#putting the commander to bed

[zagreuses-art]

Chapter 3: A little advice can be a dangerous thing (posted here on AO3)

"Vimes ran ahead of his pack all the way to Silt Street, even outpacing the racing trolls, not only because he should have been on the scene twenty minutes ago, but also because he had a vain hope that if he ran fast enough, he could somehow leave behind the memory of his name held title-less and intimate in Havelock Vetinari’s mouth."

[ID: two pencil sketches with digital coloring. The first is a recreation of the "you can't catch me gay thoughts" meme, Vimes in his full guard armor is running, glowering at a thought bubble behind him and yelling "you can't catch me submissive thoughts". The thought bubble has another Vimes in it, with a dreamy expression, saying "no but Sybil could, she's so big and strong she could catch you and pin you down and then she and Vetinari could" then some censor boxes. The second sketch shows a blushing Vimes smacking Vetinari's hand away from himself, Vetinari looks very pleased with himself. Above them some half sketches of Vetinari's face are visible. End ID]

[sparkly-angell]

Yall Discworld fandom I need you guys to check out this fic right here

It's a Samuel Vimes/Sybil Ramkin/Havelock Vetinari romance story but it's also a murder mystery. The fic manages to mix all these aspects seemingly into a story that has a really close caliber as the guards books (i had to stop reading fifth elephant to focus on the fic, yes, I was mixing both stories)

Here's the summary:

It began with a quiet confession from Lord Vetinari, and Lady Sybil making a decision about what to do with it. Vimes is exhausted, and at once frightened by and drawn to the changes that the two are introducing to his life. But then dwarfs around the city begin to go mad and hallucinate themselves into a violent frenzy, and a brutal murder is committed in the pouring rain. Maybe, just maybe, Vimes can figure it all out before the madness and the rage gets him too.

It's explicit, it's kinky, it's about finding yourself and loving/accepting yourself, but also there are some weird fucking things going around Ankh-Morpork that are unrelated... Until they aren't anymore.

The characters are all So In Character, they are well thought and they have their own depths and motivations, it's beautifully done.

Putting the Commander to Bed should be a must read between Jingo and Fifth Elephant. It's all I'm saying.

[burnsopale]

Cut scene from PtCtB: swamp dragons

It was said that cats and dogs could sense changes in their owner’s mood, and would comfort you if you were having a bad day.

Swamp dragons were a lot less intelligent than other pets, but they were capable, in lucid moments, of a great deal of love, especially towards the people who gave them treats.

The only problem with being cuddled by a swamp dragon was that their drool was corrosive, their claws could rend wood, and they might explode at any time.

Sam and Sybil just sort of lived with that. Vimes was used to wearing steel-toed slippers around the house to make sure no one ate his toes when he stuck them under the dinner table. He had resigned himself to going through an endless parade of new trousers, as the old ones were slashed, chewed and dribbled on. And he dutifully let the little ones ride around on his shoulder while he re-rigged and adjusted the traps on the roof, to get them used to shoulder-sitting before they were given to new owners.

That day, he came home to find his wife buried in fish-eyed, scaly critters. They were in her lap, on her shoulders, on the back of the chair, and climbing her legs. A purple dam put her head back and gave a mournful wail, a sound somewhere between a banshee and a goose. A round, green baby-dragon rolled backwards off the armrest and lay on the carpet looking at Vimes upside down.

Upon noticing daddy’s arrival, a few of them waddled over to circle and sniff him, peer blearily up to see if he was dangerous, and, regardless of whether or not he was, if he had brought treats. In a sense, since anything can kill a swamp dragon, it is also true that nothing can kill a swamp dragon; if a knight had brandished a sword against this lot, they would have eaten it. And then his armour. And then his horse.

Sybil was sitting with her arms around Dribble, her face against his. He was tucked into the crook of her neck and appeared to be asleep despite the chorus of fluting and the occasional wail from the dam.

Vimes waited, but Sybil did not look up.

He drew a deep breath and let it out again.

“Alright, you lot, time for bed,” he said, picking up Scalebard Jumpforjoy XVII under one arm and hoisting Measle Moonbeam up onto his shoulder, where she dug her claws in and trembled in her perpetual anxiety.

