#rare pair fanfic

[the-bar-sinister]

That fic you wrote?

The one about the ship no one else cares about, or the deeply unpopular character, or the extremely unusual AU?

The fic that got no comments or kudos when you posted it?

Months or years from now, that fic might be exactly what someone is looking for in the sea of fics about all the popular characters, ships, and AUs.

Your fic might be the only fic out there that has what someone is looking for. The only fic that scratches the itch that it turns out you and that reader share.

And that's awesome.

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

“why would you write fics for small, unpopular fandoms? you’re not gonna reach that many hits in fandoms not many people know about” ?? because I’m not writing fics for hits or kudos, I’m writing them for me because these characters are my blorbos and I have so many ideas, so much thoughts about them that my brain might explode if I don’t write them out.

[teafiend]

Oh, But She Loves, Sweet and Right and Merciful

(Title taken from the lyrics to “Cherry Wine”, by Hozier)

Summary: Conversations on the edge of the night.

“How did you even manage to remain a priest for so many years?”

She blurted out as she came down from her high, breathing uneven, his lips still lingering between her breasts. He loved the spicy scent he tasted on her skin; briny, musky and an essencendefinably Kang Gil Young.

His tongue peeked out from between the prison of his teeth, licking at a tiny bead of sweat. “Hmm... because I didn’t know any better, and haven’t yet fallen in love with you,” he whispered, nibbling on her lower lip before dipping in for a full kiss.

He thoroughly enjoyed the blissed out physical ecstasy of his orgasms, but what he truly craved was the intimacy and connection after their lovemaking.

Those windows of naked moments when they were more open with each other, with less emotional barriers and physical distance in between.

It had been a continuous struggle.

While the both of them - and especially Gil Young - was always frank and open with their feelings, especially when it came to their pasts, it had been particularly difficult for him simply to take off the armour he had built up all these years.

Only the fact that he was faced with the one woman whom he owed everything to, his life included, which pushed him beyond what he was comfortable sharing under normal circumstances.

With her, every word was a confession. She was a living, breathing confessional box. He knew he had been granted forgiveness because she had told him he had done nothing wrong. It was not his fault. None of theirs.

What did it matter that he was still taking his own sweet time in forgiving himself? As long as he knew Kang Gil Young and the Lord did, he would arrive at grace at his own pace.

The Lord did not mind, and even if she would occasionally grouse, he knew she did not, either.

He sat up, leaned against the wall, and pulled her up with him, letting her sit astride him. She rested her cheek against his, arms loose around his waist. He tucked the blanket tightly around them.

“You know why. It’s the reason we are here, together. It was the right thing to do until you. Only path opened to me then,” he replied somberly, though he knew that was not what she was referring to.

“Was it difficult? Looking at you now, I can’t believe you managed to stay celibate all those years,” she queried, genuinely curious.

They had never really spoken about this, though her initial question was a farcical joke more than anything.

Their pasts were iron shackles which bound them together. The act of padding the sharp edges with silk and cotton did nothing to lessen the harsh interwoven weight it bore on them.

However, just the reality of having her beside him to share his burdens with made the struggles more bearable. The stain would always be an inescapable and indelible mark on their psyche and lives, but the lightened load was still a blessing.

“While certainly more bothersome when I was younger, it was nothing too vexing. It was also a part of our training and practice. Furthermore, I had other more pressing issues to focus on,” he explained, rhythmically stroking up and down her back, the action meditative and soothing.

“It helped that I had never felt anything for anyone. I was too emotionally closed off, and had no intention of remedying that lack. Until you, I was content with the way things were,” he added, a note of pensiveness in his voice.

“You were not running around having relationships with anyone all these years, either. And you were not required to live a celibate life,” he quipped at her, a small smile on his lips. “Now look at you, jumping me left and right. How did you cope before?” he teasingly shot back at her, attempting to add a dash of levity to their conversation.

She rolled her eyes at him playfully but conceded to his points, “You are not wrong, but I settled my own sexual needs when I had them. You couldn’t do that, right?”

“Well... I admit to breaking the rules now and then. It’s not uncommon for the clergy. We work at being celibate, it doesn’t come naturally for many of us. That said, it had never been a major issue for me, personally. It became a conundrum only after I fell in love with you,” he replied ruefully.

“I sleep better after making love with you,” he admitted, embarrassment clear across his features.

Her arms around him tightened imperceptibly, “Me too.”

They let those words sink into their hearts, silent except for their composed, synchronized breathing.

“I love your hair. I was surprised you kept it so long. I hope you will always keep it loose when we are alone. I feel privileged to be the one to see it,” he murmured, curling a few lustrous strands around his fingers.

She looked so incredibly lovely with her hair down, he could not help but entangle his hand into the sleek threads each and every time, marveling at its silkiness.

The many ways it transformed her from a tough and courageous detective into a highly desirable woman just by being unbound had always been a wonder to him. Not to mention how easily the image heated his blood.

He felt as if magic was weaved in every strand. It was an extremely old-fashioned sentiment, and he had thought it improper to put into words out loud. Until now.

While he had always thought of her as beautiful, he could not deny that with her hair down, Gil Young was a different creature, a siren who laced temptation into his very soul.

“It’s my concession to traditional femininity, I suppose,” she admitted, somewhat bashfully. It took his breath away, this hidden side to her. He wished to be the one to nurture and protect it, for once. Just as she was his guardian angel.

