#You had ancestors who loved you who you never knew. But they did what they did because they loved you

[rotzaprachim]

The thing about writing a post apocalyptic sw au (station eleven and TLOU) is that it helps anúnciate the reality that the sequel trilogy is a post apocalyptic narrative. Like, the sequel trilogy is really, really bad, and one of the places it’s so bad it becomes fascinating is in the gap between the Light Action Adventure corporatized media Pew Pew Pew series it Thinks it is with all its product tie ins and Lego sets and the knock em out balls to the walls Hopeless post apocalyptic narrative it actually is. Never is it convinced that anything in the galaxy improved or rebuilt after the return of the Jedi. Because it is not a Series Smart enough to come up with it’s own plot lines it simply regurgitates the original trilogy plot lines without the intelligence to make a nuanced commentary about intergenerational trauma or way survivors of fascism must continue to fight new forms. The sequel trilogy is a hamster wheel. The war never ended. Everything is the same. The Death Star is the same. The rebellion is now the resistance, a far more splintered, shatter shell that can fit into and out the back of a single hangars. The weapon that killed a planet now destroys a planetary system. And what gets me is the individual stories. These are the children of an apocalypse. Finn was taken from his family as a child to become the next round of stormtrooper canon fodder. Rey scrabbled for survival by physically tearing sustenance from the carcasses of a war. Poe was born during the last war and lives to see his adult live suited up into the same conflict his parents fought. Rose is a refugee of a planet destroyed like alderaan and kenari. Every one of them is born on this hamster wheel without a way off. It’s why I have a hard time reconciling rogue one and andor as existing in the same universe as the sequel trilogy, because I think RO and Andor are both so much more cuttingly brutal and so much more hopeful that what the ST provides. Finn and Rey and Rose and Poe are way some substantiation of Andor’s worst nightmares. They’re literally each living the lives Cassian and so many others died to prevent from happening.

[say-al0e]

Hold Tight

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18. Minors, DNI!

Summary: Aemond has long sought comfort in the arms of the madame at his lowest. Now, he has what he's so long craved; a loving wife who is happy to indulge him. Warnings: Pregnant!Reader, lactation kink, PinV, mention of Luke's death and the war, mentions of the madame, Aemond's a little soft. If you notice anything else, let me know and I'll tag it! Pairing: Aemond x pregnant, wife!Reader Word Count: 7.6k HotD Taglist | HotD Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen knew the secrets of the Red Keep better than most.

As a child, he spent his days studying history and philosophy, learning the language of his ancestors or practicing with his blade, preparing himself for the future he knew awaited him. He kept to himself, tired easily of his brother’s torment and Helaena’s bugs - her riddles - and spent much of his idle time wandering the Keep.

Aegon was bold, slipping out of the gates with a command for the guard on watch to allow him and little regard for who knew. He used his power as the King’s eldest son, as the heir to the throne in the eyes of most, and came and went as he pleased. Helaena never left the Keep without supervision - never wanted to leave at all, really. And Aemond, as always, fell somewhere in between.

Many nights, when he found himself searching for sleep that refused to come, Aemond roamed the labyrinthine passages Maegor the Cruel left behind. He learned most of them, slipping in and out of the Keep as he pleased, and found the ones that he could someday use to his advantage.

Most apartments in the Keep contained an alternate entrance - or exit, if need be - that few knew existed. The royal apartments, he found, were most likely to contain them; Aegon’s, Helaena’s, his mother’s, his, yours.

Though, their existence was a secret he had yet to reveal to anyone, including you.

For as long as he could remember, Aemond made use of the passages. It was not often that he visited the city - he’d never been fond of it, never cared for the revelry in the same way Aegon did - nor did he spend much time by the water. The Keep was his home and where he felt safest. But he slipped from his room to the field where Vhagar resided from time to time, or to the Kingswood, just for a moment of peace.

However, after his thirteenth name day - and Aegon’s insistent ‘instruction’ - Aemond found himself returning to the city more than he ever had.

The unmarked door, one he’d grown to need and hate in equal measure, was his destination. It called to him, a siren song in the dead of night, on his darkest days and it seemed as if each day had grown darker than the last. The incident with Lucerys, the bitter sting of his mother’s wrath, the whispers beginning to fill the ears of all who might hear; every bit his fault, and every bit beckoning him closer to that door.

Aemond lingered there for a few long moments, moments he dared not count, as a war raged in his mind. Seconds could have passed, even hours, as he hid in the depths of the shadows. Many and more moons had passed since he last stepped foot into the city, since he last visited this place, but the song drew him closer.

There was comfort to be found inside, one he once craved so desperately, but he now knew better.

Love, affection, eluded him for so long that he saw this place - the woman inside, the gold he paid her - as his only option, the only chance to feel what others took for granted. A gentle hand, a soft word, a kind smile; he wanted little else and knew she would give it to him. 

Inside those walls, the world ceased to exist. There would be no mention of his nephew, his brother, his wife. The woman inside would not ask, would not mention the whispers he knew she’d already heard, and would only listen to whatever he decided to share. There would be no strategy, no attempt to comfort him with words he knew she didn’t mean. Instead, she would hear him confess his gravest sins before attempting to comfort him with the warmth of her mouth around his cock, the pads of her fingers tracing the tense muscle of his shoulder when he curled into her after.

Spending the night there, in her arms - no matter how tempting - would only add to the oppressive weight already crushing his chest. It was a truth he’d come to learn now that he knew real love, true affection, a reality he’d faced.

Despite himself, the tricks his mind played, the comfort he found there had never been real. With his body curled into hers, her fingers carding through his hair and his breath shuddering as he finally allowed himself to feel, he willed it to be a true comfort. He once considered this place, her, the pinnacle of vulnerability, of safety, of comfort.

Now, he knew there was none to be found there.

There was nothing she could say, nothing she could give him, that would provide any comfort at all. The siren song had ended, faded into the din of the city surrounding him, and Aemond could hear a new call. This song was sweeter, gentler, had blown in on a strong wind and erased all other noise the moment he fell in love with you.

Though the marriage was one of convenience at first, an arrangement made by your father and Aemond’s grandsire - his hand for the full strength of your house, when the time came - it had grown into something more.

For much of his life, Aemond refused to entertain the idea that any marriage he found himself in would be one filled with love. Marriage was bound to duty, something done for the good of your house - the good of the realm, in his case - and love meant little. Most lords disliked their wives, took other women to bed at any given chance, and the wives often rejoiced as they were no longer forced to share a bed.

The most he’d ever hoped for was a wife he could tolerate.

Aemond shared little of his mother’s faith, even less of her devotion to prayer and piety, but he often found himself thanking the gods for bringing you to him.

Hidden in the Red Keep, very likely in his own bed as you’d taken to spending more nights with him than alone, he imagined you asleep beneath the soft linen. Very clearly, he could see the white of your nightgown - a beautiful, soft material he found himself clutching between calloused fingers as oft as you would allow, drifting to sleep with the feeling of it soothing his warm skin - as your head rested on his pillow in a desperate bid to surround yourself with his scent.

That image - the picture of you he now saw so clearly, stamped in place of the door he’d been staring at without really seeing - was enough to break the invisible bond that kept him cemented in place. 

Without sparing the door another glance, Aemond turned and began his retreat to the Keep.

Each step through the city was quicker than the last, eager to return to the quiet of home - the solace that awaited him in his chambers. Aemond knew the route by heart now, could find his way back with his remaining eye closed, and breathed a sigh of relief as he wound through the hidden passages that lead back to his comfort.

The moment the door settled in place, clicked shut with a soft gust of cool air, Aemond crossed the expanse of the room carefully. His footsteps were light, a barely there sound in the quiet of the room, and he was glad for his caution as he perched on the arm of a chair. His gaze fell to the bed he’d grown so used to sleeping alone in and he felt the ghost of a smile tug at the corners of his mouth at the sight of another body making itself at home, directly in the middle of the mattress.

Just as he’d expected, you rested there comfortably. The white of your nightgown stood in stark contrast to the deep green of his sheets, a bright spot in the otherwise dim tapestry of his room - his life. 

Aemond sat there for a few long moments, time beginning to slow as he drank in the sight of you. The Keep was quiet, save for the odd shuffle of guards or servants, and he could hear the soft sound of your breathing as you shifted. 

Though you rested near the center of his bed, your head on his pillow and your hand outstretched - reaching for him, despite his absence - your brows furrowed with a discomfort he’d never seen. Beneath the soft bedding, he could see the curve of your body, resting on your side, and the shift of your hand as it lifted to cradle your stomach. The motion set him on edge, drew a sharp breath from him, and earned a fluttering of your lashes as some semblance of wakefulness returned to you.

“Aemond?” you questioned, voice still so soft despite the sleep clinging to you. 

“Mm.” He hummed, voice equally soft in the dim light of the room - the lone candle you’d left burning, a beacon for him to find his way in the dark. There was little doubt where your thoughts had begun to drift, the questions you wanted to ask; where he’d gone, how he felt, what came next? But he could not yet describe his feelings in words.

Before you could so much as part your lips, he sighed. “I went to see about Vhagar.” The lie slipped from his lips easily, believable enough, and his eye fluttered shut in a sort of relief - or, perhaps, shame, guilt - when you made a sympathetic noise. “I did not mean to wake you.”

As he stood, fingers beginning to work at the buttons of his doublet, you hummed. “’Twas not you,” you informed him, a sigh of your own escaping as you sat up against the headboard. “Your babe is restless and will not allow me to find comfort.” Aemond watched for a moment, keen eye following every move you made, as your hand returned to your growing belly. 

The babe you carried was now very visible, obvious to all who spared you a glance, and the sight was one that enraptured him and terrified him in equal measure. Aemond was a proud man, one who was eager to carry on the Targaryen line, but his family was not one of love. There was no comfort, no happiness, to be found in the Keep - none to be found in the arms of his mother, certainly not his father - and he often feared the same fate awaited his own children. But the soft smile that curved the plush of your lips each time you rested your hand on the swell of your belly and the delighted laughter you breathed each time one of Helaena’s babes brought you into their playtime served as another light, shining in the dark; a spot of hope that, perhaps, his children may know a love he never had.

Aemond’s eye finally lifted to yours, met your concerned glance with an even one of his own after a beat of silence that stretched on almost too long, before he shook his head. “My babe? I seem to recall that we both had a hand in his creation,” he reminded you, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he removed his breeches and stood in nothing but his small clothes.

“Mm, perhaps,” you hummed, though the glimmer in your eyes told him you remembered very well. “But her nocturnal nature is solely your own. At this hour, she is yours and yours alone,” you teased, smiling softly as he padded across the stone floor to make his way to bed.

“Still insistent our first babe will be a girl?”

“A mother knows,” you hummed, watching as he slipped into bed beside you. His violet eye raked over your form, still so easily visible in the dim light of the room, and you bit back a sigh as you reached for him. “Come here.”

With little coaxing, Aemond shifted closer to you. The shift of his body was easy, almost as natural as breathing now, and you hummed in encouragement as you pushed away the bedding to allow his head to settle on your plush thighs. His favored position was resting with his head on your chest, face tipped to the crook of your neck, but the swell of your belly and the sensitivity in your breasts left you both with little choice but to find an alternative.

The beat of his heart began to slow when your hand fell from your belly to his hair, fingers softly carding through the silver strands - now free of the tie he kept in it and the lace of his eyepatch. “What happened, my love?”

Silence settled thick over the room and he knew that you weren’t asking where he’d gone. Though you worried, his disappearance was of little concern to you in that moment. The truth would out eventually, he would admit his shame sooner rather than late - as he so often seemed to with you - but this question afforded him a bit more time.

This question was the one he dreaded, the one that truly meant; what happened that night with Lucerys?

“I sincerely regret that business with Luke,” he admitted, voice a whisper in the still of the room. “I… I was angry, but I only meant to scare him. I did not mean to end his life. But Vhagar, my temper; I lost control.” The confession, whispered to you in the only place he’d ever known true safety, felt like a weight off his chest. It left behind a crater, a chasm that he knew would be difficult to fill, but sharing the secret with you made it easier for him to draw his breath. It escaped as a soft sigh, a puff of air blown across your thighs - now exposed, fabric of your nightgown pushed out of the way to allow his own hand to fall to the plush of your thigh. “Aegon is shortsighted. He wishes to throw feasts, to celebrate bloodshed. Mother is angry because she knows what must come next. Peace is no longer an option.”

Aemond’s confession lingered in the air for a long moment. It reverberated in his ears, rang like the bells that tolled on the day of his father’s death, but you calmed the noise with a quiet sigh.

“I don’t believe peace was ever an option,” you confessed, carefully brushing silver strands away from his sapphire eye. “This war started long ago, before you or Aegon or Rhaenyra were even a thought. It will be convenient, for some, to blame you and Vhagar, but this began before you took the sky together. And someday, there will be none who remember what started it or why it was fought. History will only remember the bloodshed that we must now bear the brunt of.”

No response came to him, lost in the thoughts that swept through his mind like a raging storm, but he knew you didn’t expect one. The words were meant to be a balm, soothing the soul he bared only for you, and he took them as such as he allowed his eye to fall closed.

There was something to be said of routine, then, as you followed the familiar dance that started months ago. 

Silence lingered for a beat, long enough for his breathing to even and your own to grow deeper - always so shallow now, he noticed, almost labored as your stomach grew ever rounder - before you spoke again.

“I spent the day with the twins,” you informed him, fingers still softly working through the strands of his hair. “Helaena wanted to take Dreamfyre out so I sat with them and we watched her fly. I think Jaehaerys will love being a dragonrider, like Helaena, but it seems Jaehaera has no interest.”

“And Maelor?” 

Aemond’s question was reflexive, asked without thought, but you took a moment to consider it. “Too young to tell,” you decided, allowing your hand to drift to his cheek and brush the sharp line of his jaw. “He has no reaction to the stink of dragon, unlike his sister, but he may, later on. Aegon wishes to take him flying on Sunfyre but Helaena has forbidden it.” Another moment of quiet, then, before you hummed once more. “Has an egg been chosen for our babe’s cradle? Or do you wish our daughter to be like her father and claim a fearsome old beast?”

The reminder of the babe you swelled with drew a shuddering breath from him as Aemond struggled to keep the grasp he held on your thigh light. “Our son will have an egg,” he promised, “but they do not always hatch. He might try for one of the unclaimed dragons on Dragonstone. Vermithor is nearly as fearsome as Vhagar, nearly as old.”

‘If we can pry Dragonstone from Rhaenyra’s hands,’ went unsaid, though you both allowed the thought to cross your minds.

That thought did not linger, however, as you allowed your hand to drift from his cheek to his shoulder. Soft fingers caressed his skin, warm and strong, and Aemond relaxed into your touch. “How can I help you, my love? I mislike seeing you this way.”

More often than not these days, Aemond found himself here. Many and more nights had been spent curled into the curve of your body, his head resting against your skin as you stroked his hair and spoke softly to him, but they seemed to grow more frequent. Aemond knew that you were observant, that you’d realized he seemed to need your embrace more and more with each passing day, but even he could not articulate why.

Perhaps the weight of his inheritance had finally caught up to him. Or, perhaps it was the knowledge of all he’d done in preparation for his brother’s reign. He even considered it was the possibility that he found himself desiring his brother’s crown, the one Aegon had no desire for.

In truth, he knew that it was you.

The moment you joined hands, the moment you became his wife, Aemond began to feel the walls he’d spent so long building crumble around him. You chipped away at the slowly, almost imperceptibly, but they toppled all the same.

With every moment spent together, with every word of affection you shared or every soft brush of your fingertips across his skin, Aemond felt his world shifting.

Everything he’d ever considered important remained, still mired in the golden glory of his inheritance, only you now loomed over it all. All with the babe you now carried, his babe, alongside you.

“You are with child,” he whispered, shifting to lie on his back and glance up at you.

“I hadn’t noticed,” you returned, drily. When he fixed you with a look, violet eye unamused, you sighed. “I am with child,” you agreed, free hand falling to your belly as you stroked his hair once more. “Our child. That is what we wanted, is it not?”

“It is.” That was always the plan; get married, have children, carry on the Targaryen legacy. Only, the plan had never included losing his eye and spilling the first blood that began a war - killing a child, a nephew.

Aemond could not bring himself to say those words aloud, however, as your fingers carefully carded through his hair, he knew that you understood. There was a fear you both shared, one that had grown heavier since the incident with Lucerys, but he dared not speak it and neither did you. Losing a babe was something that frightened you both - him, nearly as much as losing you in the process - but he willed himself to push that concern to the back of his mind.

Instead, he searched desperately for a thought more pleasant.

Initially, when your betrothal was announced and preparations began for the wedding, he heard murmurs of those who pitied you. It was a shame, they all said, that such a pretty maiden - known for her kindness, her beauty, her wit - would be married to someone like him. He was, after all, noted for his sullen silence and impassive expression.

Everyone wondered how you might fare, locked away in the Keep as your husband-to-be rarely ventured outside its walls, just as Aemond wondered how he might tolerate a highborn lady who doubtlessly believed the whispers.

Those whispers had proven false - just as you’d proven that you never believed any of them.

Love, a curious thing he never hoped to find, bloomed between the two of you. It was not instant, as he learned you had hoped, but slow and cautious. Trust took time, vulnerability even more, but they came, eventually. And with them came a relationship that seemed to stun the whole of the realm into silence.

The pair of you were evenly matched: both highborn, well-educated and eager to continue learning; both fond of the quiet, though you had a natural charm and ability to pretend to enjoy banal chatter that he did not possess; both desperate for a love, a comfort, that you never found at home. There were many similarities, and more differences, but the love that bloomed brought you both a happiness you never knew possible.

And now, as you grew round with the evidence of your love, he discovered another feeling he never thought possible.

Aemond always found you beautiful - he agreed with the whispers of court, that you were much too beautiful to be chained to him for the rest of your life - and he spent the first few weeks of your courtship attempting to ignore his baser urges. There would be time enough for him to indulge in you, for him to see you as no other had ever seen you, but a desperate need for you began to take root then and had yet to release him from its iron grasp.

With every day that passed, Aemond wanted you even more.

Aegon often spoke of the joys of sex, the great pleasure he found in the Streets of Silk, and Aemond never quite believed him. The little experience he had - courtesy of his brother’s goading and gold coin - proved Aegon a liar. However, when Aemond found himself settled between your thighs, he finally believed his brother.

Now, there was little that settled him - anchored him to the moment and cleared his mind of all the noise - quite like losing himself in the throes of pleasure with you.

