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hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 1 year

Text

Between the pages

AN: Shoutout to Indigo for violently thrusting me back into my Namjoon feelings. This has been a long time in the making.

Synopsis: If anyone asks, Professor Kim is definitely not crushing on the pretty librarian he spends all of his free time with on campus.

Heads up: Kim Namjoon x Fem! Reader, friends to lovers, so much pining, Non-Idol AU, University professor! Namjoon, Librarian! Reader, Reader wears glasses and Namjoon thinks it's hot, alcohol and alcohol consumption, Reader kisses Namjoon without his explicit consent at first, dirty talk, fingering (f. receiving), Reader sucks on Namjoon's fingers post fingering, praise kink (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex and creampie.

Word count: 4535

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

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Namjoon tries to convince himself that the reason a smile immediately graces his face when he enters his department's library is because of his love for knowledge. That's it. That's all.

It definitely has nothing to do with getting the opportunity to see and talk to the very attractive head librarian. Nope. Nothing of the sort.

"What's got you all smiley? Found a new favourite philosophy journal?"

Namjoon studiously ignores the way his heart stutters in his chest. He turns around to face you directly and is once again caught off-guard at how ridiculously attractive you manage to look in a simple pencil skirt and flowy blouse. Your glasses framing your warm eyes, and your glossed lips quirked upwards in amusement.

God, he had it so bad.

"Am I not allowed to simply smile for the sake of smiling?" He asks with a grin of his own, the two of you seamlessly falling into step as you make your way to your office where he was initially headed.

"Answering a question with a question is deflection, Professor Kim," you respond with a good-natured poke to his arm. He jokingly rubs the spot, "Violence and referring to me as Professor Kim? Y/n I thought we were friends. I'm hurt."

He doesn't miss the way you roll your eyes with that unfairly pretty smile on your face as you hold your office door open for him, "I never took you to be one for dramatics, Namjoon."

Namjoon feels little better than a schoolboy with his first crush. Warmth flooding his face at the way you say his name. He just hopes his body wouldn't hate him enough to make his blush obvious or, you'd give him the curtsey of not mentioning it.

"Clearly you don't know me all that well then, Miss y/l/n. Seems like all this hiding out in each others' offices might've been for nothing," he retorts, making himself comfortable on the lounge chair by the window you'd both unofficially agreed upon was his. He tries not to think too deeply about that.

Typically you'd join him by the window, but you opt to prop yourself up on your desk, and Namjoon's tongue turns to sand in his mouth. Your already figure-hugging skirt sits tighter on your hips and thighs somehow, even riding up enough for Namjoon to feel the need to take a generous sip from his trusted water bottle.

"Wow really? My surname? Now you're being petty, Joon," you say before taking your first bite of your lunch.

It had become a habit for the two of you to meet for lunch whenever possible. Usually alternating between offices or whoever was closer to the other's side of the campus on a particular day. Namjoon thinks it's partly during these lunch sessions that the seeds of his feelings for you were planted. Though he hasn't quite decided how to unpack that can of worms yet, he wouldn't trade these moments with you for the world.

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Namjoon can't stand these end of year functions, but he attends because he knows it'd be a terrible look if he didn't. He does have other people in the department he's friendly with, but they definitely don't outweigh how tedious these functions can be.

He's standing somewhat awkwardly in the back of the room nursing a glass of juice (because of fucking course they wouldn't be serving any alcohol) when he first spots you. Namjoon knows you're beautiful. It's a fact that he's violently reminded of every time he sees you. However, he's never seen you like this. He thought your pencil skirts were form-fitting, but the way the red dress you're wearing now cups your ass and hugs your hips has the blood rushing to his dick at record-breaking speed. He's never seen so much of you at once, a hint of cleavage peaking out and the dress coming to a stop mid-thigh. To make it all worse (or better, depending on one's perspective), you're still wearing your glasses.

Namjoon is just happy he hasn't spontaneously combusted yet, honestly.

The bright smile that spreads across your face when you spot him and make your way over to him makes him feel more nervous than he has in ages. Which is saying something considering how tongue-tied he gets around you in general.

"Joon, thank god. I'm so happy you're here. These functions are always so boring," you say as you pull him into a hug. Instinctively, he wraps an arm around you, his body moving before his brain can fully process you pressed against him and your perfume invading his senses. God, you smell delicious.

"I'm glad to see you too. Yeah, I've been entertaining myself with a glass of juice for the past 30ish minutes. Having the time of my life," he responds sarcastically but makes sure he's not loud enough for anyone to hear him other than you. These functions may suck, but Namjoon has no desire to sour his relationships with his colleagues.

The mischievous smile that graces your face makes his palms sweat, "Want to get out of here? I have a bottle of wine I've been saving in my office."

"Wine in your office? That's pretty unprofessional of you, Miss Librarian," he responds with a grin.

"Well, I've been keeping it for a time like this. Unless you're content to sip on juice all night and make small talk about semester plans," you retort, mirth twinkling in your eyes.

"It has been almost 2 hours, so it wouldn't be a bad look if we excused ourselves now..." he reasons, and honestly he could use a drink right now.

"Glad to see you're on board. You're always so serious and responsible, I'm a little surprised you agreed," you say with a small snort, grabbing his arm and steering him towards the door.

You two say goodnight to everyone who crosses your path, and Namjoon resists the urge to roll his eyes at the grins and thumbs ups that Hoseok and Seokjin give him.

"I'm not that uptight," he argues a little defensively when you two are finally by yourselves.

"There's nothing wrong with being responsible. It's a big reason why I think you're such a loved and respected professor. I just think you could stand to let go sometimes," you say and, Namjoon's heart is trying its best to beat out of his chest.

You think he's loved and respected? You think he's a good professor?

He knows he doesn't need your validation, but it means the world to him all the same. The genuine sincerity and concern in your voice making it challenging for him to find his words.

"I plan to let go a little tonight. I think you're a bad influence," he jokes, playfully shoving you with his arm.

"I'm a fantastic influence. That's why you spend so much time with me," you retort with another one of those cute, amused snorts. Unlocking the door to the library when you two arrive quicker than Namjoon expected.

"I spend so much time with you because Hoseok's unending optimism and positivity drains my energy," he fires back, closing the door behind him once you enter the library before him.

"Hoseok's a sweetheart. You're just grumpy and overly jaded," you respond, leading the way to your office.

He tries not to feel too jealous hearing you refer to Hoseok as a sweetheart. You're not wrong. It's fair to refer to him as such, but it's still not exactly pleasant to hear.

"Me? Grumpy? Overly jaded? I'm delightful!" He says in mock offence, settling himself in his chair and watching you pull out the bottle of wine and two coffee mugs. Biting back a groan when he takes in how amazingly your dress hugs your ass.

"I never said you weren't delightful. I wouldn't be offering my treasured wine stash to you if I didn't at the bare minimum like you," you argue with a light laugh as you fill up your respective mugs.

"You just used the wine to bribe me to sneak out with you. I'm flattered nonetheless," he says with a laugh of his own, graciously accepting the generously filled mug you offer. He's severely unprepared for you to take a seat on the arm of his chair, your thigh brushing against him as you get comfortable.

Namjoon is starting to think this isn't a smart idea after all.

"Have you spending time with Seokjin? Is that why you've been so theatrical lately?" You ask with a smile before taking a generous sip from your mug, your pleased hum affecting him more than it had any right to.

"I'm just seeing this for what it is," he says, taking a swing from his own mug. Sweet. Seems like you enjoy your rosé. He makes a note of that for any future gifts.

"Sure, Joon," you respond, patting his shoulder. Taking another sip from your glass, licking your lips to chase the remnants of the wine. The wine is only worsening the hazy sensation he feels seeing the action and the slight smudging of your lipstick.

"Your lipstick looks nice," he spits out and immediately cringes at himself. Resisting the urge to rest his face in his hands as warmth floods his face. What the fuck was wrong with him? Surely it wasn't the singular sip of wine he took.

"Oh," you say, sounding surprised, "Thank you. You know I'm not one for make-up, but I thought why not since it's a special occasion. I'm glad you like it. I didn't take you for one to notice," you finish, playfully nudging his arm with your thigh.

Namjoon takes a generous sip of his wine before responding.

"I always notice these kinds of things when it comes to you and, you look pretty," he says before panicking at the implications of his words, "Not that you don't look pretty without the lipstick. You look pretty all the time. It's just-"

"I got it, Joon," you laugh, taking a drink from your own mug, and Namjoon definitely doesn't notice how appealing your neck looks. He needs to get his shit together. He's too old to be this flustered talking to a pretty woman. Well, you're more than just that, but that's besides the point.

"I'm flattered that you think I'm pretty. I didn't know you thought of me that way," you say so quietly that Namjoon has to strain to hear you. You look almost...shy? Completely unlike the sarcastic, confident woman he's become familiar with. It's cute. You're cute.

"I think you're beautiful honestly but, it's not exactly like I can just drop it in casual conversation," he says, surprised by his own confidence but, he's already called you pretty. What more does he have to lose?

"Kim Namjoon, are you flirting with me?" You ask with a smile behind your mug, but he can still see what he thinks is shyness in your expression.

"Is it so bad to flirt with the prettiest librarian on campus?" He asks, taking satisfaction in the stunned look on your face, your lips parting as you sit there just staring at him.

He watches you flounder with your words, a very private part of him enjoying being the one to fluster you for once.

"You think I'm the prettiest librarian on campus?" You ask quietly, as if you can't quite believe what's he saying to you right now. In your defence, he can't quite believe what he's saying to you right now either. He has the feeling that he's reached a crossroads now. Whatever he says to you now might change the nature of your relationship entirely, and Namjoon is tired of being a coward.

"I think you're the prettiest librarian I've ever met," he says with so much seriousness that there's no possible way you could misunderstand his words for lighthearted bantering. His heart bouncing off the walls of his chest as he waits for you to say something. Anything.

"Namjoon," is all you seem to muster at the moment, wide eyes still locked on him.

"You don't have to reciprocate my feelings, y/n. I've liked you for some time now, but I'd never put my feelings before yours and before this friendship. You mean too much for me to do that. I'm so sorry if I made you uncomfortable -" you promptly shut Namjoon up by cupping his face and pressing a searing kiss to his lips.

Well, it seems like it's his turn to be stunned.

His eyes widen as you seemingly pour everything you have into his kiss, your hold on his face tightening momentarily before you pull away. All Namjoon can do is stare at you. Looking unfairly attractive as you struggle to catch your breath and your glasses look slightly askew.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just kissed you. I just-I couldn't find the words to tell you that I like you too in the moment. I'm sorry," you say in a single breath, and Namjoon has to strain to catch all of your words. However, panic hits him when your words do finally register.

"No, hey, it's okay. I was just surprised, is all. It's not every day the woman of your dreams kisses you. Give a guy a minute to recover," he jokes, reaching for your smaller hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Your hand squeezes his back, and frankly, Namjoon is just impressed that he's managed to remain conscious through this all.

"Woman of your dreams? Namjoon, please," you whine somewhat embarrassed, and that just endears you to him more.

"It's true," he says and means ever word of it.

"If you keep looking at me like that and speaking like that, I might just have to kiss you again," you respond playfully, resting your mug on the small coffee table.

"Is that a promise?" He fires back with a grin of his own, following suit.

"You're so annoying," you retort with an affectionate eye roll before you press your lips against his once more. This time, he's better prepared and more than ready to reciprocate. One of his hands tentatively resting on your thigh as angle yourself better to deepen the kiss. The feeling of your tongue against his own sending sparks down his spine. Arousal pooling in his gut, fed by all the little moans and whimpers you let out.

"Is this okay?" You ask breathlessly when you straddle him, your chair barely big enough to fit the two of you, but Namjoon isn't going to complain any time soon. Your soft thighs press against his and he's almost completely certain that your panty covered pussy is pressing against him.

"Yeah," his brain pulls itself together enough to spit out before weaving his fingers into your hair and, tugging you down for another earth-shattering kiss. Months' worth of desire and frustration pouring out of him. His other hand tentatively holding your hip in place all while he hopes his erection isn't too obvious to you.

He can tell the moment you feel it because you still against him momentarily. "Shit, I'm sorry. We don't have to do anything you don't want. It's just a natural reaction-"

"Joon, breathe. It's okay," you giggle, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I want this. I'm just as excited as you are," you breathe, taking his much bigger hand in yours and guiding it up your ridiculously soft thighs. A quiet moan falling from your lips when his fingertips make contact with your wet panties.

Namjoon wonders what heroic acts he committed in his past lives to find himself here.

"You're already so wet," he breathes, fingers lightly running along your slit. Lidded eyes taking in the way your lips part to let out moans and your hips buck into his touch. Your fingernails digging into his shoulder when he's certain he's found your clit and uses that information to his advantage.

"You don't have to ah say that out loud, y'know," you respond, but any sarcasm that would typically be present in your voice is replaced by breathy whimpers. Namjoon thinks he much prefers them. As much as your quick-wit is one of his favourite aspects of your personality, he's finding that he immensely enjoys rendering you speechless.

"Why not, baby? You are so wet for me already, though. I could always stop," he trails off, stopping the movement of his fingers and keeping them pressed against you. A smirk spreading across his face when you whine and squirm in his lap.

"You're being mean," and fuck if the desperate edge to your voice doesn't shoot straight to his dick. Deciding to be merciful this time around, his fingers continue rubbing over your wet slit over your panties. Kissing along your jaw and neck as you whimper and grind against him in search of friction.

"Joon, please. Touch me di-directly," you hiccup, pressing yourself firmly against his fingers. Your nails digging into his shoulders. He had no idea you'd be so needy and desperate. He briefly wonders if you're always like this or if this is all because of him. His self-esteem certainly hopes it's the latter.

"You're so cute when you're needy," he rumbles against your throat, canines brushing the skin there while his fingers push your panties to the side. He thinks he'll remember the strangled gasp that flies from your lips when his fingers make contact with your clit as long as he lives.

He knew you were wet before, but he's severely unprepared for the effect feeling said wetness for himself has on him. His cock already leaking pre-cum where it rests untouched underneath you. Teasing you is a double-edged sword. You're not the only one becoming desperate here.

"Namjoon," you whine, "Please, please let me feel your fingers. It hurts. Please-" your begging is cut off by a sharp moan when he finally concedes and pushes two fingers inside of you. How can he say no when you sound so beautiful for him? He's just a man.

He tugs you into another messy kiss while he fucks you on his fingers to distract himself. He feels like he'll lose his mind soon if he doesn't feel you around his cock soon. Groaning into your mouth at how harshly your velvety walls grip his fingers as he familiarises himself with the spots that make you moan louder and hold onto him tighter.

The whimper you press against his lips when his thumb finds your clit and rubs slow circles against it is immaculate. In the dead of night when he'd fantasised about having you like this, he hadn't considered how sensitive and pliant you are. Reality is significantly better than any of his dreams.

"Joo-Joon, I- ah I'm," you whine out, your glasses slightly skewed and foggy on your face while you ride his fingers and chase your release. Namjoon doesn't think he's seen anything more erotic in his entire life.

"Are you going to cum for me?" The gruff edge to his voice or perhaps the question seems to do it for you because before he knows it you're holding onto to him for dear life and he has to slot his mouth over yours to silence your suddenly sharp cries. His cock pulsing as he feels your walls hold onto his fingers so tightly that he can barely move them anymore and, your wetness drips down his palm.

"That's a good girl. You did so well for me," he says, kissing your neck and shoulder softly as he waits for you to come back to him. He takes notice of the way your walls momentarily clench from what he assumes is the praise. Well. He'd happily give you all the praise you wanted.

"You're ridiculously good with your fingers," you mutter, cupping his face and kissing him as though you have all the time in the world. Something dangerously close to love for you swells in him from the affection you pour into the kiss. You rest your forehead against his when you pull away, a small smile playing on your bruised lips.