“Gil Young-ya, thank you for being you, for accepting me into your life,” he murmured reverently into her hair before tilting her chin up for a meeting of lips, tender and ardent.

*** *** ***

“Yoon-ah, is this what an ordinary life feels like?”

He seldom heard her with such vulnerability laced through her words. His heart ached at the grief in her tremulous voice, a loss he felt all too keenly himself.

“Hwa Pyeong said he wanted to lead an ordinary life after Park Il Do. Sometimes, I wonder whether I am attempting to do that on his behalf,” she rested her forehead against his, eyes closed.

“Were you in love with Hwa Pyeong-sshi?” he could not help but put into words his own insecurity.

She started and stared at him, seeming to search his expression for something, “No. We were annoyingly teased about it, though. It was not something which crossed my mind given the circumstances. But after, who knows. If he had survived, perhaps.” She choked slightly on the tears she did not let flow.

Yoon brushed his thumb softly against her cheek, catching the stray tears on his skin.

“You have to admit the chances of me ending up with Hwa Pyeong was higher than the thought of you and me,” she rationalized, blunt and to-the-point.

He did realise that, and it was akin to having a thorn lodged in his heart and mind, the implications of his own thoughts.

She held his face gently, not allowing him to avert his eyes as she pressed on, “But that’s the past. Both of you are my dearest friends, the only ones I have. Now, I only have you, and we are family, Yoon-ya. Whether or not we make love, you are first and foremost family.”

The scar on her palm, a physical reminder of that night, scorched his skin where it was held against his cheek.

Her scar had always reminded him of the stigmata, a symbol for the bearer of unimaginable burdens.

“For all we know, you might have been the one who ended up with him?” she teased, though with her normal sobriety, and he was pulled up short by those words.

He mulled over her words, pondering on whether any such potential might have existed, though given his background, a complete no should have been his first reaction.

He came to the conclusion that yes, his heart was full of love for Yoon Hwa Pyeong-sshi too, running deeper than they could fathom. Still, he could not say that the love extended to sexual or romantic interest.

“I don’t know. All I can say is that you are the one I am in love with. All I will ever want or need,” he declared softly.

She nodded minutely at his answer, a small, beatific smile on her lips. She kept her silence, simply burrowing into him more closely.

“You can be sweet at times, Choi Yoon. I love you too,” she whispered against his bare skin.

He took Gil Young’s right hand in his and kissed the raised scar. He knew she - they - had been lucky. The damage could have been more severe than it had ended up being. Even then, the use of her right hand was no longer quite the same.

Just like them, trying in their broken, jagged ways to build a life together. To find meanings to the tragedies which had scarred their lives.

He never could have imagined that this frank conversation between them would come back to haunt him in a few months time, bringing with it an understanding of what they needed to come to terms with.

The Lord had answered his fervent prayers that moonlit night in the sea. Their friend was saved, and survived.

[hppjmxrgosg]

to all the fanfic writers who write about small, niche tropes and random crossovers that have less than a thousand works total and rarepairs and one specific vein content so that despite the master pieces you write you only get a couple hundred hits: you are doing god's work. i am kissing you on the head. you are my lifeblood.

edit since its getting lost in the tags: the thousand works comment is not to minimize the people who write for subgenres with maybe 10 works or rairpairs with like 3 works, but to include people who, while garnering more attention than the former, may still feel disheartened for receiving less attention on their work than people who write for megafandoms or very common tropes. 1000 is more than ten, but 1000 is closer to 10 than 200,000.

[last-starry-sky]

kinktober day 11 - multiple orgasms

ghost x gaz x f!reader (part 1, part 2 here)

[MDNI - NSFW - MIND THE WARNINGS: 1k, light edging/denial, fingering, overstimulation, open/poly relationship (skirting full poly!141 for this one, but it's implied), oral.]

tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added!): @slut-lmao, @mishaglass

“I don’t even get why you like shows like this,” you said, irritated, motioning toward the fighting couple on the TV. You were laid back between Simon’s legs, head cradled between his pectorals, the two of you slowly sinking lower and lower into the couch as the afternoon passed. 

“What’er y’ talkin’ about?” he asked, his large hand stroking softly over your stomach. He ruffled the fabric of your tank, skirting just above the band of your joggers. 

He had been playing with you like this all day. Light touches, gently holding you as either you or him winked in and out of sleep. He, frustratingly, never pushed it over into anything overtly sexual. You hated it. Wrapped in your favorite blanket, surrounded by his strong, warm body, it had you spiraling into a soft, subby, haze, where anything could have you dripping, begging for his touch.

Instead of giving in, you poured your want into your dissatisfaction with the trash reality show he’d chosen. 

“All they do is fight,” you said with a huff, covering the hitch in your voice as his other hand trailed up your chest, absently following the knit rib from hem to neck. “Thought-ah!” You tried to continue, but his other hand stroked down, petting your pussy over your pants, sending you shuddering against him. “Ah, yes!” you moaned, finally getting the stimulation you wanted.  

His hand gripped softly around your breast, rolling your nipple between his thumb and finger. The feeling was dulled by the fabric between you but, in your current state, it didn’t matter. You still writhed against him, willing the stoic man on. 

