#I mean you absolutely knew what to expect from my blog by now

[kalims]

Hi, there! :D

I don't know if my request will be taken into account but you mentioned that it's okay to try.

I am not throwin' away my shot >:D (sorry my indoor theater kid comes out from time to time)

Type: Headcanons

Reader: Neutral

Scenary: The NCR boys see that a student from Noble Bell College or RSA who has been trying to flirt with the prefect, in a bold move steals the prefect's (first) kiss. How would they react and what would they feel?

I feel like it would be a rollercoaster of occurrences and complete chaos in NCR xD

If my request does not convince you, you can discard it without problems, but if not, take your time and without pressure, thank you 💐🌼✨👍✍️I love your TWST fics they always make me smile .

whisk away

premise. despite your many efforts of evading your seeming admirer, they remain persistent in their pursuit. you've considered just leaving them in the dust without an explanation whatsoever but you're too stunned to process the fact that they've just kissed you without a warning. next thing you know there's a murderous aura approaching.

characters. silver, jade, deuce, kalim, vil

note. you didn't really specify which characters jhshs so I took the liberty of scouring your blog and just put the ones you seem to like ^^ and I kid you not, used a wheel for the other 2 lol (so sorry, was gonna post this earlier but got busy since presentations came up so I only finished now.)

silver

has a mixture of shock and anger. which is mostly for your sake honestly, he wasn't gonna intervene cause he felt like you would wanna deal with it on your own so he feels the absolute mortification slipping into his bones. if he wasn't fully awake, then he definitely is now!

fully ready to talk some sense into that idiot who has no sense of space, hello?

last time he knew, you weren't really dating anyone. silver would know if you did, cause you both talk practically everyday and a lover would be something he should be aware of... unless you didn't talk? I mean, who else would just kiss you like that?

someone unpleasant. he decides. one look at your face and he knows immediately that it wasn't something you expected as well.

just pulls up with a rare look of anger directed to the student, brows furrowed, shoulders tense and all. everyone's used to the serene, calm look on his features so seeing him look so different probably put off said student so they scampered after a promise made by silver if they dared to stick around.

"leave, or find out what happens if you don't."

gone is the anger *poof* and is fretting over you now. are you okay? do you want him to knock some sense into that idiot? literally tell him anything, order him to do anything, and he'll do it (within reason) my guy is just here for your sake tbh.

kinda gloomy cause damn, that was your first? he wanted both of yours to be first and some grade a hole just decided to shatter all that. it makes him all the more irritated so if he can't have your first kiss, he'll just take your second, and every single other kiss you'll give.

jade

take the murderous aura and multiply it tenfold!!

jade doesn't really need to reach you and make his presence known by a few words cause it seems like everyone but you within 10 feet radius of him is sensing the murderous aura he's emitting. if it's not feeling that, then it's seeing the eery dark smile present on his face.

and he seems to be having a death march towards a specific direction so everybody knows where to avoid atleast. cause it seems like anyone on his path is gonna get trampled and no one likes a messy hall.

student in front of you pales, deluding themselves that maybe he's just heading somewhere behind them to vent out that rage or something but they glance behind and almost piss their pants when there is in fact, no one present near anywhere and he's getting closer.

so... they wanted to live so they just bolted out. an experience with one of the tweels won't be good news, and if jade is the one who has them in his sights... they'll take the head start thank you very much.

with the students face memorized and tucked into a corner of his mind he smiles almost innocently at you when you spot him and strike the most casual of conversation.

well, that's under the guise atleast. he's shooting you subtle questions about that person to which you reply innocently. oblivious to the grave you're digging for them yourself.

oddly enough jade started being strangely affectionate, a hand on the small of your back, maybe on your shoulder, arm, or a pat on your head as gratitude. but he seems to like kissing the back of your hand a lot...

*turns his head in their direction after kissing your hand*

deuce

I'll be perfectly honest. he doesn't really have much of an impact in terms of the intense aura that should have been felt. he looks a normal degree of angry, that's why the person hasn't gotten chased off even with the clear signs that deuce will be swinging a fist at probes.

unfortunate that's exactly what the person does. despite your clear reaction of disgust they still use you to rile up deuce. cooing at him while reaching for you, and chuckling about how they didn’t even know him, nor is it any of his business to interfere between two... lovers?

oh so they wanted to impact? they're gonna get one right now 👊 since it seems like they want to get to know him so bad they can get well acquainted with his fists, you know?

he made a promise to himself not to get involved with these type of mishaps! or at the very least resort to more peaceful methods than using violence as a sort of communication. the guilt eats him up a little but he thinks he'd never stand for someone who would disrespect you so blatantly!

almost comically, he looks like he spouts a pair of ears that of a dog's and turns to you. looking more apologetic compared to the fiery look he had a second ago, if he had a tail it would be tucked between his legs out of shame or something.

"I'm really sorry," he says. sulking. deuce apologizes to you, not for his choice of knocking out this random in the middle of the street but because of the fact that he did it in front of you. (also he's kinda jealous...)

if asked, he can, and WILL do it again.

don't blame him though! discreetly whisks you away to grab a bite. having literally no regards to the body looking like it's soul got knocked out laying, and looking out of place on the ground. maybe someone will check on them but definitely not him, they deserve it!

kalim

gasps loudly. "noooo!"

which is like a public proclamation that seeing that did everything but please him. which also means he's basically admitting he's jealous in an indirect way, might as well just say he likes you or something (he probably will if asked because he thinks it's nothing worthy of hiding.)

bounds up to you asking who that is quite loudly to the point where it would seem like he just stumbled upon you cheating on him. it doesn't help that he actually looks sad, teary and all. jamil is off, having paused in his trail since he was previously chasing the boy who ran off.

now he isn’t sure if he wants to get involved now. this is so embarrassing.

lowkey other student would just look back and forth to you, then to kalim. the latter in question unintentionally ignored his existence to be honest, since he was too busy shaking your shoulders and probing the answer of you.

"why would you kiss a stranger...?" he trails off, you did answer. kalim is genuinely wondering to himself if it was that easy cause damn, he scratches his head. that made no sense (says the guy who is making no sense.)

he makes it so obvious that he's pondering with the finger under his chin, eyes lost pointed at the air and the unnecessary loud humming... at this point the atmosphere became more awkward because you and the student is staring at him in bewilderment.

drag him off please, and explain it to him elsewhere. public is NOT a good place. so instead of him saving you out of a situation like this, you save him? talk about being built different...

vil

what in the sevens... he surely hopes his eyes are working correctly lest he needs contact lens, or glasses for that matter. either way he'll positively be as beautiful as he ever was.

although he's very pleased that someone notices the extent of your beauty, there are... other ways to express fondness admiration for you, and vil just can't respect someone who doesn't seem to have any shame for themselves for pressing on boundaries.

so this... fool clearly is a mere taint on your image!!! rid of them immediately! you needn't dirty your pretty mouth, rook does love cleansing the world of dirt like them so it's for the better good if they just never dare to appear to your face ever again.

what better way to hurt someone than aim for their pride? *trash talks so good about their attitude that they actually be pondering their life choices*

don't get him wrong. he doesn't like them, like at all. vil can full well do more damage by nit picking details about them they probably aren't even aware of but he'd never willingly give another person a reason to be insecure about themselves, even if they did terrible things.

plus, there's better ways to teach someone a lesson. they'll learn.

who wouldn’t be scared of an angry vil? they scampered away pretty quickly from a few words, even quicker when he mentioned rook but it's their problem to be paranoid whether the hunter is following them or not to be honest.

frets over you right after. living the dream.

#ㅤ◜◡◝ . . signed ! #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst #twst fluff #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland scenarios #silver x reader #twst silver x reader #jade leech x reader #jade x reader #deuce spade x reader #deuce x reader #kalim al asim x reader #kalim x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #vil x reader #x gn reader

[huramuna]

foxfaced, dragonhearted - oneshot.

dark, mean prince regent aemond x wife reader

for my 200 followers poll, i've actually had this one cooking for a while so i'm happy this option won! this is absolutely filthy, i'm sorry in advance.

word count: 2.4k

i don't do taglists any more unfortunately, its mostly because i never remember and then feel bad about it so i've made a second blog just for reblogging my fics! @huramuna-fics -- follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings!

content: slight dub-con, smut (specifics below cut), angst, mean aemond, toxic relationship, like in no way is this healthy, good god, smut with little plot, reader is described being from riverlands w/ auburn hair and brown eyes, no use of y/n, not beta read, i literally went into a haze writing this there are probably mistakes

tonight you belong to me - patience & prudence • vampire - olivia rodrigo

warnings: p in v, choking, breath play, dom/sub, degradation, creampie, cockwarming, orgasm denial, breeding, aemond is so mean here thats its own damn warning

Aemond knew what he wanted and the sacrifices that needed to be made to get such things. He wanted a dragon, it took an eye to get it. He wanted the Conqueror’s crown, it took his brother being burnt to get it. He wanted a legacy that would surpass his lifetime, etched into the very being of Westeros itself. The sacrifice needed for this would be to chain himself to a woman he likely wouldn’t be interested in.

That is where you came in. 

You were sweet, he supposed. Sweet in a way that made his teeth ache. Sweet in a way akin to a mouse and how it looked up at the cat just before his jaws snapped around the mouse’s head. 

He didn’t need to like you. Many marriages were forged in dislike or just plain indifference, set to a mutual goal. He supposed your mutual goal was children. All he needed was to use you as a vessel, a womb for his seed to take hold. 

You poor thing, you didn’t really understand that he didn’t truly care for you. You were nice enough looking, of course– hair that reminded him of autumn leaves, always styled in some intricate style with half a hundred braids, dozens of pins and decorative pearls. You reminded Aemond of a fox, dark eyes against muted auburn fur, lips always pursed, sniffing the air in search for hounds on your tail. You certainly were a skittish, jittery little thing.

The marriage was a quick affair, done at the Sept two days after Aemond wore the Conqueror’s crown for the first time. You weren't a part of some major house, all of the major houses were too close, too greedy, their breaths hot against his neck as they shoved their wedable daughters at him. The last thing he wished for was to be indebted to some trivial lord who thought his name elevated him to the same stratosphere as Aemond– a paltry lady of some low house bred in the Riverlands would do just fine, he expected his Valyrian seed to dominate any of their week genes anyhow.

He had met you once before, many years ago before he lost his eye. When he was forced to tag along on some meager diplomacy meeting with his grandsire– he remembers it as being forced, but in reality, he wished to attend. What else was a second son with no dragon to do? – and you had been there, hiding behind your father’s trousers. You had been wearing a blue dress, he remembered this distinctly, as it stood out against the ruby red of the apple you had offered him. 

Aemond had tried to speak with you, but you only communicated in nods and soft noises– something you only partially grew out of. He never understood why he remembered this girl, as you were insignificant in the seas of faces he’s met over his life. Mayhaps it was your quiet nature that he remembered, something that, now at his age and state of mind, struck him as malleable, easy to mold into what he needed you to be. 

And so it shall be. 

–

It was about two and a half moons after your marriage, he returned from a late council meeting. Rubbing his eye, feeling the familiar thrum of pain right behind the socket, he was already in a particularly sour mood. The council meeting had gone south, ending in most of the lords bickering over one another like children. 

It irritated Aemond to no end, the strain of an oncoming headache ever looming. He still struggled with intense pain from his eye, or rather, his socket and severed nerves. The pain was debilitating at times and if anyone dared to test his patience when it was particularly bad, he would snap at them like a cornered animal, no matter who it was. 

Raising his head, he noticed the hearth was still going strong, multiple candles still lit in the solar, despite it being late at night. The now familiar crop of auburn hair was peeking from behind the couch— his wife was usually never up this late. 

“Why are you still awake, wife?” he asked as he took off his gloves, clenching and unclenching his fists. 

“… reading. I was waiting for you.” you murmured in your usual hushed tone, the sound of your book closing was louder than your voice. 

“I told you not to do that. It’s unnecessary.” he grunted in response, undoing the latches of his leather doublet. 

“I-I don’t mind it… I just sleep a bit easier…” you continued, no doubt twiddling the end of your braid between your fingers— an anxious habit.

“You need proper rest. I won’t have my wife looking like a sleepless, sloven mess,” Aemond chastised, discarding his shirt. “Now, what are you reading?” he was becoming increasingly irritated with you, feeling as if he had to force you to take care of yourself and unlatch you like a leech from him. When you looked upon him with your wide eyes filled with uncertainty and fear, he felt the overwhelming urge to wrap his fingers around your throat and squeeze until you passed out or mayhaps went limp, like a doll.

“Oh,” you slid the book towards him on the side table, it was a book on the history of Old Valyria and its language, usually used for children to begin speaking it. “Nyke j-jaelagon… naejot ēdrugon… va ao.” I wish to sleep next to you. 

Aemond’s brow furrowed. “What use do you have to learn High Valyrian, wife? Issa dōna ābrazȳrys mijegon nykeā notion isse zȳhon bartos, wanting naejot gūrēñagon mirros ziry daor.” My sweet wife without a thought in her head, wanting to learn something she cannot. 

You reached for the book, your comprehension not skilled enough yet to pull what Aemond was saying to you. Before you could grab it, he slammed his hand down on the book, effectively snatching it from your grasp. You pouted her bottom lip. “I want to learn… mayhaps it might bring us closer together.” 

Aemond scoffed, the sound sending a sting of pain right into the core of your chest. “We are as close as we need to be, little one. We are married in the eyes of Gods and men and we fulfill our marital duty by trying to produce heirs, hm?” He placed the book back on the shelf. “This nonsense of wanting to be closer is moot. I won’t hear of it anymore.” 

A glaze of sorrow flashed through your eyes before you got up from the couch, tightening the housecoat around your shoulders. 

“Come to bed,” he said, moreso as a command than a suggestion. “I know you are cold, ābrazȳrys.” Wife. 

You made a small noise of discernment, crawling into bed after him. 

He looped his arms around you, pressing you to his bare chest. He radiated heat like a furnace and was quick to warm you up– you were always so cold, he noted. He surely hoped that your children together would inherit his fiery blood and not the weak-willed, uninsulated Andal blood you possessed.

Aemond bounced from being indifferent to you, paying you no more mind than a maid or a whore, to needing you, every part of you. He didn’t see you as a person, moreso an extension of himself, latched onto his body until he consumed you entirely, your bones fusing together as one. To him, you were a doll or plaything to entertain him, testing the mettle of your will, to see if you were of poor craftsmanship and would break. He had always broken his toys as a child.

You could tell by the rhythm of his breathing, he wasn’t going to sleep just yet– you’d become very attuned to his moods, his small intakes of air against your neck causing your skin to prickle into goosebumps. His lips ghosted over your throat, one of his arms coming up to wrap near the base of your windpipe, not yet applying pressure, but the threat was there. 

No, it wasn’t so much as a threat than it was a promise– he quite liked applying pressure to your airways when you coupled, his lone violet eye centered intently on yours as they went from wide to half-lidded, soft whimpers of pleading to stop, sometimes for more, more. He relished in holding your very life in his hands and you let him. 

“Mayhaps I should get you a collar, wife,” he hummed, his voice husky and deep, reverberating deep within your chest as your heart pounded. “But I think you like my hands much better, don’t you?” 

“Y-yes,” you breathed, the small swallowing bob of your throat felt against the palm of his hand, causing him to grin. “... I fancy them– on my tender neck… between my legs…” you responded, feeling slightly bold at the notion you put forth. The heat of his body permeated your skin, warming your core into an ever familiar feeling.

Aemond all but growled at your comment, positioning the both of you to where you were laying with your back upon him, as if you were lazing upon him like a chair. “Feeling courageous tonight, are we? No matter, my dear, you will break all the same,” his mouth pressed to the shell of your ear, teeth nipping at your lobe. “Like every night before, and every night to come– your life is in my hands,” he enunciated this with a squeeze to your neck, eliciting a small mewl from you. “Is it not? Say it.”

“M-my life– belongs to you, husband,” you managed to squeak out.

“Not husband, not now. You know the rules.”

“M-my king, your grace,” you rephrased quickly.

He clicked his tongue in slight admonishment. “A bit slow on the take tonight, little one,” Aemond muttered, slotting his leg between yours and kicking your thighs apart. “Keep them open.” his voice was dripping with something between venom and sticky sweet honey. He felt akin to a God every time he was in the sky, every time he sat the throne with the crown on his head, and every time he rested his hand on your pretty little throat as he sheathed himself to the hilt inside of you so easily, so free of resistance. “So slick for me, just from the smallest of chokes– fucking whore.” he hissed, starting a slow, deliberate pace as his hips met against your bottom. The pair of you were like two threads, intertwined with his legs pretzeling around yours, keeping you spread open. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as he continued to bully that sensitive, spongy spot within you– but you craved so much more, feeling waves of heat emanate from your sensitive bud as it screamed at your brain, begging to be touched. You made the critical error, thinking your husband was too focused on his own pleasure to notice you going for your own, as your hand slowly descended between your legs, rubbing small circles upon your pearl.

How wrong you were.

His arm came up further, his bicep pressing to the bottom of your chin, his free palm slapping your hand away from yourself. “Are you truly fucking stupid tonight, wife?” he spat, stilling his thrusts. “When did I say you could touch yourself? Have I fucked you stupid already?” Aemond huffed in frustration. “My poor, dumb wife– you cannot do anything right, can you?” he slid you off of him, then flipped over to loom atop you, taking both of your hands within one of his, his large hand encapsulating your wrists with ease, trapping them above your head. 

You sniffed, tears welling at your lash line, threatening to spill– not just from his downright mean admonishments, but from your stolen gluttony, your pleasure stolen so close to the precipice. “‘M sorry, your grace,” you cried, “Forgive me.”

“You’re lucky you have such a sweet cunt,” Aemond mused, his immodest and downright sinful language going straight to your core as he nestled inside of you once more, menacing atop you like a darkening cloud. “I forgive you– and will even pleasure you. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To come?”

