#full moon over freedom

[laf-outloud]

@angelinamlo When I started writing FULL MOON OVER FREEDOM, I took seriously the fact that this book was going to include my first Mexican-American hero. I wanted him to be dark like my dad was; I wanted his indigenous roots to be apparent just like they are in my family. It was difficult to find a working actor to model him after.

Thankfully, I discovered the wildly handsome and kind Justin Johnson Cortez @justinj_cortez. Justin, an actor, director, and writer starring in “Walker: Independence”, is my physical inspiration for Nicky Mendoza, my bad-boy-turned-artist who’s secretly pined for the once-perfect Gillian “Juliana” Armstead-Bancroft most of his life.

The first time I included Justin in an IG Story, I got a message from his lovely wife. Justin had sent her the notification because she’d been in the middle of reading AFTER HOURS ON MILAGRO STREET!!!!!!!

The world truly is that small.

Now that FULL MOON OVER FREEDOM is making its way into the world, I hope to do both this lovely man who allowed me to use him as a muse and his lovely wife who’s been in full support justice. Click the link in bio then FULL MOON OVER FREEDOM to learn more and preorder!

Well, who can blame the author! I mean... he is quite the specimen! It's lovely to hear he's her muse, and also to hear that Rachel and Justin are completely supportive!

[sarahmaclean]

Angelina M. Lopez's After Hours on Milagro Street was one of my favorite books of last year, and her upcoming Full Moon Over Freedom was one of my most anticipated reads of this year. This series is one part small town romance, one part magical realism, one part absolute FIRE…I’m wild about her heroines, who are women who have to reconcile frustration and anger and big feelings before they win their happily ever afters, and this book is a fresh, modern banger.

[browneyesandhair]

Okay I just inhaled this book. It was so lovely and wonderful. Basically if you’re looking for a romance with a dash of magic thrown in this is for you. It’s a second chance romance with a single mom on the heels of a divorce and her former best friend who is an artist. They come together on a project to revitalize the community.

[wineanddineloseyourmind]

the disappointment with my human body is strong tonight.

[theloyalpin]

my mom leaves tomorrow 🤭

[homunculus-argument]

Zombie/other post-apocalyptic story character concept: The unsettling optimist.

The protagonists of this story encounter an oddly formal loner who seems creepily happy-go-lucky to be wandering alone out there all alone, and assume that this poor fellow is just flat-out insane. A lot of people lost their minds when the world collapsed. An argument is had about whether they can spare the resources to take in somebody who might be a liability, but eventually a consensus is reached that if this mf has been surviving just fine all by themselves so far, surely they're not completely off their roller.

Besides, they don't seem to be out of touch with reality, just... Weirdly cheerful about it. Like wandering around a zombie-infested wasteland is the best thing that ever happened to them. Like it's a privilege to get to eat questionable canned food, to wander from half-collapsed building to another, to argue about where the group is supposed to be going. Like it's a pleasure to be there, and they don't mean it with sarcasm.

And one time when they manage to kill an animal for food, the newcomer volunteers to butcher it like that's a totally normal task that they're used to doing. And working with sure hands and a casual smile, they offhandedly remark how interestingly different it feels to butcher an animal. Full record scratch when everyone within earshot pauses to process what the fuck they just said. How exactly is someone who's clearly that familiar with taking apart meat from bones unaccustomed to butchering animals?

Well, you know how every post-apocalyptic/zombie story seems to have that one place that seems like a clean and tidy wonderful utopia on the surface, but turns out that they're cannibals that eat people? Yeah, that guy is from there. Escaped from there, in fact, and not long before the protagonists found them. And the reason why they've been over the moon about getting to be a part of the whole post-apocalyptic roving band of survivors is the freedom. They get to choose what miserable cans to eat, what miserable ruins to sleep in for the night, what hopeless direction they will miserably trek. And the zombies? The zombies are the best part.

Imagine the joy and luxury of knowing for sure for the first time, that there is absolutely zero overlap between the people who form the community that you rely on to survive, and the people who will kill and eat you if you make one single mistake.

[wholoveseggs]

Small Victories

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Daemon Targaryen X Reader} After a tourney in which Daemon places second, he seeks solace from his loss and finds it in his little northern maid.

♡♡ Hello darlings! I'm branching out slightly and writing about a new character {Don't worry, I'm still writing Elijah} xoxo ♡♡

5.3k words - Warnings: smutt, size!kink, rough sex, dom!daemon, slight choking, virgin!reader, northern!reader, servant!reader, pre-dance Daemon, huge power imbalance...

♡♡ Hey! I didn't tag anyone because I'm unsure if you want to read Daemon content. If you wish to be tagged in future Daemon let me know ♡♡

You didn't like the Red Keep, it was too grand for your liking. Even with all of the people in it you still felt alone. At night, you could hear voices echoing throughout the halls, sometimes they were singing or laughing and other times they were screaming or moaning.

You could never tell where the sounds were coming from, it gave the place an odd feeling of being haunted. Ghosts weren't something you put your faith in, but that didn't stop the hair from standing up on the back of your neck whenever you heard a strange sound.

If it was up to you, you wouldn't live here. You would be back in the little cottage you grew up in, far into the north and as far away from King's landing as you could possibly be. It was a funny contradiction, that such a grand place in a warm environment could feel so cold, while a small house in the cold north could feel so full of warmth.

The last thing your mother said to you, was that you should be grateful. That your place in the Red Keep was the highest honor your family could ever hope to receive, and that you should do anything to stay here. To be a lady's maid to the queen, was the highest achievement a low born could achieve.

You tried to be, even though your heart yearned for the snowy landscape of your childhood. You wanted to be happy, you were thankful, but you couldn't help the way you missed the north.

So to try and capture just a bit of personal freedom, you would walk the halls at night. It was the only time you could pretend to be somewhere else, even if it was only for a moment. You would close your eyes and imagine yourself somewhere new and exciting, and when you opened them you would be reminded of where you really were.

Tonight you were in a particularly adventurous mood, there was a tourney the next day for Prince Viserys and his wife Aemma to celebrate their wedding. The Red Keep would be full of guests and it would be loud and full of life, you were sure to be very busy, and so you decided to stay up late and postpone sleep for a few more hours.

There was a room in the library that had a view of the city, one you liked to frequent often. It had a large window and a balcony that was rarely used. It was a nice place to go to clear your mind and think about home.

When you entered, nobody was around except for a cat that was perched on the windowsill. She was a lovely thing with black fur and bright green eyes, the perfect color of a dark forest at night.

"Hello, beautiful." You greeted her with a smile and a light stroke along her back. You looked out the window with her at your side, watching the moon reflect off the ocean and the waves crashing against the shore.

The sound of footsteps behind you made you look over your shoulder, your eyes landing on a man with a face that made you stand up straight and bow your head.

"Prince Daemon." You greeted him, not looking up from the floor.

"Young maidens like yourself shouldn't be out so late." He said, stepping closer to you. You didn't dare move or even breathe, his presence made you feel like you were caught doing something wrong.

"I couldn't sleep, my lord," You answered, not meeting his eyes. This was your first real meeting with the prince, but you knew the rumors that surrounded him.

He didn't respond to your answer, instead, he turned his attention towards the view. Leaning against the window, his posture was dismissive, as though you weren't there. He gave you a side glance that read, 'leave,' and so you did, not wanting to get in his way.

"I apologize, I didn't mean to intrude." You said, walking past him, heading towards the doorway.

"You are from the north," he spoke, still looking out into the water.

"Yes, my lord," You answered, stopping when he started speaking.

"How did you find yourself as a maid in the south?" He asked, looking at you, his eyes piercing through you.

The truth of the matter made you feel shameful, even though it was beyond your control. So you decided to tell him what you've been telling everyone.

"I was given as a gift for our new queen," You said, looking down at the floor.

"Is that what they call it?" Daemon laughed, his laugh was as harsh as his voice, the kind of laugh that could cut you open if you let it. "I heard you were given away as payment for a debt."

Your cheeks reddened and you looked at the ground, your throat closing up at the mention of your family's failure. Pride wasn't something you could afford anymore, but you couldn't stop the words that came out of your mouth.

"I didn't realize that princes were so fond of gossip." You said, meeting his eyes, your words were meant to cut, and they did.

He stood up straight, his expression unreadable as he closed the distance between the two of you, towering over you.

"Ahh, so they did sell you." He smirked, looking down at you. "Whoring can make you better coin… recover a debt quicker."

Your hands balled up into fists and you took a step closer, a defiant glare on your face.

He chuckled and tilted his head, he reached out and touched your chin, his hand was soft but firm as he turned your face to look at him.

"With a pretty face like yours, I'm sure you would make quite a bit of coin," His voice was a purr, a seductive growl that made your insides feel tight. "I could show you a better use for those lips."

His words were shockingly vulgar, his voice was rough and commanding and his eyes were hungry, but you didn't move away, you stayed still. You knew the dragon prince was a scandalous man, but you didn't think he would ever be so bold.

"There is no honor in a whore's coin." You answered, pushing his hand away from your face.

"Is there honor in emptying the queen's chamber pot?" He retorted, grinning slightly at how red your cheeks had become.

"Not all of us have the opportunity to choose what sort of honor we can acquire,” You said, standing your ground as best as you could.

He towered over you, his tall frame casting a shadow that almost completely covered you. He wasn't like the king or queen, who were kind and generous. There was something dark and malicious about him, as though the great beasts of his house lurked just below his skin, waiting to come out.

"You have a smart mouth, little northerner." He mused, his eyes drifting down to your lips. "It's a wonder that the queen has not put a gag in it."

"It's a poor quality I have yet to overcome." You responded, pulling away from him and putting some distance between the two of you.

He watched you move away, his eyes following your movements and the shape of your body, making you feel hot.

"I will think of you when I win the tourney tomorrow." He said, his tone smug and confident. "A sweet northern flower to bring back with me."

"You will be bringing back nothing, prince Daemon." You said, your voice a warning.

He laughed and looked at you, his eyes dancing with mischief.

"We'll see about that."

And with those final words, he left the room. You felt flustered and annoyed, a strange mixture of feelings that confused and angered you. You didn't like the prince, but he made your heart race, his voice and his eyes made you feel a strange sense of heat.

You wanted to be disgusted, and yet all you could think about was seeing him again.

It was a hectic morning, with all the knights and guests arriving, and you were late. Your tardiness had earned you a sharp reprimand from your head maid, but you were too distracted by the upcoming event to care.

The prospect of seeing the prince again was something you weren't sure you wanted, but couldn't stop thinking about.

You didn't like the way his eyes lingered on you, or how he made you feel things that shouldn't be felt. The rogue prince was indeed a fitting title, he was a scoundrel and a liar, a man of dishonor.

You thought that maybe he was the sort of person that the south created, perhaps they took people like you and turned them into someone like him. But then again, he wasn't really a southerner, no, he was a dragon.

The sound of cheers and laughter outside made your ears perk up. The queen was already seated with the other royals in their viewing box, and you were in a nearby tent, preparing more wine and food.

The tourney had just begun, and so far the knights had all performed well. You had only been paying a bit of attention, trying to do your job and keep out of the way.

The head maid was a cruel, vindictive woman, and she had been taking out her frustration on you all day. Her temper was short and her hands were rough, she was the kind of woman that would slap your hands or pull your hair if she was upset. But today she decided to simply make your life miserable with her words.

She gave you the worst jobs and the heaviest items to carry, and when she did allow you to stand and rest, she would hit your feet with her broom and tell you to get back to work.

"Once you are finished pouring wine, I want you to go to the prince's tent and serve him." She ordered, her eyes were sharp and her words were harsh.

"The prince has a squire to serve him." You protested, the idea of facing Daemon again made your cheeks turn red.

"The prince requested a woman's company,” She smiled, her eyes looking at you with an almost wicked satisfaction.

"I believe what the prince is looking for can be found on the street of silk, not among the ladies maids." You countered, hoping to change her mind.

"It's an honor to serve the prince, and he has specifically asked for a northern girl." The head maid was adamant, not willing to let this go.

You clenched your jaw and took a deep breath, biting your tongue as you looked at the floor.

"Very well, madam."

You held back tears as you climbed the stairs to the viewing box, pouring wine into the cups. Keeping your eyes low and only lifting them when absolutely necessary as you made your way down the line of royals.

Everyone began to stir and chat as the final round was announced. You turned to face the arena, watching as the prince mounted his horse, the sight of him made your heart flutter.

He was a handsome man, there was no denying that, his long blonde hair was braided and tied back, and his purple eyes were focused and determined.

His horse was a massive stallion, black as night, and he rode him as though they were one. He moved with a grace and confidence that was captivating.

The final round began, the two men charging at each other. You were nervous and excited, not knowing what to expect.

The clash of steel was the only sound in the air, it echoed throughout the entire arena. The crowd was silent, their eyes locked on the scene before them.

The two men passed each other, once, twice, three times. The tension building with each near miss, until finally the two knights clashed again.

Daemon's opponent had a slight edge over him, being bigger and stronger, but Daemon was quicker. But on the fourth pass, his opponent managed to catch him off guard, sending him flying into the dirt.

The crowd gasped, their hands covering their mouths as the prince's horse bucked and ran, leaving him in the dust.

You winced at the sight, it wasn't a good fall. He landed on his back, hard, and he lay still for a moment, his eyes squeezed shut as he caught his breath.

Only when the head maid cleared her throat did you realize you had been holding your breath.

"You are needed in the prince's tent, girl." she commanded, grabbing the jug from your hands and giving you a stern look.

You nodded, taking the tray of food and wine from the table and heading out of the box. Your heart was racing and your palms were sweaty, the thought of seeing Daemon after such a public humiliation was not something you were looking forward to.

The air was alive with the roar of the people, and the thumping of their feet sounded like thunder. They were chanting for the champion, something that would surely upset Daemon even more.

When you got to his tent, you hesitated, taking a moment to calm your nerves. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, letting the noise of the crowd fade away.

You stepped inside, finding him sitting in a chair, his shirt was off and his squire was cleaning a nasty gash on his arm.

"I'm sorry for intruding, Prince Daemon." You said, placing the tray of food on the table and pouring a cup of wine.

"Leave," he barked at his squire, his voice was gruff and his jaw was clenched.

"But my prince-" his squire protested, looking up from the wound he was treating.

"Now."

The boy left quickly, leaving you alone with the brooding prince.

"Would you like some wine, my lord?" You asked, your voice soft and timid, the last thing you wanted was to make him even more upset.

"No," he hissed, his voice sharp as a knife. "Bring me a new shirt."

You did as he asked, walking over to the large chest in the corner. It was full of clothes, the colors and fabrics were fine and beautiful. You selected a clean white shirt and brought it over to him, your eyes focused on the ground.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice was quiet, but it was a demand, not a request.

You lifted your eyes, meeting his gaze. His eyes were cold, the same shade of violet that had captivated you was now a glare.

You did very well, my lord," You tried to reassure him, your voice soft and comforting.

"Is that meant to be comforting?" He asked, his tone was harsh and his expression was a scowl.

"Fine. I have never seen a worse display than the one you put on today," you said, the words slipping from your mouth before you could stop them.

He smiled, then laughed, his shoulders shaking as his amusement grew. Only his brother the king would ever talk to him this way, and here you were, a young low born northerner, mocking him. He didn't know why he enjoyed it coming from you, perhaps it was because your words meant nothing. You were no one, and he was the prince, and yet he found himself intrigued.

"That was quite a show, wasn't it?" He chuckled, the sound was hollow, not at all humorous.

"It was humiliating," you answered, the words escaping before you could stop them.