“Like it,” he rumbled darkly, fingers rubbing wide circles over your covered mound while you whined and panted beneath him. “Like it because you hate it,” he continued, giving your clit a hard flick, sending you gushing in your panties. 

Oh fuck, you thought, you weren’t going to last much longer if-

“Like it because you still crawl in my lap. Think you’re so slick begging for cock like this.” His hand closed into a claw, blunt nails biting into the fat of your breast while his other hand pressed down on your soaked pussy, working you with quick, precise, strokes. Your head rolled to the side, open mouth spilling an uninterrupted stream of pleading sighs. You felt his mouth press to the crown of your head. “Like hearing my girl cum when I play with her needy little cunt the most, though.”

As if on his command, you came. Your back bowed against his chest, forcing your hips against his chubbing cock. A keen pierced the air, cutting through the stilted interview with the fighting couple from earlier. Simon forced your orgasm on and on, fingers softly circling your clit and pinching your nipple, until you finally gathered the strength to swat his hands away. 

He let you lay against him for a moment as your brain fizzed, going back to stroking over your stomach. Once your breathing evened out he picked you up, forcing you to stand on wavering, coltish legs, before pushing you away.

“Go on then,” he said with a smack of your ass, making you jump. “Shower,” he ordered. 

You obeyed. Happy to wash the sleep and sweat from your body. You stripped as soon as the door closed behind you, wandering into the stall and under the steamy spray. You would have been happy to melt into the wall for the next few minutes, mindlessly cleaning yourself while dreaming of cuddling back up with your man on the couch afterward. Maybe he would even let you pick the next show.

“Mmm, lookit that,” a smooth voice purred behind you. A quick turn revealed it to be one of the other men in your life: Kyle. This was quite the surprise. You hadn’t expected him home today. His dark eyes hooded and seductive as he followed the path of suds and water running down your body. Before you could say anything, he was pulling his shirt over his head asking, “Mind if I join?”

He didn’t give you any time to answer, quickly dropping his shorts as he stepped in, huddling you into a corner. He kept you there for only a moment, letting himself run his hands over your body. He listened to you squirm and whine, still wound up from Simon not five minutes ago. 

He leaned down to peck your lips before taking a knee, sucking kisses all the way down. His hands spread open your slick thighs as he found a home between them. A tonguing kiss to your mons had you sighing his name. Your fingers worked into his tight curls, trying to bring him closer, lower, right were you needed him. 

He chuckled, humming as he nosed open your folds. “Really need it that bad, babe?” he murmured against your core. “Simon not take care of you while I was gone?”

You couldn’t answer, only hold him tighter as he worked that coil in your stomach tighter and tighter. Your was clit still tingling from earlier, so Kyle’s clever tongue lapping at your untapped juices felt like the best form of torture. You leaned back against the wall, bucking against his mouth, taking full advantage of finally having some unmuted pleasure. His fingers dug into your hips, biceps bulging and his hands put a stop to most of your movement, 

“Kyle . . . Kyle,” you gasped, his tongue swirling around your clit, slow and rhythmic, that had your hips swaying. “There,” you begged. “Please . . . don’t stop.” 

Ever one to please, he licked a hard stripe from tip to root before sucking as much of your clit between his lips. He suckled on it, feeling your pulse in the sensitive little organ hammer between his teeth. That shot a spike of electricity straight through you. You keened, moans of his name leaving your lips before you even register your orgasm.   

Somehow, you managed to stay standing. Kyle being the good man he was, did most of the work once he saw you were unable to doing anything more than slide down the slick wall. He wrangled your limp, post-orgasm, body out of the shower. You remember him toweling you off, pressing a kisses here and there followed with cute little praises. 

You were half asleep when he deposited you in bed, directly into Simon's arms. He pulled the blanket up over your shoulder, kissing your cheek as he murmured, “Get some sleep, lovie. Soap ‘n Cap should be back tonight. Can’t leave them out.”

[curiositysavesthecat]

*This poll was submitted to us and we simply posted it so people could vote and discuss their opinions on the matter. If you’d like for us to ask the internet a question for you, feel free to drop the poll of your choice in our inbox and we’ll post them anonymously (for more info, please check our pinned post).

[number1yisuchongfan]

They allure me…

Close ups

[horriblegoosefest]

Coming Soon: HP Horrible Goose Fest

Are you a writer avoiding your WIP by enjoying a nice lunch with a friend?

Or playing a fun game?

Or tending your garden?

Well, not for long.

It's a lovely morning in the Harry Potter fandom and we're here to find you a horrible goose.

Announcing HP Horrible Goose Fest!

If you're a writer with a WIP that needs a little bit of encouragement to get over the finish line, we'd love to help you find a goose (horribleness optional) to pester, prod, or push you along.

And if you make a great fic cheerleader, maybe you'll find that your angel wings are actually of a more avian variety, and you should think about joining us as a goose.

More details to come soon!

Your mods: @apricitydays-lazynights @geesenoises @oknowkiss @saintgarbanzo @thehoneybeet

[laurashapiro-noreally]

Looking for something to read?

Oh look, it's another recs post! This time I'm featuring two stories per author. These are writers I always make time for, whose work stands out as unusually hot, clever, funny, or smart -- sometimes all of the above.

I'm gonna start you out strong with two by @werpiper: After Hours takes Aziraphale and Crowley to the baths after their oyster supper, and all sorts of interesting pleasures are there for our angel to sample. Piper's Crowley is one of my favorites: always evaluating the situation, not quite aware of what his own heart is doing but feeling it anyway.

