A Long Time Ago There Was A World Where Women Ruled The Countries And Kept Society Alive. This Is A Collection

“A long time ago there was a world where women ruled the countries and kept society alive. This is a collection of strong, powerful women and the men they chose as their companion.” 

Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Smut

a/n: I decided to give my Queendom Series an official name. You can find all the oneshots I wrote about this universe here. They can all be read as individual pieces, however they are all connected with each other one way or the other. I hope you guys enjoy reading them! 💜

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so apparently i found this deep in the bowels of my camera roll on my phone while cleaning it up and it’s an ss from reddit. obviously idk how to send this ss to you but let me just copy-paste what’s in it:

“Sex workers of reddit: What is the saddest experience (client wise) you've had while on the job?

Not my story but I knew a girl who did "rent a night" type of stuff.

Guy asks her if she could come over. Doesn't talk about sex over the phone just if she could come over and to come hungry. She thinks he is into feeding or some shit. She arrives at like 6 p.m., pretty early for her work. She asks what he would like to do. He just cooks for her. A really big delicious meal. Later he starts to open up: his wife had passed and always loved his cooking, but he hates cooking for himself.”

if you were to write a fic based off of this, which member do you see would fit the role of the guy? it’s so sad… hope whoever this guy is has found a second chance at happiness 😣

Agh, this was absolutely touching. Thank you for sharing this, anon! Here's what came to mind. 

For Two

Pairings: Yoongi x Reader

Rating: 13+ / PG-13

Word Count: 1.4k | read on ao3

Content Warnings, Themes, & More Info: Allusions to chronic illness, death, loneliness, and sex work.

That scent again. Lemon Pledge. Enough of it to bounce the overhead Edison bulb's shine to make a glint in your eye. Which sharpens when you finally ask.

"...Why?"

It's not like you to ask why. Who, what, where, when, and how cover the basics. Besides, after years in the business, you can usually deduce why simply by the nature of the request. 

But not once in all these years have you received a request like this.

"I mean, it's been months," you backtrack, in an attempt to retroactively preface, "and dinner is always great, believe me, I'm not complaining by any means, I just..."

The kitchen faucet turns on. A gentle trickle. Subdued. Still cleansing, but not above your voice. Background noise rather than signal.

You smile to yourself, feeling safe to keep your eyes on his back while you continue with, "I know these evenings mean something to you. Believe me. In my line of work. I know this is a band-aid, or an escape, or a playground. All three, more often than not. I'm just... Like, if you're looking for someone to talk about it with..." Your eyes latch on as his elbows start to move, fingers working a soapy sponge into nooks and crannies. "I dunno, I guess I'm saying that---" Your eyebrows flick up. "I'm here to listen--- Hey, are you sure I can't help with the dishes or something?"

Loyal customers are surprisingly routined, even with their fetishes. Especially so. When you started your career, you assumed that so much of your work would be propelled by happenstance, fleeting moments that overwhelmed someone enough to be in search of you. Now, you know that for many of your clients, it takes forethought. There are systems in place. Languages to learn. And, in some ways, it becomes easier to indulge in those fantasies when you find someone who will help you figure out exactly where and when and how you will get to. When you feel safe.

So it doesn't surprise you when his ear turns at the sound of you scraping your chair back, body lifting with every intention of joining him at the sink. And it doesn't surprise you when he counters with a pleasant but firm, "No, I'm alright here. Thank you."

It doesn't even register anymore. With no more than that to go off every week, you realize that curiosity has evolved into charm has evolved into concern. You realize that you're not actually asking him why. You're asking if he feels safe.

He glances over his shoulder at you. A quick peek. A flashed smile. "How about you try that dessert?"

It's not a hard thing for you to do, you happily think, as you sit back down and reaquaint yourself with the banana bread pudding. You grin as you take a spoonful, crowning it with the caramel ice cream on the side. But you keep your eyes on his back as you do.

Once the dishes from the main course are clean, he takes a deep and satisfied breath, places his hands on his hips, arches back, cricks his neck, and shakes his head as he removes his rubber gloves.

He turns around and is thrilled to see that nearly half of the banana bread pudding is gone.

Feeling slightly guilty, you keep your spoon in your mouth.

"It's for you!" he laughs, walking back over to the table and taking his seat, "Please. Have as much as you like. There's more in the fridge."

You look down at the other, still-clean spoon in the bowl. And then you look back up at him.