You nodded fervently, your lamenting tears spilling over and running down your cheeks.

“I’m feeling quite generous, then– I’ll let you. If you beg me.”

“P-please–” you blubbered, “Please let me come, my king.”

A sickly smirk came over his face once more as he pushed forward again, not bothering with the slow and meticulous pace he had before. His hips slammed into yours as he surged into you, as if you were nothing more than a cocksleeve for his pleasure. And yet, and yet– his hand didn’t move to the apex of your legs, chasing his own high before he would give into yours.

“Aemond, please, please– please touch me, f-fuck, your grace– my k-king, please!” you were all but wailing now, half in ecstasy and half in pure beseechment, pleading for just some semblance of the lecherous, stimulating and lewd sensation that only he could give you.

He took mercy on you, the pad of his thumb zeroing in on your leaking folds, giving your clit a cheeky pinch. It was a delightful pain– that was what being with Aemond was, what it came down to. Every waking moment with him was thrilling, sublime, agonizing, unending torture– and you fucking loved it. 

Your mouth hung open, you were sobbing freely now, your lips quirked into a euphoric and maddened smile. “Thank you, tha-nk you, t-thank you, I love you, I love you,” you gasped, your lungs ballooning with air as you begged him further, “P-please, around my neck–” 

Something animalistic came out of Aemond at your request, his hand draping around your throat like a necklace. “My sweet, dumb wife– you don’t know what to do unless I tell you, unless I let you, unless I guide you to your release, hm?” he prostrated each word with a deep thrust. The combination of his ministrations on your bundle of nerves, the head of his cock callously beating into your sweet spot, and the squeeze of his hand around your neck– it was enough. 

With a garbled string of words, prayers, denotes of love, pronouncements of his prowess, his titles, his name– the coil inside of you snapped, lighting every nerve you had in your body on fire. You saw stars as your climax wracked through you like a tempest, the absolute vice grip of your core sending Aemond into his own completion, his seed painting your walls and then some.

In your fucked-out delirium, you thought you might’ve heard him say something– you didn’t decipher it until later when you were half asleep, his softened member still lodged inside of you somehow as he curled you into his chest.

“My love, my wife– I love you.”

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fic #aemond fanfic #aemond smut #dark aemond smut #dark aemond angst #my writing

[eimids]

Don’t care about them

Alexia Putellas x reader

i’m gonna keep writing to annoy that rude anon😉

this is inspired by this whole situation going on in my blog!! enjoy nonnie i know you are reading this😚😚

warnings: bad body image, rude comments, angst

You and Alexia had dated for a year before your relationship became public. It wasn’t ideal but you were happy that now you were able to show to the world your girlfriend.

The press was having a field day after your relationship came out with the one and only, Alexia Putellas. They were writing about your life and every single thing you ever did.

That wasn’t the worst part. It was the fact that they were talking about your body and looks. Giving their opinions on your posts on instagram. Judging and criticizing if you are worthy enough for Alexia, the star player of Spain and Barca.

The articles weren’t all that bad but the comments were.

Under a photo with you wearing heavier makeup than usual.

“She wears way too much makeup, i bet she’s actually ugly and just maskes it behind that makeup”

If you weren’t wearing makeup.

“She’s so ugly, look at those eyebags. she doesn’t deserve Alexia”

Then there was a photo of you in a bikini.

“🤢 look at those things and that stomach. she should be a lot skinnier. alexia deserves much better than that”

“She’s trying so hard to suck her stomach in it’s pathetic”

“I wouldn’t be posting bikini pictures with that body”

You quickly decided to turn off the comments on specific posts. Not wanting to hear the mean words they said about you.

You went through the rabbit hole of scrolling and reading through every single comment before deleting the comments. It wasn’t good for you but you couldn’t help it. Just needing to read what they said about you. Some comments were actually nice. Telling you how cute you and Alexia were together. Probably most of them were nice but they went to blind eyes. You were only able to see the negative ones.

It quickly became too much for you. You actually started to believe the comments about Alexia deserving better. You started to isolate from her and from everyone. It was easy since Alexia was in the Spain women’s camp during international break.

It started as you just not replying to her texts so often and missing some of her calls but it quickly escalated to you completely ignoring her. You thought she wouldn’t care about your absence in her life but she did.

In fact she was stressing the whole camp about it. She didn’t perform as well and you were in her mind constantly. She thought she did something wrong. Luckily for her there was only one more day of camp and then she would see you again and solve this situation. She knew that whatever it was, you could work through it. You always did.

When Alexia came back home finally she found you in your shared bed. She noticed the dry tears on your cheeks and your phone in your hand. She decided to unlock it to see what it was.

She was horrified when she saw all the comments about you. How could anyone say those things about her precious girl. The girl who wouldn’t hurt or say anything bad about anyone. She hated that this was somewhat her fault. Her being a public figure, it was hard to avoid those comments.

She closed your phone and took her own in her hands to post quickly on her instagram. After that she cuddled close to you. Not wanting to wake you up but also wanting you as close as possible. She stayed like that for a while before falling asleep herself.

The next morning you woke up to the soft hands caressing your body. So gently touching every part of your body while whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

“Should we break up?”

That wasn’t at all what Alexia expected from your mouth and she tensed up immediately.

“What, why” She asked breathlessly.

“I don’t deserve you. They all say it. You deserve much better than me” You said while looking into her beautiful eyes. Tears creeping in your own.

“Absolutely not. You are more than enough and i love you more than anything my beautiful girl” She answered then quickly followed “You don’t actually wanna break up, right?” She asked nervously.

“No” You said and shook your head. You started crying to her about all the mean stuff in your comments. She listed carefully and assured that none of them were true.

The rest of the day she showed just how much she loved you and you stayed in bed for the whole day. Just before you went to sleep you checked your instagram. To your surprise there was a post from Alexia made the day before.

Liked by yourinstagram, Lucy Bronze and 1, 456, 789 others.

alexiaputellas: my beautiful, amazing, kind and loving girlfriend 🩷 te quiero mi niña

the comments you been writing about this beautiful soul are horrible and i disagree with them all. i couldn’t ask for anything better and if we are being honest, i don’t know how i deserve her but i’m so lucky to have her in my life<3

so for anyone who has been sending those comments, just stop. if you’re own life is that boring then maybe get some help 🙂

me and my girl will enjoy our life together 🤝

no me importa lo que piensen los demás✨

—

hehee

#woso community #woso x reader #woso fanfics #wlw post #lucy bronze #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas marry me #fluff #barca femeni

[changbunnies]

All About You, (18+)

♡ Pairing: Royal Knight/Bodyguard!Minho x Princess!Reader

♡ Genre: royal au, historical au, arranged marriage au (reader only), age gap, angst, kind of forbidden love? (maybe more than kind of), basically porn with plot

♡ Word Count: 7.5k

♡ Summary: You, the princess who ran away from the castle after finding out your father, the king, has finalized your arranged marriage. Minho, your royal knight and glorified bodyguard, tasked with bringing you back home at all costs. When found, you hit Minho with a very interesting proposition- for him to be the one you share all your "firsts" with, instead of your inevitable husband.

♡ Warnings: age gap !! reader is ~23 while minho is in his 40s, please don't read if this makes you uncomfortable!, uneven power dynamics, outdated traditions and views on women to suit the setting, brief reference to death by guillotine, and death in general, mentions of injury and swordfighting

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): lowkey corruption kink, loss of virginity (reader), petnames (princess (mostly as a title), good girl), slight sub + dom dynamics, soft dom minho, submissive reader, a lot of kissing (should be expected from me atp), nipple play, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), slight overstim, unprotected piv, multiple orgasms, creampie

♡ Notes: at this point i am determined to write a royal, historical au fic for every member, and my newest offering to you is minho <3 i was literally possessed writing this like once the idea hit my brain i had to get it out asap lmao you can also read the story on my ao3 here, and if you're interested you can also check out my fic rec and feedback blog @stray-dreams

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

Fuck. Minho was absolutely fucked. In recent years, he had one job, and one job only, and that was to take care of the princess. Make sure she’s safe, escort her to where she needs to be and watch over her at all times- that’s all. Not always an easy job, but one of vital importance that Minho took with utmost seriousness. In the 3 years it’s been since becoming your royal knight and glorified bodyguard, he never messed up this critically. 

You always had a rebellious streak and challenged authority, everyone in the castle knew that. And part of Minho’s job, apart from keeping you safe, was keeping you in check- and the king made it extremely clear that failing to do so was not an option. So he lost track of the amount of times he uttered the words “Princess, please think rationally,” or “Please consider your responsibility to the kingdom, don’t do this,” in a near desperate attempt to get you to listen to reason. 

And today, he fucked up the worst he ever had. He knew you were upset tonight, but he was under the impression he successfully calmed you down, and that you wouldn’t do anything rash. He turned his back to you, thinking the storm had been quelled, and that you’d listen to your father, even if doing so felt like pulling teeth. He underestimated however, just how deep your sadness and anger truly ran, and the very moment you saw an opening, you took it. 

You fled from the castle with blind determination, nowhere to go and with little of value in your hands, fueled purely by the desire to escape your unfair circumstances, and live your own life by your own means. You may not believe it, but Minho understood, and felt for you- he really did. But that didn’t change what his duty was, and even if it made you hate him, he had to do his job to the best of his ability. 

So now here he was, roaming the streets looking for you, the hours passing in a blur. You must’ve done a good job of concealing your identity, because no one he asked had seen a young woman matching your description, and as the minutes ticked by, and sunset turned to midnight, he was at a complete loss of what to do. He made record time combing the entire bustling town, stopping into places full to the brim with people in the hopes he’d catch a glimpse of you in the crowd, and yet there seemed to be no trace of you anywhere. 

It was easy for someone to hide their presence in a crowd, or in the rowdy environment of a tavern, and you were more than intelligent enough to blend into a crowd and divert attention away from yourself. It was entirely possible that Minho had seen you at some point, and simply didn’t realize it, though he liked to believe he’d recognize you anywhere, no matter what you wore. Minho scowled, clenching his teeth as he scanned the dark horizon of the treeline; should he check the outer walls of the town for a clue, or double back and check the streets again?

He doubts you made it out of the town easily, considering you likely had no money on your person and little experience with the realities of the world. You were intelligent, yes, but sheltered; he could easily imagine you quickly getting in over your head, thinking you could make it to the next town without issue, only to end up lost and in need of help, with no one for miles to hear your desperate cries. 

Fuck. If he couldn’t find you, his head would most certainly be meeting the cold steel of a guillotine. He had no family who would mourn his loss, but still, he wasn’t ready to face his mortality. And the king, despite being someone he could call a close friend, would spare no mercy if he failed to keep his one and only daughter safe. But really, there was more to it than just the threat of death that kept him searching for you. Believe it or not, he genuinely wanted you safe and well, and he'd do anything to ensure you made it back home, even if it made you curse him for the rest of his days. 

As if God himself heard his prayers and decided to grant him a miracle, Minho sees you- there, on the outskirts of town, holding your cold hands up to your face and letting your breath warm them. It’s dark, the street barely even illuminated enough to discern your recognizable features, but he knows without a doubt that it's you standing there in the cold street, because truly, he knows you anywhere. 

By the time you realize you’ve been spotted and recognized, it’s already much too late to flee. Minho approached you with utmost haste, reaching out and grabbing your arm, lest you make the foolish decision to try to escape again. His hold, while not rough enough to hurt you, is firm, and it only takes one attempt at pulling your arm from his hold to know this is it; your escape attempt has failed, and you’ll be dragged back to the castle and reprimanded for your “temper tantrum.” 

Your father never listens to you, no matter how hard you try to make him understand and see your point of view. Maybe if you were born a boy, your opinions would be important to him, and he’d see you are more than an object to pawn off to whatever man gave him the most political power. “Princess-” “I’m not going home,” you interject before he even has a chance, though you already know it’s in vain. There is no avoiding returning to your glorified prison now that Sir Minho has you in his grasp. 

He sighs, but his face changes to one of sympathy, his grip on your arm loosening ever so slightly. “Can we at least go to an inn room? It’s not safe for a young lady to be on the streets at night,” he reasons with you, as gently as he can manage. Normally Minho is quite stern with you, but you get the impression that he feels being stern isn’t the right approach tonight. You’re known for expressing yourself very vocally, even when doing so is extremely ill-advised, and he is well aware of how opinionated and fiery you are. 

But treating this display as anything other than a genuine act of desperation, a culmination of years of perceived disrespect and conformity, would be another critical error- one he can’t afford to make. So he will be firm, yes, but gentle in his approach. You frown as you look at him; you’re stubborn by nature, and part of you wants to fight against him until the bitter end, but he’s not wrong about the streets being unsafe for you at night. You know he won’t let you escape again come morning, but that’ll have to be a problem for later; for right now, you really should heed his advice and go to an inn for the night. 

“Fine,” you concede, much to Minho’s relief. He could’ve forced you to go with him if he really needed to, but he’d rather avoid doing something so unpleasant. He leads you to a nearby tavern, which is still bustling with activity even at the late hour. He keeps you close as he pushes through the crowd of rowdy drunks to the dual innkeep-bartender, hoping that there is still a room available. The man departs, coming back with a key dangling in hand, “You’re in luck. Last room’s all yours.” 

Minho thanks the man and pulls out his satchel to pay him, leaving a few extra coins as a tip before stashing it back in his pocket, along with the key he was given, and the two of you go up the stairs together. “There’s only one bed,” you comment as you step inside the room, though Minho doesn’t seem to care much about that fact. “That’s fine, don’t plan on sleeping anyways,” he says as he removes his leather scabbard from his back, resting it against the back of the chair in the corner of the room. 

You frown as you sit on the bed and watch him; he must’ve been in a hurry when he received word you fled from the castle, as he wasn’t wearing any of his armor, strictly in casual wear you’d very rarely seen him in. Probably for the best, you think, because if anyone saw a royal knight desperately searching the streets, multiple alarms would be raised. He lights the fireplace, hoping to quickly spread some heat throughout the cold room, before he sits in the chair, crossing his arms and watching you carefully. 

Deserved, you suppose. How is he supposed to trust you’re not going to flee at the first available moment just as before? You certainly don’t make his job easy for him; he can’t take his eyes off you for a second. The silence between you lingers for some time, the crackling of the fire the only sound either of you hear, apart from the muffled patrons enjoying their drinks downstairs. Minho, despite his relaxed posture, looks like he’d be ready to jump up at a moment's notice should he need to. 

You sigh; should you just try to sleep? It’d feel awkward and uncomfortable to try to fall asleep with someone's eyes boring holes into you, but you really didn’t give him much of a choice. “Do you want to tell me why you ran away from the castle?” Minho asks suddenly, breaking the tempered silence between you. “You already know the answer to that,” you respond, crossing your own arms now. 

“Is marrying Sir Jin really so bad?” he asks, and you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Yes, obviously. I don’t want to. Not that you or my father care about me or anything I think.” Minho’s brow furrows, the frown on his face growing. “Princess, you know that’s not true. I do care about you.” “Do you? I haven’t been able to tell in the slightest,” you counter a bit harshly, “and you could help me if you wanted to, you know. I’d be fine out there if I was with you.”

Okay, maybe you’re not being fair to Minho right now. You do know he cares, but realistically, what is he supposed to do? If he disobeyed your fathers orders, he’d be lucky if his only punishment was a swift death. He was assigned to you because your father trusts him to do the right thing and follow orders dutifully, a trust that is usually not misplaced. But he has to admit, the more and more time he spends with you, the more he feels for you. 

Minho never knew your father, the king, to be an unreasonable or cruel man, but in your eyes, he might as well be the devil himself. And maybe he is cruel- because how do you strip someone of their freedom and choices for your own gain, and not see the harm it causes, the wrong in it? You are more than a pawn, more than a subject, more than his daughter- you are a person. A person with thoughts, feelings, and opinions as real as any mans, who did not deserve to be treated lesser than for the simple crime of being born a girl. 

But what is Minho if not an upholder of the status quo? He was just a single man, and even if he recognized how unfairly you were treated in comparison to the golden child that was your elder brother, what was he supposed to do? He always performed his tasks dutifully and without question, and it wasn’t until he met you that he began to struggle with what he should do, and what he wants to do.

And maybe he could get you out of this town, help you live a quiet, modest life somewhere new, away from the watchful eye of your father. Where he could be your protector, same as now, but without the guilt, burden, or threats. You know you shouldn’t take your frustrations about your life out on Minho, but he’s really all you have. You trust him with your life, and he’s shown you multiple times that he cares about you beyond the duty he has to you, or to your father. He's your only confidant, the only person in the world you can rely on. 

Your eyes linger on the scar across his nose- he got it protecting you, the other man’s sword barely missing his eyes and cutting just across his face, and it was only one of many scars he obtained in his service to you. He’d pick you up and run with you in his arms when you were injured, he’d fight off attackers without breaking a sweat, sustain injury after injury all to make sure you were safe. You’d watch his back, always stunned and mesmerized at the ease at which he cut down your enemies, as if they were nothing but paper. 

When he’d turn back to you, breathing heavy and sweat only just starting to trickle on his brow, his eyes would turn from the harshest winter chill to the gentle warmth of a spring morning. He was quiet, stern, but his care ran far deeper than one would think just by looking at him, and all you had to do to see the true depth of his feelings was look in his eyes. So you knew it was unfair to accuse him of not caring about you, to expect him to go above and beyond for you, to ask that he go against your father to give you what you want, but you were just so sad, frustrated, angry, that you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Maybe you’ll grow to love him if you give him a chance,” Minho suggests; you both know that’s never going to happen, but what else can he say? He never married, and had no children, dedicated to his duty as he was; he had no real advice to offer someone when it came to love, romance, and the like, but he imagined it wasn’t impossible to fall in love if you just met Sir Jin with an open mind.