Fitting In is a new story, still a WIP, but I am utterly tantalized by Muriel's first taste of love -- and tea. This is already rich in detail, soft and fragrant, and I can hardly wait for the action to get going in earnest. The pairing seems surprising but when you think about it for ten seconds of course it makes sense. Sex workers help the curious, the awkward, and the inexperienced every day, bless them.

If you enjoy these, check out @werpiper's back catalog -- they have done a ton of ineffables-through-the-ages, and their series Miracles and Heresy is worth many delightful hours of your time.

I love what @copperplatebeech has been doing lately:

He's Not My Friend is a T-rated story that explores Aziraphale's constant refusal to acknowledge his relationship with Crowley, and Crowley's mirror of that, and how things glacially shift over time. It is subtle and yet specific, it will make you ache and smile.

All Of The Above, also T-rated, is a warm and fuzzy alternative to that, a hilarious celebration of true friendship that made me laugh out loud and still got me right in the feels.

@copperplatebeech can do everything, from quiet, gentle, and romantic to devastating plotty AUs to extraordinarily horny established relationship to absolutely ridiculous humor. Do dive in if you haven't already.

Next up, @cumaeansibyl, master of kink:

better living through technology manages to shove everything I want in a dirty story into less than three thousand words: uptight Aziraphale reduced to sodden wreck, Crowley gleefully showing him what he's been missing, character-driven erotics, and exceptionally funny dialogue.

indulgentiam peccatorum nostrorum is somehow all that and more, turning the "I was wrong" dance into a kink (something I can't get enough of, recs welcome). This one is post-Bastille so it is extra-juicy. Mind the tags!

@cumaeansibyl has a gift for established relationship one-shots, which readers of mine will know are my entire jam. They also have a mind-meltingly hot inverse!omens AU that features different variations of angelic/demonic Crowleys and Aziraphales for our ineffables to play with.

A new-to-me author, Calico, has me hanging by a thread with their Ineffable Romans series. If you want to remember that your ineffables aren't human, that they are inordinately clever but very stupid, that the feelings they have for each other are truly beyond what anyone alive has ever felt, Calico may be the writer for you. This stuff is deep. Also hot af.

Sub Rosa reads like a nasty shag at Petronius', but there's so much more going on here. It is Extremely Queer, driven by power dynamics, and Crowley is fully demonic here and absolutely in control...or is he?

The Intemperance of Liber Pater continues on this theme, with dialogue-driven smut that reads less like a seduction than an inevitability. There's another story in this series, unfinished, and I can't wait to see what happens next.

Last but not least: two short pieces by @ineffabildaddy. I stumbled on their stories just this week and I absolutely love their approach, which I've not seen done quite this way before.

take me as your wife has a tight first-person perspective as Crowley meets Aziraphale for a meal and imagines (or is it his imagination?) that Aziraphale is suggesting Certain Things about how they might occupy themselves later. Indeed, is he suggesting even more? Something about their relationship? Or is it all in Crowley's head?

Only in Dreams is kind of a companion piece, from Aziraphale's point of view -- though hundreds of years later. This one's set after the events of S2 and although just as romantic as take me as your wife, it also offers an ineffable take on the ol' glory hole concept. Just in case you thought I was getting soft. 😏

@ineffabildaddy has a whole series of poems and ficlets like these and I can't wait to explore them all.

[maqui-chan]

I like ushisaku but i feel like they're a ship that's difficult to get right...! im not sure how to cook them yet

(i don't do this often.... but if anybody has ushisaku requests, send them my way and i MIGHT get to it)

[the-bar-sinister]

It's really wild when you look at a pair of characters who interact in canon and your reaction is "oh they're obviously meant to be a couple"

then you go on AO3 and they're a barely existent rare pair.

It's like "oh I see I must have access to the secret shipping goggles they didn't pass out to everyone else."

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

fanfic writers who write for rare pair ships are treasures and I hope they all know about the impact they have on fandoms. like… they’re the ones bringing these ships to lives, they’re one of the few people who saw the potential between two characters whose dynamics, whether or not they interact in canon, were overlooked by most fans, and they created something beautiful out of these potential dynamics. like??? hello???? that is pure genius.

not to mention how they’re the lifelines for other people who enjoy these ships but didn’t have any fics to consume until these tireless writers spent hours or days or weeks or months or years writing about these characters and their relationships, and just shared the worlds they created with their audiences for free.

or how they singlehandedly introduced the ships to new people who would’ve otherwise never thought about these ships before.

how they could just make people fall in love with the dynamics between characters who have little to no canon screentime together.

how they could just make people fall in love with the dynamics between characters who aren’t lovers in canon, characters who don’t indicate any clear hint of romance in canon.

how they see what most fans don’t and how they create such beautiful worlds for these characters are simply insane.

fanfic writers who write for rare pair ships are treasures.

shoutout to every fanfic writer who writes for rare pair ships.