"Careful," he warned, his eyes narrowing. "You're lucky I find your insolence amusing."

"I thought it was why you had asked for me," you retorted, setting the shirt on the table and taking a step back.

He stood up from the chair, closing the space between the two of you. The air was thick with tension, his eyes boring into yours, his face was inches from yours.

"I didn't lose the tourney," he stated, his voice a low growl.

"You didn't win either," you countered, your cheeks flushed red, your heart racing in your chest.

He smiled, the gesture was almost predatory, he reached out and grabbed your face, his hands were rough and his grip was tight.

"You are quite the mouthy little wench," his words were a harsh whisper, his breath hot against your skin.

You didn't answer, afraid of what he would do if you spoke. He seemed to be enjoying himself, his eyes dancing with amusement as he stared at you.

"On your knees," he ordered, his tone demanding.

"My lord, I-" you protested, trying to pull away.

"Kneel," his voice was louder this time, and you knew that he was not going to repeat himself.

You hesitated for a moment, but he was the prince, and you couldn't disobey him. So you lowered yourself onto your knees, looking up at him, waiting for him to tell you what to do next.

"Is it true that northern girls can take a cock better than southern ones?" He asked, his hand still holding onto your chin.

You didn't know how to respond, his words making your cheeks burn. You could only stare at him, your mind reeling as you tried to figure out what he wanted.

He smiled, and the look in his eyes made your heart race. "Open your mouth, little northerner."

You did as he commanded, your eyes never leaving his. He pushed his thumb past your lips and slowly pressed down onto your tongue, rubbing it in circles before slowly dragging it out.

Your lips parted and your breathing became heavier as he traced his wet thumb across your bottom lip, his eyes fixated on the movement.

"Beautiful." He whispered before sliding his thumb back into your mouth, pushing it all the way into your throat, causing you to gag.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth and wiped the spit off on your cheek before grabbing you by the arms and lifting you up, turning you around and pushing you face first into the table.

"My lord," you gasped, struggling against his strong grip.

Daemon laughed at the look of shock on your face, his cock growing harder at the sight. "See? I knew you would make a great whore," he smirked, his words bringing a flush to your face.

He pulled your dress up, exposing your ass and legs. His hands were rough as he groped you, squeezing your thighs and your cheeks.

You pushed against him, trying to free yourself, but his grip was too strong. He pushed your thighs apart, his hand trailing up to your cunt, his fingers stroking your entrance, teasing you.

He softened at your defiance, a smirk crossing his lips. "I enjoy you, little northerner. Perhaps I should keep you," he mused.

He slid his finger into your cunt, his touch gentle and slow. You whimpered, pushing against him again.

"You would be my little northern flower," he murmured, his finger moving in and out of your cunt, the pace becoming quicker. "A blue rose in my garden."

You were ashamed of how aroused you were, the prince's touch was intoxicating, and you couldn't stop yourself from grinding your hips against his hand. You had never been with a man before and the pleasure he was giving you was beyond anything you had ever felt.

He slid another finger inside of you, his movements quick and rough. You moaned, biting your lip as you felt yourself getting closer to release.

He suddenly pulled away, the sudden absence of his touch made you whimper. He spun you around, knocking objects off the table and pinning you against it. Your hands went to his chest, pushing him back, but his grip was too strong, his eyes filled with lust.

"You're a feisty one," he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands gripping your ass, lifting you up and pressing you against his hips. "I guess it's true that the fires always burn hotter in the north,"

You shivered as he sucked and bit at the skin on your neck, his teeth scraping across your sensitive flesh, leaving red marks behind. You couldn't help but moan, the feeling was so intense, and the sounds were so sinful.

"My prince... I..." You stuttered, trying to find the words, but he cut you off with a kiss.

The feel of his hands on your body, his lips on yours, his cock hard against you, was intoxicating. You had never felt this way before, this desire, this want. He made you feel like you were drowning in the fire of his touch. He was a dragon, and he would take what he wanted.

You couldn't resist, you gave in, kissing him back, letting his tongue explore your mouth. He smelled of blood, dirt and sweat, a combination that shouldn't have been appealing, but was.

You could taste his lust on your lips, and it made you hungry for more. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pressing yourself closer to him, and he moaned, the sound rumbling in his chest. He was so much larger than you, so much stronger, and you felt so small in his arms.

His hand trailed down your chest, slowly untying the strings that held up your dress, his fingers tracing over the fabric, teasing you.

"Sweet little northern girl," he teased, his voice a low growl. "Are you going to give yourself to me?"

"Yes," you whispered, your cheeks flushed pink.

He kissed you again, his lips rough and demanding, his hand pushing your dress down, exposing your breasts. "You've never touched yourself before, have you?”

"No, my Prince," you whispered, your little hands curled into his chest, your nails digging into his skin.

"That's alright, I'll show you how it's done."

His hands slid down to your thighs, his fingers trailing up, his touch light and teasing. You let out a gasp as his fingers brushed over your cunt, touching a spot that made your body tremble.

"This little spot right here," he said, rubbing his thumb against it, "is the most sensitive part of your body. The more pressure, the better."

You nodded, gasping and moaning as he pressed his thumb against it, circling it. You could feel the heat rising within you, the pleasure building.

"Feels good doesn't it?" He whispered, his voice husky, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Y-yes," you stuttered, your hips moving, grinding against his hand.

He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

"Do you like being my little whore, hmm?" He asked, his lips trailing down your neck, his kisses hot and wet.

"N-no," you moaned, pushing him back, trying to fight against him.

He laughed, his teeth nipping at your collarbone. "Liar," he whispered, his tongue licking over the marks he'd made.

His hands reaching down to his waist, undoing his breeches and pulling them off, his cock springing free. You gasped, your eyes wide as you took in the size of him.

He took your hand and placed it on his cock, his eyes burning into yours. "Go on, feel it," he whispered.

Your fingers curled around his cock, your small hand barely able to fit around him. You moved your hand, sliding it down the length of his shaft, his cock thick and pulsing in your hand. His skin was so warm and smooth, his breathing deepening as you began to move your hand up and down, stroking him slowly.

You could see the scars from battle stretched across his chest and torso. Small claw-like marks around his pectoral and a deep line that stretched down the left side of his rib cage. He was a hardened warrior, and you could tell by his scars, he had been through much to get where he was now.

You squeezed his cock, moving your hand up and down, his breathing deepening and his eyes growing hazy. He watched you, his gaze following every movement you made. You were starting to get more comfortable, taking pleasure in watching him, in making him feel good. You found the nerve to press the pad of your thumb against the tip, feeling the moisture leaking from him.

"Good girl," he praised, his voice low and husky.

You felt a wave of pride, knowing that you were pleasing him, that he liked the way you were touching him. You continued to stroke him, squeezing and pulling at his cock, watching his face, seeing the pleasure on his features.

He groaned, his eyes closing and his head tilting back, his breath catching. You could feel his cock throbbing in your hand, and you knew that he was getting close.

He let out a low growl and grabbed your wrist, halting your movements. "If you keep that up, I'm going to spill my seed all over this pretty little dress of yours," he said, his eyes full of heat.

"Is that so, my lord?" You asked, unable to hide the hint of amusement in your voice.

He grabbed your hips and pulled you under him, his body caging you, trapping you beneath him. He was breathing hard, his face flushed, his cock hard and resting on your stomach. His eyes burned into yours, his gaze intense, his hands gripping your hips, holding you steady.

You weren't talking back anymore, he could see the fear in your eyes, the hesitance, and that only made him want you more. His hand went to your throat, applying gentle pressure, a silent warning.

He could feel you trembling beneath him, and he tightened his grip, a primal, possessive urge rising within him. Your small hands pushing into his chest, clutching at his heated flesh.

"Open for me," he growled, his eyes fixed on yours.

You parted your thighs, allowing him to press closer to you. He growled, lifting your legs and wrapping them around his waist, his cock brushing against your cunt. He felt you tighten, your eyes widening with trepidation.

He chuckled, loving how terrified and eager you were at the same time. He gave you a moment, and then he slowly pushed into you. You whimpered, your nails digging into his back, your eyes closed, your face twisted in pain.

"Breathe," he said, rubbing his thumb against your cheek, "it will hurt for a just moment and then I will make you feel good,"

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you felt his cock hit your maidenhead.

"Are you ready, little northerner?" He whispered.

You gripped his forearms and nodded.

He pushed in slowly, breaking through your barrier. You cried out, the pain was intense and immediate. He groaned, the feel of your tight cunt was intoxicating.

He stayed still, giving you time to adjust. Your nails dug into his arms, leaving deep scratches in his flesh.

"Such a pretty, tight little cunt," he growled, nipping at your neck.

You kept your eyes closed, trying to focus on his words and not the pain. He began to move with slow, deep strokes, his cock stretching you, filling you. He was bigger than he felt in your hands, and you swore you could feel him everywhere.

He moaned, his hips rocking into you, his hand still on your throat, making you feel lightheaded. You looked up at him with wide eyes, your lips parted, your cheeks flushed. You felt so full of him, stretched open, the pain and pleasure mixing into one.

He watched your reaction with a smirk, amused by your shocked, satisfied expression. He was moving slowly, enjoying your warmth and the feel of your cunt clenching around him. He knew you were enjoying it, too, your eyes half-closed, a soft moan escaping your lip. Your small frame was arched to his body, your hands holding on to his neck.

You were surprised at his gentleness. You'd heard that the dragon prince liked to rough up women, but he was being as careful as if you were made of spun sugar. You felt so small and helpless underneath him, his large body nearly engulfing yours, and yet he wasn't hurting you. His touch was delicate, reverent. The way he spoke to you, calling you pet names, made your heart skip a beat.

You arched against him, a soft cry leaving your lips as his strokes got faster, deeper, hitting a place inside you that sent a sharp, hot pleasure through you.

"Does my little northerner like her prince's cock?" He said, a laugh in his voice, he began to pick up the pace, pounding into you.

You squeaked and pushed on his chest, the sensations becoming too much. He grabbed your hips and held you still, fucking you hard and fast, his eyes full of fire.

You felt your release rising up inside you, the tension in your body winding tighter and tighter. You could feel yourself clamping down on his cock, the pleasure almost too much, the sweet pain sending you over the edge.

He groaned at the sight of you coming undone, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you shattered around him. He could feel the tension in your muscles as your climax tore through you. He slowed his movements, easing out the last waves of pleasure, drawing it out until you were a shuddering, moaning mess.

He was close behind, his thrusts erratic, his breathing harsh. He pulled out and spilled his seed across your stomach, his hips bucking. He pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, a contented sigh leaving his lips. At least he had one victory today.

Your face was hot with shame, your mind unable to comprehend what just happened. The prince's seed was cooling on your stomach and chest, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. Your hands went to your face, covering it as tears came to your eyes, you had never felt so good and so embarrassed at once.

He moved off of you, his eyes locked on yours, a smirk crossing his lips. He looked satisfied, his gaze wandering over your body, lingering on the wetness between your legs, the mess he'd made of you. He tossed you a cloth to clean yourself with. You wiped his seed off your skin, watching him dress, his blonde hair still braided back, his purple eyes full of lust and desire. He was a warrior, a dragon, he was beauty and strength, power and masculinity. He was everything you wanted and feared, a beast who could destroy you.

He gave you a side glance, his eyes full of amusement. "You may go," he said, shooing you away with a hand.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, as you took a shaky breath. You stood up, gathering the pieces of your dress and your underclothes. Your legs were wobbly, and you felt weak, sore, and full of shame.

"Yes, my prince," you said quietly, looking at the floor, unable to meet his eyes.

He chuckled, the sound of his voice making you shiver. "Don't be so timid, little northerner. This is the beginning, not the end," he said, his words sending a jolt of fear and excitement through you.

He was right, this was only the beginning. You were his servant, and he could do with you as he pleased. He would have you come to him whenever he chose, on the warmest summer nights and the coldest winter days. He would take what he wanted, when he wanted.

He was a dragon, and his will was as strong as his blood.

And deep down, you knew you would enjoy it. He was the perfect thing to distract you from the mundanity of your life, the endless monotony of serving others.

Perhaps the Red Keep wouldn't be so terrible, not if it meant serving him.

[astroismypassion]

Astrology observations 🌊🐟🌊

Credit: @astroismypassion

🌊 Cancer Sun men (some other Cancer placement can be that as well like Cancer Venus, Cancer Mercury) are I noticed veryy indecisive. But they are masking that indeciveness behind “oh I just haven’t met the right person for me yet”. As partners they tend to get lazy, more controlling with time, but paint a very very almost this ideal picture in the beginning. You might not be able to find anything bad, because they seems so ideal on paper. They could be cheap too. They also dislike paying, prefer to split 50/50, but make sure that they are spending LESS than you, so they still feel taken care of. They pay only what is theirs and if something is shared between both of you, they expect you to take care of it.

🐟 A lot of Taurus Sun people are gym/workout freaks secretly, but can be inconsistent with it, so you might never openly know this about them.

🌊 I find it’s a slight, small and funny difference between Scorpio Moon and Scorpio over the 4th house native. Scorpio Moon is so secretive, private and doesn’t disclose information easily. You might be their best friend, but still don’t know their family situation to the full extent. But with Scorpio over the 4th house I noticed can kind of be oversharers?? It’s harder for them to keep a secret and when they vibe with someone in a nice conversation, they end up overspilling information.

🐟 Your partner can be a mix of your Juno, Jupiter and sign over 1st, 4th and 7th house. 1st house because there could be found people that are so “in your face”, because you were literally meant to meet them in this lifetime, 4th house is people you introduce to your parents, take home and 7th house are people that are similar to you, yet different enough that you feel they complete you and that you can learn from them.

🌊 Your IC sign shows some of the deepest parts of you that have been instilled in you and have been in your family for generations and generations. It is also what you know best, what already comes to you naturally. For example: Aries IC you are unafraid of conflict, you are not scared to be confrontational.

🐟 I noticed Taurus over the 12th house or Taurus Lilith are more prone of wanting to steal something material from you, like a material item, if they feel you hurt them emotionally. Watch out for Taurus Lilith especially, because they feel like they are never abundant enough, I noticed there is something missing when they are around you, like you might start missing your umbrella or something little and mundane.

🌊 I still think about 8th house Synastry that usually both people need to change. So it’s not about pointing fingers that planet person or house person. It’s usually not enough just one doing the changes and the other not, for the connection to run more smoothly.

🐟 I noticed Composite Libra Rising couples really struggle with other people. Usually the only conflict these two have is about other people. You might not even complain about each other, but when there is tension, it is about other people. Like your/their friends, how much time they are spending with certain other people.

🌊 Composite 1st house shows the things you liked about each other in the beginning, but these are the very same things that you resent with time or dislike later on and complain about. For example: Composite Aquarius Rising: you will like that you are still able to be with them and chase your dream goals, you like that you still are able to have your independent life besides them, that they give you enough freedom and personal space. But later you will start noticing that you “drifted apart/didn’t take enough time for each other”.

🐟 Taurus Venus natives really crave a partner that pays for them. But I noticed once they get older, it reverses from what I’ve seen? They are usually the one getting taken advantage of and paying eveything or a lot of the things for their partner.