Since you began to swell with his child, your belly growing round and your tits beginning to spill from your gowns, Aemond found himself even more drawn to you - a feat he hadn’t believed possible. There was something so alluring about the sight of you, wandering the Keep dressed in the color of his house and bearing the most obvious sign that you were his, that it had begun growing maddening.

Luckily, you seemed to be just as desperate for him as he was for you.

The maesters assured you both that there was no harm to be done in satiating your urges and, though he was hesitant in the beginning, soon trusted they spoke nothing but the truth. Now, as he found himself eager for comfort - soft words, loving touches - he allowed himself to seek it in your embrace.

“Are you tired, ābrazyrys?” His question was soft, spoken into the silence that settled easily around you, and met with your hum.

“No.” It was a lie, he knew - could tell by the way your lashes fluttered and your fingers slowly brushed at his skin, the way your lips parted with badly concealed yawns - but you would not be swayed from allowing him whatever he wanted. “I’m here, my love,” you assured him, thumb caressing his cheek. “Take what you need.”

Aemond knew that your body was beginning to grow weary - he’d heard your whispered complaints to Helaena; how your back ached constantly, how your body felt heavier with every step, how even your softest gowns felt too rough on your sensitive skin - and nearly refused you as he had no desire to cause you pain. But the warmth of arousal had already entered his blood, burned beneath his skin, and the shift of your thighs beneath his head indicated that you felt it, too.

Rather than backing away, Aemond moved to sit up and crowded closer to you.

“Gevie,” he whispered, violet eye raking over your face as he lifted his hand to cup your cheek. “Issa gevie ābrazyrys.” Aemond pressed his mouth to yours, then, and you swore you felt his lips curve into a soft smile as you leaned into him.

Aemond had softened some, over the course of your marriage. Though he remained himself, steadfast and strong in who he had become, the edges grew a little more polished. His touch was gentler, his words softer, his kiss less rushed, and you appreciated the effort he’d taken as he tipped his head to deepen the kiss. His hand descended, brushed the soft material of your nightgown as his tongue traced the seam of your lips, and you released a contented sigh.

The large expanse of his hand fell to your ribcage, just beneath the swell of your breast, and though you knew it was coming, you still gasped as his thumb brushed a sensitive nipple.

“I’m alright,” you assured him, the moment he broke the kiss - before he could ask. Your hand lifted to his cheek, thumb brushing his warm skin as you offered him a smile. “Sensitive, is all. The maesters told me it’s normal,” you explained, watching as his gaze fell to your breasts. “They… they also said stimulation may help,” you continued, fingers returning to his hair as his violet eye returned to meet yours.

“Stimulation?”

Aemond knew he hadn’t been subtle in the attention he paid your swelling breasts, in the way his gaze fell to them every time he found you bare between his sheets, but his skin burned with an embarrassed warmth and an overwhelming lust as he realized what you were offering.

“Mm,” you hummed, not bothering to hide your actions as you lifted the skirt of your nightgown higher up your thighs. “I tried, with my fingers, the way they instructed to no avail. Perhaps you have another idea, my love?”

For a brief moment, Aemond felt his head begin to swim. His thoughts muddled, each one making less sense than the last, but they all seemed to lead in the same direction. It was a desire he’d never dared speak aloud, one he barely allowed himself to consider, but the rounder you grew with his seed - the heavier your breasts grew - the harder it became for him to forget. 

Most nights, Aemond spent his time wrapped in your embrace. He enjoyed exploring your skin, mapping the soft expanse of your body with his hands and mouth, and had committed it all to memory. His words sometimes failed him, never quite capturing just how much you meant to him - just how deeply he loved you - but his touch never did. With a flick of his tongue or a brush of his fingers, with a snap of his hips or a soft press of his hand, he continued to find new ways to express himself. And when he’d gotten his fill of you, of hearing you cry his name and watching your body writhe with an exquisite pleasure only he could provide, he filled you with his seed before sometimes settling at your breast.

While he once feared you might find the act strange, that it might repulse you, you were eager to take him as he was. Any act that offered him comfort was one you allowed and the few times he curled into you, flushed body pressed to yours and mouth pressed to your breast, he felt nothing but your love.

As he swallowed, hesitant, you offered him a smile. “You will not harm me or the babe, my love,” you assured him, fingers caressing his jaw as they began to drift lower. “If anything, you will be helping me.” When he frowned, uncertain - disbelieving - you hummed. “Feel,” you instructed, reaching to guide the hand on your rib cage to your breast. It was engorged, heavy and warm in his palm, and you sighed as his thumb mindlessly brushed the nipple once more. “When the babe is born, she will have a nursemaid and I will be left with swollen, leaking tits.”

Aemond acted without thought in that moment and allowed himself to take what you offered so freely. His hands lifted to the straps of your thin nightgown and brushed them off your shoulders, giving him an opportunity to free you from the confines of the fabric.

Pregnancy had changed your body, in a way that terrified him at first - something so delicate now rested within you, a life he helped create - but now drove him to the brink of madness.

A searing warmth, all encompassing and hotter than any dragon fire, enveloped him. And a single glance at your face proved that you did, too. You felt the heat of him, the warmth of his palms - of his heavy gaze, his lithe body - and feared you were only moments from begging him to act when he took mercy on you. The gift you offered, the act you so willingly encouraged him to indulge in, was one he would never refuse.

His touch had never been exceedingly gentle, nor was it particularly hesitant. Aemond was a man assured, confident. There were moments he could be tender, even teasing, but none compared to the moment at hand.

The press of his hands to your sides, just beneath your rib cage, was soft. It was a featherlight pressure, one you feared you might not have felt were it not for the overwhelming sensitivity of your skin, and you sighed contentedly as your hand returned to the silver strands of his hair.

Slowly, and with a caution you’d never before seen in your husband, Aemond’s hands lifted. 

Aemond was almost tentative, careful, in the way he touched you. His violet eye remained fixed on your face - watching, waiting for any hint of discomfort - and you offered him an encouraging smile as you leaned into his touch. “I am not fragile,” you reminded him, a small grin forming at the words he’d once used to declare his surprise at your steadfastness, your unwavering strength. “I will not break.”

A moment passed, in which you watched your husband gather himself, before his hands lifted to your breasts. He seemed to marvel at the weight of them, the warmth of your skin - usually so cool in the depths of his chambers - and hummed.

As he leaned in, gaze finally dipping to your breasts, you expected him to press his mouth to your skin - bury his face in the crook of your neck, press his lips to your collarbone and work his way down - but you were surprised when he tipped his head to catch your lips in a searing kiss. Though he never left you wanting, never left you doubting his desire for you, this kiss stole your breath.

The kiss was unlike any other; fierce, passionate. It fanned the flames of desire already burning within you and turned it into an uncontrollable blaze. As eager as you always felt for his touch, the fierceness of his kiss left desperate tears pricking at the backs of your eyes.

Calloused hands - toughened by years of swordplay and dragon riding - began to explore in earnest.

Every press of his palm, every swipe of his fingers drew soft noises from your lips, cries that Aemond swallowed eagerly. He relished in them, in the noises only he managed to draw from you, and you felt the evidence of his pleasure press into your thigh.

For a moment, you wondered if he might refuse your offer. However, the thought disappeared with a swipe of his thumb over the sensitive skin of your nipple.

Aemond allowed you to break the kiss, lips parting in a sharp gasp, and wasted little time in pressing his mouth to the curve of your jaw. There seemed to be little hurry in his actions, the way he nipped and kissed the soft skin of your throat, but you could feel the tension in his corded muscles as he crowded into you. He seemed to be nearly vibrating with desire, a tremble that made you lightheaded - an awe that you could produce such a reaction in such a man - and you struggled to catch your breath as he began to descend.

There was a brief worry - a split second thought that never fully formed - that he might avoid your eye in the way he had the very first time, when there was no babe and no real reason to suckle at your breast. However, it was quickly driven away as your husband’s violet eye lifted to meet yours.

Soft kisses were pressed to your skin, across the tops of your breasts and between them - violet eye fluttering as he paused only to marvel at the newfound heat emanating from your skin.

“The maesters told me I would remain warm until the babe is here. They jest it is because I carry the blood of the dragon,” you informed him, hand falling to the back of his head to cradle him close. “I’m not sure I mind. But, tell me, husband; what do you think?”

Though your husband had always been a man of few words, he seemed lost in his own thoughts. The words you spoke meant little to him, it seemed, as he found himself capable of only a simple reply. “I shall keep you warm and full,” he promised.

Already, he could see you swollen with his seed - with the blood of the dragon - again and again. He would see you round with his babe as many times as you would allow and you could see the promise in his eye as he glanced up at you. “Perhaps it is good there will be a nursemaid, then,” you hummed, unable to bite back your grin as Aemond’s mouth pressed just beneath your breast. “So you may spend as much time at my breast as you’d like.”

In the moment, the present mattered little. All that had come to pass ceased to exist and all that might come felt good, sweet. In reality, the future seemed bleak, but in the moment, there was a future. And all either of you wanted was to pretend.

Without sparing another moment, Aemond’s lips wrapped around the sensitive nipple.

The warmth of his mouth, the swirl of his tongue, was cautious at first - desperate to keep from hurting you, to keep from causing any pain - and you hummed contentedly as his eye fluttered shut. Your fingers carded through his hair, touch as delicate as his own, as your free hand fell to his chest.

Aemond’s heart thrummed beneath your fingertips, the beat of it as erratic as you’d ever felt it, and you felt your own beat in time with his. 

No part of you ever imagined you would find yourself here - in bed with your dragon rider, the fierce swordsman and Targaryen prince, suckling at your breast - but there was no dismay in it. The pair of you were two halves of a whole: him, desperate to be wanted, needed, loved; you, desperate to love, to want, to need. There was a balance, an equal give and take, that saw you both offering the other what they desired freely. You understood one another in a way no one ever had and you were grateful for that understanding as Aemond attempted to crowd closer.

“My sweet love,” you whispered, fingers brushing the silver strands from his cheek. “This is what we both needed,” you assured him, voice a quiet lilt in the dim of his chambers. “Feels so much better.”

A pleased hum - proud, soothed by your praise - escaped your husband as his free hand returned to your thigh. His fingers pressed into the plush skin, anchoring himself to you, and you sighed at the touch. His hand was so close to where you wanted him and you asked without sparing it a second thought.

“Aemond,” you whispered, hand reaching for his - fingers clasping around his wrist and dragging it higher. “Touch me, please. Need you.”

Calloused fingers slipped between your thighs, lips curving into a smile at how readily you parted for him. His touch paused only for a moment, as did the gentle pull of his lips at your breast, as he seemed to realize the state you were in.

Slick pooled between your thighs and Aemond readily gave you what you wanted. His fingers swiped through your arousal, gathering your slick, before his thumb found the all-too sensitive bundle of nerves. 

The wet slip of his fingers was self-assured, an action he’d taken a thousand times before, and it seemed as if he knew your own body better than you did. Heat pooled in the pit of your stomach, filled your veins and blazed up your spine, as he rolled the numb beneath his thumb for a moment before abandoning it to press his fingers to your slick opening.

“You enjoy this,” he accused, finally allowing his violet eye to open as he released your nipple and urged you to turn so he could reach the other. “As much as I do,” he continued, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I do,” you promised, sigh escaping your lips as you felt his long fingers press into you - curling, parting, manipulating in the way only he knew. “I have never turned you away,” you reminded him, words ending in a breathless moan. “If you are as depraved as you imagine yourself, then consider me your equal.”

Aemond seemed pleased by your assertion, proud to have found a wife who not only indulged him, but understood him. And you were pleased, as he returned his mouth to your aching breast, that he trusted you enough to allow you this glimpse. 

The press of his mouth to your breast was growing ever eager, desperate for whatever you could give him - and, as it turned out, was not much yet, though you knew he would patiently await the day it would be more. It was soothing, almost, in a way that eased the ache you’d begun growing weary of, and you parted your lips to thank him for it the moment his thumb pressed to your aching clit.

A keening moan escaped, a noise that might’ve brought an embarrassed heat to your skin in the beginning of your marriage, but such noises were familiar now and your husband reveled in them.

Some small part of you wondered if he meant to have you both finish this way, him with his mouth pressed to your breast and you with his fingers curling into your heat. Only, he gave you little time to wonder as he lifted his head to glance at you fully.

“I know your body aches,” he hummed, press of his fingers slowing - thumb stilling on your clit, earning a displeased whine. “Do you think you can take my cock, my love? I have no desire to cause you discomfort.”

“You will,” you huffed, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging - just slightly, “if you do not fuck me.”

Aemond laughed, then, a sound you imagined few others had ever heard, before pulling away from you. You whined at the loss of his touch, the emptiness that filled you and the cool that suddenly chilled you, before your attention was stolen. His lips wrapped around his fingers, capturing the taste of you on his tongue, and you swallowed hard to keep from lunging at him as he settled against the headboard himself.

“Come here,” he beckons, hand already reaching for you hip and hauling you onto his lap. “So fucking perfect.”

Before the babe, before your stomach began to swell, this was a rarity. Aemond preferred you beneath him, pressed into his mattress as he left you seeing stars, but he’d admitted he could see the beauty of the position you now found yourselves in.

As expected, the moment you settled atop him, his gaze returned to your breasts. “One may think you’d never seen tits before,” you teased, not bothering to hide your grin as Aemond rolled his eye. “I jest, my love,” you hummed, reaching out for him - encouraging him to return his mouth to your breast. “It helped,” you assured him. “They no longer ache as they did when I woke. Thank you.”

Aemond lifted a hand to the back of your neck, then, and pressed his lips to yours in a kiss. The kiss was more familiar, something you’d grown to expect - grown to love - and you felt yourself melting into it as he crowded you closer.

The swell of your belly made it difficult to press your body as close to his as you would’ve liked, as close as he would’ve liked - in the privacy of his chambers, beneath the sheets of his bed, Aemond liked you a close as he could have you - but it was enough. His hands explored your warm skin, slick beneath his fingers and no longer aching in the way you’d complained earlier, and you relaxed into his touch as his hand slipped between your spread thighs once more.

Though you expected his fingers to return to your center, Aemond’s hand fell to his cock. You breathed something akin to a sigh of relief as you felt the tip glide through your slick folds, catching on your aching clit and drawing another keening moan that he eagerly swallowed.

The head of his cock nudged your slick opening, nestled there as you rested on your knees, before he lifted his hand to your hip and pulled you down.

A familiar stretch, a familiar warmth, captured the whole of your attention as you sank down onto Aemond’s cock.

Every pulse of him, every twitch of his cock - every ridge, every vein - was heightened by your sensitivity and your eyes nearly rolled back as you sank onto him fully. He filled you wonderfully, perfectly, and reveled in you saying so. Only, he barely allowed you a moment at all to speak before his mouth returned to your breasts.

Each sensation was overwhelming in its own right, every touch more consuming than the last, but the combination of it all had you seeing stars.

The warmth of Aemond’s body pressed to yours, the way his muscles clenched as he rocked his hips up to meet yours, the insistent press of his hand - fingers dimpling your skin as he held you tight - was all magnified by the warmth of his lips pressed to your breast. Even as his hips snapped, pressing his cock in deeper, the press of his mouth remained soft.

Aemond was careful to keep from hurting you, despite his desire to devour you - clear in the lust darkening his violet eye - and you lifted a grateful and to his cheek.

“Feels so good,” you breathed, gaze meeting his. “You make me feel so good, my love.”

The praise he craved, the words he desperately needed to hear but would never ask for, earned you a sharp snap of his hips - driving him deeper, pressing you closer - and you gasped as his teeth carefully nipped at your sensitive nipple. He’d already taken what little your body had produced, would need to wait a little longer for more, but that did nothing to stop him from continuing to suckle at the soft skin as his thumb fell to your clit.

As he so often tried, your husband pressed you on to your pleasure first. His fingers, his mouth, his cock; all working together in an eager attempt to earn your blissful cries. That sharp violet eye watched your face, watched your lips part and your lashes flutter, and you could see the pride in his gaze as you began to quiver in his grasp.

When your release washed over you, heavy and so desperately needed, Aemond allowed himself to let go. He chased his own high for a moment, sinking into the pleasure of you - of your slick cunt, of your swollen breasts.

With a muffled noise, Aemond spilled into you - his spend filling you with a warmth you swore you would never tire of. It was accompanied by a soft gasp, a quiet noise that you wouldn’t have heard over your own heartbeat had you not been paying him such close attention, and you reached for his cheek with a soft smile.

Aemond easily lifted his head, his mouth meeting yours, and gave you the kiss you wanted. It was an assurance for you both, a gesture meant to calm - to serve as a reminder that you were bound, one - and ended with his forehead pressed to yours.

“All of this,” you whispered, the pair of you still struggling to catch your breath, “will end and we will carry on. And when our duty is done, we will be free to live our lives as we wish. You did not start this war, but you will finish it.”

“I will,” he promised, violet eye glimmering with an unscheduled tear as his hand fell to your swollen belly.

It was a promise he couldn’t make in good faith, nor one he could reasonably be expected to keep, but it was enough for the moment. The idea that this is what awaited him - this life, you - made him desperate. He wanted nothing more than to carry on, than to spend the rest of his life right here, and he would do anything in his power to make it happen.

And, if he could not spend the rest of his life here, he would perish in the pursuit.

____________________________________________________

Author's Note: Aemond just. Captivates me. How am I supposed to survive two years without more content?

Taglist: @anaya-rhys, @holypeacecrown, @marvelously-flawed, @travelingmypassion, @letsgotothehop, @reynacrawford, @liannafae, @ffsg0jo

[thewritetofreespeech]

kinktober: frottage

tags: frottage, making out, secret relationship, targaryen incest [aemond/rhaenyra's daughter], immense pinning by aemond

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“Where is Aemond?”

“I do not know your grace,” Larys replied. Remaining calm in the Queens frustration. She had been hunting for her middle son for hours, and he was no where to be found. “I have checked with the guards and sentries, and no one has seen him leave by Vahgar or horse.”

“So, he must still be in the city.” Alicent deduced. Hoping he was still in the castle as well. “The conclave starts soon, and we need…a united front for the court.” The plan to weave her family’s place to the crown was to start today. First, but claiming Driftmark back from Rhaenyra's brood. Then, with them illegitimized, start making the case that Aegon should be king. “He knows how important today is. How could he do this to me?!”

“The prince is nothing but a servant to duty.” Larys assured her. He may not see eye-to-eye with the prince, at least with the one he had left, but the Lord did respect that he seemed committed to his family and their goal. “I’m sure he will come out of hiding eventually.”