[bucknastysbabe]

No Conviction - Ser Criston Cole x Aegon II

For the mother of our brainchild, SMOOCHIELINI @aemondsbabe

Rating: Explicit

Tags: TW//Degradation, Criston is taking out his frustrations and prior guilt, fat shaming, dub-con, Criston is mean, unreliable narrator, manipulation. Angst, M/M, rare pair, Bondage (light), anal fingering, dildo use, there is prep!, bratting, feminization, Aegon’s a slut at the end of the day, Criss priss takes the idea of an order and skews it, chubby!Aegon, prostate orgasm, nipple play

A/N: THIS IS NASTY DIRTY we will be back to our usual content soon, I put the usual taglist but heed the pairing!

Taglist: @arcielee @fallingintoyourlilaceyes @valeskafics @lovelykhaleesiii @fairysluna @starogeorgina @targaryen-madness @sugarpoppss2 @aemonds-holy-milk @dr-aegon

Ao3: Updated later

Alicent’s big doe eyes were watery, her hair wild. She seemed to become increasingly fraught by the day— it pained Ser Criston to know why she was so wracked with nerves. They both were aware of the plans for the future. Very big plans as Viserys continued to decay. He noted the Queen’s nails were bleeding again.

Criston grabbed her shaking palms, soothing her with a murmur, “My Queen, breathe, what is the issue?”

The Knight was grateful he had gloves on or Alicent’s ripped nails might have drawn blood. The redhead took a deep inhale and exhaled. She begged him, a frantic edge to her tone, “Aegon. He’s uncontrollable. I don’t know what to do. He brought whores into the Keep Sept! Ser Darklyn caught..my son..defiling the place.”

She spat ‘my son’ as if it was bile in her mouth. Criston clenched his teeth, anger beginning to rise up from the pit of his stomach. He was utterly revolted. They were going to thrust this wanton, deviant, gluttonous Prince onto the throne.

They had no other choice.

The green queen’s tone grew hard as she ordered, “Pay him a visit. Make him understand the castle is not his playground. Use any means possible. Your queen demands it.”

Criston squeezed her palms and nodded. He rumbled, “Prince Aegon’s heresy will not go unpunished, you have my promise.” Alicent turned away with a thanks, nails back to her lips. The white knight had an order to execute, striding off to the Prince’s quarters.

He stopped to raise a brow at Ser Arryk standing guard. The twin grumbled, “Princeling’s sleeping off his revels, by all means, go ahead.” He gave a wry smile, Criston not returning the look. Criston dismissed Cargyll, “The Queen requires you to take my place at her side. I’ve been sent to deal with Aegon.”

The other Kingsguard nodded, rolling his eyes at Criston’s serious demeanor. Cole watched him descend down the hallway, turning a corner before opening Aegon’s door. The knight wrinkled his nose at the smell of wine and musk— Aegon sprawled out in his bed, naked.

A bottle of wine sat on the side table. Criston’s eyes jerked to the foot of the grand bed. His lips twisted downwards at the ropes, leather, the collection of ivory to ebony carved cocks. The marcher was stunned. The open display of debauchery. An outwardly sinful collection. He swallowed reflexively, deciding on what to do.

Dark eyes roved up to the Prince. He’d grown rather fleshy with drink and overindulgence at the table. For a young man of twenty, a dragon rider, Aegon had the soft curves of a plump maid. Criston could almost laugh— Aegon probably spent too much time on his back to get a sweat working even with all the fucking he did.

He stalked over toward the side of the bed, leering down at Aegon. Criston had an idea pop in his head— a nasty one. Beating Aegon served no gain. The princeling would just snivel and cry, delving deeper into his cups. The knight’s cock stirred at the image of wide eyes and tears falling down fat cheeks.

Aegon was pretty enough, soft enough, tits grown much bigger than Rhaenyra had at the time he coveted her, sullied his cloak for her. His white hair was rumpled, lips, and cheeks feminine and plump. Criston was well acquainted with wide violet eyes and long lashes. He reminded Cole too much of Ali with that look.

Criston barked, “Aegon!”

The prince stirred and whined, rolling onto his soft tummy, exposing more plush thigh and a round ass. Criston rolled his eyes, ignoring his stirring cock. Aegon’s pallid fleshy hips had jagged pink marks, a sign of the glutton gaining too much for his skin to keep up. The marcher couldn't understand how the buffoon had no shame in his naked body, especially in a state such as this.

Criston’s eyes jerked back to the foot of the bed. Aegon was ruled by his extreme hedonism. His nasty thought blossomed into a plan. The knight sighed in annoyance. He’d remain chaste, but Aegon would get some sense fucked into him.

Criston undid his gauntlets in quick snaps, eyes blown and focused on the prince. Next came his pauldrons, dropping to the floor in a loud clank. Aegon snuffled and stirred, groaning, “Fuck off Cargyll, m’alive.”

Finally, the heavy cuirass was off. The marcher remained in his white garb. He took off his boots before snatching the phials of oil and the biggest carved cock available. The cloak was neatly placed out of sight— Criston would deal with his guilt later. This was for the crown, for his queen, for the future of Westeros.

He placed the heavy cock down on the bedside table, placing a knee on the plush bed. Aegon finally jerked and squawked, reddened eyes wide. His puffy lips opened and closed like a fish. The prince questioned “Cole? What in the seven hells are you doing here? I’m trying to rest! Did you not hear me tell Cargyll to fuck off?”

Criston wanted to snarl and jerk the brat around. He remained quiet, face placid, staring Aegon down. After taking a breath, he spoke, “I came to check on you. I don’t appreciate the attitude, my prince. You’ve been more withdrawn than usual.”