The purple dam wailed again.

“All of you,” Vimes said.

[d8tl55c]

[zagreuses-toast]

@the-most-adorkable-smile ok so, first of all welcome to the Middle Aged Men Feelings Zone, I hope you enjoy your stay. secondly I am a strong believer in Sam/Sybil/vetinari, they all have two hands, so most of my favorites reflect that, but I'll try and make sure there's diversity in these recs. Also as always mind the tags, some are more explicit than others

Putting The Commander to Bed by Judin: this is a long multi chapter fic that both explores the vetinari/vimes/Sybil dynamic that will tear your heart out AND tells a very compelling watch style murder mystery plot. It's the fic that sold me on vetinari/Sybil as a ship in its own right, and I love it to pieces (I'm actually doing a project illustrating a scene from every chapter) (check out Judin's other stuff too, especially Up and Down the Minaret it's all good)

Vetinari's Terrier by Wearerofthehat: a series of little vignettes about the whole Terrier Thing, with ambiguousness but definitley gay. Great character voices IMO

Honed by melannen: Vimes shaves Vetinari, you could cut the tension with a, well, razor I guess. This one is a solid banger, 10/10

Will That Be All by dictionary writes: vimes and vetinari dance! This one's one-sided, with Vetinari enjoying what he can get and Vimes blissfully unawares (the authors other stuff is mostly drumknott/vetinari, and very good at that)

On the Difference between Heat and Light by Malfaisant: enemies try to use Vimes, or more accurately, the Summoning Dark inside him, to kill Vetinari, but he finds a clever solution. (It's fucking, the solution is fucking) Has some great angst and character stuff

Cravings by Trotzkopf: part of a series, very emotional and also horny, it doesn't shy away from the messiness that can come as a consequence of Vetinari and Vimes getting together (i.e. heartbreak and divorce) . But it has lots of fluffiness, joy, and humor too.

Whispers in the Greenery by watcher_by_the_wayside: a lovely Vetinari/vimes/Sybil long fic, with vetinari taking the part of Lovesick Ingenue, which may seem a bit out of character but remember that he can be very dramatic when the mood strikes him. It also has some fun Flower Language stuff

Should I read gay-ass Vimes/Vetinari fics?

... should I write gay-ass Vimes/Vetinari fics?

[varpusvaras]

Gifts from wife: a very inspiring magnet for my fridge, so I can be motivated every morning, and wifu bust pillow

[puthyflapps]

“I’ll always be with you”

[ringofdoubt]

Thought about how under qualified Cullen is to be the Inquisitions commander. How much pressure he's under. Then I thought about how Warden Loghain is at Skyhold and could possibly a) relate to that experience and b) offer some advice as an experienced general.

[crimeronan]

i cannot BELIEVE you guys are fandom infighting over darius discourse right now. 

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

Kirk and spock are soooo low maintenence you have no idea

[zagreuses-art]

Chapter 11: Merry Meetings (here on AO3)

“Here comes the lift,” Lady Rust said with a dazzling smile, and turned back to the dance floor.

Merrylee did the same, though she knew what she would see; poor Lady Sybil and Lord Vetinari would simply have to do the turn as normal like the old people-

Lady Sybil put her arm around Lord Vetinari’s waist and lifted him easily into the air, turning around with him in a graceful swirl of skirts, and for a moment, Lord Vetinari smiled in delight, fully and openly. A handful of couples stumbled, and one fell over in sheer surprise, for it was a sight that, unbeknownst to Merrylee, no one in that room had seen before.

Lady Rust’s face was white with rage."

[ID's in Alt] a big illustration for my favorite scene in my favorite chapter

[burnsopale]

Just wanted to say thanks so much for your lovely tags on my VetVimes and VetVimesSybil art ❤️ you absolutely nailed the vibes for the sleepy couch scene and it made me very happy!

And also wanted to say that fun fact; my partner's pitch of and reaction to Putting The Commander To Bed is what finally got me to start reading the City Watch books after I've putting it off so long (for no real reason other than books are hard) so that I could read the fic too because it sounded so incredibly up my alley. And I have been devouring the series since the start of the year and I love it, so thank you for that!! I haven't done this much reading or creating in forever!!

