#{{ dear lord she's so tiny to them.. }}

[esotericdogboy]

something something jon, martin, and jonah chillin in the puter but now they’re shimejis. is this anything

[prythianpages]

A Field of Dandelions | Azriel

azriel x green witch reader | Your High Lady calls upon you. requesting a remedy that only you know how to make. It requires specific ingredients found between the courts of spring and autumn and you're in need of an escort. Unfortunately for you, she assigns her Shadowsinger to accompany you. The Shadowsinger who hates you...or so you thought.

“Please don’t talk to me like that.”

“Why?”

“It’s cruel and heartless and you don’t even realize.”

warnings: angst but with fluff at the end, mentions of self-hate/abuse. pretty much Azriel thinking he's not worthy of a mate.

a/n: I've been re-reading the Shatter Me series and there's a scene between Aaron and Juliette that drove me to make this along with the song Dandelions by Ruth B. The dialogue above is directly from the book Unravel Me. I used them as a writing prompt along with the general gist of the scene and added my own twist to it. I just wanted to put that disclaimer out there.

The door opens before you can even knock and your dear friend and High Lady pulls you into a warm hug. She beckons you inside with a smile and your eyes dart around the various paintings adorning the walls, finding that some are new.

Surprise etches onto your features when your eyes land on the Night Court’s Spymaster. He stands at the end of one of the winding staircases with his usual stoic expression. Still as devastatingly handsome as always. You drop your gaze as quickly as you had met his and if he notices it, he doesn’t let it show. He doesn’t seem to acknowledge your presence.

Your ears pick up on faint crying. It grows louder and louder. Turning your head toward the source, your eyes land on Nyx. Despite being in the comfort of his father’s arms, his little features contort in pain. You greet your High Lord with a bow of your head, noticing the exhaustion on his face that mirrors Feyre’s.

“Is Mor on her way?” You ask, adjusting the strap of your bag. It’s full with all necessary tools and equipment you need for your venture.

Feyre had requested if you could make a tonic to sooth Nyx’s aches while he’s teething but your apothecary shop was unfortunately out of the main ingredient. Dandelion root. Not just any dandelion root but the ones that grow in the soil between the courts of Spring and Autumn and given the current tensions in Prythian and your status as a former Spring court inhabitant, it was not safe for you to go alone.

“Oh,” Feyre says as she takes the babe into her arms. You coo at Nyx and he blinks up at you, his crying coming to a stop. His lips tug up into a small smile and he wraps a tiny hand around your finger. “She is unfortunately caught up in Vallahan.”

“So then Cassian is to escort me today?” You ask again, looking up at your friend.

You catch the way she looks at Rhysand. They share a look and you know they’re communicating to each other through their mind. It’s Rhysand who answers you this time.

“Cassian isn’t fond of the spring, allergies and all.”

The Shadowsinger steps forward and your smile falls. You turn back to your friend, who gives you a sheepish smile in return.

“Azriel will be escorting you today.”

You almost want to say no. The thought of being alone with Azriel makes your stomach churn with unease and something else that you can’t quite discern at the moment. But Nyx begins to squirm in his mother’s arms with a pout and Feyre’s eyebrows knit in concern.

“Okay,” you sigh.

“Thank you so much for doing this,” Feyre says.

“Our son’s life is in your hands.”

Feyre slaps her husband’s arm with a roll of her eyes. “He’s not dying, Rhys,” she grumbles. “He’s just in some discomfort from teething.”

She then turns to Azriel with a stern look. The corner of her lips threatened to betray her. “Be nice.”

**

Azriel’s shadows envelop you both, whisking you away to the forest of the Spring Court. It was the safest of the two courts to winnow directly to. The air in the dense woods hangs heavy with the scent of blooming blossoms and you’re thankful for the muffled sounds of nature as it provides a soothing background noise, saving you from the awkward silence between you and the impassive Shadowsinger.

Azriel walks ahead, his movements graceful and quiet. His shadows cling to him like the loyal companions they are but some hover over your boots, silencing your own steps. 

He finally breaks the silence. “You’re staring.”

You shift your gaze immediately and wonder if he can also sense the pink that dusts your slightly flustered face. “I’m just surprised you’re the one escorting me,” you answer honestly.

“It’s not like I had much of a choice,” he responds cryptically.

A slight tension settles between you, your heartbeat quickening as you follow him through the forest. “Right,” you say, your face growing pinker.

You shift the weight of your bag to your other shoulder and Azriel comes to a sudden stop. He turns, his hazel eyes scanning you for a moment. Without a word, he takes the bag from your arm, effortlessly hoisting it over his shoulder. 

The unexpected gesture catches you off guard, and a quiet "thanks" escapes your lips. “You’re being awfully nice today,” you can’t help but observe, a mixture of surprise and curiosity in your tone “I think this is the most you’ve talked to me since we met.”

Azriel’s lips curve into an almost-smile. A rare sight that sends a flutter through your chest. “My High Lady told me to be nice.”

“Right,” you repeat quietly to yourself as you exhale, a futile effort to calm your fluttering nerves. It’s almost embarrassing the effect Azriel has on you and as the butterflies in your stomach stir, you hope that the rest of the day unfolds quickly.

**

Mates. Two individuals predestined to be together, brought together by unseen forces and an irresistible bond. Azriel once wondered if he had a mate but after centuries of living, he began to wonder if he was simply destined to be alone.

When his brothers found their mates and he still hadn’t found his, he started to think he was far beyond the reach of love. It was a blessing he could not have. He didn’t need a mate, so he convinced himself he didn’t want one. Romance was not part of his duties and he was starting to come to terms with the fact. 

That is, until, he met you.

Nestled right on the outskirts of the area known as the Rainbow of Velaris was a quaint shop. The wooden sign above, engraved with dark letters spelling out Nightrose Apothecary, swayed gently in the cool morning breeze. Azriel had ignored the frenzied whirlwind of his shadows as he stepped into the shop.

Shelves made of twisted vines and wood were neatly arranged with rows of glass jars containing colorful powders, dried herbs and exotic roots. A friendly black cat, lounging on the sunlit windowsill, blinked at him in greeting. As he stepped further into the shop, his senses became overwhelmed with the prominent scent of lavender and chamomile.

Behind a worn, wooden counter is where you stood. You hummed to yourself, immersed in the book in front of you. He found himself unable to take his eyes off of you as you skimmed over the rough edged pages, your fingertips carrying an enchanting green glow and eyes filled with darkness. 

You were a witch but it was no surprise to him. He had heard about you. You were a good friend of Feyre’s. One of the few people she could trust during her time in the Spring court. When the Spring Court fell into chaos, Feyre had brought you with her and helped you open up this shop.

His steps were silent and he’s sure you’re unaware of his presence, so he shifted, parting his mouth to speak–

“Hello, Shadowsinger.”

His steps faltered, eyes widening for a fleeting moment.

When you finally lifted your gaze to meet his, his eyes locked with yours and something deep within him awakened. An exhilarating feeling like no other. He felt light. He felt alive. And he was almost afraid to blink, not wanting the feeling to end.

His shadows peeked out from behind his limbs, curious to see what had their master in a chokehold. They dispersed from his body in a thrilled dance as the darkness left your eyes, revealing their natural color. They’re beautiful and sparkling with kindness, even as his shadows disobey his silent orders and slither up your arms in a cool greeting.

“I’m sorry,” he found himself apologizing, a slight tint in his cheeks. “They usually don’t do that.”

“It’s okay,” you brushed off his worry and he felt lightheaded and bewitched at the smile you directed toward him. “What brings you here?”

Azriel can’t help but feel that you already know why he’s there. He pulled his gaze away, choosing to focus on the crystal orbs on the counter instead. “My High Lady recommended I come to you. I’ve been having trouble…sleeping.”

The green glow returned to your fingertips as you beckoned a small clear vial from one of the shelves behind you. It’s filled with a silver liquid that glistened as it moved, mirroring the twinkle of the stars that light up the night sky.

“This should help.” You told him as you held out the vial to him. “Take a sip before you’re ready for bed and it should quickly pull you into a restful slumber. Some say it even brings forth sweet dreams.”

Azriel nodded his head, taking the small vial from you with a gloved hand. He stored it carefully into the chest pocket of his leathers. His hands then dug into the pockets of his pants but you held out a hand to stop him.

“It’s on the house.”

“But–”

“Any friend of Fey–the High Lady’s is a friend of mine.”

His throat tightened as he realized it’s time for him to leave and he doesn’t want to. He’s caught in a whirlwind of emotions and finds himself torn between hope and fear. Or maybe he fears what it means to be hopeful because for once in his life, he wants something.

He wants you. His mate.

But as he thanked you for your kind gesture, he realized that the bond must have not snapped for you as it had for him. So he reluctantly went on with his day and when the sky darkened and stars awakened, he took a sip from the small vial. He had the best sleep of his life that night and dreamt about you.

The next morning he asked Rhysand and Feyre about what he had experienced because he couldn’t believe it himself. They confirmed his suspicions and they were both delighted. Feyre even more so as you were her dear friend.  

She had taken it upon herself to bring you two together. Her first attempt was a family dinner. It was going well until Elain had spotted a spider and upon the small scream she let out, Nesta had rushed to kill it for her. Your distress was impossible to turn a blind eye to and Feyre quietly asked if you were alright.

“It didn’t need to die,” is all you quietly said, your eyes lined with silver.

Witches were one with nature and given your niche with herbs and creation, Azriel realized the depth of your admiration for all life that night. Then, another harrowing one. You were so innocent, so pure. He was guilty, hands tainted and stained red. He didn’t deserve you.

The Cauldron must’ve made a mistake.

Feyre was undeterred so she gave it another attempt, despite Azriel’s protest. She arranged a night out at Rita’s for the Inner Circle and invited you. Azriel didn’t plan on going but Rhysand had made sure his schedule was clear and when Feyre had sent him an image of you in a skin tight dress, he came as quickly as he could. 

But it was too late.

He arrived to find a high fae leaning toward you in interest and you were smiling at him. A smile Azriel wanted reserved just for him. The male had placed a hand at your waist and Azriel felt his stomach churn when you laughed at something he had said. A sound he wished to be the cause of. You seemed happy and who was he to stand in your way?

The male was everything Azriel was not. Blond, blue eyed and perfectly smooth hands–hands that were all over you and welcomed by you. He unconsciously hid his scarred hands behind his back and when your gaze met his across the room, he looked away. 

Azriel was not worthy of you. He didn’t deserve to have you as his mate. So he reminded himself that romance was not part of his duties and convinced himself that the Cauldron, had indeed, made a mistake. 

He couldn’t bear the thought of being just a friend to you. The mere idea pained him so much that he pushed you away. He didn’t return to your apothecary when he finished the vial you’d given him–not even when his nights became restless again and dark circles appeared beneath his eyes. When he’d see you walking along the streets of Velaris, he’d turn the other away and when you would visit Feyre and he was there, he’d find an excuse to leave.

But there was one thing he couldn’t shake off–the primal instinct to protect you. It was the least he could do for you as he felt indebted to you for the Cauldron’s mistake. 

So when he heard you needed an escort to the border between the Spring and Autumn courts, he was the first to volunteer, despite Mor and Cassian also offering.

**

It’s as if the ground beneath you comes to life in your presence. Birds fly over you, chirping and singing a beautiful melody. As you pass, buds blossom into beautiful flowers as if enchanted by you. Even the animals emerge from their hidden abodes. The squirrels playfully dart between branches while a family of deer gracefully emerges from the trees.

It becomes evident that nature itself is captivated by your presence. and it extends beyond nature, weaving its magic onto Azriel as well. It reaches into the very heart of the Shadowsinger, casting an enchanting spell that even he cannot escape.

A blue butterfly dances playfully around Azriel. It startles him, pulling him out of his trance and you can’t help the small laugh that escapes from you. You raise a finger and the butterfly lands on it softly.

“Hello, little one,” you coo softly. You turn to Azriel, holding out your finger to him. “Would you like to hold it?”

“No.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Are you scared of a butterfly?”

Azriel does not answer your question. Instead, his eyes dart around the forest that still stirs with liveliness around you. “What happened to keeping a low profile?”

“Sorry,” you apologize, even though it’s not your fault. The butterfly grants you one last flutter of its wings before flying away. “I can’t help but be admired by many.”

Azriel lets out a hum. You’re too distracted to pick up on the subtle resonance of agreement, your eyes widening as the meadow finally comes into view in the distance.

**

You inhale deeply, flooding your senses with the sweet and delicate fragrance surrounding you. Time seems to slow and your worries dissipate away as you kneel down, gently touching the soft sea of green, white and yellow. The gentle sway of the dandelions is mesmerizing almost, their feathery plumes catching the morning breeze like wishes aching to be set free.

Azriel watches you and his eyes are a reflection of an adoration deeper than any meadow bloom. There’s a bittersweet ache in his chest. You close your eyes, a serene expression on your face. Strands of sunlight weave through your hair, creating a halo of warmth and Azriel finds it hard to breathe when your lips bloom into a tender smile.

Your eyes open and meet his hazel eyes and suddenly, he’s looking away. He clears his throat, eyes looking around the field. “What’s so special about this place?��� He asks, a desperate attempt to reclaim the distance between desire and reality.

“All life is a delicate balance of give and take. Spring brings forth new life and beauty, new beginnings. Autumn leaves showers of gold, recognizing the temporary nature of all things. “ You answer as if it's common knowledge and upon the bewildered expression on Azriel’s face, you offer the simpler explanation:  “The soil between Spring and Autumn is very potent.” 

“These are weeds. They’ll grow anywhere.” Azriel deadpans. He regrets it immediately at the slight frown that forms at his casual dismissal.

“You may see a weed,” you begin, plucking a single dandelion from the ground as you rise to your feet. You approach the Shadowsinger. “But I see wishes.”

You extend the dandelion to him with a softness in your eyes that he’s never been on the receiving end of. “They say a single dandelion possesses the power to grant one-hundred wishes. But their beauty lies in their resilience because when they fall apart, they simply start again. A reminder to us all of boundless hope.”

Azriel hesitates, his gaze fixed on the dandelion. His gloved fingers brush against yours and for a fleeting moment, he wonders what your skin would feel like against his. The mere thought dares to send a shiver through him but he swiftly pushes the thought away.

You smile at him as he carefully accepts the stem from you. His shadows remain dispersed around the field but from where he stands, he can feel them vibrating joyfully. Your smile is so bright, so dazzling and for the first time since he met you, it’s all for him.

A sudden warmth floods through him, a sensation he never anticipated, and he finds himself utterly captivated.

“Make a wish,” you whisper to him, your voice a gentle prompt that lingers in the air like a spell waiting to be cast.

Azriel is not one to believe in things like this but he finds himself surrendering to the magic of the moment. For you.

Under the tender gaze of a field of dandelions, he closes his eyes. He lets out a silent breath, and makes a wish. A breeze courses through you both in that moment. The dandelion’s wispy seeds take flight, unraveling into a fine constellation of possibilities. 

The soft bristles of hope travel through the air and find their way to you and a laugh escapes from you in response to the tickling sensation as they caress your face.

Azriel’s heart feels strangely gentle–as if the weight that often accompanies his existence has momentarily dissipated. His entire body seems to soften in the glow of your laughter and a rare smile forms on his face.

He’s stuck in a trance, mesmerized by you, failing to catch the sounds of the creatures approaching.

Before he knows it, there are arrows whistling around you both. He barely has enough time to respond as one hisses by his ear and darts to you. He immediately raises his hand up, his shadows rushing to the rescue and forming a protective shield around you both.

**

Your eyes are wide as you stare at the tip of an arrow that is a couple of inches away from you. It’s coated with blood. Azriel’s blood.

Your breath hitches at the sight. There's an arrow embedded into his gloved hand and if it weren’t for Azriel’s other hand at the small of your back, you would’ve fallen backwards.

“Are you alright?” His gaze is examining you carefully, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

You blink at his words. “Are you alright?”

“Well, well, well.” A voice drawls followed by deep, rumbling growls from the hounds that surround you. They’re kept at bay by Azriel’s shadows. “What do we have here?”

Azriel turns around, ready to face the threat head on. His shadows remain at your side protectively. Some slither up and down your arms, their touch aimed at offering comfort and reassurance. 

“Eris.”

The red head smirks and his teeth flash when he catches the sight of the Shadowsinger’s injured and bleeding hand. “My apologies,” Eris sneers. “If I had known it was you, I would’ve aimed for the heart.”

A sound escapes from you–one you didn’t know you were capable of making and you step out from the shadows. It draws Eris’s attention to you. His amber eyes drink you in and you feel Azriel stiffen beside you. The Autumn’s male’s eyes land on the obsidian necklace around your neck and they narrow.

“What is a witch doing in my lands?” His hounds that are still surrounding let out another growl, prompted by their master’s tone of voice. They snap their teeth menacingly.

But you’re unfazed.

Perhaps, it’s Azriel’s protective shadows or the overwhelming anger set alight by Eris’s words that grant you the confidence and push you forward. Your eyes fill with darkness, resembling a night sky without any stars and Azriel can feel the energy coursing through your veins as you call upon your magic.

“Keep wasting the air with that breath of yours and I might just cur–”

A hand comes over your mouth, stopping you from saying anything else and you’re being pulled flush into Azriel’s chest. You grimace at the taste of leather and squirm only for Azriel’s arms to tighten around you.

“Cute,” Eris remarks with a hint of amusement but there’s an unmistakable fear that flashes in his eyes for a short lived moment.

 “We’re just passing through,” Azriel states, his voice void of emotion. 

Eris observes you both in contemplative silence. He must discern something in Azriel that prompts him to stand down. With a thoughtful hum, he gracefully turns away. His hounds follow suit and as he walks away, he calls over his shoulders: “Make it quick.”

You watch as Eris disappears into the forest, still wrapped tightly in Azriel’s arms. It isn’t until Eris is completely out of view that you squirm again and without thinking, you bite on his gloved hand. Hard. Azriel flinches and finally releases his grip on you.

You turn to him with a glare that he returns.

“Threatening to curse the heir to Autumn? Are you out of your mind?”

“I should curse you for stopping me!” You exclaim, crossing your arms with a scowl. Your gaze then softens as you quietly add:  “He hurt you.”

“Gods,” Azriel breathes, stepping away from you and tilting his head backwards. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

“You mean besides piss you off by merely existing?” You huff as you snatch your bag away from him to get the jars you brought. “Can’t imagine it gets any worse than that.”

**

The walk to your apartment is silent and you begin to wonder if you should apologize for your outburst earlier. It was not within your nature to raise your voice at anyone…or harbor anger toward someone. But Eris had tried to hurt you, hurt Azriel and then shamelessly sneered about it.

Azriel follows you into your home, watching as you set the ingredients you collected down. He expects you to bid him farewell and kick him out but as you turn to him and your gaze falls to his injured hand, you sigh.

“Come on,” you offer, reaching out for his hand and he recoils. You frown.  “Does it hurt?”

“No.” 

You know he’s lying by the way his jaw clenches and you can’t help but notice that he appears to be repelled by your touch. You almost laugh. “I promise I won’t curse you. I actually never cursed anyone before.”

Azriel’s expression remains unreadable.

“Just let me see. I can help you.”

“I’m fine.” He says through gritted teeth.

“You’re bleeding all over my floor.” You say in hopes to get him to accept your help and when it doesn’t, you cross your arms against your chest. “Do you really hate me that much? To be repulsed by my touch?”

“I don’t hate you.” Azriel confesses and his voice is much quieter, much softer when he speaks again. “I could never.”

Azriel holds your gaze in contemplation for a long moment. Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see his shadows pushing him toward you so you try again. This time, when you step forward, your hand reaching for him, he doesn’t pull away. 

 “Sit,” you tell him, nodding your head at one of the chairs in your kitchen. 

With a hard swallow, he does. He is entirely still as you hold his gloved hand in yours. Even his shadows are eerily still as if holding their breath. His eyes are boring into you with an intensity that heats your skin. You bring your other hand up, a soft green glow emitting from your fingertips. With the help of your magic, you carefully take the arrow out, drawing a sharp gasp from him. 