"Thank you," is all his brain can come with right now with his fingers still nestled inside of you and being harder than he ever has been in his entire life.

"Would it be okay if I sucked you off?"

You're trying to kill him. This is what this is. An elaborate plot to end his life in an instant.

His cock very much likes the sound of that, however.

"You don't have to do that,"

"I know. I want to,"

He closes his eyes and tries to gain his bearings for a few seconds.

"Maybe next time. I don't want to cum in your mouth right now,"

The pout on your lips is surprising and unfairly attractive, "Why not?"

You really were going to make him spell it out for you, aren't you?

"I'd rather cum while I'm inside of you,"

His jaw clenches when he feels your walls clamp down on his fingers once more, a barely there whimper falling from your lips, "Kim Namjoon, you're going to be the death of me."

Funny you should say that because the feeling is mutual.

He does laugh at that. Pressing a kiss against your cheek, "And you think I'm dramatic. We can just stop here if you don't want to. Plus, I don't have any condoms on hand. I wasn't exactly...anticipating all of this."

"What in the world would make you think I'd want to stop now?" You ask, sounding genuinely baffled, "And on the topic of birth control, I'm on the pill."

His eyes close then, and he can't bite back a groan. You would really let him fuck you raw? He's not sure if you're insane for suggesting it or if he's insane for seriously considering it.

"If you're not comfortable with that we can just stop here. I'm not in a rush," you reassure him, pressing a soft kiss to his temple and it's then that Namjoon thinks he may lose his mind if he doesn't have you right now.

Without a word, he pulls you into another earth titling kiss, grinning against your mouth when you grip his fingers like a vice when he tugs on your hair and nips your lip. "You really don't know what you do to me," he breathes, easing his fingers out of you and chuckling darkly at the way you whimper from the loss. He might be pushing his luck here, but "Open."

He watches through lidded eyes as you eagerly suck on his fingers coated in your wetness. Your lashes fluttering behind your glasses and, your soaked slit grinding down on him in search of some sort of friction. "Such a good girl," he praises, kissing you while his hands fumble with his belt and the buttons of his pants. Relief coursing through him when manages to finally free himself. His cock slapping against his shirt covered stomach unceremoniously.

Your reaction to seeing him does fantastic things for his ego.

"You're...bigger than I anticipated," you breathe out, your eyes laser focused on his dick while your hands absentmindedly tug on his hair. "You thought about my dick? I'm flattered," he says with a smirk likely a touch too smug but, he can't help it. It's not every day the woman of your dreams casually mentions that she's fantasised about you and you have her spread out across your lap.

"I've thought about more than your dick but, it's featured in a fantasy or two," you laugh breathlessly, squirming in his lap.

"Well, I shouldn't keep you waiting any longer then,"

When you slowly start to sink down on him, Namjoon knows he's a goner. His hands grip your soft hips for dear life as your warm, wet walls gradually accommodate him inch by inch. He's not sure where he wants to look more. Your pretty pussy stretching around him or the blissed out look on your beautiful face right now.

His hand impatiently tugs your dress down and he takes a hard nipple in his mouth both to distract you from the discomfort and, for the simple want to. His head spins when your pussy clenches around him at the contact. Needy hands tugging on his hair while you moan from the sensations.

"Nam-Namjoon," you moan out so brokenly and, he's pretty sure he's never heard a more beautiful sound. He might be inlove with you actually but, he shoves that thought aside as soon as it arises.

He grits his teeth when you slowly rise up and sink back down on him again, your nails biting into him as you try your best to establish a steady rhythm. "You're so beautiful," he groans as he watches you bounce on his cock. He didn't intend for that thought to slip out but, he doesn't regret in the slightest when he watches your eyelids flutter and your pussy tightens around him.

You can't even coherently respond to him. Too lost in your own pleasure and the feeling of his cock to string together a sentence at the moment. Not that Namjoon can really blame you. Your walls are like a vice around him, and he feels his release approaching dangerously quickly. There's no way he's going to cum without atleast getting you to cum for him one more time.

One of his hands tugs on your hair to pull you down for another heated kiss. All teeth and tongue and spit. While the other reaches between your thighs, the corners of his mouth ticking up when you gasp against him as his fingers draw quick circles on your clit. Thankfully, he's a fast learner.

He nearly bites down on your lip when you cum. Velvety walls clenching and spasming around him while you cling onto him for purchase. I mean, is it really a shock that it doesn't take much more than that for him to follow suit?

Groans and stuttered curses leaving his lips when pulses inside of you. The symphony of your sounds of pleasure and heavy breathing all that can be heard as he fills you. Holding you to him while he rides out his intense release. He doesn't think he's ever cum this hard in his entire life. Guess that's what happens when you cum inside the love of your life.

Pushing that insane thought aside once more, he loosens his hold on you when he regains feeling in his body. The sticky combination of your releases dribbling out of you and down his groin but, he can't bring himself to care at the moment.

"Usually, people go on dates first, no?" You ask still sounding breathlessly but, he can hear the smile in your tone.

"Mmm yeah, usually they do but, I don't think there's anything wrong with doing things a little out of order,"

"You're not wrong. I hope you know this is my roundabout way of asking you out,"

The laugh that forces itself out of him is hearty and more carefree than he's felt in a concerningly long time.

"I'd love to go out with you, y/n."

#kim namjoon smut #namjoon smut #rm smut #bts smut

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a-little-unsteddie · 4 months

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stuck in your throat || 1.5

1.1 | 1.2 | 1.3 | 1.4 | [here]

ahhh!! the final part of chapter one! hope the wait was worth it <3 i’ll be posting the full chapter on ao3 tonight, so look out for a post with that link! i’ll also start a master post that i’ll pin to the top of my blog later. eventually. it’s on my to-do list.

i’ll start posting chapter 2 sometime in jan/feb, depending on when i fjnish writing chapter 3, which i’m about a third done with!

happy christmas! i hope everyone enjoys the final part to chapter one!

Steve hadn’t received a response from Eddie, but he wasn’t really expecting one anyway. He sipped his chai and checked the time every minute or so, and even though it felt like he’d been waiting for ages, only a few minutes had passed when a man walked into the café. He had long, dark curly hair, that was in a messy bun. He was wearing a grey band shirt with ripped black skinny jeans and chains hanging off of them. He appeared to be holding the hand of a little girl who had a mane of wild curls that were a few shades lighter than her dads. She was wearing a purple dress and a poofy blue jacket that appeared to do nothing to slow her down as she seemed to move even as her dad ordered.

Steve couldn’t stop the smile that formed at the sight, but assumed that this wasn’t who he was waiting for. He didn’t think his client would bring his pup with him to the interview. He found no harm in watching them for a bit while he waited for Eddie to show up.

After the man placed the order, he turned to look directly at Steve, who flushed in embarrassment at being caught looking and ducked his head. Which meant he didn’t see the man approach with his daughter in tow, but he did smell him, a sweet, musky scent filled his nose as the alpha approached, it reminded him of the forest. He lost himself in it for a moment before subtly shaking his head to clear it. He looked up with wide eyes as the man stopped at his table, hazel eyes meeting brown.

“Steve?” The alpha—Eddie?—asked, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Steve blinked as he took in the sight of the man, trying to figure out where he knew him from. He looked familiar, but he couldn’t pinpoint why. He was sure he would have remembered meeting an alpha this handsome.

“Huh? Oh, yes, sorry,” Steve stammered, cheeks suddenly flushed. He stood abruptly to properly greet the alpha, “That’s, um, I’m Steve.” he thrust his hand out to shake Eddie’s, who took it and shook firmly. Steve ignored the way his stomach swooped at the firm grip the alpha had.

“..I’m Eddie,” he responded, and opened his mouth to say something else but a small voice interrupted them.

“I’m Elodie!” the pup said cheerfully, trying to replicate the action of shaking Steve’s hand. He was immediately enamored with Elodie and allowed her to shake his hand.

“It is so nice to meet you, Miss Elodie.” he said sincerely, grinning as she giggled in response. The three of them quickly sat, with Eddie and Elodie on one side, and Steve on the other.

Steve wasn’t sure where to start, now that he knew they were going to be joined with the pup he would be taking care of if he was chosen. To be fair, he probably wouldn’t have known where to start even if she hadn’t joined them.

Elodie seemed to be taking this seriously, sitting next to her father with her hands together on the table. She had taken out a notepad and had it opened to a blank page with her colored pencil next to it. She looked like she was trying hard to look stern, and failed miserably at it, which was just an adorable sight. Beside her, Eddie looked uncomfortable but still polite. Elodie also seemed to not have the same problem as the adults, immediately launching into questioning.

“Will you take me to the park?”

Steve glanced at Eddie, who looked fondly exasperated the moment Elodie started talking, so Steve figured it wouldn’t hurt to answer her question.

“If your dad is okay with it, sure,” he agreed easily, trying not to show his amusement in his tone, but sure his scent was giving it away as it sweetened. He was glad that pups didn’t fully develope their understanding of the different scents until they were a bit older than Elodie.

Elodie nodded firmly, writing it down on her little notepad, which upon closer inspection, Steve noticed had stickers of what appeared to be dragons and unicorns decorating it.

Eddie seemed content to let her do her questioning, sitting back and watching the pair. Steve wondered if this was the interview, to see how he and Elodie got along.

“Will you give me treats?” was the next question that Elodie had for him.

Steve leaned forward to stage whisper to her, “Only every day,” as if it were a secret. She brightened at that answer, giggling. Steve tried not to wince as her feet kicked into his shins, hiding it with a grin.

Elodie looked up at her dad, “Alright. I think we have a winner.” she said firmly, and Steve couldn’t withhold a grin from taking over his face, just barely holding back a laugh. She had all of two questions for him, neither of which were entirely surprising for a pup to ask.

Eddie rolled his eyes fondly at her, patting her head, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Odie?” Elodie nodded rapidly, eyes wide and begging. “Let me ask him some questions, and I’ll take your vote into consideration. Sound good?” Elodie looked like a bobble head as she nodded wildly again.

“Okay! Can I go play now?” she asked, looking out the window where there was a park across the street.

Eddie looked as though he was about to say no, so Steve took it upon himself to try to convince the alpha.

“There are picnic tables on the far side, you can’t see them from here, but we could sit at one of them and keep an eye on her,” Steve offered, Eddie’s gaze snapped over to him in surprise.

Elodie looked at her father with wide brown eyes, lip jutting out in a pout. “Please?” she asked, stretching the word out until Eddie heaved a sigh.

“Alright, let’s go,” he gave in, standing from the table. Steve’s cheeks hurt from how much he was smiling from this little encounter, and stood to follow them out. Elodie immediately held her dad’s hand, and reached a hand out to Steve to hold one of his as well. Steve glanced nervously at the alpha, but allowed her to take his hand, too.

“Bye, Steve!” Will called as they walked to the door and Steve knew he’d be receiving a load of texts from the other pups he used to babysit about this.

“See you later, Will,” Steve called back, bracing himself against the chilly air as they stepped outside. Almost immediately, Elodie tried to race ahead of the pair, but instinctually, Steve tightened his hold, as Eddie lightly scolded her.

“Elodie Mae, you know you have to hold my hand to cross the street,” he said, frowning at the pup. Elodie pouted, but held their hands and walked with them across the street to the park.

Once they were safely across, Elodie took off towards the park while Steve led Eddie to the picnic benches on the far side. Steve nervously glanced at the alpha, trying to figure out how he was doing so far. He seemed relaxed, but wary of their surroundings, glancing around them frequently, as if nervous to be seen. Steve felt his hackles rise, and furrowed his eyebrows. Could the alpha be embarrassed to be seen with him? Surely not, Chrissy wouldn’t have let him move forward to this stage of the hiring process if Eddie wasn’t going to at least consider him for the job.

“Here are the picnic tables,” Steve said needlessly as a way to fill the silence that had grown between them.

Eddie hummed in response and sat at one of them, and Steve followed his lead, sitting across from him. The picnic table was positioned perpendicular to the park, so Steve sat straddling the bench to keep an eye on Elodie. He may not have been hired yet, so he still wanted to prove that he was capable of the job.

Eddie was silent for a while, but eventually he seemed to figure out what exactly he wanted to say. “This wasn’t my idea,” he started, watching as Elodie ran up to another kid playing at the park.

“I figured not,” Steve admitted, smiling as the two pups ran off together to play.

“But Chrissy is right,” he continued, looking at Steve, “being on tour is a lot and watching an eight year old while performing is pretty much impossible. So, I had two options: leave her at home with a nanny, or bring her with and hire a traveling nanny.”

Suddenly the reason why Eddie seemed so familiar became abundantly clear, he was Eddie Munson. Rockstar, Eddie Munson. Corroded Coffin lead singer, Eddie Munson. Heart-throb alpha, Eddie Munson.

Steve tried to grapple with this revelation silently, hoping that Eddie wouldn’t notice as he didn’t want the musician to think that Steve was being unprofessional. It was fine, really, it just wasn’t something that Steve had been expecting, is all. He wasn’t even a fan of the music, but he knew that Dustin and his friends—including Will—were massive fans. He was glad that Will didn’t flip out when they were in the coffee shop.

“That would be a lot on anyone’s plate,” he finally said, once he was sure his voice wasn’t going to give away his realization. “And I would be more than happy to take some off of it. I’ve already started planning some classwork, actually,” he admitted shyly.

Eddie looked at him in surprise, but it didn’t seem like a bad reaction, so Steve considered it a win.

“Really?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “Even though you weren’t guaranteed the job yet?”

“I was stressing about today, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to be prepared,” Steve shrugged, not looking at the alpha, instead watching as Elodie and the other pup raced from the monkey bars to the swings.

“That’s impressive,” Eddie told him, and when Steve looked at him, he was smiling tentatively.

Steve scoffed slightly, brushing off the compliment. “Even if I don’t get the job,” he felt a pang of sadness hit him at the thought, “it’s still good practice.”

“Oh, you have the job,” Eddie said nonchalantly, so much so that Steve didn’t process the words for a second.

“I do?” he asked, whipping his head to look at Eddie so abruptly that he felt his neck crack once.

“Yeah, Elodie got the final say,” he smiled vaguely in the direction of where Steve knew Elodie and her new friend were playing.

Chrissy’s earlier amusement about not making the choice of candidate made sense, now.

“Thank you,” Steve said, unsure if that was the right response, but not knowing how else to express his gratitude about being hired.

Eddie smiled vaguely at Steve, shrugging slightly. “As long as she didn’t choose an obvious asshole, I’m more than happy to hire whoever she wants. Means she’s gonna be more likely to listen to you.”

Steve nodded, “That…makes a lot of sense, actually,” he said softly.

“I’ll get Chrissy to email you the official offer, and whatever else needs to be sent,” he hummed, smiling at him.

“I look forward to it,” Steve said honestly, already looking forward to telling Robin that he got the job. He thought of the NDA, and wilted slightly. He wasn’t sure how much he was allowed to actually share with her about the job. He knew he’d be able to tell her that he <i>got</i> the job at least, but not much more than that. Maybe he’d ask Chrissy if they were hiring for something else, because like hell he’d be sued for talking to his best friend.

The pair spent another two hours or so watching Elodie run around and play, but eventually they had to leave.

“Bye, Miss Elodie,” the omega said, laughing as the pup hugged him tightly.

“Bye, Mister Steve,” Elodie mumbled into his sternum before she pulled away and took Eddie’s hand.

“Goodbye, Eddie,” Steve said, looking up at the handsome alpha through his eyelashes. Eddie smiled, but it looked tense, and Steve was reminded that this wasn’t Eddie’s idea. In fact, he seemed to be mildly against the whole affair.