I recently got the point in canon where I can read your fic without spoilers too and I am loving it immensely! You write them so well it lives in my brain! I want to shake Vimes around and then put him in bed under several blankets!

You guys are all being so nice to me these days! Aaaaaah!

First of all, tell your partner thank you from me for pitching the fic to you. :D

Discworld is fantastic for getting those creative juices flowing. I'm so happy for you! And happy for the fandom cause we get amazing art from it! I adore what I've seen so far and hope you bless us with more!

Also hurray, you like the fic! I'm so glad! Thank you! Vimes does indeed need to be given a good shaking and then a proper tuck into bed.

[kamenriderw]

UIUIH OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH iits 4 am

[bi-writes]

thinking about fucking your lieutenant without taking any of your clothes off. (18+)

let's get one thing straight--it's not that you don't want to take your clothes off. it's that ghost doesn't.

he hasn't gotten over it. you're not sure what it is, but you felt it when you tried to put your hands under his tact vest for the first time--the tension of his body, the flinch that had you pulling your hands back as if your touch had burned him. you drool over your lieutenant, you have fucked yourself to stupidity many nights just thinking about him, but you don't want to cross any lines.

you did the mature thing--you asked. you asked him what it would take. what he might let you do. what he might be comfortable with. he swallows, voice low and gravelly, and he tells you that you can do whatever you want with him, but he doesn't want to take anything off.

fuck it, you think. suit yourself.

you can't help the noises. you're throwing your hips back, hands braced against the bedframe as you straddle your commanding officer. ghost is underneath you, knees propped up and boots planted flat on the bed, and he has his gloved hands rooted to your hips as you fit yourself right over his middle and bounce. it's a lot of effort to get off this way. with the added layers of clothes, you really have to put your back into it to get any stimulation on your clit, but once you found that sweet spot, the tip of his cock nudged against you just right, you found the momentum to give it to him good.

"fuck--" ghost chokes. you're so hot. your shirt is bunched up a little around your waist, and the neckline has dropped, and he's watching your tits bounce with your grinding hips as you chase your orgasm. he could tell you were close. as soon as you dragged your clit over the fat tip of him and found it, you became a fiend. your pace picked up, and he squeezed your ass with appreciation, and he couldn't look away from your tits, but he was sure you were wetting his cargos even fully-clothed.

"'m gonna come," you whine, and ghost fits his hand between your ass and squeezes, appreciating the fat of you as you show him just how good you'd ride his cock. your hips are working so hard, smooth, quick grinds that make his eyes roll back in his head.

"yeah? tha' good, innit?"

"oh--gonna come, gonna come--"

"give it t'me--"

you're shaking. you drop your weight on him, seeing stars, and you're buzzing with a dopey smile as you slow your hips. you kiss him through the mask, sticking your tongue out and licking over where his lips are before kissing him nice and sloppy.

when he turns you over, you just watch as he lowers himself down your body. with wide eyes, you're enraptured by the way he shoves your legs apart. he gazes down at you, mesmerized to see a wet spot on your cargos, and he hums before hiking the mask up over his nose and licking over his teeth.

"w-wait, ghost, what are you--ah!"

you jerk when a fat glob of his spit hits the seam of your zipper. he does it again, soaking the fabric, and you can't do anything but throw your head back and whine as he opens his mouth wide and shoves his face between your thighs.

it's really not so scary anymore. and now he needs the real thing.

[nochepsicodelica]

NSFW

"Don't forget how badly you said you wanted this when it gets to be too much, 'kay, mama?"

A warning that you paid no mind to and instead giggled at, because Toji kissed your knuckles and your forehead when he finished binding your wrists together. You thought he wouldn't be too hard on you, and even if he was, you have a trick up your sleeve. You know that if you beg hard enough with shimmering eyes, he becomes a little more lenient. He eases up on you and gentleness starts to seep into his actions.

Well, that didn't work. Not this time. This time, he wanted to give you everything you asked for and more.

"Fuck..." Toji groans. "Look at that, ma." He displays his cum soaked, glistening fingers and shows you an update on the juices that have made their way down his wrist. "Come on, open your eyes and look," he says, patting your thigh.