"Alright, alright," he says, smiling slightly, as he leans forward for the spoon.

You take another dollop, and he gently scrapes along the sides.

You still want to know why.

Why weekly dinners. Why just dinner. Why just dinner when you know you could be doing so much more for him.

Is it you?

And does he even want more than this from you?

Maybe if you break down the "why"s. Like---

"Why banana bread pudding?" you ask.

He blinks. "Huh?"

"What made you think to make banana bread pudding?" You shrug and reach for your glass of water. "Or anything? Why did you decide on seaweed salad and spicy pork belly and banana bread pudding?"

His smile goes a little funny. "Uh," he laughs, "I dunno... I was craving seaweed salad, and when I was at the store, I saw the pork belly cuts, and I thought of this really great spice blend I had here at home..."

His eyes go a little foggy. "And then I thought it might be nice to have something sweeter for dessert to balance that out... But it's also still a little cool outside, so I wanted something warm..."

His lips widen a little more freely. "Then I looked up and realized I had somehow made it over to the produce section, and the bananas on display were overripe." 

You gawk at him. And as you dig into the pudding again, you mutter, "Ugh. That's so cool."

He smiles. He tilts his head. He goes in for more caramel ice cream. "It is?"

"I don't know the first thing about cooking," you say, treats pushed into your left cheek. "Anyone who can do it is a magician. And you---" Your eyes meet his. "You might be a god, y'know, just---" You wave your spoon around in the air. "---divining a menu like that!"

He licks his spoon clean. "Well. When you put it that way."

You switch sides, and he follows your lead, building bigger and bigger bites of banana bread and taller and taller tiaras of ice cream.

Your spoon clinks against the bowl when you ask, "Why do you wash the dishes before we finish dessert?" you ask. 

He takes a moment to swallow his spoonful. He licks his lips, more nooks and crannies to clean. And then he seems to decide something. His shoulders ease. His eyes widen with newfound clarity. His entire aura softens.

"Dessert is a treat," he says. "It's a good note to end on."

"Wait, so you leave the dishes for the next day?" you clarify.

"Who wants to do dishes after having dessert?" he asks.

You find yourself laughing. "That's so true!"

He chuckles along with you, setting his spoon face down on the lip of the bowl, the end of the handle balancing on the tabletop. 

"...That’s something that she used to say a lot."

His face shows no sharp angles. No shadows. No walls.

So you ask. 

"Why do you invite me over for... dinner?"

When he hesitates, you try to hold onto the in that you think you've found. "I'm so happy that you invite me. I'm just wondering if I can make the experience better for you. Help you ease into things. I’m open."

"Ah," he says with a knowing smile. "No need. It's actually not about sex at all."

You'd better pay attention. You have so much to learn.

"I was married," he says. He looks a little paler all of a sudden. "She, uh, died... about a year ago..."

You nod softly, your breaths a little jagged.

"She was sick. Lots of stuff. All these meds and..." He stares at the end of his spoon, still balancing on the tabletop. And then he smiles. "Y'know, even after she couldn't eat solid foods anymore, she still insisted I make her a plate."

He lifts his eyes to meet your teary ones.

"I was actually really excited to bust out those spices," he says, making you laugh.

Both of you relish a little in the warm whisky of the Edison bulb glow.

"What should I make next week?" he asks, sitting up a little. 

"Oh, no, don't ask me," you say, dabbing your eyes with the back of one hand while sticking your spoon in the ice cream and waving him off with the other. "Not getting in the way of whatever mystical thing you do."

He laughs and says, "OK, well, tell me something that might guide me. You have any taste preferences? Craving anything in particular?"

You have an idea. You don't know if it'd be pushing too far. But now that you understand more of the why, you're getting a better picture of the whats and hows.

"How about you make something that's tied to a happy memory?" you ask. "You can tell me more about her."

He brightens. Maybe not like dawn breaking. More like light creeping, sun returning after a thunderstorm.

He lets you help him place the last few dishes in the sink. And then he walks you to the door with a grateful smile.

You reach out for your customary handshake.

He takes your palm in his.

"Goodnight, Yoongi," you say.