Aegon’s face softened, eyes gleaming from the attention Criston was lathering upon his minuscule ego. He murmured, “This isn’t some scheme from Mother, is it? You merely care for Aemond.” The blonde’s mouth pouted, face eager for a smidgeon of praise.

“No. I care for all of you. What’s going on Aegon? You surround yourself in Flea Bottom, but you seem lonely around the Keep. I notice more than you think.” Criston was not lying when he said his piece. Aegon irked him but he held affection for all of Alicent’s children. He also knew Aegon sought touch and affirmation in the lowest of places.

Aegon’s face softened, his body still bared to Criston’s sight. He mumbled, cheeks flushing, “I am already an idiot fool, I can’t fight, nor will I be as smart as Aemond. What is the saying? The black sheep.”

Criston placed a knee on the plush bed, leaning to cup a full cheek. He replied, “The black sheep of the family, yes. Although I believe that title is for the bitch on Dragonstone. You don’t trust yourself enough, hm? You never gave yourself a chance.”

Aegon nuzzled into his palm, eyes growing teary and cheeks flushing. He inhaled a bit, body shifting. The prince complained, “Why are you here? To make me feel worse? It’s too late. This is what I am. I’d rather be drunk than try and be laughed at more.”

Criston put his other knee on the bed, climbing towards Aegon. He purred, “So you’d rather spread your legs like a two stag whore and guzzle wine, feast and fuck your life away?” Aegon whimpered softly as Criston jerked the prince underneath him, pulling him up by thick hips.

“Ah- what are you doing?”

“Maybe you’ll learn some worth if I fuck it into you, pretty princeling,” He quipped back, fingertips digging into pliant flesh. He felt good. Too good. Aegon squirmed but Criston had him pinned under his toned frame. The prince whined, “Why, don’t, this is...no!”

“Your wanton pussy says no to me then? How strange,” Criston hummed, “Aemond would never defile a sept like you have. Disgusting.” The pale body under him struggled, tears pouring from the blonde’s eyes. Criston reached around to grab at a rock-hard cock, laughing meanly as he gave tentative pumps.

“Truly are a deviant. You probably dreamed of this,” he groped Aegon’s fat belly, “A glutton too. You were so slim. What happened? Aemond had a pudgy face. You’ve got tits now.”

Aegon mewled pathetically, bucking back into Criston’s hips. He whined, “Stop it, stop it, s’not that bad!” Criston snorted, grabbing a handful of chubby tits, Aegon sobbing and shivering. The knight pinched at the stretched nipple and swore, “Plump little princess. Content to laze around and get her pussy fucked all day. You have no conviction. No ambition to rule your kingdom.”

Criston reached over to grab the oil, Aegon’s sniveling music to the marcher’s ears. The prince tried to sneer, “Y-you swore to be chaste, you already fucked that up! Picking another Valyrian again?”

“No, no, simpleton. As much as I disgustingly lusted for a Targaryen princess on my cock, I have doubled over my faith. This is merely a lesson for you. Smart girl, wish you used your bigger head more, it is a scheme from your mother,” his gloved hand cracked across Aegon’s peachy ass, “As I pondered, figured you’d be apt to listen with a cock up your cunt.”

Teary doll eyes and trembling lips stared over a pale shoulder. Aegon’s white hair hung limp in his face. He tried to squirm again, pissed off, by his swears and leg kicking out. Criston shoved the softling by his neck, Aegon crying out in frustration.

The knight reached back for that discarded rope, yanking Aegon’s skinny wrists up and trying them. Criston hissed, “Goddamn brat. That’s what you are. You’re going to listen and maybe I’ll make your needy pussy feel good.” He was disgusted with himself— Aegon’s strangled moans were delicious.

The headboard clattered as Criston tested the ties. He took a moment to murmur, “Too tight?” Aegon rasped, heaving a sob, “N-no! Fuck me already! Make your point!” Criston’s lips quirked up, sliding a calloused thumb over Aegon’s twitching entrance, drawing a pitiful whine.

He poured oil over the twitching pucker, slicking his gloved fingers up. Criston had no experience with this but he knew an ass had no lubrication. Therefore, it was his job to open Aegon up. The prince squirmed impatiently, blotchy red cheeks ripe with embarrassment.

Criston could be gentle. But the leather whip told him otherwise. He pressed two fingers against the tight ring, trying to work himself in with circular movements. Aegon mewled, chubby thighs trembling, arching his back into a thick crease. Dark eyes hungrily watched Aegon's softened body fold and shake, idly worried why he thought it to be so fetching to the gaze.

“You’ve let yourself go to seed. No better than some lord's fat spoilt daughter. You’ve seen Aemond,” his other hand pinched Aegon’s back roll meanly, grinning at the prince’s whimpery pleads, “He’s lean and talented, even with one eye. You could’ve built yourself up in the yard.”

Aegon cried out as Criston’s oily fingers dipped inside the ring of muscle, the knight roughtly shoving them in deep. Aegon thrashed at the burn, cock bobbing against his drooping gut. The elder continued, “You might’ve been decent with a sword. Maybe you could read up and try to be smart? Aemond studies for hours.”

Criston cruelly jabbed his fingers in short thrusts as Aegon whined and babbled, “I- I can speak Valyrian! Stop talking about him now!” Aemond made Aegon’s hackles raise easily— the dutiful brother, the better son, the beloved. Alicent had eyes for the special son and his monstrous dragon.