Your bottom lip quivers and your eyes flutter open, your dim, weary gaze darting to the face of the man inflicting all these varying sensations your body is feeling.

"Not at my mug. Look at my hand and my forearm," Toji instructs, trying hard not to smirk at how utterly debauched you look. You look like you're going to cry, again. "Messy girl, you did that."

You mumble something quiet and unintelligible, and like a shark, Toji devours your pathetic attempt to speak. "Louder. I know you can be louder, or do you need some encouragement?" He asks, ghosting the knuckle of his index finger along your slit, resulting in your body full on jolting.

"Sorry!" You cry out, loud enough to have Toji laughing at your frantic repetition. "I said-- said i'm sorry," you stutter out, your voice unsteady.

You're ruined, yet somehow, this is a sight that has Toji's heart racing, like he's falling in love with you for the millionth time. It puts him through a conflict. It makes him want to be nice to you, it also makes him want to add on to your ruin, but more than anything, it sadistically makes him want to see you cry, again.

"Don't be sorry. This is what you wanted, right?" Toji groans, quietly, as he lies back down on his stomach, eyes focusing on your glistening cunt, again. "Wanted me to make you cry from the intensity of it all? Said you could handle being overstimulated, didn't you, ma?" His thumb drags up your slit, slow enough to have your inner thighs trembling as he makes his way up towards your overly sensitive clit. "Stay there," he commands, when you squirm the slightest bit away from him. He goes again, this time, dragging the pads of his index and middle fingers through your slicked folds.

"T-Toji," you whimper, your abdomen clenching and quivering with every one of his touches. "Toji, I--" you gasp, feeling the warmth of his tongue dragging through your folds and when you feel his fingers grazing your entrance, you can't help but whimper in anticipation for what's to come.

"Why are you shaking?" Toji asks, looking up at you, condescendingly. You can't scramble quickly enough to respond, before he's feeding his fingers into your drooling cunt. "Wanna cum?" He asks, taking in the sight of your returning tears with a menacing smirk. You don't know what to say, because on one hand, you get another orgasm, but on the other hand, you know you are going to be pushed past pleasure. "Yeahhh, you do. Look at that pretty face. Gonna make you cum so hard," he purrs, curling his fingers inside of you.

You don't know if you'll make it out of this one. You feel like you're being launched into heaven every time he makes you cum with his fingers and his mouth, but it's an immediate, full speed plummet to hell when he keeps going—keeps rubbing your clit while you spasm and practically choke on your breaths.

"Right there?" Toji asks, noticing a shift in the sounds of your moans. They're higher in pitch, quicker, and constantly interrupted by your sharp gasps. "Oh fuck," he growls. "That's it, huh?"

"I-I'm--" you whimper, "--fuck, fuck." Your chest heaves, your back slightly arching off the bed. "Toji," you call, frenzied by the overwhelming sensations. "I'm gonna die..." you blurt. "G-Gonna die," you cry out, tears spilling down the corners of your eyes and treading down your cheeks.

Toji watches, amusedly, as you struggle to figure out what to do while he keeps building you up. The mobility of your hands is limited due to your wrists being bound together, but your palms are dented by your nails to all hell. You barely have control of your legs, because even though they aren't restrained, Toji handles them however he needs to in order to give you what you asked for without you trying to stop him.

"You're fine. You can take it," he says, over the lewd, squelching sound of his fingers pumping in and out of you. "Last one, and you're giving me ten seconds."

"N-No!"

"Yes," he insists. "It's the last one, gotta make it a-"

It's unexpected, the wet mess you make all over Toji's hand, your thighs, and the sheets. You feel like your whole body is buzzing and your toes are curled so tightly that your feet are starting to hurt from the strain.

The countdown starts the second you start squirming and pressing your hips into the mattress. Toji's arms are hooked around your thighs, holding them open and still so he can use his mouth on you for all ten of those seconds and make a mess out of your overstimulated cunt. His lips are latched around your clit, one of his fingers pumping in and out of you, while you shake and pathetically sob from the borderline painful amount of stimulation. The skin of your palms must be broken by now from how hard you've been digging into them.

"Toj--" you barely manage, before your chest is heaving and racking out another sob.