In a further, deeper part of the castle, indeed hidden away from all those who had not truly explored it, Aemond laid sequestered with his maiden. Marveling at her beauty in the low light between kisses. Beads of sweat forming at the back of his neck from the warmth of the candles in the small space and their hot, panting breath. Bucking against each other with soft gasps & grunts in the nest he had built for them

“We have to go.” His lady insisted. For the umpteenth time, yet neither one of them had made a legitimate effort to move.

“No, no. Not yet.”

Aemond didn’t want to go back to the ‘real world’. A world where his family and hers were fighting. Where the rift between them seemed to grow every day. Separating them. Lines in the sand now a chasm that seemed impossible to overcome.

He also knew what was to happen today to Rhaenyra's bastards, and that she might not forgive him for his part in the plot of disinheriting her brothers. Aemond wanted to stay here a little longer, where she wouldn’t be mad at him.

“People will be looking for us.” She told him as he moved to her neck, which was freely given.

“They’ll never find us.” It had taken him years to find this place and even then it had been difficult to remember where the opening was until he had committed it to memory.

“Oh yes. Because you’re so clever. Ow!” His lady yipped but then moaned when he bit at her neck. A true Targaryen. Wanting a little pain with her pleasure.

“We should just leave and never come back.”

He’d made the offer before. To take their dragons and ride until they reach new land. Conquer it like their ancestors. Build a new kingdom, instead of being stuck in this conflicting one.

Yet, every time, she just laughed it off as a joke like she did now. Not realizing the seriousness of how much he wanted to leave, and never come back, and just be the two of them in the world. “You would miss the tarts too much if we left. Come on. Let’s get going.”

Aemond finally let her go, though disappointed about it, and let her right herself.

In the right light, her mused hair and clothes looked like she had been riding. No one would think where Rhaenyra's Targaryen jewel had truly been. In the arms of her scorned, much less beloved uncle. His cock throbbed in his breeches. Desperate to make her truly his, but he would not take such liberties. Aemond would not tarnish their jewel nor besmirch her honor. He loved her too much for that. That’s why he wanted her to run away with him, so they could be together. Growing up in a world beloved & adored, she does not see that her parents will never allow them to marry. Never allow them to be happy. Their jewel will be given to someone politically inclined to help secure her mother’s place on the throne, and Aemond would be unhappy & unfulfilled.

He would join the Watch before he call anyone but her wife.

Righted and upright, Aemond tucked a lock of silver behind her ear. Marveling at the affection reflected in her eyes. “Will you see me later? After the conclave?”

“Of course.” She told him. Her earnest something he wanted to hold on to. “Here, or somewhere else before dinner?”

“Here.” Where he could pretend. And if he spoke his words sweet enough maybe she would take him up on his offer to finally run away.

They exit their nook and depart. Her back to her family and Aemond to his. His mother found him readily enough, given how frantically at this point she had been looking for him, and asked where he had been.

“Day dreaming.” Was all he told her. It was a peculiarly enough answer that it halted all further questions from his mother and left him to get ready for the meeting.

After today, his daydreams where all he might have left. Let him keep them for a little while longer at least.

[entitled-fangirl]

Luck. (P3)

Cregan Stark x reader; Robb Stark x reader

Summary: the reader finds herself enjoying the past with Cregan more and more.

There is light smut in this one. You have been warned.

Part 1, 2

Masterlist

.............................................

Only two days later did it happen again. 

She and Robb were in the crypt visiting Robb's ancestors for the first time since their marriage.

The torch lit up the dark cavern and only the sound of their footsteps and water dripping could be heard. 

Her head moved on a swivel, going to each statue that was placed in the crypt. 

"And that's my grandsire, Rickard," Robb said as he pointed to the statue. "Oh, and this one," he said as his eyes moved to another one, "my father's sister, Lyanna."

She stared at the statue of Lyanna. She remembered her father, King Robert, who had spoken about Lyanna. 

His only love.

"She's beautiful," she said quietly. 

"Aye," Robb smiled. "The statue hardly does it justice to be honest with you."

She nodded, letting her feet begin to walk further into the crypt. Her eyes landed on a statue of a man, burly and broad. "Who is this, Robb?"

"Brandon. My uncle," Robb said with a downturned lip.

Her brows furrowed as she studied the face of him under the torch light, "He seems like he's never known a smile."

Robb couldn't help the light laugh that left him, "I don't think he did to be honest, my love." He let out a light sigh, "my mother was suppose to marry him."

Her eyebrows shot up and she turned to him, "What?"

"He died at the hands of the Mad King, along with my grandsire. They were trying to protect Lyanna."

Her eyes softened, "I am sorry. That cannot be easy to live with."

He shrugged lightly, "It is the past. So be it."

"That does not make it lighter of a burden."

"No," he said as he chewed the inside of his cheek. "No, I suppose it doesn't."

He held out his arm to her, and the two continued their walk. 

As Robb pointed out various people, the were walking closer and closer to the eldest of the Starks. 

"Rodwell. Barthogen. That one is Jonnel. All brothers and Lords of Winterfell." His eyes roamed the statues he'd seen a million times before. "Raya. Mariah." 

It was a lot to take in for her. At least 300 years of history sat in these caves.

"Benjin, Brandon, Cregan, Eric…"

Cregan. 

Her head seemed to perk up at that. "I'm sorry. Which ones?"

Robb grinned, pointing them out again. "Benjin, Brandon, Cregan, and that one is Eric." 

Even from far away and by mere torchlight, she'd know the form of that statue from anywhere.

"My lord!" A voice called down the dark crypt.

Robb sighed, "Forgive me, love. I'll deal with this. Here." He handed the torch to her, "I'll return quickly. Do enjoy your time here."

She took the torch, feeling his lips brush a gentle kiss to her forehead before he walked away. 

Her eyes were glued to Cregan's statue. 

She forced her feet to take careful steps to the stone carving. 

It was a decent resemblance, she knew that. It seemed that his statue guaranteed him a longer life than she had seen, noting the changes in the face of it that could've only been made through time. 

He lived to be much older. 

He was no boy when she had seen him, no. But this in front of her? Was a man who had seen it all.

She looked back down the direction Robb had left before a soft sigh left her. 

She reached up, gently brushing the cheek of the statue, ignoring the dust that collected on her fingers. 

"You're not as handsome in stone," she mused in a whisper. 

When it seemed Robb wouldn't be back for a while longer, she lowered herself to the feet of Cregan's memorial to sit. 

She turned herself away from it, moving to lean back on the feet of his statue. She closed her eyes as tried to relax as she leaned back.

She let out a grunt as her back met the cold stone floor.

Her eyes shot open.

The crypt was a lot darker. 

She pushed herself up, looking around in confusion. 

Cregan's statue wasn't there. 

Most of the statues weren't there. 

Every newer statue Robb had shown her only minutes ago was nowhere in sight. 

She stood with the torch, cursing lightly. 

Of course, it had to happen again.

…

After a while of losing her way in the dark, she managed her way back out of the crypts.

In the middle of a heavy snow. Winterfell wasn't far if she hurried. 

The snow was thick and she was hardly near wearing the right boots for it. 

In her time, it hadn't snowed in almost two weeks. But here? It seemed to be the first snow of the winter. 

She pulled her thin cloak around her and placed the hood over her head. 

It was going to be a long trek.

…

Nearing the doors of Winterfell, one of the guard's eyes widened, "My lady!"

He ran to her, "Are you hurt, my lady?"

She was shivering. She moved to speak, but her jaw chattered too harshly, so she shook her head. 

He nodded, "C'mon. I'll get you to Lord Stark myself."

The man shrugged off his cloak, throwing the heavy furs over the girl. 

They made it into the castle walls in no time, and a message was sent to Cregan. 

The guard forced her to the nearest fireplace, barking at servants to arrange for hot cloths. 

She stood shivering by the fire when Cregan entered. 

He stormed in, throwing the door open loudly. When his eyes met hers, they held a concern look to them. He quickly moved to her and took her face in his hands with a firm grip, "What were you thinking?"

"I was… I…" She tried to speak. 

"Gods, you're freezing! C'mere."

He held her to his chest, the warmth radiating off of him as it always did.

"Why were you out there?"

"I… I'm sorry…"

He sighed, "You're here now. I suppose that's all that matters."

…

"Where are you?" She asked with a giggle.

Her feet moved quickly, nearing the wardrobe she was sure younger Brandon was hiding in. 

She pretended to look around for him, and she smiled when she heard his giggle come from the wardrobe.

She ripped open the doors, laughing when she heard his playful scream. 

He made a run for it, moving down the hall at a fast rate. 

She ran behind him, determined to catch the boy and win the game. 

She rounded a corner, seeing him gone. 

She looked around as a small crease came to her brow. 

Perhaps he was too good. 

Or maybe she had returned. 

Brandon came from behind her, tackling her down. She grunted from the force, catching herself with her hands with a laugh. 

She twisted her body around to grab him in her arms and pin him down. 

"I win!" She panted. 

"Hardly." He teased. 

She scoffed and let him go, now sitting up. "I had you pinned."

"Yeah, but you were losing before."

She chuckled, "I don't believe that's how the game works."

He grinned, pushing her down again and trying to tickle her now.

She let out a shriek as he did so, but it was quickly gone when someone picked the boy up off the ground.

"Attacking my lady of Winterfell?" Cregan teased. "That's treason, boy."

Brandon wriggled in his brother's arms, "She started it!"

"Does not matter. I side with the lady." Cregan smirk grew, "Perhaps I should teach you a lesson."

"No! NO, Cregan! No, don't!" He giggled. 

Cregan turned to Y/n, "What do you think, my love? Shall the boy be punished?"

She sat up on the cold floor, "Do be merciful today, my lord. He's just a boy."

He grinned, "My lady has spoken." He set Brandon down and ruffled his hair, "But I'd best not see you attacking her again."

Brandon grinned with mischief, "Yes, my lord."

Cregan playfully pushed his head away, "Go on, Brandon."

The two watched him run off before Cregan's hand moved to help her up. "You two have much more energy than you should."

She smiled and brushed off her dress, "You say it as if it's bad."

He pulled her to him, "Only when I hear your shriek across the castle and I fear for you."

She scoffed, "It was not that loud."

He chuckled, "I assure you it was."

She flushed, "Apologies, Cregan."

He shook his head, "None of the sort. It's quite nice to hear your laughter throughout the halls."

She looked up into his eyes, studying them, "I'm glad."

He grabbed her chin, holding her in place, "You know, I've been missing you, as of late."

"Have you?"

"Aye. Quite fiercely."

Her eyes turned playful, "Well, I'm right here."

His darkened, "That you are."

He picked her up bridle-style with ease. She shrieked at the sudden movement and held onto his shoulders. 

"Scared I'll drop you, pretty?"

Her wide eyes met his. 

He grinned, "I've not dropped you before. I'd be a fool to now."

He began to walk down the halls of Winterfell, nearing their chambers. He threw open the door and playfully threw her onto the bed. 

He shut the door and locked it before moving next to her on the bed. "How long before they'll require our attention?"

"Who, my love?"

"The North."

She grinned, "A few minutes, I'm sure."

He gained a predatory look, "I can use a few minutes wisely."

She turned her head towards him, "You haven't yet."

He grinned, pulling himself over her and kissing her deeply.

She let out a groan at his suddenness and kissed back fervently. 

He pulled off his clothing piece by piece without breaking their connection. 

She thanked herself for choosing a dress with ties at the front today, for now Cregan was eagerly yanking at them, pulling them out from the corset. 

He began to kiss down her neck, grinning when he hit a spot that made her moan.

"Can I have you, my love?" He asked against her skin. 

She sighed and closed her eyes, "Please."

He growled, capturing her lips again as he pulled her small clothes off, moving from her only to get it over her head then continuing as before. 

His fingers moved under them, tracing her thighs teasingly.

"C'mon, Cregan."

He smiled against her lips, "Yes, my lady."

He moved two fingers into her, watching the groan leave her lips. 

She could hardly think of Robb at this point. 

She let out shaky breaths as his fingers pumped in and out of her. 

"Ugh… Cregan…"

He grinned, "I know. I know."

He kissed her again, curling his fingers into her, catching her groan with his mouth. 

A knock sounded at the door, "My lord?"

Cregan's jaw clenched as he pulled himself up, not withdrawing his fingers, "What?"

"You're needed at the petition, my lord."

He grinned, curling his fingers again, watching her try to hold in a moan. 

"I'll be there momentarily."

He pulled his fingers out as he pulls himself away from her with a dissatisfied groan. 

He grabs his tunic, pulling it over his head as he looks over to her. 

She's staring up at the ceiling in thought. 

He smiles, kissing her cheek. "Join me?"

That's strange.

Robb never asked her to join for petitions. He always said there was "No reason to worry a lady with trivial things."

"You don't have to, of course."

She shook her head, "No, I… I would like that."

He nodded, his teasing smile returning, "Get dressed then, pretty. We've got the North waiting on us."

She sat up and kissed him, "Can't keep them waiting then."

Hopefully, the North was not waiting for her return to Robb.

Who knows when that will happen again?

.......................................................

Taglist: @rlblackbarbie, @rebeccawinters, @happinessinthebeing, @abaker74, @helo1281917, @idonotknowenglish, @zizouu23, @aelora-a, @twinkletwinklenotastar

[peppertoastuniverse]

pep reads: gojo satoru – long fics (pt.1)

Part 2

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ

☆ the way you love me by @peachsayshi [AO3/tumblr] [status: ongoing ◦ 29/? chapters] [smut!] [fwb!gojo] #pep's first fic she was OBSESSED with #real good good smut WITH FEELINGS

“We can stop anytime. If either one of us feels like... this ...might be too much. We stop, no questions .” “We can stop anytime,” Gojo repeated “... and nothing changes between us .” You swallowed hard at his last statement. You may not be able to read his eyes but you could hear it in his voice that he needed reassurance. “No matter what happens, we’ll still be friends...” you replied softly, “now kiss me before I change my mind.”

☆ you and me by tomodachi [AO3: ] [status: completed ◦ 5/5 chapters] [tear jerker] [eventual smut!] #pep cried #gojo just kinda loves you real hard

“Prisoners say the most comical things when their judgment comes,” you tilt your head, lifting a finger before him, “Who are you?"

--- History is written by the winners, Satoru knew this well. It was only when he lost and got sealed inside the Prison Realm he learned how to be weak and find out a long buried truth.

☆ ito by @peekamatcha [AO3] [status: ongoing ◦ 48/? chapters] [super slow burn] [shinto elements] #pep DIES with every update #the TWIST in that one chapter omg

You, a former sorcerer now working as a university lecturer, were hoping to maintain your distance with the sorcerer world for an eternity to come. However, with the reappearance of an upperclassmen from a decade ago, you are forced to go on a journey which you would rather sit out of. But somebody must save humanity from the impending apocalypse and apparently the job falls on the shoulders of you two.

It would have been alright had he not been everything you didn’t want to be reminded of. And the sacrifices to be made may be more than what had been bargained for. ☆moonlight by @septembersummer [AO3/tumblr:] [status: completed ◦ 10/10 chapters] [smut!] #pep loves this AU #pep SCREAMED

Gojo Satoru is dying. And no, it's not his fault this time.

The curse which is withering Satoru into an early grave is actually the product of his great, great, great, great, great, great, great grandfather, who had a couple of sons that refused to procreate. And what does a proud, powerful man do when his sons refuse to fuck, and there won't be another heir to the clan?

He curses his own bloodline, of course.

It's only natural that he forces them through some twisted form of sorcery to become uncontrollably, violently attracted to the person they're most genetically compatible with.

It's even better that the curse creates a permanent, unbreakable bond between the two unwilling lovers. That's right, it usually takes more than one fuck to make a baby-- so, why not force them to have twelve?

Satoru wished his ancestor would be resurrected from the grave, just so that he could kill him again. That is, before Satoru inevitably dies.

He's had a good run, he thinks. Now, all he has to do is make sure you don't find out that you can fuck him back to life and try to very stupidly save him from himself.

(here's a spoiler: you do).

☆ a typical family by @literalia [AO3/tumblr] [status: completed? ◦ 32/32 chapters] [non liner narrative] [dad!gojo] #pep absolutely MELTED #slice of life #pep's gojo comfort fic

"satoru. where did you get these kids?"

or

after a six month absence, satoru shows up at your door two little kids following behind. chaos ensues.

☆ and if i cant see by hollowdonut [AO3: ] [status: unknown ◦ 26/? chapters] [slowburn] [eventual smut!] [tw: ptsd] #pep loves the reader's dynamics with gojo!

They say eyes are the window to the soul, but Gojo’s eyes are almost always hidden behind a blindfold. Even when they aren’t, you can never tell what he’s thinking.

You wonder if you should’ve taken that teaching job in Kyoto instead.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ

bonus!

☆ all hail the empress! by @chuluoyi [tumblr/AO3: ] [status: unknown ◦ 1/? chapters] [smut!] #pep loves this AU #but THE END THO? OMGGG you are an empress perfect in every way... until your husband suddenly casts you aside for his expecting mistress. but you won't be dethroned just like that, because the newly coronated western emperor, gojo satoru, sets his sights on you, and thus your revenge against your ex-husband begins...

[petew21-blog]

Romania dreaming

It has been a few months since I met George on the site for long distance dating for gays. He was from Romania, kind of cute twinkish guy. Never had much luck. I honestly can't say why I went on that website, maybe I was just bored, but it turned out as the best decision of my life.

It was strange cause from the start, we knew we had chemistry between each other, but the distance made it complicated. We often sex-chatted on the website. About what we would do to each other and so.

One day I told him I wanted to jerk off furiously, because of what he wrote, but my rommate was unfortuantely in the room. Then just a strange idea popped into my head. "What if you'd swap into his body? Then you could be with me." George told me about his Romania ancestor magic skills he had, but he did just some small parlor tricks from time to time. The bigger spells were harder. He needed a friend for that. A friend that I could be. And that I could benefit from too

George loved the idea, but was scared at first. "What if the other one in my body ruins my life while he is me? I can't let that happen."

"Ok, you know what. Find anyone hot from your life that you would like me to swap into and I will come to see you. Then you'll swap me back and I'll see what the other person did. Maybe the spell makes them think they're us. That would be neat" I suggested

George was more confident now and even sent me some photos of his straight colleagues from work, so that we could see if they behaved differently after swapping back. I immediately set my eyes on Daniel. His hot, absolutely 100 % straight, colleague who worked out. Insanely hot.