🌊 Venus in the 8th house in Synastry chart gives energy of “We are not in a partnership, but I also don’t like you trying to date other people”. 😅

🐟 Composite Pisces Mars, Mars at 12 degrees or Composite Mars in the 12th house will really hold you accountable, even when you will be trying sweep thoughts, feelings, conversations, under the rug.😩 Like yes, it is known for sweeping topics under the rug, giving too many chances, forgiving. But you will notice things go wrong or poorly/bad in the connection when you just let it slide. Like the universe won’t allow you to do that, if it’s not genuine. You might not vocalize certain of your genuine thoughts, ideas, feelings for the sake of keeping peace in the connection that one time, but it will blow up in your face later all at once, because the universe won’t let it slide. 😬

🌊 Often when people say “Oh my partner did that for me in the beginning, but they don’t do it anymore now”, I suggest look at your partner’s Venus sign. This is how they behave towards you to attract you. This is “the attractive you” you are usually in the beginning, early stages of getting to know someone or when you are going in for y job interview. For example:

Aries Venus: they will asking YOU firstly jokingly “Are you trying to flirt me?😂”, they can slide this one casually in the conversation.

Taurus Venus: buy you a little gift (but usually great great quality), treat you to a meal out or sharing snacks with you. might also gift you clothing for the very first birthday you have, which is their way of telling you they like you.

Gemini Venus: helps you out a lot (sometimes forces their help onto you😅), pays for drinks, seems like they will help you or be there for you if anything happens every day out of the week.

Cancer Venus: they usually potray themselves as the emotional one and describe people around them are all “so stone cold”, they are more emotionally open in the beginning to lure you in, but later you realize they are quite stoic actually or even nonchalant.

Leo Venus: gives a lot of attention mostly in the beginning. because later they wanna experience being the one that is the center of attention in the relationship.

Virgo Venus: will text you consistently and always make sure that they are there for you, also the one to likely help you out, but with ulterior motives😅

Libra Venus: another one that pays for your meals, they will take you out, wine and dine you, you will feel like they know all the good restaurants.

Scorpio Venus: now, this one is hard. it’s usually in their stares. If it’s there, it’s already in the EYE CONTACT. If you don’t know what I mean by eye contact, then the sparkle is not there. but quite soon, they will have a a little, but manageble jealous episode, when you mention your female/male friends and that is how they reveal themselves that they care about you.

Sagittarius Venus: oh this one will take you places, organize that bike trip, show you a city they know really well and take you around, feed you with their stories and impress you with their many life experiences.

Capricorn Venus: acting too busy, burdened with duties, but actually hanging with their parents in the free time or playing video games. oh gosh, they give such air of being on their own constant strict schedule, that you will feel like they don’t have time for you, so that when they give you their time, you will think it is special.

Aquarius Venus: this one is unique, will likely organize a set up, group situation with a few of their trusted friends with you going for a drink/meal, but it’s a test try, to see how well you would merge in, another type is acting super busy and productive with you, but actually hanging with friends, partying.

Pisces Venus: lure you in by giving you things, items for free or impressing you with their musical talent, sing you a song, make you homemade art, treating you to a nice sweet homebaked treat, they will give the impression of being naive, but that’s quite far for it.

🐟 You might argue less with people how have Saturn on your Ascendant, because you will feel like you need to level up mentally and act more mature when you are around them, so you are likely to avoid petty fights, but only when you are with this person.

🌊 We often watch TV series, films with actors who share the same Moon sign as us. For example: I noticed Sex and the City TV series is very popular among Aquarius and Capricorn Moon people (also Sagittarius Moon to certain extent) and main actresses have these Moon signs too.

🐟 Aquarius Mars people are few of the actors who actually don’t mind being known for THAT one movie/TV series role and don’t try to run away from that image, they instead embrace it. For example: actress Eva Longoria (Aquarius Mars) who still to this day doesn’t mind being asked about her well-known and iconic role as Gaby Solis in TV series Desperate Housewives.

Credit: @astroismypassion

[roxyyastro]

The nature of your spouse can be inferred by examining the planets located in your 7th house, as each planet brings distinct qualities and influences to the type of partner you will have.

Check the lord too

Sun in the 7th House

Spouse's Nature: Your spouse is likely to be confident, charismatic, and perhaps authoritative. They may have a strong personality and a desire to be the center of attention. This placement often indicates a partner who is warm-hearted, generous, and enjoys being in the spotlight.

Relationship Dynamic: The partnership is vibrant and full of life. Your spouse might bring a sense of identity and purpose to the relationship, and they likely take a leading role.

Moon in the 7th House

Spouse's Nature: Your spouse is likely to be nurturing, emotional, and sensitive. They may be highly attuned to your needs and feelings, providing comfort and support. This placement often indicates a partner who is intuitive, caring, and possibly more domestic or family-oriented.

Relationship Dynamic:The relationship is emotionally fulfilling and based on mutual care and understanding. There may be strong emotional bonds and a focus on creating a nurturing home environment.

Mercury in the 7th House

Spouse's Nature: Your spouse is likely to be communicative, intellectual, and curious. They may be talkative and enjoy engaging in discussions and sharing ideas. This placement often indicates a partner who is adaptable, witty, and enjoys learning.

Relationship Dynamic: The partnership thrives on communication and mental stimulation. Your spouse might be someone who encourages intellectual growth and keeps the relationship lively with conversation.

Venus in the 7th House

Spouse's Nature: Your spouse is likely to be charming, affectionate, and harmonious. They may have a strong appreciation for beauty and aesthetics, and they are likely to be loving and romantic. This placement often indicates a partner who is graceful, diplomatic, and values harmony in the relationship.

Relationship Dynamic: The relationship is characterized by love, affection, and a desire for balance and harmony. Your spouse likely brings a sense of beauty and pleasure to the partnership.

Mars in the 7th House

Spouse's Nature: Your spouse is likely to be energetic, assertive, and possibly competitive. They may have a strong drive and be passionate about their interests. This placement often indicates a partner who is dynamic, courageous, and enjoys taking action.

Relationship Dynamic: The partnership is passionate and full of energy. There may be occasional conflicts due to the assertive nature of Mars, but this can also lead to growth and excitement.

Jupiter in the 7th House

Spouse's Nature: Your spouse is likely to be optimistic, generous, and expansive. They may have a positive outlook on life and a strong sense of morality. This placement often indicates a partner who is enthusiastic, adventurous, and enjoys learning and exploring.

Relationship Dynamic: The relationship is characterized by growth, positivity, and mutual support. Your spouse likely brings a sense of joy and adventure to the partnership.

Saturn in the 7th House

Spouse's Nature: your spouse is likely to be responsible, disciplined, and possibly serious. They may have a strong sense of duty and commitment. This placement often indicates a partner who is mature, reliable, and values stability and structure in the relationship.

Relationship Dynamic: The partnership is stable and long-lasting, with a focus on mutual responsibilities and commitments. There may be challenges, but these can strengthen the bond over time.

Uranus in the 7th House

Spouse's Nature: Your spouse is likely to be unconventional, independent, and possibly unpredictable. They may value freedom and individuality. This placement often indicates a partner who is innovative, unique, and enjoys change and excitement.

Relationship Dynamic: The relationship is dynamic and full of surprises. Your spouse likely brings a sense of innovation and excitement to the partnership, encouraging growth and change.

Neptune in the 7th House

Spouse's Nature: Your spouse is likely to be compassionate, idealistic, and possibly dreamy. They may have a strong sense of spirituality and intuition. This placement often indicates a partner who is empathetic, artistic, and values a deep, spiritual connection.

Relationship Dynamic: The partnership is characterized by compassion, empathy, and a focus on spiritual or emotional bonding. There may be challenges with clarity and boundaries, but the connection is likely to be deeply fulfilling.

Pluto in the 7th House

Spouse's Nature: Your spouse is likely to be intense, transformative, and possibly secretive. They may have a strong will and a deep, penetrating nature. This placement often indicates a partner who is powerful, passionate, and values deep, transformative experiences.

Relationship Dynamic: The relationship is intense and transformative, with a focus on personal growth and deep emotional connection. Your spouse likely brings a sense of power and depth to the partnership.

[loveemagicpeace]

🏹Astrology Notes 🛼

People with many aspects of Neptune, especially Neptune Square North Node, can get into bad paths (alcohol, drugs...) many times they look for a solution by running away from problems. In life, they struggle with many difficult, incomprehensible, strange things. They may come across many people who deceive them.

Pluto opp chiron - can illustrate that you never really get over your traumas that were inflicted on you when you were little. Many times you can carry a swordsman's side inside you and never really let it go.

Mercury opp chiron- you have a hard time expressing or talking about your pain. It can often take a really long time to talk about what's bothering you.

Mercury conj Pluto- you can always be secretive about what you say. It could also be that a part of you is always hidden behind words.

The aspect of the moon and Saturn indicates the relationship the person has with his mother. People who have very strong aspects with the moon and saturn can be very attached to their mother and the mother has a great influence on them. It also shows that this person is not emotionally open and can always keep their feelings inside.

Dynamic aspects (opposition, square, inconjunction, semi-square) between Saturn and Jupiter indicate that a person can be full of hope at one moment and completely desperate at the next. These aspects are often associated with suicide. Because people can hardly bear such strong energy.

There are differences: Sagittarius is much more changeable than Jupiter, more freedom-loving and irresponsible. Sagittarius is less likely to symbolize the acquisition of material goods. Also, being a sign and therefore a less powerful symbol than a planet, it is less likely than Jupiter to operate at an excessive level. Sagittarius is less likely to signify waste, excess, or arrogance. Sagittarius gets along best with planets like Mars, Uranus, and the Sun, which are fast-moving, energetic, and not resistant to change.

Strongly emotional planets do not do well in Capricorn because the sign tends to repress emotion in favor of discipline. The Moon is particularly difficult here, because Capricorn will not allow the Moon to enjoy being dependent on others, a mode of relationship that is absolutely essential to the Moon’s functioning at some point in life. Venus is also not at its best, because its emotional criteria for choice are likely to be subordinated to practical criteria. Venus in Capricorn can also indicate an attraction to older persons who can serve as authority figures as well as lovers.

The Pisces symbol is two fishes swimming in opposite directions, and like Sagittarius and Gemini, Pisces is traditionally referred to as a dual sign. There are two types of Piscean: the advanced (Pisces as the last stage in the evolution of the archetypal ego or self) and the primitive (Pisces as the stage just prior to a new beginning in Aries).

Pluto in the 3rd house can represent a very strong bond with a sister. So separation with your sister can very difficult if you live far apart. You can create a beautiful and strong bond with your sister.

Mars in the 5th house indicates a difficult birth and problems with children. Children may be restless, aggressive or angry. It is important to look at aspects.

Jupiter in the 9th house often indicates good intuition and prophetic dreams. So it is important to remember your dreams.

Virgo rising people are so beautiful. I notice that women have beautiful faces and skin. Men, on the other hand, have well-developed eyes and bodies. I would say that virgins can have more beautiful beauty than technical ones in the subsign. Otherwise, it depends on where Mercury falls in the house, but still, their beauty is very naturally beautiful.

Moon in the third house indicates sensitive emotions and feelings. Moods change quickly.

The Moon in the fifth house indicates great success for children. Also a  person very dedicated to fun.

Moon in the sixth house can mean too much strain in terms of health. Lots of public contact. It can also mean insecurity and health problems in the first 7 years.

Mars in 7th house can mean that the individual is too open in relationships and dealings. It can also mean that he is jealous, intense and controlling.

Mars in the 11th house means you can be argumentative and want things your way. Many times the need for freedom is strong.

Mars in 12th house- the individual is interested in hidden things. You can join things that are secret. You like to work in the shadows. And you present your things when you are sure of them.

Uranus in the first house often shows that your personality is very unique and special. You have an energy that others find rare and interesting. You are a person who does not like drug treatment and prefers to find a different way (natural way of treatment). You want a job that is free and you don't like being controlled by others.

Uranus in the seventh house indicates premature engagement or marriage. It also means inharmonious relationships (if the aspects are not good). It also indicates a relationship in which one is ingenious and clever.

Uranus in ten house people are prone to emotional or physical loss through one parent. It is said that people with this position are also inclined to have two professions at the same time. It is important for women to check if her Uranus is in the 10th house of a man. Because this can indicate that the man is more focused on his career than her.

A person with mercury in the 9th house will always know at least 2 foreign languages, if not more. These people learn foreign languages very quickly and quickly understand others. They often prefer foreign languages.

Mars in Libra -A person can be quarrelsome and inharmonious. But it's not always like that. It depends on what aspects the person has. Person can be very passive aggressive and hides a lot of their energy. Many times they do something, but in reality they want something completely different. They can place the blame on others in many cases unless the person has Venus in good stabile sign.

Chart ruler of 8th house in 5th house -if it is  in bad aspects, it can indicate the possibility of miscarriage, loss of a child at birth or in youth.

Chart ruler  of 8th house in 8th house symbolizes benefit from the dead. Interest in immortality, spirituality. If the ruler is in an bad position then there can be problems with dying.

Chart ruler of the 9th house in 4th house travel is necessary for family matters. Property comes from relatives and partner.

Chart ruler of the 9th house in 6th house means handling due to travel. As well as good success abroad. If the aspects are in an unfavorable position, it can mean illness while traveling.

Chart ruler of the 9th house in 7th house means marriage in a foreign country or marriage with a foreigner. It often symbolizes a person living in another country. If it is in an unfavorable position, it may mean that relatives oppose the marriage.

The ruler of the 10th house in the 1st house- can mean a lot of ambition and talents. But it can mean loss due to father.

The ruler of the 10th house in the 6th house- symbolizes a humble position in society. Treatment can be an important part of an individual's life. If the aspects are bad, it can mean loss of career due to health.

Ruler of 10th house in 7th house- indicates benefit from public. Lawsuits are positive and marriage can bring fame.

Ruler of the 10th house in the 11th house - symbolizes the fulfillment of dreams. Strong and influential friends help the individual.

-Rebekah🧚🏻‍♀️🦋

[kth1fics]

Twisted Fate (M) | MYG

Twisted Fate

⟶ Pairing: Min Yoongi x Female Reader (Y/N) ⟶ Genre: Oneshot, Smut, Rated R | 18+ ⟶ Tropes: Vampire!Yoongi, Strangers to Lovers, Royalty AU, Supernatural AU, Fantasy AU ⟶ WC: 4.7k+ ⟶ Warnings: blood (obviously), some degrading, biting / blood drinking, breast play, choking, sparkling jealousy, unprotected sex, there’s a third party at play, some bondage, fingering, oral (f), threats, reader has a nickname. ⟶ Beta: n/a (no beta just complete yolo - if it doesn't make sense don't worry about it) ⟶ Summary: A slice of vampiric lifestyle here inside the Briarwood Manor walls after you ultimately picked the Lord you wish to serve. ⟶ Author’s Note: I actually feel very bad that most of all my hosted collaborations are incomplete. It happens though, ya know? This Yoongi is a part of the Briarwood Manor Collab, hosted by myself! I never expected to be writing this fic, honestly. But I hope it does well and is good enough! Please leave any feedback or comments on a reblog, post, or even my ask box! ⟶ Song Recommendation: Sweet Sacrifice by Evanescence

Masterlist ◈ Mail Box ◈ AO3 ◈ Ko-Fi

“Hello, puppet, did you miss me?”

The low mischievous voice whispers a chill in your ear. His cold hand comes to rest on your bare shoulder, stroking your soft skin. If anyone were to see they’d think his touch is sincere and tender, a loving gesture to greet his lover, but they’d be so very wrong. 

A puppet is what you are to him, nothing more. To serve however he sees fit. The nickname is quick out of his mouth the moment you pick him under the shine of a blood moon. You aren’t so sure what drew you to him in the first place. Maybe his aura played a trick on you, taunted you with his beauty and looks. An elegant and stoic composure mixed in one. The most unresponsive to the personal sacrifice (you) during the ritual.