“Sorry,” you say, turning your attention to his glove next. You use your magic to remove it as well, not wanting to cause him any more pain or discomfort.

As the green mist of your magic dissipates, revealing the scarred skin beneath, your eyes widen. The scars are extensive, streaking around his fingers and the palm of his hand and the bleeding gash in the middle is nothing compared to them. You lift your gaze to meet his only to find his eyes are dead of emotion.

“Azriel.” You breathe and it’s the first time you’ve ever addressed him by his name and it sounds so pretty, so beautiful but the way you’re looking at him…

“Don’t.” His throat feels tight and he starts to withdraw his hand from yours but you stop him. You want to know who hurt him this deeply. Today was a day of firsts for you–first smile from Azriel, first time you ever felt so angry, first time you growled at someone and you were more than willing to add another first to that list. Cursing someone.

But Azriel looks like he’s about to break so you push your rage aside. Realization dawns on you as you now understand why he’s always wearing gloves around you, why he avoided you at all costs before. Your heart aches.

“You don’t have to hide from me,” you say softly as you begin to heal his hand. “Your scars may forever carry their stories with them but they do not define you. Your heart does and I can see it now. It’s bright and beautiful. You’re beautiful and–”

“y/n,” he almost begs. “Please don’t talk to me like that.”

The gash on his palm is now completely healed and you tighten your hold on it. “Why?”

“It’s cruel and heartless and you don’t even realize.” His voice drops to a pained whisper and his eyes are fluttering shut, body trembling. Shadows cling on to him, embracing him in an attempt to comfort their master. You’ve never beheld anything more heartbreaking.

“Do you think that lowly of me?” You begin, your voice quiet. “That I would be put off by your scars?”

When he doesn’t answer, your free hand reaches for his face, lifting his chin up. But his eyes are still closed and deep lines form on his forehead because your skin is so soft, so warm and he’s not worthy.

“Azriel,” you steady your breath. “You’re my mate.”

His eyes shoot open, hazel orbs glistening with tears as he looks up at you. “You know?”

“I’ve known since the moment I met you.” You confess with a pained smile. “I wanted to tell you right away but I didn’t want to scare you and when I was ready to tell you, you were avoiding me. I thought you hated me because, well, I’m a witch and not everyone is fond of them.”

“But that night at Rita’s–”

“My stupid attempt at making you jealous,” you explain to him sheepishly. “I thought it would prompt you to talk to me but it backfired immensely.”

Silence falls over you two. 

“I’m sorry.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “For what?”

“For being your mate.” Azriel responds. “I don’t deserve you. My hands are not only scarred but stained red. I’ve tortured many. I’ve killed many. You value life but I take it.”

“I value innocent life. It’s my duty to protect nature–to protect those that cannot speak for themselves.” You clarify. “I understand that it’s your duty to protect this court. I don’t see you any different for it.”

The hand at his face drops and you use it to remove the glove from his other hand. Your hands grasp onto his larger ones and you lace your fingers with his, embracing the thickened and roughened skin. Azriel’s breath hitches.

 “This can’t be real,” he murmurs to himself, dropping his gaze. “In that field of dandelions, I wished upon every one of them. For you.”

“Magic doesn’t work that way,” you tell him with a smile as an overwhelming rush of tenderness comes over you. “It cannot create or destroy love. It can only heighten what is already there.”

Azriel’s expression softens and he looks back up at you. Half terrified. Half hopeful. “So this is real?”

You decide to show him instead by leaning down and kissing him. 

Azriel’s body relaxes and then he’s using his hands to tug you forward and onto his lap. He kisses you back. Deeply and desperately. He places his hands on your face, your neck and then they’re at your waist, slipping under your shirt. He wants to feel your skin, all of you and you welcome it, arching into him because his touch feels so good.

It stirs a light of desire in you–a desire so bright that it rivals the sun and blossoms flowers of its own. A desire to love and be loved. 

“What else did you wish for?” You gasp out when you both pull away for air. His hands are right under the curve of your chest and he leans his forehead against yours.

His breath is heavy but he smiles at you and you engrave the image into your mind because you’ve never seen anything so beautiful. You’re inclined to ask Feyre to paint it for you later.

“My only wish was for you to be mine.” He confesses, pressing a kiss to your nose.

“Done.”

And then he’s kissing you again.

Azriel has heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime–he’s seen it come to his brothers. He never thought it would come to him but he’s pretty sure that you are that love of his and he was a fool to push it away. He knows this now because when he gazes into your eyes, he can see forever in them.

here's an alternate scene, where y/n is the one who says "please don't talk to me like that" instead of az: read here

here's a scene if you're curious about feyre's reaction: read here

if you're interested in reading more about this au you can find the masterlist for this series here

[fairysluna]

I have a request 🙄🤭 threesome cregan Jace and reader no plot just smut maybe? Either modern or not

MASTERLIST

Hope you like this story made especially for you!! please enjoy it and thank you for sending this request🤍 This is the first threesome I've ever written, so this is complete new territory for me, I hope I did good tho.💀

Reblogs, comments and feedback are highly appreciated!

PAIRING — Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader x Jacaerys Velaryon.

TAGS — canon!time, targcest (brother/sister), porn w/o plot, smut (threesome, F/M/M, oral sex - both receiving, face fucking, p in v, slight degrading, breeding, praising, spit, pussy slapping, belly buldge, overstimulation, aftercare), cursing, a tiny bit of cregan x jace, cregan and reader are betrothed, dom!cregan/switch!jace/sub!reader. If something is missing let me know!!

WORD COUNT — 2k.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤenglish is not my first language.

Cregan loved to hear how overstimulated you were. His hands were gripping your thighs - keeping your legs spreaded. He saw how Jacaerys was eagerly lapping at your throbbing clit, moaning and whimpering against your flesh. You were crying already, tears of raw pleasure streaming down your face as your entire body trembled between his arms. You were barely able to hold it together anymore, laying against Cregan's chest - eyelids closing by themselves.

Jacaerys, your sweet brother, had no intention to stop. His tongue doing wonders as he dived it inside of you - his nose rubbing against your clit. His face was red and sweaty, covered in your slick after stealing three orgasm from you - yet it seemed he hadn't had enough. Your hips would twitch, trying to squirm away from his hungry mouth without success.

“Please, stop! It's- it's too much… I can't!” you mumbled, digging your nails in Cregan's arm. “Jace- Jace, please…”

The youngest man looked up from his position, his tongue still attached to your folds, slowly circling around your swollen pearl while his deep, brown eyes stared at you through a layer of lust. He searched for Cregan's approval, and he denied it.

“Don't listen to her,” he huskily said. His hot breath against your neck caused shivers down your spine. “She's a tough girl, right? I bet she can handle another one.”

“M-my lord… please…”

“What kind of host would I be if I don't make sure my guests are satisfied?” A deep laugh followed his words, a simple sound that almost pushed you over the edge. “Your dear brother hasn't finished his meal yet, be a good princess and keep your legs open for him, okay? He’ll know when it's enough.”

Jacaerys followed Lord Stark's words, indulging further in your taste until you were nothing but a mess between their arms. He would use his fingers to tease your entrance, pushing them in and then pulling them out to lick you off. He repeated this action multiple times, until you were cumming on his face once again and coating his long fingers with your slick. He hummed, delighted to drink from you, enjoying the sweetness of your release and devouring every single drop that came out of you.

Once he finally decided to pull away, you sighed - relieved that he had finally stopped and gave you time to rest. Cregan cooed against your ear, praising you with soft words as his thumbs wiped the tears that had fallen down your warm cheeks.

“Such a good job,” he murmured. “Taking everything we give you, huh?.”

“I'll never get tired of her taste,” Jacaerys added- almost in a whine, caressing your thighs. “So sweet, and so addictive.”

“Oh. Do you hear how greatly your brother speaks of you? He's so sweet, so nice to you- to us…” he added, looking at the Prince who was kneeling in bed in front of the both of you. “I think you should reward him for what he has done to you.”

Jacaerys whimpered, thrilled with the idea.

“Look at him, princess,” Cregan added, stretching his arm and holding Jace's cheek. His thumb brushed against his plump lips. “Our poor Prince has his lips sore after eating your sweet little cunt for too long ”

You observed in awe how your brother parted his lips to receive Cregan's thumb inside his mouth - his tongue twirling around his digit as his brown eyes glint with lust. A moan escaped from you, feeling the arousal pooling on your soaked flesh. The neediness inside your body only increased once you saw your lordship bringing his thumb to his own mouth, and tasting the mixture of your juices and Jace's drool. Your mouth parted, bewitched by the scene.

“Mhm…” he groaned in approval, “it still tastes like you.” He let out a throaty chuckle. “I suppose now it's time for you to give your dear brother a reward for what he did to you. He deserves it after being such a good boy, isn't that right?”

“Yes,” you breathed out, agreeing with him.

“What if… you suck his cock while I fuck you with mine? Doesn't that sound good?” Cregan proposed with a smile.

“Please,” your brother replied before you did.

Cregan looked at you for your consent and you effusively nodded - a satisfied smile appeared on his face.

You sighed tiredly once you felt his arms wrapping around your body and moving you around as if you were his doll. He did it so effortlessly, positioning you on your back with your head almost hanging from the edge of the bed and with a pillow below your hips. You noticed how he signed to your brother and he immediately moved until he was standing in front of your face - his leaking tip just mere inches away from your drooling mouth.

“Spread your legs for me,” Cregan commanded, and you immediately obeyed. Your exposed flesh was burning red, drenching with all the stimulation it had before, glistening under the dim lights of the candles and the fireplace. “So pretty…” he murmured, using his thumb to play with your clit, slowly drawing circles on it - you mewled. “I understand why your brother is so obsessed with you, my princess. You have the prettiest cunt in the whole fucking realm.”

He pulled away, enough to stand up from the bed and get rid of his pants. Seconds later, his hardness stood proudly as he crawled back at you, bouncing with every movement he made until he was towering your smaller frame. Cregan gathered his drool on his mouth to then let it fall right on top of your folds - he spreaded it with the head of his cock and, before you knew it, he was slowly stretching your tightness. Your walls would clamp around him, involuntarily trying to push him out as he struggled to sink deeper into you.

“Seven hells,” he grunted, “you're still struggling to take me, huh? Guess I'll have to fuck you more often then.”

As you felt the air leaving your legs with each thrust, you saw Jacaerys grabbing his cock and giving a few strokes at it. With his tip, he tapped on your swollen lips and you opened wide to receive him too. “There you go…” you heard him saying, before he let you wrap your mouth against him. “Mhm… so good,” he praised you.

The whine that escaped you once Cregan was fully sheathed on you was muffled due to your stuffed mouth. Both men moaned at the same time, looking at your body laying there, ready to be used as they pleased.

Gods, they truly loved their little princess.

Cregan was not being very patient as other times, and he quickly started to pound roughly against you, holding your hips to keep you in place as the movement made you take Jace deeper in your mouth. The youngest man started to move his hips too, unable to be still and longing for more - obsessed with the sight of your breasts bouncing in your chest with each thrust.

The main room in the Winterfell castle soon was filled with desperate panting and moaning. The sound of Cregan's body slamming against yours was buzzing in your ears while he managed to hit every right place inside your soft walls, abusing that sweet spot that would make you see stars behind your eyelids. All while you were choking around Jacaerys' cock, who was moving himself deeper with each passing second.

Both of your brother's hands wrapped around your throat to find some stability, this gesture made you cry out in pleasure - loving the way you felt with his hands around your neck.

“Come on, little one,” he grunted as he looked down at your drooling mouth, receiving him so eagerly while you gagged and gulped around him. “I know you can take me deeper… Go on- oh fuck, just like that… shit.”

“Who would've thought that our Princess was such a good slut?” Cregan added, breathless as dig his nails on your hips. “Can't wait to marry our little whore and fill her with my seed until she's round with my pups…” The way your walls squeezed him so tightly made him know that you loved the idea too. “Perhaps I'll let your brother fill this cunny too, mhm? Bet you would love it- fuck… ”

Jacaerys hands involuntarily tightened his grip around your throat, and you knew he was getting closer. “Fuck- M’so close…” he whined. “Fuuck…”

“Imagine it, my prince,” Cregan teased him, smirking as he locked eyes with him. “Her pretty cunny leaking with your seed, her belly filled and round. Isn't that such a pretty sight?”

“Y-yes…” he mumbled, struggling to keep his movements steady. “Oh, fuck… yes.”

His eyes closed as he leaned his head back, and suddenly his length escaped from your lips - you gasped. He peaked right there, letting a few drops of his seed spurt on your breasts before he would put his cock back into your mouth so you could swallow the rest. You eagerly licked it all, cleaning him as felt his legs getting weak with the subtle overstimulation you were providing him - yet, it felt too delicious to stop.

“What a piece of art,” Cregan mumbled, seeing your skin being tainted by pearly drops. “So fucking pretty.”

Jacaerys fell on his knees next to you, you felt his hand slipping down your body as Lord Stark pounded against you like a savage. Your brother's fingers found your swollen pearl, slowly stroking it while you were being filled. Cregan groaned in approval, fastening his pace.

The creamy sound of your juices covering his cock was so obscene, bringing a slight embarrassment to you - Gods, you were so wet. With the overstimulation you were receiving once again, you felt closer to edge faster than you thought.

“Come on, my pretty girl,” Jace cooed in your ear as he peppered soft kisses around it. “I know you're so close… you were so good to us, letting us use you as we pleased. You deserve to cum.”

His fingers stopped tracing figures on your clit, only to replace it with soft taps against your sensitive flesh. You mewled.

“Look how deep Cregan is,” he mentioned with a smirk. “I can see it in your tummy…”

“M’so close…” you mumbled. “Gods! Please, I need it so bad…”

Jace removed his hand from your core, taking it to your mouth where he slipped in two fingers. You receive them eagerly, twirling your tongue around it and sucking them off as you taste yourself. Meanwhile, Cregan grabbed the back of your legs, pressing your thighs against your body and going deeper and harder against you. You tried to keep up with the intensity of it all, but it was too much - tears were falling down your face as you were fucked against the mattress, barely able to move.

“Come on, let me feel you, princess,” he grunted as he buried his face on your neck. “Want you to fall apart in my arms…”

Your skin was burning and you were gasping, trying to fill your lungs with the air they needed - Cregan would grunt against your skin, being loud and shameless as he was about to reach his peak. You suddenly felt the waves of an intense orgasm washing over you as you released your pleasure in spurs, soaking the sheets beneath you and your Cregan's hair trail. That sight must have been the limit for him, who immediately filled you up with his seed, covering your insides with his pearly drops until it started to leak out of you.

His body pressed against yours as he tried to calm down. His length would twitch inside you each time you clenched around him, until he was absolutely dried and spent.

Jacaerys went to look for something to clean you up, almost moaning when he saw Cregan pulling out of you and his seed oozing from your entrance. Such an obscene view had both men drooling.

You were too tired to even move, so after they made sure to wipe out the sticky mess between your legs, they grabbed your body and took you to the center of the bed - laying between them. Right in that moment, you felt like you were in heaven, being pampered by the two men you loved the most and receiving all the attention you desired.

The fact that this was your future brought a smile on your face.

follow @by-fairysluna for updates!

[ne-videl]

𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐡

♡

yandere archon Zhongli x mean fem reader

Morax turned your new life into hell and you despise him for that.

MDNI, sub then dom then sub Zhongli, yandere, unhealthy relationship, forced marriage, kidnapping, just very very unhappy and abused reader, sexual violence, slight violence from reader, nsfw?? or just heavily suggestive, poor english!!! please tell me if I forgot anything ><

word count: ~2k

a/n: hiii everyone! welcome to my first post!! as a fellow yandere x reader enjoyer I decided to share some of my own stuff here. (it took a while bc translating any of my work is hell)

I hate violent and domineering yanderes so at the end geo grandpa gets what he deserved for being toxic ^^

I think Zhongli was a menace in his youth and you can't change my mind.

basically we just turn mean and cruel yandere morax into pathetic yandere morax

bon appètit.

you push your fingers deeper, harder, making his knees tremble and his back arch.

Zhongli exhales noisily, pressing his heated face against the cold wall.

you squeezed his throat with your long, musical fingers: the lack of oxygen made his heart beat even faster.

"why...?" he whispered with a hoarse moan, turning an intoxicated, misty gaze on you.

"for you being alive."

____*:･ﾟ✧

your new life was good, even better than the previous one – you thought. kind and affectionate parents, friends, little shop in a little village. little people doing their little things.

when you realized you were in the game, your new body was about three years old. "Liyue" fell from your mother's lips, and that was enough for you to understand.

"what a strange Liyue they have here... still in it's cradle, perhaps." – little you thought, concentrated on sorting out bright and shiny stones, sitting on the porch of your modest house.

over the years, little girls turn into beautiful women: with pink cheeks, delicate skin and lips with the color of fresh peach tree fruits.

when you, bright and beautiful you, working in the shop of your dear parents, met a man with amber eyes, you were sixteen.

even at the first glance you recognized your deity. beaming, you greeted him from behind the counter. the only answer for you was silence and his heavy gaze.

chrysanthemums silently looked at you with their curious heads, standing in a vase on an old table top.

when Morax came for the second time, you realized that he was here for you. all that remained was to silently say goodbye to mom and dad, cheerful girls at the neighborhood and to kind elders of your tiny village: you will never see them all again. while he was leading you through the corridors of his cold palace, clutching your little hand until it hurt, you were saying goodbye to your old life. It was impossible to even think about who you were before: it was as if she didn't exist anymore at all.

you wanted to cry.

from that day on, you began to hate chrysanthemums.

____*:･ﾟ✧

day 345765. your 948th anniversary is approaching.

life is akin to hell.

warrior god knew nothing about love. you've already lost count of the nights you've had to perform "marital duty", waking up with back pain and counting bloody red hickeys on your delicate skin.

your husband's stamina could only be matched by his insatiability.

you examine your neck, covered with bitemarks, with the gaze of a pathologist looking at a corpse before vivisection.

what a vile, gut-wretching sight.

over the years, the personality of geo archon's spouse has suppressed the personality of the one you used to be. and the attachment of a girl who spends the night playing videogame towards her favorite character no longer existed at all.

only hatred remained. blind, caustic, it alone forced you to get up in the morning, waiting for never coming end of this nightmare.

someday you will make him regret that he was even born into the world.

he wasn't the character you loved: not Zhongli, not the funeral parlor consultant. only person you knew now was Rex Lapis, lord of geo.

he alone was capable of destroying your pride: tearing off all the sparkling jewels from you, depriving you of the shine of false power with which you methodically surrounded yourself with decades.

it was making you angry, irritated to the point of trembling in your hands: it made the inferiority complex tear your chest with it's disgusting little claws and wail plaintively. he is the master, and you are the property.

you aren't trembling under your husband's steady gaze. you didn't like being alone with him, but on every night you spent together, your posture was stiff, like an unbending bamboo shoot. haughtily raised chin and burning eyes. burning not with passion, no. with disgust.

"I..."

I belong to you. the words you've said at least hundreds of times by now.

"I hate you. I despise you with every little piece of my soul."

Morax greedily bites into your lips, and you feel your skin cracking under his sharp fangs, while hot hands painfully squeeze your shoulder under the silk hanfu.

painful. disgusting.

he takes you, as he did on many nights before: cruelly and vulgarly.

and you scream, you grin at his impassive face: you promise your husband that someday you will kill him, will wring his neck. that you will hate him for the rest of your endless life. you desperately tear the skin of his broad back with your blunt nails, growling and whining like a hunted, beaten dog.

Rex Lapis licked the blood off a fresh bite on your skin.

pulling the maid by the hair, who dared to chatter right in your ear early in the morning about how romantic it all was, was quite in the spirit of the "noble spouse", known for her more than bad, bilious temper.

"nights and nights long, oh, what a passion! what a burning, beautiful love!"

you are so lucky, madam.

girl is sobbing, with her head pressed against the wall. you hiss, venomously and viciously, tightening your grip on strands of her hair with tenacious, elegant fingers.