After they said their goodbyes, Steve watched Eddie and Elodie get into a black car with tinted windows, and watched as it disappeared around a corner before he started the longish walk home, feeling a pep in his step as he did.

if you want to be added to the tag list, confirm your age in your request. if you want to be removed, let me know!

tag list: @marklee-blackmore @paintsplatteredandimperfect @steddie-as-they-go @disrespectedgoatman @lingeringmirth @hyperfixated-on-stuff @swimmingbirdrunningrock @littlewildflowerkitten @sani-86 @thegingerrapunzel @adventures-in-mangaland @missingmalfoy1 @yellowdevilkitten @extra-transitional @queen-stevie @stevesbipanic @crypticcorvidinacottage @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @eyehartart

#eeeeeep #the long awaited meeting #i swear they get better next chapter djshdhsha #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #eventual steddie #steve x eddie #alpha!eddie munson #omega!steve harrington #rockstar!eddie munson #single dad!eddie munson #nanny!steve harrington #tw omegaverse #cw omegaverse #unsteddie writing #stuck in your throat #siyt 🎤

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yasu--blog · 5 months

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Enhypen's reaction when you randomly start speaking gibberish

Genre: Fluff

pairing: bf!Enhypen x reader

A/N: This is my first time writing Enhypen reactions, so I hope it's not too bad (ᴖ ᴑ ᴖ) ❣

Disclaimer: None of the images or gifs used in this post belong to me. All credits go to their respective creators. If you are the creator and wish for proper credit or removal, please contact me. Your work is valued and acknowledged.

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

✎ｈｅｅｓｅｕｎｇ

Heeseung would blink at you, his eyes widening in mild confusion. "Wait, what did you just say?" He'd tilt his head, trying to decode the gibberish you just spouted. Once he realizes you're just speaking nonsense, he'd chuckle and play along, responding with his own playful gibberish, creating a silly and lighthearted moment between you two.

✎ｊａｙ

Jay would give you a quizzical look, his eyebrows furrowed in amusement. "Are you speaking a secret language, or did I miss something?" he'd ask, a playful grin on his face. Expecting a reasonable answer, he'd be surprised when you continue with more nonsensical words. He'd burst into laughter, finding your random gibberish both amusing and endearing.

✎ ｊａｋｅ

Jake would raise an eyebrow, looking at you with a mix of amusement and curiosity. "What language is that?" he'd ask, trying to follow along. When he realizes it's just gibberish, he'd join in, creating a playful exchange of nonsensical sounds. Jake's competitive side might come out as he tries to outdo your random babbling with his own goofy version.

✎ ｓｕｎｇｈｏｏｎ

Sunghoon would give you a deadpan stare, trying to make sense of what you just said. "Did I miss something in our conversation?" he'd ask, looking genuinely puzzled. When he realizes you're just being silly, he'd crack a small smile and respond with his own brand of playful gibberish, enjoying the lighthearted silliness.

✎ ｓｕｎｏｏ

Sunoo would react with pure delight. "Oh, are we speaking in a secret code now?" he'd playfully inquire, his eyes sparkling with amusement. Sunoo would happily engage in the nonsensical banter, creating a back-and-forth of goofy sounds and imaginary language. Your random gibberish would turn into a playful bonding moment for the both of you.

✎ ｊｕｎｇｗｏｎ

Jungwon would squint at you, trying to figure out if there's some hidden meaning behind the gibberish. "Is this a secret message, or did I miss something important?" he'd ask with a slightly serious tone. Once he realizes it's just for fun, he'd break into a smile and respond playfully, turning the random babbling into a shared inside joke.

✎ ｎｉｋｉ

Niki would react with a mix of confusion and amusement. "What language is that? Did I forget my Korean again?" he'd say, pretending to be genuinely puzzled. As you continue your gibberish, Niki would catch on and respond quickly, turning the moment into a goofy and enjoyable exchange of playful nonsense.

Note: Please refrain from reposting my work. If you appreciate it and would like to share, kindly link directly to the original post. Thank you for respecting the effort and creativity put into this content.

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@heelvsted @okwonyo @heesbaby @srjlvr @ensite @rikislady @rkvriki @hehehehehehehes-world

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aromanticbuck · 18 days

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Tommy was nowhere to be found when Buck was in the gym though. That was 100% about Eddie. As was the Christopher thing because he didn't want to be replaced in Eddie and Christophers lives by anyone, for any length of time. The only time I really felt him trying to get Tommy's attention was their first scene together. But that was purposeful by the writers. They wanted to have it both ways and needed Buck to want both of their attention but have no idea why.

I've sat here for almost a full day wondering how to respond to this, and honestly, I very nearly deleted it without responding because... I barely go here. I just shifted over to 911 as my main fandom. I was a One Chicago blog a little over a week ago and yeah, one well timed rewatch might put me back on that train.

I just came over here because I watched the show, enjoyed it, and wanted to have fun with other fans. My posts are my opinion and my observations, and are obviously not meant to speak for all of canon or even any faction of the fandom besides myself (and maybe Kit, but our opinions vary sometimes too, and we live together). I just pointed out what I noticed, and the trends that I picked up on, and how I thought they were intending to establish Buck wanting Tommy's attention - which, in my opinion, they did really well.

So, I'm just gonna put a screenshot of the post this is referring to right here:

Here's the thing. If you watch every single episode of the show looking for Buddie moments whenever Buck or Eddie is on screen (and I saw a lot of that after last night's episode to the point that I'm getting exhausted and annoyed), then that's all you're going to see, even if that's not what they're trying to show us.

It's been especially bad since 7x04 and the BuckTommy kiss. Everyone is looking at his canon queerness through a Buddie lens and ignoring everything else around it. They're making his coming out to Maddie about Buddie, and they're making his attraction to Tommy about Buddie, they're making episodes we haven't even seen about Buddie.

In reality, none of that is about Buddie or confirming future Buddie or anything of the sort. He and Maddie mentioned Eddie in that scene because the conversation started when he said he felt like he was lying to Eddie and he didn't like it. Yes, Eddie and Tommy are similar, and I understand joking about Buck having A Type, but that doesn't make his attraction to Tommy any less genuine. And we don't know anything about 7x06 yet, but everyone is talking about Buddie getting drunk and sleeping together, or Tommy seeing them interact - as he's already seen because the three of them have had scenes together and he's canonically spent time with Chris - and immediately stepping back from the relationship because there might be something there.

Buck is going to his sister's wedding with Tommy. Buck told Maddie and Eddie about Tommy. Buck wants to dance at the wedding with Tommy. He wants to try for something with Tommy. Eddie encouraged him to go call Tommy and work things out. Buck is going to be out to everyone at the Madney wedding because he wants to be there with Tommy as his date.

I don't know. It's just frustrating to see this really good queer relationship tossed to the side because it's not the Popular Ship. Just because you don't ship it or you aren't looking at it directly, it doesn't mean it's not still there.

#answered #anon #anonymouse #alex says things #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #tommy kinard #kinkley #bucktommy #911 #911 spoilers #maddie buckley #buckley fam #I still want buddie endgame #but i forgot how exhausting big ship fandoms can be

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canmom · 23 days

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reading Brainwyrms by Alison Rumfitt. it's interesting. clearly part of the post-Topside wave of trans lit, with the same 'plugged in to twitter' energy, but way more British about it. which means most of the allusions are very transparent to me. it's a combo of... hardcore kink driven romance as the main arc, in a near-future setting in which TERFism goes further to the point of outright bombings, and a scifi element with alien brain parasites that it's gradually building towards.

compellingly written, I'll give it that for sure - I lay down to read for a bit and before I knew it I'd read like a third of the book. the main character's disaffected, traumatised air is well observed, and the kink doesn't hold back.

I think my reservation with it so far is that it feels a little too much like a polemic blog post about the way things are going. the MC Frankie is a trans woman with a pregnancy kink who survived a bombing at a GIC and now works in social media moderation - it's all stuff that is blatantly Relevant To The Argument, as it were. it's tricky to criticise it for that because it's like, what you're saying is that it's tightly constructed and thematically consistent and that's bad somehow? but I think I've come to feel that I like fiction to bring me something a little new and unfamiliar.

the chapter I most enjoyed so far was actually a more metaphorical, abstract interlude, in which resistance to fascism is cast as becoming 'one mass of queer flesh, which now grabbed and clawed...'; 'faces locked in kisses until they became one face. the cops would try to pull at this mass, but to no avail'. very 'faggots and their friends between revolutions' stuff.

the chapters which are presented directly as social media posts and articles are also sharply observed. i think a lot of fiction in which the internet features heavily suffers from not understanding the internet very well (Hosoda's Belle for example), but for example the chapter 'Curious Cat' where an anonymous person (blatantly Vanya) is sending messages asking for help with a parasite, and getting rebuffed or misunderstood, and the chapter where Frankie relates a murder of an instagram model by a stalker who posts about it to a reddit community devoted to her, read as very real.

a lot of the story is about responding to a terrifying political situation in sexual terms - a flashback chapter depicting Frankie having sex with some terf's pretentious brother ("with each thrust from him, she thought to herself, I am a traitor, I am a traitor to the cause"), or the preface which jokes about how in another world the author would be writing 'cool horror stories about vampires raping werewolves, ones with no subtext at all'. I prevaricate a little on whether this is a compelling examination of a theme that I do find interesting (the mysterious origins of sexual desire) or just edgy for its own sake.

this is an odd novel for me in some ways because while on one level, this is about people who I could very easily be a single degree of separation from were they real, it's also about a facet of life that is still quite alien to me and in many ways I only know about second hand. I've never been to a kink club (that wasn't in an MMO anyway lol), I'm way too much of a nerdy autist shut-in to know what it's like to be someone who would feel put out if she hadn't had sex in a week. so even before the parasite stuff, it's hard to know how much of Frankie and Vanya's stuff is real, and how much is fantasy. is this really how things go between people? it sounds kinda fun, but unlocking the door this far has already taken years.

when I've read books about the crazy lives that American trans girls supposedly live and interesting sex they're apparently having, they've been at a certain remove, the other side of the Atlantic. and this book feels sort of similar, even though I know it's set right on my doorstep. idk, I've never been good at this.

anyway I don't think I want to write fantasy novels so directly about The Discourse of the day, but it's probably good that someone is. that said, it's hard to parse like... ok, it's titled brainwyrms, and 'brain worms' is a common way of describing an obsessive, cultish idea you receive from the internet.

and like if you look at the newspapers, or twitter trans discourse, you certainly could believe that this country is on a rapid slide to putting us in camps. however, my day to day life has been... it's not without hostility, but the average street harasser isn't doing it because of a Guardian or even Mail article. this country has a subculture of deranged weirdos who hate our guts, and a political class who will happily stoke culture war shit to score points, but most normies I've met don't care one way or another that I'm trans - they might mention a family member or friend they know who's also trans. the day to day conflicts are over way more prosaic shit, the landlord vs tenant forever war, or how the kitchen should be cleaned. which of these windows is more informative of the 'overall' state of affairs? not that a more violent terf cult is a bad premise to write a novel around, but a sense of impending doom is a pretty powerful mechanism to keep you scrolling, right?

like in 20, 40 years - will the terfs really be bombing the Tavistock and banning transness, as Rumfitt imagines in her near-future setting preface? or will they go the way of those newspapers in Thatcher's time who smeared the gay movement, just as they smear us today? of passing political obsessions like 'new atheism'? I don't know the half-life of cult shit.

anyway, time to read the rest of the novel, and see how it handles this brew that it's concocted.

#fiction #sff #novels

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goodluckclove · 24 days

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Hey It's Me!

How are you? I've realized that I've taken up a habit of just forcing my way into the inboxes of other writers, so it would probably be helpful if I had a pinned intro.

I'm Clove Gardener! I'm a writer-type! I've written for fifteen years, and in that time I've made novels, produced plays, published short stories, written a column in an online arts website, ghostwritten a bunch of nonsense, and worked as a copywriter for a miserable marketing company. You can say I'm a working writer, and boy business is okay, I guess.

My new job is self publishing, specifically starting with the first book in the Songbird Elegies, coming out this summer. I actually started this blog to market, and to an extent I'm still kind of doing that sometimes. But there's a chance that's now the side-hustle to my true passion of directly befriending and talking with struggling word-handlers (writers) until they are able to properly handle their words (write).

A while back I went as far as to give my real email address to the internet so you can either send me what you're currently writing or like hack my accounts or whatever. If you chose to do the former, I would respond with praise, stray insights, and honest curiosity about your work. Guess what? I'm still doing that. But in the name of maybe not giving too much away, I've changed the email to the very classy [email protected]. If you send your current writing that you need a shot of motivation on, send it there and I will read it with my eyes and heart. I will talk about it more than you are probably prepared to handle.

My inbox is also fully open! If you reblog one of my writing call-out posts and I spot some nonsense about how you don't think you can write or share your writing, I will probably message you and ask why. But if you want to message me directly, skip the small talk and get straight to business. I'm down to party. I'm also down to give insights on what I know of indie/trad publishing, as well as starting a career in professional, non-fiction writing. Both technical and lifestyle! The latter makes much less money than the former, but the former also isn't as boring as you might think!

So yeah - I'm Clover Gardener. Read my books when they come out if you want. Scroll through and you'll find excerpts from what I'm working on. If you draw fanart I will cry and die and pee myself in that order. I love you.

#writing community #writing #on writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #queer writers #actually writing #writers of tumblr #writer community #writers #authors of tumblr

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bengiyo · 10 months

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Why Do I Tag So Many Creators in My Posts? It’s About Respect

Earlier today I was talking with @sophsloveskpop in the notes of a post, and was asked about all of the interaction between blogs in the posts and essays about the shows. I’ve noticed an uptick in new names interacting with posts (and making great posts of their own!) and wanted to talk about why I do it and why I like fandom on Tumblr.

Fundamentally, I think it’s generally good courtesy to acknowledge when someone else has expressed a similar idea to your, or an idea that intrigues you. I think it’s best to tag that person and link to their post so that others can also experience it. It also opens you up to a dialogue with them and others.

People Like Getting Their Flowers

If someone posts an analysis or even a quirky idea that I felt the need to think about, I will mention them in my posts. None of the great content we get on here is necessarily quick to make. I absolutely love all of the gifmakers who fight against Photoshop, Tumblr, and God Himself to post snippets of shows on here for us. I wouldn’t be able to flesh out some of my posts, illustrates points, or otherwise breakup walls of text without @liyazaki, @wanderlust-in-my-soul, @pharawee, or @gabrielokun. Whenever I can’t find the gif I’m looking for through Tumblr’s terrible gif search, I reach out to one of them for permission to use their gifs directly.

Also, many of us just like being acknowledged that someone we wrote meant something to someone else. Every time I get tagged by someone in an essay I’m like:

It’s a Conversation

I don’t think fandom is about being the smartest person or the most correct person. My basic framework I’m writing from is Black Gay Nerd Who Watches a Lot of Stuff. It’s what I’m most familiar with personally, and I find that people have really responded to that.

I’ve been around for a very long time, and have been seeing folks like @so-much-yet-to-learn around the entire time, who often has more specific information about fandom life during the airing of shows. @absolutebl and @heretherebedork have watched more BL than I have, and I’ve seen at least 250 productions. ABL has some of the most comprehensive posts collecting some of the history.

I made so many friends after diving into @shortpplfedup DMs to talk about sustainable urbanism and bonding over our shared geography. Now we run @the-conversation-pod together. Through them I befriended so many others, like @elnotwoods and @kyr-kun-chan.

I’m not a color theory expert, and so I love reading posts from @respectthepetty and others (I think @sliceduplife writes about color too).

We wouldn't even have my favorite show without @isaksbestpillow.

I know what shows are coming because of @clairificusrex.