But as stated, that’s never going to happen. You’re stubborn to a fault, and once you’ve decided something, there’s no changing it. The best Minho can ever manage to do is get you to reconsider, but even then, you’re still likely to go about things the way you originally wanted to, with no regard for consequences or keeping up appearances. You’re a fiery woman, there was no doubt about it, and you don’t let go of things easily. 

“The mere thought of giving that man all my firsts makes me sick, it’s vile,” you scrunch up your nose, making your distaste for the man very clear. Minho doesn’t even think you’ve actually met the man yet, but you’ve already decided you hate him, that you don’t want to marry him, and so you’ll be firmly stuck in your opinion no matter what anyone says. 

“Maybe this isn’t advice I should be giving you, but.. You don’t necessarily have to. To give him your firsts, or love him. Find someone you do love, even if you have to keep it a secret, and hold him with all you’ve got. It still wouldn’t be ideal, of course, but.. Well, it’d be something, at least.” Really, Minho is supposed to encourage you to be an obedient daughter and listen to your father without question, but he knows you well enough to know that’s a fool's errand. 

You’re never going to listen, never going to be obedient, never going to stop being opinionated. So what’s the next, most realistic piece of advice he can give? Lie, of course. Make your father and inevitable husband believe you’re a good, obedient wife and daughter, and then go live the life you really want behind their backs. It's dishonest as all hell, and there would be consequences if you got caught, but if you’re going to be miserable no matter what you do, you might as well try, right? It’s what Minho would do if he were you, anyways. 

“What about you?” you ask and Minho raises a brow in question. “What about me?” he asks, and what you respond with makes him feel like the air has been punched out of his lungs. “What if I gave my firsts to you?” Did he hear you right? There must be some mistake with his ears, there’s absolutely no way you said what he thinks you did. “You.. what?” Surely you can’t be serious about this. You’re the princess, and he’s just the man who happens to be your guard, a man who is your fathers age at that. 

But the way you look at him, he can tell you’re not joking in the slightest. “Princess, I couldn’t possibly accept that,” Minho says sternly, his arms no longer crossed but instead resting on the arms of the chair, hands beginning to grip tightly so he can ground himself and try to make sense of this insane situation. “Why not? I’d be happier if I gave it to someone like you. I trust you,” you say so nonchalantly it makes his head reel. What the fuck is happening right now? 

Minho was the ideal man, at least in your opinion. He was handsome, mature, realistic and practical, knew how to reel you in without disregarding the root of what you feel or being disrespectful to you. He never dismissed how you felt, made you feel over emotional or like a fool who overreacts; he’d ask you to see reason, sure, urge you to think more before acting, but he never, never made you feel like your feelings were invalid. And he genuinely cared about you, and you liked him, were attracted to him, so if the opportunity presented itself then.. Why not take the chance? 

Fuck. Minho was absolutely fucked. You were just freshly 20 when Minho first met you and became your guard, and hard as he tried to never see you beyond the platonic, he’s always viewed you as an attractive young woman. He liked your fiery spirit, liked how you had the bravery and gall to challenge authority, a skill that in recent months he felt he was sorely lacking. Your attitude was refreshing, and despite your circumstances, you never acted like a damsel in need of his help. 

In a different life, in another world, maybe you two could have met as equals, not painfully stuck to the rules of an unfair, unforgiving reality. You’d be each other's foil, you, the impassioned dreamer with as many thoughts and ideas as there were stars in the sky, and he the realist, who didn’t dim your light but tempered it into a steady, sustainable flame. You’d take him out on adventures, out of the strict box of his comfort zone, and he’d ground you more firmly to reality, never discouraging your dreams but making sure you took the necessary steps in the right way, responsibly, matching one another perfectly, complementary and meant for each other. 

But that’s not your reality, and you both know it. There would never be any coming back from this if you go through with it, and there’s no ideal, happy future for you two to share. “I’m not so disillusioned to think this would be anything other than sex for you,” you continue, and he swallows, mind still racing impossibly, “but it’d be much more meaningful for me with you than some bastard I don’t like in the slightest.” 

You’re wrong. So wrong, and you don’t even know it. It would never be “just sex” with you. You mean much, much more to him than you even realize. “You won’t regret asking a man like me? There’d be no taking it back once it’s done,” Minho can’t help but ask, rationality and reason desperately trying to gain control. 

Despite what your father may believe, you’re a grown woman capable of making your own decisions. And this is a decision you make with full knowledge of what it means for you, more than willing to accept whatever consequences may arise for committing such a sin. In an ideal world, you’d be allowed to love who you wish, live where you wish, do what you wish. 

But this isn’t an ideal world, and if there is only one thing you can ever be granted in this life that feels as if it isn’t even your own, it would be this- to have one night, just one night, where you can be the person you want to be, with Minho by your side. “You’re free to reject me if you’re not attracted to me, but.. My only regret would have been not trying. So I ask, are you not attracted to me?” 

He looks you over carefully, grip on the armrests tightening. Admitting that he’s attracted to you may as well be a death sentence. But he can’t lie to you, completely at your mercy. Fuck the king, it’s you he’s really loyal to. All he’s ever done, all he ever will do, it’s always for you. He’s always tried to act in your best interest, to do the right thing, to keep you safe and protected. But does keeping you safe even matter if you’re miserable? 

“I am,” Minho swallows, answering honestly despite his better judgment, “You have no idea how attracted to you I am.” “So why hesitate?” you ask, fingers trail down your lap, over your knees, to where the very bottom of your dress lies. He watches you, eyes darting from your hands back to your face. You’re watching him too, carefully, considering his every reaction before you make your next move, impressively calculated. 

You take the hem of your dress in your hands, pulling it up leisurely, getting it halfway up your thighs, and Minho is in front of you in an instant, his hands grabbing your wrists and stopping you from lifting it any further. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Princess,” he breathes, voice low and strained; he can’t lose control of his desires, but fuck, you’re making it so hard. You look up at him, meeting his gaze with the same fiery determination you always have, but there’s more there than just that this time. Desire, want, need- all for him.

Fuck it. He’s going to get burned, but maybe it’s worth it. You’ll be his funeral pyre, engulfing him in your flame until all that remains are the ashes of the man he was supposed to be. And what a beautiful way to end his life it will be, lost between your thighs, feeling your nails dig and claw at his skin. He lets go of your wrists, one of his hands coming to cup your face, thumb tracing over your bottom lip. 

“Has anyone ever kissed you, Princess?” he asks and you give a slight shake of the head, breathing a soft “No..” He hums, and there’s a twisted sort of pleasure he derives from knowing he’ll be your first in every conceivable way. You’re not “innocent,” he knows you’re not, but there’s something about being your first kiss, your first cock, your first everything that makes him crazy. 

“And you want me to be the first one to kiss you?” he follows up with another question, corners of his mouth threatening to twist into a smile when you nod, a soft, honest “yes” leaving your lips effortlessly. He leans down towards you, keeping your head tilted up so he can easily meet your lips. He does so softly, treating you with care. His lips are softer than you expected, and the feeling of them against your own fills you with butterflies. 

He carefully tilts you back, and you let your body fall back onto the mattress, head hitting the surprisingly soft pillows. Minho crawls over you, spreading your legs apart just enough to get between them, your dress now hiked all the way up your thighs. He’s hovering over you, looking down at you with so much love and lust and that it leaves you speechless. “I’ll need you to listen to me tonight. Can you do that for me?” he asks, pressing light kisses to your jaw, under your ear, your neck. 

You can, because it’s Minho. He’d never hurt you, never try to control you, never make you feel lesser than. So you can listen to him, because you trust him with your care; he’ll take good care of you, you know he will. He smiles when you nod, and you see him smile so rarely that it makes your heart skip a beat; his role always requires him to be so stern and straight faced, that seeing him smile down at you like this is enough to melt you into a puddle. 

“You’re a good girl when you want to be, hmm?” he hums against your neck, resuming his trail of kisses against your skin, and you can’t explain why, but the words and tone he says them in makes your stomach flip. If you were in a different world, and didn’t have to return home to the castle tomorrow, he’d take his time marking your neck, filling it with pretty shades of blue, purple, and red, sinking his teeth into your soft, supple skin.

He just knows you’d look so pretty like that, and the way you react when his breath tickles your skin and his lips linger, tells him you’d like it too. His fingers trail down your body, finding the hem of your dress and pulling it up over your chest. You lift your back off the bed when he separates from your neck, pulling your dress off the rest of the way and discarding it to the floor. He kisses you as he fiddles with the straps of your bra, effortlessly unhooking it in the back and pulling it down your arms and off your body. 

He may have never married, but he’s no stranger to being with and pleasuring women. And he’ll make sure he makes this a night you’ll always remember for all the right reasons. Capturing your lips in another kiss, his hands take in your now bare breasts, gently kneading and squeezing. You try to squeeze your legs together, but his place between your thighs stops the act from happening, and he chuckles against your lips when he realizes what you’re doing. 

“Be patient, Princess, I’ll take good care of you,” he whispers before kissing you again, and you let out a small whine, not knowing exactly what you want but knowing you want something. You gasp when he takes your nipples between your fingers and pinches them, not too hard of course, but enough to give him the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your body shudders, you feel dizzy with pleasure and excitement, and the feeling of his tongue circling yours is impossibly intoxicating. 

One of his hands travels down, over your stomach, coming between your bodies to feel your heat over your panties. He’s barely even begun and you’re already soaking the fabric, your eager anticipation for more of his touch palpable beyond all else. He nips at your bottom lip, gently tugging it between his teeth before soothing the sting with kitten licks, his hand slipping inside your panties to feel how slick you’ve gotten directly. 

Your body jolts when his fingers run between your folds, and he barely has to move them at all to get his fingers completely coated in your juices. He pulls back to look at you, taking in the sight of your flushed face and swollen lips, pretty and perfect. You’re panting, breathless, overwhelmed in the best way possible. You keen when his fingers rub over your clit in circles, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you lift your head from the pillows to watch. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks, suppressing a grin when you whine and quickly nod your head. “Want more, want you,” you mutter, the most timid you’ve ever been in regards to a man. He coos, giving you a sweet kiss as he continues his stimulation to your sensitive spot. “Remember what I said? Patience, Princess, you’ll get what you want. We can’t rush and have you getting hurt, can we?” 

You pout as you concede, and God, he finds that so cute; he’s never seen you actually act shy and pouty before, and it makes him want to give you the entire world. He’ll give you everything you want, anything you ask for, but he’ll have to remember to tease you first so he can see that cute expression on your face before he gives in to your whims. “I’ll make sure you’re nice and ready for my cock, so just be a good girl and follow my lead until then. You can do that for me easily, can’t you?”

Another shy nod, another adorable flushed look that makes his cock throb in his trousers. It was a little intimidating for you, knowing how experienced Minho must be due to his age, and feeling like you must fall short in comparison to other women, women who knew what they were doing, but really, that was just your own insecurity talking. He didn’t mind at all that you were inexperienced; in fact, it excited him for reasons he didn’t entirely understand. 

Maybe it was the knowledge that he was the first to touch your skin, or maybe that someone as determined and fiery as you are is allowing yourself to concede control, to let him be in charge of your pleasure, trusting him to bring you to utmost bliss. What bigger display of trust could you ever show him? Your glassy, pleading eyes, begging him for more but still waiting for it just as he asked- you’re too good for him. He’s going to ruin you. 

He takes his fingers away, and you have to physically stop yourself from whining at the lack of contact, lest he remind you again about “being patient.” “Open your mouth for me,” Minho requests, and though you are a bit confused, you do as he asks immediately, obeying without question. Fuck, that’s hot; the image of you, mouth open, tongue slightly sticking out and waiting to receive whatever he gives you is something he never wants to forget. 

Minho slides two of his fingers into your mouth, instructing you to lick, to get his fingers nice and wet. Truthfully, you were more than lubricated enough to take his fingers without this step, but he couldn’t resist the urge to see you this way. He pushes his fingers in your mouth down to the knuckle, and you persist with coating them in your saliva even as you gag and tears prick the corners of your eyes. 

He showers you with praise, slipping his fingers out of your mouth when he feels satisfied with the work you’ve done on them, kissing your cheeks, feeling the heat of your face on his lips. Slipping his hand back inside your panties, he presses the tips of his wet fingers to your hole, and you instinctively suck in a breath, body unconsciously tensing from the anticipation. “You have to relax, Princess, it won’t feel good if you’re tense,” he explains sweetly, shaking his head when you mutter a soft apology. 

“Don’t be sorry, not for that. Just focus on me, hmm? On this,” he whispers, his lips lingering on yours in a deep, impassioned kiss. His fingers stay completely still until he feels your body start to release its tension, heeding his advice to focus more on his kisses than the motion of his fingers. He keeps kissing you even as the first of his fingers finally starts to push inside you, and you moan into his mouth, hot pleasure licking your skin. 

He moves his finger in and out slowly, making sure you’re well adjusted before he pushes in another one, hooking his fingers to find that delicious sweet spot he knows will have you crying his name in no time. You gasp loudly when he finds it, your hands twisting the sheets beneath you between your fingers, your entire body trembling. It feels so good you almost can’t breathe, and when he picks up his pace, hitting your spot over and over as he brings his thumb to your clit, you know you won’t last long at all.

“M-Minho, I’m- I’m gonna-” you try to warn him, but the words die in your throat, the pleasure too overwhelming to continue to try and form a sentence. He simply hums, continuing his motions until your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, sharp, shuddery gasps and moans tumbling from your lips as your orgasm takes you. “That’s it, just let go, just like that, I’ve got you,” he praises, pressing kisses to your hot skin, helping you ride out your high.

Before you can even fully recollect your breath and get your racing heart back under control, he’s pushing a third finger inside, the trembling in your body intensifying from the addition. “You need more to get ready for me,” he tells you, and in your fucked out state all you can do is nod, taking his word as gospel truth, “need to stretch you good to make sure my cock fits.” All you can do is lay there and take the onslaught of pleasure, unable to think of about anything other than how full and good his fingers make you feel. 

You don’t even register that he’s moved your down your body and tugged your panties to the side until his tongue is meeting your clit, swirling around it in expertly practiced circles, making you desperately cry out his name. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging harshly as your hips buck up to keep feeling the delicious sensation his tongue provides you. He flattens his tongue and lets you grind against it as you want, the motions of his fingers not stuttering or ceasing despite the movement of your hips. 

You feel the familiar heat pooling your stomach, another orgasm approaching quickly, the sounds you release turning into desperate whines and whimpers as you chase the feeling. It only takes a few more rolls of your hips and thrusts of his fingers to have you releasing all over his face, your juices gushing around his fingers. He sits up and pulls his fingers out when your body falls limp, chest heaving and ears ringing as you try to recover from the mind-blowing experience you just had. 

Your eyes are closed, and you can feel his weight shift, can hear the soft clink of his belt unbuckling, followed by the rustling of clothes. You open your eyes to see Minho’s cock is now out, his hand lazily pumping it and spreading the pre-cum that accumulated and dripped over his time focusing on you. You reach a hand out to touch it, to replace his hand with your own, but he grabs your hand before you can, instead making you intertwine your fingers. 

“Tonight’s all about you, Princess. Don’t worry about taking care of me,” he says, kissing the back of your hand and then holding it down right above your head; you’re not quite pinned, easily able to snake your hand out of his hold if you wanted to, but you have to admit, you like the feeling of his hand keeping yours held down. He rubs his cock between your folds before he lines himself up with your entrance, though you didn’t miss the subtle smirk on his face when you whined from the feeling of his tip rubbing against your clit.

“Squeeze my hand if you need to,” Minho tells you before taking your free hand and bringing it up to his shoulder, “and hold onto me.” Your heart squeezes in your chest; the hidden romantic in you yearns to tell him you love him, to thank him for taking such good care of you, to express how you never want this night to end, but you know that would be a mistake. Neither of you can afford to let your emotions spill out, so you swallow them down the best you can, deciding to just live in this moment, to experience it for all that it is and all that it means for you.

The initial push is slow, and thanks to his diligent preparation, there is little physical pain or discomfort you experience from the stretch of his cock. A slight sting, sure, but nothing you can’t easily handle, and it’s barely even recognizable when compared to the pleasant fullness you feel. So when you squeeze his hand, and your eyes well with tears, it’s not because you are pained; it’s because you finally have something you want, a happiness you thought would forever elude you.

He takes his free hand and wipes away the tears from your eyes, a soft look of concern on his face. “Hurts?” he asks, but you shake your head quickly. “Feels good, I just.. I..” you struggle with the words, knowing you can’t express how you actually feel even if you felt you could. “I know. You don’t have to say it, I know,” Minho speaks to you softly, and the kiss he gives you very nearly makes you sob.

There’s still a few inches left before he’s fully inside you, and he pushes the remainder in slowly as he continues to kiss you, his free hand now rubbing soothing circles on your hip with his thumb. Minho does well at maintaining composure, staying firmly in control of himself and his body despite the way your walls squeeze and suck him in, despite the way you whimper when you feel him throb, or cry out against his lips when his tip kisses your deepest spots.

“That’s a good girl, taking all I give you, doing so well,” he praises you some more, and you love when he tells you how good you’re doing if the way you clench around him is any indicator. “Fuck, Princess-” he groans when he finally starts to move, pulling out and pressing back in much more slowly than he normally would, but the wet friction you provide him is delicious. “Minho, I-” you start, interrupted by a sharp gasp when he finds your sweet spot with his cock.

He looks at you as he stills his hips, patiently waiting for you to continue in case what you have to say is important, or a request for him to stop. You swallow, face heating up but determined to get out what you want to say. “J-Just this once, I don’t want to be the princess. Call me by name, please-” Oh, that’s what you want? He can do that, easily; he’s already groaned your name countless times in the privacy of his room, stroking his cock to the thought of you.