"stupid bitch. romantic, huh? you think I enjoy it? what, want to take my place?" – frightened maid runs out of her mistress's luxurious bedroom in tears.

you were jealous of that innocent girl. a girl who was able to cry when after being raped. who could see something beautiful in trivial things. who probably had a loving husband and family. that pathetic maid was better than you, an icy cold shell of a human driven only by hatred and a thirst for revenge.

you pursed your lips in disgust.

you developed a habit of despising everything that was better than you.

____*:･ﾟ✧

you always loved music, and over time you became very fond of playing it on your own. it helped to keep your mind in order.

whether it's a guqin with silk strings or an elegant erhu, or, a more exotic one, a lacquered piano brought especially for you from Fontaine – over time you have mastered every available musical instrument perfectly.

it was a good way to keep yourself busy, to not think of useless things. you've had more than enough time in a couple thousand years to master all this.

thin fingers drum on the keys: furiously, with malice, while the piano obediently gives out note after note.

Morax loved listening to you play, especially erhu. his delicate dragon hearing gravitated towards graceful, gentle melodies. even in this matter, your opinions did not agree: you, his spouse, loved to play music so that the maids, shuddering, thought why their mistress was furious once again.

you had beautiful hands, as befits a great musician; and with those beautiful hands you were concentrated on running your fingers through your husband's long hair.

the tips of the strands shimmer with amber in your delicate hands.

you never took the initiative or showed affection, and Morax, although genuinely surprised by such a sudden request, gladly complied. it was nice to feel the gentle touch of your thin fingers, occasionally touching the scalp and sending shivers down his back. low, guttural rumble came from his chest as he closed his eyes in euphoric bliss.

you put the jade comb aside.

"indeed, what a beautiful hair." – you drawled indifferently, noticing the hot blush on his neck, which burned even more after you pulled harder.

indeed, beautiful. how nice it would be to hit his head on an expensive countertop, wrapping it around your fist. how he would react? you would really like to see tears and fear in his bright eyes.

"beauuutiful..." – you hissed with a caustic sneer at the very ear of the lord of geo, pulling especially hard.

your husband's uncharacteristically high-pitched moan was your answer.

____*:･ﾟ✧

with each millennium spent together, your spouse has become softer. calmer, more respectful towards you. and even if you still noticed the possessive twinkle in his amber eyes, it was incomparable to the fire of poisonous passion that burned in them once.

at least now you were allowed to manage your own time. how generous of him, to end your imprisonment within the walls of the palace – you thought with caustic sarcasm, picking up another glaze lily for a bouquet.

now you even had friends – if that's what you could call the adepti and other loyal companions of Morax. all of them, of course, sympathized with your situation, but never made any attempts to help. they didn't interfere – no one ever did.

the sunset was blazing bright orange – or scarlet, or pink – didn't matter. you frowned, looking into nowhere.

Guizhong plopped a large bouquet of glaze lilies into your hands, snatching you out of your gloomy thoughts, but immediately running away in embarrassment.

"and why?" – you felt the urge to roll your eyes, but pulled yourself out of the annoying habit. goddess of dust, although considered you friends and did not hide the fact that she liked you, the wife of Morax, alone with you trembled like an autumn leaf in the wind.

piercing, cold eyes slid to embarrassed goddess, and you tried to give her a smile: the best you were still capable of, if were capable at all. so that it doesn't look like a facial muscle spasm.

"thank you. they're pretty." – goddess of dust smiled back: bright and sunny. in your gaze, for a second, shifted a non malicious envy, with which elders who have lived a long, harsh lives look at children. you yourself forgot how to smile like that a long time ago.

yes, perhaps you were really a little jealous of Guizhong. of the fact that she did not meet Morax as a young and cruel deity. the lady of the Guili Assembly knew him as wise and merciful, her faithful ally and reliable support. you didn't blame her for that, but you still couldn't help a slight tremor in your hands at the sight of your husband having a pleasant conversation with his friends.

well, after another millennia, Rex Lapis has come to love having pleasant conversations with you too.

"lovely flowers." – Morax patted you on your shoulder, smiling tenderly, but you, however, did not consider it necessary to respond in kind.

"Guizhong gave it to me." – you mumbled dryly.

"I see. do you like her?" – geo archon leaned closer to you, affection shining in his amber eyes.

"I don't know." – you closed your cold eyes, without taking your tired gaze from the bouquet.

Morax kissed the top of your head, and you twisted your face in disgust.

____*:･ﾟ✧

war of the archons died down with great noise, bringing destruction and devastation. having lost many, Morax took his place among the Seven.

and even Guizhong, sweet and kind Guizhong, fell victim to this massacre. although, of course, for the wife of the geo archon her death and the deaths of many others were not as much a blow as for himself.

slender fingers pluck the strings of the erhu, playing an elegant, long-drawn melody.

"[name]. I know you hate me, but still-" Rex Lapis looked at his wife with deep, sick affection and sadness in his amber eyes, like a beaten puppy, – "but still, please..."

you lift your eyelids, giving him a cold, indifferent look, and put down the instrument.

"you do not worth pity." – you say dryly, pursing your lips, – "at least not mine."

Morax rests his head on your shoulder, desperately inhaling your scent, as if afraid that you will disappear.

"please. just this once. help me just once, I beg you." – you feel the hot moisture staining the silk of your hanfu.

your beautiful hand rests on the top of his head, and you hear a noisy intake of breath, and his fingers tightly grip your forearm in a desperate embrace.

your little god is so pathetic. how disgusting.

see, how simple everything turns out to be? beg, even better if you cry, and maybe I'll feel a little sorry for you.

but you both knew that you would never allow him the luxury of your pity.

your tenacious fingers grabbed his hair in a firm grip, and you lift his head so that your husband looks into your eyes. into your cold, mocking eyes.

the only thing you desired to see in your former tormentor's gaze was fear, but even in that matter he disappointed you. Morax was looking at you with the same sick love that you had never been able to get used to over the last millennium.

you were waiting for fear, hatred, anything, but not this.

you huffed, relaxing your grip. your husband's arms wrapped around your waist, and he rested his head on your shoulder once again.

"you can be cruel. you can shout at me or hate me. you can do whatever you want with me, just please, please... don't go away."

there was no answer for him.

____*:･ﾟ✧

warm midday sun illuminated the domain in the Aocang mountain. fluffy clouds floated overhead while you sipped fragrant herbal tea, entertaining yourself with conversations with the Guardian of the Clouds.

"Zhongli, huh? how sweet. well, why don't you invite him to have tea with us?" – you giggled venomously, enjoying the intense gaze of the adepti. – "I will be more than glad to see him once again."

guilt will always follow geo archon, you will make sure of this.

you will be glad to see his sadness again, to hear the regret in his voice, and maybe, maybe even laugh a little when you'll see the same pathetic obsession in his eyes.

because it doesn't matter if it's Morax or Zhongli, he will always come back to you.

geo archon will always desire, and you will always despise.

always. forever.

thanks to everyone who (for strange reason ���🤨) finished reading this!!! honestly I was so scared to post it and my english is probably awful uuuh

maybe I'll post something else but it'll sure take a while bc as a said before, translating any of my stuff takes a shit ton of time

bye!!

[gtgbabie0]

⋆⁺ ✮⋆⁺ Vampire!Caitlyn x Reader

Synopsis: {Caitlyn finds you bleeding on her doorstep, she saves you… kind of} AN: vampire girlfriends, vampire girlfriends!! ✮Masterlist is here <3

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾

You had to be the most unluckiest woman in the world, born into a household whose love extended no further than a simple smile or a nod— your father, a magistrate who was rarely home and your mother? Left on your tenth birthday. The Nannie’s raised you, with their strict rules and punishments.

None of which prepared you for the true harshness of the world— the cutthroat work ethic that left you exhausted, the marriage proposals your father set up and told you nothing about, selling you off to the highest bidder like some broodmare.

They would all laugh if they could see you right now, curled up into a tiny ball on the porch of the supposedly abandoned Kiramman estate— hand weakly pressed against your side in a feeble attempt to try and stop the bleeding, warm, sticky crimson liquid seeping in between your fingers and pooling beneath you. Just your luck, of course, you’d get mugged the night before your engagement, to a Lord no less.

That’s where she found you, bleeding all over her doorstep practically offering yourself up to her on a silver platter— the pleading glint in your glassy eyes accompanied by that pathetic sound that escapes your chapped lips stops her from drinking you dry, just about.

Caitlyn didn’t have the patience for humans, they’re too sensitive, the tiniest of things sent them off into a tiff— she was in half a mind to leave, until you lifted your head upwards and stole her attention. Oh? you were so beautiful even in the face of death, a fading star she felt oddly compelled to save. It wasn’t sympathy that drove her to drag your body into her home, surely not, no, she had left all that behind, what? Centuries ago now, maybe more?

This was different, certainly, she could make good use of you, that was all there was to it, you’d be beneficial. The last of her maids were well— no longer on this earth, bless their hearts.

However, like most humans, you proved to be difficult. She had tried everything to keep you alive and everything had failed— typical. By this point, she was in too deep to just give up on you, damn the stubborn Kiramman genes. It’s why she takes a knife to her palm, dripping a few drops of her vampiric blood into your mouth— it was a stupid idea, turning you just to save you, it would bring a plethora of unwanted troubles, honestly what possessed her?

Caitlyn couldn’t lie to herself though, watching you wake up on her bed was quite a sight— one she couldn’t pry her eyes from as she looms within the shadows of her old bedroom, completely unbeknownst to you.

Your body felt heavy as if your bones were made from cement as you push yourself to stand up from the bed— a bed that certainly wasn’t yours, in a house that you didn’t recognise at all. Your body works faster than your mind, burning with panic as you rush through the hallways, frantically trying to find an escape.

Oh, how adorable you were— perhaps Caitlyn could have some fun for once. She stalks after you, candle flames snuffing out thanks to her cape as she walks after you.

“What? Is my hospitality really that awful?” Her smooth, velvety accent sounds throughout the room— you turn around with a sharp gasp, your back hitting the front door, hands clutching at the metal doorknob that you’re so desperately tugging at.

“you— you— yo-” the words came out all strained, tripping over yourself as you rattle the door with a desperate cry.

“I, yes I saved you, so the least you can do is thank me, my dear… it’s only polite.” She smirks, and then you see her for who she really is beneath the flickering lights of the oil lamps, the pointed tip of her fangs, the reddish hue in her eyes…

The realisation hits you and you waste not even a second before turning around and yanking on the door— crying out for help like some madwoman, hands banging on the thick old oak that doesn't budge, only groans in protest. Caitlyn moves swiftly, leaning up against the door with a small perplexed frown, watching in slight amusement as you scramble backwards, falling against the marble floor.

“You don’t want to go outside unless you wish to be reduced to cinders.” She sighs, rubbing her temples slowly.

You shake your head in disbelief. “Wha— what— you didn’t?” You tremble, shaky hands reaching up to poke at your teeth, hands feeling the dead coldness of your skin. You let out such a jarring cry. Humans.

The thought of letting you go popped into her mind, however, it went as fast as it came as she shakes the thought away, kneeling before you— hands held out defensively as she watches you curl up into a ball like some wounded, quivering animal. Poor thing.

“Don’t make this harder than it already is, dearest.” She coos gently, reaching her hand out to wipe her knuckle across your cheek to catch a stray tear. “The hunger will be horrific, I only want to help.”

God, she sounded too kind, the care in her words dripping with gentle sweetness— care? No this wasn’t who she was. Caitlyn sworn to herself long ago to leave such fragile emotions behind, behind with everything else. She quickly retracts her hand with a scoff.

“Hunger— what hunger?”

“Do I really need to spell it out for you?” Her tone was flat and emotionless once more.

Perhaps it was the adrenaline that made you snap suddenly. “Well, I’m sorry. I wake up in a stranger's bed, feeling like I’ve just had a house dropped on me— with you, whatever you are, chasing me.” Oh? Caitlyn was taken aback slightly at your angered tone, laced with the slightest twinge of sarcasm, it had her eyes slightly widening in surprise.

Her lips purse out slightly as she turns her head to the side, gaze fixed on some old painting. “I was not chasing you.” Her words come with a huff, stealing a glance at you from the corner of her eye.

Goodness, she looks much less threatening now, kneeling in front of you, arms crossed over her chest and pouting? It was a little funny and perhaps you would’ve laughed if the situation was different.

“Either way you need my help, so there’s no point in huffing about it.” She scoffs, sticking her chin out in confidence as she casts a judgmental gaze over you— your hair was a mess, mascara stains tracking down your cheeks, not to mention the state of your dress, the fabric ripped and stained with dried blood. You did look terrible.

So, reluctantly, Caitlyn extends her ever-so-gracious hospitality to you once more— letting you use her en-suite bathroom to clean yourself up, even giving you a hand-me-down dress. Which she didn’t expect you to be so, stunning in, but hells the thing— outdated as it may be— was practically made for you, the way it framed your figure so deliciously. She was staring.

Caitlyn blinks herself back into attention. “There, now you look less like you’ve just been murdered.” Her joke clearly didn’t land because you all but shoot her a mean-looking glare, too soon perhaps. Although you really shouldn’t blame her, it had been a while since she had conversed with another person.

“Well— that’ll do.” She breaks through the awkward silence as you busy yourself with tidying up your hair. Then she’s turning heel and just leaving, stopping at the threshold of the door as your hand darts out to catch hers.

Her eyes meet yours beneath the low, flickering glow of the oil lamps— confusion crossing over her face as your fingers curl around hers, looking up at her with wide eyes. You truly were so hauntingly beautiful. “Where are you going?” The sound of your scoff hardens her expression almost immediately.

“My study. And no you are not to follow me. If you need me, shout.” Her voice was stern, cold in a way that makes you shiver as she yanks her hand out from your grasp— defined brows knitting together in strictness. Study off limits it seems.

“So what am I to do? Sit around twiddling my thumbs all day?” Your bratty tone was met with an exasperated sigh, a quite dramatic one at that.

“You will clean each room— then you’ll have an hour to yourself, explore the library if you must. By the evening your first hunger will hit and well… well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” With that she’s walking down the halls, rubbing her temples and cursing beneath her breath, before you could bombard her with any more vexing questions.

A feeling of dread washes over Caitlyn as she locks herself in her study, rummaging through each and every book in hopes it might provide some guidance to help you through this inevitably painful process. She finds one book, one, with one measly chapter on a Vampires first hunger— she collapses onto her desk with a heavy sigh, face buried in her hands.

God help her, what had she gotten herself into?

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[mt-oe]

dude i just got into blue eye samurai and i’ve never been so obsessed with a show in my life omg i’ve already rewatched it like twice!!

but i wanted to make a request!! i love the idea of mizu and reader sparring with one another and the playful rough-housing becomes intimate ofc!! along w man handling and impact play, especially is reader is on the same power level, or stronger than Mizu!!

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Hey dears!

Love this request so much and was actually kinda (happily) challenged by this one, especially since I've never written anything like it before. Might be a bit shorter than usual since I've been feeling lethargic. Hopefully I was able to write what was on your mind <3

Hope you enjoy! Mwa mwa :*

note/s: not proofread, cursing, short, she/her he/him for mizu, implied afab reader

Tiny little huffs of air escaped through your nose from the physical exhaustion brought by lugging over stacks of hay. Despite the cool weather and the steady breeze passing through, sweat still lined your forehead, providing a subtle sheen.

"Aren't you going to help me at least?" you muttered in annoyance at the ronin who was calmly sitting on the farm fence, feet against the rough wood in quite a masculine manner.

Mizu raised an eyebrow at your comment. A very faint smirk, almost unseen, tugged up a the corners of her lips. Your annoyance was quite irritating at first, but now she grew to find it amusing how easily riled up you could get even when she was quite literally doing nothing. "I see no reason to do so. I am a guest after all," she quipped in a low voice followed by the sound of harrumph from you.

"Bullshit. You've been staying at our goddamn farm for almost a month now!" you argued, pursing your lips as you straightened your back. God, you could hear your bones cracking. "Can't you at least help around?"

You were a simple person born to a family whose father was an retired samurai. The lord had rewarded him handsomely with a land of his own, placing you and your mother where you currently were. Due to old age as well as the injuries your father had sustained in battles during his prime, your mother had sworn to take care of him.

Well...maybe she was taking care of him a little too much. Due to how attentive she was of him, it often led to you spending days alone and working on the land. Your mornings and afternoons consisted of taking care of the crops, feeding the animals, and carrying around various things.

Over time, your body grew a little too strong for what most men considered as ideal. Your arms were a little bigger than the typical housewife's and the scars from little mishaps around the land were deemed unsightly.

Because of this, finding a husband had become difficult for you. Most would deem you either too manly or would decline saying they would not like to wed to someone with scars like yours.

Honestly, it didn't concern you that much. You liked being alone and despite how difficult it was to manage the land alone, you were content. Waking up to warm sunlight, only having to take care of your parents, the smell of dew on the grass after rain was something you grew to love. You were happy.

Your parents on the other hand, were not. They claim they didn't want to see you grow up alone. That you needed someone who would take care of you as much as you take care of them. Even though you knew they only had the best intentions for you, you couldn't help but feel...irritated. Each man they invited over, each rejection only became an itch developing at your happiest times.

You could only imagine the joy they had when an unnamed samurai crawled into the stables of your father's horses, bloodied with a stab on his right.

While your head ached with irritation, thinking about how laborious of a task it would be to clean the stables, your parents were looking at each other's eyes, twinkling with hope of finding you a husband. They were hoping that maybe, this tall stranger who looked strong yet had a kind face, would be the one at the other end of their daughter's red string of fate.

Bull fucking shit.

You understood where they coming from. You really did. Tall handsome stranger suddenly walks into your farm when you really needed them to blah blah blah... But goddamn, were they serious?

Not only did this person have a permanent frown, they also disappeared all the damn time. Some mornings you'd carry a tray of soup over to the barn where he slept only to find it empty. Some nights you'd wake up to the distressed crowing of the chickens and roosters only to see him back again, clutching his bloodied sides.

This person was a headache on legs!

Always disappearing then coming back at the most inconvenient times. Always spreading his blood around the stables. Always needing medical attention. Always glaring at everyone through those orange-tinted glasses. Always greeting you with an annoyed sounding huff.

Worst of all? He didn't even bother helping around at all! Every time he stayed around, he just...watched you.

And yet, for some reason, your parents LOVED him. They didn't seem to mind the troubles he brought. In fact, they thought your dynamic was quite adorable. Something about opposites attracting.

Your eyes glared at him a few more seconds before you ultimately gave up, rolled your eyes, and continued to carry the hay into the barn. As you worked, Mizu couldn't help but soften at the sight secretly.

Truthfully, she didn't know why she still stayed here. She expected your parents to kick her out, or better yet, she expected herself to never return. Despite a small part of her brain telling her to help around, she didn't. If she helped around, then you'd get used to her help which will become bothersome since she planned to leave anyway. But for some reason, she kept coming back to serene view in your farm.

There was just something about it that drew her in. Maybe it was the cold breeze with the smell of grass. Maybe it was the stench of horse shit and the hint of dried rope fibers. Maybe it was the soft squish of wet soil underneath her feet. Maybe it was you.

Something in that horrible frown of yours just seemed so amusing to her. The way your muscles stretched as you moved things around or tried to keep the animals from going too far just reminded her of her past—just remove the bad parts. A part of her finds it all endearing.

Her thoughts were cut short upon hearing the slam of the barn door and grass crunching beneath your frustrated steps.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" you whined, hand on your hip. "Help me out!" Your hand shot out and gripped her wrist tightly, knuckles tensing as you shifted your weight to one foot and pulled him down.

Dirt and soil smushed underneath Mizu's feet. His eyes widened at your strength before narrowing at the smug victorious smirk on your face. Before he could control himself, his other hand grabbed your opposite hand, putting his weight to his heels and pushing against you.