We both agreed. I got ready in my bed. I told George to start the spell at 21:21. I looked at the clock and still had some minutes left. I tried to fall asleep. Maybe Daniel would be asleep in my body and it would be easier. Then it hit me. Strange nauseating feeling and the light

I was standing in the locker rooms. Cold win from the AC on my bare torso. Bare torso? Holy shit. I am shirtless in the locker rooms of some gym. That's something I never expected to happen to me. I looked down. First thing that caught my eye were the shorts. Then I looked at my beautiful muscular torso. My new arms. Then I caught my new reflection. In the mirror was the guy that I saw in the photo. Daniel. "Daniel" I said aloud. His voice sounded so strong and commanding. If he told me with this voice to get down on my knees and suck him, I would. Speaking of sucking I looked in my shorts. Nice flacid shaved cock. "Gotta find out how big you are when you're hard big guy". His phone vibrated. Fuck, I almost forgot I was suppose to send Daniel proof of swapping bodies

I sent the photo to George's instagram. Then I wrote:"This is what you'll be looking up at tonight while you suck me off"

"Peter? I can't believe it. You're really him. You have to come over!"

I wanted to get his stuff and leave immediately, but the some of his friends got to the locker and ridiculed me for being a pussy and leaving without lifting. I don't know if it was Daniel's personality or something else in me, but I felt like I had to prove them wrong. And then I said things I didn't even know. Shit about cars, girls, FUCKING GIRLS. I even lifted without knowing how. This body was on autopilote.

I left early without saying anything. Bunch of messages from George waiting for me and being stressed out what happened. I explained and asked for his adress of his dorms.

The twink I used to talk to late at night was waiting for me in black compression shorts and black shirt.

"Heey...." was all I let him say out loud. I agressively pressed him against the wall and kissed him. Tongues twisting around each other, my teeth biting his lips, hands feeling up and down his body. Slowly we were working our way to his bed. I set him down and took of my shirt. He was visibly shocked, that his work colleague was now in front of him stripping down. I whip out my hard dick and pushed it into his face. He obliged immediately and worked his way with his tongue around the bright purple head of my new dick. He was working it like a pro, trying to swallow it whole, not gagging. But that didn't matter, I had to fuck his ass. Now.

I turned him around, not even stripping him, only pulling a bit of his shorts from his ass. I spit into my hand, got it on my dick and pushed myself in. He screamed out. But I didn't care, I just pused inside and kept thrusting. He was so tight. His ass was so tight around my shaft. I shot my cum inside of him. Pulling out and immediately searching for clothes to leave.

"You're leaving?!"

I snapped out. "Fuck, jesus George I am so sorry. I don't know what happened. I think Daniel's personality still had effect on me. I didn't mean to be so rough on you. Please forgive me."

"It's ok. It did hurt at first, but it was worth it. I still can't believe you're him now. And I lost my virginity with Daniel who I crushed over for years! That's so amazing!"

"Wait, this was your first time? But, you told me all the stories. Was none of it true? Jesus, George, maybe if I knew I would have fought Daniel's personality harder."

"I didn't expect we would me irl. I honestly didn't expect the spell would wrok, but here we are. Daniel is here. In my room. Wait, I have a great idea!" he started casting a spell

"Wait!" I wasn't fast enough to stop him.

But now I was looking at Daniel. From his point of view. Already feeling more submissive than in Daniel's body. The personality of the original body truly does have an effect on the one swapped inside.

George was now posing in front of the mirror. His eyes focused on his biceps and all the tense muscles.

I was now in George's twink body. I could feel his ass hurting from the sex with Daniel's body. I could feel the cum in his ass. I felt the attraction towards Daniel's body. But I didn't feel right like I did in Daniel's. I wanted to swap back.

George now got to his new dick, which was already throbbing hard again. How that's possible, I have no idea. But as soon as he started jerking his new cock he looked at me and I felt his predator eyes on me. Fuck, this is gonna hurt

The next morning I woke up sleeping next to George still in Daniel's body. We didn't sleep much tonight, but don't get me wrong, while the sex felt great I still couldn't shake the feeling that I was in the wrong body. As soon as George woke up I told him about my dysphoria with his body. He got mad. I could tell that Daniel's personality took over. And then few seconds later I found myself in my original body again already in my university lecture.

For several weeks George didn't answer my messages. I could only see as his Tumblr profile had more and more photos of Daniel's body in the gym etc.

Not only was I worried, but I had to admit to myself that I was extremely jealous. I was in that body first. I need it more than he did

I kept spamming him with messages and then one day he answered. The message said:"I need to fuck this guy in gym. I'll swap u with him tonight. Be ready". Man, I think it's better to have one body close to Daniel's rather than be far from him

He did as he said in the message. I woke up again in the bright gym. Now lifting. I proceeded to not cause suspicion.

This guy I was now in was really handsome. More muscular even than Daniel I dare to say. I could feel that his personality was not as strong as Daniel's. He seemed more kind in my eyes, but who knows who he is. I may not know before George tells me. I saw him on the other side of the room eyeing me. Stalking me even. I left the body on autopilote and finished the workout. His body was probably used to take photos after so I let him

Maybe I could stay in his body. He is really hot. And more handsome too. But I don't know. He is the type I would love to have as a boyfriend, not to be him.

I followed George to the showers. We were eventually the last people in the gym. I got into the lockers. Patiently waiting for him to speak.

"You're Mihai now. He's the owner of the gym. So we got the place for ourselves. Let's hit the showers"

I followe him. Mihai, what a nice name for this guy. I don't feel that Mihai is someone who would just follow others and do what they tell him to. Maybe I figured out how to overpower the personality of the person.

We got naked and stared at each other.

"Nah, this is wrong." and yet again he proceeded to perform his ritual

I was now Daniel again and was looking at Mihai. Now the reality of how he acted hit him. And as I suspected before, Miahi was irl a very nice guy. "I am so so so sorry Peter. I didn't know that Daniel had such a strong personality. I tohught I could fight it, but most of the time I just found myself being the passenger, but still enjoying his life. It's so weird. But I feel better now as Mihai. Maybe you should stay in Daniel's body for now. I'll learn to control the personality of others, just as you did and then we can safely try to swap with other people. What do you think?"

"I think" I said as I turned on the water in the showers "that you need a post workout shower. And that George and Mihai need to get to know themselves better" I smiled at him kneeling down to the nice hairy cock already waiting for my mouth

Few months later

Are you asking if we stayed in their bodies? Well yeah, kind off. We made their bodies our main ones. We got them to live together, start a relationship and now even if we swapped into other bodies Daniel and Mihai bodies continue what we established. Romantic right?

Me and George often take trips to some new locations travelling around the world, enjoying life of other people. Most of the time we try to find some straight friends travelling to foreign locations, trying to score some pussy there and slightly changing their vacation plans. Heh, there was this one time where we didn't even exit our hotel room. For a week. Crazy right? That was wild. But maybe I'll tell that story another time and tell you how our life in Mihai and George is proceeding

But now we are in the bodies of these two gym bro friends, waiting for the gay bar to open. See you

A story from messages we came up with while body swap roleplaying with @hunkpossesion

I changed the plot a bit, but still the hot bodies remained.

[biapascal]

I have a request pretty pls 🙏 could you maybe write a lil sumn about the reader/oc being married to acacius in a diplomatic marriage to prevent war and show that her country surrenders and they sent her as like a prisoner of war/hostage princess situation. the reader/oc loves Marcus but doesn't think he'd choose to love her over roman beauties and Marcus doesn't want to force her into anything bc of the politics. With like whole lots of yearning, jealousy, angst and oh, more yearning, and the delicious most happiest of endings pls pls pls

Hi honey! 🫶🏻✨ I hope this is enough 🪶

Duties

Tw: forced marriage, loss of virginity mentioned.

First, they killed your soldiers while destroying your city. You saw the streets you walked in your childhood reduced to ruins. The houses were graveyards. They have taken everything and everyone away from you, even from your family. When they brought you to Rome, you were apparently too pretty to be killed. You could have been a slave, but the emperors had other plans for you. You became the general's wife. As your husband, your life was his property as well as your body. In Rome, before the wedding, the girl is supposed to leave everything from her childhood home behind. You couldn't do that because you had nothing left. They took care of you on your wedding day. You had to be a pretty thing for your future husband, nothing more than a doll, like one of those you used to play with as a child. During the ceremony, Acacius was stoic. You were forced to smile and had the impression that he knew this, but couldn't tell what he thought about it. It was almost as if marriage to a beautiful woman was a duty and not a gift from the gods. You were then taken to the house of Marcus for the last rites that would lead to the loss of your dignity. Paradoxically, your husband should have cleansed you with spring water. Meanwhile, the thalamus was prepared. Crocus flowers, considered by the Romans to be a powerful aphrodisiac, were scattered on it. After these rites, you were undressed by an older maid, who also removed ornaments and jewelry that could be dangerous to your husband. you were naked, shivering, your eyes colder than your body. Your sight was blurry and you tried not to look at him. "Can we blow out the candles?" you asked the maid. She shook her head. "You have to see him, now I'll leave you two alone." You finally looked at Marcus and you didn't care that he was a trained general, you would never let that man deflower you. You would rather be killed than to have to carry his child. "Just kill me already, because you are not taking me tonight" you spat. He didn't react. You reached for something to cover your shaking body and jumped when you felt his hand on your arm. "I'm not going to take your virginity tonight." Your expression hardened. "Be a good wife, do as I say, go where I suggest, but know that I won't rape you.” He seemed so serious, you almost couldn't believe it. Then he also covered himself. "Now lie down” he ordered. You slowly did as he said. "Tomorrow they will ask you what happened tonight. Lie, tell them it was painful" you nodded, holding your breath. You fell asleep crying, but you were glad he didn't touch you. The next day, as expected, everyone asked about the first night of marriage. Lying wasn't hard, the other women believed you right away. Life in Rome was depressing. You missed your hometown, the way your people used to act, the typical food. You missed your family, the laughter of the children, your own laughter. Every night Marcus was aware of it and heard you sobbing. He knew it was his fault. The emperors wanted a Roman world, without borders. He was forced to kill and take things from people, but he was not used to it. With you he was gentle, you found yourself searching for him more than once, and you hated yourself for it. "Can I talk to you?" You were in the garden, praying to your ancestors. You nodded and he sat down. "The Romans are greedy. We don't want freedom, we want power."

"We?" you caught him off guard. "No, actually I don't care about power, but I don't expect you to believe me" you gave him a lame smile. "I have to do what the emperors want, and what they wanted back then was your city.” He apologized and you couldn't forgive him. But you felt he was being honest.

February came, the month of rebirth, the Romans had to pay homage to the god Lupercus, and you were still a virgin. the passage to adulthood and the fertility of women was celebrated. Rome was chaotic and several women and men approached you. It was clear that you wanted Marcus to be with you. You couldn't find him and were pulled into the middle of the crowd. He had always given you the impression of being a man true to his own integrity. But you did not know if he was in a brothel on this occasion. "The General's wife!" Two men grabbed your hand and you tried to free yourself. "Come on" they dragged you away from the crowd, and you begged them to let you go. "You should be used to this" one of them said. They were beginning to get irritated with your stubbornness. They were in a hurry to have a look at you and consume you. “Let me enjoy my wife” Marcus arrived. “Won’t you share her with us?” He kissed your cheek and shook his head. "No, I won't share my treasure." You felt strange, you really enjoyed that touch. After that night, you began to soften and you began to know your husband more and more. He was tired, he didn't care about expanding the empire, he just wanted to rest. He was kind to almost everyone, except the emperors. He was wise. He taught you about his ancestors, and you gained the courage to tell him about yours. The nights became your favorite time, you spent hours talking and learning from each other. This was your yearning for intimacy. One night you felt like there were other things you wanted to know, other ways to know him. "I have to be honest with you, Marcus" he nodded. "I'm glad you're my husband. You told me to follow your instructions, but what you have done these months is let me grieve, you have even protected me. Am I still a gift of war or something else?" He approached, his face dangerously close to yours. You felt your cheeks burn crimson. "No” he looked at your lips. "If I may, I'd like to kiss you." You nodded and then felt it. The fear was gone, the mourning was done.

[londonfog-chan]

Emperor Geta x Barbarian!Reader: Free Will Sacrifice

Jesus H Tapdancing Motherfucking Christ. Here we go.

Big, huge shoutout to @eddiemunsonmash for beta reading the clown shoes snippet I had written of Geta falling for a masochistic pseudo-viking, in a time where the vikings didn’t even exist yet.

Look, I love the idea of being a concubine as much as the next person, but I also want to be a gladiator secretly. Like a battered, tired warrior draped in silk holding a sword whose retirement consists of getting dominated on occasion by her insane emperor boyfie. Just two deeply, weirdly fucked up individuals being nasty is all I ask.

Gimme a break here, alright? I like to pretend that Geta thinks he can dominate anyone, meanwhile his partner can foist him over her shoulders and launch him into the sun.

Content Warnings: 18+ Only, Fem!Reader, Elements of power imbalance, dom/sub sadomasochism shenanigans that would not pass a vibe check under normal circumstances, slapping, choking, unprotected p in v, dirty deeds done dirt cheap by two fucked up individuals, you can fix him she can chase him with a knife to humble him, breeding kink

Summary: The northern barbarian allows the emperor to believe he is able to make her tame.

****

“ Soon we will be gone

A free will sacrifice

As free men we are born

And free we shall die “ - Amon Amarth

****

“No gods… no masters…”

A stinging backhand struck across your cheek and jerked your head to the side, a headache coming as your head was already bobbing listlessly up and down from the incessant pounding assault from below. The thrusts of his hips were brutal, erratic. You knew the taste of coppery sanguine from his rings splitting your lip wide open.

This was of course by design, purely by your own allowance. Should you want to, you could just as easily regain control of him, but you allowed Geta to take his pleasure as if overtaken by rut.

And you loved every minute of the pain he inflicted in a desperate bid for domination.

“You will not speak of gods or masters. You will only speak of me! You are mine, and mine alone. Now say it. To whom do you belong?”

Parched lips split into a wide grin. You knew then that among all the things he tolerated about you, he would never tolerate your flagrant disregard for authority, nor your atheistic views.

Cockhead stabbing at your cervix, he drilled into you as though he was a farmer armed with an aratrum, determined to sow the seeds of his bastards inside you. In a frenzied moment of madness, you hoped one would take. Even if it left you gravid and vulnerable.

To be used and manhandled as per your consent was the first stroke of indulgence you had experienced in this place. Such was an indulgence not to be overlooked. It was a blessing. A kindness.

Such kindness was foreign to you in this land. To Rome you were an aberration — the northern barbarian— your foreign blood was meant to be proffered as libation to the gods, your body merely altar bread to be thrown into the colosseum for the rats to consume.

Yet Geta saw in you something more.

By some twisted miracle of fate, you snatched freedom out of the hands of desperate half-starved men; they who were unused to the sting of hunger deep in their bellies stood no chance against your determination to survive. What was suffering to you? Nothing more than an itch of an insect bite. Meaningless. Worth less than, because, at the very least, the itch of the bite was acknowledged with a scratch. When nursed by clansmen in the piercing gales blowing across the glacier’s barren face, the only thing that mattered was the struggle.

Struggle to overcome the cold.

To survive to see each morning sun, shining against the blue ice and snow.

You did survive. Using a blade made strong from the bones of your ancestors, you cleaved that freedom from the enemies of the Romans to choose this life.

The co-emperor had asked what you wanted with this new found freedom. Despite the fact that you were a woman missing your lower lip, and plagued with blindness of one eye, Geta had offered you a choice. No law existed for free women, only free men were expected to live to tell the tale of their colosseum victory, living lower than the slaves in Rome’s underbelly.

Geta’s cruelty would have sealed your fate had you been taken under different circumstances. Aberrant conquests were plucked out specifically as offerings to Caracalla, lesser goods bestowed to his lesser brother to be ejaculated in and on. Had you not shown your ability as the strongest fighter the colosseum had known, Geta would have given you to his brother on a silver platter.

Yet he worried about you beating his poor, weak minded sibling into bloody pap with nothing but fists. Poor, simpering little Caracalla would never stand a chance before you castrated him in a blind rage.

Admittedly, Geta was intimidated himself. It took six men to hold back your berserker strength, and you did not calm down until a blade was held to your throat. He did not expect anything less than for you to ask for a seat as a general, to demand a place in his army barracks. He would have given it freely too. Anything to keep you out of the streets where the senate feared you would begin a massacre of the people in bitter vengeance for your capture.

In your northern tongue, you made one request, translated by a warrior — frightened army fodder— who just so happened to know your language.

You wanted Him.

You wanted Geta.

“Sire, the barbarian… She says she is the sword forged in the ashes of her kin. She is the war bringer, the northern wind that can cripple the Roman empire. She is the free will that defies the hand of the gods… Her only request is that she wishes to take whoever she so chooses to bed — for this night and all the nights after, and she has chosen you.”

Any lesser man would have laughed. Made light of the wish. Geta’s generals had laughed. Hard. Teasing and baiting the mutilated free woman who had the audacity to lust for the glimmering, golden perfection of the co-emperor.

But the emperor’s genitals had other motives, and instantly sprung to life at the mere mention of the request.

You saw it. Trying to maintain your composure, you turned your head to face his arousal with your eagle eye.

A desireable length. Uncut, favoring to the left.

Clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth, you called to the emperor, like a man catcalling a prostitute.

Geta’s erect penis tented under the deep indigo of his toga picta when he heard this click. A primal response to a primitive call.

A call to he who looked into your one good eye, and saw passionate fire burning in your iris.

You knew he was yours from that moment on.

“Tame me…” you had told him, words translated by the frightened warrior, “Make me docile… Take me on the ground in the way that the animals do.”

His amber eyes darkened.

He would make you tame, and take you on the ground on all fours, like the animals took their mates.

You would become concubina to the co-emperor. Just as you asked.

“You will not defy me with your silence, heathen!”

The emperor hissed into your ear through clenched teeth, his shaking body bringing you out of an orgasmic trance as he ceased jerking you back and forth, spearing you on his length.

“I am your master, your commander, your ruler. Say it.” He demanded.

“You are… my Geta-…” you began.

The emperor’s hand lashed at your cheek once again. Harder. With purpose. His fingers tangled into your knotted hair as he yanked your head back. His other hand gripped your hip, holding you in place as he looked into your one good eye. You would not be permitted to use such affectionate familiarity while in the throes of being taken like a beast.

“No… you will address me as your emperor.” he hissed.