You still remember the lifeless blink of his eyes when he first looked at you. From there you should have known he didn’t see the life inside of you. The vampire whose fangs ghost over your neck and haunt your nights is far from a lover. He’s an obligation. A duty. The choice you were forced to make among the six other princes.

Some nights you question what would have been if you picked someone different. How would the others treat their Church’s generous gift? Would you be more than a puppet?

His hand sends a visible chill through you. The sickly sweet voice of Lord Yoongi that you dread has returned after weeks away. There’s no doubt in your mind that there’s a toothy-grin widening on his face when he inhales your scent. You were just starting to enjoy that temporary freedom from his demanding fangs. Oh, how you wish he was gone just a while longer.

Yoongi had been away visiting a nearby kingdom to the West for business. Both Lord Namjoon and Lord Hoseok accompanied him. You know very little of their endeavors. Council work if anything. Matters that a blood-bag, such as yourself, has no business knowing. You are thankful for the pleasant peace of the manor while you had it.

You remain quiet, but your heart pounds in your chest. Anyone in an earshot can probably hear it pumping through your veins. Yoongi sends a full attack to your nervous system and he hardly touches you.

“Let’s pretend that’s excitement,” he comments as a nimble finger runs along your neck.

“H-How was the trip?” You ignore his first question completely. Faking a soft smile to please him.

“Nonsense,” he mutters as his mouth hovers the crook of your next. Your body already expects the snag of his teeth any second now. “Take off that pathetic excuse of a dress the servants dressed you in. I want you in my quarters. Now,” Yoongi whispers with demand.

You feel that there’s no room for objections, you’ve learned the hard way once or twice before. Disobeying Yoongi only makes things harder for you.

The first step you take halts as you feel his hand tug at the lace to your bodice. It snaps easily, loosening the material for an easier escape. Yoongi trails you, watches you with a burning hunger, as one by one you shed your clothes on your way to his room. 

There’s no shame walking down the corridors of the manor, you’ve gotten used to these trips. Seen many others in the same position. It’s the way of life here.

Yoongi’s room is one of the furthest from the grand room. It requires walking the stairs and passing several other spaces before reaching the crystal knob of his door. On occasion, his impatience forces you into the music room where he lays you on the piano lid and does exactly what one can imagine. 

Although, tonight doesn’t feel like one of those nights.

“You haven’t answered me yet,” his voice hums, “did you miss me?”

You don’t loath the man, but you know what he does to you. How you are easily frail compared to him and fear slipping up. The sharpness in his fangs and in his words and the strength in his grip and demeanor. You do not miss his beastly moods when he sucks your blood savagely and brings you to the brink of tears. To where you fall far too weak to put up a fight.

There are no soft sides to Yoongi, not from what you’ve witnessed anyway. When he’s finished with you, you’re sure he’ll do it with no remorse.

You want to answer truthfully. Saying ‘no’ is on the very tip of your tongue. Maybe his absence did make you feel useless in a way. But you also felt relief by being away from the ruthless need of your body. And for that, you feel a tang of guilt. Making you question how you actually feel.

“Yes, my Lord,” you speak sweet yet flat. “Your presence was greatly missed.”

Finally, you’re met in the center of his room. The still cool air swallows you as you stand there awaiting his next command. The click to the door shutting behind you resounds out loud. It leaves you trapped inside the vampire’s chamber.

“Of course you did,” he smirks to himself as he slowly undos his cufflinks. His eyes continue to scan you, admiring the shape of your body and nudity. “Go on. Sit.”

You see the nod of his head from your peripheral as you stare blankly at the dark silk comforter. A canopy hangs from the ceiling above, draping thick charcoal black curtains. There’s a litter of candles scattered throughout, none of which are lit. You’re granted very little light from the cascading moon from outside the tall paneled windows. It’s darker than usual due to the storm clouds. 

Everyday his chamber is cleaned and dusted even when left unoccupied. Yoongi likes his stuff maintained, presetine if he could. If one thing is out of alignment he will notice it. They have workers for several reasons, many for pure enjoyment and food.

As you take a seat on the side of the bed, Yoongi hovers. He stands close, taking your chin in his hand and tilting your head up to look at him. His grip is menacing, you’re aware of how easily a man with his strength can break your bones.

“Whore,” he comments as he looks down on you.

His voice cuts through you like a knife. Clear and loud. He watches the way your eyes flicker in shock and widen. Heat plasters to your face as his grip tightens.

“Do you think I don’t know?” He huffed a laugh. “Why don’t you tell me what I'm speaking about?”

“Y-Yoongi I –”

He slips a finger into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue to prevent you from forming any more words.

“Take my name out of your dirty mouth or I'll do it for you,” he threatens.

“I’m sorry!,” you attempt to say out of pure reaction. 

Yoongi leans in flashing you a smile, revealing his sharpened canines. His eyes turn a blazing ruby red, popping out of his stark black hair.

“I’ll release your tongue and when the second I do, I expect you to tell me.”

He waits for your acknowledgement before his fingers find their way back to cradling your chin.

“Lord Jimin,” the name falls out of your mouth just as your eyes fall to the ground. “I didn’t know what I was supposed to do,” you fester up.

How could you? With no guidance from the Lord you picked. He left you at the manor with very little discussion. There’s unspoken rules you’re still learning to this day. How are you supposed to know what Lord Yoongi wants when he doesn’t speak the words into existence?

“You’re not his,” Yoongi states. He rests one knee on the edge of the bed beside you. His other hand traces up your arm lightly all the way to the back of your neck. With his position, he brings your head back up to look at him. “I don’t care what he says. You picked me.”

“He would have killed me if I denied his advances,” you mention. Confusion and panic swells deeply in your eyes. “He only just –”

Yoongi snorts, displeased beyond belief. “He wouldn’t unless he wanted a war. He knows you belong to me and took the opportunity to take you when I was gone.”

“–Just bit me!,” you managed to get out.

“Hm?” Yoongi’s eyebrow quirks.

“He only just bit me. I swear there is nothing more!”

You plead with your eyes. You’ve never wanted to upset him in any way. The role you play is one you take seriously. If you were murdered by a fellow ally of your Lord, that would have madden him further, no?

Yoongi’s touch turns featherlight, nothing compared to how he touches you when he lays with you. Rough and demanding. Guiding you exactly how and when he wants it. It’s what you’re expecting from him.

He leans down close, slotting his head next to your neck as he breathes in your scent. “I’ll keep you locked up in my room.” Yoongi’s lips touch against your skin, you can’t help but shiver. “Spread your legs.”

Yoongi’s cool fingers ghost your core, leaving traces as they pass each inch. You feel the threat of his fangs against you, making your body heat up quickly. It is safe to say that you do miss the way he touches you. Feeling his grip all over your body, it brings you to places you’ve never – and will never – admit.

“But I'll have no property of mine” – he continues with his earlier words – “be shared like a whore on the street.”

You politely move your head to the side with his hand as direction, bracing for the impact of his teeth. They lightly drag along your jugular until he finds his desired spot before sinking them into your skin.

The feeling hurts like a razor sharp sting as you release a groan. Yoongi’s hand secures you in place as the other presses against your heated core. His fingers slip between your folds, gliding them across your clit and into your pussy. Drawing out the wetness he searches for.

There’s a trickle of blood that breaks through the seam of Yoongi’s lips, dripping down the front of your chest. He’s sloppy, unusual for him. Probably from the weeks away. You stay stagnant, letting Yoongi do as he pleases.

“Lay back,” Yoongi pushes you down before you feel his lips pressing kisses on your thighs. He continues to press two fingers into you while he reaches for your nipple, swirling around the hardening bud.

You close your eyes as you let out a shuddering breath. Your entire body is warming up, aching silently for more. Maybe he misses you?

“Do you want me to touch you more?” The voice is so low you can barely hear it over the heavy rain outside. When his touch does everything to ignite that burning sensation inside, how can you not want more?

“Yes,” you whimper when another kiss lands on your inner thigh. You feel your pussy tighten from the want, the need.

“Yes?” He questions, as his fingers pinch down hard on your nipple. It sends bolting zaps of pain through you, making you yelp at the action.

You feel his plunging fingers curl up inside you and drag against your walls. Your legs move on their own accord, body only reacting to the joyous sensation.

“Oh God, yes! Please touch me!” You plead.

Once your desperate words leave your mouth, he latches onto your clit, sucking the sweet tender bud eagerly. He pairs it well with the pace of his fingers in your aching core, possessive hand roaming your front as his body slots between your legs.

Your curious eyes travel downward to spy Yoongi’s black hair nuzzled between your thighs and feverishly licking at your leaking arousal. It takes everything in you to not place your hands in his hair, you know he doesn’t like being touched. But it looks so soft, so long and pretty. 

“I don’t want you to ever think about being bitten by anyone else,” he growls. “Your blood is mine and mine only.” You feel your leg being lifted enough for Yoongi’s fangs to pierce the skin on your inner thigh.

His words and actions make you whimper. Yoongi’s tongue laps over the bleeding blood on your skin.

“I won’t,” you affirm as you toss your head to the side. Absentmindedly your fingers thread through his hair, it feels like the finest of silks. “I only want you to bite me, Lord Yoongi.”

Your confession pleases him. He replaces his fingers with his tongue, diving it deep into your leaking hole. A moan slips from your mouth while your fingers fasten a lock in his hair. Lewd noises spill into the air from the vampire sucking and licking at your core, devouring the taste of you.

Doing what he says always grants you intense pleasure. Being good tends to satisfy you, you realized that a long time ago. Once Yoongi draws you agonizingly close to a climax, he withdraws his pursuit. Leaving you in a cloud of haze.

‘Is that it?’ you think to yourself. Why the sudden stop? Did you do something wrong?

Yoongi reluctantly pulls from you, forcing your hands off his hair with a sinister smile. Blood and arousal is smeared across his mouth and chin.

“What’s wrong?” you whisper the question.

You’re left huffing and puffing as you feel your orgasm slipping away from you. His menacing stare down doesn’t ease your mind and you feel your body shriveling up from under his scorching red eyes.

“Time to learn your lesson.”

Yoongi manages to pull your body up the bed to the headboard. Fastening two hard metal cuffs to each of your wrists. You’ve been here once before in a playful gig, but the motivation behind Yoongi’s tone sends a shiver to your spine.

You obey, as you should, while the darkness of the drapes shroud around the bed. You’re left with red glowing eyes staring straight down at you once again. His ethereal features, as beautiful as they are, frighten you to say the least. There's anger swirling inside of him. The angel you view Yoongi at shows how the cut of his eyes are deadly, the shape of his jaw is sharp and the curve of his lips stands against the casted shadows of the dark. You feel the anxious fear bubbling up inside your body, a spike of nerves setting aflame.

“What?”

He can read you like a book. Heart pinging higher than the normal rate. A confused quirk of your brows. Even the clearing of your throat and desperate breaths have him understanding your senses. Your body language tells him everything he needs to know about your fear.

“Brianne!” Yoongi snaps his fingers together as he calls upon a servant.

On cue, the door to his room opens and closes. She walks as punctually as ever, hands clasped in front of her apron as she curtsy bows to the vampire.

“My Lord,” she smiles. Paying you no mind as you lay naked and latched to Yoongi’s bed. “How may I aid you?”

“My puppet here is in need of a lesson. Care to participate?”

“It would be an honor,” Brianna bows.

Unspokenly, she begins to shed her clothes piece by piece. Yoongi hums to himself as he does the same. You are left strapped there, witnessing the entire event in confusion.

It’s as if this has been done before. You watch with worry as Brianne steps out of her skirt and pulls out the ties of her hair, allowing it to cascade around her shoulders. She steps toward the bed, eyes nearly lifeless, as she glances at you. There’s several, very visible, bite wounds on her body.

Quickly, Yoongi meets Brianne from behind. His hands guide her atop the mattress as she kneels near your feet. You curl up further, drawing your legs into yourself as your mind races with endless possibilities of what’s about to happen.

“Puppet?”

You flinch, very noticeably, at the bark of your nickname. You hadn’t realized how on edge your nerves are until now.

Yoongi follows behind Brianne, being sure to peer over her shoulder at you with his ruby eyes. Brianne is displayed before you, legs spread apart as she kneels, tits in full view. Yoongi’s crafty and daft hands sliding across her front and touching every piece of her. It’s a taunting scene, mentally riling you up inside.

“I want you to know,” Yoongi begins with a devilish low growl, “How easy it is,” he pushes aside Brianne’s hair to expose her neck, “For us to take a whore.”

Yoongi latches his mouth down on Brianne, forcing a muffled groan out of her throat. He bites, and bites, and bites, until there’s a chain of red leaking down her shoulder and arm. Some meet the mound of her breast, where Yoongi happily is cupping with his own hand while the other is gliding down her front and rubbing circles on her clit.

You watch in shame and fear. Seeing the way Brianne thrives from the mutilating hands and mouth of the Lord. Pleasure crosses her face, pain and ecstasy. She has no embarrassment with the noises that leak out of her. You swear you see her face mocking yours as you turn away.

“Look at me,” you hear the demanding growl of Yoongi.

But the burning heat of anger tingles your face. You fear disobeying him though. It only can make things worse.

“Puppet!” he growls over Brianne’s moans. Yoongi pushes Brianne down on her hands, her head closer to where you curl up against the headboard. “Look at what I am doing!”

You hesitantly glance over, hating the scene you see. Yoongi’s possessive hands scratch Brianne’s back as he lines himself behind her. There’s blood covering his front, smearing down his chest as his mouth gaps open. You squirm uncomfortably. As much as you loathe what’s happening, how your heart is thumping with disbelief and hatred, it bothers you even more that it turns you on.

Yoongi spits down at the junction between Brianna and himself and lathers his cock with his free hand. He slots himself inside her roughly, pulling out a loud moan from Brianne and forcing tears to swell in your eyes.

“Look at me!” He commands again, and this time you stare at his glowing eyes. 

Locked in and afraid to move. Sure you can see Brianne through the edges of your sight, you can see the way Yoongi’s abs flex with each harsh thrust he inflicts on her, the way her audible noises fill the room just like the way Yoongi’s cock fills her pussy.

He keeps his stare with you, eyes threatening. “How do you feel when I choose someone else? To make them feel this good while I feed and fuck them? Do you think you’re so special to go around and give yourself up like Brianne here?” He grunts between breaths, making sure to give Brianne a good ramming as her hips get pulled back into him. 

Yoongi continues to speak to you, “Do you want to end up like this?” He quizzes you again. He forces Brianne to flip over, revealing all those scattered bite marks on her body including his own. He arches her back by holding a hand under her. You can’t help but to flick your eyes down at it.

There’s a burning rage brewing inside of you, watching the way your Lord takes care of another. Bluntly in front of you as well. You don’t think you’re anything special, just a gift from the Church. There’s no doubt in your mind Yoongi has all the freedom to do what he pleases, but you’re mad that you aren’t the option when you were only raised to be such.

You remain silent and fear stricken. There’s upset and anger on your face and he can see that. Pathetically, you are his. You picked this. But desperately you want to only be his.

“No,” you whimper out. There’s a sad tear that rolls down the curve of your cheek.

“‘No’ what?”

There’s thorns forming inside of your throat, digging into it as if your voice doesn’t have freedom.

“No I don’t want this!”

Yoongi continues to thrust into Brianne, but his attention is on you. His hand closes down on her throat, squeezing slowly to prevent airflow.

“Have you learned?” His fingernails begin digging into Brianne and you hear her noticeable gasp. “That a whore is used by many and can be,” – he squeezes firmer, watching Brianne’s hands clasp around his wrist in protest – “killed with no feeling of guilt?”