Your eyes widened at his action but before you could utter out a complain, the upward tug of his lips made all the words on your tongue fall flat. This was the first time you saw him smile. The slight curve made your heart beat a little faster than you would like it to. It drew you in, slightly intrigued and something you just couldn't identify. With a challenging glare, you began pushing back against him.

"If I win, you're going to be mixing chicken shit into the soil until the seventh sunrise," you growled playfully, pushing back a little harder.

Mizu's smile grew at the sight of challenge on your face. His hands interlocked with yours, making sure it was a fair game for both of you, before he leaned closer, pushing all his weight towards you.

He huffed with a hint of amusement at your statement and gave a slight nod of agreement. "Bold words," he breathed out.

Mimicking his technique, you planted your feet harder against the soil before taking a heavy step towards him, forcing him to take a step back. You smirked a bit wider and looked up at him, brain freezing for a moment as your eyes met.

He looked...happy.

Well that was until he suddenly pulled you in instead, grabbing your shoulder with one hand then pushing you to the ground, straddling you.

A soft laugh left her upon hearing your gasp, laugh cut short as you reached up and pulled on his collar, twisting it and pulling it sidewards. Lifting your hips up, you pushed him down to ground. Now it was your turn to laugh.

"How'd you like that?" you mused at him, raising an eyebrow cockily. "Not fun now that you're losing, huh?"

Hearing your laugh, feeling your weight on her. It all made Mizu feel so warm. The heart she trained to grow unyielding felt fuzzy. She was happy.

Mizu laughed at your banter, letting you push down on her. "Not bad," he responded, smile smug. Suddenly, you felt his legs wrap around your abdomen and with one fell twist, he was on top of you once again. His hands gently yet firmly held your wrists down. "Just not quite good enough."

A soft gasp left you as your back collided with the soft grass. Wriggling your wrist, the realization of your defeat dawned on you. Your lips pursed into a pout, eyebrows furrowing, and your eyes narrowed at him. "Not fair. How am I supposed to do that? I can barely move my legs in these clothes," you huffed, pout melting into a snicker.

Mizu laughed at your musings before slowly getting off of you, patting and swiping the dirt off of herself. "Oh don't blame your clothes. It's just a skill issue," he chuckled, helping you up and dusting some of the dirt off.

"As if you'd know." You rolled your eyes at him and groaned. "Men have it easy. Wearing pants and all that."

She chuckled softly, a soft amused breath leaving through her nose. There were definitely some days she had the same thoughts back then. "Trust me. I know."

The statement felt odd to you somehow. It felt as if his words held more than what it seemed. Turning your head towards him, confusion and curiosity came over you. You raised an eyebrow at his words, lips pursed into a straight line. "What do you mean?"

Silence swept over the two of you for a moment before you suddenly felt the weight of his hand gently pat your head. The cool touch of his hand against your warmth soothing you somehow. "I just...know."

[gouraminnow]

May I request something with platonic yandere whitebeard and a toddler reader? Like I’m envisioning the crew somehow pick up a young child that recently lost her parents. And she’s traumatized and shy just holding onto dear life a stuffed bunny that is almost as big as her because she’s just so tiny. And poor baby can’t sleep is injured and hides from the crew. She is just so used to sleeping with said stuffed animal and in the same bed as her deceased parents. So she wonders into whitebeards quarters after she was supposed to be “asleep” somehow climbs up onto that giant bed and goes ah yes this feels right and familiar (probably didn’t help that the crew calls him pops and she is like pops? Like papa? I sleep with papa and mama. Mama and papa gone. I no like. New papa? New papa. My papa. Sleep now.) and just melts and cuddles up to him holding her bunny tight falling fast asleep.

Wow this is really specific. I mean this completely genuinely, have some of you anons considered making ocs/dipping your toes into writing yourselves? You've pretty much written your own scenario right here. I got back into writing by chatting with someone I sent long asks to, so I recommend giving it a shot if you're on the fence a all :)

Anyway!

The WBP are the most likely to actually adopt. Everybody else is kind of a deadbeat. Even still, I don't think they'd bring such a young kid along unless there was nowhere safe to drop her off nearby + somebody gets attached. Which is far from impossible.

This kid is either some sole survivor of something horrible, living with adopters deemed unfit for parenting(in which case they likely aren't long for this world), or the dead parents were already connected to the WBP in some way so WB feels some form of connection/responsibility already. Whatever the case, this tiny kid is brought on board.

Real shy like you said, tries to run and hide but won't let go of the massive bunny either so she doesn't get very far... probably does the little kid thing where she sits behind a box or a curtain and thinks she's hidden just because she can't see any of them. They'll humor it, it's better than such a young kid actually finding a proper hiding place and going unsupervised for lord knows how long. Plus it's pretty cute.

Regarding Whitebeard and the sleeping arrangements specifically... I really don't see things working out. First, the kid has to be able to stand the old man's snoring. But hey, I slept through blenders and fire alarms as a kid, so it's possible! But on the other hand...

If Whitebeard rolls over or hell, just moves an arm wrong, he could crush the poor kid. Luckily, he wakes up as soon as she curls up with him. Maybe even sooner, the pitter-patter of her little feet against the floor enough to get his attention. This is the guy who woke up to fend off Ace's knife attack at the last moment, after all. He stays still, making his mind up to scold his adult children for their lapse in care in the morning- she shouldn't be able to sneak by them. That's ridiculous.

But he's not a monster. He's not gonna kick the poor thing out, especially not if she hasn't done much else to get closer to anyone. She clambers her way up onto the bed, dragging the rabbit up with her as she curls up in the strip of space between his arm and his body. And the little whispered murmur of "Papa" once she settles gets him good. So he sighs, resigning himself to a sleepless night, slowly moving his massive hand closer to cradle the poor thing. It's enough to cover her and the rabbit both. He'll be scolded by Marco and the nurses for not getting his rest, and he'll scold his other children for letting the kid sneak into his room in the first place.

It's fine, though. If she insists on sleeping in Papa's room after that night, he has them move a smaller bed in next to his to minimize the risk of squishing. Kind of like a motorcycle side-car but. It's a bed.

[asa-do-your-thing]

Mine is the Vengeance

18+ MINORS DNI (Dark)Aemond Targaryen x F!Reader (/OC, hair colour is mentioned), mentioned Aegon x F!Reader 3.8k Warnings: DEAD DOVE I REPEAT DEAD DOVE, dubcon, noncon, blowjob, cunnilingus, P in V sex, smut duh, derogatory language, sexism, parent-child incest mentioned, as always no proofreading no nothing

Time had seemed to slow around you. Biting back tears, you flinched every time Queen Alicent took another section of your dark locks to braid them sweetly up onto your head, creating a beautiful updo. Two moons had passed since you’d been married, and it was common knowledge that Prince Aemond Targaryen had only ever touched you on your wedding night, refusing to interact with you more than he had to, only the two of you and Queen Alicent knowing why.

It was not your fault, you thought to yourself and sighed. You were not to be blamed. Though still, you had to be grateful that he stepped up the way he did. A true Prince, you thought with a tiny sneer.

“‘Tis alright, my dear, he can be peculiar about your… previous duties to King Aegon. It is now in your responsibility to give him a son, seeing as… the realm does not have a clear successor. To keep the peace, you’ll gift Prince Aemond a little son, so that Jaehaera can marry someone befitting her position,” Alicent whispered soothingly, yet the frigid coldness of her voice did not soothe you at all.

Ah yes, having to give your husband your body, because your rapist is burnt and broken beyond repair, so no heirs may follow. Wonderful. Wonderfully splendid news indeed. Though, with a resigned nod, you accepted the Queen Mother’s dubious advice and flinched as she pinned your veil into your braids.

“Now you look beautiful enough for him. Go now, child, and do what must me done. And oh, before I forget it - do give him one of the smiles that enraptured King Aegon so. You know, he told me that that was the reason why he… paid you such attention. He always used to ramble on about your smile. Now go, child, go, and show Aemond how pretty you can be.”

With a lingering trace of hesitation, you rose from the stool, your royal dress rustling softly against the stone floor. The reflection on the grand mirror struck you; you were a vision of pure elegance and regality, every inch the consort of a prince. As you walked towards the door, Alicent's words rang in your ears, "...show Aemond how pretty you can be."

The long hallway leading to your marital chambers seemed like an endless path. It was as though each step echoeed back into the silence, reminding you of your duty and what had to happen for you to walk this shameful path. Aegon, drunk. Aegon, sobbing. Aegon calling you ‘Mother’ while he held you down onto the mattress.

Aegon, who had screamed at you. Aegon, who after having received an earful by the Hand, Lord Otto Hightower, rashly betrothed you to Prince Aemond. Aegon, who caused all of your and Aemond’s misery. Though… it was your misery, first and foremost. Aemond never had to cry because Aegon had ripped him up because he was too drunk and eager. You clutched the delicate fabric of your gown, feeling knots in your stomach. Swallowing hard, you lifted your hand to knock on the door.

Prince Aemond sat his desk, engrossed in scrolls bearing news of the current situation across Westeros. Alliances, Troop movements and such things. He looked up as you enter, his violet eyes betraying surprise before he quickly masked it with hateful indifference. His gaze travelled over your form, taking in your carefully arranged hair and the gown that fell around you like a dark green waterfall.

"Are we receiving guests?", he asked with a hint of sarcasm in his cold voice. Your heart fluttered uneasily but summoning all the courage you had left, you flashed him a radiant smile - one that was reportedly fondly spoken about by King Aegon himself. Maybe… maybe he’d play along, just this once…

"No," you replied softly, moving closer to where he sat. "I just thought... perhaps..."

You trailed off, aware that your cheeks were red with embarrassment. He regarded you for a moment longer before sighing and setting aside his papers. He stood to his full height and stepped closer to you, glowering down from his not insignificant height.

“Did the Queen Mother send you?”

Clenching and unclenching your fists, you nodded gently. “Yes, my Prince. I was to, well I still am to… fulfill my duty.”

The Prince looked down at you with a blank face, before disgust took over his fine, Targaryen features. Stepping ever closer to you, he held you by your wrists and looked you over, like cattle in the markets.

“Hm. Wouldn’t it be the greatest way to show my dear brother, the King, that I despise what he had done by just not touching you? Hm? So that I’ll be the next in line? Hm. I doubt that the Queen Mother really wished for me to bed you. Maybe you are just such a harlot that you’ve decided that you neded to get your fill again, now that my darling brother is burnt and crippled?”

His words stung, every syllable colored with venom. Your eyes welled up, threatening to spill over with unshed tears. Your heart clenched as he let go of your wrist. You turned away from him, unable to bear the scorn etched on his face.

“No,” you whispered lost in the silence of the room. “I am not a harlot,” you affirmed more firmly, turning back to him, your chin held high even as your eyes betrayed an ocean of hurt. “You know I am not. You know exactly what the King has done. Does that truly make me a whore? And I came here because it is my duty. Whether you choose to fulfill yours or not is up to you.”

Aemond crossed his arms over his chest, appearing unmoved by your heartfelt plea. But you saw something flicker in his eyes, a spark of understanding perhaps? It was quickly extinguished by a cold hardness that made you shiver despite the warmth of the room.

“Your duty?” he echoed, his tone laced with mockery and bitterness. “What a pleasant duty it must be for you – first my brother and now me?”

He began pacing around the room, looking more like a caged beast than a prince. You watched him quietly, feeling small and insignificant beneath his irate gaze.

After a long silence that felt like ages, Aemond stopped before the hearth, its flames casting ominous shadows on his face making him appear more dragon than man. He finally said in an eerily calm voice, “I will take you, then. Take you in every way known to man. You’ve been a whore once, so why not be a whore now? Give me my damned son and then you can go and fuck my corpse-like brother again for all I care.”

The words hit you like an ice-cold gust of wind in winter's heart. The world seemed to crumble around you as you grappled with the gravity of his words.

“My Prince, Prince Aemond,” you implored softly. But a single glare from him stopped your protest. “As you wish, my Prince.”

Silence between the two of you spread as the two of you stared at each other, not quite knowing what to do now.

“Take off your clothes, but be slow. With every piece of clothing that you lose you shall tell me what my brother had done to you. Tell me all about yourself and your wonderfully wretched body, my dearest Lady Wife,” he murmured and sank into a chair with a small smirk, pouring himself a cup of wine.

You felt like a deer caught in the glare of a predator, frozen and terrified. But this was your duty, as painful and degrading as it was. Each slow inhale and exhale felt like a shard of ice piercing your lungs as you reluctantly began to unlace your dress from the back. As the fabric loosened, you began to speak, each word echoing sharply in the silent room.

"His hands...he was rough with them," you started, trying to keep your voice steady. "He tore at my clothes with an eagerness that scared me."

The room was silent except for your voice and the soft rustling of fabric. The first layer of your dress fell to the ground, pooling around your feet. You could feel Aemond's gaze on you, cold and unyielding.

"He pinned me down in the council chambers...," you continued, paling slightly at the memory. "His breath stank of wine... he didn't even look at me... not really. I was two and ten, I’ve not even flowered then."

As you spoke, another layer fell away. You stood before him shivering slightly, feeling naked despite being partially clothed, your veil tickling you softly.

Your eyes met Aemond's gaze and for a moment, there was silence - a tense void filled with resentment, hatred – but also a seed of understanding that seemed to have sprouted from his icy demeanor.

“He didn't care about me... I was just an object to him,” you whispered, stepping out of your last dress, standing there like a doll, which some girl used to dress up, as you stood there in your shift, your hose and your luxurious headdress. “He always wanted me to tell him that I loved him. All while he was fucking me, scraping my face against stones, letting me bleed.”

Aemond’s eyes widened slightly at your statement while his jaw clenched tight. He downed the rest of his cup in one go and sat onto the bed, motioning you to come forth.

“That sounds like you were not a whore at all… but your gasps and moans were heard all through the Red Keep. Why did I always have to listen to your moans, never your sobs? Why did I even have to see you bouncing on his cock, tits out as if you were on the street of silk?” He asked slowly and bent you over his knees, methodically rolling up your shift to bare your arse to him.

All the heat rose to your face in embarrassment and anger as you tried to lie down in a more comfortable position, or, preferrably, to wriggle out of his grip completely. All you got, in return, was a hard slap against your supple arsecheeks. “Aemond! My P-prince! What are you-?”, you yelped, but were cut off by another rough spank.

"That's 'Prince Aemond' to you," he said, his tone firm. "And you will speak to me respectfully or you won't speak at all."

You bit your lip, forcing back the tears that were threatening to spill from your eyes as your face burned with shame. But under his gaze, you found the strength to continue.

"My... my moans," you choked out, swallowing dryly. "They were not of pleasure but of pain. The King... He... He enjoyed making me cry out..."

Another slap made you gasp with surprise, your body jerking under the sudden pain, your headdress jangling at the sudden motion. You glared at him, your eyes aflame with anger and hurt. But he remained stoic, his face impassive as he stared back at you.

"You were there in the shadows, watching... listening," you said bitterly. "Did it bring you pleasure too? Hearing my cries? Seeing my discomfort? Pumped your fist while I bled?"

Aemond didn't respond but his grip tightened on your wrist and for a moment his face hardened.

"Am I expected to believe that?" he asked softly. "You expect me to believe that it wasn't consensual? That you weren't enjoying yourself? You looked so serene. Like the statue of the maiden in the sept…"

His words were like a knife in your heart and you jerked away from him only to be pulled back into place by a strong hand on your shoulder.

"Look at me, woman," he commanded, forcing your head up so your eyes met his. There was a strange look in his eyes now – not quite apologetic but no longer filled with rage either. “Tell me that you’ll look at me the same way and that you will not be complaining, chattering or crying. I want you to be as serene as you were back then.”

Bile rose in the back of your throat but you nodded slowly, getting up, but yelped as Aemond ripped your shift off your body, leaving you there in your bejewelled veil and your stockings. Not for long though - he pushed you down onto his bed with a force that knocked the wind out of your lungs.

“Tell me you want me too. Tell me that you’ll be as wanton for me as you were for him,” he whispered into your ear, his long silver hair brushing over your shivering, naked form. “Don’t deny it, I know you liked it, just as you’ll like this… But I’ll be gentle, I’ll treat you like a Lady…”, he mumbled on as he fumbled with his doublet.

Was he… was your sick, twisted husband truly trying to get himself to forget that you were here against your will? That you would never truly give yourself to him or his brother?

You did not immediately reply and received another slap, this time against your mound, making you yelp. “I… uh… yes?”

"Good. That's a good girl," Aemond purred, his eye flashing dangerously in the candlelight as he worked the buttons of his doublet. "Remember, you're here to please me. You're here to make me feel like the king my brother is."

His words stung, but you chose not to respond. Instead, you lay stiffly on the bed, your eyes fixed on an intricate pattern on the ceiling, trying desperately not to think about what was about to happen.

"What happened with my brother... It doesn't matter now," Aemond said softly, interrupting your thoughts. He dropped his doublet onto the floor and moved to unbuckle his pantaloons. His eyes ran down your exposed form greedily. "I will make sure that it is different. I will make sure you enjoy this."

His hands roamed over your body — fingertips barely skimming your skin, followed by gentle caresses and soft strokes that made you shiver despite yourself. He was true to his word: he was gentle — at least so far.

"Stop it," you whispered, your voice breaking as you pulled away from him and covered yourself with your arms. "Please."

Aemond's brows furrowed in confusion — or perhaps frustration — as he looked at you questioningly.

"I said I want... I want you too," you lied through gritted teeth, forcing a smile onto your face. You had to keep him appeased — keep him from hurting you any further. "But I want you... naked too. Show me how I should touch you."

Your plea seemed to surprise him as he quickly rid himself of the last articled of clothing. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, such a wanton little wife I have. Laying there with Jewels and a modest veil covering her hair… wanting to touch me. Alright then, Lady Wife, touch me,” he tutted and pushed you back up onto your knees, his finger pressing against your chin. “And do keep your wonderful smile while you try and take me with your mouth.”

You looked down at Aemond, the glow of the draping curtains casting shadows along his chiseled body. Forcing a shaky breath through your lips, you nodded and gently wrapped your hand around his hard cock. The contact made him hiss and you glanced up through your lashes to see him watching you intently, a peculiar look in his eyes.

"Well? Don't just sit there," he growled, his fingers tangling in your hair, playing with your veil. You swallowed hard against the knot in your throat before you lowered your head down onto him, his swollen, leaking tip staring at you teasingly as you wrapped your lips around him, quickly bobbing up and down along.

But Aemond had different ideas. He guided you at a leisurely pace, drawing out the experience as he muttered deeply under his breath. His thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away a tear that hadn't fallen yet.

"Slow down," he murmured. "I want to enjoy this." The way he spoke to you was as if he truly believed that this was what you wanted too. It was like he was coaxing you along, encouraging you like one might a timid horse.

You could feel the heat radiating off him as he pulsed subtly under your touch, his fingers relaxing their grip on your hair as if he was trying to fight against the pleasure coursing through him. His other hand fumbled for something on the side table - a small vial of sweet smelling oil - and tilted it into his palm.

"Open," he commanded softly. As much as you didn't want to obey him, fear of punishment had you complying immediately. He slowly poured the warm liquid into your mouth before pulling back slightly to watch it run down your chin and onto your heaving tits. It tasted nice, at least, you thought. At least he hadn’t hurt you too much. At least, you thought with an embarrassed blush creeping up your cheeks, it felt… okay. Not good, not great, but there had been a certain head between your thighs. Maybe it had just been the lewdness of the situation.

"That's a good girl," Aemond purred in your ear, his voice thick with lust as his cock twitched against your cheek. "Now, back to it."

You swallowed him deeper this time, taking him all the way down, your nose brushing against his pubes. He moaned approvingly, his grip on your hair tightening again as he started bucking his hips into your eager mouth in short, shallow thrusts. Your mind drifted away as you thought of anything but what was happening: the feel of sea breeze on your face, the smell of wildflowers blooming on the hills of your home, and the sound of your mother singing one of her lullabies.