I don’t know much about music theory, but @iguessitsjustme write some great stuff about the music in these shows.

I don’t always read the body language of hands as closely as someone like @wen-kexing-apologist might.

I am not Asian, and so I like reading from @waitmyturtles, @telomeke-bbs, and @neuroticbookworm. I know that @recentadultburnout and @airenyah offer useful perspective on Thai language.

Sometimes folks are going to narrow down on specific shows and consistently write about them for years on side blogs like @miscellar.

Some people have studied so much and bring specific academic lenses to the genre that I find compelling, like @emotionallychargedtowel.

In many cases, I just vibe with them really hard, like @ginnymoonbeam.

I actually didn’t always post as much as I do, but I try to keep up my Stray Thoughts project so that people can keep track of what I’m watching. I used to write less meta, but then I befriended @waitmyturtles and @lurkingshan. Any time I say anything remotely thoughtful Shan is like:

Also, though, this is Tumblr! It’s easy to tag each other and link to each other’s posts! This is what makes us different from every

Isn’t It Just More Fun?

I don’t enjoy shows passively. I grew up in a family that watched things together. My mom, dad, sister, and I all have differing tastes from each other, but we watched a lot of different things together. My friends and I discussed the things we watched at school.

I’m a big fan of the water cooler approach to TV show distribution, which basically says you want your show to be the show people are talking about on their breaks at work. I always like Film Crit Hulk’s theory that movies (and our dramas) are the proverbial campfires around which we gather to share ourselves with each other.

This is all supposed to be fun, and I have more fun when we interact. I get tagged daily by @blmpff about updates from sets, or when we all need to rush to IG to make sure Fluke Pongsakorn doesn’t cut his hair. When @bl-bam-beyond makes a new set or post they let me know, and they recently rewatched Noah’s Arc! I made friends with @gillianthecat in the last year or so, and it’s been fun seeing her make her way through fandom. I always get excited with @troubled-mind pings me in a post because I know it’s going to give me something to chew on. I didn’t have a genuine appreciation for kink culture until I watched along with @lutawolf. If something funny is happening in fandom I know @benkaaoi is going to tag me. I still get excited when @heukheuk pops up in my mentions.

I know I’ve probably forgotten so many people alone the way here, and I’m sorry if I didn’t mention you.

Tag Because It’s the Right Thing to Do

So seriously, tag people and link to their posts. Try to use the giffmakers specific tags when you’re using the search feature. Fandom is better when we all interact respectfully and enthusiastically with each other. Tumblr is special because it lets us create goofy little essays like this and tag dozens of people just to get their attention.

If you have a cool thought about a show I’m watching, tag me. If you see something funny, tag me in the comments. If you wanna hash out an idea before posting it, DM me. This is Tumblr. Don’t be shy with your thoughts. It’s okay to be wrong on the internet. It’s actually fun to be wrong on the internet about show predictions!

Thank you as always for coming to my post.

#Ben writes #fandom life #tumblr life

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unparalleled-delusion · 1 year

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Pardon the burner account, but I refuse to do this from my main as to avoid actual harassment from the gaggle of individuals participating in this nonsense.

The Situation.

@hlghlycorroslve , @catfire13, and co. have been childishly publicly vaguing and hounding @lyss-butterscotch for a "stolen Unparalelled Innocence design." After claiming they "attempted to resolve this privately" they took to making a public callout post, linked here.

I'd like to also preface this with the statement that I don't know Lyss. I don't even follow her. I am not her friend, or her, doing this. I am also not associated with anyone who has made any public comments about this situation. Do not implicate ANYONE in the name of this blog. I am someone who has seen your actions from afar and found you rude, alienating, and overall just bizarre.

The Design.

Everything about these two designs are almost entirely different. Yes, they both wear ponchos. But when half of the iterator population wears ponchos, you cannot act like you're entitled to your design wearing a poncho. Especially when they have significant design differences, and the entirety of the rest of the outfits are completely and wildly different. Yes, Hicor originally made their UI purple long before the concept of purple UI became dubiously canon, but even the concept of a pale purple belonging to Hicor and Hicor ONLY is just not true.

The concept that Lyss stole Hicor's color palette also just doesn't hold true. Yes, they are similar by virtue of both being purple, but again, purple UI is especially not exclusive to any one person after Downpour.

Lyss commonly uses desaturated and/or pastel colors for her designs. It makes complete and total sense for Lyss to have desaturated the bright neon purple on the new overseer to match the rest of her designs palettes.

Admittedly, the antennae are the only part of this argument that holds any weight. Yes, they share similarities, like the fact that they both have three points. That is about where the similarities end. The silhouette, color, and everything about the antennae is completely different. The only thing they share is that there is 3 of them. This argument completely loses all of its weight when you put these two designs side by side and realize just how actually different they are. There are more differences between both designs than similarities.

Rain World is a very art oriented game and community. Especially when it comes to a character with no canon defining characteristics, it's normal and common that artists are going to find inspiration in their fellow peers. Inspiration is not a crime. The inspiration is derivative enough that it's not theft. None of this is theft.

The Conversation + Posts.

In the callout post, catfire13 shares screenshots from their private messages with Lyss concerning the situation. After approaching the situation by immediately claiming that Lyss was stealing someone's design, catfire is still intentionally vague about the entire situation even when trying to directly communicate with Lyss. Previously, catfire and co. had spent the past day making vague posts about Lyss, spam-reblogging them, and going into a popular Rain World fan-community server to vague and badmouth Lyss even before having contacted her.

(Although this is a public server, I am censoring those responding to catfire unless they are directly involved in this situation. There is no reason to include these people by name in this conversation.)

Catfire also made a post about this situation on their OC sideblog about the situation BEFORE they ever contacted Lyss. This screenshot was taken after Catfire had finally contacted Lyss, but the original post was made before.

While not directly saying Lyss's name, this is still a public callout. You are still publicly vaguing and calling someone out, even without saying their name. As well as being completely wrong in your final comment, by the way! Lyss has never once stolen art. Why you decide to paint Lyss as an art thief specifically is beyond me, because that is a straight up lie. Catfire, Hicor, and their gaggle of friends all spam reblogged this post, and other vague posts, multiple times while leaving cruel comments in the tags.

You were having people in your inbox leaving threatening messages to Lyss without even knowing the entire situation, which now that you have made a public callout post that paints Lyss in a highly negative light for no reason, I wonder where these threatening messages are going to end up?

This image from the callout post highlights so much, but says so little. You are demonizing Lyss for not knowing what design she was supposedly stealing from before you gave her a single hint as to what you were talking about, of course anyone would be confused in this situation. You use Lyss's initial confusion turned confession into being inspired as if she confessed to committing a federal crime. You hold onto her phrasing of "color shift" so hard because you have no arguments without it.

You also rag on Lyss for the redesign "not being good enough" and as far as we're aware, you made no further contact with Lyss to express your dissatisfaction with the redesign. May I remind you, in your OWN screenshots, that Lyss makes a comment about changing the design until it's separate enough. There was nothing stopping you from approaching Lyss again and stating that you still felt like they were too similar, but you didn't do that. You resorted to making a public callout that makes you look incredibly entitled and foolish.

Conclusion.

You do better. You and your friends want to talk about respecting artists and what they make but you clearly have no respect for Lyss, or a majority of Rain World artists anyways. You point out that Lyss is a "post-downpour" artist for no reason, and many of this groups blogs are filled to the brim with posts and tags about how much they detest new Rain World fans, how they don't respect them, or how they even flat-out dislike them. You are not entitled to anything because you've been a Rain World fan longer than other people. Stop going on the Fandom website and complaining when there's Fandom.

#rain world #unparalleled innocence

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orange-orchard-system · 3 months

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Got a hate ask on my other blog (funnier-as-a-system) today. I'm not gonna respond to it directly, but I'm gonna go over it fully just as an example of why I don't take anti-endos or sysmeds seriously and find them to be just bullying assholes who don't know what they're talking about. Apologies for the rare discourse post, but I felt it would be useful to have a personal example I can point to if I ever get any more asks than I already have about why I block anti-endos and sysmeds and don't want them on my blogs.

[ID: A screenshot of an anonymous ask, which reads: ""Systems" aren't real. Please stop being ableist against people with DID and our struggles. Pretending to be one of us while simultaneously mocking us makes you look like a piece of shit. Also, DID isn't fucking funny, you're just cruel and ableist. Go see a psychiatrist, get your personality disorders and Munchausens taken care of, and stop pretending to have DID when you don't. We don't need you, our community is better off without teenagers faking DID as a meme. To be honest, I wish you and literally everyone like you were more likely to kill yourself as someone with a real mental illness, because you don't deserve to be alive if this is what you're doing with your life. You're just a delusional bully and neo-nazi" ./ end ID]

Starting from the top, apparently anyone with DID who's ever described themselves as a system is faking now. Nevermind that it's been a term in psychology and the community for decades now! All systems are fake!

I have DID. I've said as much many times. Not that I think this person would consider this a counterargument, but I feel it deserves restating considering a fair amount of my posts are specifically about my DID and managing the symptoms of it.

If I want to find humor in my own disorder, I'm going to. I'm not going to resign myself to misery and self-hate just to please some randos on the Internet. I crawled my way out of the pit of self-hate and am not just gonna jump in there again just to avoid a couple asks and assholes. And I'd make a point here about systems that don't come from trauma or aren't disordered, but what's the point of that when they think literally all systems are fake?

Ohoho! Disableism towards other mental disorders! Isn't the irony sweet?

Not to toot my own horn, but I just love the lack of awareness when it comes to "we don't need you." No, I guess you don't need me... but you'll be going without the work I've done both online and offline to teach people about dissociation and plurality. Not to mention the terms I've coined that make people feel seen, the experiences I've talked about that make people feel less alone, the building of spaces to let others talk about their own problems and experiences, and the general promotion I've done of plural representation in media. No, you don't need me, but I've been doing work to assist the DID and wider plural communities for years now. And what have you been doing? Sending hate asks to people with DID for being too happy?

I'm an adult. I've mentioned before that I go to university and have a job. Seems like even online, I can't escape the assumption that I'm a teenager, smh. Also, I'm much more worried about the teenagers you might be sending this to than any kind of unquantifiable harm a couple teenagers faking DID could do, considering how clearly you wish to do harm with your words. Especially considering the next few sentences...

Oh, so we're just moving onto blatant suicide baiting and admitting you want systems to die. Got it. Totally not a bigot, right.

Wait... "Real mental illnesses"? Didn't you just accuse me of having several earlier? Or do personality disorders and Munchausen Syndrome not count? (Also, do they think being suicidal is a requirement to be mentally ill? They know not all disorders or presentations of disorders involve suicidality, right?)

Well, you got the delusional part right (which, side note, do you think it's impossible for people to have both DID and psychosis? Big yikes even if no, but that's what these asks always seem to imply), but I think this post might be the closest anyone can call "bullying", considering I'm not giving you an opportunity to respond as I tear down your argument. But maybe the definition of peer abuse changed to *checks notes* running a blog talking about plurality in a positive manner since I last checked.

These people do know what a Neo-Nazi is, right? They know what a Nazi is? Because it feels like people just use it as a stand-in for "general asshole" when it means a specific sort of ideology and bigotry. Ironic that they'd be so pissed about "mockery" and treating serious topics "as a meme", but then they go and misuse a term for a very dangerous kind of ideology and person.

Alright, I think I got that out of my system. Please be careful out there, guys! It feels like the number of hate asks I've seen people get has been going up. I'm in a stable enough place to make a demonstration out of this, but don't push yourself to have a snappy comeback or write essays responding to these assholes if you don't think you're up for it. Hell, I rarely write things like this myself, I just chose this ask to respond to because it was such a clear example of how hypocritical and foolish this particular brand of assholes is that I couldn't pass up the opportunity to break it down.

#syscourse #disableism #front soup.txt #suicide baiting

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gottestod-writes · 2 months

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Writeblr Intro

Hi, I feel like it's finally time for me to do one of these. I've decided to create a side blog entirely dedicated to writing and writeblr so as to keep things orderly.

About me: I'm Eloma and have been dabbling with writing ever since I was a teen. Nothing ever came of it until 2 1/2 years ago when I joined the writing group of two friends. I have now completed the second draft of my first novel-length thing. Besides writing and reading, I love drawing, bg3, and pen and paper role playing games.

So far, I've been a little post-shy when it comes to writeblr (hopefully, this side blog will change that), but I love lurking and seeing other writers ramble about their projects, post writing snippets, gush about their OC's, or share their art. Excitement is contagious!

I'm open to chat, though I may not respond straight away (time zones and work) and would love to find other writers to interact with and follow, so please interact if you want me to see you <3 I don't know how tag games work but would love to participate one day lol I like and follow from my main account @g0ttest0d

My Writing

I don't currently have any of my writing shared online (yet!), but I do have two WIPs that I work on and may post about in the future. I enjoy writing fantasy, although not the sword and sorcery type but rather the smaller and more personal stories. Things don't always end well for the characters involved. I'm obsessed with world building, especially anything food or religion.

WIP 1) War In Heaven

Lucifer is just an ordinary office worker, directly employed by the Father himself and seeking happiness through consumerism and an implicitly promised raise. Through meeting a fellow angel, trading with the local squatting population and encountering the first humans, he is thrust into questioning his own position in a deeply classist society. The story is non-religious.

Current stage: 2nd draft complete (it's a mess hihi) Word count: 84k

WIP 2) Memento Morisn't (temporary title)

A young woman in the fictional world of Amberplain is torn between family life in her rural hometown and getting her university education in the big city. A family tragedy and a job offer by one of her teachers put her on a path of no return. Meanwhile a spirit intrigued by such crazy concepts as "physical sensations" and "fun" attempts to sneak their way into the human world for good.

(Content is subject to change)

Current stage: planning and plotting Word count: 0

#writeblr #writeblr intro #writing #creative writing #mine #gottestod-writes

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bekkathyst · 6 months

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BEKKATHYST Autumn 2023 Giveaway!

~This giveaway is in no way affiliated with Tumblr.~

Please read thoroughly before entering!

Hello lovely Tumblr folk! It’s that time again- I have a giveaway for you all. 💜

We have an online store that could use your support!

You can also find us on Instagram.

About us: My business is a small, family-run establishment that I started here on Tumblr in 2013. I’ve been lucky enough to grow to the point where this supports me, my partner, and our daughter. In the US we also had a brick-and-mortar shop in which I employed my mom and a few of my siblings. However, we closed it to be able to move to Austria, my home country! 💜 I strive to put compassion and ethics above all else in my business, and I hope that shines through. We have a website but also run many fun sales directly here on Tumblr!

This giveaway will have two winners.

What the first winner receives:

All the pictured crystals, plus a $100 gift card that can be used for our online store or our Tumblr sales. Pictured crystals: rose quartz freeform, nellite sphere with stand, kambaba jasper sphere with stand, purple labradorite freeform, silver moonstone freeform, polished chevron amethyst, thullite sphere, lizardite sphere, Mongolian black quartz crystal, amethyst rainbow amethyst druzy cut base, blue labradorite pebble, and a polished amethyst point. I wanted to pick some more unique stones for this giveaway!

What the second winner receives:

A $50 gift card that can be used for our online store or Tumblr sales!

Rules:

You must be 16 or older. (If under 18 you MUST have parent’s permission)

You can be from anywhere in the world! I am shipping from Austria.

Shipping is entirely free, I will cover it. But if you live in a country that charges import tax on gifts, you are responsible for it. If it gets sent back to me, you will need to pay shipping to have it sent again.

You must be following me, so you can get updates if anything about the giveaway changes.

Please check out our online shop!

Reblog this post to enter. Likes count as additional entries. No giveaway or spam blogs. If you reblog on a side blog, let me know in the tags what the name of your blog is that you’re following me with.