The sound of your name falling from his lips as he resumes the thrust of his hips has you clenching hard, stars erupting in your vision as he picks up his pace, beginning to quickly and mercilessly hit your spot, over and over again. He takes one of your legs and props it up over his shoulder, allowing more of his cock to fill you up, the creaking of the bed and the sound of skin slapping beginning to overpower the noise from downstairs.

Taking his other hand away from yours, you’ll have to forgive him, he licks his fingers and then brings them to your clit, wanting nothing more than to see and feel you release on his cock. It only takes a few more thrusts and circles from his fingers to have you crying out his name as you cum, fingers digging into the sheets beneath you as your body shakes and legs tremble. But Minho hasn’t cum yet, so he’s not quite done with you, not that you mind in the slightest; you’ll let him chase his pleasure as long as he wishes, even if it leaves you a drooling, fucked out mess in the end.

He pulls out of you, just long enough to sit against the headboard, and then he’s pulling you on top of him, guiding you to sink back down on his cock and sit fully in his lap. The new position has you rolling your eyes to the back of your head, Minho guiding the movement of your hips with his hands as he thrusts up into you. He’s quite literally doing all the work, but that’s perfectly fine; this night is supposed to be about you, after all, and he doesn’t want you to lift a pretty little finger. Just let him use you a little until he cums, that’s all he needs.

You’re panting against his neck, head laid on his shoulder and nails digging into the skin of his back beneath his shoulder blades. The sting of your nails in his skin is just how he imagined it to be, and his head is falling back against the headboard, low grunts and groans of your name leaving freely as his cock throbs and twitches, getting closer and closer to his release. He uses one of his hands to grab your face and lift it up to his, crashing his lips to yours in a desperate, impassioned display of love and lust.

A few more snaps of his hips and you feel his cum spurting inside you in long, thick ropes, the sensation sending you forward into yet another orgasm of your own, your desperate sounds muffled only by Minho’s mouth on yours. Your body collapses against his when the moment slows to a stop, both of your chests heaving and breaths heavy as you lie against him, his arms wrapped around you snuggly and keeping you upright against his chest. 

You can hear the quick, erratic beating of his heart as he catches his breath, looking up at him to see his eyes closed and sweat trailing down his brow towards his cheek. He looks beautiful like this, you think; you hope he thought the same of you. Even as his cock starts to soften, neither of you move, and though your legs protest and beg to be stretched out, you refuse to leave your spot on Minho’s lap.

“Are you alright, Princess?” he asks once he’s collected himself, pushing your hair from your face and wiping the sweat from your brow. “Mhm, just want to stay like this,” you reply, and Minho smiles softly, rubbing over your shoulders and down your back in a sweet gesture of comfort. You’re silent like this for some time, just simply enjoying the feeling of him, the sound of the crackling fire, the warmth he and this room provides you.

“Does my happiness really have to end here?” you can’t help but quietly ask, and Minho is quiet for a moment, carefully considering before he speaks. In a different world, in a different time, in a different place, maybe the two of you are meant to be. There’s comfort in imagining yourself there, truly happy with Minho, letting him care for you while not snuffing out the flame that is your pride, ambition, and spirit.

It’s not meant to be, you both know that to be true. To be with each other required great risk, sacrifice, hardship. But again he has to wonder, is being safe worth the cost of happiness? Would you even truly be “alive” if your every moment was spent miserably? He doesn’t want to see the very core of what makes you you be snuffed out by selfish, idiotic men and their expectations of what you should be.

You’re much younger than him, and it would be impossible for him to be there for you for the rest of your life, but he can be for the rest of his, at least. “Maybe not,” he answers, unsure of what the future holds for the two of you, but not entirely ready to give up so easily. He could accept his fate, accept that love is something out of his reach, but it’s your happiness on the line that makes him want to fight for it. 

There’s a lot he could lose by helping you escape this life you feel trapped in, but he’d rather see you happy than wasting your days away in the castle, subservient to a man you loathe. Your love isn’t meant to be, but that’s okay; he’ll help you all the same. He’s loyal to you, and only you, he’s decided- so if you make your future husband, your father, the entire kingdom your enemy, then they’ll be his enemy too. And it’ll all be worth it just to see you smile for a little bit longer.

#skz x reader #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #skz smut #lee know smut #lee minho smut #skz imagines #skz scenarios #not me posting a fic again literally 4 days after my last one i am serious when i say i was possessed to write this #also not posting between the hours of 4-7am for once that is a win for me !! #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune

[msgexymunson]

Red handed was my introduction to this blog and I am here to stay! I liked the friends to lovers dynamic but can I please request an enemies to lovers scenario? reader begrudgingly ends up crushing on eddie and she is forced to admit it to him in the middle of some very steamy hate sex? sub reader, humiliation and degradation please and thank you

Fuck Me Like You Hate Me

Mean!Dom!Eddie x Sub!Fem!reader

Warnings: VERY NSFW, minors DNI or I'll bite your kneecaps off, slight bullying from Eddie (Eddie being a cocky git), f!fingering, slight spit play, small mention of biting, choking (more throat holding than anything), unprotected p in v rough sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), dacryphilia, this gets pretty rough but consent throughout, again I'm British and I try hard with the American stuff lol

A/N: this pushed me well out of my comfort zone but thank you for the ask, I like a challenge! Hope I ticked all your boxes, enjoy!

3k words

Masterlist

"Morning princess!"

"I've told you a thousand times, don't call me that."

"Stop being such a priss and I might stop."

"I'm not a priss, you don't know anything about me Edward."

"Bet I know more than you think princess."

"Stop calling me princess, Edward!"

"Stop calling me Edward, princess."

"Urgh!"

Slamming your locker shut you look over at your agitator. He smiles wide, winking at you.

Every fucking morning. Usually you were calm and sweet to everyone. Laid back, easy going, quiet, controlled. That all changed when you'd reached the same year as Eddie Munson.

He had barrelled into your life uninvited and unwelcome, but there he was all the same. Not only had you been forced to sit next to him in History and English class due to the assigned seating, his locker was right next to yours when they switched them at the beginning of the year. The universe seemed to be pushing you together.

He was loud, and brash, and seemed to revel in the negative attention he received. Everything he did was dramatic and over the top. Not only was he the absolute polar opposite of you, but you were sure Eddie had made some sort of vow to annoy you as much as possible. The digs at your outfits, the chewing gum with his mouth open, the winks when he knew you were already annoyed. It was like he was fine tuning how to piss you off on a daily basis.

Today appeared to be no exception. After home room you slipped quietly into your English class, Eddie being late as usual. You expected to hear him before you saw him, wallet chain clinking, heavy stomping steps, making some stupid remark. So when you felt hot breath on your ear and a whisper of "miss me princess?" Well, you jumped out of your skin, looking round seeing Eddie chuckling, squeezing behind you to take his seat.

"Screw you Edward."

"You wish" came the immediate response. You were almost expecting it, it's the type of thing he would say, but for some bizarre reason you felt the blood rush to your cheeks.

Temporarily rendered speechless, you opted for scowling at him instead and concentrating on your textbook.

It was nearing the end of the lesson. Soon, if you were lucky, you wouldn't see Eddie until tomorrow.

Mrs O'Donnell's voice rang out. "Class, now were are nearing the end of Hamlet, you will be completing an oral assignment. In your pairs, you will be arguing for and against Hamlet's sanity. I'll give you further details after we complete the reading tomorrow."

The bell rings, and you get out of your seat, slinging your bag on your shoulder. Eddie stands up and pushes past you before you can move. Pushed off balance, you fall into the table, ass against him.

"Now, princess, stop trying to seduce me, this is a place of learning!" He says to the whole room. A couple of lingering students snigger. Your face glows with embarrassment and anger. You clamber up and turn around to face him. Bad idea. Now, your chest is pressed against his, his breath fanning over you, smelling of cigarettes and gum.

"What is your problem Edward?" You huff in his face.

"You're the one with the problem sweetheart" he smirks at you, "you clearly need to get laid."

You stare at him in shock, mouth agape. He smiles smugly at you and walks off, leaving you gaping at nothing.

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

Eddie's words played on your mind all day.

The nerve of him.

No matter how hard you tried you couldn't get his words out of your head. Now, you weren't a virgin, but you'd yet to be satisfied by a boy. You'd had orgasms before, but always by your own hand, and rushed, quiet things, lest your parents heard. As much as it pissed you off to agree with your sworn enemy, he might have a point.

To your mind, it was the only possible explanation to your sudden carnal thoughts towards Eddie. You hated him, you had all year, so why do you keep thinking of him bending you over? Or thinking of him with his head between your legs, being fucked on his tongue? Obscene ideas kept running through your mind, so much so you could barely concentrate.

Late that night, you couldn't sleep. Tossing and turning, you threw a strop, huffing into the darkness.

Gingerly, you found your clit, rubbing circles, aiming to alleviate the ache between your thighs. Slipping your fingers into your slit, you picked up your pace. Trying to conjure fantastical thoughts into your head. No matter what you thought, the image that made you cum was thinking about Eddie pushing his hard cock between your folds. You thought about him fucking you hard and raw, and you came with a silent cry, wetness seeping out onto your mattress. He had taken up residency inside your head and there was  nothing you could do about it.

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

Gathering your textbooks from your locker the next morning, you slam it shut and try to hurry to your first class. No such luck. You run into a solid wall. Then, looking up, you realise it's Eddie.

"You've got to stop throwing yourself at me princess." He grins, stroking your arm through your blouse. You wrench it away, face flushed and hot.

'Shut up Edward!" Several students turn at your outburst. You're angry, not just at him but at yourself. He shouldn't be affecting you this much, and last nights thoughts swimming around in your brain are not improving matters.

"Chill the fuck out, I'm kidding," he says, a bit of bite to his voice. Fishing a cigarette from behind his ear, he gestures to you. "you wanna smoke? You seem tense sweetheart."

"Why don't you shove it up your ass and fuck off whilst you're doing it." Your face is inches from his. Rage boils through you, and something else that you can't place.

"Ooh the princess swore, I'm really getting to you aren't I?" That damn handsome smirk again, that damn wink!

"Just stay out of my way." You turn to storm off.

"You're a real bitch, you know that?" Eddie yells to your back. You keep walking.

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

"So, as we discussed yesterday, your oral assignment is a debate between you and your partner regarding Hamlet's sanity. I'll leave it to you to discuss who takes pros and who takes cons. You will have two weeks to prepare. Remember, this will be 10% of your overall grade, so I suggest you take this seriously. You are already in your pairs."

You are already in your pairs? You've got to be fucking kidding.

Your hand spears the air, face determined.

"You said we're in our pairs. Can't we choose our partners instead?"

"No, that will be far too disruptive. No discussion."

You roll your eyes and glance at your partner.

Eddie's wry smile teases you from the corner of his mouth.

"Trying to get rid of me princess? You offend me."

You clench your teeth in response.

At the end of the lesson, Eddie moves to stand. You grab him by the arm before he can leave.

"Steady on love."

"Listen Edward, we need to decide when we are meeting to study. You're not slacking off and letting me do all the work." You glare at him.

"As if I'd let that happen. So, Friday night good for you? I doubt you have any plans."

Rolling your eyes at him, you say "fine. My house. After school. My parents will be out anyway."

"Oh, you tryin' to get me alone princess?"

You blush, shoving at his chest. "No, I'd rather you didn't meet my parents is all."

"Okay, it's a date." He walks off, leaving you to shout at his back.

"It's not a date, we are studying!"

"Wouldn't want it to be princess." He waves his hand at you whilst he leaves, not bothering to turn in response.

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

Friday night rolls around and you are a bag of nerves. The thought of Eddie invading your private space makes you feel sick, but the thought of being at his makes it even worse. At least at your house you have some semblance of control.

The doorbell rings and simultaneously there's a knock at the door.

Even his knock is annoying, pick one for Christs sake.

You open the door, giving him a tight lipped "Hi."

"Don't you even get changed when you get home? Jesus."

You scowl at him but bite your lip. You're going to get through this evening no matter what.

Moving to the kitchen, you go to grab some sodas from the refrigerator.

"You want a drink?"

"Oh, I see we're playing nice. Sure." You roll your eyes grabbing him a can.

"This way Edward." And you walk up the stairs to your room.

What's wrong with my outfit anyway? It's just a blouse and a skirt. Nope. Stop it. Don't let him get under your skin.

Getting to your room, you perch by the pillows on your bed, and gesture at Eddie to sit at the chair by your desk. He completely ignores you, deciding he would rather look at your stuff; picking up ornaments, rifling through tapes, and laughing at your stuffed toys.

You huff at him, he ignores it, opting instead to open your jewellery box, laughing out loud when the little ballerina pops up and the tinny music starts playing.

"I'd appreciate a bit of focus Edward." You say through gritted teeth.

Eddie flops down on the edge of your bed, ignoring the chair.

"You really need to lighten up, you know that? It's not good for you." He grins.

"You don't know what's good for me. You don't know anything about me!" The flush rising to your cheeks yet again.

He laughs loudly at that. "Oh sweetheart of course I do. You're a fuckin' walking cliché. Little Miss Priss, with your blouses and your ballerina jewellery box and your Cindy Lauper tapes. Doing everything perfect, perfect grades. No plans on a Friday night. Probably a virgin. You're barely holding it all together, and I think it's really fuckin' funny that you don't see it."

You're face glows magenta; utterly dumb struck at his words, mouth gaping open. You shut it and manage to struggle out 'I-I'm not, not a virgin." Your voice is small.

Eddie snorts at that. "Oh yeah, was it everything you'd dreamed it would be?"

You didn't say anything. You didn't have to. Eddie laughed.

"I thought so. You know what you need? You need someone to put you in your place."

Your reaction was instinctive and immediate. There was nothing you could do, you had already squeezed your thighs together and made some pathetic whimpering noise before you could engage your brain.

Eddie laughs again, scooting over to you on the bed.

"See? I can read you like a book. So why don't you just admit, the reason why you're such a bitch to me is because you want me?" He smirks at you.

"Shut the fuck up Eddie." Leaning forward, you kiss him, pressing your lips firmly onto his. He pushes back, so hard its nearly painful. When his hand reaches up and holds your throat, you moan loudly. His tongue flicks into you as he pushes you into the bed. You palm his dick over his jeans, desperate movements taking over you.

Scrambling with your legs, you move them so you're laying down. Eddie moves to lay on top of you, caging you in with his arms.

"See? This is where you're supposed to be. Beneath me." He smiles but there's no mirth in it.

You try to bite back, sneering at him "Edward-"

He puts his hand back to your throat. Not squeezing as such, but the threat is there.

"I don't fucking think so princess."

"Sorry Eddie." You gaze up at him, eyes wide.

"See? You can be real sweet when you want to be. Stop being a brat." You nod.

Suddenly, his eyes soften just a fraction, and his voice is a whisper, "you do want this, don't you?" You nod emphatically.

"You tell me if anything's too much yeah?" That takes you back more than all of this, more than the kiss, more than the hand at your throat. You manage to mumble out "yes Eddie."

He winks at you, and his face hardens again. The change is instantaneous and almost frightening.

"Take off your shirt." You do as he commands, cotton bra on show.

Kneeling between your legs, he pulls your skirt up to your waist, exposing your underwear.

Eddie chuckles darkly, running his thumb down your slit, pushing hard at your clothed cunt. Gasping, your eyes widen, shocked at how forward he is being. And at how much you like it.

"Look at this, I've not touched you yet and your soaked through. It's pathetic." Hooking his fingers into the sides, he pulls your underwear down roughly to your ankles. You kick them free, legs settling either side of him.

You feel self conscious, your pussy on display for him, wanting to hide your face in your hands.

"Hey, look at me." Voice iron clad. You look at him, scowling slightly, still embarrassed.

"You want me to fuck the brat out of you?" Head tilted to one side, eyebrows raised.

You squirm, taken aback by his audacity. The fact that your cunt was positively dripping solely on his words and his tone alone was throwing you. Any power you had, had been relinquished willingly, easily-

"Are you gonna answer me or what princess?"

Eddie's hands gripped the insides of your thighs, making you squeal.

"I-ah yes Eddie."

"Yes what?" That fucking smug face, that smirk. "Say it."

"I want you to," you huff, and quieter, say "fuck the brat out of me."

Eddie grins, but it doesn't reach his eyes. He looks like a predator stalking some poor defensiveness prey. You.

Without warning, Eddie jams his thumb deep into your exposed hole. You don't know what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't that.

Your back arched off the bed, mouth forming a perfect O. The pace he set was relentless, thumb wiggling into you, pushing into your heat with the full force of his arm. Squelching echoed through the room. Moaning shamelessly, you felt blinding heat forging in your core, muscles spasming.

"Shit, you gonna cum already? Pitiful really. No ones ever made you cum, have they?"

You cry out in response, "no Eddie!"

In a matter of seconds you explode, the pleasure expanding through your chest and radiating through your limbs. You scream a broken echo of his name, shaking. Eddie doesn't stop fucking you with his thumb. When it becomes too much you put your hand out to stop him, but he doesn't budge.

"Eddie, please, s'too much!"

"You've got another one, I know it. Do you really want me to stop?"

You stare, hand still on his arm, making no move. No, you didn't want him to stop.

Smirking, leaning over you, he spits forcibly on your clit. It's disgusting, but it makes you clench hard around his thumb.

He brings his other hand to your saliva covered bud and starts rubbing relentlessly back and forth. The feeling is so intense, fire in every nerve, animated boiling heat. This time, no sounds escape you. Your orgasm crests with a silent cry, tears streaming down your cheeks. You are drenched, you can feel it covering the bedclothes underneath you.

Eddie finally removes his thumb from you, holding his hand out for you to see. It's covered in your slick.

"Bet you haven't done that before. You squirted all over me. Filthy." You blush in response, trying to catch your breath.

Eddie unzips his jeans and pushes them under his butt, fisting his length. He leans over your panting frame, eyes glittering like midnight. He sucks a hickey to the top of your breast, shining in the light, purple and spit.