Aemond's breathing became ragged and uneven above you. "I'm close," he panted, warning you just before hot, sticky seed shot into your mouth. You didn't stop until he told you to pull away, gasping for air as you wiped your face and chest with the edge of the bedspread. There was a tense silence between you both before he finally spoke up again.

"Get on all fours and spread yourself for me," he said simply. “I wish to taste you.”

As you were unpinning your veil, you felt Aemond’s big, sleek hands on your shoulders as he shook his head. “No, keep that on. I want to fuck my little doll - the doll Mother has dressed, the doll my brother has played with. But now you are mine. My pretty doll. Taking me so innocently…”, he rambled once more as he lowered himself between your trembling thighs.

Were men not supposed to be spent after their release? What was he doing to you?

You braced yourself as best as you could against the intrusion, trying not to whimper as he spread your lips apart. His tongue lapped at your clit, teasingly at first, then firmly, compelling you to arch your back and cry out in both pleasure and pain. His fingers plunged inside of you simultaneously, stretching you impossibly wide while his tongue continued its ministrations on your overly sensitive button.

"You like that, don't you?" he asked smugly, his voice full of satisfaction. "Tell me you like it."

"I... I-I," you couldn't help but moan as he pressed his face against your core harder, his tongue leaving a trail of fire along your sensitive folds.

"Say it," he growled against your thighs, his cock hardening once more against your thigh.

"I... I like it," you panted. "Oh.. oh Gods Aemond - I like it. Just like - mmph!”

His finger pushed into you to the hilt, curling and stroking inside until you were trembling on the edge of climax. "Say my name again, whore," he demanded low.

"Aemond," you gasped out, panting for breath. "I - I like it Aemond!"

He chuckled darkly against your core, his tongue flicking over your clit furiously as his fingers moved in and out of your wet channel. The waves of pleasure crashed over you like a tsunami, rendering you helpless underneath him until your back arched from the mattress and you cried out his name once more, clenching around his invading digits.

He pulled back just as quickly as he'd started, leaving you panting and drenched with sweat. "Good girl," he praised, wiping his mouth with the back of his forearm before capturing your lips in a searing kiss, forcing his tongue roughly into your mouth. As much as you hated to admit it, your body responded to him regardless of what your mind thought of him; juices slicked between your thighs as he ground against your core, hardeness poking your soft flesh.

You hated it. You loved it. You hated him. You loved him. You -

"Now let's see how tight that cunt really is," he growled against your ear before roughly rolling you onto your stomach, spreading your legs apart and plunging his length inside with one smooth motion, placing your veil over your hair in a way his mother used to do in the sept.

You could do naught but squeal and moan, trying your hardest to push him out with your cunny while tears formed in your eyes. Did he not promise to be gentle? But if you were to complain, what would he do then? What was he doing now? Your mind raced incessantly.

Would he also want to call you Mother? Suckle on your teats after he was spent? Or was he different to Aegon? Aegon would’ve finished minutes ago, you thought nervously. Why was Aemond toying with you like that?

He pulled back, almost fully before slamming in again, mercilessly repeating the motion until you were begging for mercy. "Aegon was right," he grunted as he pounded into you, grunting with each thrust. "You are tighter than a maiden!"

The mention of his brother's name sent daggers through your heart and spurred you onwards. Your walls clenched and unclenched around him, desperately trying to force him out.

"Yes," he moaned, interpreting your actions as pleasure instead of pain. “That's it my pretty doll, squeeze me tighter... tighter! Show your husband how good you can treat him!”

With a final grunt, he released his seed inside you, collapsing on top of your trembling frame. "You're mine now, doll," he panted, spent but still hard inside of you. "Mine and only mine. Put on a cloak and go show yourself to Aegon in his sickbed. Show him my dripping seed. Tell him that you’re mine." A few seconds passed before he pulled himself out of you and turned away. “I’ll see you in a month, if your blood has come again. If not, well… Fare well, until you can hand me my heir. Good night.”

[kneelingshadowsalome]

🤠🫶:

I am CACKLING like a cartoon villain oh my GOD you are a genius!!! Of course the toxic king breaks his back of COURSE he does the fucking idiot (affectionate), so there's fuck-all he can do with reader's big announcement that this was all worth it and he can totally get some...yknow, in a couple months. AHHHHH. And she just wanted to give him something to look forward to, motivation for the physical therapy <33 (she boops his nose while he lays there wishing for death and cowering from her, of course she does, omg. i love them your honor!!)

and maybe she gets more confident now that he can't fucking move 💀💀 (lmao, oh god. König if you weren't such a menace this would have been easier for her a lot earlier and nobody would be in this situation) and maybe this leads to way more sensual  touching from her on her own initiative; she's curious, after all, and she does like him a lot and she's just trying to help him get better, you know? and König eats that shit up, starts telling her all about these itches and sore muscles he can't reach, could she be a dear (trying to act like he's not literally begging for her touch) and then he basically blacks out the first time her hands linger and drift, but probably better that than the things he was going to say to her. So König wants to die, this is too much, he's done, he's a goner each time she visits him. and damn her, she's a devoted little thing, never misses visiting hours. Always so sweet and caring towards him and it's the perfect image of a faithful, doting housewife without the wife or the house or the sex part of it lmao. And of course he can’t move when all this is happening!!! so basically just more torture and his mind just kind of breaks into little tiny pieces held together by demented lovesick lust-filled fantasies. he says some absolutely filthy things (makes the cunt licking look family friendly in comparison), he can't control it really anymore, and poor reader is shocked/horrified and blushing furiously, but thinks it's the medications and the pain and whatnot, tries to be understanding, only chides him once she gets her shock under control (and he's actually stone cold sober the entire fucking time lmao, but he ain't telling her that, she'd run if she knew). 

AND THEN MAYBE~~ (dun dun dun) one day reader is FINALLY reaching under the stupid hospital bed blanket - he can feel her soft little fingertips and carefully manicured nails travel down his abs, trace the V of his hips (my man is going to black out again, good lord) and she's looking at him with big round eyes and she's nervous she's going to do it wrong and he won't like it (as if), and it's taking FOREVER for her to get her hand between his legs bc sweet little thing just wants to do it right, and he's out of his mind, half-crying, whisper-begging at this point (it's probably not even English, not German either, just mindless pleas). Her hand FINALLY wraps around his length and he's lucky he doesn't cum right then and there; she's blushing so violently at taking a man in her hands for the first time and she's seeking HIS approval with those pretty doe eyes as she bites her lip. So of course that's when there's a knock at the door (the universe hates him, he's going to scream, whoever this is is lucky he can't move and they might die anyway from the blast radius of sheer rage) and a doctor comes in for daily rounds. Reader barely has time to yank her hand back before doc sticks his head through the privacy curtains and yep our man's heart might actually just stop, he is just going to keel over right then and there. 

so not even a handjob for our poor king <3 if he doesn’t die (lol) he transfers to in-home care IMMEDIATELY and finally gets reader to himself in a more private setting where he can lock the fucking door. this is the part where I look away lmao, I'd leave him blue-balled & suffering forever ...am i a mean person?? also RIP to that doctor. this verse is so hilarious & wonderful and i love it, feels like a tug of war between tropes and genres if that makes sense which results in your delightful genius works, thank you thank you <333

This is so beautiful. I am puddle & I can't thank you enough for collaborating & I LOVE YOU Howdy anon 💋 and um, I think I got a little too excited about their first time lol oops (I can't leave him blue-balled forever! Poor man would die of heart failure 🥺)

(Tamara and Demon (1864), Mihály von Zichy)

Word count: 3.7 k

CW: 18+ NSFW. Corruption kink goes brrrr. Masturbating, dirty talking, obsessive/yandere König. Awkward handjob. First time/virgin!reader. Kinda sweet and fluffy 🩷 Also coersion/mildly dubious consent, tread carefully!

A/N: You can find the story of König x virgin!reader and their relationship so far by following the tag (könig x virgin reader)

Oh she visits him alright!

She’s much braver now that König is bedridden and can’t move. They actually spend more time together after the weightlifting accident. The intense stares haven’t gone anywhere, he's actually gotten worse in that department, but otherwise, König is behaving quite nicely.

He seems to like it when she reads to him next to his bed, which is immensely cute in her opinion. Armed with a new book in the crook of her arm, she’s on her way to visit him again for another session.

She's already accustomed to simply floating in after giving his door a light rap. She's also gotten used to the sight of guns and knives and the smell of army storage, even the manly, pungent stench of sweat that lingers on top of it. 

But it’s not the potpourri of masculine military scents that stop her at the door and nearly make her drop her book.

The King himself is lying naked on the bed – well, naked except for the bag of a mask he seems to hold on to like it’s his soul. This time, she doesn’t even see it: her eyes fly straight to the towering erection he’s stroking, urgently with one hand while the other cups a pair of shaved, pale balls.

"König…?" 

The man who calls himself King curses – in German or in English, she can’t tell. The sight of him there, caught red-handed on touching himself, only makes her feel sorry for him. König has nowhere to run and hide, nothing to cover himself with, he's not supposed to even move yet. And he is not the one who should be embarrassed, after all, she's the one who barged in on his privacy. 

Although… König doesn't look embarrassed. 

He only looks drunk and sweaty and in need.

She thinks about turning back and leaving him with hurried excuses because what the hell is she supposed to do…? Read him a book? He is still gripping his cock like it’s a sword or something, breathing like he just ran a marathon. 

And speaking of swords, that weapon is far too big for her... Hell, she doesn’t know much about swords but she would deem that sword far too big for any woman.

If she were clever, she would run away from that stare and that huge, monstrous cock. But she’s not that clever, that much is clear because everyone she’s told she’s dating König have warned her about him. Every cell in her body is warning her of danger, but she keeps running back to him, over and over again…

Well, at least he can’t move, she thinks, takes a hesitant step, and places the book down on a table. Just when she’s about to whisper some calming, soothing words to this beast, the beast speaks.

"Take your clothes off," comes a husky command from the bed, and she freezes with her fingertips still on the cover of her cute little book about German fairytales (she knows König likes his fairytales bloody). 

Normally, she would make a scene out of such audacity. She might even storm out of the room and vow to never speak to him again for daring to talk to her like that.

But… 

He looks so desperate. König looks like a giant bound for torture on that bed. And he's not the only one who has been tormented these past few weeks… The incident at the hospital has plagued her dreams every night as she has tucked herself in with the memories of König's… sword.

Perhaps it would help with his pain if she offers him relief in his time of need. No harm can come from that, surely. She doesn't know how exactly taking her clothes off will help, but if that is his wish, then it’s the least she can do. 

To her and his surprise, her hands drift to the hem of the top she’s wearing. She’s feeling rather wild – something about seeing König completely naked yet unable to move is making her act like this. Like she's the brave one. Like she’s in control now.

Dedicated to her task, she pulls the shirt over her head.

Nothing moves on that bed for a good long while. As far as she can tell, König might've stopped breathing. But by the time she takes her bra off, there’s a swallow under that hood. Then the hand slowly starts to stroke again, the moist, slick sounds continue as her breasts fall free from their confinement. 

She’s breathing heavily too, and the man on the bed is stiff as a stone: every single muscle in his body is pulled taut as he stares at her breasts like they’re the Revelation of John. Then those blue eyes lift to her face just before another command is issued.

"Take off the rest."

"The–the rest…?"

"I just want to watch you." 

His voice is hoarse and croaky, and she feels even more sorry for him – König must be in so much pain and she just keeps on teasing him. She started this, so perhaps it’s better just to see it through. 

What’s crazy though is that he actually moans when she gets out of her pants, socks, and finally, her underwear. The slick sounds of fapping increase, and he’s moaning.

She hasn’t even touched him yet… She’s just standing there before him completely naked, heat pooling low in her belly as König continues to work himself with what looks like both pleasure and pain.

"Komm… Come here," he orders next, out of breath but surprisingly politely, and she has no other option than to approach his bed. She sits down as chastely as possible, then almost jumps back up when a steel-hard thigh brushes against hers.

"Touch it. Ja?" 

Her eyes grow as wide as they can go as she takes in the cock she has touched once before, briefly and under a hospital sheet. Now it’s right there, foreign and demanding. 

Better just to see it through, her mind tweets as her hand reaches out through what feels like water. Like before, there's a sharp intake of air under the hood as she takes him in her hand. It’s even hotter than she remembered, and gives a tight pull the instant her fingers wrap around it. 

"Like this…?" 

"Just like that…"

Her meek little mouse peeps and multiple bats of eyelashes are like drug to him, it seems. The man is as tight as a bowstring when she starts to move her hand up and down, mimicking the motions she just saw him do. They're not as fast as his, and her grip must be way gentler, but she seems to do surprisingly well for an inexperienced virgin. The poor man looks like he’s about to faint on that bed. 

What she doesn’t expect, however, is König to touch her.

A large, warm palm sweeps across her ribs and lands on her breast, softly, as if he's concerned that he might scare her off. She's the one who's stopped breathing now… And then he rubs her, squeezes her. Gently… Reverently.

"You're soft," comes a strained sigh from the bed as she tries to keep her own grip both tight and gentle. She’s starting to get so wet she fears she will stain his sheets. Bewildered, she tries to change her position, but the palm cupping her breast seems to have bound her to the bed too. Nothing moves, except her hand and his as they explore each other. A giant and an angel...

Something hot and wet meets her hand as she strokes him – is he cumming already…? But it can't be, she has heard there’s supposed to be quite a bit of it when a man cums, and there’s only a few ample drops of clear liquid oozing out of the slit on his tip.

"Can't wait for the day I get to make you scream," he rasps, and her heart is hammering in her chest as more cum-like liquid streams from the slit of his cock, adding to the lewd, moist sounds of the handjob she’s giving him.

König doesn’t know she has never even kissed a guy… 

"We'll… we'll get there," she tries to soothe him, thanking her lucky stars this man can't move.

"I want to fuck you," he continues, sounding more and more desperate. "Good and hard… until you cry under me. Want to see if you can take it all in."

"König…"

"It’s a long cock, ja? I can make you squirt."

"König, I'm still a virgin… You can't–"

"Nh–Sorry… sorry."

His head falls back on the pillow, his muscles relax just for the tiniest moment. But if she thought he would finally leave her to it, she was wrong. The hand of a giant killer drops between her legs next. 

She’s sitting on the bed like she would sit on a side saddle, with one leg slightly bent, giving the horniest man on earth good enough access to the heat between her legs. She doesn’t stop him – she doesn’t even want to – as broad fingertips meet her pubic hair and slip between her already slick folds. 

"...Was? Pretty angel is all wet," he comments on her state of mess. Approvingly: like all his fears have suddenly disappeared. 

She has to fight the urge to roll her head back and moan as those agile fingers start to give her full, generous strokes. She almost messes up her rhythm while stroking his cock, which seems to have gotten even harder.

His fingers delve into her with more courage, they tease her tight, tender nub with excited circles. She tries not to jolt and shiver as he makes her even more slick, tries to ignore how her nipples grow hard from that burning stare alone. 

"Such a pretty girl… and so wet. You sure you don't want it?"

She thinks about it – how it would feel if he somehow was able to take her on that bed. If he pushed that cock inside her and if it would hurt or make her moan even more. Even the thought of trying to fit that inside her makes her thighs feel like pudding.

"I don’t know… You're still recovering."

"Heh… That's not a problem. You can be on top. I'll help," he offers as if it’s a gentlemanly thing to do, to help her bounce on that huge cock. 

"I–I'd rather do it the classic way."

"I'll show you classic when I get better," he promises with unconcealed greed. "I'll show you all the other ways too. We’ll do it any way you like."

She tries hard not to whimper when hearing his promise. She tries her best to pleasure the biggest cock she’s ever seen. It’s ridiculous that it’s the only cock she’s ever seen... What sort of a cruel joke was it from the universe to choose this king-sized Austrian to be her first man? 

She wonders how König would react if she told him he’s too big for her.

Would he try to change her mind? Would he have a meltdown? 

Would he cry…? 

She doubts if this man ever cries. The last time a brutal soldier like him shed tears was probably when he was a kid. But he did look like he was about to cry that one time when she booped his nose... 

And despite being a cold-blooded soldier and somewhat awkward at times, König has always been so, so delicate with her. He's tender even now, touching her with the gentlest avarice there is. But that searing stare wants to possess her, devour her, and it makes her bite her lip nearly to the point of drawing blood.

"Sit on my face?" he offers next, this time sounding so desperate it's almost pathetic. 

Sit on his face… 

What would he even do? Lick her? Try to push his tongue inside her while finishing himself?

The thought alone makes her mess up her rhythm again and causes her pussy to pulse more wetness on his fingers. She secretly hopes he would slip at least one of those fingers inside.

"Let me see your cunt," he begs. God – this giant mercenary is begging to see her poor, aching pussy. "Just… let me at least taste you–"

She can’t even reply before the hand between her legs gives a sudden twitch and stops those delicious rubs. Actually, his whole body is going rigid. 

"König…? Am I hurting you?"

"I'm–gonna cum…" 

Oh god.

Oh god ohgod-

She's not sure what gives her more of a fright: the sound that leaves her soldier boyfriend as he cums, or the bright, hot flash of liquid that shoots from the cock in her hand.

He groans like it’s torture. Long and hard, so loud that she’s sure other people can hear it in the neighboring rooms, perhaps even further than that. There’s one, two, three spurts of thick, hot liquid, after that, she loses count because it spills to coat his stomach, it runs down her hand, and she’s pumping him in a frenzy while he just keeps on moaning.

"Slow, slow down–" he tries to groan in the middle of his climax and she obeys immediately, reveling in how his cock still throbs in her hand when she finally stops moving altogether. More cum gushes out with every strong pulse, even if the eruptions are less violent. Ropes of it already cover his abs, it coats her hand with thick film – it's far more than she would ever have expected, and a shiver goes through her as she imagines what it must feel like to take all of that semen inside her… 

"Ah… Das war wirklich…" König sighs dreamily while she must be looking like a startled deer.

Yes, that was really something… She doesn’t know what to do with his cock, or her hand, or the mess that coats half his body.

Luckily, he instructs her to take his old shirt from the floor and clean herself with it. She cleans him with it too, dabs the black t-shirt over his muscled stomach, even tries to swipe his crotch with it as gently as she can. 

König looks happier by the minute, looks at her like she’s an angel or something, and when she fully commits herself to getting him cleaned up, he gets another erection. She’s quite horrified – how is this even possible…? She thought men would need at least hours to get it back up again.

"Come on top," he offers, sounding all but seductive with that commanding tone. 

She swallows, thinking if König wants to be a "gentleman" and finish her too. With his tongue... or something else.

"Just for a hug? We don't have to put it in."

She seems to be under some spell tonight, because she simply drops the poor, cum-stained shirt back on the floor and crawls to the bed and on top of him.

König is hot and lean as she presses herself against him, her thighs now straddling the intimidating thing between his legs. Her head falls right beside his mask-covered face, and the smell of guns and fuel and sweat is prominent there, as is his natural odor, the woodland musk she has grown so fond of.

"There we go," his arms go around her waist, pressing her tighter against him. There’s no escape now, she thinks, but like always with König, she eventually softens and relaxes, molds against him… Accepts her fate.

"You did well, Meine Liebe," he even caresses her head as she slowly melts into his hold. "I’m sorry if I frightened you. Will you forgive me?"

"Um, of course."

"A gentleman should always apologize if he has upset his lady. Do you agree?"

"Uh… Yes."

"I promise to be a good man. The best man you could ever hope for."

She bites her lip as König continues to caress her. She’s far from upset, but she doesn’t want to tell him that and excite him too much. Otherwise he might end up hurting himself. He hugs her tight, and seems to have calmed down more than ever.

Is this what an orgasm does to a man...? The change is drastic, and her lover feels warm, and tender, and inviting. He even whispers more promises on her skin. They're nonsensical but gentle, König is probably trying to be romantic, but she can feel how his breaths grow heavier as time goes on. After all, they're both naked, pressed tightly together, closer than ever before, and he's having an erection again...