At the end, each entry will be assigned a number and the winner will be chosen by a random number generator.

The giveaway ends on December 20th, 2023.

The winners will be messaged and must respond with their full name and address within 24 hours, or a new winner will be chosen.

Please respect me and my rules, and have fun!

#item #original #autumn 2023

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theforgottenmcrmy · 2 years

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From This Day, Part 2/2 (Ser Harwin Strong x Reader)

᯽ Please note that this is a Part 2/2, and an overall Part 5 of an ongoing series. Part 1-4 can be found on the "Growing Strong” Masterlist, which is pinned on my blog. For some reason, my public tags aren’t working today when I try to link those two posts here. ᯽

Pairing: Ser Harwin Strong x Tyrell! Female Reader

Warnings: PLEASE READ. In addition to the GOT typical sexism, canon divergence, violence, and references to the death of parent(s), there is also a scene that gets a bit 🔥 . No explicit language or descriptions are used, but it’s also pretty clear on what’s about to go down, so... fair warning. Honestly, I think it’s kinda tasteful 🔥 that fits the language and themes of the story so far, but I didn’t want to not say anything about it either, just in case.

Word Count: N/A because I get in my head about it and it makes me self conscious.

A/N: Part 2! Why do I find the damn GOT Faith of the Seven Vows so romantic? Like😅... I HIGHLY recommend listening to the I Am Hers, She Is Mine score while reading this, especially after the first scene. I’d link it, but then my public tags wouldn’t work, so😢

Anyways, thank you all for the support🖤 I hope you enjoy, and that you have a great rest of the week!

“What in the gods’ name is the meaning of this?!”

In the blink of an eye, the young lord was quickly yanked away from you and shoved up against the wall beside you instead. Lord Loreon groaned in protest to the swift action.

“Tyrell!”

“You dare try to stake a claim on my sister?!”

“Lady Y/N!”

Before you could begin to make sense of what was happening, Harwin was before you. Though seeing him usually brought you great comfort, he looked deeply troubled, and there was anger in his eyes that you had yet to witness personally.

“Did he lay a hand on you?” he asked you directly.

Lord Loreon scoffed, “I most certainly did not!”

“Silence!” your brother barked at him.

You were stunned into a momentary silence, but when you realized that Ser Harwin would not make a further move until you responded, you did so. “No, no. He didn’t.”

Ser Harwin looked as though he wanted to say more, but he relented, either accepting your statement as truth, or simply not wishing to argue. The anger in his eyes began to fade, leaving only concern.

“Y/N!” Princess Rhaenyra exclaimed, pulling you to her side and away from the wall. She looked you over, rapidly searching for any physical signs of distress. “Are you alright?”

It was then that you realized the presence of Lord Jason.

“Tyrell, you get your hands off my son, now!” he snarled.

You turned your attention to his line of sight, and were shocked by the scene before you.

Your brother had Loreon pinned up against the wall, with his forearm pressing tightly against his throat. Ser Harwin purposefully placed himself between Lord Jason and Derron, preventing the former from intervening in any sort of way. His position also put a sizable barrier between you and the squirming Lannister boy… perhaps that was also an intention of his, you supposed.

Regardless, even off the tourney field, it seemed as though the alliance between your brother and your betrothed was one that would be long-lasting.

Derron ignored Lord Jason’s order, and instead, gave one of his own to his captive. “Now you may speak, My Lord. Explain yourself, so that I may decide how best to deal with you.”

“She approached me!” Lord Loreon squealed. To your brother’s credit, the young lord did not appear to be struggling for air… but he wasn’t able to move, either. “I only met her here upon her request!”

Insulted most deeply, you snapped, “That is a gross lie!”

The Princess shushed you, but you were too impassioned to stop now. You would not let your name and reputation be soiled by the likes of Loreon Lannister- especially not in front of Ser Harwin.

“I was informed that the Princess wanted to speak with me privately, and that I was to meet her at once,” you explained. “I waited for her here for quite some time, until he approached me!”

“She’s lying!” Lord Loreon fumed, his rage rampant. “You little-”

“Mind your tongue!” Ser Harwin ordered him threateningly in a low voice. “Or else you’ll lose it.”

Loreon gasped.

“Harwin!” Lord Lyonel scolded, coming to stand beside Lord Jason. You just realized his presence too, but he looked about as desperate for answers as the other men and Princess Rhaenyra. He looked at you next. “Lady Y/N- please, continue. What happened then?”

“He tried to convince me to run away with him, and said we could leave King’s Landing tonight.”

Lord Loreon fumed, “That is what you asked for!”

“It most certainly is not!”

Though he was unable to move his neck or head, Lord Loreon, with great struggle, managed to retrieve a piece of parchment from his coat. Ser Harwin stepped aside just enough for his father to reach and grab it from the young Lannister.

The entire group watched as Lord Lyonel read the letter with a blank face. After a moment, he announced, “It appears to be a rather… blunt, passionate letter, from Lady Y/N, requesting just as Lord Loreon says…”

The blood drained from your face.

“It is a farce,” Ser Harwin denounced vehemently. “I am certain of it!”

You were heartened by his quick and staunch defense of you. Most other men might have assumed the worst, but- as you were constantly forced to remind yourself- Harwin was not like most men.

“Let me see that,” Princess Rhaenyra commanded, accepting the letter from the Lord Hand and reading it herself. When she was done, she laughed shortly. “This is not even Lady Y/N’s hand!”

“What?” Lord Loreon gasped.

“Lady Y/N has been writing letters for me for the better part of a year,” Princess Rhaenyra reminded the group. She was confident, and her tone left absolutely no room for question. “I can choose it amongst others from sight alone. I assure you, this letter is not written in her hand. Nor would I ever believe her to be capable of such a thing.”

You were humbled by Princess Rhaenyra rising to your defense as well.

“May I, Your Grace?” Lord Jason asked, eyeing the parchment suspiciously. Princess Rhaenyra handed it over to him wordlessly, and his eyes rapidly scanned over the contents. When he was finished, they rolled as he groaned tiredly. “Seven Hells, Son!” he exclaimed to Loreon. “I cannot believe you fell for this, you fool! The language alone…”

Derron took the letter from Lord Jason with a flourish, though he otherwise remained still, keeping Loreon pinned to the wall. Your brother read the letter, and scoffed. To the young lord, he questioned mockingly, “You actually believed my sister would write you such a thing?!”

Derron held the letter out to Ser Harwin to take, but your betrothed made no move to do so. Instead, he looked over at you. Though he had defended you thus far, part of you expected to find disappointment lingering in his eyes. However, there simply was none to be found.

“There is no need for me to read it,” he decided out loud, his eyes never wavering from your own. “For even if it was written by Lady Y/N’s hand, I know it could not possibly be true.”

Your heart felt as though it might burst from your chest.

“Y/N?” your brother offered then.

“I have no desire to read it, either,” you said, eyes still locked with Harwin’s. “It is a complete fabrication that I wish to give no further merit to by entertaining it further.”

Ser Harwin was the one to finally break away. He turned back to your brother, and put a hand on his shoulder. Your brother huffed once more, probably out of disbelief than anything else, before begrudgingly removing his arm from Lord Loreon’s neck.

The young man scrambled away from Derron and over to his father, but the other man looked no more pleased with him.

“It would seem,” Lord Lyonel began, garnering everyone’s attention, “That someone has decided to play a cruel trick upon us this evening.”

“A trick?” Derron repeated dumbfoundedly. “It was a trick that My Lord sought to lay a hand on my sister? And on the night before her wedding, no less?”

“My son was foolish,” Lord Jason admitted, though he sounded pained in doing so. “But you are not innocent, either. You have accosted my son, without knowing the full extent of what led him here!”

Your brother ignored Lord Jason entirely. Instead, he looked at you expectantly. “It is you who was wronged, and so it shall be your decision, Sister. What would you have us do with him?”

Lord Loreon looked between your brother and Ser Harwin with a mixture of pure shock and fear. He attempted to make a small step closer towards his father subtly, as if seeking safety, but failed.

You looked at the sorry excuse for the future patriarch of House Lannister pitifully.

And that’s when it hit you.

“Let him go.”

Your brother’s eyebrows shot up. “What?!”

Harwin looked at you carefully, but it was more out of interest than protest.

“You shall do nothing to him,” you insisted firmly. “Each family has made a grievance upon the other tonight… but it shall go no further than this. Whoever devised this trick-” - plot - “-shall receive no satisfaction from their efforts whatsoever.”

It was quiet for a moment as everyone present mused over your suggestion.

“Lady Y/N is wise beyond her years,” Lord Lyonel finally declared, stepping up on your behalf. “Perhaps, given the extenuating circumstances, and the fact that both Lady Y/N and Lord Loreon appear to have suffered no serious harm… Perhaps it is best that we all return to the feast at once, and forget this entire farce ever occurred.”

You could tell your brother was not so inclined to agree, but he had little choice in the matter when the Princess offered her own opinion.

“I agree with the Lord Hand,” Princess Rhaenyra announced decisively. “None of us shall speak of this matter ever again… And, should word about any of this begin to travel, we will know whom to look to for answers. Do we have everyone’s word?”

The reasoning, from everyone who had offered it, was sound. After a few moments, everyone nodded their heads in silent agreement.

“Let us return to the feast, then,” Derron encouraged, albeit half-bitterly. “Perhaps we shall all test the limits of what memories the finest wine from the Reach can blur.”

Your brother angrily tossed the piece of parchment into a nearby hanging torch.

Later that evening, you returned to your chambers, thoroughly exhausted, emotionally and physically.

You sat upon your bed, and begrudgingly removed your shoes from your sore feet. As the shoes fell to the ground with a soft thud, light knocks rasped against the door.

You quickly strode across the room, and cracked it open.

It was Ser Harwin.

Wordlessly, you opened the door a touch wider to allow him entry. He slipped inside, and you shut the door as silently as you could manage behind him.

“You shouldn’t have come,” you told him, not yet turning to face him.

“Do you not wish to see me?”

“It is not that,” you disagreed, slowly placing your tired hands upon the wooden door. “I am only worried that someone else will have taken notice of you coming here.”

“They have yet to notice thus far,” Ser Harwin reminded you patiently, and you could practically hear the small mischievous smile playing upon his lips.

It was true. Since your betrothal was made official, Harwin had begun to visit you late at night in your chambers. At first, it only started when he was due to go off on patrol out in the city, as was one of his duties as a member of the City Watch. He would stop by, you could converse freely and openly, and then he would be on his way. The visits slowly but surely grew in frequency, and now, it was not unusual for your betrothed to pay you late night visits several days of the week.

If anyone else were to discover what was occuring, there would be serious repercussions, and both of your reputations would be tainted. Perhaps yours more so than his. Harwin had voiced this concern to you, and you heard him out when he did. But ultimately, neither of you wanted to sacrifice the time the two of you were able to share. And so, you had mutually agreed to be even more especially discreet about it.

Nothing had ever… happened, between the two of you during the late night visits, though the environment around you had gotten a bit heated on the occasion. The focus had always been the ability to be open and speak plainly with the other without an escort, and it was that intent that kept the two of you wanting to continue, despite the risks.

Besides the fact that it was the night before your wedding, you had not expected him to visit you tonight… not after everything that had happened.

When you finally turned around to face him, Ser Harwin immediately did a double take. “Were you crying, My Lady?”

Hot tears you hadn’t even realized you allowed to form fell down your cheeks. Your face heated with mild embarrassment as you swiped them away briskly. “It is nothing.”

It was a bold, blatant lie.

But Ser Harwin knew that.

There was still a bit of distance between you, closer than there normally would have been. But despite the additional leniency, Harwin still had to look down at you to see your face. When he did, you saw that his own expression was riddled with nothing but the utmost sympathy and worry.

“If you do not wish to see me, you need only say the word,” he said, politely offering to excuse himself once more. “I only wished to ensure that all was well… or rather, as well as it can be.”

You knew with complete certainty that you did not want him to leave. But after everything that had transpired that evening, when the man who claimed to love you so greatly confirmed the notion as fact by openly showing nothing but complete trust in and concern for you… It was overwhelming.

“You are… inconceivable, Ser Harwin.”

His concern was muddied by confusion. “... I beg your pardon, My Lady?”

“We have just escaped ruin by the skin of our teeth, and you are more concerned with how I am feeling than trying to discover who orchestrated the vile ‘trick’ we nearly fell prey to.”

“It is not that I do not care about that,” Ser Harwin corrected. “I simply care about your well being more.”

You sighed. Whether it was out of tiredness or frustration, you were not sure. You said nothing, and your eyes fell to the floor. The stone felt pleasantly cool beneath your feet, but it was not nearly enough to cure what ailed you.

The only thing- or someone rather- that could cure you was standing just several feet away. Close, and yet so far.

“... Y/N?”

Upon hearing your betrothed call out your name so tenderly, you had no choice but to look him in the eyes once more. Once you did, you caved.

Wordlessly, he opened his arms, holding them outwards to you. The facade of pleasant exchanges shattered, leaving nothing but raw emotion in its wake.

You rushed forward in long strides, casting aside any sense of propriety or fear of further embarrassing yourself. When you reached Ser Harwin, you threw your arms in a vice-like grip around him, and buried your face in his chest.

In response, he let out a soft grunt- but you reasoned that had more likely to do with his aches and bruises from the tourney than anything else. Your eyes widened guilty as you pulled away, apologies for causing him further discomfort already on the tip of your tongue. But before you could say a word, Harwin pressed a hand to your back, and promptly pulled you towards him and into the embrace once more.

You hid your smile by pressing your face further into his chest. With one hand remaining on the small of your back, his other hand reached up to lightly cup the back of your head. You dug your fingers into the back of his doublet as firmly as you dared.

The nearly crippling sense of overwhelmingness you felt faded into the night. Ser Harwin had the uncanny ability to bring a calmness out of you that you never would have guessed was possible… though you would always feel indebted to him for it.

After several minutes of extremely comfortable silence, Harwin was the first to pull away. He allowed himself enough room to look down at you lovingly, but his arms made no move to let you go any further out of reach than what was necessary. Not that you would have wished to leave them, anyway.

“Better?” he prodded gently.

You looked up at him, resting your chin upon his chest. “Very much so.”

The hand that rested upon the back of your head traveled, several of its fingers coming to cup your chin instead. Ser Harwin leant down slowly, and placed a ghostly trace of a kiss upon your lips.

You blinked as the gesture left you feeling a bit dazed. Before you could playfully lash at him for teasing you so, he continued.

“I hope you can forgive me for delaying your rest,” Ser Harwin apologized. “I knew that sleep would not claim me tonight, not unless I was able to speak with you first.”

“There is nothing to forgive, My Lord.”

His hand shifted to cradle the side of your face. Though Ser Harwin held you within both of his arms, everything about his facial expression and body language suggested that you were the one who had true control of the situation you two were entangled in.

“Shall I be on my way, then?” he asked of you then, uncertainly.

You reached up and tapped his chin lightly with your forefinger. “There is no need for that… unless you wish to leave.”

“I do not.”

“Very well. Stay.”

In the aftermath of your particularly serious moment, the return of your light hearted exchanges left the both of you feeling a bit out of place. Slowly, so as not to give him any cause to perceive offense, you removed yourself from Ser Harwin’s arms. He let you go without protest.

You gestured to the table and chairs at the very edge of the room, just before the balcony. The two of you seated yourselves wordlessly, and you offered him some wine.

“Lord Derron will be having an unpleasant enough time in the morning,” Ser Harwin politely declined. “I would not burden you with another charge to look after.”

Despite yourself, you laughed.

Your brother, just as he had suggested, had taken to drowning in his cups after everyone returned to the feast. You let him be at first, seeing that it was harmless enough. But when Derron attempted to make a speech- the same speech he had already made hours before, but this time with the addition of colorful inebriated musings- you were forced to ask a cousin to escort him safely to his chambers to retire for the evening.