"I'm guessing you don't have a condom princess?"

"No, no, I'm- on the pill, please-"

"Fuck, you want me to fuck you raw?"

"Yes, please, Eddie I-I've wanted you to, please, please!" 

Eddie laughs at you and pulls you bodily towards him, pulling your breath from you. It amazed you how strong he was. Before another thought could enter your mind he was pushing his full length into you, bottoming out. The stretch was intense. Without giving you any time to adjust he started ploughing into you, one hand pulling you into him by your raised thigh, the other reaching for your hand. You thought for a moment that it was a sweet gesture, stark contrast from how he was treating you, until he grabbed both hands, and pinned them over your head.

Dick ploughing into you almost ferally; hot breath in your ear, "gonna admit it? How much you've wanted this?"

"Eddie, I, fuck, I've wanted this. Still don't, urgh shit, still don't fucking like you."

Eddie laughs out loud.

"Still got some brat to fuck out of you I see." He bites down hard on your shoulder, making you squeal.

He moves your legs, hiking them up and over his shoulders, and drives into you.

"Oh my fucking God Eddie!" He's so deep, hitting your g spot with every animalistic thrust. Your climax creeps up with no warning, suddenly you're full on weeping; a fucked out, blubbering mess.

"Shit princess you crying? Fucking pathetic. That's it, keep fucking crying, gonna make me cum, fuck."

Eddie grabs you by the thighs and humps into you with everything he has. Cursing and groaning he releases into you, back arching, face screwed up. As much as he pisses you off, he does look unbelievably hot like this.

Releasing your legs, he flops down on the bed next to you, trying to catch his breath.

"So," he manages between deep breaths, "you gonna be a bit nicer to me?" He turns his head to look at your face.

You look straight back. "Doubtful." You say, a smile playing on your lips. 

#pretty sure im going to hell #thanks anon! #thanks for the ask! #eddie munson smut #eddie fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #stranger things fan fic #ms gexy writes

[highwayorgantrade]

Art History

Pairing: (cis)fem!reader x Carlisle Cullen

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Cursing, the most mild nsfw (basically intense kissing and references to sex), minor choking, general tomfoolery.

Summary: A certain doctor helps you find resources for your college art history class.

Spotify Playlist: Art History

A/N: Aaah okay my first fic on this blog!! I'm so excited to get back into writing, especially with my favorite characters and people. Also, I'm sorry, I love Esmé as much as everyone else does, she does not exist here and Carlisle is the Ultimate Single Father™. And God, I did not expect it to be this long!!

The way that you met the Cullens was, at best, not ideal. A broken down car here, the offer of a ride there. It wasn't a bad thing - the friendship you had with the family had lasted all through high school up to a local community college.

When they told you the truth about who they were, what they were, you thought it was a joke.

"Yeah, very funny. Halloween isn't for another two months, and you can't all go as vampires, that would be so stupid." You snorted, returning to the homework that was scattered on the dining room table.

"(Y/N)... Think about it." Alice placed her hand on your shoulder, forcing you to listen.How are you just now noticing her hands are so cold? "Have you ever seen any of us eat? Go into the sun?"

You didn't want to think about it, you knew they would never lie to you like this. It's too insane to be a lie. But didn't they lie and pretend like they were human? It was just all too confusing, so naturally, it took you a few days before you starting going around their house again. They answered all your questions, even when you decided to punish them all a bit for not telling you sooner.

"So, have you ever thought about the ecological damage you might be doing with all the hunting?" You had been interrogating them for hours, but honestly? They were grateful. Grateful that you didn't run off and tell the entire town, or worse, flee from Forks and lose you forever.

"Honestly, we all have different preferences." Emmett replied cooly, as if you were chatting about movies. "I prefer some of the bigger stuff: Bears, wildcats. It's mostly deer, though."

"Never people." Carlisle confirms with a smile, and you almost immediately regret giving him a chance to speak. Before their confession, the pounding of your heart was a fun secret, a dream you knew would never come true. The scenarios have run through your head all the time, anytime you looked at him. And those rare moments where you felt brave enough to make eye contact? But now, you knew that it was basically a public confession. You never talked about it. The Cullens never did, either.

"I know one of you has to know something about the Reliquary of Sainte Foy." You sighed, dropping your bag at your feet.

"Please, (y/n), come in." Edward quipped from the living room.

"I mean, this whole thing makes no sense!" You continued, thinking back to every single time you've used Edward to complain. "First, she starts off the semester with the Renaissance, then goes to modern minimalism, then back to freakin' Jesus times?"

"You know," Alice strode in, reading over the same paper, "When I have questions about art history, I usually ask Carlisle." She leaned against the counter. "He's the oldest of us." The look her and Edward shared were lost to you, as you already began to think of excuses as to why you shouldn't be alone in a room with him. The fear of looking and sounding stupid overcame the desire to just do anything with him. The desire to mess up that stupidly perfect hair of his, or his cold hands roughly wrapping around your-.

No. Absolutely not.

"Ah, no! I wouldn't want to bother him. He's probably super busy, with all of his... doctoring stuff-"

"Nonsense." Edward smiled. "He would be overjoyed to help."

"Edward, seriously, don't-" You pleaded, but it was too late. Carlisle's name echoed throughout the house, but it felt like a death bell.

"I hope you find your answers!" Alice quickly took her exit out the front door, with Edward following right behind her, with a polite "Excuse me."

"(Y/N)!" He greeted you fondly, noticing Edward and Alice's backs as they walked deeper into the forest that surrounded the house. "Didn't Edward call for me?" He was watching them, but you were watching how he saw you and immediately smiled, and the way his arms flexed on the table.

Stop.

"Yeah, he did. They insisted that you could help me with art history, but this is old, old crap, and like, yeah, you're old, but you're not that old, so it's not really..." He began to smile again. "Super important." You finished, suddenly very aware of how you were standing. And how your hand rested so close to his. And how hot your face suddenly got.

"Well, what is it you need my help with?" He took your assignment paper. "The Reliquary of Sainte Foy. Around what time was that?" He looked back at you.

"Uh, the- Jesus times. Like upper double digits for the year. Which, I mean, I don't know when you were born, but I don't think you're that old, I mean you're still fun and pretty cool." God, why couldn't you just stop talking!

"Come on." He turned his back, taking your picking up your bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "I think I have something in my office."

His office? He's taking you to his office? You've been inside of it before, but it wasn't just him and you, it was him and his kids. Just keep reminding yourself: You are his children's friend. You're friends with every single one of this man's children. You're probably not even on his radar! A (publicly) mid-30 year old local surgeon, and men that looked like him in this part of Washington was rare. And to be going after a college student? Pull it together.

The steely resolve quickly crumbled as he held the door open for you to walk past him, and if you had any doubts he could hear your heart before, they were absolutely gone. You could hear your pounding heart in your head. The office was gorgeous, a few lamps and some candles gave the dark office a warm glow, and you could see he had been actively working on... something?

"I'm so sorry, did I interrupt something?" You glanced at the papers on his desk.

"Oh, no, I was just going over some old files. You could never interrupt me."

Oh.

"Now." He began scanning a section of his large bookshelves. "I unfortunately was not born in 'Jesus times,' but I was born in 1640, and my father was an Anglican priest, so I might have something about early Christian relics." He finally pulled a large dark blue book from the shelf and handed it to you. "What about The Book of Sainte Foy? Written in 1010 A.D. and translated in 1995."

"Yes, please, that would be amazing." You replied quickly, eager to spend as little time in this room as possible.

"(Y/N), you seem stressed. If college is getting to be too much, you could always take a break." His eyebrows knit together and set the book on his desk. Your eyes followed his hand and you swallowed. This cannot be happening.

"Uh, no, it's not college! College is fine. It's just... other stuff." Your hands clasped together to try and ease some of your nerves.

"Well, (Y/N), if it's something more personal, you know you can always talk to me. I've enjoyed having you around and I hate to see you upset." You knew he was trying to ease information out of you, but his words just made it harder.

"Carlisle, I-" Oh god. No. Stop talking. His hand came to rest on your upper arm, his icy hand almost burning your hot skin. You've imagined this so many times "It's you!"

Wait. No! Keep talking! The look of slight shock and confusion on his face combined with the gentle grip he had on your arm had wiped your brain of whatever you were going to say. His hand relaxed and fell back to his side.

"Me? (Y/N), did I make you uncomfortable?" His voice was soft, but serious. Fix this, now!

"No! Well, sort of. But no! Just... listen." You rubbed the back of your neck, shifting your weight between your legs. He leaned back against his desk and looked at you.

This was going to be hard.

"It's just... You make me nervous because you know, you're like a genetically modified beauty of a human being. I mean, have you seen yourself? Actually seen yourself?"

Carlisle opened his mouth to respond but he couldn't get the words out before you continued.

"You are... gorgeous. And I know, Edward's complained to me about that whole 'Oh, our beauty just lures in innocent prey so we can destroy them,' thing, but you're just a... a genuinely beautiful person. You help people in need, you go to some extreme lengths to help people because why? Because you're a doctor and it's what you do, damn it! It's amazing. You're amazing." You took a breath, filling your lungs with all the words you've kept to yourself. "And I like your hands."

And you like his hands? That's what your confession is ending on? Okay, own it.

"You like my hands?" He questioned, biting back a smile. Of course that's what he focused on. "Tell me about my hands." He stood up off his desk and moved closer to you. You felt like the breath was being sucked out of your lungs as you tried to organize your thoughts.

"Well, they're..." His hand came up to your face, thumb grazing your cheekbone.

"Go on."

"I like the way they're..." In an effort to look anywhere else but his eyes, you glanced down to his chest. His face seemed to inch closer to yours as you searched for words you knew you wouldn't find. The hand on your face traveled to the back of your neck, and his other hand found the small of your back. Your hands rested on his biceps, your last attempt to try to cover up your attraction towards him.

"Tell me you want this." Carlisle whispered, pressing you closer to him, encouraged by your racing heart.

"I want this so bad." You admitted, and those were the words that broke the both of you. He pressed you against a bookshelf as his lips met yours, and the amount of passion coming from Carlisle was shocking. His thumb came around your neck to wrap around the front, and the simple weight of his hand caused you to moan in his mouth. He smiled into the kiss and your hands went to his hair, tugging as gently as you could.

"Jump." He whispered in between kisses. The faint taste of spearmint lingered, and you whined at the loss.

"What?" You pulled back and stared at him.

"Jump."

God, please let his vampire strength come in clutch. You wrapped your legs around his waist and his hands found the bottom of your thighs. He placed you on top of his desk, careful as to not disturb any documents or books, and pulled you in again. this time, there was something different. The kiss was more insistent, more demanding.

"More." He groaned, and slotted his head into the curve of your neck, biting gently, and kissing the same spots.

You had never seen Carlisle like this, never this... out of control.

"So, when is this paper due?" He asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. He walked back to the door of his office, laying his hand on the doorknob. You simply stared at him, still catching your breath. Did he seriously just ask that? Now? "Is it tonight?"

"No?"

"Good." He grinned at you, and turned the lock. "Because it's not getting done."

#twilight x reader #twilight imagine #carlisle cullen x reader #carlisle cullen #carlisle cullen imagine

[2kmps]

howl enjoys letting you braid his hair.

notes; 574 words, 15+, not proofread.

the light spring breeze carried a crisp sting to it, one that made howl shrink into the warmth of his arms. he sat straddling the back of a chair, arms folded across it, chin nestled deep in silky white sleeves that felt like bliss on his skin. it wasn't all that bad of an afternoon where calcifer landed the castle, intending for a leisurely reprieve before moving it along towards the damp mountains.

he wasn't opposed to this break, an ephemeral moment of contentment that he wished could last; something very unlike him to want. it must've been your fingertips at his scalp, joints occasionally catching snags that you gently worked out with a comb before your fingers were hard at work again.

"it was just ridiculous." you were saying, luring him back to the moment just as the wood comb clattered on a nearby table. "she wouldn't give me a deal on the flowers, but they're only in season for another week. what a cheapskate."

"miss may is every bit a troubling crone as sophie." he was trying to prove he was listening, although he had forgotten much of what you had said. the mundane complaints spoken in your duclet tones, coupled with your fingers on his hair, was enough to make his eyes roll up as he let you manipulate his neck and head as much as you wanted.

you clicked your tongue, giving his hair a gentle tug from behind, stirring him more than he was willing to admit in that moment. "oh! naughty thing. in broad daylight this time?"

"shut up," you grumbled, parting his long raven locks three-ways to begin your braid. "speak nicely about your elders or I may slip up one day and tell sophie how badly you talk about her. she'll chase you down with her broom."

howl's chest jumped with a huff. "don't expect a home if you do so! you're not asked to pay a thing for room and board, yet you're just mean."

"not meaner than sophie on a rainy day." howl wouldn't deny that being true, staying quiet as you continued, "old miss may looks like the type to know how to curse people. she's just that bitter and stingy. she has to be a witch."

you were near the tail end of his braid, pinching the tip that curled in nicely like the horsehair of paintbrush. the style was completed with a clear elastic that you knew he'd lament and fuss over later.

"what does that make you?" he asked, bending his back and neck away from the chair, still holding it with his arms as he looked up at you. "you're meaner than both combined. absolutely awful and cruel to me."

"someone with the patience to put up with you."

howl let out a scoff, eyes flicking up towards the ceiling as he got to his feet, pulling you by the wrist until you were flush into him. his head dipped, lips moving against yours then; warm, soft, and full, guiding the sweet dance until the tip of his tongue smoothed along the inside of your bottom lip.

you pulled away, letting your arms wrap his neck so your fingers could toy with the braid you made. "honestly, you have no shame."

he felt the pull and leaned into another kiss, this one surged with fervor, hands now traveling inward from your hips.

"you're the one to blame for that."

divider; @/saradika

this is a repost from my old blog: cardeneiv

#howls moving castle #howl pendragon #hmc #hmc book #hmc howl #howl hmc #hmc imagines #howlscastle #howl's moving castle #howl x you #howl x reader #howl x y/n #howl pendragon x you #howl pendragon x reader #howl pendragon x y/n #2k writes

[riotlain]

TWD crushing on (an Oblivious) Reader

YOOO WE KINDA DUMB

upset there isnt alot of twd x male reader fics that arent smut but anyways

my very select few men💀💀 i might do a part 2 i just wanted to post

THIS IS A NWLNW BLOG!! WOMEN DNI

Daryl Dixon

Our man Mr. Daryl Hiding His Emotions Dixon 🫶🫶

Its fine you didn't notice at first

He seems like he kinda hates you from how quiet he is. Quite the opposite

Being quite in love with someone who isnt a woman is kinda just like. Not processed in his mind??

He didn't know how to feel at first

But eventually he confessed to Carol about how he feels (she suspected something but anyways)

To be honest he had a plan to ask you out

But was extremely extremely hesitant

"They prolly don' even like guys" He'd say

I think both of yall are oblivious

It was a group effort to get yall together

Like all these long ass runs, leaving gifts saying it was from the other

You probably had to be the one to confess ngl

Glenn Rhee

Glenn aint too obvious. Thats what he tells himself atleast

Hes very obviously crushing on you. The only one who cant see it is you

He'd pull harmless pranks, compliment you, help you around, usually adding on a lil wink for lil extra

Yet you still didn't get it. You just thought he was being a goody good friend

Especially since its a bit hard to find any queer folk that like you around here IN FUCKING VIRGINIA/GEORGIA

"You look nice today, Y/n." *Shitty Glenn wink* "Oh thanks man!"

Your obviousness is apart of what Glenn absolutely loved about you though

It gives him time to really think out his lil confession

Which took a while but he had it down! Flowers!!

Who doesnt like flowers??

Well Glenn originally planned to give you flowers. That was until Eugene let it slip that he likes you one time💀💀

You ended up interrupting Glenn like mid confession just because you knew

Simon

Negan teases him for his obviousness

Simon would yell it to the top of his lungs if he must (he probably has to)

Always gives you any ice cream or first shot of a drink

He also always has his arm around you or is LITERALLY FLIRTING WITH YOU

You couldnt tell tho. he looked gay and homophobic to be honest.

So you just didnt say anything

Simon, running out of ideas, asked Negan for any ideas

Since its, Negan what do you expect? Something cute and romantic?? No

SHOW OFF YOUR SEXUAL PROWESS OF COURSE‼️

So with this in mind Simon approached your room with some drinks and did what he does best!

Sexual jokes about his dick and such seeing if you'd take the bait

You didn't you just got a bit flustered and laughed along

Until yknow he actually just went with the impulse and kissed you

FINALLY YOU GET THAT HES LIKE IN LOVE WITH YOU

Owen (Wolf)

The king of being either really obvious or the complete opposite

Depending on your guy's situation then heres the various ways itll go down

Owens a prisoner in Alexandria? He'll tell you nearly everything about him. Along with the fact if he gets out of there hes taking you with him!

How romantic!!

If youre apart of the Wolves then you have for sure caught his eye!

He'd do anything for you and I mean anything! Well as long as he's yknow still in control of the situation.

You cant ignore him either. He'll make as much noise as possible for you to go back to talking to him.

Owen will try to stalk you to see what you like

Or try to get that info out of you through a weird interrogation

You dont notice though. If anything youre a bit weirded out that this kinda crazy cult guy is like asking you your favorite color but anyways

Eventually in the middle of one of these investigations hes just gonna kiss you (probably quite roughly too)

"I like you. So youre mine now." "I- Ok sure??"

#simon twd x reader #twd x male reader #twd x reader #daryl dixon x male reader #daryl dixon x reader #wolf twd #owen twd #glenn rhee x male reader #glenn rhee x reader #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead x male reader

[skzoologist]

HI HI HIIII! IS YOUR REQUEST STILL OPEN? (checked your profile but I had to ask again because what if u forgot to close it? 😭) ANYWWWWAY

Can I ask the reaction (crack or fluff just skz being proud of our bby bae) of skz to Bae dancing EXO's 'The Eve' or 'Artificial Love'?