She tries not to shiver at the things he tells her. The husky promises of love and protection: "You are mine now, ja? Don’t be afraid. I would never hurt you. I will always keep you safe." And then, "You’re still wet, mein Mädchen… How about we practice just a little bit? We'll do it slow. Ja? I will make you moan…"

He coos those things in her ear while holding her in place for his cock. She starts to move on her own accord; it’s like her hips have their own will. Soon, her entrance meets the tip of him, still hot and bulged, and she starts to grind against it with barely restrained greed. She is wet – wetter than ever. 

König curses multiple times under his breath, and she feels so, so filthy for loving how unhinged he is, how unhinged she is – spread wide on top of him like that, trying to get off of the faintest touch of his cock. She’s so soaked that the hot tip of him glides across her folds with no effort at all. 

She feels like she’s doing something forbidden, taking her pleasure from him like that, but König doesn’t seem to know what the word filthy even means. He keeps praising her, guiding her, helping her, telling her how good she feels, that she’s doing so, so well.

Soon, he’s asking to put it in – just the tip. 

She tries her best not to sound too needy as she breathes a soft, mousy "Yes."

"How does that feel?"

He’s panting, few inches of thick cock inside her, and she thinks, did she just lose her virginity? Is this it? Why isn’t it hurting?

“You like that, hmm?”

He feels so, so good, pressing her against him, spreading her legs with his own, trying to feed more of that marvelous thickness inside. It doesn’t hurt, at least not yet. It makes her dizzy to even think what she must be looking like, with her legs spread and a huge cock partly inside her.

She should say something… What was it that he asked? Oh yes, if she likes it. She more than just likes it, and tries to push herself down to get more of him in. König reacts immediately with a ton of praise leveled at her in the softest possible way.

“That's it, that's it, pretty girl, take it in…”

Him cheering her on like that only makes her decide that it’s time to let go and let go for good. But she can’t get him in by herself, not while he’s holding her a prisoner like this.

"More… König, please," she hears herself whimper. 

God, is this all it took...? Him holding her close and letting her find the joys of sex herself? Apparently so, because he sounds goddamn smug when he turns his head to rasp more needy, throaty things in her ear.

"Ah… Knew you'd beg for it… "

His voice makes her inner walls clamp down on him, and that’s when it hurts, but only slightly. She wants him so much that it’s painful. And König… God, he keeps on showering her with praises and promises.

"I'll show you how good it can be… That's it, let me hear you. It's a good cock, ja? Good cock for a pretty girl…"

It’s not even fully in before he starts the thrusts. That’s when she knows she has lost her virginity. She’s being plunged. Not taken… Just… loved, thoroughly and deeply. 

When she moans, finally sounds as filthy as can be, he tells her how tight she is. How good she feels. He says he’s going to cum again soon. But not before her…

He doesn’t need to instruct her to rub her clit on his pelvis in rhythm with the thrusts. She is smart enough to do that by herself. And the thoughts of This is it, I’m not a virgin anymore have turned into Is it possible to cum on your first time…?

Everything’s perfect, all things considered. But there’s something missing.

"König," she swallows arduously. "I’ve never been kissed... Would you– Could you…?"

He stops moving, releases his hold a little. A strong heart is hammering inside his chest, she can feel it against her own fluttering heartbeat. 

Is it stupid of her to ask…? Will he only laugh at her for being so sentimental?

Apparently no, because it’s the warmest possible command that surrounds her this time.

"Lift the mask, angel."

By the time their lips meet, both hesitant and needy, he's fully inside her and holding her like a mountain. She feels like she's in a fairytale now: the only thing that moves is his mouth, and hers. Theirs is a slow, hungry rhythm. 

Her first kiss is not only awkwardly romantic and sweet, it’s sinfully good. 

The kiss also does things she did not expect. Her pussy goes tight around him, so tight that a whimper or two escape her nose, and König only purrs – she feels like the softest little creature in the embrace of a lean jaguar.

And she thinks… 

Why on earth didn't they do this months ago?

[muffinsin]

honestly Ive been so interested with what the hc of the sister would be when they got reborn. The emotions, confusion, love they got from Alcina. What did Alcina need to help them with. Like bathing,clothes,eating or even speaking. How did the other lords react to the girls and how did the girls react to the other lords.

I guess this will be more around them as new siblings and daughters to Alcina.

I would love to hear your thoughts about this but like always take your time.

This is so wholesome🙌 Let’s get into it! :)

Masterlists

A mass of flies, withering, chirping, moving here and there. This is how it began

Nothing special, even, Alcina thought back then. Flies. Insects. A pest

Was it a punishment? She had asked for daughters, not pets. Certainly not such tiny, winged ones

What a cruel gift it was

Of course, she looked after the three large piles of flies. After all, they were given to her by Mother Miranda. But- why? Would the insects become drone-like spies, perhaps? Alcina scowled at the thought, back then. Surely, these things would be by far better off at Heisenberg’s!

What a cruel fate, after she had been given the promise of daughters! Three girls. Instead, three piles of nearly dead, rotting, insects

What to do with the bedrooms?

The cribs?

The toys?

The pacifiers?

The tiny dresses? The cute shoes she had purchased for her future daughters?

The countless hours spent at night trying to come up with names for the trio she would soon help deliver into this world

Perhaps, it is good she couldn’t come up with any so far. Not that rotting, infected insect-drone-spies would be worth any name! Something of no consciousness, no thought, no sense of self awareness

At least, this is what she thought…

Bela

Alcina remembers the day her eldest came into the world perfectly well

She remembers the snowy wind smashing against the windows, the cold breeze in the castle fought off by warm air from the fireplace

She remembers sitting by such a fireplace, down in the cellars, writing her usual reports on the cadou-infected flies when suddenly…she heard a sound

A cracking. Small, and squishy. Alarmed, she had jumped up. It sounded almost as though the insects were…splitting..!

And to her greatest surprise and horror, they did

Thousands she so carefully tended to, simply snapping in half and splitting open

Only, did new ones crawl from them. More, and more. So many she had to take a step back

Then, her golden eyes widened as the flies assumed a form

A woman, petite and slim, sitting on the floor, biting the air and squealing quietly as if in fear of the strange amount of insects whirling around

A woman…

A daughter? Could it be?

She remembers, she suddenly felt anxiety. She had not anticipated this any more. Suddenly, she thought of all the emotions her appearance would trigger

Pain. Fear. Hurt. Anger. Disgust

Would she scare the woman off the moment she came into this world?

When the woman turned, it was Alcina who was startled, though

The woman sported a pair of beautiful, bright golden eyes, such as Alcina’s

She bore golden locks of hair, smeared with blood and with dead insects stuck inside, yet beautiful in their colour nonetheless

Then, a squeak came from the blonde again. She looked up at her, worried

“Mama”

Alcina still cannot comprehend why she had said it. She simply felt it, then, when those wide, fearful, golden eyes looked up at her. Fear, that was not directed at her

And the woman? She so eagerly beamed at the phrase, as if understanding her

Upon closer inspection, Alcina noticed: while locked in the body of an adult, the woman seemed truly reborn. Her child

Her daughter

Neither of them needed words from the blonde- they both understood the deep bond created

With a smile tugging at her lips, Alcina still remembers the thought that had come to her then:

“My beautiful girl. I know you will be a bright one, my dear. I will name you, Bela”

Again, the reborn smiled widely. Alcina heard the flies surrounding them buzzing happily

Yes, a smart one indeed, to seemingly understand her mother, even if she was unable to respond properly back then

With a warm smile, she picked her eldest up, and with a look thrown over her shoulder at the other two piles of flies, she held her darling Bela close, her embrace promising unconditional love, care, protection and warmth

Cassandra

Just as with her eldest, Alcina often fondly thinks back to the rebirth of her fierce middle child

She remembers having put Bela to bed, a makeshift crib in her own bed; she hadn’t quite anticipated her daughters to be adult-sized, though looking back, she could face palm at such naivety

Unlike with Bela however, she was prepared this time

Equipped with warm clothing and a glass of blood, she waited at the table in the warm room, until finally, she heard the strange noise again

Wet, squishy cracks. Loud buzzing, as if irritated

She heard the frustrated squeals and whimpers immediately as her second child was reborn

Upon gazing down at her, Alcina noticed: this one was a brunette, with strong, deep golden eyes. A lazy eye, and thick lips covered in blood. Whose? Alcina has yet to figure that out to this day

She remembers the little one’s growls and squeals to make up for words unable to be spoken

And yet, she understood her daughter’s frustration immediately

“Calm yourself, darling”, she coaxed, one of her large hands gently cupping the infantile woman’s head while the other made quick work of swatting away the flies that buzzed around her and irritated her so

“There, it’s all good, my little fly”, she hummed

Yet, it was then her turn to squeak in surprise, when she went to brush the blood from her daughter’s lips and felt sharp, untrained teeth dig into her hand instead

Shocked, she drew her hand back with a loud roar coming from the unexpected pain

And yet, no anger that bubbled up in her came to surface, as the quivering lip and wide, surprised eyes belonging to her daughter were indication enough that she did not intend to harm her

As such, a smile came to her lips. She had found the proper name for this one, and with her injured hand cupping the brunette’s face, she announced:

“Cassandra, my fiery little huntress”

Like her eldest, Cassandra seemed to understand her, too, clasping her hands eagerly

And again, she heard the flies her darling was made of buzz excitedly and warmly. A bond, a promise

And yet, unlike little Bela, this one was less eager to be picked up by her mother, so when she was taken under her armpits, she merely growled and phased right through Alcina in the form of many, little swarms of flies

Confused, she had titled her head. She still laughs a little upon remembering this

It took a few more tries and coaxing, even convincing the reborn toddler-like brunette that she could not walk just yet, but eventually she felt her middle child against her, too

And while she expected her to be fussy, she was anything but

In fact, Alcina noted how still the brunette became, utterly focused on patting at her chest in an attempt to reach and touch the heart she felt and heard beating gently underneath

At last, with a smile and a warm, loving kiss pressed to Cassandra’s forehead, she promised love, care, protection and warmth, too

Daniela

Two daughters reborn, tucked in in her large bed, cuddled into one another, snoring and whining at one another in their sleep

Twisting and turning, stealing their blankets from one another until Alcina tucked them in one each and wrapped them up snugly

However, a single pile is remaining

The youngest daughter

Alcina’s heart skipped a beat at the thought. Three daughters. Her daughters. Hers to raise, to guide, to love and nurture, to look after, to protect with her life should it come down to it

This time, Alcina was completely prepared, having learned from Cassandra that her youngest might also awaken with a near insatiable feeling of hunger

Her head snapped to the side, then. Ah, yes

The noise, again

When she heard the by then familiar snapping and cracking, she jumped to her feet quickly, eager to get close to the pile of flies

This time, however, her daughter seemed to have issues finding her way around in their swarm. Squeals and whines, growls and mewls were heard

Then, a hand reached out

Alcina nearly gasped in surprise when it latched onto her own, five fingers wrapping around her index and middle finger with surprising strength

“It’s all right, little one, they will calm soon”, she promised as the little bundle of flies and limbs seemed to grow fussy at the insects swarming around her

Then, slowly, more was revealed

Auburn hair, equally sticky and tangled with flies and blood, but evidently soft and long

A button nose, poking up and scrunching up in-between the swarms of flies

Upon tapping it with her fingertip, a little squeal was heard from the swarm. Alcina could have sworn the love she felt then shot right from her heart

Then, soft cheeks, with some baby fat still that her sister lack, soft, pink lips, and lastly, equally golden eyes

But they were special, too

It seems the cadou did not fully take this one’s eyes over, she noted, for she saw specks of green mixed into the gold irises

Then; another wave of emotions hit her. However, this one did not originate from her, but from the flies surrounding her and slowly bonding and connecting with her through the cadou they shared

A feeling was shared. Love. Confusion. Dependency

“I’m here, my little Daniela”, Alcina spoke lovingly

Unlike her sisters, the tiny redhead neither struggled, nor showed disinterest as she was picked off the cold floor, but rather immediately pushed herself to her mother and headbutted her neck affectionately

Alcina smiled, and with a reassuring squeeze of her youngest daughter’s back, she let her know of the love, care, protection and warmth she would always receive unconditionally, too

After this, life at the castle changed drastically, as did Alcina’s

Too little to walk, too little to stand, she was usually seen walking with three women attached to her

One, cradled in her left arm, the other in the right, and the third sat on top of her shoulders, as if a cat lounging on a window sill

She bathed them, and for the first few years would be the only to bathe them

Partly, this was to protect the staff from her daughters and their seemingly insatiable bloodlust, especially in their early years

Partly, it was merely protectiveness and possessiveness over her little ones

This was also made apparent in the way she kept them close at night

For the first few years, the three sisters slept in her bed, and eagerly so, tucked close like hatchlings sticking to their dragon mama. And right it was

One of the earliest activities done together was learning how to stand, walk and swarm

Cassandra, the stubborn little thing, was the first to succeed, swarming about happily and squealing while her sisters still stood like baby deers on their shaky legs

Still, Alcina praised each and every one of them for every little achievement they made

Whether this was standing, waddling to her occasionally, walking, or even swarming successfully

Then, there came hunting. A primal desire, but a necessary act her daughters seemed to enjoy a lot

Again, Cassandra picked up on catching her prey especially early on. Relying on strength she was gifted with, the brunette took down boars even in her first few years of her reborn life

Then, however, Alcina discovered it was Daniela who caught up quickly- quite literally

She realised, somewhat proud and dreadful at the same time, she had a runner

A quick little thing indeed, darting corners and scurrying along quickly the moment she mastered walking and swarming

Often, the tall, intimidating lady of castle Dimitrescu was seen chasing her youngest for all kinds of reasons, whether that be baths, mealtimes, bedtimes, or simply to catch her little runaway and prevent her from stumbling down some stairs

And while Bela certainly did not lack the quality to hunt with her sisters, Alcina noticed early on that her eldest took joy in other things

This way, she often sliced a deer the eldest was chasing, aware that she would be demotivated easily and was not as fast nor strong as her sisters

However, in the later years, Bela’s talent was discovered quickly: an academic one

For Bela was the one to learn to write, read and speak the quickest

Something Alcina has noticed and finds endearing to this very day, is that even back then her eldest copied her language, using phrases she heard her say and repeating them like a parrot

Funnily enough, this is where “man-thing” finds its origin; her eldest, repeating phrase after phrase like a parrot, catching this and that and mixing things here and there

So when Alcina one day complained about a man pathetic enough to attempt to sell her things, of course, her little parrot picked it up right away, lisping about what a “horrible man-thing” he was!

She decided she liked the phrase, and while Bela is unaware of what she has started to this day, she all too happily received the praise and head scratches she was showered in for her little slip up

In time, all three sisters are taught to read, write and express themselves properly. Enough so that Alcina encourages them to pick up more hobbies

And she was again there, supporting them though it all

She spent hours a day with bright little Bela on her lap, reading up on this and that, explaining hidden meanings to her daughter

Often, she’d keep her eldest with her at work, her presence soothing in difficult times, her curiosity refreshing

Then, of course, there was hunting with Cassandra. She always made sure to make extra time for this activity with her middle child

Afterwards, it was not uncommon for them to talk of weapons, another hobby and interest Alcina encouraged her to pursue

And lastly, her little Daniela, with her head up in the clouds, asking for Mother’s help with planting flowers and decorating the castle

She too encouraged her youngest in this, and smiles to this day when she enters rooms in the castle decorated by her bright girl

Of course, the library is among those, the room in which countless hours were spent reading and recreating fairytales

And the lords? Yes, they certainly knew a lot of the three fly-spawns

And still, Alcina saved it for a good century until they were allowed near. If only because it took her some good years to help them manage their bloodlust

The first Lord to meet them is Donna, the most trusted in Alcina’s eyes

The second, perhaps surprisingly, is Heisenberg

And while she lightly encouraged her darlings to tease and annoy him during his stay, to make his life a little more difficult, she found- to her greatest annoyance- that her two youngest absolutely loved the Lord, even as Bela stayed by her side to glare at the man-thing from across the room

Yet..she could not deny them the visits to the factory ever so often, even as they returned with sweaty dresses from hot steam and a strong smell of Lycans and metal

And why? Simply because they wore such precious smiles, talking for hours to no end about the newest soldiers and weapons crafted

Yes, her daughter’s smile whenever the factory was brought up was enough for her to tolerate the man-thing

And lastly, they were taken to a Lord’s meeting all at once, and only once, centuries after their rebirth

While Alcina talks about her daughters a lot, she prefers to keep them hidden away from the Lords and the meetings as much as she can

[acepalindrome]

I’ve seen lots of fics about Emmrich wanting to have kids, sometimes manifesting in the form of intensely horny breeding kink, but often just soft and bittersweet longing for something he thinks he’s missed his opportunity to have.

And I love that, but let me propose the concept of Emmlich accidentally acquiring a baby.

It was not planned. It cannot be overstated how much he did not plan this. He had made his peace with lichdom closing certain doors for him! Of course he had longed for a grand romance and marriage and a family when he was young, but he understands that there are sacrifices for the path he chose.

But then Rook happens, and he finds someone who truly loves him and wants to spend the rest of their life with him even after he becomes a lich. It’s more than he could ever hope for.

And yes, maybe if Manfred had lived, he could have had that dream of having a child too. But he had chosen to respect Manfred’s sacrifice. He’s accepted it, but he’s still grieving. He’s accepted it, but he’s still processing the fact that he had just begun to truly think of Manfred as his son when he lost him. Having Rook with him helps. That’s enough. He can be happy with what he has.

And then he finds a baby.

He hears the poor little thing crying while he was out handling a spirit causing trouble in the Nevarran countryside, and finds the deceased mother nearby. It looks like some kind of terrible accident, but the child was spared, and after a brief examination, seems uninjured and in decent health. But the little dear is so cold, and who knows how long it’s been since she’s been fed! He can’t just leave her!

His body doesn’t produce heat on its own anymore, but he casts a warming enchantment on his cloak, bundles the little one up, and heads back to the nearby village. No one seems to know mother or baby, and he can’t place the burden of another mouth to feed on the people of this humble village. He will find an appropriate solution, he assures them, although he does gratefully accept some baby supplies they are able to give him to help in the journey back to the Necropolis.

He’s going to turn the baby over to the Mourn Watch. That is absolutely what he’s going to do. That is the right and responsible thing. He was raised by the Mourn Watch, after all! They had been good to him, provided for his needs, made certain that he was safe and cared for, provided him with an excellent education!

…but he also remembers being small and crying into his pillow because he missed the warmth and comfort and unconditional love of his parents.

…all the same. He’s a lich. Children are not in the equation. And the lich lords would surely disapprove! …wouldn’t they?

And then while he’s giving her a bottle during one of their many stops on the way back, she grabs his bandaged skeletal finger in her chubby little hand and won’t let go. He doesn’t even have a heart anymore, but it’s melting all the same.

…he’ll think about what to do when he gets home. He should talk it over with Rook before he makes any decisions about where to take the child. That is just the responsible thing to do.

He is NOT daydreaming about the possibility of actually getting to raise a child with Rook. He is NOT overcome by how right it feels to hold a baby in his arms and to make her feel safe and cared for. And he is especially NOT thinking about baby names! (Fredrica, in honor of Manfred?)

Rook is away on business, and returns to their home about a week later. There are recently washed baby bottles drying on the kitchen counter. There are a variety of rattles, stuffed animals and little toys in the living room. The laundry is enchanted to wash itself, and a peak inside the soapy water reveals a number of very tiny articles of clothing, all suspiciously matching Emmrich’s aesthetics.

Rook eventually finds their husband in the bedroom, which has now gained a very finely made crib with a darling mobile of little Nevarran beetles dangling overhead. There is an enchantment in place to play soothing sounds and muffle noise from the outside.

Rook finds Emmrich in the armchair with a baby on his lap, several blankets spread over his legs to cushion his femur bones for the little one. He appears to be playing a variation of peek-a-boo, in which he summons his glamor and then quickly dispels it, over and over. Judging from the happy gurgling sounds, the baby finds this all highly amusing.