You planned to chastise your brother in the morning for threatening to make a fool of himself at the feast. But still, you knew just how likely you were to hold your tongue. Derron had also been struggling with the passing of your father, and in addition, he had been weighed down by his new responsibilities as well. Regardless of whether you would be the one to dole it upon him, Derron would learn his lesson from this night, of that you were sure.

“Well,” you began, suppressing a smile, “I thank you for that.”

Just outside the open archways leading to the balcony in front of you, a night’s view of King’s Landing waited. Despite the lateness of the hour, plenty of lanterns and torches were lit, and the noise of the city, though fainter than it would have been underneath sunlight, was still audible. The city was very much alive. Above the city was a black sky, only interrupted by stars, cold and distant, and the morose, solitary illumination of the moon.

You peeked over at Ser Harwin through your lashes. Thankfully, his attention was still focused on the view before you. You dared to wonder if you would ever find yourself in a scene like this again… Though you could have easily lived without the troubles that had resulted later on in the feast, you wouldn’t have traded the moment you were in for anything else in the world. Is this what the future held for you? Countless evenings, spent quietly, or not, with the one man who seemed to know you better than you knew yourself at times?

You desperately hoped so.

“Are you frightened?”

Ser Harwin tore his focus away from the view of the city, and returned it to you. When you said nothing, opting to wait patiently for him to elaborate further, he did so.

“It appears that someone among these halls does not wish us to be wed.”

Not someone, but several people came to mind.

You could ascertain many reasons as to why certain people among the Red Keep, and beyond, would not wish the two of you to be wed. The potential motives were infinite, and were made even more daunting by the fact that you were likely to remain in the dark about them forever. In the morning, you and Ser Harwin would pledge yourself to the other in the Great Sept of Baelor in front of your family, friends, esteemed guests, and other less than genuine attendees. And by then, it would be made clear that whoever had orchestrated the foul plot with Lord Loreon Lannister with the intention of causing a scandal and ruining the wedding would have gone through all that work for nought.

“Does the thought of that frighten you?” Harwin pried again curiously.

Whatever your answer was to be, you knew he would accept it without question. So there was no reason why you could not speak the truth. “It did, at first… But not anymore.”

“No? What changed?”

“Being here with you,” you confessed proudly, and without any shame. Then, you wondered out loud, “Are you aware of how much you affect me? Do you know just how grounded and calmed I am whenever you’re near?”

The revelation that fell over your betrothed’s face indicated that he had an inkling of an idea, but did not know of the full extent that you had just described.

You concluded, “I find myself having very little to fear with you by my side, My Lord.”

Harwin beamed. “That is most fortunate, My Lady, as I do not intend to stray from it.”

Though someone, whose identity and motive were still very much unknown, had conspired against you earlier that evening, the feeling was simply grand when the tables finally turned. There was a new-found sense of camaraderie with Ser Harwin, as the two of you conspired with one another, together, instead.

“Do you love me?”

Visible confusion flooded his face. Still, he answered. “With everything I am, and hope to be, My Lady.”

You didn’t doubt that, but wondered, if it were even possible, if your love for him ran even deeper than that. You told him as much. Then, feeling emboldened, you declared slyly, “So, I dare say, if someone wishes to divide us: let them try.”

Ser Harwin chuckled, and shook his head.

Your confidence wavered at his peculiar reaction. “What is it?”

He settled down, and sat up straighter in his seat. There was something intense about Harwin’s eyes when they locked with yours, then… something enticing, if not downright seductive, lingered in his usually calming irises.

“Since our betrothal, several people have made jokes at my expense,” he disclosed to you. “It’s been harmless- mostly jests thrown out about the training yard. But they ask me, ‘What business does Ser Breakbones have with a Tyrell?’ They thought my father might arrange for me to marry someone from the Riverlands, or even the North… Not a ‘flower’, from the South, as they so impolitely put it.” Harwin’s eyes looked glossy, as if he was recalling the scenes vividly. Then, the veil lifted, and he looked at you with sudden resolve. “But they underestimate you. And they fail to see something I have known about you all along.”

“And what is that?” you wondered, genuinely curious.

“Despite your outward appearance, in your heart, you are a fighter. Just as I am.”

Your eyes threatened to shine with tears once more.

“Roses have thorns,” he proclaimed. “I pity the men who would dare to forget that… and I pray that I am never one of them.”

“If that happens, you’ll have plenty of years to make it up to me, good fortune permitting.”

“Trust me, My Love- I look forward to it.”

You both fell into a comfortable silence once again. In your mind’s eye, you pictured what you had just alluded to. Growing old together. Traveling from King’s Landing to Harrenhal, and even to the Reach, year after year. Would you have a family? That had yet to be seen. But, at the very least, you would have one another. A few years, decades, every single day for the rest of your life… With a strange sense of sadness, you realized that no amount of time with Harwin on this mortal earth would ever be enough.

“... I could still pummel the Lannister boy, if you wish. Merely say the word, and it shall be done.”

You were shocked by just how plainly your betrothed proposed such a thing. His tone was conversational, as though he had offered to pass you a dish whilst dining together. Not as though he had just threatened to bludgeon the oldest son and heir of the Lord of Casterly Rock.

“Harwin!”

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence. “You’re my lady wife- how could I ever forget such an atrocity that was committed against you?”

“Nothing happened, Dearest,” you reminded him patiently. It was true; the ordeal had scared you, perhaps terribly so. But physically, you were unharmed. And yet, as much as you dreaded the thought of him causing further strife between your families and the Lannisters, the thought of Harwin willing to go such lengths for you made your heart flutter. But you would not feed into it. “And, I am not yet your lady wife, as we are not yet wed.”

“That is of little import, My Love,” Harwin dismissed briskly. “For how long you have held my heart, a ceremony feels like a simple formality at most.”

You fought the urge to smile, not wanting to encourage him further. “We cannot just go breaking the bones of the Lannister boy, especially not whilst the reason behind your assault could not be truthfully explained to the Court.”

Ser Harwin's face fell, and he pursed his lips thoughtfully. He knew you made a fair point.

After a moment, you added, “And we cannot go about breaking the bones of anyone else who wrongs us, either.”

Ser Harwin eyed you cautiously. “There will be others.”

“I know.”

Your betrothed was no fool. He was more than aware of the dangerous environment in which he lived.

Harwin was the oldest son of the Hand of the King… a position that the Queen’s father had been stripped of unceremoniously. Lord Lyonel Strong was loyal to three things: his family, the realm, and King Viserys. In that order. He could not be bought with money or promises of power, but he could be swayed by the well-being of his children. You were a lady in waiting to Princess Rhaenyra… and, dare you say it, a close friend. The Tyrells and Hightowers had struggled for power and influence in the Reach since Harlen Tyrell bent the knee to Aegon the Conqueror. When King Viserys passed, there would be little doubt as to where the support of House Tyrell would fall in the matter of succession, unless you were to sway it.

You were likely to have enemies rising against you individually. Once the two of you were wed, it would be a certainty. They’d come in troves.

“As you said earlier- ‘let them try’,” Harwin challenged. “I shall consider our wedding tomorrow the first of many victories against the shadows that work against us.”

The reaffirmation of the event that was set to begin in just a few hours brought to mind your reservations that you had discussed with Princess Rhaenyra the day before. You wondered if your love shared in your nerves. “Are you ready for it? … For the wedding, I mean.”

“In my heart, I have been ready since the day I realized you’d stolen it from me.”

You blushed.

“... In my mind, I may be a bit worried about blundering the vows in front of the High Septon.”

You laughed once, both amused and touched by his honesty.

“What about you, My Lady? Are you prepared?”

“For the vows? I believe so.”

Ser Harwin was an observant man- you’d never fault him that. He noticed the careful way you answered his question immediately, and the way at which you suddenly refused to meet his gaze.

“Something troubles you.” It was more of a statement than a question.

You bit your bottom lip gently, the nerves rushing back to you all at once. Still, you were an honest woman, and you knew Harwin deserved nothing less. “Yes.”

Your heart wrenched when a look of sadness flushed over his face. “Are you having doubts about this marriage, Lady Y/N?”

“No.” Your hand shot across the table, intertwining with one of his own to emphasize the gravity of your words. “Not at all.”

“Then what ails you, My Love?”

You struggled for a moment how to voice your concern diplomatically. But when you felt Hawin’s fingers tracing over the palm of your hand, you were hastily reminded of whom you were speaking to. His eyes held no judgment, only care.

“I do not have any doubts about marrying you,” you repeated firmly. “But I am a bit nervous as to what comes… after.”

Harwin’s face was blank. “The feast?”

“After the feast.”

“Oh.” Realization washed over his face like the incoming waves along the shoreline of Blackwater Bay. “Oh.”

You lowered your gaze bashfully. “Yes.”

Harwin’s grip on your hand tightened, encouraging you to look at him once more. “Do I make you nervous, My Love?”

Of course he did. But not in the way he was inferring about.

“I assure you, you need not worry about what will transpire tomorrow night. Nothing will happen between us that you do not wish to.”

Frustration brewed within you at his response, but you couldn’t quite figure out why. “But we have duties.”

It was expected that you would have children, so that the Strong line would be continued.

“We are young, and there is plenty of time for that yet,” Harwin reassured you. “Whether we decide to cross that path tomorrow night, or even five years from now, is no matter of concern to me.”

“And you would be happy?” you challenged playfully, though part of you feared his answer. “You would be happy with a wife of several years with whom you would not share a bed?”

“I would be happy, truly, as long as I am with you.”

…

You were taken aback. How did this man hold so much sway over you still? You had known him well for the better part of a year, and had grown even closer than you would have thought possible over the past several months. And yet, Ser Harwin still had the ability to leave you completely shocked by his openness with you. It was refreshing to see someone, especially a man, especially a man in King’s Landing, who was entirely unafraid to be vulnerable.

Perhaps there was a strength to be found in owning one’s truths, rather than hiding or denying them. Perhaps your betrothed was one of the most intelligent of them all.

“It is getting rather late,” Harwin said purposefully, having noted your prolonged silence. “I suppose I should retire, and allow you to get some rest for tomorrow.”

“If that is your wish.”

You could tell by the look on his face that it still was not.

You rose from your seat and walked over to him slowly. Harwin remained seated, though he watched you with great interest as you approached. He allowed you to place gentle hands on the sides of his head, letting out a soft sigh as you did so. You carefully tilted it slightly towards his left.

Your eyes raked over the nasty bruises that adorned the side of his neck. It was even more shocking in appearance now than it had been a few hours prior at the feast.

You felt like a spectator, lacking control of the situation as you watched your hand lower hesitantly. Careful fingers ran over the purpled skin, and the body it belonged to shivered beneath you.

“Does it hurt?” you asked worriedly, withdrawing immediately.

Ser Harwin reached out and captured your retreating hand with his own. “No,” he assured you readily. “... Not as much as it did.”

You nodded understandingly, and when he released your hand, your fingers returned to his neck. Though this time, you were more calculated with your movements. Your eyes fell to where the bruise disappeared beneath his collar. “There are others, aren’t there?”

He eyed you guardedly, unsure about your intentions. Still, he answered, “Yes.”

You weren’t sure what came over you. You had no idea what could have possibly compelled you to ask your next question. But you did. And later, you would thank yourself ten times over for your boldness.

“Can I see?”

Harwin looked at you in slight bewilderment, as if he was not sure he had heard you correctly. “You… want to see the rest of the bruises?”

“Yes.”

Harwin said nothing, his face emotionless. But his eyes were searching, seeking to discover what your motive was with your request.

“I’m sorry,” you said abruptly, having a moment of clarity. “Please, forget I said anything. I didn't mean to overstep-”

You were silenced by Harwin silently undoing the buttons of his doublet.

Taking a step back to allow him room, you watched in an entranced daze as his fingers undid each one, working with a familiar ease. Harwin’s attention was less on his work, and more on you, as he watched for your reaction. Once the garment was undone, he slipped the overcoat off his shoulders, and placed it down on the table before him. He was left in his under tunic shirt. Your eyes couldn’t help but hungrily drift towards the neck of it, where loose strings allowed even more of his skin to be exposed. Deft hands reached for the hem of that next, and a moment later, the fabric was pulled up and over his head. He slowly placed the shirt down atop of the other, while your eyes feasted.

A broad chest, and even broader shoulders, caught your attention first. From his shoulders, your eyes moved over to his arms, where muscle after muscle twitched slightly of their own accord. There was no doubt in your mind that Harwin had earned his nickname Breakbones, and the reputation of being the strongest man in all of the Seven Kingdoms, honestly and fairly. It was only just. Your eyes brazenly continued to trail downwards, where more defined muscles guarded what otherwise would be a vulnerable spot of one’s stomach for most anyone else.

Dark purple and red splotches littering his arms, chest, and even neck could do nothing to take away from his overall appearance.

You silently thanked the Gods for having been blessed with this man.

You were gawking this time- and you wouldn’t deny it even if Harwin asked.

But he didn’t. While you had been preoccupied with the view in front of your eyes, other than that of the city, you had failed to notice Harwin shifting in his seat. At first, you feared it might have been out of pain once again. But then you realized that his eyes were restless, fluttering just about everywhere else in the room but upon you. And another moment of clarity fell upon you.

He was nervous. A man blessed by the Gods in so many ways was unnerved under your perusing eyes. You had, abashedly, sent him into a similar state before. But none of those moments compared to the state he was in now. It both honored and scared you just how much power you held over the matter, but your thoughts on that could wait for a later time.

You didn’t have the heart to leave him in such a pained state any longer. Taking a step forward towards him, you closed the distance between you again. This forced him to look upwards at you. You only hoped that what he saw in your eyes was the same love and kindness which he’d always looked at you with.

Once you stood before him, you placed your hands on his neck once more. You could feel his pulse, rapid and unyielding, beneath your fingertips. In response, Harwin’s hands rose to rest gently upon either side of your waist. Feeling courageous, and perhaps a bit delirious with the lateness of the hour, you leaned downwards.

When your lips gently fell upon the bruise upon his neck, Harwin shuddered.

You proceeded to treat each bruise in this manner, trailing light fingers and leaving soft, faint wisps of kisses in their stead. As the bruises continued down his chest and arms, you calmly maneuvered to sit on Harwin’s lap, so as to make your ministrations that much easier for you. The kisses would do nothing for healing the wounds any faster physically, but perhaps they would be of benefit in spirit.

You were entirely truthful during conversation with Princess Rhaenyra at the tourney the previous morning, regarding your nervousness about the events that were to take place after your wedding. But those butterflies were long forgotten now. And the bruises littering the skin of the man you loved filled your head with images of him throughout the tourney… How was it that you had described your feelings about him then?

Desirous.

Once you had treated every bruise with the care it deserved, you sat up straight, looking deeply into Harwin’s eyes. His hands, one on the small of your back, and the other upon your knee so as to hold you securely in place, felt white hot. You were uncertain of what to do next, but he did not leave you wondering for long. He leant forward, burying his face into the side of your neck instead.

His lips attacked your neck with fervor, and you smiled upwards towards the gods. While the attention felt absolutely lovely, a tickled laugh threatened to escape from your lips. As it were, a giggle slipped out instead. “Harwin.”

Upon hearing his name, he froze, snapped out of the moment he had gotten caught up in. He pulled away from you, looking uncertain once more. “My sincerest apologies, My Lady.”

“No apologies needed, My Lord.”

The two of you sat there for several moments, but this time, the silence was not a comfortable one. Nor was it uncomfortable. It simply felt alive. The need for more hung heavily in the air, but the question of whether the need would be appeased remained unanswered.

“Perhaps we should end the night here,” Harwin said, though he sounded down-trodden.