He leaned forward. Warm, boozy breath against your skin. Hot, dripping wet tongue lathing in your ear canal.

“I am your emperor, not ‘your Geta’. I am your ruler, your master… your commander... I alone will decide whether or not you are to live, or to die. Now say it. Say it, heathen of the north.”

“Mu… my G…”

It almost slipped out on accident. Pure reflex and poor command of the Roman tongue made you seem incompetent in his eyes. You could see his ring adorned hand ball into a fist in warning, could already taste the golden bands even though they were nowhere near you yet.

You decided enough was enough. You needed more. You needed to take your pleasure, aching and throbbing with need around his cock shaft.

“My Emperor…” you whispered, the word foreign on your tongue as you mispronounced it.

Geta’s body stilled.

My Emperor…

It had come out of your mouth all wrong, mispronounced and uncertain. But to him, it was a start. Something to be worked with. His fingers loosened in your hair, hand moving to cup your neck, a gentle touch as he throbbed inside you.

“Again…” he murmured, voice soft and commanding.

“My Emperor…”

In a single fluid movement you contracted around him, his eyes nearly fluttering shut as his brow wrinkled. Geta was holding back, the moan catching in his throat as he remained stoic.

“Say it again…” he said, voice strained, “Sweet siren, sing your song once more…!”

“My Emperor… Princeps… Augustus… Imperator…”

When he heard these titles, you felt his heart thrash against your back. In a frenzied stutter his hips began moving involuntarily, utterly captivated in his rhythmic dance of taking pleasure. You responded in kind. Mouth open, tongue lolling out to catch the warm, wine tinged saliva he spit into your mouth.

“Again…!” He croaked.

This time, he held back no shameful sound of lovemaking. His voice was cracked, thrusts becoming erratic as he pumped in and out, pace quickening with anticipation. Low, tantalizing bleats of erotic mania escaped from his ruddy lips. One ringed hand wrapped around your thick neck, squeezing the breath from you with one hand as the other was coated in slick spit, fully intent on either slapping your firm buttocks or your face. Whatever was more convenient depending on your answer.

He would not abate his abuse until you said it again. Would not allow you the sweet release of climax until you screamed his name to the heavens, to the gods you didn’t believe in, to all of Rome should he have commanded it.

“Princeps…!” You keened.

And you were rewarded. Two moistened fingers, vigorously creating friction against your clitoral hood.

His title left your mouth in a wail as you sprayed his sheets with the aftermaths of ecstasy.

“Imperator… Imperator…!”

[sweetadonisbutbetter]

Good day to you, I adore your stories and it would be interesting to read fan fiction about the Hotel Hazbin Adam×Reader | woman| as Adam's third wife who is pregnant with his child, what will be his actions before birth and after, if it seems strange to you, then you can not write or not respond to my request, I will not be offended💗) Have a nice day/evening Sorry for my bad English, I'm Spanish;^

RAHHH THANK UOU SMM ☹️☹️ it’s not strange to me i would love to write this 😁😁 also yr english is perfect!!! i will write this as if they were in heaven, so it’s a little more shocking, and it will be a mix of a fic and headcanons

New Life, even after Death | Adam x AFAB!Pregnant!Reader

Relationship: Romantic Warnings: MENTIONS OF (PAST) ABUSE!! it is a brief mention and doesn't carry much weight but it is there regardless. Mentions of pregancy and birth, light NSFW, Adam being Adam

You needed to check if your eyes were seeing things correctly, or if you needed glasses. After all, there wasn’t any way that you were seeing two lines. You stared at it for a moment, unsure of what to do. After a moment, you snapped out of it before hurriedly grabbing the other test that sat on the counter and using it.

Now you had 7 tests in front of you, all with two pink lines on the little screen. You were holding the last one, waiting with anticipation to see what it would say. However, you knew what it was going to say, the previous ones had the same response. You had to face the reality that you were pregnant.

You are pregnant.

You were wracking your brain as to how this could be possible. You were in the afterlife, there was no way you could be pregnant. Not that you weren't overjoyed, you were elated. In life, you had trouble conceiving, much to your disappointment. It seemed that your husband at the time was also disappointed, killing you after your nth attempt and nothing to show for it. In your final moment, you couldn't help but feel a bit relieved, thankful that you had never had children with that man, in fear that he would do the same to them. After passing with no biological children of your own, you had grown to accept that you wouldn't ever have any.

When you first entered heaven, you were uneasy with how many children's souls there were. However, with time, you grew to enjoy the company of them. Playing with them while on your way to places or when you had the time, before either you had to leave or they were called out too. It warmed your heart and helped heal that small part of you that mourned never having kids. It helped you strive to be better and to experience the joys of being a mother. It was also how you had met your current husband, Adam.

You have no idea how it happened; one moment one of the children was introducing you to the first man, next thing you know, you were walking down the aisle with him standing at the end. You weren't one to complain, he was so sweet and patient with you. He was the first one you told your past to, from your childhood to your trouble conceiving, to even your terrible first husband. He held you tight as you cried and recounted the last half of your life. In turn, he told you of his life on earth. His life was like being married twice, and raising his kids and ancestors. His favorite pastime was watching humanity, the small acts of kindness from one person to another.

Of course, he had his faults, he was human. He would mock and laugh when people did stupid things. When someone he saw as not worth his time, he was known to wave them off without much thought. He would get angry over the smallest of things, and throw small tantrums when he didn't go away. Ever clingy when there was another male, in fear of losing you much like he did both of Lilith and Eve. You could list all his faults and flaws, yes, however, you could also list his virtues. 

All in all, you loved your husband and knew that he loved you in return. It seemed that now, you both would have something to love just as much. You dragged yourself out of your thoughts as you looked down at the test, seeing that it had the results.

You stood in the bathroom that you shared with Adam, holding the final pregnancy test as it showed the same results; the same two pink lines that repeated over each test. Overwhelmed at the prospect of having a child now,  you fell to your knees as tears began to build up in your eyes. You were going to have a baby.

A baby. 

The thought became overwhelming and you sank into a full-on sob. There you were on your shared bathroom floor, crying like a baby as your wings were wrapped around you, doing your best to soothe yourself. Clutching the pregnancy test to your chest, you hunched over so that your stomach was touching your knees. You were so happy, so sad, so confused at the whole thing that once you finished crying, you just sat there for a while, staring at the wall. You were so out of it that you didn’t hear the knocking at the door or someone walking in. 

“Hey sorry to barge in but Adam is looking for yo-oh.” A voice snapped you out. You turn to the voice and see Lute, still fresh in her exterminator outfit. Once she gets a good look at your face, she tenses for a moment, before dropping her weapon and rushing to your side. “Hey- is..is everything alright? What happened?”

Unable to say anything, you pull the test away from your chest, showing Lute. She took a moment, looking at you weirdly before taking it. After a while, her eyes widened as she turned to you.

“How?” She questioned, to which you could only sob-laugh in response. She didn’t say anything, just looking at the test that was still in her hands. You both sat there on the floor for a while, before another voice rang out in the house. 

“Hey, sugar tits. I’m home.” Shuffling came from the front of the house as you and Lute shot up, looking at one another. Both of you scramble to your feet and leave the bathroom, grabbing all the numerous tests and taking the one from Lute. “Damn. Where the fuck is she? She normally runs to greet me.”

Lute picks up her weapon and leaves the bathroom first. She hesitates for a moment, looking back at you with a twinge of concern, to which you nod, assuring her to go ahead. 

“Go ahead. I just…need to gather my bearings first.” She nods and leaves. As she leaves, you hear Adam begin to question her. Now alone in the bathroom once more for a few moments, you do your best to make it look like you weren’t sobbing your eyes out and figure out how to tell him.

You can’t help but think of his reaction. Would he be happy? Upset? You couldn’t fathom the idea of him getting upset, recounting his stories of when he took care of his firstborn. The fondness that was not only in his tone but also in his face showed that he did enjoy being a father. However, it had been over a millennia since he took care of a baby. Would he even want kids? You shake the thought and take in a deep, albeit shaky, breath. Leaving the bathroom and going to the front of your home, there you saw Adam. He stood by the front door, his mask removed and looking entirely bored of the conversation he was currently having with Lute. His eyes lazily move across the room before they land on you, he seemingly brightens before ignoring Lute and running to you. He grabs you by your side, spinning you before pulling you into a kiss. 

Startled by his reaction at first, it took you a moment before you returned the kiss. Placing one arm is thrown over his shoulder while the other flies to his hair, gripping it.  You make sure to keep the test firm in your grasp and not drop any. Feeling him smirk into the kiss, he begins to nip at your lip, attempting to deepen the kiss. You hear Lute clear her throat, stopping both you and Adam from furthering the kiss. Adam smacks his teeth in annoyance, looking at Lute.

“What? Can’t you see I am greeting my beautiful wife?” He says, squeezing you a little closer to him. Lute rolls her eyes before looking at you at the hand that had 7 tests back to you. You don’t say anything but instead smile softly at her, assuring her she can leave.  She nods to you, taking her leave. With Lute gone, Adam smirks, before looking at you and snuggling his face into your neck. Giggling at the feeling of his stubble tickling your cheek, you pull him away by his hair. He grunts softly, the tug not too painful for him. You spend a moment looking at him, smiling at the look of your husband as you swear he has hearts in his eyes. You opened your mouth with the intent to greet him, however it seemed that your voice didn’t agree with what you wanted. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

Once again, it takes a moment before Adam responded.

“What?”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

He passes out lol

He was not expecting that information after coming back from an extermination

Once he wakes up, you hand him the various tests, all showing that you are indeed pregnant

Very confused as to how you are pregnant like you both are dead? nothing should be working as it would

You both go to the seraphim and ask if they know what is going on

They don't lol

If anything, they are the MOST confused as to how this is happening

After the initial confusion, Adam is overjoyed to be a father again!

Literally tells everyone he talks to in any manner

"HEY FUCKFACE I GOT MY WIFE PREGNANT!" "Adam. That's the mailman." "HE NEEDS TO KNOW-" "Sweetie, no-"

In other words, word spreads fast.

Before you know it, all of heaven is literally congratulating you when you step out of your house

A lot of glaring at Adam, who just smiles and acts all innocent

Now that he knows, say bye-bye to independence.

Of course, he will give you space when you need it, but if you don't say anything he is most definitely hovering over you.

In your first trimester, he isn't as clingy, actually the most laid back throughout the entirety of your pregnancy.

Second and Third are his worst phases, never leaving your side at ALL- literally walked into the women's restroom after you (you promptly kicked him out, stating you just needed to piss)

When you start to show, he coos at your stomach, touches it, and sings rock songs to it.

Also will get you clothing that pronounces your pregnant belly

sure he would get you loose, more comfortable clothing too, but literally is so obsessed with your belly 

Compliments you all the time, rubs you from head to toe when you ask

Coaxes and reassures you that he loves you, even as your body changes 

Speaking of body changing: boobs

He will grow more obsessed with your boobs as they grow bigger from the milk

Will ask you numerous times throughout and post-pregnancy if he can drink from them 

Kinda won’t stop until you cave, he just wants to try it so bad. The last time he dealt with a pregnant woman, was Eve and at that time he didn’t even know it was an OPTION. so seriously heaven-bent on trying it

His other kids, the ones he had with Eve, are elated to have a new half-sibling. 

Because of this, when you throw a parent shower (You and Adam elected to be surprised for the gender), you gain a ton of stuff. Somehow got 3 strollers, a huge chunk of clothing for about the first 1.5 years of the baby's life, and a lot of toys. 

The seraphims even went and gave you a personal gift for you and you alone.

Even with all the preparation, when your water broke, Adam was NOT prepared in the slightest.

Panicked and forgot all the important stuff while you were hunched over, holding your tummy as you waited to be fully dilated. 

You had a private room to yourself to give birth, Adam by your side the whole time, a worried look on his face. He remembered when Eve gave birth, the pain and fear on her face mirrored that of yours.

However, in the end, everything was alright.

After squeezing the life out of Adam’s hand, most likely cutting off all circulation in it, you gave birth to a little girl.

Adam was beyond elated, loving his little girl so much even though she was covered in vernix, blood, and mucus.

Having mainly sons, anytime his daughters just existed in front of him, he couldn’t help but be elated at their existence. 

Couldn’t wait to hold his daughter and feel her tiny hand wrapped around his finger

Not that he wasn’t checking up on you the whole time, he was.

When the doctor and nurses who helped deliver his daughter whisked her away to clean her, his attention was solely on you

Murmuring against your skin, telling you how great you did, how lovely of a job you did, and overall praising you and making sure you were okay.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

“She’s okay?” You say, panting and entirely exhausted. He nodded and kissed your forehead. 

“She is perfectly fine. What about you mamas? How are you?” He asked, wiping the hair that clung to your sweaty forehead. You could only nod as you tried to catch your breath. He smiles, relieved that you are okay.

You both stay there for a while while waiting for the doctor to come back. While waiting, you can’t help but think of how surreal this all was. You were finally having your baby, after your whole living life of wanting one, praying, and getting nothing in return. But now? You were watching the door for the doctor or nurse to walk in at any moment with your little girl, as your husband held your hand and stroked your hair. 

Eventually, a nurse entered the room, with a small bundle of pink and purple. Adam stayed by your side as the nurse made his way to your side, handing your baby to you.

“She is perfectly healthy. Just wanting mom at the moment.” He says before leaving you, your daughter, and Adam. Holding her in your arms was a type of bliss you couldn’t help but tear up over. Here she was, your joy, the love of your life, your world, planet, and stars. Tears slip out as you kiss her forehead, the feeling of her wispy hair tickling your lips.

“She looks like you.” Adam softly says after a moment. You look at him and see he has the look of utter softness and love on his face. You smile in return, tears still running down your cheek.

“What? She just came out? I don’t think she looks like anyone just yet.” You say as Adam presses his hand against your cheek, wiping away some of your tears with his thumb. 

“I know. But if she is anything like you, I just know she is going to light up the whole afterlife.” 

You sob a little more, putting your hand over his and close your eyes. 

“How did I get so lucky?”

“I think I am the one that got lucky,” Adam says, causing you to open your eyes. He leans in to peck you on the lips, you lean in turn. After the kiss, you rest your foreheads against one another, relishing in the bliss of the moment. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

RAHH AND THATS IT!!! I HOPE U ENJOYED IT ANON AND ANYONE WHO READ THIS FAR-

i went into this not an adam lover, and i came out one as his no. 1 fan. i love writing characters i wouldn't normally. lets me think about them more than i normally do LOLL I wanted it end it off on the sweet note, so if there is more that was wanted i apologize but regardless, i loved loved lovedd writing this super soft and fluffy

i just checked my word count how is this almost 3k words what the hell

[phoward89]

Based on this ask

Angst factor for this is thru the roof! And guess what? It's a series! I'm thinking this is going to have at least 3 parts. Masterlist

Jealous!Coryo x Reader, Odair!Ancestor x Reader.

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. That man is a walking blood red flag waving heavily in the wind! engagement (not reader), eventual smut, infidelity, love triangle, manipulation, stalking?, gaslighting, fluff, Head Gamemaker! Coryo, District 4 Cruise Ship Heir!Odair OC.

Chapter 1:

“I'm going home, find some other dumb whore to fuck.” You spat, flipping the blankets off your body and making to get out of the platinum blonde’s bed.

“Darling, don't be rash. Come back to bed.” Coriolanus told you, reaching his long arm out and wrapping his large hand around your wrist before you could truly move away from the bed.

“Come back to bed after you just told me that you're going to marry Livia Cardew?!” You screamed at him, feeling like you wanted to yank his pretty platinum blond curls right out of his head. “Are you nuts, Coriolanus?”

The man, whose beauty rivaled that of the Roman and Greek gods, narrowed his baby blues at you. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he told you, “Stop overreacting, darling. It's an arranged marriage that doesn't mean anything.”

You arched a brow and tilted your head at him. “Oh, so that's supposed to make me feel better? Make everything okay?” You sarcastically asked, yanking your arm out of his grasp and flying out of his bed.

His king sized bed with the luxurious crimson satin sheets that you'll never inhabit again.

“Y/N-” Coriolanus began, only for you to loudly cut him off with a shriek of, “Don't, Coriolanus. Don't say a fucking word to me.” Shaking your head, you ironically scoffed, “I should've seen this coming. After all these years of sneaking around with you, I should've known that you'd pick some rich bitch to marry and have a family with.” Gathering your clothes, that were scattered all over the room, you heartbrokenly spat, “Not your poor neighbor girl that's only good for a good fuck whenever you're bored or need to get some pent up aggression out.”

“You're not-” Coriolanus began, icy blue eyes softening with an unchecked emotion (perhaps guilt?), as he watched you toss your things on the white rose upholstered bench at the foot of his bed.

“I love you, Coriolanus.” You softly sighed, barely loud enough for him to hear, while tossing your ruined lace panties at him. What use were the lacey things all torn to shreds?

Not much.

You grabbed your matching lace bra, quickly putting it on, while muttering, "I foolishly fell in love with you and you don't give a shit about me.” You’re on the verge of tears as you grab your dress. While pulling on your dress, you sadly sighed, “Never did and never will, but I guess I was hoping that maybe you would, but I was such a dumbass.”

Your words hit Coriolanus hard, like a 2x4 in the head hard. He never knew that you felt like this. Crawling over to the end of the bed, causing his pure white silk duvet to pool and crinkle around him, he reached out and took your hand in his before you could turn away to grab your heels. He looked at your face, silently willing you to look into his icy blue eyes (but you refused to give him the satisfaction- that manipulative fuck).

But maybe if you would've looked at his eyes you would've seen that they weren't gleaming or shining. That his icy blue eyes were dead and empty, like those of a shark.

Giving up on you looking at him, the platinum blonde man (who had his political dreams within reach) began to tell you in a velvety tone, “My darling rose, you’re not a dumbass. I'm sorry you're hurt, but-'”

But before he could continue his lies (Are they lies? Who knows, but you think they are.) you cut him off with, “Don't even finish your sentence. Just shut the fuck up and let me leave with whatever little piece of dignity I have left.”, while forcefully yanking your hand out of his.

“I won't shut the fuck up because I don't want you to leave.” Coriolanus told you, scrambling out of the bed, his long legs nearly tripping him as he chased after you.

You’re grabbing your heels as he tries to reason with you. “Announcing my engagement with Livia and marrying her is so I can gain political allies and power. It has nothing to do with love, in fact I hate her.” While sliding on your black kitten heels, a pricey designer pair with red sole bottoms- a gift from him (probably for your services…), he placed one of his large calloused hands on your shoulder. Coriolanus’ baritone was softer than usual as he revealed, “I want to be with you.”