There’s a gargle replacing the moans in Brianne’s mouth. Her eyes are bloodshot and full of tears. Yoongi pays no attention, he knows what he’s doing. But he keeps his ruby eyes on you, stalking your next actions.

“Yoongi, stop!” You shout with warning, “She’s going to die!”

“So?” His voice is cold.

“Stop!” you plead. “Stop it, stop it, stop it! I get it! I’m sorry! Just stop it!” Each hopeless syllable falling out of your mouth amplifies higher until you shout.

Yoongi finally halts his actions completely, releasing his grip on poor Brianne and pulling out of her. She gasps as her lungs fill with air, hands clutching her throat. Yoongi rolls her over, letting her legs hit the floor beside the bed and commands her to stand.

He analyzes her, wipes away the wet tears from her face before patting the side of her head. “Gather your things,” he beckons. “Please seek Lord Jimin and tell him you are but a gift from me.”

Brianne attempts a hoarse response but her throat is far too fragile to speak. She quickly gathers her belongings and rushes out of the room, holding her throat with a hand the entire time.

As the room falls silent, you can’t help but stare at the naked vampire in front of you. He’s thin, toned, skin milky pale due to his vampiric complexion and lack of sun. Cock stands out, still hardened as a hand runs along its length.

“Never become a whore, puppet. It’ll get you killed.”

Yoongi turns to look back at you, seeing how shriveled up you’ve become. He knows the power he holds and the loyalty you only wish to fulfill. It’s how you are raised. You want to act on your own actions, but Yoongi is the shotcaller. The owner of you.

“I’m only yours,” you state with a nod. 

Like lightning, Yoongi returns to you. Finger’s dipping into your cunt again. He groans with the seeping wet arousal leaking from you, making sure to comment on how you must have been turned on all along. He pushes deep inside your needy walls, stoking and thrusting his fingers at a quick pace almost as if he wants you to cum right then and there. His tongue works on your clit, swirling delicately around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

The pleasure between your legs causes you to tremble, Yoongi’s name falls out of your mouth as you tug on the cuffs chaining you to the bed. You’re beginning to feel the start of your delayed climax from before. Your breaths become shallow pants while you can’t help but ride Yoongi’s mouth desperately.

Your hazy mind takes away your active awareness and forces you to enjoy the senses you hear, feel, smell, taste, and see. Yoongi works his way up past your navel, peppering kisses on his pursuit to your clavicles. His teeth glide over your skin only enough to scratch you as you whimper from the loss of his tongue.

Somehow you end up on your knees and straddling Yoongi’s pelvis. He flipped you quickly to slide himself under you. The chains twist, forcing your wrists together. His hair fans out around his head as he rests on the pillow, eyes lazily looking up at your hanging breasts. You feel the cold hard hands on your hips as he leads you onto his cock, letting you slide against his length and spread your arousal on him.

You use your arm to muffle your moan as he slips his tip inside of you. The promise of his length inside of you makes you eager so you press down. Letting an inch deeper before he pulls you back up to begin the process again.

Yoongi leans up from under you to latch his mouth on one tit, sucking harshly at your nipple before sinking his fangs enough to draw blood. The sting hurts, you whine on the impact as he simultaneously draws your hips down onto him. Stuffing his thick cock inside your tight cunt.

You want to lean on him for support but those blasted chains hold your position high. In reaction, you bite your own arm as you feel the way Yoongi fills you up and feeds on you. The joyous satisfaction you gain from pleasing the Lord is soon to follow.

Yeah, there is no way you wish to be a whore. Yoongi is more than enough.

“You like it. Don’t you, puppet?” Yoongi chuckles. He pulls on your hair sharply, twisting your head to the side to admire his earlier bite mark. “You like being my little puppet and filled up like this, huh?” Yoongi grinds his hips into you, his other hand firmly guiding your body to ride him.

You’re left breathless, painfully in pleasure, but fully enjoying being filled to the brim by his cock. The recklessness of his grip on your hair and bleeding from his beautiful bites. It’s so devilishly good, you could never wish to be anything more than his puppet. 

“Ah, please,” you groan. The sound of skin against skin resonates throughout the darkened room. It’s mingled with your beautiful cries and his low guttural grunts. 

“I love it,” you confess.

You don’t ever want to be used to getting filled so well. You don’t want to be curious about the other princes and how they would treat you. Something about Yoongi is exactly what you need, you just never knew before. Is the lesson supposed to make you have this realization?

Yoongi releases a low groan against your skin, murmuring, “you feel so fucking good. You taste so fucking good.”

Once again, Yoongi sinks his teeth in you. The pain draws you closer to your impending orgasm and you yelp outloud. 

His thrusts become even more determined. Your chest arches into him as you tug on the cuffs that limit your hand movement. The noise from the headboard thuds rhythmically against the wall as your cunt clenches.

“Cum on me,” you hear the words tickle your ears. Yoongi’s hand wraps around your head and leads you into a bloody, searing kiss. He hushes your moans as his tongue dives past your teeth.

Metabolic tasting liquid seeps into your taste buds but you aren’t focused on the flavor. The cradling hand on your cheek and gentle soft strokes of his fingers on your hips are. The deepened kiss, full of lust and passion, sends you to overdrive as you whimper through your crashing orgasm.

Your legs shake against his sides in the same pace of your walls gripping his cock. Your blood trickles down on Yoongi’s chest as you ride out the waves of pleasure. Wet squelching sounds happen at the intersection between you and him as his thumb runs circles against your clit.

You feel your eyes fluttering shut as you groan. Your rolling orgasm kicks your body into realizing how much strain it’s handling. The harsh mixture of pain and pleasure. Your body is beginning to fall limp, the life and energy inside of you finally hitting their max. You want to collapse but Yoongi continues to thrust into you, perhaps chasing his own high.

“Ah,” you breathe as Yoongi’s mouth detaches from yours. His eyes focus on the mess of arousal on his lap, the way your cunt disappears his cock entirely. There’s a vice grip on your hips now, all you can do now  is be a toy for him.

A puppet, so he’d say.

Your head begins to spin as your vision fades into darkness. The last thing you see is the beautiful features of Yoongi, enjoying full on gratification from your body. Blood covered across his smooth poreless skin and black raven hair. 

moodboard credit: @kth1

© 2024 All rights reserved under @kth1​ - do not copy, repost, modify, edit, or translate any of my work without my direct consent. This TUMBLR and AO3 are the ONLY places my fics are posted.

[thatbloodymuggle]

MASTERMIND (iv)

FOUR - MOON AND STARS

SUMMARY: A child of light and dark, you are the Night Court’s best kept secret. After decades spent in hiding, you yearn to stretch your wings. But you quickly learn that freedom comes with a price, as you find yourself trying to outfox the fox in his own den.

PAIRING: eris vanserra x reader

WORD COUNT: 9.8k

SERIES MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: language, graphic descriptions of violence, smut, oral (f receiving), loss of virginity, p in v

“Fuck, Eris,” you moan.

He slaps your leg harshly in a wordless command to keep your voice down as he buries himself further between your thighs. 

You’re not quite sure how you ended up here, pressed up against a bookshelf with Eris on his knees beneath you, your leg swung over his shoulder as he feasts on you like a man starved. You’re sure the myriads of ancient philosophers behind you are rolling over in their graves right now. But with the way he’s suckling on your clit like it’s his last day on Earth, you can’t complain.

You bite down on your lip so hard you can taste blood to keep the sounds at bay, but he seems determined to make your job impossible as he curls a finger against that delicious spot deep inside you. Your legs tremble violently as you feel your high approaching, and you grip onto his crimson hair for dear life. He can feel you clench around his fingers, and he flicks his tongue against your clit at a punishing speed.

“Eris, I’m—”

Your lips part in a silent gasp as you reach your peak. The ecstasy coursing through your veins is dizzying, and your legs fall limp. Eris holds you steady as he continues his ministrations, riding you through your orgasm until the overstimulation is too much and you’re pushing his head away. You glance down shyly through spotted vision to find up looking up at you, grinning like a devil. He pulls your panties back into place and eases your leg off his shoulder before rising to his full height. He taps his thumb against your mouth, and you part your lips obediently. He dips his fingers into your mouth, and you wrap your lips around them. Your cheeks flare at the taste of your own arousal, and he groans as you swirl your tongue around his fingers, sucking them clean.

“Always so good for me, Little Bird,” he murmurs while pressing a chaste kiss on the shell of your ear.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and dips down to your height to capture your lips in a slow, but sensual, kiss. 

“I think I like you better on your knees,” you mumble into his mouth. 

He grins against your lips, “I’d gladly spend eternity on my knees for you.”

You sink your teeth into his bottom lip teasingly, “If I’d known that all it takes to defeat the Fox is spread my legs, I would’ve dropped my dress a long time ago.”

He nips you back harder, “Don’t mistake my insatiable appetite for weakness, darling.”

Despite the playfulness of his words, there’s an underlying warning that makes your skin prickle with thrill. You whine in protest as he pulls away. He wipes his thumb over his mouth, collecting the remaining evidence of your tryst, before sucking it between swollen lips. 

“As much as I would love to stay hidden with you between bookshelves all day,” he smooths down the front of your wrinkled dress, “I do have a meeting to get to.”

Your lips dip into an exaggerated pout and you reach up to fix his tousled hair, “What will I ever do without you?”

The lilt of your teasing tone elicits a toothy grin.

“Allow me to walk you out,” he intertwines your fingers with his.

You frown and keeping your feet planted in your spot despite his efforts to guide you away, “Can I stay for a bit longer? I was hoping to get through the late Lady Margrave’s anthology before I was so rudely interrupted.”

His lips twitch upwards, but you can see the hesitancy in his eyes.

“I’d rather not leave you here alone,” he maintains.

You raise your hand to his face, rubbing your thumb along his jawline in a coaxing manner, “I promise I won’t be long. And Sage will keep an eye on me,” you reference the smokehound who is currently sleeping soundly in her favorite spot in front of the fireplace.  

He purses his lips, and groans as you teasingly trail your touch down the sensitive skin behind his pointed ear, “You are the devil.”

“I learned from the best,” you muse as you place a swift kiss on the corner of his lips, “Is that a yes?”

“A reluctant one,” he quips, “Only if you promise not to stray from the library—in and out.”

“Promise.”

With your fingers metaphorically crossed behind your back, you don’t feel an ounce of guilt lying through your teeth. 

He rubs his thumb along your knuckles before hesitantly pulling away, “’Till we meet again?”

You flash a coy smile, “’Till we meet again.”

Your shoulders slump with relief as he winnows away in a flash before he can change his mind about letting you stay. You pat your hair down and adjust the skirt of your dress before wandering back towards the front of the library. Sage twitches softly as you take a seat on the couch behind her and pick up your book. The fire warms you as you mindlessly page through the anthology, biding your time before you plot your next search of the house. Your eyes flick back and forth between the text in front of you and the grandfather clock in the corner, your leg bouncing with anticipation. Once the clock strikes 11:00, you deem fifteen minutes to be an acceptable waiting period. You shut the book and place it on the small table beside you, knowing that it will be magically reshelved. Sage sluggishly lifts her head when you rise to your feet, and you give her a soothing scratch between her ears.

“You’ll keep quiet about this, won’t you?” you coo as if she’s a loving pet, rather than a vicious animal.

She merely blinks at you, vermillion eyes unbothered.

An uncomfortable feeling settles in your chest. Eris must really trust you if this creature he’s trained to kill doesn’t so much as bat an eye at your snooping. You give her one last stroke before rising to your fall height and setting off towards the grand, oak doors. You slowly creak them open, peering out to make sure the hallway is empty before exiting. 

The chronically dim light of the hallways works to your advantage as you slink along the shadows in the corridors. This is risky—much riskier than you last venture, as the clock hasn’t even struck noon yet. There are sure to be guards and Vanserras lurking behind every corner. But with only two weeks left to uncover Eris’s true intentions, time is ticking. It’s been difficult keeping Rhys’s incessant pestering at bay, and you’re not sure when you’ll get another opportunity to search through the house with Eris’s constant watchful eye. 

You don’t rush through your movements this time. You empty your mind of everything except Azriel’s map, your eyes and ears at high alert. Beron’s office is about a mile and a half from the library, four floors up. With your creeping pace it will take at least thirty minutes to get there, so you can’t afford even a momentary lapse in focus. You approach your first guard and hold your breath as they unknowingly pass you. You keep your side pressed against the wall as you continue, your footsteps feather-light.

The Mother must be on your side, as you finally make it to the right hallway without running into a single Vanserra. You presume that Eris’s brothers must be with him at whatever meeting he is currently attending. The hair on your arms stands on end as you approach a large, scarlet door. Of course it’s red, you think to yourself. You pause, scanning both ends of the hallway. You wait a few beats, looking out for any unexpected guests, before emerging from the shadows and approaching the blood-colored door. You press your ear against the wood, listening carefully for any breathing or movements. You can sense some wards inside the room, but thankfully none on the door. So, with a deep breath, you wrap your hand around the doorknob.

Your heart beats at a thunderous pace as you creak the door open, inch by inch. Your shoulders slump with your relief as you are greeted with an empty, albeit ghastly, room. You hastily step inside and shut the door behind you before fully taking in your new surroundings.

Unlike Eris’s chambers and office which hold a warm glow, this room is…cold, to say the least. The walls are made of the same limestone in the hallways, and the floor is covered by a carpet the same shade of red as the door. In the center of the office sits a sleek, black desk. From what you’ve heard about the cruel High Lord, this is a fitting space.

You scan over the papers on his desk, careful not to move anything out of place. Nothing piques your interest, so you move to his cabinets. The first drawer slides open easily but contains no information you didn’t already know. You go to pull the second open, but frown at the ward keeping it sealed tight. You could use your spell-cleaving abilities—but doing so may alert Beron that someone went rifling through his office. With a sigh of frustration, you redirect your search to more discrete hiding places. 

You run a hand underneath the desk, and find a small, hidden compartment. You pull it out, and a rush of adrenaline surges through you as you stare down at the box full of correspondences with Brialynn. Although she is no longer a threat to Prythian, you eagerly rifle through them, hoping to find something that may reveal Beron’s next steps. But as you page through, your hope diminishes. Nothing useful—yet again. You carefully rearrange the parchment the same way you found it, and slot it back underneath the desk. 

“If I was a misogynistic tyrant, where would I hide my secrets?” you wonder aloud. 

You scale the room, running your hand along the bookshelf in the corner. Most of the books have collected so much dust, the titles are nearly impossible to read. But there’s a single binding in the corner catches your eye. It’s dust-free, unlike the others. You pull it out, but instantly regret your decision as you flip it open. You shouldn’t be surprised, really, that the only used book in Beron’s office is filled with obscene images of nude females. But that doesn’t stop your face from contorting with disgust. Despite the bile rising in your throat, you still flip through it just in case there is something of use buried within the explicit photographs. However, you are only met with disappointment and an even more blistering nausea as you come up short. You shove the book back in its place with a shudder. Pig.

Having searched every nook and cranny of the dreadful office, you’re at a loss. Your eyes land on that second warded drawer, and you bite your lip in contemplation. Is it worth the risk? You fish a spare coin from the depths of your pockets and pinch it tightly between your fingers. 

“Heads, cleave. Tails, don’t cleave,” you mutter to yourself.

If Rhys could see you know, he’d be screaming. Your lips twitch at the thought, and you throw the coin high in the air. It clatters against the desk and rolls around for a bit before landing.

Heads.

Cleave, it is.