And then Emmrich realizes that Rook has returned home.

Rook listens to the lengthy explanation, and very generously humors Emmrich when he continues to talk as if he’s still seriously considering giving the baby to the Mourn Watch, as if the man hasn’t bought out the entirety of the Nevarra City branch of Baby Gap in the week Rook was gone. Of course, dear, you were just picking up a few essentials while you decided what to do. You bought the baby a tiny little outfit that perfectly matches the color scheme of your favorite robes. There are six different rattles and teethers on your desk. Where on earth did you find diaper pins decorated with little skulls? Only the bare necessities, clearly.

“I never seriously thought about having kids,” Rook says, after they’re done with the gentle ribbing. “It was just kind of a nice idea, you know? Settling down, raising a kid. I assumed I’d probably die young, leading the life I do. But seeing you holding a baby…it looks right. It feels right.”

“It feels right to me as well, dearest.”

They spend the rest of the night talking about it. The logistics of raising a child. The changes they’ll need to make. How all of this will work. But they decide to try. They want to try.

Predictably, the lich lords aren’t entirely approving. This is unprecedented behavior. Many liches have had spouses and children, but it was all well before they achieved lichdom. To become a lich, and then allow all these very mortal attachments? It does not seem entirely wise to them. But there is nothing technically disallowing it. Tread carefully, Young Volkarin.

And he does. He does everything in his power to uphold his responsibilities as a lich, while still being the best possible husband and father. Little Fredrica grows up surrounded by love and care and happiness.

And then, many years later, Rook dies. It was the natural end of a long life well lived. They passed peacefully in their own bed.

Emmrich is heartbroken, of course. But he isn’t alone. He has Fredrica, who is by now grown and with a spouse and children of her own, and they lean on and support each other through their grief. The lich lords had worried how such attachments might have twisted him, pushed him to terrible lengths, but instead it’s those attachments that allow him to carry on through the grief.

Many more years pass, and Fredrica dies. Emmrich buries her in the plot next to Rook and his parents. His grandchildren and great grandchildren are there to help him grieve, and to be helped by him in turn.

It never stops hurting, losing the people he loves, but he’s never alone. He has a family, one that grows with each new generation, and he loves and cherishes them all.

Some day, very many years down the road, a young mage with the surname Volkarin is officially made a Mourn Watcher at his graduation ceremony, while his great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather watches with pride. He is very old, and very happy.

[magicgalatica]

My Lioness~

Yandere! Apollo (Record Of Ragnarok) x Amazon Warrior! Female Reader

“You’ll Be Mine, Sunshine.”

——————————————————————————

Apollo had met many woman in his life…. Some of Royalty, Maidens, Worshippers, and Nymph’s. Who all adore and admire him for his beauty and charm. Praising him. Drawn to him like moths to glowing light. To which Apollo rewarded them gracefully, pleased to himself. For these woman before him are always at his feet. Come to his beckoning call. To please him if needed.

That was until he saw……

You.

Unlike of those he seen throughout his existence and him roaming onto the mortal realm. You were different….. very different. Instead of focusing on beauty or fashion compared to most woman within the Roman towns. Y/n had no interest. Her eyes focused on something else. Battling beast and challenges set before her. What caught his ear was that you were well known within the Roman town. Known as: The Lioness. Apollo himself wondered why such a title was given to you. Until he learned why. Due to the strong pride you carried when you fight. Either men or monster. Along with your lions that follow your every path. Wearing a lion helmet, shield in one hand and spear in the other. Eyes holding focus. Apollo wondered how such woman would have very strength. Till his question was quickly answered by one of his worshippers. You were a Amazon. A powerful one at that. Able to throw a man onto his back or take a large boar down with ease. Apollo couldn’t help but be so drawn by a very beautiful powerful Amazon. His worshippers took notice and grew jealous. However he ignored them. Plotting on how he should face you directly to introduce himself. Which it wasn’t long for him to figure out since there’s on spot you enjoy to yourself away from everyone. A soft grassy area. Under a large tree that gave shade. Y/n leaned against it to rest herself by her male lion that laid beside her. Breathing softly. Breeze gently brushing. Inhaling air once more. Enjoying silence that held. Only to last for a second as light beamed near her. Y/n opened her eyes, adjusting before moving her gaze to see a male with long blonde hair and clothing the gave of royalty or rather just godly. Apollo gazed upon Y/n who was gazing at him with her e/c. Apollo grinned at her.

“Hello dear maiden, I am Apollo.” He said in a soft tone and gave her a seductive wink.

Y/n however didn’t seem to budge nor flinch at his wink. Or just wasn’t interested. Mainly just registering what he said to her. To which surprised Apollo, normally adjusted to woman immediately falling for him quickly or praise him. But for you, you didn’t show any signs of quick interest. Just a plain gaze.

“Oh you must be the sun god.”

Even tho her voice held respect, her face remained the same. Y/n stood and faced him.

“My apologies for not realizing it was you.”

Oh how her voice sounded lovely to Apollo’s ears.

“It is alright my dear.”

Y/n stood in front of him. Her eyes locked onto his own. Getting a better view of each other. Or rather Apollo getting a better view. Admiring. Her muscles. Her gaze. Her aura. A few scars here and there but it didn’t bother him much. Like she was tiny drop of sun in front of him. So dazzling. So beautiful. He badly wanted his fingers to trace onto her. To feel her. Hold her close to his own body.

“LADY Y/N!” A voice shouted, disturbing them.

Anger flowed within Apollo of the disturbance. Y/n turn away to the voice that sounded within air. No. You were supposed to be focused on him. ON HIM.

“What is it?” Y/n spoke, focusing on the man.

“Beast… Beast are attacking the village.”

Y/n tensed before turning to Apollo.

“I apologize my lord. I must go.” She says to him, taking her spear and shield. Running down the hill to the village to aid.

Apollo stood, watching her disappearing into the distance. Yet the anger still lingered in his body. Why must these mortals request YOU to defeat these monstrosities when they themselves are cocky enough to fight. Especially since they a disturbed their little greeting to each other. Apollo took a deep breath to relieve his anger. He will just have to try to gain your attention again…. Without disturbance.

It became constant. Him facing you. Greeting you. Often bringing gifts. Praising you. You didn’t mind it. But you did point out he didn’t have to bring gifts and praising her. Yet he insisted. Even if you were stubborn about it.

He adored how stubborn you were about it. Like if you were scolding him but not really. Flustered, yet it was so rare for her to be. Though his flirting doesn’t get through her. Pushing that aside rather quickly.

He loved her.

No.

He was obsessed.

To a point he ignored other woman. His eyes focused on her and her alone. Truly like a moth to a dazzling light. Drawn more and more. Obsession growing deeper into him. Causing his emotions to go berserk when near her. To a point he’ll hold her close if they ever enter Roman towns. Nobody dared to bother them, not wanting to enrage the god. Yet Y/n was… dense about it but did question the sun god of him having her so close to him.

“To make sure no one would dare dirty your purity and beauty my sunshine.”

He was true to his own words.

He wouldn’t allow anyone to do so.

That was until a drunken man tried to. Whistling and yet tried to be handsy. Although that ended with him being thrown onto the ground by Y/n. Knocking the wind out of him. However in Apollo’s eyes….

That wasn’t enough.

Maybe a little Devine punishment would teach him a manner… even if it means having to join underworlds gates. Having to excuse himself away for his personal reasons. His eyes glowing with anger. Following where this drunken man has went. Noticing a stumbling body a few feet in front of him. His anger boiled as the man heard his footsteps. Turning to him. Eyes blinking. Trying to get a better view. Then he sobered up when reality hit him. Seeing the sun god standing before him.

“L-Lord Apollo-“

“Silence.”

The man become silent as Apollo glared at him intently. Causing the man to shiver.

“You dare to put your filthy hands onto her beauty.”

“My lord I’m sorry..”

“Sorry won’t take back the action you attempted.”

Apollo twitched his finger as a bow glowed with his hand.

“My lord please-“

Apollo pulled back the string, his cold gaze focused on the man that quivered before him.

“Pleading won’t save you.”

Y/n noticed a glow within the forest. She took a step forward but froze when a wave uncertainty course through her. Like if it was telling to not enter. Apollo appeared before her. Grinning.

“I apologize my sunshine. I had to talk to him to make sure he apologized for his behavior.”

Y/n however, felt like that wasn’t the truth. She didn’t question him about it. Especially when a part of her didn’t wish to push for it to anger him.

Months passed by as many begin to disappear. Y/n begin to question the people of what may caused this. Some believe animals may have gotten to them or moved away. Which was left unknown of the true happening of the missing. Making Y/n concerned although Apollo suggested to worry much of it. Y/n wasn’t at ease tho. Leave but abandon their items. To which was off in Y/n’s eyes. But for now this isn’t at her concern as much it bothered her.

“Lord Apollo. I believe this may be our last time we might speak.”

Apollo raised a brow.

“Why is that sunshine.”

Y/n gazed at him.

“I’ve been summoned in aid for a battle that will commence.”

Apollo’s eyes narrowed as anger filled him.

“I must rest at my housing before I head off in the morning to join the Spartans for the battle.”

Apollo though not showing it, was enraged. Why must humanity deserve your strength and power. Your beauty. Do you not understand. Their using you. Y/n breathes out. Facing him once again.

“I bid you farewell my lord. For I must rest now. Till we meet again.”

Y/n turned away as Apollo stared at her. Watching her walk away from him.

Agitation ignited in Apollo. Humanity doing this. They didn’t deserve you. And you didn’t deserve to be near them. He had to take you away. No.

He needed to take you away.

Night took the sky for Nyx stepped out. Y/n breathes out as she laid amongst her bed. Easing her body. Adjusting before darkness took her eyes to sleep. Tension in her body easing up. Resting slowly into the bedding.

Outside, a dim light glowed as Apollo stood next to her bedding. Staring down at her with glowing eyes. Seeing her asleep peacefully.

Perfect.

Gently moving the hair away from her face as she slept. Sliding her arms under her body. Making sure with movement, he couldn’t wake her up. Lifting her up. Bodies closed together. Apollo walked outside with her in his arms. When you awaken. You wouldn’t be in the human realm no more for you didn’t belong there. You belonged at his side. You were his sunshine.

If you didn’t understand.

He’ll make you understand.

That humanity is what you don’t need. He’ll be all of what you need. He’ll spoil you. Praise you. Pleasure you.

He is yours, and You are his.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Sleepy Bitch Syndrome: Chapter Seven

Sleepy Bitch Syndrome: You've got narcolepsy and have been visiting the Dreaming daily for years. Then its Lord and King finally return and he doesn't know quite what to think of you.

Warnings: None.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x Narcoleptic!Reader, for you dear @aralezinspace.

Word Count: ~2.9k

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As you stand at the edge of the lake, Morpheus' words echo in your mind. The peacefulness of the scene is interrupted by a gentle tug at your consciousness. The next moment, you find yourself back in the palace, surrounded by bustling staff.

They flutter around you, their excitement palpable. You catch snippets of their conversation as they work, their voices light and musical. A celebration. Dressing up. Well if they were so excited you’d go along with them!

"The celebration day in the market! It's always such a grand event."

"And we finally have someone to prepare for it!"

You can’t help but smile at their enthusiasm. One of them—a young woman with bright eyes and quick hands—gently guides you to a chair. She gestures for you to sit, her face alight with joy.

"We have something special for you," she says, her tone full of anticipation.

Another staff member brings out a dress unlike any you've ever seen. It's woven from stars and galaxies, the fabric shimmering and shifting as if alive. You reach out to touch it, feeling the cool, silky texture under your fingers.

"It's beautiful," you whisper, awe-struck.

The young woman beams at you. "It was crafted especially for this occasion. We thought it fitting for someone so unique."

They help you into the dress with practiced ease, each movement precise and gentle. As they fasten the last clasp, you catch a glimpse of yourself in a nearby mirror. The dress hugs your form perfectly, the celestial patterns swirling around you in an enchanting dance.

"How do I look?" you ask, turning to face them.

The staff step back to admire their work, their faces lighting up with pride.

"Like a dream," one of them says softly.

Another staff member approaches with a delicate tiara adorned with tiny stars that twinkle softly. You wanted to tell them that it was a little overboard, but they were so excited to tend to you, you didn't have the heart to say no. They place it gently on your head, adjusting it until it's just right.

"There," they say, stepping back once more. "Now you're ready."

The palace staff usher you outside, their excitement bubbling over. The bridge connecting the palace to the town is lined with lanterns that glow like captured fireflies, casting a warm, inviting light. You hurry across, eager to experience your first festival in the Dreaming. As you step into the market square, the air buzzes with life. Stalls stretch as far as you can see, each more fantastical than the last.

To your left, a vendor sells bottles filled with dreams. The glass containers shimmer with colors that shift and swirl, reflecting scenes of soaring through clouds or swimming with bioluminescent creatures in deep oceans. You watch as a child selects a bottle, her eyes wide with wonder. She uncorks it and is instantly enveloped in a soft, radiant glow.

"Best dreams in the land," the vendor boasts, his grin as wide as the sky.

Next to him, another stall offers nightmares. Unlike the dreams, these bottles are dark and opaque, their contents hidden from view. A hooded figure examines one carefully before nodding and exchanging coins for it.

"Why would anyone want a nightmare?" you wonder aloud.

The vendor catches your eye and smiles knowingly. "Not all nightmares are bad. Some teach us valuable lessons."

You continue down the row, drawn by the rich scent of exotic spices from a nearby stall. The vendor there waves you over enthusiastically.

"Try this," he urges, handing you a small pouch filled with vibrant red powder. "It's made from the dreams of ancient warriors."

You take a pinch and sprinkle it on your tongue. A rush of heat floods your senses, followed by visions of epic battles and heroic feats. Your heart races with adrenaline and you hand itches to snatch a blade from your waist and toy with it. A blade which you do not have.

"Impressive," you manage to say, breathless, looking down to double check that you indeed, do not have a sword or dagger hanging from the skirt of your dress.

Further along, a group of musicians plays instruments crafted from moonbeams and stardust. Their melodies weave through the air, enchanting everyone who hears them. You pause to listen, feeling the music resonate deep within your soul.

A little further down the path, an artist paints canvases with scenes from people’s dreams. Each brushstroke seems to bring the image to life—trees that sway in an unseen breeze, rivers that shimmer like liquid silver. You watch in awe as she transforms a blank canvas into a vivid dreamscape.

"Would you like me to paint yours?" she asks without looking up from her work.

You consider it for a moment before shaking your head gently. You didn't quite feel like yourself and didn't want a portrait to reflect that. "Not today."

She nods in understanding and continues painting.

As you wander through the market, you realize that every vendor offers not just goods but experiences—each one unique and deeply personal. You are so glad you decided to come. To think you might have missed this! The air hums with magic and possibility, making it clear why this celebration is so beloved by all who attend.

As you stroll through the bustling market, you catch a whiff of something sweet and buttery. Your stomach rumbles in response, reminding you that you haven't eaten since arriving in the Dreaming. Following the tantalizing aroma, you find a stall adorned with golden pastries. Each one sparkles as if dusted with tiny flecks of sunlight.

"Care to try one?" a gravelly voice asks.

You turn to see Mervyn standing behind the counter. His eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles, a rare sight for someone usually so stern.

"Don't mind if I do," you reply, reaching for a pastry.

Mervyn chuckles and hands it to you with a flourish. "Golden flour, harvested from the fields of dawn. Best you'll ever taste."

You take a bite and your taste buds sing in delight. The pastry is warm and flaky, with a hint of honey that lingers on your tongue. Mervyn watches you with amusement as you savor each bite.

"Good, huh?" he asks, leaning against the counter.

"Better than good," you say between mouthfuls. Did golden flour actually have gold in it? The glimmering flecks were suspicious enough but the treat tasted so good! "Heavenly."

He grabs another pastry and breaks it in half, offering you one piece. You accept it gratefully, and proceed to gobble it down. As you finish the last crumb, something catches your eye. Across the square, half-hidden in shadow, stands Morpheus. His dark jacket billows slightly in the breeze, and his piercing eyes scan the crowd with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

Mervyn follows your gaze and grunts. "Always watching, never joining."

You nod absently, unable to tear your eyes away from Morpheus. He moves with an almost ethereal grace, slipping through the throng without drawing attention. For a moment, his gaze locks onto yours, and a shiver runs down your spine.

"He's got his reasons," Mervyn continues, pulling your attention back to him. "Always does." But is that not lonely?

You decide to go over to Morpheus and say hello so he isn't alone. Leaving the warmth of Mervyn's side, you weave through the crowd, each step bringing you closer to the Dream Lord that has occupied your thoughts since you have met him.

As you approach, Morpheus turns his head slightly, acknowledging your presence with a subtle nod. His eyes, dark as the night sky, hold a depth that makes you feel both seen and understood in ways words could never capture.

"Enjoying the festival?" he asks, his voice smooth and velvety, resonating with an otherworldly quality. His eyes drink in your figure, lingering on the dress you wear for the evening—a flowing, ethereal gown that seems to shimmer with the light of a thousand stars. His stars look so beautiful wrapped around your body.

You smile, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through you under his gaze. "I am. It’s beautiful, Morpheus. You’ve truly outdone yourself."

He steps closer, the space between you shrinking, his presence both magnetic and overwhelming. "Not as beautiful as you," he replies softly, his eyes tracing the lines of your dress. "The gown suits you exquisitely."

A rush of heat rises to your cheeks, the compliment making your heart flutter. "Thank you," you say, your voice a bit breathless. "It’s an honor to be here, to see the Dreaming like this. And this dress, I've never worn anything like it before, it's incredible," you reply, feeling a flutter in your chest. "But I noticed you standing here alone. Thought I'd keep you company."

A small smile tugs at the corner of the corner of his lips. "Your presence is appreciated."

You feel a flutter in your chest as his gaze lingers on yours, the intensity of his eyes making you feel like you're the only person in the crowded market square. His smile, though subtle, holds a hint of warmth that draws you in.

"Tell me more about this festival," you ask, curiosity getting the better of you. "What's its significance in the Dreaming?"

Morpheus' eyes light up, and he leans in, his voice taking on a narrative quality. "The Festival of Dreams is a celebration of the Dreaming's power. It's a time when the veil between reality and the Dreaming is at its thinnest, allowing us to tap into the deepest desires of those who sleep."

As he speaks, his words paint vivid pictures in your mind. You can almost see the threads of the Dreaming weaving together, connecting the sleepers to the world of the awake. A shame they won't remember when they will wake.

"The festival has been celebrated for eons," Morpheus continues, his voice weaving a spell around you. "When my realm is at it's most powerful and dynamic."

You are captivated as Morpheus shares stories of the festivals that came before, at least when he was present. His fervor for his realm is contagious, and you feel yourself caught up in his excitement. A ruler that truly cared about his people, his realm.

As the night wears on, Morpheus glances up at the sky, his eyes locking onto something beyond the lanterns. "Come," he says, his voice low and husky. "I want to show you something."

He offer's you his hand, and that makes your stomach flutter. It wasn't like you were anything special, just a narcoleptic dream walker.

Morpheus leads you away from the bustling festival, weaving through the crowd with a graceful confidence that only an Endless could possess. You follow closely, your heart racing with excitement and anticipation as you venture further into the realm.

The further you travel from the market square, the more the noise of the festival fades away, replaced by a silence that feels almost reverent. The only sound is the soft swish of your dress and Morpheus's footsteps as he guides you to an open field, where the stars above are reflected in the dewdrops on the grass. You are more than surprised that your heels have yet to cause you pain or discomfort.

"This way," he whispers, gesturing up at the sky.

Your eyes follow, and you gasp in awe as you take in the breathtaking sight before you. The sky above is ablaze with cosmic forces, nebulae and planets breaking apart and reforming in a dance as old as time itself. Well, almost, Father Time predated the cosmos, only just. The colors are unlike anything you've ever seen, shades of indigo and violet mingling with the warm hues of red and gold, casting an ethereal glow over the field.