TENCHUUU (づ￣ ³￣)づ

word count: ~1.2k

warnings: sensual dance (for the shy ones like me)

genre: crack

a/n: Hey-ho anon, don't you worry! I basically live on this hellsite, I'm here everyday, updating my blog. Now, onto your request. The way I just watched the videos so I knew what to write about like this: 😳🫣. What can I say, I get flustered easily too. Also I wasn't sure in what format you wanted the reactions, in a little drabble like this, or written down per member, so I'm sorry if this is not what you wanted (i'm still not versed in the ways of running a blog). I hope you'll enjoy this! (Also yes, I know the gif isn't matching, I just couldn't find one from this dance)

Please let me know if I left a warning or anything out, I will add it in! Reblogs, likes and feedback are greatly appreciated!

!I don't condone anyone stealing my work and posting it anywhere without my permission, or feeding it to AI!

!This is just fiction, my interpretation of Stray Kids. By no means is this how they are and how they behave in real life!

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

The band was on their 3rd Fanmeeting, the crowds overly ecstatic wherever they went. There was a certain buzz in the air, amplifying the cheering and shouting even more than usual.

And the boys were absolutely thriving on it, adrenaline coursing through their veins in dangerous amounts, pushing them to perform on those bright stages for endless hours with no problem.

Bae was no different, his stage persona flawless, the perfect and cold mask on his face never even wavering. Fans shouted his name with all their might amidst their performances to different songs, trying to grab his attention, even if it was only for a split second. It never worked, the male too focused on doing well and dancing with all his might, executing the moves with scary precision. The fans were used to it by now, never expecting the idol to actually smile at them with a finger heart or even a wink sent their way, those actions suiting the other members much more. The tall otter was way too shy to do that, especially amidst dancing. 

After the band performed the well-known and fan favourite dances that belonged to a few of their selected songs in Seoul, it was time for a little break and fanservice. Small chairs were brought up onto the stage, easily lifted and moved thanks to their light build. Everyone took their respective seats, Bae having his between Chan and Changbin. Not like it mattered anyway, the boys always kept switching up their seats and who they sat next to amidst the chaos.

And chaos, it was.

Bae knew what was going to happen, of course he did, having helped the others practise with the choreography, but it still didn’t take away the shock factor of seeing it live, right in front of him up on the stage.

It started with ‘Queencard’ by (G)I-DLE, the two males next to him standing up and walking to the centre of their little half-circle they had decided to sit in. Bae couldn’t help the smile that broke out on his face, seeing his bandmates perform so wonderfully, all those practices having paid off. But he also couldn’t help the way his eyes widened at certain moves, the skin on his ears undoubtedly already turning red. It only became worse once the song ended, Chan and Changbin going to sit back down and noticing his slightly flustered state.

He tried his best to ignore those giggles around him.

Focusing back in front of him, Bae suddenly wished he didn’t. The sight of Felix and Hyunjin dancing to ‘The Eve’ by EXO caught him off-guard, still not having fully recovered from the previous dance. Their moves were flawless, of course they were, being proud members of Danceracha, and the watching idol was extremely proud of them. He remembered which parts were tricky for who, both proudly skipping over to him when they had finally pulled them off.

But the moves were also sensual, way too much for the shy little otter. Yet, he couldn’t take his eyes off of them, gaze stuck in place and meeting with Hyunjin’s. The younger winked at him just as he performed the last hip roll, not knowing how much damage he had done to Bae’s brain.

By the end of the song Bae’s skin became several shades darker, the red extremely evident and vibrant on it. This naturally meant that everyone could see it easily, teasing him endlessly and with no mercy. It was a miracle in itself that he hadn’t exploded at all.

“Come on Bae hyung, why not dance it as well?” - Felix slyly added, wiggling his eyebrows. “N-no, I couldn’t–” - Bae tried to defend himself, only to have Hyunjin cut him off. “You’d basically learnt it with us, with how much you helped us. Come on Hyung, please?”

And who was he to say no to those eyes?

With a silent sigh, Bae closed his eyes and tried to cool himself down. Those boggled thoughts slowly detangled from each other, leaving his mind tidy and focused. The memories of each practice flashed before his closed eyelids, all in perfect order and great detail.

When he opened his eyes again he had already been standing in Felix and Hyunjin’s place, the attention of the crowd and his members all on him. A quiet breath left his lips, a hand carding through his hair as the song started up again, signalling that it was time.

Bae’s body moved in perfect rhythm, as if it was a well-oiled machine. Not a single step or flick of a hand was out of place, his mind on autopilot with only the thought of dancing floating in its entirety. He felt the tight leather pants constrict with each movement, the slit on the back of his shirt opening and flashing a bit of skin when he turned around.

As the song ended so did his focus, eyes blinking and seeing the cheering crowd as he was putting his hand down from his ending pose. Although somehow the ones next to him were much louder, something that should have been impossible to achieve.

“I TOLD YOU YOU COULD DO IT!” - Felix shouted, a smile on his lips so wide, Bae was afraid it would split his face in two. “Wah, I never knew our baby otter could dance like that!” - Chan said, all giggles and chuckles as he affectionately squeezed Bae’s shoulder. “I think you just killed a few people here, Dal hyung.” - Jeongin added in, Seungmin wholeheartedly agreeing.

At the head tilt of the flustered member, the puppy pointed at the remaining four members who laid on the floor, seemingly dead. Jisung kept glancing up occasionally, successfully catching Bae’s gaze.

“Yah, warn us before moving like that! Those hips are deadly, man.” - he accused, even pointing a finger at the poor man.

“I don’t think I can recover from this.” - agreed Hyunjin, dramatically draping an arm over his forehead.

“Guys, I think Binnie and Lino hyung actually died. They haven’t moved since then.” - Felix added in, sweatdropping at the situation.

The boy was right, as the two didn’t react even when Chan and Seungmin had shaken them. Only when Bae was nearby did they seemingly resurrect, latching onto his legs and gazing up at the blushing male with stars and adoration in their eyes.

“Marry me, jagi.” - the two said almost perfectly at the same time, even the petname they used matched.

Minho and Changbin glared at each other, all the while Bae became an absolute flustered mess, skin flushed all the way down to his neck and chest. The others enjoyed the show, maybe a bit too much, relishing in the fact that Bae had finally let up on stage for a bit. Most of them didn’t hesitate to join in and shower the tall idol with praises, only worsening his condition as he just stood there, hands covering his face so at least STAY wouldn’t see him.

He couldn’t let that happen, not in a million years. Let him have the remains of his dignity, if not anything else.

#somehow it always comes back to Hyunjin being the one flustering Bae into oblivion #stray kids #skz #stray kids oc #skz oc #stray kids 9th member #skz 9th member #glacial prince #bang chan #lee know #lee minho #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #request #stray kids fanfiction #skz fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids crack #skz crack

[zilabee]

Zilabee i love your blog very much, every time you post I get incredibly excited you're so knowledgable about those four randy scouse gits, but I'm trying to get into the book side of the Beatles and I know there are many posts out there to help with that, but I want to know personally, what do you think are the best Beatles books? Not by popularity or the best author, what are your favourite Beatles books you would recommend to people to read? I know you're a Paul girl (which aren't we all at heart? cause even if he isn't your fave he's your faves fave, so by association we're all Paul girls), but please don't worry about favouritism again this is an ask of your fave Beatles books

anon! thank you for nice words; apologies for being so slow

it's hard to recommend people things, I'm not deeply inside the capability of it, and most beatles books, like the beatles themselves, are basically awful

the books on my beatles shelf that I feel most fondly towards aren't about beatles, they're about Tara Browne and Robert Fraser

i want desperately to recommend the books by Maureen Cleave and Iris Caldwell but they never wrote them so I can't, so don't read those

i really like dakota days by john green. that's probably embarrassing to be the first book I can think of that I like but there we go. I think I went in with very low expectations, so that probably helped and I've ruined that for you by saying it's good. it's about john with yoko, not all the beatles, and as with all john books, the author is very 'actually I knew John well, I really got him...' which is what all men do, but then instead of 'we shared this amazing connection! he TRULY LOVED ME!!' he's more 'he was just really fucked up and desperate to be loved' which is not what most men do, so I liked that. Also he storifies it all, which keeps you a bit detached from how heartbreakingly sad it all is if it's remotely true.

i loved the longest cocktail party by richard delillo. I thought it captured apple beautifully, and it's very much of it's time, which is also the beatles's time, so it's very much of the beatles even if they're not often there. it was written in 1970 and it does cover the total death of all happiness, but obviously only from a very close perspective, and he'd left by then and everyone disappeared, so instead of pretending to know things he doesn't, he just drifts into newspaper headlines and reports, and it works really well for a person like me who finds the endings very difficult

i think one of the very first beatles books I read was here, there, and everywhere, by geoff emerick and I have a lot of remembering it being good while now not really remembering it, but i do like books by people who were actually trying to work while the beatles were around, rather than trying to wank all over them, because there is a suitable level of frustration with them, which makes it all feel a bit more bearable. you do have to put up with how much he hates george, but we have to put up with a lot of things

as time goes by, by derek taylor, is very good if you don't mind that derek taylor is living his life in inverted commas and I'm only recommending you books about the terrible aching sadness of the end, sorry. I love the way it's written though, I love the way it's felt, I love how much he hates Paul in 1968... but then as he says, many of the people he likes most are absolutely terrible, and he means brian, but it's true of all of them and I just really like that he feels it

everyone recommends it I know it's not new, but michael braun wrote the beatles's progress and that is very good and earlier and brighter than a lot of what I've mentioned. and it's short! which I think is important in beatles books too, because it means people aren't trying to fill pages. apart from the cocktail party all of these are quite short.

actually that's probably my main advice when you're trying to decide to read beatles books:

pick short ones to start with

pick ones written by people who worked with/for them

pick your favourite era and start there

and you don't have to care whether it's 'trusted' or 'reliable' or whatever, care about whether you enjoy it, and then pick over the bones of the biases later

i have read some of the big full biographies, but they're kind of boring, trying to tell you everything when they don't actually know anything and they weren't there. tumblr's better for that. also they sort of pretend not to have an opinion, which is both a lie and a boredom, because opinions are the best thing. books by people who knew them DEFINITELY have opinions and you get to judge them.

I liked pete best's book more than I thought I would, I just read it the other week. I can't remember a lot about alistair taylor's book now, but I remember enjoying it, specially to get more sense of brian, and brian's autobiography is written by derek taylor so it snips along. either of george martin's books is nice and quick. chris salewicz wrote the best biography of paul mccartney and it fits in your pocket. cynthia and may are both good.

#beatles books #the beatles #a moment of silence for the book maureen cleave should have written

[ptn-imagines]

Hi there! Glad to see another PtN focused blog. Do you have any romantic sfw and nsfw headcanons for Sumire and Chief!reader? I feel that Sumire is a great partner but she gets overshadowed by the more popular Sinners paired with Chief, so I’d love to see her get more, well, love! Thanks!

You're absolutely right! I've loved Sumire for a long time and this ask finally got me to do her interrogation. I love her even more now! I feel like she's up there with Cinnabar on the list of potential perfect partner candidates!

NSFW below the cut.

Sumire x Chief (SFW+NSFW)

Even after everything, Sumire has a habit of being distant, watching Chief from afar with a wistful gaze in her eyes. They weren’t blind to it, and were more than aware that she was still protecting them from threats in the shadows.

They also, as time went on, began to understand that Sumire viewed them as more than just a friend. There was a certain fond adoration in the assassin’s eyes when she looked at them,  and her smile always seemed to turn brighter when she saw them.

It was… cute, if the Chief was being honest with themself. Sumire’s behavior was very charming indeed, and… well, she was pretty. Sumire didn’t seem to think much of herself and her scarred, worn body, but the more Chief gazed upon her, the more they found themself appreciating her as if she were the moon itself, or a particularly breathtaking piece of artwork.

Chief considered their options. It was very much against rules for them to be in a relationship with a Sinner, but Sumire was an assassin, after all; subtlety was the name of the game for her. Surely she could keep a relationship clandestine.

Chief wasn’t sure how to express their feelings in words, though, so they resorted to another language they knew Sumire would understand: flowers. Using the guise of a minor dispatch mission, the Chief brought Sumire to an Eastside park underneath the full moon and presented her with a bouquet of seven red roses, three sunflowers, and a medley of primroses, violets, and, of course, cherry blossoms.

Even if Sumire hadn’t understood their meaning (she had, of course; what sort of Garden assassin wouldn’t?), receiving a bouquet in a setting such as this can only mean one thing. Her eyes widened, and the Chief couldn’t help but focus on the shocked ‘o’ her lips formed, beautiful even when surprised.

The pale moonlight showed the blush emerging on Sumire’s pale skin as she accepted the bouquet – and with it, the confession. She held the flowers close as though afraid she might drop them, and the two stood in silence for a moment, the night breeze gently playing with their hair.

“Chief, I never thought…” Sumire stopped, seeming to reconsider her words, before continuing. “I’m honored that you’d pick me above all others. My feelings for you… I have loved you for a long time now.”

The rest of the night is spent innocently, the two laying in the park watching the night sky and talking in hushed voices. The only sign that something had changed was when Sumire returned with the Chief’s jacket around her shoulders – her explanation was simply that the Chief had given it to her, worried that she might catch a chill (which, in all fairness, was true).

As Chief had expected, Sumire expertly kept their relationship hidden – she acted much the same as she always did around the Chief, and her lingering close by but also at a distance was simply her normal, so nobody questioned it.

Well, Coquelic and Garofano noticed. Still, their primary concern was that Sumire was happy, so they didn’t make a fuss out of it, aside from some teasing remarks and well-wishes (and threats towards Chief when Sumire wasn’t in earshot. Chief was very, very glad they had no intentions of breaking Sumire’s heart.)

While affairs at the Bureau contained business as normal, a discerning eye might notice that the Chief was taking Sumire as an escort on a staggering amount of “nighttime dispatches.” These mainly consisted of walks (in well-lit parks) and visits to the theaters of Eastside, as most of the nightlife was not to their liking, but the day held too much risk of being caught.

Still, occasionally they’d find a 24-hour cafe or some such that they’d both become enamored with; they’d become regulars at those places, albeit not too regular just in case.

Overall, while their relationship was quiet and fairly lowkey, both Chief and Sumire were happier than they had ever been. Each saw the other as a break from the hectic bustle of their daily lives, and both couldn’t imagine parting from each other. Theirs is a relationship that is likely to stay together, even if official marriage isn’t in the cards for a relationship such as theirs.

They don’t often have the opportunity to have sex, but when they do, Sumire is entirely focused on Chief’s pleasure. The Chief attends to her as dutifully as they can, of course, but the simple fact of the matter is that the Chief’s pleasure is Sumire’s pleasure; usually she reaches her own climax not long after they do.

Sumire doesn’t enjoy penetrative sex very much, and much prefers to orally pleasure the Chief. Inexperience means that it can be messy at times, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad. Sumire’s devotion makes up for any shortcomings.

Sumire’s instinctive nature is gentle sex, but if the Chief asks for it rough, she will oblige with a surprising fierceness that serves as a reminder that every rose has thorns.

When it comes to kink, Sumire is very vanilla. She’s willing to try some of the tamer stuff if Chief wants it, but it’s very much not her thing, and she’ll gently but firmly assert her boundaries on this.

That being said, she enjoys the artistry of shibari and is in fact very skilled at it; apparently, in addition to finding the end product beautiful, it also calms Sumire’s mind. When asked by the Chief about how she got so skilled with the ropes, Sumire admitted that she had been practicing on herself for quite a long time.

Aftercare with these two is usually a shared bath, washing each other’s hair and bodies. Afterwards, they have a tendency to fall asleep in each other’s arms, comfortable and blissed. It’s probably this that poses the biggest risk of exposure to their relationship, but hey, they haven’t been found out yet…

#ptn #path to nowhere #ptn sumire #path to nowhere sumire #sumire #ptn headcanons #path to nowhere headcanons #headcanons

[mynameis-noe-body]

Masterlist

For those wondering: I closed the previous mynameis-noe-body blog and opened a new one, to make it a main blog and have free access to dm.

First of all, rules. This is a list of my works, and I will rate them accordingly to Ao3 guidelines. This means they may be explicit and so, strictly +18.

I will write for the following fandoms and more (find more in others).

I will not write underage. I am comfortable with a certain amount of angst and/or violence but it's still up to me to decide what I am okay with.

I will not write for The Marauders fandom, since I do not appreciate those characters.

Requests are closed for the moment. And thank you for reading.

▪️Wizarding World

Shot through the heart

Professor Severus Snape × Original Female Character

Rating: Mature

Status: Complete (multiple chapters)

Summary: Licorice Hatch has traveled the world, fulfilling her dream of becoming one of the most famous writers and reporters in the Wizarding World. Now, she is coming back. Merlin only knows the turmoil she has caused in the heart of her dark, splendid professor. And at the very thought — eager to hold her in his arms again — Severus can't help but relive their whole story, from the very beginning, when it all started with a Wilbur Smith's book and... a two-month detention!

The Old Mill at the Hogsmeade's Eastern Forest

Post-Second Wizarding War Severus Snape × you (F)

Rating: Mature

Status: in progress (multiple chapters)

Summary: A year and a half after the end of the war, Severus still hasn't managed to leave Britain. No one knows of his survival, and for months he enjoys a life of silence, solitude and well-deserved peace. Everything would be absolutely perfect, were it not for you, sitting on his empty tombstone everyday to bring condolences and read some poetry. When it's said that curiosity killed the cat...

