell quickly to his knees, numb enough to everything but this dying kid that the hard smack of the sidewalk against his shins didn’t faze him.

He had no idea what he was supposed to do. Most of Iron Man’s injuries involved bruises: broken ribs, sprained joints, concussions, fractured bones. In all his years as a reckless “superhero,” he’d never gotten impaled.

Barton had, during the fight with Strucker. Nat had, by way of a particularly gruelling torture session. Steve, once, with fly-away detritus — but Tony had long since forced himself to forget those memories...all the worry he’d had for friends who’d betrayed him. So he floundered, hands hovering over the leather-wrapped hilt sticking straight up out of the Kid’s abdomen towards the sky like an arrow directing his impendingly separating soul to heaven.

The thought freaked Tony out even more. His breaths quickened, his vision blurred. Too late, he was recognising the tell-tale signs of a panic attack.

Now is not the time for this, Stark. Think, damnit!

Blood. There was blood seeping out from underneath him. That...couldn’t be good. If blood was pooling underneath the Kid, that meant there was a wound in his back. So the knife went the whole way through. There was no removing it — Tony remembered that much from whatever first aid course he’d been forced to take — one should never remove the object of impalement. That would let the blood flow more freely. Obviously, not too desired.

But blood was running anyway — in rivulets down the Kid’s suit, in waves over his hips. It occurred to Tony that this enhanced being probably had an enhanced metabolism, which meant blood rushing to the wound quicker.

Great. Kid probably couldn’t get drunk, but he sure-as-hell could bleed-out faster than a normal person.

He had to stem the flow. Shakily, his hands found his blazer and he yanked it off. Steeling himself, he wrapped the jacket around the hilt and pressed. Hard.

The Kid jerked back to consciousness with a strangled scream, and Tony was hurried to calm him down.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s alright, it’s alright,” he assured, desperately, because the Kid was beginning to thrash. One of his arms knocked weakly against Tony’s — deliberately, Tony’d later assume, to attempt to get the older man to stop pushing on the wound.

“Stop it, Kid, stop it.” There was no force to his words, no thought, either. It was as if Tony was watching, removed by a wall of panic and hysteria, and his instincts had taken over — decided that under no circumstances was the Kid gonna sense Tony’s helplessness, because his voice sounded firm, confident, if tinny and far-away, to his ears.

Tony’s fingers were cold and tingly, his head buzzed and filled with cotton. His eyes focused, unwittingly, on the spreading circle of blood beneath his knees.

Shit, someone inside him thought, the other side isn’t covered.

And so he grabbed one of the Kid’s flailing wrists, gently, between two fingers, and wrapped his palm around the soaked blazer.

“Alright, kid, here’s what’s gonna happen: I’m gonna turn you on your side — it’s gonna hurt, it really will — but we’re gonna check out the back, gonna plug that side, too.”

He wasn’t sure if the Kid registered what he’d said, but the responding moan, the slight jerk of limbs in resistance, was enough for Tony. Pressing once more against his frigid fingers, Tony wedged his  s under the Kid’s back and rolled him over.

He cried out — a horrifying, heartaching sob of pain — as Tony ripped off his button-down, leaving him in only the white undershirt. The previously pristine shirt had bright red staining up and down the sleeves. The collar had ripped in Tony’s hurry to get it off, and he tails were scuffed with New York alley dirt. None of it stopped him as he shoved the wadded fabric against the bright bloodstain (stubbornly ignoring the glint of metal torn through the suit). With a shallow breath out, he roughly gripped the Kid’s shoulders and turned him back over, hoping the sidewalk would put enough pressure against the cloth.

“F-F-FRI,” he exhaled stutteringly. “ETA on the emergency crew.”

He almost didn’t hear her response over the Kid’s huge sob when he swapped their hands on the front of the wound. He was pressing again, and the Kid’s hands found his biceps, gripped with surprising strength for someone with — he checked his watch — 37% bloodloss. The Kid’s hands were coated in his own blood. They left handprints, like a brand of failure, against Tony’s skin.

3 minutes. He could do this for 3 more minutes.

Off in the distance, he could hear the subtle roar of the Quinjet’s engines; although, perhaps he was imagining it in panic. Nevertheless, it gave him hope.

Unknowingly, he’d begun talking to the Kid. He tuned in to it like shuffling through radio stations.