You place both hands on the cabinet and shut your eyes. You take a deep breath in and dispel every lingering thought in your head with a slow exhale. You focus on the feeling of the cabinet at your fingertips, picture yourself physically sucking out every last drop of magic. A wet chill snakes across your hands, up your arms, as you twist and play with the magic, coaxing it to unfurl from the cabinet. Click.

Your eyes flutter open at the sound, and you find the drawer cracked open. A toothy grin stretches across your face as you grab the singular folder lying within. However, your smile drops instantly as you page through the contents: log after log of Eris’s whereabouts, finances, and even his smokehounds’ patrol patterns. Thankfully there’s nothing here that links Eris to the Night Court, but Beron knows about his monthly visits to the Spring Court. He knows his son is up to something. And if he finds out what, then…

Thunderous footsteps in the hallway break your train of thought. Your face pales, and you hastily shove the folder back inside the cabinet. Your hands tremble as you quickly put the ward back into place. Just as the lock of the drawer clicks, so does the blood red door swing open. 

You stand, frozen, as you stare into the cold, dark eyes of the High Lord of the Autumn Court. His lips are snarled, and his presence seems to engulf the whole room, but for some reason, his gaze isn’t fixed on you. He strides forward in three thunderous steps, and you stumble backwards to the other side of the desk, shaking like a leaf. But again, he seems to look right past you as he stops in front of the drawer where you were just stood moments earlier. Every survival instinct you have seems to vanish as you stand there, waiting for him to throw you in the dungeon, or better yet, execute you on the spot. But he doesn’t so much as look in your direction as he opens the cabinet and flips through the folder. 

Is he blind? How on Earth is he not seeing you?

You glance down at your trembling hands, and the silver ring sitting snugly around your  thumb winks at you. It couldn’t be—could it?

You creep backwards towards the door, and Beron slams the cabinet shut with a huff. 

“Must be a false alarm,” he grumbles under his breath.

He marches towards you, and you scramble out of the way just in time for him to brisk by. He swings the door shut with a slam behind him, and despite being left alone in the room, relief doesn’t wash over you. 

Your legs wobble as you reel over what just happened. You should be dead, or at the very least, behind bars. But by the grace of Eris, you’re standing here unscathed, despite feeling like your heart is seconds away from giving out. You stand unmoving for a few minutes, until the shock settles enough to make your escape.

The hallway is empty, and you don’t hesitate to slink into the shadows along the walls. You try your best to remain light-footed, but you can’t creep out the way you crept in. You all but run through the house, heart still pounding in your ears. Your stomach churns as you turn a corner and find yourself in a brightly lit passage—no shadows in sight. No sneaking through this one. If you get caught running, your near escape from death will be all for nothing. So, you take a deep breath before emerging from the shadows and setting into a steady stride. You breathe in and out with each step, counting your paces until you near the end of the stretch. Almost there.

But as you turn the corner, you collide with something hard.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Eris stares down at you, wide-eyed.

Think quick, you urge yourself.

“I was just—I was just looking for a restroom, and I got lost,” you stammer.

Your tone is unconvincing. But you hope the lie is enough considering you aren’t, in fact, too far from the library he left you in.

His jaw clenches and he grips your upper arm tightly, pulling you into an alcove around the corner. You want to shrink under his scrutinizing glare, but keep your chin high.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” his tone is firm despite his hushed whisper.

Your force your lips upwards into an innocent smile, “You just scared me, that’s all.”

He purses his lips and studies you as if he can see straight through your lie. He sticks his head out into the hallway, checking to make sure you’re alone, before speaking in a low murmur, “You promised you’d be in and out.”

“I know,” you hook your pinky finger with his in an attempt to settle his unease, “I’m sorry. Really.”

His relaxes slightly into your touch, but the tension in his shoulders is still apparent.

“Let me walk you out,” he sighs, and you silently sing praises that he doesn’t press the subject further.

He pulls his hand away from yours but rests a hand against your lower back as he leads you down the hallway. You follow quietly, still on edge. Even as you exit the walls of the Forest House in favor of the chilling autumn wind, you remain silent. The two of you pass at least a dozen sentries on your journey through the courtyard, but with Eris by your side, they don’t so much as bat an eye. It isn’t until you’re at least twenty yards out of the golden gates that you halt and turn towards the crimson-haired man beside you.

“I really am sorry,” you blurt, “I didn’t mean any harm.”

His lips curl into a soft smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“I’m not angry with you, Little Bird,” his voice is warm, but holds a certain harshness as he continues, “But you must think me a fool if you believe I can’t sniff out a lie when I hear one.”

Your cheeks flush and you divert your gaze to the ground beneath you. Intermix lies with half-truths, if needed. He’s privy to others deceiving him, Azriel’s voice rings through your mind. You twist the ring around your thumb in thought before raising your hand, the silver glistening brightly underneath the beating sun. 

“What is this?” you deadpan, gesturing to the ring on your finger.

His eyes harden and his soft smile dips down, “I take it you met my father?”

“I ran into him in the hallways,” you speak with conviction this time to conceal your lie, “And I wasn’t looking for the washroom. I wanted to surprise you in your chambers, and I thought I could find my way there on my own.”

He scans your face as he mulls over your response. To your relief, he seems to take the bait.

“It’s something I picked up during the war on Hybern,” he finally answers your question, “When adorned, the wearer becomes invisible to any High Lord’s gaze.”

 Your lips part as you study the shining piece of jewelry on your thumb. You move to slide it off and return it, but his hand wraps around yours.

“I told you I want you to keep it,” he affirms. You open your mouth to protest, but he changes the subject before you get a chance, “When will I see you again?”

Your height weighs heavy, but you force on a playful smile, “Bold of you to assume I want to see you again.”

He matches your teasing tone, “Bold of you to lie again.”

You roll your eyes, but your grin betrays you.

“Tonight?”

His eyebrows shoot up and his grin widens, “So eager to see me again, aren’t you darling?”

Your eyes narrow into a glare, “I can always occupy myself with my filthy little romance novels,” you drawl.

“It would be cruel of me to leave you imagining my head between your thighs when I can show you the real thing,” he stalks closer to you with a wide-mouthed smirk, “Meet me here after nightfall. I’ll send you a signal when I’m ready.”

A red tint crawls up your neck at his sinful insinuation. Refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered, you raise your lips to his ear and whisper lowly, “’Till we meet again.”

Before he can respond, you winnow away in a flash. The dust-filled cabin greets you. You don’t bother discarding your boots or coat as you pace by the fire. What the hell do you do now? Telling Eris what you found in Beron’s office would mean blowing your cover, effectively ending your mission. But not telling him would mean putting him in danger. You run shaky fingers through your hair, pulling tightly at your roots as if the pain will give you some sort of answer. 

You tug desperately at your connection with Rhys, screaming down through the cobblestone tunnels of your mind. Your patience is wearing thin, and the walls of the cabin seem to shrink in closer with each pacing step. 

Are you okay?

Finally, Rhys’s voice chimes through and you feel like you can breathe again.

I found something, you skip the niceties, in Beron’s office.

You can hear the frown in his voice as he replies, I thought I told you to stay far, far away from him.

You roll your eyes and choose to ignore his chastising, Do you want to hear what I found or not?

Obviously, he quips, irritation clearly laced in his tone.

Beron knows Eris is up to something, you cut straight to the point, I’m unclear on the extent of his knowledge—I had to get out of there before I could really comb through it all. But he knows Eris is sneaking around behind his back.

There’s a prolonged pause, and you hold your breath as you wait for Rhys’s response.

That’s it?

Your eyes widen in incredulity, and you hiss over the connection, What do you mean ‘that’s it’? Eris is in danger.

I mean that’s not our problem to deal with, and your job is to dig up information on Eris, not Beron.

The nonchalance in his voice makes your blood boil.

It most certainly is our problem if Beron is out for blood. If he makes a move against Eris before Eris gets to him, not only is our alliance with Autumn shot, but so is Prythian stuck with Beron as High Lord for another eternity.

You don’t attempt to hide the distress in your voice—even if you risk revealing more than you intend about your feelings towards the Autumn Court heir. 

You’re right, Rhys reluctantly replies.

You head lulls back in relief, I know I am. 

I’ll have Cassian tip Eris off when they next meet in Spring, Rhys decides.

You frown. Cassian and Eris meet on a monthly basis in the Spring Court, and if you remember correctly, they aren’t due to meet again until you leave Autumn.

You need to inform him sooner, you argue, What if Beron makes a move before then?

If we tip him off now, that may very well expose you. And my first priority is your safety, not the sly bastard’s.

Much to your displeasure, Rhys’s tone is firm and leaves no room for discussion. 

Fine, you bitterly relent.

You raise the cobblestone barriers of you mind before he can reply. You know it’s childish and rude, but right now, you couldn’t care less. You were already on edge, and now your mood has been soured even further. 

“Stupid High Lords,” you grumble while kicking the dust underneath your feet, “What ever happened to democracy?”

Democracy hasn’t existed in Prythian in at least a millennia. But that doesn’t stop you from fantasizing about a world in which it does—a world void of archaic classist ideologies, misogyny, and most importantly, pompous High Lords who have a stick so far up their ass they can’t see straight. You lay on your bed, still fully clothed, and stare up the ceiling as you immerse yourself in your imaginary land. Maybe it could be ruled by females—warriors like the Valkyries. Education would be a universal right. A soft smile tugs at your lips at the thought of it. Maybe you could work teaching younglings, fae and humans alike, the works of Tydeus and his scholarly counterparts. Or maybe you’d be a scholar yourself, travelling from territory to territory, documenting the lives of each kind of resident because everyone’s story deserves to be told.

Anxiety still grips you like a vice—but dwelling on it would be futile. So, you close your eyes and keep building your dream wor;d. And for just a moment, you let yourself slip away from the harsh reality of your predicament.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Meet me after nightfall, he said, I’ll send you a signal, he said.

Night has fallen. It fell nearly four hours ago, in fact. And as the clock nears midnight, there’s still no signal in sight. 

You’ve been trying your best to busy yourself—folding clothes, reading, tending to the fire. But with each minute that ticks by, your patience thins and your worry grows. He’s probably still wrapped up in whatever business he has. But after your revelation in Beron’s office that morning, you can’t help but picture a grimmer scenario. 

As the long hand of the clock passes the 12, your resolve crumbles. You hastily pull on your boots and drape a cloak over your shoulders. Before you can talk yourself out of it, the world twists and folds and you find yourself in the spot outside the golden gates where you left him earlier that day.

It’s deadly silent, the only sound coming from the large oak trees rustling against the wind. The stars twinkle bright above, giving you some source of light as you scale the area. You keep quiet, eyes and ears alert for any sign of life. 

A sinister feeling rolls through your gut. Something’s wrong. You’re not sure how, or why, but you can sense it—clear as the night sky in Velaris.

You calmly approach the golden gates, chin held high as the sentries come into view. They look over you in a scrutinizing manner, but don’t make any movement to stop you as you pass underneath the glistening arch. Once through, you conceal yourself in the shadows as you scale the courtyard and head towards the closest entry to Eris’s chambers.

The moment you enter the Forest House, the sinking feeling in your stomach grows. You make quick work of the stairwells and hallways, moving swiftly but remaining in the shadows to avoid detection. This time, the image of Azriel’s map doesn’t guide you—rather, your body moves on its own accord, as if being tugged along by some otherworldly force. Your steps falter as you approach the oak doors of Eris’s private chambers. You slip out of the shadows and press an ear to the door. All you can hear is the crackling of a fire, and so with trembling hands, you slowly twist the door open.

Your heart breaks at the sight before you.

All you see is red. It burns bright ruby in the embers of fire. It flows deep crimson in the locks of his hair. And it bleeds angry scarlet from the skin of his back.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

His voice is almost unrecognizable. He sits crouched in front of the fire; head slumped. His limbs are limp, shoulders heaving in shuddered breaths. And his back faces you, displaying a tunic so bloodied, you can barely see its eggshell white color.

“Leave,” he croaks.

But you can’t. You can’t move. You can’t breathe. All you can do is stare at the violence of the red. Everywhere.

His head cranes to the side, and your eyes meet his. Gone is bright amber. They are cruel—handcrafted by the wicked of the world.

“Are you deaf?” he snarls, “Get out. Now.”

His cold gaze returns to the fire. Despite the malice of his tone, you creep forward slowly, as if approaching a wild animal. As you walk closer, you can see the slash marks more vividly. You can see how the fabric of his shirt splits around each slice, count the number of marks on his back. He’s trembling. With rage or pain, you’re not sure—perhaps both. And as you approach his side, you can see how he holds his hands over the blazing flames. It’s reminiscent of your burn and pull away game. But he never pulls away. 

You crouch down beside him on your knees, facing his side. But his gaze is unmoving from the flames. His jaw clenches tightly as you study his profile. Up close you can see the swelling around his eyes, the dried tear tracks on his cheeks. Your own eyes water but you refuse to let them fall. Instead, you reach your arms out to his. You move slowly to avoid startling him, and he doesn’t stop you as you gently wrap your hands around his wrists. The fire burns hot against your skin, but you grit your teeth through the pain. 

He allows you to gently guide his hands away from the flames. You intertwine your fingers with his and rub his knuckles soothingly even as his hands lie limp in your grip. His head remains trained towards the fire, and you can see the reflection of the flames dancing in his golden irises. You lower your head reverently to his hands and brush your lips against them. You place a delicate kiss on each knuckle—as if doing so can take away just a little bit of his agony. Just as you think he may relax into your touch, he snatches his hands out of your grip.

Eris rises abruptly, hissing at the pain, and braces himself with one arm against the wall. He glares down at you.

“I told you to fucking leave,” he bellows. But you don’t so much as flinch at his harsh tone. Instead, you rise from the ground in front of him.

“No,” you speak with conviction, but maintain a gentle tone.

His jaw shifts, “I’ll call for my guards.”

“No, you won’t,” you retort.

He’s furious—you can surmise that much. But his cold exterior is slipping, and you’ll be here to catch him when he falls.

“Wipe that pathetic look off your face,” he sneers, “I can’t stand it.”

“I’m sorry,” you reply simply.

His façade cracks. For just a moment, you can see the anguish hidden beneath his glaring eyes. His hand slips down the wall, and he grunts as he pushes himself back up. But his body is trembling, his legs shaking. You lurch forward just in time.

You loop your arms around his neck, careful not to graze any of his wounds, and encourage him to lean his body weight onto you. With a shaky breath, Eris succumbs to your touch and rests his head in the crook of your neck. His arms wrap loosely around your body to stabilize himself.

You can feel his eyes shut tight against your skin, and you gently stroke your fingers through his hair. He slowly tightens his grip around your waist, his hands fisting the fabric of your dress, until he gives into your comfort completely. You stand there for a while holding him, each of you afraid to be the first to speak.

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” he mumbles into your shoulder.

You continue threading your fingers through his locks, “I know. But I’m here.”

His grip around you tightens. You know he’ll need to lie down soon, but you don’t want to push him.

“Let me help you,” you whisper.

He shakes his head, “You can’t,” he pauses before adding, “Faebane.”

You surmised as much. But that doesn’t stop the nausea at the far too vivid image of his torture. 

“Allow me to try. Please.”

He doesn’t say anything for a while. But after a few beats of silence, he grunts and lifts his head from your shoulder. You don’t miss the wince he tries to hide at the movement. He doesn’t protest as you wrap his arm around your shoulder and tug him in the direction of the bed. He leans his weight against you and allows you to guide him slowly. He grits his teeth with each step, but doesn’t so much as whimper at the shooting pain. Sweat beads on his forehead, and he nearly cries in relief when you reach the bed. He slumps down on his stomach and turns his head to the opposite wall, so he doesn’t have to look at you.