“Perhaps,” you agreed, your mind already daring to wonder about what would happen if anyone learned of this night, even without it proceeding any further than it already had.

“... Do you wish to continue?”

“Yes,” you answered truthfully, not skipping a beat. “Do you?”

“Yes.”

You cradled the sides of his face and allowed yourself to momentarily be lost in the feeling of your fingers running through the strands of his soft curls. “You know, we are to be wed tomorrow…”

“That is right,” he considered, picking up on your hint immediately. “We are…”

There was a beat of silence.

But then you leaned in, and Harwin met you halfway. The kiss that followed was full of longing. Passion and lust needlessly fought for dominance of a battle they both could win. Harwin shot up from his seat, pulling you up and into his arms. The legs of the chair he’d been sitting in groaned in protest at the sudden movement, and you let out a surprised yelp.

He carried you across the room with ease and without a word. Another laugh escaped you as Harwin unceremoniously dropped you onto the bed. A fraction of a moment later, he joined you on the mattress, crawling on top of you in a manner that, had it been anyone else, would have left you feeling afraid. But, as it was him, you found it to be terribly seductive.

When he came face to face with you, he paused. His weight rested on his hands, which were on each side of your head. A brief flash of the scene earlier that evening crossed your mind at the familiarity of it, but you were pulled from the disturbing thoughts by Harwin’s gentle voice.

“If, at any point, you do not wish to continue-”

You placed a soft finger on his lips, silencing him. “If that is true, I will speak it at once… but only if you agree to the same.”

Harwin looked incredibly moved. In lieu of a verbal confirmation, he took your hand and pressed several soothing kisses on the palm of it.

When Harwin pressed his lips to yours once more, the nerves you felt about the evening of the following day were proven to be unnecessary. There would be a give and take- where one felt uncertain, the other would summon the courage to take the lead. But the trust you had in one another made for the best spent evening you could ever recall thus far.

Come the morrow, you would look forward to a lifetime of evenings spent the same.

Several firm knocks echoed throughout the room.

You awoke with a start, clutching the duvet to your chest.

It was daylight. A few hours into the morning, at least, from what you could tell of the sunlight streaming into the room and the birds chirping outside. The city of King’s Landing was cloaked in darkness no more.

You pulled the duvet closer to you in an effort to gather your bearings more quickly, but something about the material on your skin felt a bit off. You looked downwards with a confused frown, seeing that you were not wearing your usual shift, but something else entirely.

A chill woke you from your slumber.

“Here.”

You opened your eyes, and were immediately met with the sight of fabric. With a small, tired grumble, you mustered the strength to sit up, at least partially.

Harwin took the opportunity to swiftly slide his under tunic shirt over you. As your arms slipped into the sleeves, the scent of the fabric filled your nostrils. Unsurprisingly, it smelled overwhelmingly like him. You wanted nothing more than to burrow yourself inside of it.

Another few knocks sounded out.

“Y/N?” someone called.

“Are you awake?” called another.

The Strong sisters. They’d come to help prepare you for the wedding ceremony, as they had previously promised they would. At first, you felt touched by their offer, and were glad to be getting along well with the girls who would soon be your Good Sisters. But now, you felt horrified. They couldn’t see you in this, clothed in their brother’s shirt!

At least Harwin had had the sense to sneak out at some point… Gods know what a scene it all would have been then.

Panicked, you threw the duvet off of you, and scurried onto the floor. You scrambled around the room, this way and that, looking for your shift frantically. When you did not immediately find it, you realized why Harwin had opted to put his own shirt over you instead.

In a far corner of the room- only the gods know how it may have feasibly gotten there- you finally found it. More knocks sounded on the door as you hurriedly swapped the shirt for the light gown.

“Just a moment!” you called back, dropping the shirt to the floor beside the bed and pushing it under the frame and out of view with your foot.

You smoothed your hair over with your fingers rapidly in an attempt to tidy any out of place hairs. But you knew, at least to a certain extent, that you did not look well-rested in the slightest.

Once you were as settled as you could be, you called out, “Come in!”

Lady Lilyan and Lady Eyla opened the door to your chambers and filed in, one after the other, promptly. They both were already dressed for the ceremony, wearing lovely gowns that had been tailored specifically for the occasion. Their hair was styled carefully as well, done up in a style similar to what they usually wore, with the exception of a few intricate braids here and there. You suspected those additions had been the results of inspiration from the Princess the three of you served.

Once the door was closed, they turned to you, and their jaws dropped.

“Lady Y/N, are you feeling well?” Eyla inquired with wide eyes. “You look like you just climbed out of bed!”

Lilyan shot her a disapproving look for her unnecessary critique. “Eyla!”

Sensing a quarrel brewing between them, you quickly insisted, “She is right- I only just rose.”

Eyla frowned. “I am sorry to hear that. Was it nerves that kept you from resting?”

You cleared your throat, having never been a particularly good liar. “Something like that.”

The three of you proceeded to work in tandem to prepare you for the ceremony. Lilyan, who had been tasked with keeping your dress for safekeeping, set the garment upon your bed, while Eyla assisted you with finding the proper various underskirts.

“You were not jesting, were you?” Lilyan asked you, eyeing the significantly disheveled sheets on your bed with disbelief. “It looks like you must have tossed and turned the whole night!”

Your eyes flicked over to the bed worriedly, but Lilyan’s reaction seemed genuine, and not suspicious in the slightest.

Another comfortable silence had fallen over the pair of you, now sated mentally, emotionally, and, most recently, physically.

Your fingers tapped idly across Harwin’s bare chest. He watched the small movements of your dancing fingers with adoration.

Once you were dressed, Eyla set about finding your brush. Lilyan worked on tightening the back laces of your dress.

A few more knocks sounded on the door.

You weren’t expecting anyone else, but still, you called out, “Come in!”

The door opened, revealing none other than Princess Rhaenyra.

“My Lady!” Eyla exclaimed, displaying shock on behalf of all three of you. She moved to curtsy, but the Princess waved her off politely as she shut the door behind herself.

“Forgive me, I didn't mean to intrude.”

“You are most welcome, as always, Your Grace,” you answered.

Princess Rhaenyra still looked a little uneasy, which was out of character for her. But she pushed through it, and crossed the room to approach you. Eyla was having a bit of difficulty locating the hairbrush, and to be honest, you couldn’t entirely recall where you’d last left it. Lilyan decided to assist her sister in finding the reclusive instrument, which left you and the Princess alone for a moment.

“I remembered how nervous you were two mornings past,” Princess Rhaenyra explained, speaking in a hushed tone so as to keep the conversation as private as possible. “And, given the events of last night, I just wanted to make sure that you were-”

She paused, and her eyes dropped to the floor. You followed suit. Your gut sank as you saw Princess Rhaenyra’s shoe had made contact with the sleeve of your betrothed’s shirt. Evidently, you hadn’t kicked it underneath the bed nearly far enough. The Princess was not daft; you knew any excuse you could craft in order to explain why Ser Harwin’s shirt was in your quarters the morning before your wedding would not be believed.

You looked back up at her with fear.

But Princess Rhaenyra was not appalled. In fact, she looked very amused.

“Are you feeling better today, Lady Y/N?” she asked pointlessly, not bothering to tame her knowing smirk.

“Dearest?”

Harwin, whose eyes had closed in content, was suddenly alert. “Hm?”

“Will you promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Stay with me.”

His head tilted towards the side with confusion. “We are to be wed-”

“No,” you interrupted, wanting- no, needing- to get your point across. “I know we will be husband and wife. But even the bond of marriage does not guarantee those involved will love, or even care, for one another.”

Most others in either of your positions were not so fortunate as to have been arranged to marry someone they loved. You hoped the day where one of you no longer loved the other would never come… but if it did, there would be no separating you. And any enemies the two of you had would only revel in that fact.

“Promise me that you’ll stay with me.”

Harwin looked thoughtful. “Nothing, save your command, would ever part me from you.”

You smiled sadly. You wanted to believe him, and you did. But people changed. The thought of him finding comfort in the arms of another woman was almost too much to bear.

“You do not believe me.” It wasn’t a question.

“I believe that that is your truth at this moment.”

Harwin sighed, though it was not out of anger. “Very well… How about we make a vow? And if I break my promise, you shall have every right to dispose of me as you see fit,” he proposed. Then, as an afterthought, he joked, “I would not haunt you… even though the other spirits of Harrenhal might.”

You wanted to laugh at his joke, but you were far too interested in the point he was attempting to make. “And what is this ‘vow’ you suggest?”

“From this day-“

“It’s night, Dearest.”

“I believe that is the sun rising, My Love.”

You glanced over at the balcony. On the horizon, a faint ray of light lingered. He was right.

“From this day,” Harwin continued amusedly but with purpose, “until the end of my days, I am yours, and you are mine.”

“... Are those not the words we will exchange in a few hours time?”

“Yes, but those will be more for our families’ sake than our own.”

You teased, “I’m not sure the gods see it that way-”

“-These words, here at this moment, are for us.”

One look at his face told you all you needed to know. There were no witnesses, and yet, you had little doubt that Harwin meant the words as he said them now, to you and you alone.

“Yes,” you agreed, fighting to control your voice as emotions threatened to disrupt it. “I am yours, and you are mine. From this day-”

“-Until the end of our days.”

Harwin punctuated the end of your vows to one another with a kiss. Though you still felt the faintest trace of desire behind it, what was more striking to you was the sense of pure, uninhibited love it left you with.

“I am feeling much, much better, Your Grace.”

Lady Lilyan and Lady Eyla were none the wiser to the entire exchange.

Still smiling, the Princess cleared her throat. To the other ladies in the room, she said, “Now… How is it that you plan to style her hair?”

For how long your courtship and betrothal seemed to drag on, you wished the few hours leading up the ceremony had felt the same.

Unfortunately, in what seemed like little time at all, the carriage arrived before the Great Sept of Baelor. The Strong sisters exited first, before assisting you to do the same. Once you were out in the open air, you took a deep breath. The low chimes of the bells of the Sept filled the air.

You glanced behind you, aware of the commotion the carriage and escorting guards traveling through the narrow alleyways of King’s Landing must have caused.

Curious eyes of many of the city folk were upon you. It wasn’t every day a wedding took place in the Great Sept- much less one attended by King Viserys and the rest of the royal family.

Once you entered through the large doors, someone flocked to you immediately.

“You look beautiful, Sister.”

Derron looked dashing himself, but you could tell his overindulgence of wine the prior evening may have been dampening his mood. Still, he pushed through. He smiled at you warmly, taking you in for a moment.

“Just like mother,” he decided, lost in some distant memory. Then, suddenly upbeat, he added, “She would be so proud. Father would be too.”

The mention of your father made your heart wrench. In an effort to stave off tears, you grabbed his hand, and kissed his cheek.

The Strong sisters excused themselves, and wished you good fortune before heading further into the Sept. You watched them leave.

The rest of the guests were already waiting inside. You could see them quite well from where you stood. In one of the front rows, you could see the backs of the silvery blonde hair of the royal family, save the Queen, on one side. On the other, you could see the Lord Hand, standing right beside his other son. Lilyan and Eyla joined the two of them quickly. Besides the Strongs, you could see your aunt, cousin, and few other distant family members among the crowd…

As if he had read your mind, Derron said, “They are here with us.”

You knew exactly what he meant. “I know.”

…

The green and gold cloak over your shoulders felt incredibly heavy. Though you knew it to be no heavier than your gown, as you walked down the aisle, you gripped your brother’s arm tightly, fearful that the weight of it might bring you down to the floor.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at any of the guests as you passed. There would be time to speak with them later.

At that moment, there was only one person who mattered to you. And it was him that you looked to.

Harwin stood atop the first flight of stairs at the end of the aisle. Seeing him, standing there patiently, watching your every move so diligently made you want to do little else but to run straight to him.

Alas, you could not.

When you reached the stairs, you withdrew your arm from Derron’s, and he withdrew the cloak from around your shoulders. You gave him a small smile as he retreated, backing down from the altar to stand beside Lord Lyonel.

You grabbed the arm you knew would be waiting for you, though you did not look at it. You allowed it to guide your feet forward, up a few more stairs. Then, you stopped.

With a brief flourish of fabric, a new cloak was placed over your shoulders. The fabric was of blue, red, and green; the colors of House Strong. Fingers lingered on your shoulders for just a few moments longer than they should have- but you were certain you were the only one to have noticed. Only then did you look at Harwin once more.

The look in your betrothed’s eyes made you want to melt into the floor. And you would have right then and there, had his hand not grasped yours immediately after.

Your eyes remained locked as you raised your intertwined hands, presenting them before the High Septon and the rest of the audience.

“Who has come before the eyes of the Seven?”

“Y/N of House Tyrell.”

“Harwin of House Strong.”

“Have you come before the Seven of your own fruition, without the will or force of another upon you, with the intent of pledging yourself to the other?”

“Yes.”

“Let it be known that Y/N of House Tyrell and Harwin of House Strong are of one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder!”

Yes, you agreed happily. Cursed be they!

The mischievous look across Harwin’s face suggested that he must have had a similar thought. You bit your lip to stifle a laugh.

The High Septon either did not notice, or chose to pay it no mind. He proceeded to wrap your hands together with jeweled fabric used only for this purpose.

“In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them together as one for eternity… Now, look upon the other, and say the words.”

When it came to the vows, Harwin needn’t have been so worried about forgetting them. He recalled them perfectly, as did you. It was an amazing feat, considering when you looked into his eyes, your mind was suddenly devoid of all other thoughts. In hindsight, and considering how little of the actual ceremony you were able to recall, it felt like a dream.

But, as you were in the moment, you were absolutely certain of the existence of three things: Harwin, you, and your shared future.

“Father. Smith. Warrior. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger.”

“-I am hers-”

“-and he is mine-”

“-from this day-”

“-until the end of my days.”

…

Until the end of our days.

...

Whatever transpired next, whether you were to be struck by misfortune decided upon by the gods, or if you were to fall prey to wicked schemes that had not yet been devised, you and Harwin would have each other. You would face whatever came your way together, as one.

And you would both be that much stronger for it.

A/N: Thank you for reading!🖤 I only had one more part after this planned for the story originally, but now I’m thinking of at least 1-2 more chapters on top of that, just to carry out through the rest of HOTD season 1... so feel free to let me know what you think about that!

Also, I had some major problems with tagging, etc today... so I apologize about that. I’ll address it in a separate post.

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hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 1 year

Text

Number 1 Fan

AN: Might as well start off the Ateez smut with my man. This is highly unsafe and probably unethical but, luckily this is fiction lmao. (Also I know not everyone who supports sex workers is a simp and there's nothing wrong with supporting sex workers. Mingi is deadass just a simp in this lol.)

Synopsis: Mingi is one of your biggest fans. He never misses a livestream and has watched every video you've posted. When you announce that you've decided to film a video with one of your followers to celebrate reaching a thousand subscribers, he knows he has no chance of winning but tries his luck anyways. Fortunately for Mingi, luck is on his side.

Heads up: Song Mingi x Fem! Reader, Sex worker! Reader, Simp! Mingi, Mingi is very nervous throughout this, Dom! Reader, Sub! Mingi, praise (m. receiving), dirty talk, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), 69 position, unprotected piv sex and creampie.

Word count: 3640

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

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The air stills in Mingi's lungs when he sees the notification. For a moment, he thinks he's dreaming or hallucinating. However, when he clicks it to read the email, he realises that this is, in fact, very real.

His eyes frantically scan the email informing him that he'd been the one selected to be featured in one of your videos. He'd actually won. He sags onto his bed, reading the email over and over again. Mingi could not believe his eyes.

He's actually going to talk to you. He's going to meet you.