“You’re gonna be okay, kid, just hang in there. Just keep breathing — I know! I know it hurts, but if you wanna see May again, or that little friend of yours...what’sit’s...Fred? Greg? Something like that. You just gotta hold on, please, God, hold on kid…”

It was crazy, how in that moment, his brain finally registered what Pepper had been saying. Kneeling over this kid, hearing the Quinjet land and doctors barking orders and feeling hands haul him to his feet by his armpits, he finally listened to the softness, the tenderness, the care and emotion and worry behind his chosen nomer for one Peter Parker.

He watched the tiny, whimpering form of the Kid wheeled into the jet on a gurney. He sat when one of the EMTs pushed him onto a crate. He nodded when the sterile-smelling man asked him if he was alright. He curled into the blanket when it was placed around his shoulders.

Shock, someone said, far off. Get him back home, someone else said.

Home sounded good. It sounded safe. But the Kid...his Kid...his responsibility since he walked into the Parkers’ apartment last spring and basically blackmailed Peter into coming to Berlin with him...his responsibility was on that jet, and he was dying.

In a burst of movement, Tony was up, dropping the blanket and dodging the nurse’s attempt to sit him back down. The gangway was retracting, but Tony jumped the rising gap, jogged into the hull. They’d hooked the Kid up with an IV drip and several monitors. An anesthesiologist was coaxing the Kid to let the sedative take hold. The Kid, bless him, was trying to fight back, eyes wide and watering.

Tony approached him and gripped the hand scrabbling at the mask over his nose and mouth. The Kid’s eyes landed on him, and a funny expression overtook his features. His face relaxed, he stopped fighting. His eyes softened, lids slipping closed. Tony watched as the Kid relented to the pull of sleep, neither of their eyes leaving the other’s.

Peter felt safe, he suddenly realised. The Kid saw him, and felt safe.

Tony’s heart ached for a second, beating rapidly and stutteringly. He allowed himself to breathe for the first time since landing in the alley. Peter was safe, because Tony was there, still gripping his hand, and the doctors were bustling, working on stopping the blood flow and removing the knife, and the Kid had enhanced healing that would take care of what the doctors couldn’t.

An inexplicable, wholly-encompassing feeling of relief washed over Tony. He squeezed Peter’s hand in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

“Sweet dreams, Kid,” he mumbled, letting every ounce of voice softness and tone affection and eye crinkles he had in him flood his being. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Hope you enjoy it Denni!

(tagging others in hopes that they’ll check out @yellowdistress, too, unless they already have, then amazing!: @fan-writer02, @aceofstars16, @mandaloriandragontrainer, @madasthesea, @hairasuntouchedaspartoftheamazon, @the-fanaddict, and @athingofvikings

[vnprodigal]

17 running from innocence like it's a lion.  Nipping at my heels but I'm young, so I outrun 'em ! Jailbait baby, hunting men in their 20s. Cupid's shooting arrows but I'm cold, so I outgun him.  Bad boy talking fast, talking dirty.    He tells me that I'm hot so I tell him that I love him     &    he says, "Girls your age Never mean what they say" I've got a renegade heart    &   it's screaming his name. then it beats like you've got time to kill baby, don't go jump the gun. Live fast while you're young, honey. Don't go chasing love, chasing love 

i. 100 bad - tommy genesis, charli xcx ii. two fingers - jake bugg  iii. porcelain - red hot chili peppers  iv. worn - tenth avenue north v. dick in the air - peaches vi. bad habit - the kooks vii. you should know where i’m coming from - banks  viii. girls your age - transviolet ix. birthday selena gomez x. marijuana - awkwafina xi. you are more - tenth avenue north xii. east of eden - zella day

aka a playlist that sings about Jesus redeeming you to dicks in the air

[eos-teric]

THE PATHS

Every traveler needs a map... or some sort of signal. Many paths converge at the crossroads: which one will you choose today?

🗺️ The Meadow of Knowledge

→ FOOTPRINTS first steps ♦ tips • routine • DIY • books • masterposts

→ GROVE OF ENERGY elements ♦ Air • Fire • Water • Earth • Æther energy ♦ centering • charging • grounding • programing meditation ♦ astral plane • chakras • colors

→ ANCIENT STELE etimology • Kabbalah • numerology Elder Futhark • Greek • Latin • Runic codex ♦ Elementarium

🗺️ The Warehouse Tree

→ TOOLS & EQUIPMENT altar • cauldron • grimoire • wand • candles • incense dreamcatcher • talismans • jewellery • travel kit