You stare down at the man before you, and hastily wipe away the tear that trails down your cheek. He looks…broken. You desperately want to march into Beron’s office and kill him yourself. But you take a deep breath, forcing yourself to maintain your composure. He flinches as you rest your hands at the bottom of his tunic, gripping it softly.

“May I?” you ask.

He nods reluctantly against the pillow.

You take a deep breath to brace yourself before ripping the fabric and sliding it off his body. You swallow your gasp as you lay your eyes on his bare back. At least a dozen angry red slashes cover the expanse of skin. They are raised, surrounded in half-dried blood. It’s clear that whatever torture device his miserable excuse for a father used was laced with Faebane, as they show no signs of healing. 

Eris shudders as you run a finger along the side of one of the wounds, careful not to press too hard or touch the affected area directly. You can’t heal him with the generous amount of Faebane. But you may be able to take the pain away.

The room is silent aside from the crackling fire as you hover your hands over his back and shut your eyes. You empty your mind and focus on your fingertips. You imagine tendrils of bright light extending, curling around each wound and stroking it with a gentle touch. You picture your mother—how she used her healing hands long ago to take away your pain when you cracked your head against the staircase banister as a youngling. You remember her soft touch, which in and of itself soothed your anguish. And then, you evoke an image of Eris. You focus on the strong bridge of his nose, the crinkle of his eyes when he laughs, the freckles on his skin. 

A moan of relief fills the otherwise silent room, and your eyes snap open. Eris’s features are relaxed—a stark contrast to the look of agony they held moments ago. 

“Better?” you ask softly.

He nods, his chapped lips parted. 

“Do you have a washroom?” you ask.

He blindly points an arm to the back left corner of the room.

The elegance of his bathroom doesn’t even register in your mind as you hastily grab several washcloths and wet them with warm water before returning to the bed. Eris hasn’t moved an inch.

“I’m going to clean them, if that’s alright,” you speak clearly.

He nods silently again.

The bed creaks underneath you as you sit on the edge and begin to work on his wounds. Even though he can no longer feel pain, you still take great care to clean each area carefully as to not further irritate the skin. With the mess of blood gone from his back, you can clearly see each laceration. They’re deep—painfully so—but once the Faebane wears off, you figure they should heal quickly. 

“All done,” you set the bloodied rags aside and stroke your hand soothingly down his side. 

He sluggishly turns over but still doesn’t meet your eye, even as he lays with his back on the bed. You remain seated on the edge, not wanting to cross any more boundaries than you already have.

“Where did you learn to do that?” he asks quietly, his eyes trained on the fire across the room.

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth. You knew the question was coming. And with the heavy emotions weighing on you, you can’t bring yourself to lie.

“A gift from my mother,” you reply, “She was of the Day Court, gifted with limited healing powers.”

He hums, “What was she like—your mother?”

Your lips curl into a soft smile and you kick off your boots so you can rest your feet on the bed.

“She was warm. Like a crackling hearth,” you roll the ring around your thumb, “Smart as a whip. I think in another life, she would’ve been a renowned scholar.”

His lips twitch upwards, but his eyes are solemn.

“Why wasn’t she?” he asks.

Because her life was stripped away by a cruel male who unknowingly impregnated her, you think.

 “Because she loved being a mother more,” you reply.

He nods in understanding. Silence fills the air again, but this time, it isn’t suffocating. You divert your gaze to the fire, watching how the flames move together in a coordinated waltz.

“I’m sorry,” Eris croaks, “For snapping at you.”

You turn your head, eyes wide with surprise. For the first time since you first entered the room, his gaze is trained on you. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight. Their amber hue is magnificent. Even with the sorrow they hold, you wish to be bathed in the golden, bright as the sun, for the rest of your days. 

“Your eyes are breathtaking,” you whisper in response.

The golden resembles honey as his lips stretch into a soft smile. He shifts over slightly, beckoning you to come closer. You tentatively crawl forward and lie a few feet away from him, but he pulls you against his chest. You rest your head in the crook of his arm, sinking into his touch.

“They’re my mother’s,” he muses.

“What’s she like?” you use his own question against him.

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “When I was young, she was bright—like the sun. But she’s…dimmed since then,” he diverts his gaze to the ceiling and wets his lips before continuing, “Autumn is beautiful, in all its colors. But people often forget how unforgiving its harsh winds can blow.”

You purse your lips as you mull over his words. You shift in his hold so you lay on your side, facing him. You’ve always longed to trace the bridge of his nose, the sharp cut of his jawline. And this time, you don’t stop yourself.

“Have you ever thought about leaving?” you ask while dusting your fingers over his freckles.

“Many times,” he mumbles, eyes fluttering at your delicate touch.

“Why don’t you?” you run your finger down the tip of his nose.

He catches your hand in his, resting it against his chest. You suck in a breath as he shifts, turning his head to face you. 

“Even in all its cruelty, this is my home,” he rasps, “You haven’t seen the wickedness I’m capable of. I wasn’t made to fly free like you, Little Bird.”

He wears a soft smile, but the sadness lingering beneath the mask is hauntingly beautiful. 

“It’s only in darkness that we see the brightest stars,” you barely speak above a whisper.

His forehead falls against yours, and you melt into his touch. 

“You’re too good for me, Little Bird. I can’t give you the life you want—the life you deserve,” his lips brush yours as he speaks.

You furrow your brows, “You don’t know what I want.”

His nose bumps yours, “And what is it that you want?”

A hurricane of emotion crashes over you. As you look into the golden of his eyes, you feel everything all at once—the fear, the confusion, the guilt, and most overwhelming of them all, love.

“I want you.”

It’s Love that surges you forward. It’s Love you hope he feels as you connect your lips to his. For the first time in your life, it’s Love that takes you over completely.

“I want you,” you repeat against his mouth, “Darkness and all its shining stars.”

It’s slow, but filled with a passion unlike any you’ve shared with him before. It’s salty—from his tears or yours, you’re not sure. And as your lips slide against his, you breathe a life into each other you never knew was missing before.

He raises himself from the bed and cages you between his elbows, his lips never leaving yours. You tangle your hands into his hair as he slides his tongue along your bottom lip, deepening the kiss. As he lifts you up and fiddles with the zipper at the back of your dress, you are reminded of the wounds on his back.

“You need to rest,” you gasp against his mouth, “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I don’t care,” he mumbles as he drags down the zipper at an agonizingly slow pace.

Any semblance of logic leaves your mind as he drags the fabric down your body. He disconnects his lips from yours and you arch into his touch as he reattaches them to your neck. He makes quick work of your bra as he trails open-mouthed kisses down your neck. Your mouth parts in a silent gasp as he wraps his lips around your nipple, flicking over the other with his thumb. He takes his time, worshipping every dip, every curve of your body. The arousal pooling between your legs is almost too much as he switches his mouth over to your other breast.

“Take me,” you gasp, “Mark me,” he toys with the band of your panties, “Have me,” he pulls the material down, “I’m yours.”

He groans against your breast before removing his mouth and licking his swollen lips, “You can’t say those things to me, Little Bird.”

“I mean it,” the hand trailing up your quivering thigh pauses, “I want you. All of you.”

He rises so your eyes are level with his, his hand still inches from where you need him most. He searches your face for any sign of hesitation—but there’s none.

“Are you sure?”

You grab his face and pull his lips down to yours. He shudders at your wordless affirmation but moves his lips against yours with a fervor you’ve never felt before. As his tongue swipes into your mouth, so does his hand continue upwards. You whimper as drags his middle finger through your slick, teasing your entrance before sinking in. Your eyes flutter shut as he curls it inside you, using his thumb to rub circles on your clit. You struggle to keep up with his kiss as he pumps his finger in you, stimulating the most intimate part of your body. Just as you fall back into rhythm, he works a second finger inside you. You mewl and tug harder on the hair at the nape of his neck. He rests his forehead against yours as his fingers stretch you out, his thumb continuing its ministrations against your clit. You feel the coil tightening in your gut, the unbridled pleasure building rapidly. 

You grip his bicep, squeezing it slightly, “I need you inside of me. Please.”

You gasp as he curls his fingers once more before pulling them out. Your body involuntarily chases after his touch, but he doesn’t give you a second to process the loss as he reconnects his lips to yours. Your hands tremble with need as you hastily work on the fastenings of his pants, eagerly pushing them down. You palm him through his underwear as he shoves the material off his legs. He moans into your mouth as you dip a hand underneath, wrapping your hand around his hardened length. You can feel him pulsing with need under your fingers as you stroke him. You retreat as he shoves the last bit of material down his legs, a sigh of relief escaping his lips as he frees himself completely. 

Eris braces himself with both arms above you and your heart thrums in your chest as he stares down at you.

“You’re sure you want this, Little Bird?” he asks.

Your doe eyes are wide with need, “I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.”

“You tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” he whispers as he nudges your thighs further apart.

You nod and wrap your arms around him, careful not to touch the wounds on his back. He runs his tip through your soaking folds, and you jolt at the sensation. You brace yourself on his shoulders as he lines himself up with your entrance. Your lips part in a silent gasp as he pushes just his tip in. He presses his nose to yours with a heavy groan, but doesn’t move as you adjust to the foreign stretch. 

“Keep going,” you gasp.

He peppers kisses along your jawline as he inches in further. Your toes curl at the burning stretch, your nails digging into his shoulders. 

“I need you to breath for me,” he mumbles against your jaw.

You didn’t even realize you were holding your breath as you force yourself to exhale, eyes squinting as he shifts inside you. You cry out as he pushes in another inch, and he rests his forehead against yours once more.

“Talk to me, Bird,” he mumbles.

“It hurts,” you gasp, “But keep going.”

His eyes don’t leave yours as he pulls out slightly before pushing back in. He inches in further which each shallow thrust, and you slowly become accustomed to the stretch.

“Feels better now,” you gasp as he sinks in a bit more.

“Just a little more,” he coos, thumb stroking your cheek soothingly.

You think you might implode as he pushes in completely, his hips meeting yours. He releases a guttural groan as he bottoms out. You’ve never felt so full, and you’re sure you’re adding new wounds to his shoulder with how hard your nails are digging in.

“How does it feel?” his voice is strained as he reins in the instinct to pound you into oblivion.

“So full,” you whimper.

He catches the tear that trails down your cheek with his thumb.

“Is it okay if I move?” he asks gently.

You nod and wrap your legs around his hips to brace yourself. He hooks one arm underneath your thigh, steadying you before drawing back slightly and pushing back in. You moan in unison at the feeling, your walls squeezing him like a vice.

“Do it again,” you gasp.

His hips move again in a shallow thrust, and although the burn hasn’t subsided completely, it’s now accompanied by a budding pleasure in your gut. He reconnects his lips to yours, swallowing your gasp as he pulls out almost completely before sinking back in.

“Faster, Eris, please,” you moan into his mouth.

He shudders at the way you say his name, eagerly fulfilling your request as he slowly accelerates his pace. You whine with each roll of his hips, completely enamored with the way he fits into you so perfectly.

He reaches a hand down between you and you cry out as he uses his fingers to stimulate your clit. His thrusts never falter, and you relish in the sound of his skin slapping against yours each time he bottoms out. 

“You were made for me, darling,” he mumbles against your mouth, “The way your cunt just sucks me in.”

He raises your leg slightly, the new angle allowing him to hit you even deeper. The pressure in your gut builds with each thrust, and you feel your high rapidly approaching as he flicks your clit even faster.

“’M so close, Eris,” you groan into his mouth, barely able to keep your lips sliding against his.

He moves with a newfound vigor, latching his lips against your neck.

“Let go for me, love,” he coaxes, grunting at the way your walls spasm around him.

He flicks your nipple with his free hand, and that’s all it takes for you to find your release. You all but scream as you reach your high, clutching tightly onto his hair as waves of pleasure roll through you. His teeth press into your neck as his pace falters, and he bottoms out again before spilling into you. His groan is even louder than yours as he keeps rolling his hips, riding through both of your orgasms. Your vision spots and you feel like you’re floating as you come down from the peak of your high, falling limp beneath him. He slumps against you, pressing your body further into the mattress. With his weight on top of you and his softening cock still inside you, you’ve never felt more alive.

You stay like this for a while, reveling in the aftermath of your orgasms, until the lust-filled fog raises and the soreness between your thighs registers. He pulls out slowly, and you wince at the overstimulation. He raises his head from your neck and places a sweet kiss on your lips before flopping down beside you, exhaustion finally kicking in.

You lazily drape an arm over his stomach and nuzzle your head into the crook of his shoulder. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you even closer, and places a kiss on the top of your head. 

“How was that, Little Bird?” he mumbles into your hair.

You open your mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. There are no words that could do justice to the feeling of pure, unadulterated bliss consuming you. You can feel him smiling against your head as you struggle to speak.

“I don’t think I can ever read my filthy little romance novels again,” you blurt, rather ineloquently.

His chest rumbles with barking laughter, and you can’t help but giggle at the sound.

“Don’t be discouraged,” he grins, “I’m sure we can incorporate your little books into the bedroom in a way that’ll truly leave you speechless.”

You flush at the insinuation, but swiftly reply, “If we’re already planning for next time, then I’d like to be involved in that discussion.”

“Oh?” he muses, “And what is it that you’d like next time, Little Bird?”

You hum in thought, tracing shapes along his abdomen. You peek up at him from his shoulder, and find his eyes already trained on you.

“I could feel you reigning yourself in,” you purr, “Maybe next time you should let go.”

“If I let go then you won’t be walking for a week,” he caresses the dip of your waist.

You nip at his nose teasingly, “I think I’d be perfectly content staying in this bed for a week.”

He takes a steadying breath, and you smirk at the effect you so clearly have over him.

“One day, Little Bird,” he kisses the tip of your nose, “One day I’ll absolutely ruin you.”

You grin and nuzzle your head back into his shoulder, “Sounds like a plan.”

You lay like this, wrapped up in each other’s embrace, for a while. No words are shared, and the only sound filling the room is the crackling of the fireplace. You hope your touch conveys all that you can’t say.

“Thank you,” he whispers after a few beats of silence.

Déjà vu surges over you. You remember the first time you laid beside him—how little, and how much, has changed since then.

You echo his words from that night, “Never thank me.”

You want to say more. You want to tell him everything you feel. You want to open the book of your mind, let him read every single footnote in the story of your life. But there’s so much to say, you wouldn’t even know where to start. So instead, you settle for the words on the very tip of your tongue.

“My brightest star,” you hum, placing a kiss on his ear.

He strokes his thumb along your shoulder, “If I’m the stars, then you’re the moon.”

You smile into his skin, and your eyes flutter shut. Between the comfort of his touch and the whirlwind of a night you’ve had, you find yourself unable to keep exhaustion at bay. 

As you drift from consciousness, there’s no Rhys nagging in the back of your mind. No sister to beg for forgiveness. No dead mother, no cruel father. There’s just Eris.

And for the first time in your life, you feel peace.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Throughout Eris’s long, miserable existence, Pain has been a constant.

It sings in the tortured cries of those who have wronged him. It swims in the eyes of his mother, a shell of the woman she used to be. It bleeds from his skin, with each lash he’s earned from his father.

 It’s Pain that wakes him, yanks him from his fleeting escape from reality.

He hisses at the feeling of silken sheets rubbing against the fresh wounds littered across his back. He moves to push himself up, but pauses at the weight on his chest. When he looks down, Pain vanishes momentarily.