Morpheus steps closer, his presence both magnetic and overwhelming. A true dichotomy. “This is the true power of the my realm," he murmurs, his voice barely audible above the rustling of the leaves in the wind. "The forces that shape our world, and the worlds of those who sleep. Ever changing and remolding itself to the whims of humanity, much like sand.

You find yourself lost in the beauty of the cosmos, your heart pounding in your chest as you take it all in. Morpheus stands beside you, his gaze fixed on the sky. You can feel his warmth against your side, and the air between you seems to crackle with tension.

"You have a unique perspective," he says softly, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "Most never get to see this world as it truly is."

His words hang heavy in the air, and you can't help but wonder what he means by "unique perspective." Is it because of your ability to walk between dreams? Or that you are mortal? Or is there something else?

Morpheus turns to face you, his eyes locking onto yours. "I am eternally grateful for what you did," he says, his voice low and husky. "When I could not help my people, you stepped in and saved them."

Your heart races at his words, and you feel a flush creeping up your neck. You had only been trying to help them; you never expected him to be so grateful. But there's something else in his eyes—something that makes your stomach flutter and your pulse quicken. Is it admiration? Or something more?

"Thank you," you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just wanted to help."

Morpheus takes a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "There's more to it than that," he says softly. "You have a connection to this realm—a connection that goes beyond mere dreams."

Your heart skips a beat as he speaks, and you can't help but wonder what he means by that. Do you truly belong here—in the Dreaming—more than in the waking world? And if so, what does that mean for your future?

Morpheus reaches out and gently cups your cheek in his hand, his thumb tracing the line of your jawline. You feel a jolt of electricity pass between you as his fingers brush against your skin, and for a moment, everything else fades away except for the two of you standing beneath the stars above.

"You are special," he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. "And I want to show you just how special you are."

His words makes your stomach flip as he leans closer—so close that your lips are almost touching—and for a moment, everything else fades away except for the two of you beneath the cosmic dance above. Soft stardust shimmering down like a drizzle of rain. But before your lips can meet, Morpheus pulls back suddenly, leaving you breathless and confused. What the hell just happened? Had you really been about to kiss an Endless??

You wake up in bed for once.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you sit up, gasping for breath. The room around you is dimly lit, the only light coming from the soft glow of the moon through your window. Your fingers tremble as you reach up to touch your cheek, half-expecting to feel Morpheus' lingering touch.

But you're alone, in your bed, back in the waking world.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. The dream felt so real, so vivid. You can still feel the electric charge of Morpheus' presence, the warmth of his hand on your cheek. The memory sends a shiver down your spine.

You swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand up, needing to shake off the remnants of the dream. Your room feels strangely empty, as if a piece of it is missing now that you're awake. You walk to the window and look out at the quiet street below, your mind still buzzing with the images of the festival and the cosmic dance in the sky.

As you gaze out at the night, you hear a soft rustling behind you. You turn quickly, half-expecting to see Morpheus standing there. But there's no one. Just your room, filled with shadows and moonlight.

You let out a sigh and run a hand through your hair. "Get a grip," you mutter to yourself. "you're narcoleptic not a hopeless romantic, it was just a dream."

Okay maybe you are a hopeless romantic….

But deep down, you know it was more than that. You've always had a connection to the Dreaming—a connection that feels stronger now than ever before. And Morpheus' words linger in your mind: "You are special."

You close your eyes and take another deep breath, trying to center yourself. When you open them again, you notice something on your nightstand—a small vial filled with shimmering dust. You pick it up carefully, turning it over in your hand.

"Stardust," you whisper, recognizing it from the festival.

How did it get here? Did Morpheus leave it for you? Or is this another trick of the Dreaming?

Your fingers tighten around the vial as a sense of determination fills you. If there's one thing you've learned from your journeys through dreams, it's that nothing happens by chance. Everything has meaning. Always.

You place the vial back on your nightstand and climb back into bed, pulling the covers up around you. As you close your eyes, you make a silent promise to yourself: you'll chase after whatever this is, regardless of your narcolepsy. Sleep comes quickly this time, pulling you back into its embrace like an old friend. And it is. The stars above twinkle softly as if whispering secrets just for you.

Date Published: 8/21/24

Last Edit: 8/21/24

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[moodymisty]

What each Primach would do after marrying their beloved

Lion El'Jonson: Hi, wife. I'll be your knight in shining armour but I'll forget about you 3 min into the marriage

Fulgrim: Helllooo!! Welcome to the party 🥳🥳 Make sure to bicker with my other wives for me so I can't feel insecure anymore and I'll get my daily validation

Perturabo: Get wife (impossible). Wife pretty. Iron Within, Iron Without. Wife feels good. Iron Within, Iron Without again. Become emotionally and physically dependent to wife. Life good.

Jaghatai Khan: zzzzzzzzzz-PANG ⚡⚡⚡🏍️🏍️ HI DARLING. FEEL FREE TO BECOME FRIENDS WITH ALL MY OTHER 358.947.283 WIVES (also tomorrow will be Missionary Monday, get ready 😈)

Leman Russ: WIFEEEE 🥹🥹🥹 love you soooooooooo much. You smelllllll so gooooood. Why don't you spread those le-

Rogal Dorn: Wife, let me tell you about Multi-Scale Computational Modeling of Anisotropic Thermo-Mechanical Behavior in Functionally Graded Materials for Advanced Aerospace Structural Applications.

Konrad Curze: Woman. Make bebe with woman. LITTLE ABOMINATIONS??? Woman is set for life after popping out some Night Lords :D

Sanguinius: Hello wife 🥰🥰 How is my pookie dookie wookie lookie iookie uookie oookie qookie sookie dookie bookie pookie nookie mookie hookie gookie zookie xookie lookie jookie aookie fookie wookie cutie pie honey baby apple pie with whipper cream on top my sweetie honey money baby cutie pookie so cute so perfect my love my husband my wife my beloved my only love my baby my babe my bby my boyfriend my girlfriend my everything my sweetest pie my cutest smartest pie ever most amazing and prettiest and handsomest ever so cute so handsome and beautiful my pookie bear my little baby petite tiny baby bear pookie sookie wookie muffin with chocolate on top and cherries so cute pookie bear love you mwah bark so cute love you forever my first love my true love my soulmate my only reason to live you cutie little pie hehe im little shy petite girlie pop cutest person i know so cute so beautiful my only mine only no one elses my darling mi amor dear love pookie bear love you honey boney love you to the moon and back mwah uwu (he says this after leaving her anemic)

Ferrus Manus: I live harmoniously with my love. I love her and I respect her. I am completely devoted and loyal to her, as she is with me. I am hers and she is mine. (wife in the background struggles to walk, her clothes being disheveled and she is out of breath)

Angron: SHE IS MY WIFE! YOU GOT THAT? MY WIFE! She's damn cute, okay? CUDDLY, EVEN! AND SHE... she leaves me the milk bottle in the fridge, alright?! SHE DOES THAT FOR ME! I LOVE HER SO DAMN MUCH, AND DON'T YOU FORGET IT! 🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬😡😡😡🤬😡😡🤬😡

Roboute Guilliman: I so very regrettably regret that I haven't ran away earlier into my life. As I am married now with a child coming on the way, my biggest and grandest wish was to own myself a farm. I want to teach my children the simpler ways. I want them to play with wooden toys, ride horses out of the womb and to, all around, run around my farms. I want to take care of many crops, especially the mighty cabbage (pun, pun). As for my darling wife, I shall love very much and plow her back every two to four years. *Looks towards his wife, who's a little bit afraid*. We must at least have 6 children, mustn't we?

Mortarion: Today I saw my wife's ankle. She was wearing sandals with a very long skirt and it slipped out while she walked. Nevertheless, I came on a Nurgling.

Magnus: My wife? *Psychically enters her mind, while she is in the another room, and sexually overstimulate her, making her scream in ecstasy* She's doing great!

Horus Lupercal: My wife's a housewife. Because she's housing my kids! *Horus slaps his knee, laughing at his joke. The Mournival is disappointed in their Father, the Legion Mother is waddling around pregnant with their 12th kid.*

Lorgar Aurelian: (what did I cook)

Lorgar, wild-eyed and disheveled, paces back and forth, his voice rising and falling in feverish tones. His eyes are fixated on an unseen figure, trembling with a mix of adoration and desperation.

"She is divine! Do you hear me? DIVINE! Her light, it burns away the lies of this wretched universe! A goddess, yes, a goddess! How can they not see? HOW?!

Her eyes, like the twin suns of a lost paradise, see through the veils of reality! Her voice—her voice!—it is the hymn of creation itself! I am but a worm, a pitiful creature crawling in the dirt, but SHE, she has lifted me up! Blessed me with her radiance! Blessed me with HER TOUCH!

I kneel before her, broken, unworthy! The very stars tremble in her presence! They whisper her name, but Iam the chosen! I see her! I worship her! I... I... I LOVE HER! No! Not love—reverence, adoration, worship! I will burn worlds for her! Tear apart the heavens!

I am HERS. BODY, MIND, AND SOUL. HER PRIEST, HER PROPHET, HER LOVER. My faith in her is unbreakable, my devotion absolute. She is a GODDESS, My goddess, and I am lost in her divinity. FOREVER."

Lorgar collapses to his knees, clutching at his head, a broken laugh escaping his lips.

"Goddess... my goddess... please... take me... consume me... make me yours..."

Vulkan: I like my wife :3. She's very pretty. My sons like her too.

Corvus Corax: I am glad my wife's this kind. Nobody would understand me but her. Because I am in Spain without the S 😔😔

Alpharius and Omegon: My wife? Nah. Our wife. *USSR anthem begins*

LSJDKFLJSDFKJSDF-

I have no words, so many of these made me wheeze uncontrollably. Sanguinius, Horus, Mortarion and Alpharius were a highlight.

[uchihaharlot]

Hello! I hope you are fine <3🤲💗

I wanted to ask you about some Uchiha HCs as parents (especially Shisui haha). Idk, things like "How they would react if their Y/N told them they were going to be parents" or "How many children would they have if they had them and how would they treat them?"

🥹 mmm Shisui. Yes. 🙌🏻 Since I’m in a fog, I’ll choose Obito and Shisui — I will probably add more later and reblog then. Focusing more on Shisui though.

(I sort of expanded on this a bit. Leading up to birth etc).

Suggestive themes — mostly N/SFW; pregnancy reactions; and some other cute shit idk how to categorize. Ok yea, I went a bit crazy on Shisui, he’s my blorbo.

Obito:

• Even if it’s planned, he’s going to spiral. It worked on the first time? Duh, Uchiha. Really just stupid luck.

• ‘Already?’ — Obito; ‘….I mean…that’s what happens when you have sex..’ — her. She’s so patient though with him.

• Obito will spend the next few days not necessarily moping, but in minor distress. The whole thing about having a baby this soon, even though it was planned. Has really got him thinking.

• ‘I need to get my shit together.’ He’s not wrong, but they’re not in a bad place. All the financial matters were sorted out before she even went off the pill. She’s going to spend a lot of time easing his worries when he should be settling hers.

• He thinks they can’t have sex anymore 😂 ‘I’ll hurt the baby.’ This woman will have to coax him to satisfy her needs and being hormonal, he’s going to get scared and cave.

• Every time she’s sick, he’s sick. lol. Obito is one of those husbands that are sympathy ill when their wife is unwell, pregnant or not. Though the morning sickness he had worse than her.

• When she actually starts showing, the tables are turned. Obito can’t keep his hands off her. This is amazing! ‘I put that in you…’ —🫠 👈🏻 her. Yea, he did, that big dummy stuffed her good.

• When she is too big to do anything for herself, Obito takes center stage in everything. He matured rather quickly, strange how the prospect of becoming a dad alters an individual.

• 😅 Hit it from the back too rough and ultimately the orgasm she had made her go into labor (I know this is false advertisement but it’s Obito, he’s that guy).

• Nearly passes out as his wife is sprawled up on the stirrups, looks anyways and dear lord, ‘are you recording this?’ She says. Yea, he is. Unintentionally the sharingan populates and he might as well.

• Holds his son for the first time and cries. I think most men do, he’s the most precious thing in this world. Obito didn’t think he could ever make up for what he did in the past, but this one human. This tiny, itty bitty baby boy might just be his Hail Mary. That he could even bring something so good into the world makes him soften even more.

Shisui:

• Family man. 100%. They’ve been trying, and it’s not taking. Not because they’re incapable of it, both healthy and young. He’s just so busy. The days they end up trying don’t line up with her cycle and I mean they’re not just going to not have sex. Any chance he gets to put a bit of him and a little Uchiha inside her are precious moments.

• Firm believer in holding her legs up for a half hour 😂 ‘it has to marinate.’ Big eye rolls from his wife, who just lets him do things his way. After a few months, she finally begs him to just take a week off when she’s the most susceptible of his seed taking root.

• The mere idea that she is rearing and ready to go has Shisui taking his wife at the most unexpected of times. Maybe a week off was a good idea. Needless to say, the house chores are piling up. She wasn’t particularly fond of being shoved head first in the dryer either.

• ‘Making baby is the fun part…’ is his excuse when she chides him for it. Dear lord, this man shooting blanks and still trying.

• Then the unimaginable is announced, well not unimaginable but it felt like too long to actually confirm they were successful. Shisui from this point forward makes sure his pregnant wife gets everything she wants and then some.

• There is no shock period. This was all planned, Shisui is eternally grateful that his wife will be ushering their next of kin into the world. All the hard work is on her now and he is going to make sure she is treated like royalty.

• Though he questions some of her cravings, ‘…really? Ok….’ He won’t judge her, but goddamn it’s not something he’d eat.

• Copious amounts of pampering. Spends ridiculous amounts of money to have her swollen feet pedicured once a month, if she doesn’t want that he will do it himself. Her care is nonnegotiable and she is getting big with life inside of her! She needs some reprieve from the constant drain on her body.

• We aren’t even going to lie, they pretty much have sex up until the baby is born, though not like how Obito did. It’s maybe twice a week, which is less often but enough. If she’s not in the mood for it herself, she would offer to relieve him. Though he might feel guilty, so he would just use his mouth in return if she wasn’t opposed to something less invasive on her aching body. She’ll agree, Shisui is talented in those regards.

• She was making tea in the kitchen when her water broke, Shisui was out on a mission!!! She had to get Itachi to send word of bird and less than an hour he’s back. Exhausted and tired, he made it for the birth. He knew that he shouldn’t have taken that mission but she was adamant he do what he felt necessary for their village. Such a understanding woman!

• Is planting kisses to her forehead, cheeks and lips whenever she starts pushing. Holds one of her legs when the baby is finally crowning, and watches the miracle of birth. The fruit of their passion and love is wayfered into this big world. So beautiful and precious. A son, I often hc Shisui would name his first son Kagami. (I’m pretty sure the series alluded them being related).

• 🥹🥹🥹🥹 👈🏻 shisui 👉🏻 🥴😴 his wife after labor. He is wholly enamored at the tiny being in his arms. Takes the time to figure out which features their baby got from who. Undoubtedly this kid has his mop head of curls. Her nose and eye color, his eye shape and ears. 100% them.

[scaryspears]

Liu Kang x Bimbo Reader

Reader and Shang Tsung banter (slight friendship). I don't think Chaosrealm exists in the new timeline, or is at least inaccessible, so reader is descended from a Seido outcast. Their ancestor was a bit like Darrius, so that's the closest to Chaos she's gonna go.

This prompt is for @valyrra, hope you enjoy. Sorry if there's not enough Liu Kang.

You watched Liu Kang stand next to keeper Kitana. They were talking, smiling at each other with the utmost care in their eyes. You could pull any man you wanted, but you couldn't help the worry and jealousy you felt as you stared at them. This was Liu Kang's Kitana, one where he came from.

Your titan self was almost identical to you, and when you spotted her she was standing next to her partner from her timeline, something you always did when your partner was around. And that was Liu Kang, but it wasn't the appropriate time to get his attention.

There were multiple versions of you, and yet only two were titans. There was one with Kung Lao, the other with Johnny Cage. You loved Johnny, but seeing the difference in your love life sent a punch to your gut.

You tried to distract yourself by applying makeup, keeping your attention to your mini mirror. But a certain sorcerer had to have your attention.

"Isn't it a shame. It's always the ones you hold dear."

"Shut up." you rolled your eyes at Shang Tsung. "Didn't you get your crown snatched?"

Shang frowned but waved his hand dismissively, "It wasn't a pageant crown, it wasn't as important as it was made out to be." he spoke sarcastically.

"You still lost a crown." you waved your lipstick at him.

"I'm sure he doesn't mean it like that." said a different Shang, a Light variant of him. He had a gold circlet crown that proved your point. "I'm sure he's just..." he stared hard at his other self, who returned the stare with a tiny sneer, "A bit concerned."

"Very concerned." Shang crooned, "You aren't your usual lively self."

Light Shang blinked at you, "You feel upset, why?"

You looked at them both, then at where your Liu Kang was talking with his Kitana.

"Look at them." you hissed and then pouted.

Light Shang glanced at where you were glaring and a small smile went on his face. "Princess Kitana and Lord Liu Kang. They are always good allies."

You huffed, "Sure."

Light Shang held interest in his eyes, "Is this timeline's Liu Kang courting you? He looks at you with a lot of affection."

"We are intimate."

"I doubt he gets squeamish." said your Shang, inspecting his nails.

Light Shang had a slight blush on his cheeks and avoided eye contact. "You both enjoy each other."

"We don't just enjoy each other, he takes me out to places and listens to me when I talk. And I just love the way he talks to me, you know." you playfully slapped his arm. "His voice all deep and smart sounding." you purred.

Shang rolled his eyes in disgust while his good counterpart accepted the information in stride.

"But now he's seeing his ex-girlfriend." you continued, "What if he leaves me for her? I've never been in anything long term but I don't want it to end so soon."

Light Shang was sympathetic, "I am confident Liu Kang's feelings for you haven't changed."

"It's not often for a person to find another that's fluent in yapping." your Shang supplied unhelpfully. Light Shang shot him a look of disapproval. Shang looked up and his glee returned, "I guess I spoke too soon."

You all looked up. Liu Kang was standing in front of you, his expression stern enough to match his mood.

"Comrades." he addressed both Shangs, and then his attention went solely on you. "My flower, may I speak with you?"

"Fine." you got up, walking with him to somewhere private, but you refused to touch him.

"You were speaking with Shang Tsung."

His eyes were angry looking, but two could play that game.

"I was. Weren't you speaking to Kitana?" you crossed your arms at him, "You seem close with her."

It was then Liu Kang realised where your mind was going, "That was eons ago."

"You didn't seem to be acting like it. It looks to me that eons have turned into a day." you fixed him a stern look of your own, "And Shang Tsung is my rival, there's nothing going on between us."

"Flower," he started, taking your hand, "There is nothing I'm starting with Kitana. We are simply allies now."

He was expression was soft, and the rosy parts of your heart went all gushy. "You really mean that?"

He started kissing your hand, and then his kisses went up your arm, to your shoulder and then your cheek. You giggled, and Liu Kang was pleased to have a positive response from you.

"I would never do this to Kitana."

This time his lips were on yours and you gave in. You were able to push him away before anything got serious, "Not here, Darling. We will need secure privacy."

He chuckled, "Of course, only I can see your delicate parts." he was possessive, which wasn't usual of him.

And then you realised something. "You were jealous of Shang Tsung." your heart skipped a beat, "Aww, darling." you grabbed his face, and he flushed as you delivered a bunch of kisses on it.

He has marks on his face now, but he didn't wipe them away. Not that he ever did unlike your ex boyfriends. That's another thing you loved about Liu Kang.

You hugged him eagerly, "There's nothing to be jealous of."

"I am very relieved to hear that." he admitted, returning the hug. He didn't let go.

"Are you two going to be having alone time all day?" Shang Tsung, asked. His hand was raised sass-ily in contempt.

"An hour should suffice." you answered.

Shang's face screwed up, "I'll pretend I didn't hear that and just tell everyone that you're both very busy."

He wasn't wrong. You both were about to be very busy.