→ CRYSTALS & METALS crystals • metals ♦ Agate • Amazonite • Amethyst • Ametrine • Apatite • Aquamarine • Aventurine • Bloodstone • Calcite • Carnelian • Citrine • Emerald • Fluorite • Fuchsite • Garnet • Gold • Hematite • Iron • Jade • Lapis lazuli • Malachite • Obsidian • Onyx • Opal • Peridot • Pyrite • Quartz • clear Quartz • rose Quartz • smoky Quartz • Ruby • Salt • black Salt • pink Salt • Selenite • Silver • Sodalite • Tiger’s eye • Topaz • black Tourmaline • green Tourmaline • other crystals

→ HERBS & PLANTS herbs • plants ♦ Aloe • Basil • Bamboo • Cactus • Chamomile • Cinnamon • Clove • Coffee • Cotton • Cypress • Daisy • Dandelion • Dill • Fennel • Fern • Garlic • Ginger • Grass • Heater • Holly • Ivy • Laurel • Lavender • Lilac • Lily • Mint • Mugwort • Nutmeg • Oak • Parsley • black Pepper • Peppermint • Pine • Rose • Rosemary • Sage • Sandalwood • Sunflower • Tea • Thyme • Vanilla • Vervain • other herbs

→ FOOD & DRINKS food • recipes ♦ Almond • Apple • Apricot • Banana • Blackberry • Blueberry • Bread • Cedar • Cheese • Cherry • Chilli pepper • Cranberry • Cucumber • Grape • Grapefruit • Hazelnut • Honey • Lemon • Lime • Mango • Milk • Oil • Olive • Onion • Orange • Peach • Pear • Pepper • Pineapple • Plum • Pomegranate • Potato • Pumpkin • Raspberry • Rice • Rum • Strawberry • Sugar • Vinegar • Vodka • Walnut • Watermelon • Whisky • Wine • Yarrow • other food

→ OTHER INGREDIENTS Ash • Bones • Dirt • Eggshells • Essential oils • Sand • Seashells

🗺️ The Craft Grotto

→ PRACTICE circle ♦ spells • charms • rituals • hexes • curses baths • emojis • jars • potions • powders • poppets • sigils

→ FRESCO OF INTENTS cleansing • protection • banishment • weather mind ♦ creativity • motivation • memory • focus • sleep • dreams • tranquillity sociality ♦ friendship • attraction • love • passion healing • growth • strenght • motion luck • wealth • success

→ ALTAR OF BEINGS deities • devotion ♦ Aphrodite • Hades • Hecate • Hera • Hestia entities • folklore ♦ angels • cryptids • demons • spirits animals ♦ familiar

🗺️ The Evergreen Observatory

→ WOODEN CALENDAR January • February • March • April • May • June • July • August • September • October • November • December Sabbat • Esbat ♦ Samhain • Yule • Imbolc • Ostara • Beltane • Litha • Lughnasadh • Mabon Seasons ♦ Spring • Summer • Autumn • Winter

→ ARMILLARY SPHERE Sun • Moon • Mercury • Venus • Mars • Jupiter • Saturn • Uranus • Neptune • Pluto celestial bodies • eclipse • stars

→ PLANETARY CRYSTAL horoscopy ♦ aspects • houses Aries • Taurus • Gemini • Cancer • Leo • Virgo • Libra • Scorpio • Sagittarius • Capricorn • Aquarius • Pisces

🗺️ The path that doesn't exist yet

→ OVER THERE divination ♦ playing cards • runes • pendulum • ouija cleromancy • hydromancy • palmistry • pyromancy • scrying • stichomancy • tasseomancy readings ♦ personal readings • requested readings (+ free tarot readings)

→ TAROT VALLEY Cards • Spreads • Tips 0 • I • II • III • IV • V • VI • VII • VIII • IX • X • XI • XII • XIII • XIV • XV • XVI • XVII • XVIII • XIX • XX • XXI Wands • Cups • Swords • Pentacles Golden Botticelli Tarot • Penny Dreadful Tarot • Prisma Visions Tarot • Impressionist Tarot • Stained Glass Tarot

🗺️ The Stone Parlor

→ GARDEN OF BEAUTY æsthetic ♦ landscapes • paintings • sculptures quotes • positive thoughts • music • humorous

→ BULLETIN BOARD my post (+ Eos, witchblr) • personal ♦ my lessons • my spreads • my spells etc. answers • feedbacks • fellow witches • witch family

→ KEEPER'S PARCHMENT ask me ♦ Halloween Asks • Nosy Major Arcana Asks • Soft Asks • Tarot Asks challenge ♦ Autumn Tarot quiz • reblog game