▪️Adam Driver Fandom

How to (not) kill a stranger

Kylo Ren × you (F)

Rating: Explicit

Status: Complete (multiple chapters)

Summary: He glances at you. "A young lady like you shouldn't travel alone, on a night like this." You want to roll your eyes and send him to hell, but he was kind to help you and you don't want any more trouble. "I couldn't really stay in Aberdeen. I knew my old Corolla wouldn't hold up for long, not in this weather, but I wanted to at least get to the Motel for the night." He nods, raises the temperature of the car and you thank him again. He doesn't acknowledge your words. But he smirks. "Aren't you afraid you just crossed your path with a murderer?" You grin. "What are the odds that we are both murderers?"

▪️Stranger Things

Catch me if you can, Chief!

Chief Jim Hopper × you (F)

Rating: Explicit

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: It's the 4th of July in Hawkins, and while everybody's having fun at the amusement park, the only one who's catching your attention is Jim Hopper, Chief of Police — and he's looking at you, equally interested.

This Friday night

Chief Jim Hopper × you (F)

Rating: Mature

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: All alone on a Friday night, after a long week of college classes, you just want to eat some ice cream and watch a movie. You didn't expect Jim to pay you visit — but god, if it isn't a nice surprise. OR — you and Jim (your father's best friend) get intimate on your parents' couch.

“Nothing to say, hm?”

Chief Jim Hopper × you (F)

Rating: Mature

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: You let Billy flirt with you a little... that might not be a good idea. Jim will find a very passionate way of showing his jealousy.

Sunday morning: pancakes and...

Chief Jim Hopper x you (F)

Rating: Mature

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: You make Jim breakfast and decide to wake him up with your hands and mouth.

▪️John Wick Fandom

🖤 Marquis Vincent Bisset De Gramont 🖤

I am your slave

Marquis Vincent Bisset De Gramont × you (F/GN)

Rating: Teen & Up Audience

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: You and Vincent play the jealousy game at a public evening gala of the High Table. You end up revelieng almost all of your feelings to each other.

Safe in his arms

Marquis Vincent Bisset De Gramont × you (F/GN)

Rating: Teen & Up Audience

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: Vincent, who has fallen in love with you and made you his beautiful wife, has never really told you about his true life of crime and murder. What will you do the first time you catch him red handed?

Little dove

Marquis Vincent Bisset De Gramont × you (F)

Rating: Explicit

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: You're the Marquis' favorite tailor — and you always act so innocent and pure it would just too much fun to ruin you (corruption kink).

🖤 John Wick 🖤

Origami

John Wick × reader (F/GN)

Rating: All

Status: Complete (one shot - drabble)

Summary: A casual encounter lead you and John to looking for each other, wishing to meet again.

▪️Others (open to write for: Alice in Wonderland, Joker(s), Johnny Depp fandom)

Wonderland Chronicles

Tarrant Higtop (Mad Hatter) × Alice Kingsley

Fandom: Alice in Wonderland

Rating: Explicit

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: Alice and Tarrant get inspired by fruit juices and enjoy smutty time, all alone during a tea party.

🔹A list of k*nks without explanation

Severus Snape

Lucius Malfoy

Eddie Munson

Billy Hargrove

Chief Jim Hopper

#harry potter #adam driver #alice in wonderland #starnger things #jim hopper #severus snape #pro snape #snape x you #snape x oc #adam driver x reader #mad hatter #masterlist #request #eddie munson #billy hargrove

[crow-raven-crow]

hey first of all i LOVE you’re work

i wanted to ask which fics you’re currently working on ?

𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨, 𝐝𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐲 - tldr at the bottom of the post xx

first of all - thank you🥰 I honestly never knew I would get this far, but posting my work here was the greatest decision I could've made. It feels amazing to post my work and have people enjoy it just like me :)

second - I have six requests in the works right now. I work in order of request and (because I'm traveling a lot these next few months) I'm mostly going to be doing requests and any other one shots that I come up with/want to indulge myself in. I really want to do fics with Brienne (i love her so much) and even some of the lovely Morningstar, so I'll either follow the requests or post something of my own.

This is also going to allow me to build up my next series because it's actually a really cool idea (to me) but I have absolutely no idea how many chapters its going to be.

★ In terms of requests, I have (in order from top to bottom):

Enemies to lovers - hate sex, Larissa x Reader

Lyric Fic to Eat Your Young by Hozier - going the sexual route with this one instead of the real meaning (about capitalism lol), Larissa x Reader

Sex Tape - g!p Larissa x Reader, plot twist, good ending

Lyric Fic to Young and Beautiful by Lana Del Ray - romantic, full of fluff, Larissa x Reader

Hecate Hardbroom x Reader - I'm currently looking into this character, but she seems really cool. Anon, if you have any specific requests for this, shoot me another message in my inbox please. I wanna know if you want fluff or smut or if you want anything specific to play out &lt;3

Virgin Reader x Larissa Weems - first time, everyone expected otherwise from reader, soft

What's above is what's in the request. When I get there, titles will be posted to my masterlist of what is in the works in sections, but the titles are subject to change. The top request is the one I'm currently working on, so the title is actually already on my masterlist.

★ In terms of series (in the works, not coming out for A WHILE):

Larissa Weems x Professor Reader (title on my masterlist)

Brienne of Tarth x Reader

these are both on the longer side, are still in the works, and are listed VERY vaguely because the ideas I have behind them are ones I haven't seen before (I am and will continue to gatekeep, sorry xoxo)

★ When it comes to my own ideas:

I have around 6-7 one shots, two of which have the potential to become series. HOWEVER, I do prioritize my requests, so I won't mention my ideas for them because I do not know when they will come out. Most are Larissa x Reader, there's one that's Lucifer x Reader, and there's another where I don't know if i should do Brienne, Larissa, or Lucifer (it will probably be Brienne, though).

★ Other Notes:

sections of other characters will be created on my masterlist when a fic with them in it gets posted, but I seem to be a main Larissa Weems blog. If they're one-offs, they'll be posted in an "others" sections.

please remember I'm in college and also work, so things might take longer than some of you may like (I'm getting there, I swear)

look at my masterlist before turning in requests - there are some things I won't write, so if it's requested then I'll skip over that part of the request or the whole request entirely

TLDR: 6 requests, 2 series, 6-7 of my own ideas in the words. I prioritize requests sent to my inbox, and I work in order. Titles of things will be posted on my masterlist in sections and are subject to change. Series are on pause for me due to travel, so don't expect them for quite some time.

Thank you for the ask, lovely anon. This is the first one I've gotten that was just a question, and it was a nice excuse to update everyone else as well. Any questions like these will be under the same tag on my profile (second tag down below).

~ 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐯𝐲𝐧

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

#crowravencrow #crowvyn answered #crowvyn updates #masterlist #oneshot #one shot #in the works #wip #larissa weems #principal larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #principal weems x reader #brienne of tarth #brienne of tarth x reader #brienne x reader #lady brienne #lucifer morningstar #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader

[mllemaenad]

The Magnus Protocol: Personal Screening

The interesting thing here is how much this is about a person proceeding with a very unwise course of action despite quite clear warnings that he should stop.

To be clear, I'm not of the "stay ignorant of the monsters or they will get you" school of thought. The Magnus Archive had 200 episodes. Most of those were about someone who did not work at The Magnus Institute having a decidedly unpleasant supernatural experience. Most of those people had no particular reason to believe the monsters even existed before that experience occurred. Ignorance won't save you, and there were a handful of cases where someone competent (say, Adelard Dekker) actually knew something that could and did save people.

Understanding the kind of world, the kind of story, you're in, and how its rules work, is an important aspect of surviving a horror story. But poking a bear just to see what happens is generally not a wise course of action.

And I'm usually sympathetic to the statement givers, even when they do things that are obviously the wrong thing to do in a horror story. The average person has no reason to expect that poking around in some back streets in search of a lost companion is going to lead them to a faceless, screaming crowd, or that getting on a cable car could led to travelling into an endless sky. People don’t plan their days around things like that, and you can’t expect them to know ahead of time what sort of story they’ve wandered into. But this guy ... Tom. Tom, what is wrong with you? That is not how competitions work.

The case quite obviously interrupts Sam filling in his mysterious “Response department” forms, which sound an awful lot like poking a bear just to see what will happen.

Sam And I’m going to fill it in anyway. See what happens. Alice You’re wasting your time. Sam It’s my time to waste. – The Magnus Protocol: Personal Screening

And while it may be no more than coincidence, it’s impossible not to note that the title of the blog post that draws Tom back in calls back to the language Sam used to describe The Magnus Institute:

Sam What? Oh no, I’m fine. It just threw me. Have you ever heard of the Magnus Institute? Gwen Like from the case? No. Why? Sam Nothing. Just a bit of a blast from the past, that’s all. – The Magnus Protocol: First Shift

Chester/Tom BLOG POST: GENERAL: A BLAST FROM THE PAST – The Magnus Protocol: Personal Screening

If not a coincidence, that could be a fairly pointed warning.

Tom's story is very much about a man prodding at an old wound – and in doing so ignoring every single warning that he is heading into danger. It is as much about what is not said as what is. The blog itself is full of gaps: there are the deleted blog posts about various pieces of horror media, which mean that Tom is stripped down purely to the narrative that destroyed him.

Arguably, given the last post, he is a lure for the next person – but I don't believe this actually fits with what is there. You can see, yes that:

Chester/Tom Voyeur needs to be seen to be believed. The scariest movie I have ever seen. – The Magnus Protocol: Personal Screening

But if you read the entire contents of the blog, you also get a very clear rundown of why you absolutely should not see it. You're not going to get bored or distracted by Tom's 4,000 word review of Puppet Master 4 and never see the pertinent information. It's all clearly laid out for you. Tom didn't heed the warnings. Will you? And, by extension, will Sam?

Personal Screening refers, of course, to the viewing that Tom "won", but also to a screening process. There are numerous red flags in the Voyeur story to which Tom is utterly oblivious. Many people would simply not have followed that trail. But the process has effectively "screened" for someone who will go on to the very end.

And there Sam sits, having first ticked the box he wasn't supposed to tick, and now filling out the forms he's been warned not to fill in. How many more steps will there be before he reaches the end of his screening process?

And then, of course, there's the long silence between the first post and the second. It is not outright stated, but pretty heavily implied that Tom's father's "accident" occurred shortly after the first post was made. This is what Tom "went through" and what made him stop posting.

Everything around the Voyeur setup is framed around taking Tom back before that time: the "like minded people" who discuss horror the way his father did; the cinema he frequented with his father; the popcorn he devoured as a child.

He's a horror fan, but that doesn't help him. In point of fact, it probably puts him in more peril, because he notes that horror no longer scares him:

Chester/Tom I know that I only found out about this film like a week ago, but I feel like I’ve been waiting to see something that would truly scare me for… years now. I feel like I’ve just been kind of… numb to the whole genre. Obviously, I still really enjoy everything horror related, but it takes a lot to get any sort of reaction out of me these days… I even started seeking out the borderline “should be illegal” stuff… Faces of Death, the August Underground series… even those barely get a shudder out of me… I’m hoping this might finally scratch that itch. – The Magnus Protocol: Personal Screening

He has presumably watched hundreds of characters come to terms with the fact that they are in a horror story and resolve themselves to deal with it. But virtually nothing makes an impression on him: not the disappearing comments; the odd website; the wildly incoherent contest submission; the mysterious letter; the bizarre disparity between the exterior and interior of the theatre; the lone, deeply suspicious, employee; the whole setup being for a single "fan" with no obvious promotional benefit for anybody involved – nothing. Only the realisation that, not only does the cinema have footage from his life, but that there is something wrong with it, provokes any reaction. Even then, that reaction is more consternation than terror.

If you do poke a bear, you should know exactly why you're doing it and be prepared for the response. Tom obviously dances around the emotional issue – and never fully grasps the rules of the world he inhabits.

And, well, this is a Chester story. Is Chester John? Could not say. If The Magnus Protocol intends to discuss the identity of the voices, it has not chosen to do so yet.

The story is certainly relevant to his interests, though.

Horror, if it's any good, is usually about something, rather than just gore for gore's sake. It's unsurprising that Tom did not like The Babadook: the story frames itself around the worrying behaviour of a child whose father was killed in a car accident. Tom is seeking horror for nostalgia: that story would be asking him to confront things he does not want to think about. But the film also contains a malevolent children's book, whose titular character comes to terrorise the family – which has definite shades of A Guest for Mr. Spider.

It's not about the reference, though: it's about the attitude to the threat.

Now, I don't believe "ignored all reasonable warnings and charged headlong toward ruin" is a reasonable summary of John's story. But I do think that's how he tended to frame it:

Archivist Healthy? I am an Avatar of voyeuristic terror, whose unquestioned craving for knowledge has condemned the entire world to an eternity of torment; healthy i-isn’t – i,it’s not – – The Magnus Archives: Dwelling

The thing is, John was always keenly aware of the danger.

Archivist Of course, I believe. Of course I do. Have you ever taken a look at the stuff we have in Artefact Storage? That’s enough to convince anyone. But, but even before that… Why do you think I started working here. It’s not exactly glamorous. I have… I’ve always believed in the supernatural. Within reason. I mean. I still think most of the statements down here aren’t real. Of the hundreds I’ve recorded, we’ve had maybe… thirty, forty that are… that go on tape. Now, those, I believe, at least for the most part. Martin Then why do you – Archivist Because I’m scared, Martin! Because when I record these statements it feels… it feels like I’m being watched. I… I lose myself a bit. And then when I come back, it’s like… like if I admit there may be any truth to it, whatever’s watching will… know somehow. The scepticism, feigning ignorance. It just felt safer. – The Magnus Archives: Infestation

Access to the right information might well have saved him a lot of misery. But what he got was access to a lot of the wrong information, because people significantly more powerful than he was had access to enough personal details about him to know exactly what buttons they had to push to get him to behave a certain way. And Voyeur – well, it's right there in the title. Whatever is pursuing Tom is also keenly aware, not just of footage from his personal life, but of all the little details of his personal experience that would draw him in. And, implicitly, it enjoyed exploiting that.

The whole of The Magnus Archives, like this blog, could be taken as a warning. And by the end, a lot of his motivation was geared toward preventing another person from walking his path:

Archivist [With sadness] You didn’t speak the words! You didn’t feel them move through you, vomiting out of you like… … I did this. It’s my fault. And I don’t want… I can’t let anyone else feel that. That helpless, enormous guilt. Ever. – The Magnus Archives: Seeing It Through

I don't especially think Sam will walk John's path, or not exactly. Mostly because I don't think there's much point in telling the same story twice. But I do think it would be John's primary concern. And Sam – Sam has experience of the supernatural. And Sam wants something badly enough to pursue it with what at least looks like a devil-may-care attitude. It may be that he is, in fact, better prepared to deal with what he finds than it appears. But there's a warning here: why are you poking a bear? And will getting what you want be worth the price?

As for Chester's source material – well, that's interesting too. So far:

Norris's stories have both accessed very private information: an email chain in one instance, a diary in the other.

Chester's have both drawn on reasonably public information: a forum thread and a blog.

Augustus has only had one story, so it's unreasonable to draw extended conclusions, but it does differ from both of the above: it was taken from a letter that would have been private when written, but is likely regarded as a simple historical artefact now.

But, well, as they say: once is happenstance, twice is coincidence ...

In terms of the rest of the framing story, it makes me think about the difference of the audience position between this and The Magnus Archives. Just as the statements were largely willingly given in The Magnus Archives, the audience was generally allowed to listen in.

Tape recorders, after all, record. And they play back. That's what they do. There's no ambiguity about what person is doing if they are using a tape recorder. And mostly, the cast used them deliberately, to record statements or thoughts or (apparently) poetry.

After a while, John tended to treat the tape recorder as a sympathetic ear in a hostile environment, and would just flop down and tell you how unbearably weird his week had been. Martin tended to use the tapes to leave messages for John, but also sometimes spoke to them directly. There were characters, like Tim and Melanie, who became actively hostile to the tapes, and because of that you would only hear them in specific circumstances. That might colour your perception of them, but it was a choice they were allowed to make.

I'm not arguing there were no violations of privacy in The Magnus Archives – there very much were. But in terms of the tapes this tended to come down to a minute or so of overheard conversation, some subsequent shouting once the tape recorder was discovered, and then the tape recorder being very firmly turned off.

As the audience, you might eavesdrop a little, but most of the time you were included as an additional, if silent, character in the conversation. And if you were overhearing something the characters did not want you to, they could usually cut you out.

Here, just as the characters in the stories don't know they're sharing their stories, the main cast don't know they're being recorded. Sam has been watching Colin, and reports this to Lena behind his back. But we are watching Sam in turn. Gwen is investigating a recording of Lena and a former IT Manager, and we watch her do that.

Only Colin seems aware they're being observed, and he is becoming obsessive about avoiding it.

And it's a thing, obviously, in the modern world. Your phone has a microphone, and so may your TV and various other devices. And people mostly do just ignore it, because they have little other practical choice.

It's even highlighted in this story itself:

Chester/Tom BLOG POST: GENERAL: NO WAY I WON THE CONTEST! I can’t believe it! The invitation was waiting when I got home today, in a small black envelope. I don’t even remember giving them my address. The website must have logged my IP and looked it up or something… I’m really not sure how any of that works. – The Magnus Protocol: Personal Screening

I don't actually believe that's what happened here – but if it did, it would be a different kind of horrifying thing, to which Tom is cheerfully indifferent. The idea that he might be so completely surveilled, and that unknown people will act on that surveillance at will, simply does not phase him.

But if The Magnus Archives cast the audience as a known listener, inviting you in to hear its characters' woes – where are our sympathies pointed here, where we are very much on the outside looking in?

#the magnus protocol #the magnus protocol spoilers #the magnus archives

[slashingdisneypasta]

I know nothing about the DmD trio other than from your blog... But you already know how in love with the Tinman I am XD I had to send an ask for my random few thoughts.