“You don't want to be with me, you just want me as your mistress so you can have your kinky fucks.” You told him, pushing his hand off of your shoulder. Marching over to his dresser and grabbing your bag (some imported designer leather tote bag- dyed a deep shade of crimson- he gave you, most likely because you let him do whatever he wants to you between the sheets), you told him the blunt truth of, “You don't love me and I'm not going to stick by your side as your mistress.” Shouldering your bag, that matched the color of the manicure you just had done (which he insisted on paying for), you declared, “I deserve somebody to love me with their whole heart, not just their dick, so I'm leaving and never coming back.”

“Please, don't leave.” You heard him say as you walked out of his room.

“Please, baby, don't leave me!” He frantically begged, his voice a loud shout, as he followed you down the hall in a run. Barefeet loudly slapping against the marble floor, sounding almost ominous.

Thank goodness his Grandma’am's hearing was starting to go bad, otherwise she'd be waking up and seeing one hell of a show. Also, thank goodness Tigress moved out years ago, otherwise she'd be a witness to a messy breakup.

A breakup that was long overdue.

You ignored him, only to power walk to the main entrance of the penthouse. You were almost to the door whenever you felt his cold, long fingers wrap around your wrist like an octopus’ tentacles.

“Please, stay the night. We can discuss this in the morning, just-just don't leave me, little dove.” You heard him beg, sounding so unlike his confident self.

A part of you wanted to give in; turn around and melt into his arms. But another part of you, the part that has grown up with Coriolanus and has seen him manipulate everyone around him knew that he was just saying whatever he has to in order to pull your puppet strings; make you stay.

You decided not to turn around, not to give into him. Instead you roughly pulled yourself free of his hold and walked out the door.

You knew that the platinum blonde wouldn't dare follow you, since running after you naked with his well hung junk swinging in the wind would be scandalous.

Unknown to you, after you walked out the door and slammed it shut in his face, Coriolanus quickly ran to his room and tossed on his diagarded pants and shirt from the evening. He ran out the door, barefoot and still buttoning up his wrinkled shirt, in hopes of catching you in the lobby.

Since you were in the only elevator the building has, he ran down the 12 flights of exquisite marble stairs to reach the lobby. Nearly slipping and busting his ass a couple of times too.

But when he reached the lobby it was too late, you were getting into the back of a cab you hailed. As Coriolanus ran to the door of the lobby, he felt his cold, dead, black, too small of a heart shatter into a million pieces as he watched you close the cab’s door with tears shining like diamonds in your eyes.

Seeing you crying in the back of the cab while leaving him, something he knew that neither of you wanted, made him determined to get you back.

If he thought that Lucy Gray betraying and leaving him hurt, well you leaving him because you felt that he couldn't reciprocate your feelings of love (because he was going to have an arranged marriage with Livia Cardew for political reasons) gutted him. Made him feel like he wanted to die.

Coriolanus wanted you; he always has. It's why you've been together, on-off, since your freshman year at the Academy.

He has to woo you back. He just has to.

Because the thought of you moving on with another man just doesn't sit right with him.

It doesn't matter that Coriolanus’ engagement with Livia Cardew will be publicly announced soon, he needs you back.

He can't have another bird of his flying away, can he?

Ending your decade long on-off situationship with the Head Gamemaker Coriolanus Snow hurt. Oh gods, it hurt so fucking bad! You felt like you’re just going thru the motions everyday after the breakup. Like you’re just surviving, not truly living, since you’re so sad.

So heartbroken.

And what hurts the most was that, even tho you knew you could never truly be with him, you still love him.

And you'll probably always love him in a way, even tho he'll never love you. Because he's your first love; they say you never forget your first love. That you'll always have a special spot on your heart carved out just for them.

So when you saw the engagement announcement for Livia Cardew and Coriolanus Snow in the social pages of the newspaper, you thought you were going to be sick.

The picture used for the announcement was professionally done; made the newly engaged couple look so lovely together. It made you sad to say, but they did make quite a match.

Two golden lions, regal with the world at their feet. Their blonde hair, her's a dirty golden shade and his a near white platinum blonde, styled impeccably set off their beauty. A beauty that was showcased in matching black outfits, hers a black tea dress with flowing sleeves and his a 3-piece suit with a red/black striped tie.

They looked every bit a couple of the old guard. A couple worthy of money, glory, and power. You're positive that Grandma'am’s proud of him.

If only you knew how she really felt. How Grandma'am Snow always thought that it'd be you and her grandson posting an engagement announcement in the social section of the newspaper. How she's so disappointed at Coriolanus for picking a heinous bitch instead of you, a girl who's soul reminds her so much of her beloved late daughter-in-law (Coriolanus' mother).

Then you couldn't help, but think that maybe Livia’s better for Coriolanus. Better than you are for him. Maybe he'd be happier with her than with you. After all, she came with the largest bank of Panem attached to her name and you came with nothing. You had no money or jewels to offer, just yourself.

And you weren't good enough for him.

Coriolanus Snow always craved power, wealth, and prestige. None of which you could offer him. None of which you gave a shit about.

All you wanted was to be loved, but he couldn't do that for you. All the cold hearted schemer could do was buy you fancy, luxurious, expensive things.

You had no idea that gifting was his love language. That he enjoyed seeing your face light up when he presented you with some gift that you'd never be able to afford on your own. He got pleasure out of spoiling you; taking care of you.

Unfortunately for him, you’re tired of being a kept woman. You don't want him to buy you a bunch of high end things. You want him and since he can't give you his love, you left. You decided to move on.

Which is why you blocked his number, because you had to move on and find somebody that you would be more than enough for. And you couldn't do that with him blowing up your phone constantly. You also started looking for a new apartment, because you couldn't keep having him dropping off roses at your doorstep all the time.

And since your mother to lived on the 8th floor of Corso apartment the Snow penthouse was in, it was a chore to avoid Coriolanus. So, to avoid any drama with him, you had to find a new apartment. You mother agreed; told you that to make a clean break you needed to leave the area. Move on from the part of town you were raised in; lived in.

You needed to fly on your own wings.

At least your job on the marketing team for Odair Luxury Cruises was safe from him. And that job did come with a sweet perk of allowing employees the opportunity of affordable housing in a select few luxury apartments near the downtown Capitol office building the company was headquartered in.

So at least your apartment hunting wouldn't be too hard.

You were right, your apartment hunt wasn't hard at all. In fact, due to your employment at Odair Luxury Cruises, you were able to secure yourself a 4th floor apartment at the Luxe, right in the bustling downtown of Capitol City, Panem.

Apartment #455 to be exact.

It was a lovely apartment with a courtyard view. It had 9 foot ceilings and white kitchen cabinetry in what could only be a top of the line kitchen. The open layout of the kitchen and living space has a modern feel to it. The lone bedroom in the apartment was very spacious and even had a walk-in closet; the apartment had a small study as well.

It was definitely an upgrade from your mother's apartment, which was nice due to the Plinths fixing it up after buying the building and moving onto the 11th floor roughly 4 years ago. (Unknown to you, Strabo Plinth did the bare minimum repairs to your mother's apartment and furnished it because Coriolanus asked him -more like nagged him- to.)

You're Luxe apartment wasn't as lavish as the Corso penthouse Coriolanus shares with his Grandma’am (the same penthouse he used to bring you to for all of those booty calls over the years) but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that you thought your new apartment was amazing.

And after moving in, you stopped receiving roses at your doorstep. Thank the gods. But since your new building had a doorman, you knew that was the reason you didn't have any more stalkery type floral arrangements waiting for you at your threshold.

And roughly a week or so after moving into your new place, you met your neighbor from across the hall.

#454

It was a typical morning, you had a travel mug of coffee in your hand and was dressed professionally in a pencil skirt and blouse (of course you're wearing those damn kitten heels he who shall not be named- as your older brother’s girlfriend calls your ex-fling of sorts- got you.) as you stepped out into the hallway of your apartment. Usually you never saw your neighbor across the hall, but this morning he rushed out the door- his shaggy bronze hair rustling around his shoulders- and his stunning sea-green eyes locked onto yours.

“Why, you must be new. I've never seen you before.” The tall and extremely handsome man smiles flirtatiously at you. Crossing the hall, to stand in front of you, he introduced himself. “Name’s Odysseus Odair.” Doing a little bow, he smiled a bit too brightly, “The pleasure’s all mine, my abalone pearl.”

Holy shit, is the heir of Odair Luxury Cruises your neighbor and flirting with you right now? No. No, it couldn't be. This has to be a dream.

Except it's not a dream and the heir to a large cruise company in District 4 that's based in the Capitol is really your flirty and handsome neighbor.

“You're Poseidon Odair’s son, heir to Odair Luxury Cruises?” Was all you could manage to get out.

“Yes, that's me, but your name would've worked better for your part of the introduction.” He laughed, the sound similar to the kree-ar call a seagull makes. Shaking his head, causing his bronze hair to skirt around his collared dress shirt (which has a few of the buttons undone to show off his tan and toned chest) he teased, “Usually that's how introductions work, pretty pearl, cause I already know who I am and want to know who you are.”

“I'm Y/N Halvir; I only know who you are because I work in the marketing department for your father's company.”

“Yes, your name sounds familiar.” Odysseus nods with a bright, closed lip smile that makes his cheeks dimple. “You need a ride to the office? I was heading there myself.”

You shook your head, quickly turning down his offer. “Oh, no, I don't want to bother you.”

“Oh, trust me, you won't be a bother.” He said with a flirty glint in his sea-green eyes. “In fact, we’ll go to the corner cafe; get some coffee, donuts, and call it our first date.”

You couldn't help, but giggle at his proposition. He couldn't be serious, could he?

But the way his sunshine like smile was aimed towards you made you realize that he was serious.

Which is why you smiled back and said, “Okay, let's have our first date before work.”

Holding his arm out, like a gentleman, Odysseus winked. “I'll even take you out tonight for seafood.” A sultry look appeared in his eyes as he told you, “I’ll make sure that the dessert's a mouthwatering, delicious one for our second date.”

Odysseus' innuendo didn't go unnoticed by you. And after everything you've been thru with Coriolanus, along with being single for roughly a month now, you decided that it was time to stop pouting over somebody that doesn't give a shit about you.

That it was time to let somebody new have a chance at loving you.

“That sounds like a plan.” You smiled, walking down the hallway arm in arm with the tall bronze man that was sculpted like a Greek god of old. “I'll make sure to wear a nice dress for the occasion.”

“Yes, please do. Even if I'm not one for dressing up, the place I'm taking you to does have a dress code.”

“A dress code similar to Avelina's?” You asked, assuming that whatever fancy seafood place Odysseus was taking you too would be similar in fashion sense to the restaurant Coriolanus took you to every year for your birthday, once you turned 19. (Would've been nice to go there more than once a year, but you figured your ex was just too embarrassed to be seen out in public with you too much since you weren't off the same pedigree as him).

“Ugh, I hate that place. It's so stuffy; reeks of old money.” Odysseus complained as the elevator came into view. Shaking his head, he explained, “Ocean Prime's not a black tie affair dress code, like Avelina's, but more of a nice cocktail dress and button up type of dress code.” Coming to a stop at the elevator bank, he pressed the call button for it and asked, “Do you own the classic little black dress? If so, it'd be perfect for dinner tonight.”

Nodding, you simply told him, “I own one.”

And you only owned one because all of the cocktail dresses you owned were commissioned by Coriolanus- for his cousin Tigris to design and make- and they were all various shades of white, red, and pink. You only had one little black dress because you had bought it yourself, with your own hard earned money, off of a clearance rack. It wasn't anything fancy and you never wore it, since Coriolanus always wanted you to match him if and when he took you somewhere.

So, tonight your little black dress will finally get worn. Worn for your second date with a man who seems warm like sunshine with sea-green eyes that twinkle dreamily.

It's been nearly a month since you left Coriolanus and he's not taking it too well. He never thought that you'd truly leave him. He always just assumed that you'd be there.

He knows now that he took you for granted. It's something that he regrets everyday, whether he admits it or not.

And what gnaws at Coriolanus is how you ignored every single attempt he made to win you back. Blocking his number and moving to a new apartment, in his opinion, was an extreme way to avoid him.

Your bitch of a mother, who smoked more than a chimney and drank more than a fish, refused to give Coriolanus your new number. She also refused to tell him your new address. He literally had to pay off somebody in the HR department of Odair Luxury Cruises to get him your new info. Which turned out to be useless since the doorman at the Luxe apartments was very strict when it came to adhering to the wishes of the residents when it came to who was and wasn't allowed to visit or leave things for them and wouldn't let him pass the door. Even when he flashed a large wad of cash at the man, he still refused to budge.

Ugh, moral people were the boil on Coriolanus' ass.

Coriolanus was tempted to just show up and corner you at work, but he ended up deciding against it. But only because he had political ambitions and didn't want a scene to be caused (one that he feels you would cause) that could be damning to his image.

He was sacrificing so much for his political dreams. Listening to Strabo Plinth and getting engaged to Livia Cardew, to gain more wealth and some political goals. Because if he couldn't become a Senator and, of course, after that the President of Panem then wouldn't his greatest sacrifice- his loss of you, be all for nothing?

One afternoon Coriolanus was neck deep in work, but he found himself staring at a framed picture on his desk. It was a picture of the two of you. One that was taken at the Yule Ball during Senior year at the University. It was his favorite picture of the two of you, which is why he has it framed on his desk.

But before he could get lost in the memory of that night, a knock sounded at his office door. Tearing his gaze off of the picture frame, he looked up to the door and simply said, “Come in.”

“Sir, your fiance's here to see you.” Coriolanus' personal secretary, a middle-aged woman who's hot pink lipstick matched her pixie cut, informed him while walking into the office.

“About what, Marge?” Asked Coriolanus while blinking his eyes- attempting to soothe the pain in them from the hot pink overload he was experiencing.

His corneas couldn't handle looking at his secretary’s hot pink paisley print dress since it made her hair stand out more. He also tried not to stare at his employee too rudely while noticing her fuchsia dyed eyebrows and matching pink mascara- that oddly framed a natural eyelid.

Averting his eyes back to his computer, (*cough* his framed picture of you *cough*) Coriolanus told Marge, “I'm busy; I don't have time to deal with her petty antics today.”

“I know that, Sir. I even told Miss Cardew that you're very busy planning the upcoming games, but she wouldn't hear it. She's demanding that I buzz her in; let her see you.”

“Well, don't.” Coriolanus told his secretary because the last thing he wanted to do was talk to his fiance, Livia Cardew.

Gods, how he hated that woman.

“What do you want me to tell her then, Sir?” Marge asked.

“That I'm in a meeting and can't see her at the moment.”

“Okay, but what kind of meeting?” The secretary asked, knowing full well that the dirty blonde Tasmanian devil of a woman out in the lobby would ream her out if she didn't have any details to give her. Saying in a meeting wouldn't suffice that shrew.

“Tell her I'm networking with somebody about the mass installation of mandatory TVs in the districts.” The cold, callous, platinum blonde man said without skipping a beat.

“I thought you successfully had that meeting yesterday?” The secretary asked in a tone that implied she knew her boss was a cunning piece of shit.

“I did, but she doesn't know that.” Coriolanus smirked.

“No, I suppose she doesn't.” Marge giggled. A giddy look took over the middle aged woman's face as she told her boss, “I saw Miss Halvir last night at Ocean’s Prime. It's a seafood restaurant.”

“What's she doing there? She can't afford it with what she makes working in the marketing department of that District 4 based cruise line.” Coriolanus scoffed. Giving his personal secretary a curious look, he asked, “And what were you doing there? I know you can't afford a place like that either.”

Marge fought hard to keep herself from rolling her fuschia framed eyes at Mr. Snow's offhand remarks about money. What both she and you couldn't afford. With a fake and forced smile, she told the imposing platinum blonde, “I was there because my daughter and her partner just celebrated their one year anniversary; the reason for Miss Halvir being there was that she was out on a date.”

“A DATE?!” Coriolanus asked in a loud roar.

A date. How dare you go out on a date. You're not supposed to be going out on dates. You're supposed to be his.

Despite being separated for nearly a month, you still belong to him. Hell, he took your virginity when you both were green kids at the Academy. As far as he's concerned, he owns your pussy.

“Yes, a date.” The bright pink-haired secretary confirmed before telling her boss, “With Odysseus Odair, the heir of Odair Luxury Cruises.”

“WHAT THE FUCK!?” Coriolanus loudly cursed, his icy blue eyes blazing with white hot anger.

You went out on a date to some high priced seafood (Since when did you eat seafood, other than those oysters rockefeller appetizers he orders for you two when he takes you to Avelina's for your birthday?) restaurant with Odair- the biggest manwhore in all of the Capitol! 

What the hell's wrong with you? You accuse him of not loving you, of just wanting you for kinky sexy, but here you are going out on a date with Odysseus Odair. The biggest fuck ‘em and leave ‘em guy in the Capitol. Hell, probably in all of Panem.

Marge was taken aback by her boss's reaction to finding out that you were on a date with Odysseus Odair the previous night. The middle-aged woman's never seen the cold and collective head gamemaker lose control before. And she didn't know how to deal with it.

All she wanted to do was spread some juicy gossip and to maybe tip him off that the Odair heir might be bringing a plus one to his upcoming engagement party; one that he's well acquainted with. Marge certainly wasn't expecting Coriolanus to start flipping his shit.

But what Marge didn't know was that Coriolanus is pea green with envy. That he wants to destroy Odysseus Odair because he's with you.

The woman that he's in love with, even if he won't allow himself to admit his feelings. Because he vowed to never ever fall in love after everything that transpired between him and Lucy Gray that summer he served as a peacekeeper in 12.

But love is something that can't be controlled. And that's something Coriolanus will learn first hand as he does everything in his power to get you back. To win you away from one Odysseus Odair, the bane of his existence.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover

[amsgrey]

he just sounds like that

Kaz Brekker x Fem!reader (established relationship)

synopsis: Arrogance has no place on a job, but you let it lower your guard. You pay the price, but Kaz helps bring you back.

I kind of like merging Book/Show Kaz and trying to keep accurate to his mannerisms and humour etc so hopefully this is good. I came about this idea after thinking about this scene from TLOU and how Kaz most definitely had an asshole voice. Also, I will probably make a few parts/drabbles about Kaz x Inferni Reader, because I love Kaz no apologies.