Criston’s fingers curled against a nub that make the softling jolt in his ropes, throwing his wild hair back. The knight raised a brow— he’d heard Aegon talking about a spot that made the male whores squeal once. This must be it.

“I’m merely giving you some advice, Aemond excels. I could get you into fighting shape, hm?” He drug padded tips against the little spot, Aegon breathily moaning, “Ser Criston, Ser, please! No more about him!”

“Should’ve been born with a cunt. Let him breed you up with pretty Valyrian babies. You’re close enough anyways, always crying and needing your achy cunt pleased. Tits and hips made for babes. Greedy, greedy, greedy,” he tutted. Criston eagerly thrust his fingers, a grin plastered on his handsome face, eyes feral. The squelching added to Aegon's embarrassment, desire, and needs.

Aegon made a desperate noise, shivering all over. Criston flipped Aegon onto his back, seeing the fuss. The prince whined as his wrists twisted, eyes turned away, pouty lips swollen from biting. Criston eyed the milky cum decorating Aegon’s striped lower belly.

“Whore. Is that what we have to do to keep you in line? Keep you fucked out, drunk, and fed?” He snarled, face dangerously close. Aegon spread his thick thighs, tears leaking down his fat cheeks. The prince moaned “Fuck meeee, fuck meee, please just fuck me! I’ll be good!”

Criston groped at a tender breast, demanding, “You’ll be a good what?”

Aegon sulked as he huffed, eyes finally on Criston’s dark gaze. The knight slapped his fatty thigh, the prince wailing, “Your good little princess! The princess! Yes! I’ll listen!”

The brunette cooed, “Good girl, you’ll get your pussy fucked again. Such a lustful sort. Gorgeous whore. Look’it you.” His soiled gloves took their time squeezing Aegon’s curves. He hooked his fingers into a deep belly button, and the blonde began to whine again. His once-softened cock was already straining against his stomach.

“What? Gods. Surely all this blubber doesn’t turn you on? You need a corset, my Princess,” he laughed again.

Aegon stammered, “N-no, all this touching. S'sensitive.”

“Mhm, sure Aegon, you think I don’t see you at supper? Never miss supper do you? Ruled by your own greed. How will you be king? We’ll be penniless! Easy for your uncle and sister to take over.”

"I'll listen, you can be my hand, keep me in line," Aegon wetly cried, "Please, please, Serrr, need it."

Criston hummed in contentment, stretching black gloves against ivory thighs, spreading Aegon wide open. He smirked at the way Aegon's belly bunched into two thick rolls, forcing his little tits up. The knight swallowed down drool, he mustn't lap or suckle. He had to break his prince down some more.

The dark haired knight reluctantly leg go of a thigh, eyes drifting from Aegon's used hole. He grabbed that carved cock from earlier, slathering the earlier discarded oil onto it, something floral scenting the pungent air. The prince mewled and spread his legs, puffy lips swollen and spit-slick. Criston muttered, "Where the fuck do you even get these things...this one is lumped.."

Aegon panted, "S'for that spot."

"The spot that makes the spoilt princess squeal?"

Violet eyes watered some more, Aegon swallowing down a whine, softly pleading Criston- promising his utmost attention, duty, and service. Only if the Kingsguard would just use the toy! Criston smiled darkly, shoving the bulbous tip of the ebony cock into Aegon's stretched hole. The younger cried out, back arching again, almost sobbing with pleasure.

The marcher focused on settling it deep inside, pleased with the knowledge it would rub Aegon's tiny sweet spot raw. His hands were still gloved, he might fuck around with Aegon's small pink cock. Criston began to pump it in and out, watching tied wrists struggle as Aegon whimpered and moaned.

He shifted further forward, white garments rubbing against sensitive skin. It was as if Criston was practically fucking Aegon now, hand holding the toy being pistoned by his hips. His other hand groped its way up Aegon's flushed body, thumbing and pulling at a puffy nipple. Criston shook his head, commenting, "Your tits are growing princess, look how eager you are, shoving them into my palm."

He pinched harder, Aegon crying out in pleasure-pain. Criston leaned forward to hiss "We need to do something about your teat before they're bigger than your wife's. I expect some riding and training, yes?" Aegon babbled and sniffled, nodding along, slurred promising. The elder smiled down, easing his grip, patting Aegon's cheek.

"S-Ser, harder, I beg of you, m'close, I'll be sosososo good!"

"If you continue to be good after this, then you'll be rewarded every time. I think that's a good plan," Cole remarked, hand drawing dangerously close to Aegon's flushed prick, "I always have to handle you brats anyways. You're just a brattier princess who needs special treatment. Like your fucking bitch sister."

Aegon's thighs and ass clenched down on the thick cock, hitching on a warbling sob. The Kingsguard licked his lips, suddenly aware he was biting at them. He leered as he gripped the handful of cock, thumbing at the leaking tip. Cole reminisced with a frown, "Rhaenyra was more pliant after I played with her clit too, I guess you two are more similar than I thought. Deceptively pretty."

The prince's breathing had grown so thin it was as if he was breathing through a straw, eyes wide and lolling around, mewling and carrying on. Criston kept ranting, raising himself into a tizzy, "Luckily your hungry cunt will be attended to. Only in the keep. Until you can prove yourself to be competent! Can you respond to that?"