- please- indulge me for a moment. You know that ship dynamic of the gentle giant and the overprotective short stack? That's what I've been imagining with Tinny. Him getting an S/O who is smaller than him (though that wouldn't be hard, I guess XD), but I will absolutely throw hands on his behalf. If he could without hurting them, he could pick them up and set them aside before dealing with the danger himself. Because he'll fight for them too ^^ (Also made me think; If Scarcrow got a Tinman's second in command!S/O and Lion has a Scarecrows assistant!S/O, what if Tinny got a Lions best warriors!S/O? Assuming he has his own army. Or someone associated with Lion?)

- TINMAN FEELING SO GUILTY WHEN HE ACCIDENTALLY CUTS YOU AND APOLOGIZING SO PROFUSELY, EXPECTING YOU TO YELL AT HIM LIKE DOROTHY, ONLY FOR YOU TO ASSURE HIM THAT YOU KNEW HE DIDNT MEAN IT 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

- In general; Tinny knowing what it's like to be loved through you ^^ and just- realizing he's no longer in an abusive relationship the longer you two are together 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 you don't yell and insult him, you don't order anything from him, and you never expect him to commit terrible crimes for you. You just want your lovely tin man <3

- Imagine taking in interest in his crafting hobby and sitting with him, or even asking him to teach you! Even if you just want to enjoy his company and have no desire for metal bending, Tinny will be so so so happy and elated to have you here with him ^^

- KISSING TIN!!!!! Holding his cold, metal face delicately while rubbing a thumb along his cheek, maybe brushing against his sharp overbite, your guys' eyes filled with love for each other before you lean in and carefully press your lips against his needle like teeth and lips??? SIGN ME UP! 📃📃📃📃📃

- TIN BEING TOUCH STARVED TIN BEING TOUCH STARCED TIN BEING TOUCH STARVED-

(.... Uh... *cough* I'm not sure if Tinny still has the ~equipment~ or the ~desire~, but you can try to grind on a smooth part of him, or convince him to get extensions. I'm certain he'll want to make happy in bed as well 😏 ok bye-)

- hm... Ngl I'm already wondering what a Yan!DmD!Tinny would be like... I have no self control 😅 of course you know his character more than me, but I like the idea that if he truly went full yandere mode, completely love struck with someone more hopelessly than with Dorothy, he would be more persistent in gaining their affections. It feels like with Dorothy that he'll try something with her, she'll hurt him, and he'll give her some space before trying again. And was slowly realizing that she didn't love him, before Glinda stepped in. But he still hasn't given up. Can you imagine how amplified that'd be if he were yandere?? Maybe even fully deluded that you'll love him instead of just listening to what others tell him? 🤔 what do you think? If you want to comment.

All I've got for now XD as you can see, in my mind, we're already married, live in a cottage in the woods, and are raising three robot children that we built togetger XD (omg this is another example of us falling in love with partner characters(?) You have Scarecrow, and I have Tin... It sounds like we might share Lion though XD) I hope these make you smile! ^^

THIS MADE ME COMBUST.

C OM B U S T.

I- HMMMMMM *BUZZING FROM EXCITEMENT* WHERE DO I EVEN START-

Okay first of all OMG YES!! It is another Norman/Wayne / Psycho/Greasy / Granny/Big Bad kinda situation!! 🤣🤣🤣 I love this, I love that we do this XD YESS Lion is like Wheezy, we both love him and need to appreciate him more XD

And second of all- YES! TIN MAN IS GONNA GET A FIC WHERE HIS S/O IS CLOSE TO THE LION! THAT WAS THE PLAN FROM THE START! XD I love sympatry.

Okay okay okay now onto your actual points- I must take a deep breath first XD

... hoo, okay. Let go.

Gentle Giant/Over Protective Short Stack: Yessss 🥺🥺🥺 Oh boy, does he need it. He needs someone who will CROSS the throne room the millisecond that Dorothy crosses the line and curse at her like a sailor like how DARE you!?- And that second part?? Tin picking his crazy small S/O up (Very carefully, with those fingers of his) and placing them somewhere to the side (Maybe into the arms of one of his tin soldiers- yes, he has entire army fully at his command. They're tin/biology hybrids frankensteined together by Scare) before Dealing with the situation himself. I can see it so clearly it is making my heart ache. Tin scooping you up, saying 'thank you, spring blossom (he'd use all sortsa cringy cute names like that genuinely XD ), but please, please let me handle this for you. The last thing we want is for you to be hurt', and carefully passing you off to another soldier he trusts. He carefully pushes some of your hair behind your ear, then turns back to the threat; straightens up to his f u l l building-like height, and takes care of shit. And the whole time, he wouldn't let even one piece of whoever he's Taking Care Of to hit you (The man is THOROUGH).

Tin Accidentally Hurting S/O:

He was on his knees, again. You told him a million times he doesn't need to do that, but the sweet, dramatic man just cant help himself. And honestly? You don't mind it, actually- You can kiss him and fluster him a lot easier this way. But this time?? This time he was on his knees profusely apologising. And you couldn't take it!! There was no need!! He just accidentally sliced you across the cheek with one of his fingers- he didn't mean to, and you both know it! You hear Dorothy give a snigger from her throne nearby, baring witness to this. You also see the Scarecrow drops his head backwards and sigh heavily at the display- but you don't care about Tin's so-called friends. You care about Tin. You take Tin's big metal head in your hands. " -so sorry. I don't know what came over me, I can do better. I would never, ever fetter your perfect skin on purpose- " "I know, I know." Instead of insisting he don't be silly and he cant help it sometimes!!, which is what you want to do!, you focus on calming him. Because everyone is watching, and he's probably mortified. You just want him to be okay. "Please Tin, its fine. Everyone knows you wouldn't hurt me on purpose." There's a hint of panic in his voice when he speaks next, a little quieter; following your lead and acting as if its just you two, here. Just him, and you. Safe. "Someone might think they could care for you better then me." "Doesn't matter." You whisper. "I know, they couldn't."

Having a Healthy Relationship with Tin: My heart <3 Yes! I can see him struggling with that- even before Dorothy went bad he was willing to give her anything. But imagine any time he offers you something, you're like 'oh that sounds nice! good idea Tin! lets do it together ^^' and leading him off before he can protest. And he s l o w l y starts to feel so so comfortable with you <3<3

"Moon flower, could I get you a drink?" "Oh yeah, I'd love one! Thank you! ^^ Lets go, and we'll get you some oil as well, love." *connecting arms and towing him towards the kitchens* *Eyes wide* "Oh- but I'm fin- " "I can hear you squeaking. Lets go!~ " *gentle voice* "You don't need to worry about me, my love." "No, I don't need to, but I don't mind." *pats his arm gently*

Crafting Together: WAHHHHHHHH, JUST IMAGINING SITTING THERE NEXT TO HIM WATCHING IN UTTER ADORATION AND AWE AND HE DOESNT EVEN NOTICE, JUST ENJOYS TELLING YOU ABOUT HIS THING, UNTIL LATER LION MENTIONS HE SAW YOU HIM AND 'YOUR LADY FRIEND LOOKED BESOTTED, OLD FRIEND'

Kissing, Affection & Sex: Yes yes yes kissing Tin <3<3<3 Oh my goodness. Cupping his large face and stroking his cheeks, leaving feather-light kisses all over his smooth metal cheeks and underbite, gently scraping your nails down his chest or any other smooth part of him and he SHUDDERS (I don't know how physical feeling works for him, especially since Scare was able to pop open his chest and enhance his heart without Tin feeling a thing but when Amy sliced it open it hurt him, but I don't care. It works. It is all in working order because I say so XD), curling your fingers between tangled springs and wires and hearing him gasp, kissing the side of his pointy nose, absentmindedly and gently sliding your finger along the dull side of each of his fingers, etc. Him stroking the dull side of his pointer fingers under your chin when he wants you to look up so he can see your pretty face, him being afraid to touch you or kiss you himself but asking you to touch/kiss him, him raising his hips or his leg (Or wherever you've deemed it safe to rub yourself) in an effort to make it feel better for you- aghhhhh XD I'm not okay XD

And- EXTENSIONS?? Omg yes he would absolutely do that for his S/O XD You wouldn't even have to ask man!! He'd anticipate it, once you two actually got together!! XDD But like, the thing thats getting me here?? SCARECROW IS THE ONE WHO'LL HAVE TO MAKE THOSE ADJUSTMENTS XDD

"I'm sorry, uh, old friend, let me just... let me see if I fully understand. You want to...? " "I want to make some necessary improvements to my body for the sake of my human love's pleasure. At night." "... uhuh. And that means?" "I would like to be fitted with the tool's a human man has, or something better, for- " *impatient with Tin's awkward pussy footing* "Are you asking me to attach a Dick to you, Tin Woodman!???" "... Yes. Will you do it?" "... Fine... For Science."

Yandere Tin Woodman!!!!!: Oooooookay. I'm struggling to gather my thoughts here XD To an extent, I think Woody is actually already kindof Yandere XD I mean, before Dorothy even shows her 'true colours' herself, he's doing some not-so-above-board things for her. Like forcing his people (The Winky's) to walk for days non stop to the Emerald palace to be her army. And then, when she seems displeased, letting Scarecrow do what he wants with them (He's shocked when he finds out WHAT Scare did with them, which was Frankenstein them of course (which killed a good portion of them before he got the procedure Right), but he was miraculously easy to convince that it was a good idea when Scare and Glinda said Dorothy would like it). As well as letting Scarecrow adjust Tin's own heart with magic For Dorothy. So... yeah, to an extent, Tin is already obsessed with getting her to like him. But if he was All The Way Yandere like you're thinking... oh boy.

There would be no getting away. Remember how he's got a whole army at his disposal?? And d u n g e o n s??? 👀 Yeah. He'd be like 'I know you don't love me yet, and it is painful my sunlit dandelion, but you will eventually. You'll fall for me, eventually'.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS ASK!! Aghhhh, you're really enabling me here XD

#i was about to do a horror villain thing when i saw this!... thats been thrown out the window now- XD

[theimaginatrix27]

I've been in the Star Trek fandom spaces long enough, time to talk publicly about a thing that I am injecting into every fic where it is relevant

So if you've been paying attention to my blog the last couple months, you will know I am a huge fan of @enbygesserit 's work. They write the absolute best Dominion lore and fic I have ever had the pleasure of reading/encountering, and I eat up each new piece like my favourite confectionery.

What I am about to discuss predates any exposure I had to their work by at least thirteen years.

And the ship it surrounds was my DS9 OTP for two entire decades (before I discovered the O'Brien polycule and now my DS9 otp is a "One True Polyamorous tangle", but moving on).

That ship being Kiraodo. My heart broke when Odo confessed his love to an apparently dying Kira, she said she loved him back, and that was the clue for him to realise she was not Kira at all. And then when the Female Changeling Voice of the Link told him Kira would never love him because he was a Changeling, I was a tiny sad twelve-yo who thought, "But I love him!" And then I wanted it to be a thing.

And when I found out it was a thing in canon but they had to part ways at the end of the series, I was happy and sad at the same time.

I was a teenager, I didn't know the relationship felt awkward to some (though to be fair I still hated Children of Time and what the alternate/Gaia Odo did, but I address that in another fic so it's fine). I just wanted the sad Changeling and the fiery Bajoran to prove the mean Changeling wrong.

But also, I acknowledged to myself, even in 2009-10, that it would not be fair to Odo at all to make him leave his people again so quickly. I felt sympathetic toward the Changelings/Founders even as a teenager who had not and would not see DS9 in its entirety (curse you, cable TV! You with your reruns and exorbitant prices making it so hard for us to keep you for more than a few months at a time!) Anyways, I knew even then that I didn't want to take Odo away from his people again, even for him and Kira to be together.

So what was my solution?

Here were the canon points I considered at age nineteen (I was creating the bare bones of the Galactic Warp AU at the time and also had a strict must-adhere-to-canon policy for any fanfic ideas I'd had at the time):

The Great Link turned Odo into a solid.

The baby Changeling in The Begotten turned him back, at the cost of its life (but maybe not if it hadn't already been dying).

Therefore, it is canonically possible for a solid to become a Changeling.

What if Kira had been Changelinged?

WHY IS THAT NOT CANON?

I have this as a significant plot point in any Kiraodo content I'm going to write, so if you see Kiraodo becoming a thing in any fic, expect to see Changeling Kira show up somewhere.

"But wait!" someone yells. "You just said you didn't want to take Odo from his people, and Kira's Bajoranness is a huge part of her identity! And you're gonna just take that away from her?"

No, actually. You think the Prophets give a shit whether or not Kira's corporeal form is solid? Fuck no, they're not corporeal and time is not linear for them! The Kira is always the Kira. The Kira is always of Bajor. The Kira is always beloved of the Prophets.

This holds true in every single fic in which I have inserted this. Kira doesn't always become a Changeling full time (some of my AUs have magic), but more importantly, She never stops being Bajoran in the ways that really matter.

Which, if this had been a canon episode, would have been emphasised by the Prophets themselves and I am not taking critique on this.

"But the Founders would never do this in canon!" I hear you cry. "They hate solids and the Voice doesn't like Kira especially!"

First of all, the convoluted love triangle between Odo, Kira and the Voice was stupid.

Second of all, it doesn't even have to be them who do it, we got other more powerful entities around! Q was basically banned from DS9, sure, but what if Kira and Odo weren't on DS9?

Here's my idea for how this could have happened in canon, if the writers had really wanted to sell us the ship.

Odo and Kira have been away on a mission together (doesn't matter where, they just have to be off the station). It's sometime in Season 6, post the Dominion occupation of DS9. When the runabout returns, Odo coms the station and says he needs to give them warning about something, and they're going to have to take him at his word, however hard that may be.

"What's wrong?" Sisko asks. "And where's Major Kira?"

In response, Odo holds up his bucket. There is a Changeling in goo form inside.

"There was an—incident while we were returning from our mission. It was successful, by the way."

Sisko stares at the screen intently for a moment.

"Are you saying," he asks slowly, "that Major Kira was replaced by a Changeling?"

"No, Captain," Odo responds. "I am saying this Changeling is Major Kira."

Cue opening theme!

And possibly this would be a two-parter! I feel that with the whole theme of DS9 being nuance, and with the Dominion being such a big deal, it deserves to be!

Basically the plot would first involve a flashback to Q popping in while Kira and Odo are arguing about something Changeling-related or whatever, going "You know, I've been watching you and yours for a while now—from a safe distance of course—and frankly, I've been surprised by the lack of nuance with regard to the Founders."

And Kira's all, "Oh come on, don't you start with this high-and-mighty attitude! I read all the records about you after your last visit to Deep Space 9, you don't have any room to talk!"

"And neither do you," Q fires back. "You think your terrible acts were justified, don't you? Oh, you know they were dreadful, the fact that you could be so violent distressed you so! But when it comes down to it, you can sleep at night, because you helped drive out the Cardassians and set Bajor free. But when the Dominion imposes their order on their part of the galaxy because they used to be oppressed and were traumatised, you sit there on what moral high ground you have and pass judgment on them!"

"I don't need to hear this! Especially not from you! Sisko made you stay away from the station—from us! Now get off this runabout and leave us alone."

"Oh, you do need to hear it, Nerys. But if you insist on me leaving, let me do so on my terms. Don't worry, my little firework, I'll make sure you don't need my help undoing this." And he snaps his fingers and disappears.

And Kira's form begins to melt and she barely has time to call Odo's name before she dissolves into Changeling goo.

Back on DS9, everyone's a bit frantic after seeing the runabout footage, which confirms Odo's story. He links with her and is able to help her reform after a little time, during which we get to hear panicked Kira thoughts and some cool visuals of what the link is like for her. We get a scene after she's able to shift back into herself where Jadzia quips that she's got purple hair and Cardassian neck ridges or something, which is not amusing to her at all.

Then there's a whole discussion on how they're going to fix her before the rest of the Federation finds out, because "Are they going to believe the testimony of one rogue Changeling and the footage from a runabout computer? What if they decide Kira's a threat and take her into custody?"

And the answer is pretty obvious, especially after Julian examines a sample of her matrix and discovers traces of her dna are still in it.

They have to take her to the Great Link so she can be restored to solidity. The Founders are rather good at genetic manipulation, after all. It'll be fine!

Except they're at war, and the Voice does not like Kira, which forms the majority of the conflict, as they have to convince any Dominion forces they meet that "Seriously, we are not here to fight, please don't blow us up, we just want to help our friend, yes we mean it, don't fire!"

And in the end Kira has to pretend to be a Founder just to get the various ships to leave them alone, and it's weird as fuck for her but she makes it to the Great Link and the Voice is there and doesn't believe her at first until they link and she gets proof from her memories.

Which leads to Kira finding out about the morphogenic virus early, and being incensed, because "Look, I don't like you, but that's crossing multiple lines! I'd never have signed off on that if it were up to me, and I know Sisko wouldn't either! Doctor Bashir's brilliant—he can help you, I'm sure of it."

"Even if we did not help you right away?"

"I can wait, if I have to. I'm kind of getting used to this whole thing. It's been—an interesting experience."

And after another link to confirm that yes, she means that and it's not even in a bad way, the Voice consents to help her regain her solid status and she goes into the Great Link, gets a small taste of the Founders' collective trauma and is deeply moved by it, bursting into tears when she emerges, once more humanoid. There's a whole final scene about how she wishes more people in the Federation could have experienced what she did, and then she goes to write a log entry on the whole thing or something.

But this would absolutely change the trajectory of the war because that's how DS9 works, so it wouldn't just be handwaved away. in subsequent episodes, Julian is able to find a cure—possibly with help from within the Dominion itself because the Founders would very much like to not die and Julian is being Julian at them and they're taking a real liking to him.

And the galaxy is saved because Q did a thing! But also Kira understands Odo better after this and their relationship is all the richer for it.

*Starts chanting* It should've been canon, it should've been canon, it should've been canon, IT SHOULD'VE BEEN CANON!

#Kiraodo #Dominion Tag #Changeling Kira #IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN CANON DAMN IT!