The ten seconds are up, and Toji immediately eases off of you, releasing your visibly trembling legs so that you can move as you please. He crawls up the bed and sits beside you, quickly undoing the binding of your wrists and tossing the strip away.

"I know... I know, doll," Toji coos, wiping at your tear streaked cheeks. He doesn't instantly scoop you up into his arms, because you not wanting to be touched is definitely a possibility. He just sits there, by your side, and attempts to verbally soothe you while you work to compose yourself. "Just breathe, mama. It's all done. You're gonna be okay."

Once your breathing is more calm and you're not so rattled, he works his way up to touching you, starting with your shaky hands and the crescent shapes that litter your palms. He carefully runs his thumbs over the little marks, monitoring your reaction to make sure he isn't hurting you. He brings your hands up to his lips and kisses your knuckles, moving along each of your fingers and ending where his focus is needed most—your palms.

"You good, ma?" Toji asks, lying down on his side, facing you. He's still not pulling you into his arms, but one of his legs is pressed against yours, just to have some sort of physical contact with you.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you say, offering a soft smile. "It was just..." you hum, thinking.

"Intense?" Toji cuts in, to which you nod. "But I didn't hurt you too bad? You're alright?"

"Yes, baby," you assure. "I would've used my safe word if it was too much for me to handle. We touched on that before we started this, remember?" Your hand goes to cup his cheek, but he intercepts it by grabbing your wrist and bringing your hand up to his lips, again.

"Don't be scared to use that word, ma. Don't ever push your boundaries for me, alright? I don't give a fuck if i'm about to bust. If you're not feeling it, we're gonna stop, okay? The last thing I wanna do is to traumatize you."

"Jesus fuck, you're so sexy," you murmur, curling up into him. Your hand splays over his abdomen and rubs slowly, a simple gesture that makes his cock start throbbing and twitching in his sweats, the longer you do it. "Yes, Toji. I won't ever hesitate," you assure, your words promised, physically, through a kiss. The feeling of your lips against his, only further fuels his arousal. You can feel the way he impatiently kisses you back, like he's trying to inhale you. The way he grips your hip and pulls you so that your body is pressed against him, further communicates his need for more of you.

"I'll be so gentle with you, doll," he mumbles, into your neck, pressing kisses to it, afterwards. "Please? Let me treat you right, this time."

You giggle as he continues murmuring quiet little pleas into your neck, through kisses.

"I wanted you to do it, baby, but alright, treat me your way. The right way."

[mssorceressupreme]

Let The World Burn

——— Pairing: Hwang In-Ho (or Young-Il) x reader

Summary: In-Ho would let the world burn for you, developing a huge soft spot and love for you, once you die in his arms, he’s determined to make sure everyone pays for it

Warnings: reader!death, angst, mentions of gunshots, daeho has ptsd, violence, swearing, mentions of blood, deaths

a/n: reader doesn’t know he’s the frontman fyi

———

The arena was a hellscape. The air smelled of gunpowder and fear, screams mingling with the deafening sound of gunfire. Shadows darted in and out of your vision as frantic players pushed past you, some tripping over fallen bodies, others using them as shields.

Every step you took felt like a battle against the tide of selfish desperation.

You clutched the heavy bag of bullets to your chest, your heart pounding wildly. Somewhere out there, Young-il was fighting, orchestrating this mess while holding together the fragile remnants of control.

Dae-ho cowered behind the bunk beds, leaning with his legs to his chest on his bunk bed, his hands trembling as he peeked out.

You’d told him to stay put, and thankfully, he listened. You couldn’t blame him for being terrified—it was every man for himself now, and his fear was written all over his face.

“Stay here,” you had told him, squeezing his shoulder as the fear and panic grew in his eyes. “I’ll find Young-il and Gi-hun. You’ll be okay, alright? I'll come back for you, you just stay put here.” You comforted, he trembled with fear, clutching his legs tighter at every gun shot.

He nodded, wide-eyed, and you’d forced yourself to turn away before the weight of the situation could settle over you. Now, pushing through the chaos, your focus narrowed. You had to find Young-il.