Aegon babbled, squirming from the pressure on his oversensitive cockhead, the Kingsguard fucking the carved toy into his ass, dragging across that little gland. Criston hummed, "There we go, the princess can behave when her clit's being rubbed hm? S'too much? You're leaking all over me, messy girl." He was having absolute joy with this, Aegon wailing and painting his soft tummy repeatedly, pearly seed shining on his pallid skin.

He'd roughened his touches, drove that ebony cock harder, lost in Aegon's cries. The poor thing busted again, begging for mercy, red-faced and spent. Criston felt that was enough, easing the toy out. He scooped up the copious seed and fed it into Aegon's slobbery lips, the whore lapping it up dutifully, hazy eyes the picture of a sweet royal. A good, well-behaved Targaryen.

Criston patted his cheek again, humming, "Good. I expect to see you at dinner. Then we shall discuss further plans. Whore."

He crawled off the bed, taking off his messy gloves and tucking them away with a shiver. Disgust crawled up the knight's spine. He turned toward the window as he put his armor back on. Aegon whined, "W-where are you going? Can we not talk about the plans here?"

He glared at the sot, scoffing, "Not like that we will. Get yourself cleaned up, I'll be taking my leave. Listen to as I have told you, Aegon. Criston donned his cloak, inwardly counting how many flogs he would receive for his sin. For the wetness in his breeches. For his hardened cock and desire for Aegon's wanton nature.

Aegon arrived at dinner well-behaved, quiet, and sipping his wine. He cast uneasy looks between Ser Criston and Alicent. The queen smiled, "I know you would help, Ser Cole, he looks better already." Criston watched those pouty lips tremble. Perhaps it soothed the scarred tissue of his heart caused by another. His lips quirked up as he bowed his head, "No issue, my queen, Aegon needs a firmer hand."

[thewritingheirsofslytherin]

Introducing a Harry Potter fest to haunt you…

...as not all that goes bump in the night is meant to be feared…

Gothic Fantasy Fest is a Harry Potter fanworks fest dedicated to and centered around our love for the gothic horror genre!

This fest is hosted by The Writing Heirs of Slytherin Discord Server.

Fest Information

The inspiration to host this fest came out of our desire to see more fanworks in the fandom where the darkness within us all is celebrated, embraced, and reveled in.

The premise for this fest is simple: Create any fanwork (fic or fanart) you like, ensuring that your main protagonist of your work is a Slytherin!

But, and this is where the challenge comes in... your fanwork must incorporate one of the gothic horror prompts that we have provided and must be in the gothic horror genre!

We hope, through participating in this fest, that you’ll allow yourself to indulge in what haunts you most!

Fest Schedule

Sign-ups & Claiming Open: Aug. 5th at 12:00pm PDT

Sign-ups & Claiming Close: Aug. 13th at 11:59pm PDT

Fanworks Due: Oct. 17th at 11:59pm PDT

Fanworks Revealed: Oct. 29th at 12:00pm PDT

Authors & Artists Revealed: Oct. 31st at 12:00pm PDT

For the remainder of our fest rules, read on!

Fest Rules

All levels of writers and artists are welcome! Even if this is your first fest!

All pairings and ship types (platonic, couples, and polyships) are allowed in this fest. You may also choose to focus your fanwork on only one character.

Ensure that your main character of your fanwork is a Slytherin (no exceptions)!

Any Slytherin from any of the Wizarding World eras is welcome. You may also choose to headcanon a non-Slytherin character as a Slytherin.

Your fanwork must incorporate one of the 99 gothic horror prompts that we provide. There are 12 additional Author/Artist’s choice prompts, however, those are first come, first serve. So, they will go quick!

Ensure that your fanwork qualifies as gothic horror. Read our full rules at the link listed below for further clarification on this.

The darker your fic the better, as this fest is the perfect opportunity to create some dark, morally gray, and/or dead-dove works!

Authors: there is no maximum word count for your work. But there is a minimum word count of 1,000 words.

Artists: As long as you follow the guidelines above, you may submit any form of fanart you like, including moodboards! However, AI-generated work and commissioned work from other artists may NOT be submitted!

This fest is an Author/Artist Revealed event. Your fanwork will be revealed on the dates listed above. When the fest is over, we will highlight your fanwork across our social media from Oct. 31st - Nov. 9th.

You do not have to be a member of The Writing Heirs of Slytherin Discord to participate in this fest. However, we do recommend joining so that you can be in contact with other Gothic Fantasy Fest participants! It’s also the quickest way to get a hold of the admin team!

Note: Our server has a 30+ age requirement to join, but this fest is open to fic writers and artists of all ages!

For a complete list of our fest rules and submission guidelines, please click here!

Disclaimer:

Due to the darker subject material of the prompts, please be mindful that the process of creating a submission for this fest may be triggering. So, take care of yourself, honor your limits, and enter at your own risk.

Important Links

Prompts & AO3 Collection

Discord Server

Official Fest Spotify Playlist

Official Fest Mood Board

Fest Tumblr (Follow for all important GFF updates)

[oocontextfanfiction]

“A Deer In Headlights” - ao3

Found this one WAYYYYY too far down the kudos list, let’s all fix that, shall we?

Also rare ship with OG binghe, og mobei, and transmigrator Shang quinghua