When you give his hand a warm squeeze, he squeezes back.

this is the channel! despite all the videos they privated there are still plenty that are up.

bts ff plagarism on youtube.

after seeing the posts about @deepdarkdelights & @bang-tan-bitches fics being stolen for this person’s (bts mafia ff) youtube channel, i went digging to try and find more. so far i’ve only found two by @jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue.  this drabble of theirs was used for this video. | this jimin drabble was used for this video.  i think it’s fairly obvious that a majority of their “fics” are stolen as the writing style changes between many of their videos. i couldn’t recognize some of them, so perhaps if you see this take a look at their channel and see if you can spot any?

bts ff plagarism on youtube.

after seeing the posts about @deepdarkdelights & @bang-tan-bitches fics being stolen for this person’s (bts mafia ff) youtube channel, i went digging to try and find more. so far i’ve only found two by @jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue.  this drabble of theirs was used for this video. | this jimin drabble was used for this video.  i think it’s fairly obvious that a majority of their "fics” are stolen as the writing style changes between many of their videos. i couldn’t recognize some of them, so perhaps if you see this take a look at their channel and see if you can spot any?

My Cruel Kidnapper

Disclaimer & Chapters.

Summary: He's irrational, violent, terrifying and worst of all completely obsessed with you. Meet your cruel kidnapper.

Trigger warning: Swearing, violence, non-con, abuse, kidnapping, imprisonment, and similar things that are not intended for the easily offended. Each chapter will have individual TWs.

IMPORTANT A/N: This is a detailed dark and violent non-con yandere story. Please do not read if you are sensitive to any of the above warnings. 18+ readers only.

Also, please note this is not a love story. I am going to say that again in bold for the people who will skip this section and then end up complaining in the comments: This is not a love story. If you want the bad guy to turn good in the end, there are an endless amount of those stories out there, so go pick one.

Okay, all the disclaimers are done, I hope you enjoy! xxx

💜💜💜

Chapters

Chapter one: Abduction

Chapter two: Bound

Chapter three: The Question

Chapter four: Markings

Chapter five: On your knees

Chapter six: Helpless

Chapter seven: Opportune

Happy reading,

raggaraddy

💜💜💜

All That Glitters | Jimin x Reader

Pairing: Soft(ish) Yandere Jimin x  Reader 

Word Count: 19k

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Obsession, Fear, Non-Consensual Touching, Symptoms of Panic/Anxiety, Stalking, Murder, Blood, Abandonment Issues, Attempted Sexual Assault (Not By Jimin), Tsundere Reader, Insinuation of Smut (It’s spicy just not very descriptive),Bullying 

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals. 

Preview: With the sudden news that you are set to inherit a fortune after the passing of a distant relative you are ready to become an heiress. The only problem is that there is a clause in the contract: in order to receive your inheritance you must be married. So, who better to marry than your high school stalker?

A/N: It’s 3 in the morning and I’m exhausted. This is still the condensed version of the fic. I should have just made it a two part series. Let me know if you would prefer if I cut this fic in half and post them as two parts, whatever is more digestible. Okay, I love you, I can’t wait to see you in the comments and my inbox 💜💜💜

Note: It is not specified where the fic takes place, the school system suggests South Korea but the MC’s job suggests America (the job is a vent piece about my old job) so let’s pretend this stupid car wash chain exists in SK 😂

You let out a deep, tired sigh as you toed your shoes off. Everything was hurting from the arches of your feet to the bend of your shoulders. 

Each day had become utterly boring and utterly the same. It had been another long day of work, longer than you had ever imagined in your youth. When you were younger you had expected so much more of yourself. You had thought by now, at the ripe age of twenty-six, you would have had a high power career, an apartment with a view of the city, and perhaps a boyfriend…or two. 

But life had punched you square in the gut and body slammed you with a reality check. You had spent four years in undergrad slowly accumulating mass amounts of student debt before deciding you hadn’t had enough and wasted four more years in graduate school. You had been lulled into a false sense of comfort. All your life you had been told that you were to go to college, get a degree, and then get a “real” job. You had been dismayed to learn that despite all of your efforts you never secured a job for yourself after graduation. 

In fact, even now you didn’t have the job you had worked so hard for. Instead, you were busting your ass working a minimum wage job catering to ungrateful customers who had been fortunate enough to enter the job market twenty or even thirty years before you who all believed that they deserved your undivided attention and service. 

You were just barely managing nowadays. Your apartment was more of a closet than an apartment. Everything was confined to one room, kitchen, dining, and bedroom, all except for the bathroom. You had a faucet that never stopped leaking and the oddest stains on the wall that you refused to question anymore. To put it plain and simple, you were fucking miserable. 

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