#[she’s just made of itty bitty cracks in marble.]

[godblooded]

if the world is full of colors and sounds, if the universe is louder to see and too vivacious to feel, where prior it was horrifying now it’s almost comforting ; it feels like the first time things have ever made perfect sense. it feels like the first time she’s ever delivered herself wholly to someone else and not been afraid, afraid, afraid.

good girl. she feels her thighs shiver, shudder, clench the very second they’re parted. there’s a tension across her shoulders that presses them into her own mattress, back arching. achilliean, olympian, that body’s been an instrument of so many assassinations ; dynasties have quietly crumbled beneath her heels, whether she’s spilt the blood or forced the weapon into another’s hand. if she bares throat, she bares throat, that pretty marble column decorated with those thinning red slashes quieting against her skin over time.

her swallow is so great that it morphs and twists into a weak gasp the minute she feels the friction. it’s high and fluttery and soft and squeaky all at the same time. she’s trying to take everything in the best stride she can, and there’s that drop in her stomach, an elevator ten or so floors that dangles before an abyss.

she kisses her because selina needs an anchor and in that tossing storm her mind becomes sombra is a very neon light. it makes her breathe deeper, quieter, bearing down against that thigh with another moan.

“ just — both. fuck me with your fingers, your mouth— “

her grip tightens. she’s all muscle, contradictory to her whines.

“ please. ”

Keep reading

[royal-writer]

Who’s to blame but you

and you alone

Cradling the newborn in her arms, Essätha’s memories flashed through a dozen thoughts. Moving a mile a minute, her gaze grew unfocused as she swayed the sleeping swaddle back and forth. The muted words of an old lullaby traced her lips, hardly whispered as they walked the room.

“’Sibby, daddy and I have been talking… What do you think about being a big sister?”

The child’s pale golden-brown eyes grew wider and wider as she stared up at her. She could swear there were flecks of hazel in them, but it seemed to pass and emerge depending on the lighting.

Hepsiba reached up for her hand, mesmerized.

“Like my dolly Amelie and auntie Josie gave to me?”

With a secret little smile, Essie gave a shake of her head as she laughed.

“Not exactly, my little viper. I mean being a real big sister, to a little baby. Like how mommy carried you in her tummy.”

“Mommy, that’s silly,” the youngster giggled. Her voice turned to a whisper, as if telling a secret as she added on, “You can’t poo a baby.”

Oh, the sweet innocence of childhood. Lady Illiad snickered, resting a hand through the wild curls of the child’s hair. It was denser than her own; in thickness and in tight coils, and still had more of shiny jet-black like Amon’s than her flatter ebony tones and hues.

Hesitating for a moment, she tried a different approach, keeping her voice tender: “Would you like the idea, of having a brother or a sister?”

Picking up her baby doll from the nearby sofa, Hepsiba showed it to her with a large grin. The hair had recently brushed, and was now voluminous and poofy. There was a slight chip in her chin from when she’d been dropped and repaired, but it still couldn’t disguise the ‘scar’. It was a mark ‘Sibby frequently enjoyed comparing to her mother and father’s scars, treating the slight crack like a norm rather than a bane.

“Yes!” she declared, crushing the toy to her chest. “Then we could play dress up! And I’ll get to brush their hair.”

Tears blurred Essätha’s vision. Bending down low, she pressed a kiss over the girl’s forehead gently as she stroked her unmanageable locks out of her face. All the while the child giggled, and in her heart she knew that Hepsiba was going to be an excellent big sister. And as parents, Amon and herself would all do their part in sharing the love, and making sure their current only child never felt overshadowed by the future arrival.

She shuffled the length of the room a few more times, making sure that the child’s breathing had eased into a full and deep slumber. She no longer twitched her little fingers, or blinked those dark eyes up at her. Her tiny chest rose and fell, rose and fell all safely snuggled in the cloth wrapped carefully around her petite and fragile body.

Making her way back around again, Essie approached the edge of the crib. Lightly, hoping not to wake the babe, her lips brushed lightly to their forehead. They did not stir then, or as she leaned over the lowered side to rest their new precious wonder against the mattress. Her eyebrows knitted, showing creases of concern despite her smile.

Weathered palms traced over her hands. They grabbed at her own, released them, and would do so again. Fingers dancing against her skin; spiraling little flames where they touched.

She looked deeply into the man’s regard. It moved over her, studying her complexion seriously but not without a deep and warming respect.

“I am not afraid any longer,” she scoffed, a bold smile on her face. “I gave birth to one brilliant little girl. She’s smart and lovely as you. I made it through birthing her, and I can make it through another.”

In a spur of excitement, she grabbed hold of his face so suddenly that the nobleman gave a startled gasp. She kissed him; rough and filled with anticipation.