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Mingi is pretty sure his heart is trying to beat out of his chest as he makes his way to the coffee shop you two agreed to meet at. You two had been talking ever since he found out he won. Obviously you didn't give him your personal number since he's sure you have tonnes of creepy people following you, but it was still surreal being able to speak to you directly nonetheless.

You both agreed to meet in person to ease the nervousness and anxiety of filming with one another. Also likely so you could make sure Mingi wasn't some weirdo. Understandable.

"Mingi?" He hears someone ask, and he's certain he forgets how to breathe momentarily.

When he glances up, he sees that you'd already arrived and gotten a table outside.

"Y-Yeah, it's nice to finally meet you," he says, trying his best not to visibly cringe at the audible nervousness in his voice.

The smile you give him only makes his tongue feel heavier in his mouth, and his palms sweat exponentially. He needs to pull himself together.

"It's nice to finally meet you too. Sit, sit, I got here a few minutes ago and thought it would be better to get a table before they were all taken," you respond, gesturing to the empty seat across from you.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," he says, taking a seat a little bit too eagerly.

You wave off his apology, "Don't worry. I just like to get to places early. Force of habit."

He bites back the apology he wants to spew out nonetheless, " So have you ordered anything? Hope you didn't wait for me to order."

"Well, it would be pretty rude to order without you being here," you respond with a small smile, "Besides, I only got here about 10 minutes before you did. Really, you didn't keep me waiting long."

Mingi pointedly ignores the warmth he feels flooding his face.

Before he can respond, the waitress arrives to take your respective orders, and Mingi is fortunately saved from stumbling over his words infront of you. He got his usual order and made a note on your affinity for iced coffee. He had no idea why, it's not like he'd ever interact with you this way again.

"So, what's your username?" Is the first question you fire at him when the two of you are alone again, completely throwing him.

"Oh uh it's _song99_," he responds, sheepishly rubbing his neck.

"Oh! That's you? I see you all the time. I didn't realise you were such a big fan," you say with such genuine enthusiasm and a smile that Mingi can't really find it within himself to feel too embarrassed with you realising how much he enjoyed your content.

"Yeah, I found you when you were just starting out, and I really liked your videos. It kind of...snowballed from there," he says honestly.

"What about my content made you decide to stick around?" You ask curiously, tilting your head as you seem to truly size him up then.

He can feel the tips of his ears reddening. How is he supposed to explain to you that you had him wrapped around your finger the first time he saw you cum without sounding like a creepy weirdo?

"You seem like a sweet guy, Mingi. I doubt anything you're going to say anything that'll offend me," you say softly. The hesitance must've come off of him in waves.

"I like how genuine your videos and streams come across. I know this is your job, and maybe I'm protecting my fantasies onto you, but you don't seem insincere in your content. At least not to me. Also, your passion really shines through. It's pretty clear how much effort and thought you put into your video quality, your sets, your outfits, the...toys you use. You balance sincerity with professionalism really well," he says far more passionately than he perhaps meant to, studiously avoiding your gaze.

"Oh," is the first thing out of your mouth, and Mingi wishes the earth would open up and swallow him whole. He's such a fucking weirdo. Who gets that impassioned-

"That's probably the most thoughtful and sweet compliment anyone's ever given me about my content," you say, and he glances up at you only to be surprised at the shy look on your face. You were always so self-assured and confident, he doesn't remember ever seeing you look so bashful. Not even in your first videos.

"I really mean it. I can't speak for the other people who watch you obviously but, those are some reasons that immediately come to my mind when I think of why I choose to pay for your content," he says, butterflies erupting in his stomach when you give him a smaller smile but, it's blinding all the same.

The rest of your coffee...date? Mingi isn't exactly sure what to call it. A meeting feels entirely too formal, and the more delusional part of him likes the idea of it being a date. Either way, it went pretty well. You two talked extensively about boundaries and what was okay and what wasn't. He was proud of himself for only choking on his drink a total of four times, the worst being when you asked if he'd be comfortable with unprotected sex.

Hiding your amusement at his coughing fit terribly, you'd explained that those videos tend to perform really well, but you'd never push him if he was uncomfortable with it. You also added that you two would get full STD tests done beforehand.

Maybe Mingi was too infatuated with you and a fucking idiot but, it didn't take much beyond that to agree. Chugging his drink a little after that when he felt himself getting hard at the mere thought of feeling you directly.

Fuck, he hopes he doesn't embarrass himself by only lasting a few minutes.

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Mingi's heart is in his throat when he knocks on the door of the hotel room you booked for the...session. He offered to cover atleast half of it, but you waved him off, assuring him that it would fall under your business expenses. Still, he couldn't help feeling a little guilty about it.

When you open the door, he's sorely unprepared for the sight of you. The white top you're wearing leaves very little to the imagination, your nipples visible through the flimsy material as it essentially acts as a second skin. Your pastel pink skirt barely reaches your mid-thigh, hugging your waist in a way that makes Mingi feel dizzy.

He's seen you in various states of undress and fully naked online, but it doesn't come anywhere close to you in the flesh. He can already feel himself getting hard and heat rushing to his face.

"Mingi, hi," you say, sounding so genuinely enthusiastic to see him that it only worsens the butterflies already raging in his gut. "Hi y/n. It's good to see you again," he responds when his cognitive abilities return to him. Your delectable perfume invades his senses when you move aside to let him in, only further adding to his increasing delirium.

He finds himself growing a little nervous when he settles on the bed, so many different cameras pointed towards it. Towards him. Well, he did know you put a lot of effort into the shots you got, he just didn't realise how much effort.

"Hey, you don't have to be nervous. Just focus on me," you say softly, slotting yourself between his thighs and cupping his face to make him meet your warm eyes.

God, this must be so easy for you, and here he is already floundering because you smell great and look even better.

"Is this okay? We don't have to do anything you don't want to," you say when he doesn't respond to your words or your touch. He needs to get his shit together.

Tentatively, his hands reach towards your waist, excitement outweighing anxiety for once when his fingers partially brush your soft skin. "Yeah, sorry. I'm okay. I think I'm just a little nervous, and I started to feel intimidated by the cameras," he says, deciding that being honest with you would probably be for the best.

"It is intimidating in the beginning, but you get used to it. Plus, hopefully, I'll provide enough of a distraction that you'll forget about the cameras," you respond playfully, your thumb absentmindedly stroking his cheek. A shudder runs down his spine and straight to his cock, "Yeah, I'm sure I'll forget about them in no time."

"Is it okay if I kiss you?" You ask, your eyes considerably darker than they were moments ago. Your thumb now running itself just below his bottom lip.

Mingi nods dumbly, unintentionally tightening his grip around your waist when you shift even closer to him, practically in his lap. "When I ask you a question, I expect a verbal response," you say with a soft, commanding edge to your voice, lidded eyes focusing in on his mouth.

He hopes you don't feel the shiver that runs through his body. "Yes, you may kiss me," he whispers, his hands shaking slightly. "Good boy," Mingi doesn't have much time to dwell on how those particular words make the tightening in his boxers worse because you press a soft kiss against his lips seconds later.

He can't help the quiet moan that slips from his lips at the contact. You're so much softer than he imagined you'd be. You taste better than anything his mind could come up with by a long shot. Without much conscious thought, his grip on your waist tightening. Pulling you closer until you're straddling him, panty covered slit mere centimetres from his crotch.

"So-sorry, I just got excited," he mutters when he's able to pull away from your addictive mouth. The little giggle you give him in response does funny things to his heart, "Mingi, it's okay. You getting excited is a good thing. A great thing, actually," you respond. He clenches his jaw when you settle yourself in his lap, the pressure your weight provides makes his cock throb almost painfully.

It's made all the more worse when your hips roll against him experimentally, the friction resulting in him groaning against your lips and his hands desperately flying to your hips. "You're so cute," you say breathlessly, dotting his jaw with featherlight kisses as you seemingly find a rhythm you like. The praise goes straight to his dick. Pre-cum dribbling out and smearing his boxers as his cheeks flush red.

"You're so pretty," his muddled brain supplies as a response. His hands digging into your hips at a particularly hard grind you give him and the peaks of your pink panties he's able to see underneath your skirt.

He's startled when you push him down flat on his back. The look in your eyes borders on predatory as your toy with the hem of his shirt. "Cute and sweet? I got lucky, huh," you muse. Mingi is pretty sure his blush is all the way down to his neck at this point.

"Is it okay if I take this off?" You ask.

He tries his best to swallow down his self-consciousness, "Yeah, it's okay."

You tug at his shirt so impatiently that he's briefly concerned that you might rip in the process. Not that he'd really mind. He'd happily let you tear all of his clothes off of him.

"You're so hot," you practically moan when his bare torso is laid out for you to see, lightly dragging your fingertips down his chest. His cock throbs at the compliment and he barely mutters out a thank you. Honestly, your praise is doing fantastic things for his self-esteem.

Shudders run down his spine from every drag of your nails against his skin. Leaving faint, pink marks, and goosebumps in their wake. You lean down to kiss his jaw as your hands toy with his belt. Mingi feels like all he can do is lie here and let you do whatever you want with him. His hands gripping your hips for purchase all the while.

"I want to suck you off. May I?"

Mingi is pretty sure his vision blurs for a moment. Not entirely sure if he heard you correctly.

"You don't have to," he retorts without much of a second thought. Meaning it.

"You sweet man," you say with a smile, giving him a quick peck on the lips, "I know I don't have to. Do I strike you as the kind of woman who does things she doesn't want to?"

Well, you have a point there.

"No," he responds shyly, "but is okay if I eat you out?"

That catches you off-guard, and you look down at him in slight surprise for a moment.

"Sure," you finally respond, and he doesn't fail to notice the slight breathy edge to your voice. It's good to know he isn't the only one affected by all of this.

"I can sit on your face while I suck you off. If that's okay with you?"

Mingi almost grits his teeth from how hard his cock throbs from your words. The prospect of you sitting on his face sending his world spinning.

"Yeah fuck, yeah it's okay with me," he breathes out.

You give him one more peck on the lips before shuffling off of him, and Mingi bites back the whine on the tip of his tongue at the loss of your warmth. However, his eyes remain focused on you when he watches you tug your panties down your plush thighs. Arousal punching him in the gut when he notices the wet spot on your panties and the peaks he catches of your pussy when your skirt rides up.

He's elated to know he's not the only one into this.

He's completely breathless watching you strip naked infront of him. Your hypnotic tits bouncing and jiggling as you shimmy out of your skirt. Fuck. Fuck, you're too much for him.

You shoot him another of those seductive yet somehow sweet smiles before positioning yourself over his face. The sight of your bare, wet, swollen pussy sends lightning straight down his spine to his cock. It throbs painfully just from taking you in.

He's brought out of his stupor when feels your hands tug his boxers and jeans down. Anxiety seizing him for a moment when he considers how you might react to seeing him fully naked. Would you think his dick was ugly? Too small? Curved weirdly?

"Oh," is all he hears you utter for a moment, and he tenses. "I'm definitely going to have fun with you," he moans, and his hips jerk into your touch when your much smaller hand attempts to wrap around him. Wanting to even the playing field a little here, his tongue takes his first taste of you.

The soft moan you let out goes straight to his dick and, he's half sure you feel him throb in your grasp. That doesn't matter, however, because you taste better than he imagined. Your taste and scent enveloping his senses and making his mind feel hazier than it already was.

His hands grip your thighs then and firmly press you to his mouth. Eagerly lapping and sucking on your clit while occasionally dipping lower and, tasting your dripping wetness directly.

"Mingi," you cry out, your hand weakly stroking his cock and sending sparks throughout his body. It's made all the worse when you kitten lick his tip, your tongue and warm breaths making his hips buck up into you. Before he can apologise, you decide to take him in your mouth fully. Well, as far as you can. Your hand continuing to stroke the rest of him.

It's Mingi's turn to falter now. A drawn out groan falling from his lips and into your soaking slit as you suck him off with so much determination that he's actually worried he'll cum briefly. The sounds of you gagging on him filling the room and, only adding to his approaching climax.

He's not sure if you just have a sixth sense for this kind of thing or if he's just that easy to read but, you ease off of him then. Giving his tip one last kiss before speaking, "Not that I wouldn't love to feel you cum down my throat but, I'd much rather feel you cum inside of me."

His fingers dig into your soft thighs. Cock throbbing in your hold as your words wash over him.

Mingi is quickly discovering that the view of you straddling him might just be his new favourite ever. Your pretty tits jiggling with every movement you make briefly distracting him. He feels himself tense when you grab his cock in your soft hand, sending him a devious smile before you slowly start to sink down onto him.

He knows he should be more careful and considerate, but his hold on your hips is harsh and bruising from the get-go. His eyes rolling into the back of his head as your tight walls cling to his dick so fiercely that he's briefly worried he really might just cum in a few minutes. The whines and breathy moans that fall from your lips as you try to adjust to the stretch he provides only makes matters worse.

"Ah Mingi, you're so d-deep," you stutter out, fingernails biting into the skin of his abdomen.

His hips impulsively thrust up into you, both of you moaning at the sensations it provides, "Fu-fuck, sorry," he groans out. He knows you need time to adjust but, he's not sure how long he can stay still without completely losing his sanity.

"It's okay," you pant out, slowly lifting yourself off of him before sinking down. Your nails leaving more faint, red traces in their wake as you find your pace on top of him. He's too entranced to do anything but, watch as you fuck yourself on him. Your pretty face contorted in pleasure, and he internally preens with pride. That confidence is shaken moments later, however, when he takes in how your breast bounce and how most of his cock disappears inside of you.

"You look so beautiful," he says, becoming too lost in the pleasure, too lost in you to really care anymore. "You feel so good too, fuck," he groans, one of his hands drifting to one of your breasts and toying with your hardened nipple.

The way you clench around him at the contact makes his head spin.

"You feel good too, Mingi," you cry out, "You're so big and deep." He shuts his eyes, cock throbbing harshly inside of you as he tries to gain his bearings. He isn't going to cum without making you cum first. He has to feel you cum on his dick.

Maybe it's the determination to make you cum or maybe he's too far gone to be self-conscious anymore, whatever it is makes him sit up and take one of your tempting nipples in his mouth. Moaning against you when you let out a startled gasp and your immaculate pussy clamps down on him once more. Your hands desperately cling to his shoulders and hair, mewing softly as he sucks and licks to his heart's content.

His teeth nearly sink into you when he feels you cum around him. Velvety walls gripping him so harshly that he can barely move. Your hands keeping him pressed to your fantastic tits, not that he was planning on going anywhere anytime soon. It really doesn't take much more than that for him to join you. His moans muffled by your skin as he holds onto you fiercely. His cock sheathed to the brim inside of you as he paints your walls white.

Your stuttered cry of his name only emboldens him further. One of his hands slipping between your bodies in search of your clit. From the way you tighten around him and tug on his hair, he guesses he's found it. Experimenting with which speed and pattern draws the best reactions out of you.

Mingi loosens his grip on you then. Your shared, laboured breathing filling the hotel room as you all but, crumple on top of him.

"Maybe I should ask you to feature in more of my videos," you muse against his shoulder once you've mostly come back to yourself.

He feels his face warm considerably, "I guess that means you had a good time?"

You cup his jaw then, making him meet your intense but still somehow mischievous gaze, "Mingi, I haven't cum that hard in who knows how long. I can barely get up."

If he hadn't cum literally minutes ago, he'd probably be hard enough to cut diamond right now. He's sure this'll bolster his ego for at least a good five years.

"I um I'm glad you enjoyed it," so much for that confidence, he supposes.

"If you keep being so cute I might have to fuck you again," you tease but, he senses that you aren't fully joking around. Well, he has the whole day free and who is he to say no, really? He wouldn't want your other fans to be disappointed after all.

#song mingi smut #mingi smut #ateez smut

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