“Young-il!” you screamed, your voice raw as you ran through the area, running up the stairs, dodging bullets and panicked players. “Young-il!” It felt like a never-ending maze of death.

He was there, standing in the midst of the chaos like a storm given human form. His sharp features twisted in determination, his dark eyes scanning the crowd as he dodged bullets and ran from the chaos. You called out to him again, louder, but he didn’t hear you over the deafening sounds of death and desperation.

Before you could reach him, a frantic player shoved you from behind. You stumbled, dropping the bag of ammo and as you bent down to pick it up, a sharp burning pain ripped through your side. BANG! The world spun as your knees buckled. The ground was cold and unforgiving when you hit it, the bullets spilling out of the bag and scattering across the floor.

It was a surreal kind of agony, blinding and consuming. You tried to breathe, but it felt like your lungs had been punched.

Blood was warm against your hands as you pressed them to the wound, your vision blurring as tears welled in your eyes.

You tried again, your voice trembling as you whispered, “Young-il…”

Through the haze, you saw him turn, his eyes landing on you. For a moment, time froze. His face- usually so unreadable, so carefully controlled, cracked with raw emotion. Horror. Rage. Despair. He saw you.

And then he ran.

“Young-il...” you tried to say again, but the sound barely left your lips.

When he reached you, he dropped to his knees, his hands immediately pressing over yours to stem the bleeding.

“No,” he whispered, his voice shaking as his eyes darted across your body, assessing the damage.

“No, no, no! NOT HER!” His voice rose as he turned his fury to the guards, his tone sharper than a blade. “She’s not a target for fucks sake!”

His words carried the weight of command, but the guards hesitated only briefly. Young-il didn’t wait for an answer.

His focus snapped back to you, his hands trembling as he cradled you against his chest.

“Stay with me,” he pleaded, his voice cracking. “Please, you have to stay with me. I can fix this. Just hold on, okay? Please.”

You blinked up at him, your breaths coming in shallow gasps. “Young-il…” His name was the only thing you could manage, but it was enough to draw his gaze back to you, his dark eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Don’t talk,” he said quickly, his hands pressing harder against your wound. “Save your strength. You’re going to be fine. I promise.”

There was a desperation in his voice that you’d never heard before, a vulnerability that broke through his steely exterior. It was almost enough to make you believe him. Almost.

A small, weak smile tugged at your lips. “You… always so serious,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “I wanted… to help.”

“And you did,” he said fiercely, his voice trembling. “You did more than enough. Just stay. Please stay!"

Your hand, slick with blood, reached up to touch his face. He flinched at the contact, but didn’t pull away. “Thank you,” you whispered. “For caring.”

“No, no, no…” His voice cracked as your hand slipped away, falling limply to your side. “Don’t you dare…” His words dissolved into a choked sob as he pulled you closer. "FUCK!" He cried aloud, rocking you gently in his arms.

The chaos around him seemed to fade into nothingness as he held you, now lifeless, his world crumbling in his arms. His tears fell freely now, staining your already bloodied clothes. He pressed his forehead to yours, his breath ragged and uneven. "My Y/N..." he whispered. "My Y/N..."

And then, the grief turned to something darker.

When he finally looked up, his face was a mask of cold fury. He laid you down gently, brushing a hand over your face to close your eyes. Then he rose, his movements slow, deliberate.

The guard who had shot you barely had time to react before Young-il shot bullet which tore through his chest. One shot. Then another. And another. Now limp, the guard fell to the ground, dead.

“Young-il” Gi-hun’s voice called, but it was drowned out by the sound of gunfire as Young-il turned his wrath on the rest. He didn’t stop, didn’t hesitate. For a mere second, you had given him a glimmer of hope, he had reconsidered his actions for a short moment in time. He even thought about ending the games and running away to take care of you, and only you. But no, now, he remembered who he truly was. The man who had once orchestrated the games with calculated precision was gone, replaced by someone unrecognisable—a man consumed by amplified vengeance and grief. A man with no mercy. A man with no heart. Every last bit of empathy, washed away.

“For her,” he muttered under his breath as he fired another shot. “For her.”

Young-il had lost everything before. But losing you? That was a wound that would never heal. For you, he would destroy it all. Let the world burn. Let them all pay.