He groaned, grabbing for her. Anywhere. Everywhere. Gentle but frantic fingers tugging at her, trying to meld her into his skin.

“We do not have to do this,” he quipped, panting into the columns of her throat as she dove for his slacks. “You do not have to-”

“What is the matter, m’lord Amon? Is it that you do not want me? Or is that you do not want another child-”

“I do not want you to feel you are obligated, my Lady.”

She paused; fingers between his skin and his pants. The heavy, ragged sound of Amon’s hunger still ragged against her flesh as he sat immobilized like a statue in her grip, waiting verdict.

With a purr in her voice; silken and alluring, she whispered close to his ear: “I know you do not demand this of me. I want this. I want you. I want another squealing tiny babe filled with unique charms and delights, and for ‘Sibby to have a sibling. I love to be a mother, and I would be honored to carry another child for us both and to raise another. But only if you’re sure too.”

All was quiet. She was given the time to nibble her lip, wondering if he would ever answer. They were locked against each other; his heartbeat still thunder against her chest yet he was marble. Unyielding, firm, and patient.

After what felt like a lifetime, his hips rolled against hers and she mewled hopefully to the bulge in his trousers teasing her panties.

“I am more than ready to be a father to another of our children, Essie. I just needed to know, that you were sure. I would be happy with just our sweet Hepsiba. I would be happy sharing an entire home filled with many pairs of little feet. But only if you are sure. Carrying a child, delivering one…”

“I can handle it.”

“I know you can, darling. But the experience of delivery is not altogether pleasant.”

“I am ready to go through it again. The first is always the most difficult they say, anyway.”

Essätha whimpered, swallowing back a moan. Her body slid against Lord Amon’s, making him grunt against her throat as he sucked on her skin.

“Ooooh, gods, m’lord,” she whimpered, latching a hand into his hair as the other snaked between his drawers.

A deep, guttural growl of approval answered her. With a twist of his hips and hands smothering her close, they fell into the sheets, with her straddling him from atop.

Essie finally took hold bars, and slid the side up to latch it into place. Her troubled eyes moving over the child as they rested comfortably, oblivious to the world. The perfect shape of their itty bitty nose, and mouth parting a little before they’d close it as they dreamed away. Or, at least she liked to believe they were dreaming.

Droning in the back of her throat a soothing tune, she adjusted the snugness of the blanket. A clenched little fist poked out from the side a bit as they slept deeply. Still so new too the world, and completely exhausted.

The sound of the bedroom door clicked shut, and the quiet padding of bare feet moved silently through the room and towards her.

“I got Hepsiba to sleep,” Amon spoke up quietly, adding on a bit sheepishly, “she might have fallen asleep before I finished her book. I was so invested, I managed to finish the chapter before realizing she was already out. Guess I’ll need to reread some of it to… to…”

His voice disappeared gradually, as he made his way to her side. She was, to him, as easy to read as any book. The distraught was clear to him, beneath the marginal excuse for a veil she put up. The expression was not well hidden, but from the sinking of her eyelids to the flatness of her lips, he could spot her deception well.

“I’m sure she loved it, m’lord.”

It was quiet. Her beloved Lord stepped closer to his side. His cheek nuzzled hers; whiskers tickling her face. The bracing of a strong arm wound around her waist, and anchored to her waist. The softness of his breath exhaled close to her face as he joined her in looking over the edge of the crib to their latest family member.

“Our daughter is so beautiful, Essätha,” he whispered into her hair. “Just like her mother.”

A sad, ghostly smile tugged on the corners of her lips. “She is. A lovely addition to the family, m’lord Amon. ‘Sibby adores her too, although I feel it will take her a while still to quite get the name right.”

Amon’s voice wavered just a little as he murmured, “Isabelle Marie Illiad. I don’t suppose, Izzy, or Belle might substitute for a while. Until she gets the hang of it.”

“Belle,” Essie stated; her voice suggesting an afterthought. “I like Belle.”

From the corner of her eyes, she could make out Amon’s darting over her. There was concern written all over his features as he leaned away from her. His hand circled against her hip. Drawing warmth into her body, and leaning her closer into the security of his chest.

She accepted the invitation gratefully. Resting her head against his shoulder, she joined him in wrapping an arm against his waist as well. She hesitated once or twice; trying to find the words and then swallowing them down again. His patience was a saintly virtue, and he waited with a calm and knowing silence to let her find the time, and way to speak her worries without judgment or pushing.

“… She’s a Yuan-Ti, Amon,” she finally sighed. Her eyes moved over the dark patches of scales on the child’s face, and those upon her fist peeking out from beneath the covers. There were lighter in color than her own, not that it meant much. Her own pattern had changed in spectrum the older she got; darkening.