Warnings: Mentions of Slavery, reader reliving her time as a slave (briefly), Mentions of scars of wrists from slavery chains etc, A fumbley understanding of the technology of the time and inferni powers (it's been so long since I read the books)

Getting split from the other crows was distressing, but there was nothing you could do about that now. You and Kaz just had to keep going, trying to work your way back to the rendezvous point.

"Tell me again why you thought this would work," You hissed to Kaz, who had been leading you in a circle for what felt like forever.

Kaz gave you an irritated glare, "It did work."

You scoffed, "Yeah, that's why we're lost in this saints forsaken mansion."

Kaz let out an exasperated sigh, "Are you done?"

You and Kaz had known each other for years, the entire time you'd known each other you bantered like this. Kaz would act all irritated and stern, but you knew he silently liked the way you could relieve tension and make even him crack a smile. As the only two Crows born and raised in the farmlands of Kerch, you shared a different connection. You had found each other before The Barrel knew Kaz as the force he was now. Kaz had saved you from Slavers and convinced you to join the Dregs, helping you find a life without fear.

Since then, you followed him through everything, which at this current moment, meant even through the merchant's maze of a mansion. Nina, Matthias and Wylan were somewhere outside, waiting for you, Kaz, Inej and Jesper to get what you were after and meet them. You wondered if they would be growing impatient yet, you were late, which almost never happened on a job with Kaz.

The job had started off as most others, breaking in was always the easy part. You had been privy to Kaz's plans, watching him study a map of the mansion for weeks before he committed to the job. He knew the place like the back of his hand, but he didn't know the extent of the new security measures the merch had introduced.

You and Jesper dawdled behind Inej and Kaz as they led the group through the halls. Occasionally Jesper would pause at a painting or display piece and make comments about its ugliness or stupidity.

The last painting he'd criticized was of an older man, dressed in a bright blue kefta with red embroidery. Jesper had caught your sleeve and pointed it out to you, "Looks like the merch has inferni ancestor."

You had screwed your nose up at the portrait, "I thought he was Kaelish?"

"He is," Kaz said, already at the end of the hall with Inej. He was waiting for the two of you to catch up, like a boy calling his dogs home.

Walking through the mansion felt surreal, mostly because you hadn't been to many places with such decadent displays of wealth. The four of you could move through the hallways unnoticed because the Merch and his family were out at the theatre - or whatever it was rich people did in Ketterdam on Sunday Nights. He had brought most of his guards and men with him, leaving the halls silent and unpatrolled. Kaz had called him an arrogant fool, to declare his mansion impenetrable and then take all his men out to prove it. There was no place able to keep out Dirtyhands, especially not when he had his crows by his side.

Thinking back on it you realized how you all had been too arrogant, thinking this job was in and out, easy. You'd let your guard down - something Kaz warned you to never do in this city - and now you were paying the price.

Everything went wrong when you and Kaz finally found what you were looking for - the merch's family jewel, a sapphire embedded in rich Kealish gold. You had easily broken through the fabrikator-made lock, it might have been made by a Grisha but it couldn't hold up against a Grisha. Especially not one who could melt metal with the same ease as cutting pastry. Kaz had reached for the jewels, as soon as he lifted it off the display the room filled with an ominous hum. Like the sound of a machine slowly whirring to life.

Kaz had pocketed the jewels, grabbing your forearm and tugging you along behind him as he went for the door Jesper and Inej were guarding. Before you could make it metal bars slid down over the doorway. You had tried to use your small science to melt the metal, even Jesper tried to budge it, but nothing worked. Kaz ordered Inej and Jesper to find their own way out as alarms chimed, directing you back through the room to another exit.

You had followed behind him willingly, knowing he knew the way around the mansion. You'd been irritated to learn how wrong you were, Kaz knew the layout of the mansion but the Merch had updated the floorplan. Clearly, another Fabrikator addition to hinder thieves.

"Wait," Kaz held up his hand and you barrelled straight into his back at the sudden halt, "Do you hear that?"

Footsteps.

"Back," Kaz whispered, ushering you back the way you had come.

You got to the end of the hall before you heard more bodies approaching, you were surrounded. Immediately you went to the window, trying to pull at the latch and open it. It didn't work, but you could see light dancing on the tree line.

"Kaz," You called, "Look."

You both squinted into the dark, trying to distinguish who it was in the woods. You saw the glint of steel, like someone was spinning a revolver.

"It's Jesper."

The footsteps were getting louder, there was no way you and Kaz could get out of this on your own.

"Step back," You struck your flint, the sparks allowing you to create a ball of flame. You concentrated it as small as it would allow, pressing your palms against the window until cracks started forming. After a few more seconds the pane shattered, sending the shards falling to the ground below. You were on the second floor, even if you wanted to jump there was no way you and Kaz would be able to land safely. You settled for sending up a burst of flames, Jesper and the others would be on the lookout for it, your SOS symbol.

"Stop!" Someone shouted and all hell broke loose.

You and Kaz fought well side by side, you both knew each other's moves, working in tandem to take down opponents. It looked like you might win for a little while, then a woman rounded the corner with her hands pressed together. Heartrender, you realized it too late.

You were woken suddenly, like your heart was all of a sudden coming back to life. You gasped and spluttered, lungs burning. Your hands were bound above your head, separated by a thick metal rod so that you couldn't summon. Already you could feel the ache in your shoulders, hanging from your arms was something you had been used to when you were a slave. Now, you had to fight back the panic that tried to grip your heart.

You struggled to find your footing for a moment, but eventually managed to stand up enough to take the strain off of your wrists.

Kaz.

Where was Kaz?

"Look, Brekker. Your girls fine."

You squinted to find where the voice was coming from, finding the source across the room. Kaz was standing opposite a burly man nearly a foot taller than him. Kaz's face was bloody and bruised, but he had murder in his eyes. You could see it, feel it, all the way across the room. You realized it wasn't just Kaz and the merchant; the other crows were there too. Inej held a blade against the heartrenders throat from earlier, who had both her hands held far apart to show her cooperation. Jesper was not too far away, his pistols in hand as he stared down a man who stood in between you and him.

What did I miss?

"No harm was done," The merchant continued, his voice thick with a Kaelish accent, "What do you say we part ways, unharmed."

Kaz's face didn't change, "Sure."

The Merchant frowned, a glimpse of fear breaking through his resolve, "I don't like your tone, boy."

"He always sounds like that," Jesper joked, glancing at you.

"He has an asshole voice," You agreed. Not two nights ago you and Jesper had been saying the same thing to Matthias at the Slat. You and Jesper enjoyed teasing the Fjerdan, especially regarding Kaz and his 'demjin' ways.

Kaz looked amused, he had the Merchant in the palm of his hand. "Go. Before I change my mind."

The Merchant almost tripped as he ran away, not even stopping for his Heartrender and right-hand man who followed behind him just as quick.

With the immediate threat gone, you felt your resolve begin to crumble. You had to get out of these chains. They would rub your wrists every time you moved, bringing you straight back to your past.

"Stop moving," An older woman had warned you, "It hurts less."

She was probably right, but you were too terrified to listen. Hours ago you were playing on your family's farm, but now you were chained to the roof in a dark, damp cellar. The chains were rusted and coarse, they rubbed the skin around your wrists raw, leaving cuts and grazes everywhere they pressed.

You were only eight, by far the youngest of all the slaves in the cellar. The chains they used to bind you didn't have cuffs, the slavers had just looped the links around your wrists and locked them tight. All you felt was the pain and the fear. All of this because you were Grisha? You only just learned of your power as an Inferni, how could you be worth anything?

The older woman tried to console you, doing her best to quell your tears and sobs, but even she knew the horrors that awaited you. The horrors you would spend years fighting to escape.

"Y/N," Kaz's voice was soft, he stood in front of you, supporting your weight as Jesper worked on freeing your hands from the chains. "Stay here."

You knew he was trying, you could see his own emotions clawing at him. It was one of the things that bound you and Kaz together, the demons of your past. You understood what it was like to fear touch and he understood what it was like to be betrayed. You helped each other, through the flashbacks and nightmares. You two didn't have anyone else, so you fought to have each other.

When Jesper finally broke through the chains, you lurched forward unexpectedly. Kaz held you tighter, trying to keep you upright even with his bad leg. You stood up, holding your hands out to balance yourself.

'I'm okay," You lied, trying to avoid Jesper and Inej's worried glances, "We should get out of here."

Back at the Slat, you sat staring at your cup of cocoa. Nina had made it for you as her way of trying to help, she could hear that your heartbeat hadn't stopped racing since leaving the job.

Jesper and Wylan had offered you gentle conversation, but you couldn't hold it for long. You had claimed you were tired, bidding your friends goodnight and climbing the stairs to your room. You didn't stop at your floor. Your feet carried you further up the steep stairs, stopping when you reached the attic which Kaz had converted into his own room. You didn't have to knock, you just opened the door and announced yourself.

Behind closed doors, Kaz was less concerned about keeping up his Dirtyhands persona. He smiled ever so slightly as you sat on his bed. A few months ago you had forced him to rearrange his room so that you could see him working while you lounged on his bed. You often ended up like this, watching him work after long days and taking comfort in each other's presence.

This time, Kaz wasn't concerned with his papers, he just looked at you, waiting for you to talk. You had talked Kaz through his own episodes many times, you never pushed him or asked him to move quicker than he was ready. For the first time, Kaz wanted to offer you the same comfort, but he wasn't sure if he could.

You were rubbing your wrists, stuck in your own memories of your time chained.

Kaz slowly joined you, giving you time to pull away. You glanced over at him, watching him as he slowly removed his gloves.

"Kaz-"

Kaz shook his head to silence you, continuing what he was doing. He placed his gloves neatly on the bedside table, turning to you. He reached out slowly and you let him. He gently pried your fingers away from your wrist, taking your hands in his own. He turned your palms up, his fingers slowly ghosting over the scars on your skin.

Kaz could feel the warmth of your skin through his fingertips. It helped him fight off the flashbacks, the warmth reminding him you were safe, healthy, alive.

Kaz's fingers traced over a scar on your right thumb. You couldn't help the small sigh that escaped your lips.

Kaz's head snapped up to look at you, fear filling his eyes.

"I'm okay," You meant it this time. The flashbacks were gone, locked in the vault in the back of your mind.

Kaz could tell that you meant it, see the anxiety leave your face. He drew his hands back, reaching for his gloves again. You smiled at him as he slipped his hands back into them, the leather bringing him the comfort he needed.

Kaz offered you a quiet apology.

"Kaz," You couldn't help the adoring smile on your face, "It's okay."

You knew Kaz could handle contact more when his gloves were on, so you gently took his hand. Kaz watched as you copied his movements from earlier, gently opening up his fingers. You slowly raised his hand, pressing a gentle kiss to his palm.

"I love you," You said, "Gloves and all."

Kaz smiled, a genuine smile that you only saw in the safety of these four walls.

He let out a quiet reply, "I love you too."

[cursecuelebre]

Ancestral Veneration and Why it’s Important

This is going to be a post about a topic that people seem to forget or deem unimportant even fearful about with either good reasons or just never thought about it. I just wanted to mention YOU DO NOT HAVE TO WORK WITH ANCESTORS IN YOUR PRACTICE this blog is mostly for those who are interested in it and not sure what ancestral veneration is.

I’m a pagan and a witch that practices Ancestral veneration in my practice, not around it but it’s definitely a big part of why I practice certain paths. I’ll go in beginner tips, what to expect and the myths, the offerings and the recommendations. But let me go a bit into the importance of Ancestral Veneration and worship in human history since it’s still prevalent today.

Historical importance of Ancestral Worship

Ancestral worship and veneration has been at least one of the oldest religions that humans have ever believed in. Archaeological evidence shows the early humans taking care of their dead and burying them for respect and dignity maybe even courtesy to the deceased. It became sacred to them, imagine back then without fully understanding about the world someone that you spoke and saw now gone, it’s a profound moment one’s life that they must believe that their spirit lives on and they themselves wanted a peaceful resting place. It’s a cycle, many cultures and religions believe that life is a cycle, death is never the “end” rather an end of a journey to a new part of one’s life.

To this day people honor their deceased loved ones, visiting their graves, offering them gifts at their resting places, speaking to them, having their picture on a table surrounded by their favorite flowers, etc. Honoring the dead and respecting the dead is a very revered part of human life and something that we all would like to expect when we’re gone from our living family. Spirits also related or not, the dead as well should be treated with outmost respect and dignity like our ancestors did.

Some cultures like the Romans believed that if the spirits especially ancestral spirits (Lares) weren’t appeased they become angry if worshipped improperly or their will have not be been fulfilled. In Ancient Greek tradition they would place a coin in the mouth for the deceased to make sure their spirits would go into the afterlife safely and less traumatic. Each culture and society had a different way of how the ancestors would live in the afterlife.

Even in the Christian Bible shows the significance of ancestors, there is a reason why genealogies are included in the Bible. How Jewish people revere Abraham as their founding father since he is the first Hebrew patriarch which is very important to them and their religion. How even Jesus is related to David on both sides. Even immediate family is important like Jesus’s mother Holy Mary. In Norse Paganism it’s said that the kings were descend from gods like the Swedish Royal family related to Freyr. In Shintoism it is said that the First Emperor of Japan is related to the Sun Goddess Amaterasu. Japan and other many East Asian countries have a strong relationship and traditions regrading Ancestors.

Why Ancestral Veneration?

Ancestral Veneration is generally taken outside of paganism and witchcraft a very sacred thing for families, they can heal, they can come together, grieve together, reminisce together especially if they knew that person in life. But also asking the deceased loved ones for guidance and protection, to help their family in life whom they love the most. Plus this can help especially if you are into past life regression, we reincarnated with our ancestors many times and they have been able to see us in their time and now. It can be really insightful to understand of who we were in those lives.

Whatever legacy they left behind that you admired from them is continued for generations to come as well as heirlooms, a mother passing down her sentimental items to daughters or their children alike it’s a remembrance of what they were known by as well.

“Cows die, family die, you will die the same way . I know only one thing that never dies: the reputation of the one who’s died.” Havamal, Stanza 77.

If you’re going into paganism or witchcraft or both that are related to your ancestry. Your ancestors are the best teachers and mentors especially if they also have been in these specific practices and traditions. If you want to learn Seidr for instance a magical practice rooted within Scandinavian traditions and you have said Scandinavian roots you can contact a ancestor that practiced it in life and willing to help and teach you. What’s unfortunate about ancestral veneration looking down upon for many centuries making people turn away and against the practice is that it’s said that spirits can become lost if they aren’t being honored or remembered that makes them fade and lost.

Five Myths about Ancestral Veneration and what to expect. This is not going to be sugarcoated, I’m being honest and this what I’ve experienced in my own practice and how many others have experienced as well. I would add on if I forgot anything but these are most common misconceptions I have heard. The red are the myths if you are wondering.

Myth #1: All ancestors on the other side have my best interest and support all what I’m doing This is a common misbelief, now there is ancestors that will support you no matter what and your actions. But if you’re a pagan and a witch there is going to be Christian ancestors who won’t support you at all. Their human spirits with still human functions and beliefs. Not to say you can’t communicate but set your intentions and boundaries before meeting them, some will tolerate and some will make their opinions and beliefs known possibly even try to convince you. I know it sounds like fear mongering but it’s to what you would expect. This doesn’t mean you cannot make contact or venerate them because of it. It’s a choice that is a two way street, even spirits in the other side have freewill just like we do.

Myth #2: All Ancestors are well in spirit No, not exactly, when humans on earth do horrible things or experience horrible things it will take affect in the spirit world no matter what. Keep in mind time works very differently in the other world that it will take centuries for those who are healing to fully recover and those to actually realize their problems, messed up life on earth if they choose to recognize it. Again as I said just humans in the physical world human spirits also have free will and choices.

Myth #3: Only Human spirits are ancestors Nope commonly yes when we think of Ancestors we think of human beings that lived either with us or before us. But this isn’t the case, pets for instance that became our beloved family members and part of our inner circle are our ancestors. My cat that recently passed I had him since I was nine years old, I always thought and treated him like family because of that he merged into my family circle. Also animals can symbols of family, like a bear, an owl, an elephant, etc. that they can be represented as your ancestors as a whole.

Myth #4 : Ancestors are limited to just blood family Also a misconception, close friends and even adopted family members are considered to be close family. Some people won’t have blood relatives in life and find their found family which is just as valid and meaningful like a blood family is. This also goes to if you’re a person that likes to write you might venerate your favorite author, if you like to draw or paint you can venerate an artist that you admired a lot. Your family might have patron saints, deities, or local heroes and spirits that have been part of your family for generations. That’s why it’s nice to know where your family originated from what country, village, city, etc.

Myth #5: No Ancestors of mine did anything wrong Everyone’s ancestors did something horribly wrong in their lifetime, some were messed up people. But there are good ones that aren’t like that anymore, if you want to venerate them that’s up to you and your practice. I personally don’t do it because especially if they did something wrong and have no remorse for it I ain’t venerating none of them.

There is no reason to be afraid.

I know I seemed to be fear mongering in the previous part that’s because I don’t want to sugarcoated of which is most likely to be expected.

The Bottom line when contacting (if you want to have contact with them) and venerating your ancestors is that their no different from a human person in this physical realm. They will have personalities, likes, dislikes, opinions, beliefs like any other human being BUT from my experience a lot of my ancestors are very wise, humorous, kind, and non-judgmental. My advice if you really want to contact someone who is going to be supportive and helpful in your paganism and witchcraft, ask specifically for that person I usually ask for ancient ancestors pre Christian wise but there many folk witches and pagan ancestors that are more modern and recent that can most definitely help you! Speak to them like any other human interaction would be as if you’re talking to a living friend, family member or complete stranger you’re meeting for the first time.

How to Communicate with your ancestors

I have mention “contacting” your ancestors you can speak with them it’s not impossible.

1. Meditation and dream work: Most common and effective way to really get them to communicate you and send signs is through dreams. Meditation for a clear and close connection with them.

2. Tarot: Very common and just as effective, my most recommended first step when communicating with your ancestors. Using a tarot deck can help with putting your foot through the door. There is a great book which will recommend at the of the blog that does ancestral and tarot together.

3. Pendulum and a spirit board: This is more in depth but it has been very effective for me and many others to really connect and communicate with my ancestors. It’s good to state your intentions and boundaries before doing any of said above, but this is where you really need to set it. Before starting grab the pendulum over the board don’t let it swing and say, “I ask of the good and supporting ancestors that have me in good intent and support of my path and practice, I would like to meet you”. Of course you get specific like “I would like to meet an ancient Roman ancestor” that’s just an example of how it would go safely and respectfully.