His fingers squeezed into her side. Saying nothing; like he could feel in the air she had more to say. And the words came. Faint; filled with fright and a deep, cold worry hazed with sadness. A sadness that branched from ugly little thoughts and lonely frigid recollections.

“I can’t protect her forever from what people are going to say to her; they things they might accuse her of just for existing and being who she is…”

She loved her. She loved her with all her heart; with all her being just as much in every what that she did her precious Hepsiba and beloved Amon. There was nothing she would not do for them; no fight she would turn away from. They meant more anything ever could to her. Her breath, her food, the water she drank, the energy and vibrant life she had, ever bit of it she’d give up without a second thought to keep them safe and happy.

They were her family; her children, her husband. The most dear people to her soul. Each of them was perfect just as they were. Wise, pretty, crazy, strong, and unique. Her world revolved around them; her cluster of suns that brightened her day.

But no matter how gorgeous Isabelle was, she knew the heartache of the world. People could be vile, nasty, and judgmental. First-hand experience had taught her much of that.

Though the silence stretched on for what felt like a lifetime in her buzzing thoughts of fear and agony, Amon was steady. With both arms wrapped around her, he squeezed her into his embrace firmly. His lips he pressed over the crown of her head, rocking them back and forth as they looked down at their resting little girl.

With a voice gentle and full of affection and acceptance, he uttered low: “She’ll be beautiful, strong, and courageous, like her mother.”

Her eyelids drooped. Her mouth shook, and she gripped her fingers into the back of her Lord’s shirt. Grateful for his sturdy, unwavering support but no less concerned.

“I don’t want her to have to be strong in such ways,” she choked miserably.

“Ess’…”

“It isn’t fair. She’s my child, my love, and I did this to her-”

“Don’t,” Amon rumbled; his voice deep. The authority in it quelled her words, before too much of them could leak out of the cracks in her heart and soul. She was left to swallow repeatedly on the lump in her throat. If not for the strong arms supporting her, she feared she may have collapsed.

He massaged deep into the tissue of her back beneath her blouse. He placed his cheek on the top of her head and moved them side to side. Calm. Serene. Patient as he waited, and listened to her hitching breath as she wrapped up her emotions before they could spiral her into a black hole. No tears, but dry sobs that shook in her chest until they began to ease, leaving only a dull ache in their place.

“Our Belle is beautiful, Essie,” he whispered. “There is not a single thing wrong with her. Pretending that there is, is like saying there is something wrong with her mother. Look at her, darling. Do you think she’s perfect?”

Unburying her face from against Amon’s, Essätha glanced back down to the sleeping face of their precious Isabelle. The thin trails of dark fuzz on top of her head were peeking out just beneath the blanket she lay curled up in a tight ball within.

With a nod, she rasped with emotion: “She’s a little angel.”

“She’s exactly that,” Amon agreed. “Isabelle is flawless, just like you. Just like ‘Sibby. Those scales came from you, just like they yours came from your mother, and so on. There’s nothing wrong with them. She has a brilliant and capable mother, who can teach her how to handle the sort of power she’s been granted. She has a piece of you, and your mother. Belle will be fine. She has you; she has us.”

The Lady of the Emerald Expanse nodded mutely against her husband’s collarbone. She laxed the death-grip of her fingers from the back of his shirt, and slowly rubbed them over his back. The same comforting gesture he gave her. Warming her with deep, steady strokes up and down her spine.

“We’ve only just met her. Give her time to grow and develop; discover what she’s like, who she becomes. She’ll always have a safe haven here,” Amon murmured gently, kissing her forehead.

He was right. Of course he was right. She was placing her fears, her experiences, her past into this poor child. Her life had been different. Scorned and ridiculed in a city that did not understand her; growing up lost and unsure where it was safe to plant her feet.

Isabelle would not have that. She had her family, the wait staff. She had Briarton, which had accepted one scaly and bizarre woman with curiosity and eventual enthusiasm once they got to know her. The Emerald Expanse would always be safe to her. The White Moors would be just as safe.

She could have a fearless life. A bold life. A different, pleasant and happy life. She could grow strong, and make her own choices. Her family would be with her and behind her. Whatever she may encounter, or what she may need, they would be there.

Put a little at ease, for now at least, Essätha relaxed to Amon’s hold. The tension in her body gradually evaporated into nothingness as he held her close.

They stared down at their sleeping babe in silence. A promise of the future. A promise in their hearts that no matter what, nothing would ever break their child’s spirit or damage whoever she may want to become. It was her life; her world now, and there would be no stopping a Meduza-Illiad child. Or god rest the soul that ever tried.