4. Just talking to them. Yep sounds easy enough, you would just get something that represents ancestors or even a specific ancestor. For instance your grandmother’s rosary and just talk to them or pray to them. It’s a very simple and comforting way to bond with your family.

Offerings

This is going to be a “it depends on the ancestors” but there has been a universal notion of what ancestors do really like. From items, food, drink, etc.

Rosaries for catholic ancestors or the cross for Christian ancestors generally speaking

Pagan symbols for your pagan ancestors

Statues of ancestral gods or saints or other important entities

Sweets: Cookies and cakes are very popular

Alcohol: my Germanic ancestors love it when I offer beer, mead, ale. But also wine and other alcoholic beverages for others.

Regular libations like water, coffee, tea. juice, etc. good substitute if you cannot use alcohol.

Their meals from their home country, my Italian ancestors, recent and ancient love it when I make them pasta.

Incense some cultures call it the food for spirits

Heirlooms

Family photographs

Candles

Coins

Book of the dead, if you meet an ancestor you can record them down into a book that is solely for your family and to be passed down on and on. It’s a memorial service to them that someone knows their name and who they were.

Specific traditions that your ancestors came from for instance libations of wine for your Greek ancestors.

Good ancestral veneration books that personally helped me a lot and I know a lot of others to get started.

Ancestral Tarot by Nancy Hendrickson she helps how to contact and connect with your ancestors and ancestry using tarot

Ancestral Grimoire by Nancy Hendrickson like Ancestral Tarot she goes how to connect with your ancestors but this time how to really work with them. One of the exercises is to work with an ancestor for a month and a different for the next one.

Honoring your Ancestors by Mallorie Vaudoise she gives good information on different ways to connect with your ancestors, the different types of ancestors, she does have a Southern European and Catholic folk magic take to it which is fine but it’s not the sole focus of it but she does put good information in the book to help someone get started. 

Badass Ancestors by Patti Wigington also good beginners guide to ancestral veneration and how to connect through meditations and develop relationships with them even how to deal with problematic ancestors. She goes into how to research your genealogy and useful tips!

[zarnzarn]

"Hello," Penelope says.

The man in her bed smiles, shadowed in shades of blue and white in the moonlight. It is barely the smile she remembers; she can see slivers of the person she used to know shining like gold in rock, buried in layers of muck, and it is not entirely kind. "Hi."

His voice is changed too. Rougher. Haunted. Without repentance.

She shifts, hands trembling with adrenaline as she reaches for the covers, as she pulls it over both of them. Freshly washed and pampered and cleaned, the man in her bed looks much closer to a king, even with the new lines of stress in his face and the lines of grey in his hair that match her own.

They are done crying. Sins confessed, grief passed.

Penelope stares at him, drinking in the sight. Unbidden, the slight tail she'd inherited from her mother starts beating at the bedcovers gently, as if she were a dog, ears flicking as she looks.

The man laughs, as if it escapes him in the face of her foolishness. "Is that for me?"

"I knew you were coming back," Penelope says instead of a reply, grinning manic and smug. She leans closer, lets her weight fall forward, tilts her head with a smirk.

The man huffs a breath. He leans closer with his own bared teeth, wicked grin. "I knew you were waiting."

Penelope preens, full body rolling with delight, a purr in her throat. Twenty years she's waited to hear it, to know that her faith was matched just as violently, that her poor husband never feared for her leaving. To be told she was a good wife, a good mate- but only from the one she wanted to hear it from.

"Am I what you expected then?" The other rumbles suddenly, hair falling across his forehead. His eyes are no longer the clear bluish-grey he left with- they change colors in the light now, blue and brown and dark; but still grey. More dangerous, sharp and ruthless, unwavering. This is a man to be feared. When all the chosen of Troy had all fallen, the gods could not defeat this one man.

Penelope smiles in the way she'd been taught not to, all of her ancestors' razor-sharp canines on display, her emotions writhing with joy and satisfaction in her chest. Her instincts scream for happiness, that her husband had killed so many for her, soaked his hands in blood so he could hold her with them gently. A freshwater nymph's ideal, and he was all hers.

"Yes," She says, because she had expected him to come home heavy with loss and battle, wounded and scarred. "Better," She purrs as she draws him above her, because he does not regret any of it, and the blood-soaked devotion feels divine. He is fearless about killing now, like Penelope always had been, from when her mother first birthed her in the wilds of the untouched rivers to when she'd taken the neighbouring state's farmers hostage for the harvest because they dared to spread rumors about her rule and her son and her husband, just two weeks before.

He chuckles, canting his head to the side when he pushes himself down with a gasp. It is not the bashful, flustered movements of before, where he would hide behind his hair and coax himself down gently upon her- yet even as he slides himself down upon her like a conqueror, like a hardened general and soldier and king, he still smiles that same shy grin when she places a hand on his cheek to tilt him back, and it seems to shine out from every part of him until all the muck falls away, leaving only the person she knows behind, bright and new.

"Odysseus," She breathes. "My husband."

"A monster," He replies, and she can see the depths of guilt and misery and horror in his eyes. Can see the splash marks of ichor that haven't faded across his collarbones and shoulders, the scars that run through him, the ghost of all those who didn't return behind him.

She laughs. "My love," She counters, and watches it all fold away as Odysseus leans forward to meet her smugness, eyes sparking with starved delight. She will glut him upon her love, her joy, so he never regrets anything he did to make it back to her, to reward him for everything he did. She smirks. "Move."

-

Later, he watches her chest rise and fall, face slack in sleep but lips still curled in a smile, unfearing of whose arms she sleeps in.

Next to his wife, he had said, with all the fury he'd ever had, with the determination of knowing he'd fight the Fates themselves to come back to her, that even if it was prophesized that it wouldn't be him to hold her, he'd still spend every inch of him trying anyway. Knowing that wishing in its success meant dooming Penelope to sleep next to a monster.

He huffs, smiling as he presses light kisses to every part of her skin he can reach, greedy, teeth hidden behind his lips.

(They weren't sharp when he left. His eyes never glowed in the dark.)

Penelope smiles suddenly, awake- sharp, white teeth peeking out from her crooked lips. Her eye is slitted when she cracks one open, shining blue in the darkness. She catches his lips with her own when he next passes her and murmurs at him to close his eyes.

His wife may sleep next to a monster. But he sleeps next to one too.

[thewritetofreespeech]

A Whole New World

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: in the wake of all the rats abandoning ship, you ask Aemond to leave King's Landing with you as well. [sort of in the vein of my tv show series?? mostly because I want to keep it seperate from the rest of my HOTD stuff that is more book related. part -X XX XXX]

-------------------------------⚔️--------------------------------

“Let’s leave this place.”

Aemond looked up at you from his table. Maps and plans littering the surface. There were not enough hours in the day to make headway on a plan to attack or thwart Rhaenyra, so they had moved into your bedroom. “We will leave for Harrenhall in a few days’ time.” He told you. “We will be off soon enough.”

“No, I mean leave this place.” You told him. “Leave Westeros.”

Your husband looked shocked at your suggestion. Understandably. “You would have me leave Westeros. Leave my birthright.”

“It is not yours Aemond.” It was a bitter truth, but a truth none the less, and you were the only one that could tell him that without threat of death.

None of this was supposed to be theirs. Aegon nor Aemond. Deep down they all knew that. Knew that Viserys had not wavered in his final moments on who his favorite child was. Who his first and only was. Alicent could have given the former king 100 sons, and it would not have made up for the one he lost with his first wife. “Rhaenyra now has 7 dragons to our 1 with her dragon mongrels taking flight. Besides which her armies.”

“I have Vhagar!” Aemond shouted in anger. Rising to his feet. “The oldest, strongest, largest dragon in all Seven Kingdoms.”

“And a pack of wild dogs can take down a lion if their numbers are great. I am not trying to upset you Aemond, I’m simply following the maths.”

The prince took a deep breath though his nose and turned from you. Annoyed that you were right, but clearly didn’t want to admit it. “You want me to abandon the city, ney? Run away and hide like the rest of those cowards!”

Aegon had left the city, for his own protection. To where, you could not be sure. That may have been by design as many whispered about how Aemond would kill him in his bed if given the chance. You knew he wouldn’t do that; if for nothing else than the simple fact that it would be dishonorable to murder a cripple in their bed unarmed. His mother had been missing for days at a time now. Uninterested in the war efforts since her dismissal from the council. Such was her right, but the fact that she wouldn’t look you in the eye these days did not grant you comfort on what the former Queen was thinking. The rest seemed to slip out under the cover of darkness. Less and less people seemed to be in the castle. The rats saw that the ship was sinking and were abandoning it quickly.

“I don’t want you to ‘run away’ Aemond. I want you to live.”

Aemond huffed and turned from you again. “Better to die in battle then wither in obscurity.”

“And if you die, and Rhaenyra takes the city, what of me then? Die an honorable suicide like the Queens of old? Be a political prisoner here until the Queen forces me to marry one of her bastard heirs as a good will gesture?”

That got Aemond’s attention. The idea that you could die not nearly as infuriating as the thought that one of Rhaenyra’s “strong boys”, or even her Targaryen brood, would touch you. “That would never happen.”

“You’re right. It wouldn’t. Rhaenyra would have to kill me. If not for the simple fact that I would not bend the knee, but also for the fact that I am a charge to her claim.”

Your hand came to rest at your stomach. Still the same, but not for long. Aemond’s eye followed your hand, and his expression turned to shock before you raised his face to look at you with your other hand. “There are more world out there, my love. Across the Narrow Sea. Beyond. We could take Vhagar and make a new kingdom like your ancestors. We don’t have to stay here and fight over this one. We could have so much more.”

Aemond’s gaze dropped from your hold, but he took your hand at his cheek and held it. “You would have me abandon my family? Turn my back on them?”

“Have they not turned their back on you?” They blamed Aemond for everything. As if he put Aegon up on that stage and gave him a crown. You weren’t naïve enough to think your husband was blameless in his actions during this war, but they were looking for a scapegoat at this point and Aemond was the convenient target. “We are each other’s family now. We are all that matters.”

“Daeron….”

“He can come with us.” You felt maddened to the point of tears. You were fond of Daeron, the few times you had met. A sweet boy who was free of this place. Though you would honestly say anything to Aemond at this point to get him to come. “Helaena too, if you wish. We will fly to some far away place like Aegon and his sisters. Just please….please…let us leave this place.”

Aemond seemed to think about it for a long moment, before he gave you his answer and that was the end of it.

In the morning, Vhagar took flight over the city. Whether she went to Harrenhall with her rider or parts unknown, no one could know then. What was sure, as the histories tell us, was that it would be the last time the great dragon, her rider, or his wife ever came back to the city.

[quitealotofsodapop]

Just thinking of Peaches canon hyperfixation of plans and medicine and just... going into a rant whne he visits DBK's place the first time over some rare plant Redaon had cultivated and DBK jsut... standing in the background with a soft smile on his face as he sees his xiandi happy to talk about medicine and plants again and reminiscing on the times he'd talk his ear off when they were kids about the medical properties of various ingredients in the teas they'd make

Oh gosh this idea was cute I had to write out some dialogue for it;

referencing this post I made about catnip/cat plants with lmk characters;

DBK: "I wonder why Brother Azure acted so oddly when i sat next to him at dinner. He didn't drink that much." Wukong, sniffing: "Oh easy! You use Mao Bo He to keep away the flies right?" DBK: "Yes? It's one of few herbs that works for me." Wukong: "Mao Bo He causes mild intoxication and feelings of elation in cats! Lions are just big cats after all." DBK, surprised/amused: "So Brother Azure was drunk off my insect repellent?" Wukong, getting excited: "Yes! In a way! There's some other plants that cause a similar effect but it's different for every individual- oh... sorry." DBK: "For what?" Wukong, nervous: "I've been told I... get too excited when discussing herbs and treatments like that," DBK, smiling: "I have no issue in hearing you describe them. You clearly hold much joy for the subject." Wukong: "You don't think I'm annoying?" DBK: "Not at all. If I had, I would have said so. My ancestor was a herbalist himself after all. Now, tell me xiandi, what can I use to keep the flies away that won't make our proud Brother Azure turn into a kitten at the mere scent of me?" Wukong: (*tail wags happily as he charges up the infodump*)

Later in the Peach Soup au as Peaches is receiving training from DBK.

Peaches: "Oh! Thats a Zhi Zi!" DBK: "Hmm?" Peaches, pointing to a flower in the courtyard: "Gardeniae jasminoides. Sometimes its called a gardenia or a cape jasmine. It shows up in some of my books." DBK, knowing smile: "Really? Red Son collected some plants during his time learning under Guanyin. I had always assumed it to be a regular jasmine plant." Peaches: "That's ok! They look really alike and smell nearly the same! One way to tell them apart is to check the leaves. Smooth leaves mean Jasmine, Toothed leaves mean Gardenia!" DBK: (*fond chuckle!*) Peaches: "Oh sorry! Was I rambling? I apologise if I got a little carried away." DBK: "Not at all! Where did you come across such knowledge by the way?" Peaches, little bashful: "My uncle Sandy introduced me to different tea blends when I was younger, and from there I wanted to know more about plants and herbs and how they help people. I was actually hoping to become a doctor or a pharmacist before all of this... monkey business happened." DBK: "It's never too late to return to your passion. You always wanted to heal people, xiandi. Even back then." Peaches: (*shy smile as he realises what DBK means*)

It leads to a rare moment where Peaches discovers something positive he shares with "old him". Who knew Sun Wukong was a nerd back then too?

DBK is elated to see this side of his little brother live on - Wukong had put aside many dreams due to the War, and herbalism was sadly one of them. Wukong did continue to pursue medicinal knowledge after the fact, but his duty as a king and near-god had kept him anchored.

Peaches has lived 18 years with no such anchor. DBK is excited and cautious to see what path he chooses.

I love these guys so much

[justmystical]

The Forgotten-2

Pairing: Lucifer X Butterfly!fem!reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel x Star vs the forces of evil

Warnings: this takes place before Season 1, Alternative Universe,

One| Two |Three |Navigation

A few months has passed since you met a man under a tree, now knowing his name as Lucifer Morningstar. You instantly became friends with him because of some shared interest.

You always sneak out of the Castle because of this.Loving spending time with your new friend.

Always meeting up under the Apple tree and tell stories about your day. Well sometimes there were day's he didn't show up and you never questioned it , after all he didn't say anything about his life and you didn't tell about yours. Only about neutral things.

Another days ,you just got back from the Earth Dimension and still no sign of your Beloved friend Lucifer.

You sighed

"Princess (Name) Butterfly!" You heard someone call out , you turned around to see Glossaryck and felt sweat drip down on your face.

"hey Glossaryck"you smiled awkwardly and did gunfingers to him. You didn't attend your lessons today and ran away to meet up with Lucifer unfortunately he wasn't there.

"running away are we Your Highness? learning magic is important as Princess of Mewni blah blah"he said but the end you felt your ears shut down to see your sister and you heard Glossaryck sigh

"Eclipsa!"you said running and waving hand to her as Glossaryck,She smiled when she spotted you.

"hello (Name)"You smile faltered, Your sister doesn't call you by your name,only your Nickname that was given to you by your Father.

"My Queen"Glossaryck bowed

"ahh Glossaryck can you give some privacy for a moment?"he looked at you with hesitation "Don't worry Glossaryck I won't run off somewhere " you explained and he sighed but nodded.

As Glossaryck left ,you and your sister were alone in the hallway.

"ok,tell me what got you down?"you saw a her having an inner battle in her head.

"what do you mean (Name)?"she asked faking her confusion.

"Eclipse, I'm your Little sister and one of your closest friends . infact your only friend so , i know when something upsets you" You told her and she bit her lip. You waited patiently for answer.

"well umm , it's just that..."she hesitated "as you know our family has the tradition to pass the wand down to an heir and-"

"YOUR PREGNANT?!?"You cut her off and saw her laughed.

"heaven's no! But the people were wondering when will there be introduce to another Princess in the Palace..."

"A new heir...?"you questioned

"wait with Shastacan?"you saw her face pale.

"SHASTACAN?!"

"well who else would be..."

"uhh, he's such a narcissist!" You ranted about how bad her Husband is and Eclipsa face grew paler than before.

You noticed this and stopped "Sorry Eclipse..."you felt bad for her she didn't even want to marry Shastacan but it was your mother's dying wish.

After that, you were about to go Glossaryck for your lessons but you passed a familiar room.

The Rooms of Queen Tapestry.. eh you didn't really know what this was room was called.

You walked in, seeing all of your ancestors and you uncle,your uncle became king when you mother died. Since you and Eclipsa are still very young,he took over for awhile. Next to his was...

Your Mother.. Solaria the Monster Carver.

You did miss you mother Truly, you didn't even felt Keekee transform and now she was comforting you.

"mother, hopefully you had a good reason for Eclipse to marry Shastacan,right?"you told her but no one answered.

You felt bad when you found out about this dying wish of your mother. You knew Eclipsa was inlove with someone else but didn't know who?

You wanted your sister to marry and have children with someone she loves, not someone who she was forced with. You walked around to see your sister's Tapestry about to be begin.

A Lot of people were confused of why it hasn't even begun yet when Eclipsa became Queen. You eyes widened as it as being made.

Does this mean Eclipsa's fate has been written?

Keekee followed you as you meet up with Glossaryck, you were learning some spells and read about a butterfly form.

"i thought we we're done with that mewberty butterfly form ?" You asked.

"that is , well how do i explain this to...ehh basically different from Mewberty and it's more powerful when you are in this form" Glossaryck explained.

More powerful?

Can only unlock in time of need?

You feel like this could help you defend your sister from monsters."I'll keep you safe Eclipse..."you muttered

"huh?"

"nothing!"

After another day you snuck out and went back to earth.

And finally you saw him

"Lucifer Morningstar! Where have you been?!"he heard you and flinched.

"hey n/n"he smiled awkwardly as you walked to him with arms crossed on your chest.

"okay before you kill me..."he said grabbing something from his bag and it was a...

Duck?

"i was making this for you,i made it to looked like you a little also putting some details like the marks on your cheeks-" you cut him off with a hug.

"thanks Luci"he was stunned and now very red.

"y-your w-welcome"he stutter and tried to hides his blushing face from you.

"are you blushing?"

"am not"

"yes you are~"

"stop~"

"hehe"

A/n: sorry if its short , and has little Lucifer content but don't worry in the future 🥹