Somehow, you’re even more breathtaking in your sleep. Your cheek is pressed up against his shoulder, arm draped over his stomach. You look so innocent like this, and he wishes the image to forever be imprinted in his memory.

Just as suddenly as it vanished, Pain returns.

He shifts slowly, wincing as he slides out from underneath you. Your head falls against the pillow and your gentle breaths falter, but you don’t stir. Eris grits his teeth as he pushes himself up so he’s seated, his back against the headboard. The cool wood is soothing against his burning skin. He knows that sleep won’t come to him, now that Pain has arrived again. So instead, he indulges himself in you.

Guilt washes over him as he watches how your bare shoulders rise and fall with each breath. He’s selfish for indulging himself in you when he knows he can’t have you. He knows it will have to end soon—before you can fall victim to the tragic fate of Vanserra women.

Eris is just thankful you haven’t realized the shimmering thread of gold tying you to him yet.

He was sure the bond would snap into place for you tonight. Shame pools in his gut as he realizes how badly he wanted it to snap in place for you. In all his selfish desires, there’s nothing he wants more than to call you his. But by some grace of the Mother herself, you’re still blissfully unaware of your mate. 

Since the night of the Equinox, the night when you were wearing that sinful little red number, he’s spent hours on end reading about mating bonds. Much to his disappointment, he’s yet to find anything on how to sever them. But he’s learned two things.

The first is that mating bonds don’t always snap into place for both parties at the same given moment in time. And when they don’t, it’s statistically more likely for males to feel that shining thread of gold first.

The second, and the one that puzzles him right now, is that if the bond doesn’t snap into place immediately, it does when you’ve realized your feelings for your other half, at the peak of your vulnerability. With the…the rawness of how you spoke to him tonight, of how you gave yourself to him entirely, he couldn’t imagine a moment where you could be more vulnerable to the bond’s hold over you.

His fingers ghost over your hair, which looks resembles a halo around your head, as he mulls over the possible explanations. Perhaps the bond is one-sided, and it just won’t snap into place for you. He hasn’t found any literature on this, but if human can be made Fae, then surely nothing is impossible. Alternatively, it’s possible the bond didn’t snap into place because you weren’t wholly vulnerable—because you were holding something back.

 Just as that thought crosses his mind, so does your body shift, exposing a bit of black ink on your side. Eris pauses his stroking movements and his brows cinch together. He doesn’t remember you having a tattoo—and with how many times he’s seen, touched, imagined your naked body, he’d surely remember it. A lump grows in his throat, and against his better judgment, he reaches forward and tugs the sheets down your body.

The cold heart you were just beginning to warm freezes over entirely as he lays eyes on the Night Court insignia inked beside your breast. He rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, making sure his imagination isn’t playing tricks on him.

But the only one playing tricks is you.

His jaw clenches so tightly that it might break as he brushes over the marking with his thumb. Behind the Illyrian Mountain lies a shining sun—symbolic of the Day Court, he pieces together.

Morrigan’s big, brown eyes. Your ability to appear out of nowhere, as if emerging from the shadows. All the questions about his family, his business dealings. Lurking around the halls of the Forest House. Your penchant for ancient literature unbecoming of a regular merchant’s daughter.

Bile rises in his throat as everything hits him all at once. He snatches his hand away from your body, as if you’re poisonous to the touch. Eris scrambles to the side of the bed and heaves, but nothing comes out. He squints his eyes shut and tugs harshly at the roots of his hair.

He’s a fool. A fool for not realizing it before, for being so entranced by your allure that he didn’t see what was so obviously sitting right in front of him. A fucking fool for thinking that someone could love him, so unequivocally.

You’ve had him wrapped around your finger this whole time—pinpointing his weaknesses and using them to your advantage. You’re no better than he is. No better than Beron. No better than your pathetic gang of friends in Velaris. 

Worst of all, you are the darkness you speak so fondly of. 

Pure, unbridled rage bubbles in the pit of his stomach. Red hot fire surges from his fingertips, and he knows if he doesn’t move away from you he’ll burn the whole house down until only ashes are left.

So, he finds himself back in front of the fireplace, his hands dancing with the flames, with only Pain to keep him company. And as he stares into the burning embers, he decides his next move. If you want to play him like a pawn, then so be it. He’ll just have to take your queen.

taglist:

@lilah-asteria @goldenmagnolias @myromanempiree @i-know-i-can @hannzoaks @olive-main @lilylilyyyyyy @batboygirlie @stuff-i-found-while-crying @moni-cah @6000-fandoms @melsunshine @roseodelle @rcarbo1

[arijackz]

PICK A CARD: What Era Is Your Beauty From?

☯︎ “A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.” ― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. I am not suggesting any of these descriptions are cannon to your ancestral history, these are just how my intuition perceived, and then presented your beauty’s energy.

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

🂽 Pile One 🂽 (the devil, 2oC rev., ace of cups rev., 4oW, 3oC, king of swords, the tower, the world)

❖ Pile one, I feel like I’m watching the Game of Thrones out of context. Just flashes of people from around the Medieval 1400s living their day-to-day; singing, dancing, eating together, and then… not.

❖ The imagery I got when I asked what era your beauty came from, was very longing in nature. There was a lot of joy and celebration but it felt like I was watching the film through teary eyes and a heavy heart.

❖ The “movie” flashed between a thriving culture sharing tales of triumph and having happy, drunk sing-song moments together; and then those same people under a war-torn regime of a very cruel but powerful man. I sense themes of religious persecution, nationwide government-forced famine, and general desecration of the once-peaceful way of life. The population was going through collective mourning.

❖ People lamented over their unfulfillable desire to reconnect with their homeland and all of their loved ones. With the World card at the end of the spread and the Empress at the bottom of the deck, I get the clear image that your beauty is the physical embodiment of a large collective’s longing for the sanctity of their community. You invoke that feeling people get when they remember a bitter-sweet memory that hums fervor in their chest and gives them the fire they need to push forward.

❖ Your beauty comes from an era where the genuine smile and cheer of a pretty girl sparked a nation’s hope for reformation. You are the last remaining connection to long-lost celebration and the heart of a forgotten city.

How Do You Paint The Divine Image of Hope?

🂽 Pile Two 🂽 (7oC rev., 4oP rev., full moon, leo, sacral chakra)

❖ WHOOOAAaaaaa Ammberrr is the collluuhhhhh of ya enneergyyy!! WHOoaaA, shades of gaawwllddd displayyy naturraalllyyyyyy…..

❖ Just know I was HOLLERING that. This is my hippie pile. My people. Yea that’s right, I’m talking the late 1960s - early 1970s.

❖ Your beauty arose at a time when society desperately needed color (specifically seeing some of you wearing a lot of bright colors or eye-catching jewelry or hairstyles). The world was bleak and the war’s aftermath on the overall mental and emotional welfare of the general public pushed people to radical ideals and birthed a revolution centered around liberation, pleasure, and community.

❖ Your beauty is all sunshine and rainbows. Psychedelics and organic food. The best music in human history (feel free to argue with me, but know that it is going straight out the other ear, mama) and week-long outdoor festivals full of peace, love, and vulnerability with total strangers.

❖ Your beauty brushes people with the chilling winds of shameless pleasure. The taste of unadulterated personal freedom that is almost a societal taboo. Your beauty is so purely liberating.

❖ Lmao, I imagine a guitar riff going off everytime you walk into a room.

❖ You are the physical embodiment of eccentric love and vivacious rebellion.

Play That Funky Music

🂽 Pile Three 🂽 (The lovers rev., the High Priestess rev., Ace of Swords., 4oC. 7)

❖ Revolution is a running theme for all of the piles. This collective’s beauty awakens people.

❖ I’m seeing a brilliant man going mad at the lack of creative intelligence around him and pushing for societal rebirth. A complete cultural shift from the Dark Ages (pile one), to modernity. This is my Renaissance pile.

❖ You embody the mystical fusion of art, religion, architecture, and science. You are all the world’s intrinsic beauty rolled up into one figure. You are the art that attracts painters, inventors, and philosophers alike.

❖ You have the beauty of an all-around muse. You invoke the spirit of creative passion. It is like people see you and get a stroke of inspiration. Something that kicks them in the ass and tells them to go outside and create.

❖ This pile is very romantic. A classical beauty, like red roses and bottle poems. The universal innate desire to dream big.

❖ Shoutout to my Aquarians, 11th housers, and Shatabhisha natives.

The Medieval-Modern Muse

🂽 Pile Four 🂽 (king of pentacles, 2oP, 5oP rev., 9oP)

❖ OKAY PLOTWIST?? I don’t know what era this pile’s beauty is from because it’s set in the future.

❖ It’s funny how the last piles were all set in periods of revolution (putting in the WORK) and your pile, the final pile, is set in a better world full of financial stability, the end of inequality, economic fairness, and universal abundance (the fruits of the labor).

❖ Dude, I was trying to read the message at first and was just scratching my head. I was like, “When has anywhere, literally ever been this good???” Then I saw the ace of wands reversed at the bottom of the deck and saw impending change and it clicked.

❖ I also saw some star semblance, and see that your beauty is a reminder to mankind that the “impossible” is already set in motion. The hell we have created will crumble.

❖ You are a physical embodiment of society’s future triumph. You radiate wealth and fairness. My Venusians, especially Libra. You also look regal, something about you makes people want to stand taller.

❖ You got the pride card, I see that you give people the feeling of victory. You are living proof of future triumph in a better world where greed and sorrow are eradicated.

❖ You are the harbinger of the next era.

Introducing The First Titanium Man On The Moon!

[robo-writing]

Cockwarming with the MK1 boys

Kuai Liang

Cockwarming? Never heard of it.

You have to explain it before the visual clicks in his head, and it’s only then you see him nod in agreement.

Surprisingly receptive to the idea, it doesn’t take him much convincing. He enjoys the idea of close intimacy.

When would you like to start?

“Now? If you say so, little bird.”

There’s a peace that blooms in him, despite the salacious position you’re in. Hands rubbing into your bare back, nose buried into your neck as he inhales your scent, the hitch in your breath as you adjust yourself on his length.

It would be relaxing, if the feeling of your pussy wasn’t currently driving him up a wall. Everything is heightened this way, every breath making you clench against him, every movement making him shudder in bliss, a repetitive loop of sensations that keep the both of you trapped in each other’s embrace.

You move, he follows. You whimper, and he tastes the sounds on his tongue. You stay like that until you fall asleep, where he wakes up and the first thing he feels is the warmth of your cunt.

Bi-Han

Confusion is painted on his face when you tell him your idea.

Eyebrows raised, he didn’t know you to be the type to be so forward, surprised at just how eager you were.

“Hm, seems simple enough.”

At first he didn’t understand the appeal—if you wanted to have sex he could easily hold you hostage to the bed.

But fine, he would indulge you.

As it turned out you are far more creative than he gives you credit for. He might enjoy this newfound position more than he thought.

Every time you squirm, it’s another slap to your ass. The sound rings loudly in your ears, the clash of skin only dwarfed by your whimpering.

“Bi-Han, please—“ you beg, arms wrapped around his neck, scared to move anymore in fear of your husband’s wrath. “Just a little bit, I need more—“

Another hand comes down on your backside. You jump in response, then shiver when Bi-Han’s cold hands soothe the aching flesh.

“You decided the rules darling, no moving.”

You almost want to argue, but the look in his eyes freezes you in place. You’re forced to obey, shaking with anticipation for the moment Bi-Han finds you ready and fucks you like you need.

Tomas

“You want to what?”

Poor Tomas, his face turns a shade of red you’ve never seen before. He has to ask you to repeat yourself to make sure he heard you correctly.

When you do he becomes even more flustered, but it does spark a certain…curiosity.

He’s open to anything when it comes to you, and he would be a liar if he said otherwise.

As sweet as Tomas can be, it’s like he’s a different person when you’re like this—possessive, greedy even. He holds you by your ass and refuses to let go, kissing at your face when you shudder at the feeling of his cock inside you.

So big, so fucking full.

“Is this what you had in mind?” He grunts, barely stopping his hips from forcing you to bounce on his length. You can see it in his eyes, the barely-held back urge to dig his fingers into your skin and fuck you like he wants to, it’s only your pleas that keep him complacent for the time being.

You see shades of the sweet man you’ve come to love, almost overshadowed by the lust that pools in his very being. He wants to cum so bad, but more than that he wants to be good for you.

Johnny Cage

“You’re not kidding right? Please tell me it isn’t April.”

He’s over the moon, he’s actually thought about it before but was worried you wouldn’t be up for it.

But hearing you ask for it? You’ve given him far too much freedom, and you might regret that in the future.

Safe to say that it becomes his new favorite pastime.

Johnny was the one who invited you over in the first place, something about “needing to focus on his newest script.” A very obvious lie, but you suppose that hindsight is 20/20, especially where your boyfriend is concerned.

Instead of focusing on memorizing his lines, he instead memorizes what makes you tick, what buttons he has to press before you’ve become a writhing mess in his arms, how far you fall on his cock before your legs start shaking.

“Can’t help it baby,” he says, rutting into you softly. “You’re just feel too damn good.”

You almost want to beg him to fuck you, but you know him better than anyone—if Johnny says he’s going to keep you on his lap, he means it. So even if he’s barely focused on the script in his hands, you can be sure as hell you’re going to be sat on his cock until he’s had his fun.

Kenshi Takahashi

He laughs a bit, entertained at the thought.

You, sat pretty in his lap? It makes his heart beat faster.

He asks if you know what you’re getting yourself into, asking him a question like that, but your excited nod is enough of an answer for him.

“Okay then, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Kenshi feels the heat that spreads through your body, a benefit of losing his sight. He knows all your weak points, his heightened senses aware of every reaction you have to his touch.

He knows you better than you know yourself, even without sento he knows how desperate you are to move.

“This is what you wanted, right?”

He coos in your ear, tattooed hands rubbing circle against your shaking hips, a gentle squeeze reminding you to keep still. You nod in reply, but it doesn’t stop the soft noises leaving your lips.

Raiden

Turns into a shade of pink you didn’t know existed

Lost for words, it takes him a moment to register what you’ve said before responding

“Well, if you’re interested, I wouldn’t mind…”

Poor man, he doesn’t know how to express himself, but he is very on-board!

He tries his best, really he does, but how exactly is he supposed to stay still when you pulse around him so deliciously?

He knows he’s supposed to enjoy this, but being unable to move is driving him up a wall. You have to scold him like a child every time his hips try to move higher.

He stares at the ceiling, head tilted backwards in an attempt to calm down his racing heartbeat, afraid that even the sight of you will make him lose control. In, out, his breathing is labored, your voice doing nothing to quell his urges.

“Relax baby,” you say, running your fingers through his hair. “We still have the rest of the night.”

Kung Lao

You’ve never seen him smile that wide before.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

If you didn’t ask him, he would’ve. He’s just glad you saved him the effort.

The moment you two walk into the bedroom he’s pawing at your pants. He’s impatient, and can you blame him?

“Kung Lao, calm down!”

You try to plead with your boyfriend, but it goes in one ear and out the other. What was meant to be a relaxing past time is now a struggle to keep his wandering hands to himself.

“Come on, don’t you want me to touch you?” He teases. His lips find their way to your nipple, lapping at the pebbled nub while his fingers slide between the two of you.

“This wasn’t the plan,” you whine in response, unknowingly pressing yourself into his greedy fingers. “I wanted us to enjoy this…”

“And we will,” he promises, circling your clit with a twinkle in his eye. “Just want you to feel as good as possible baby.”

Liu Kang

He’s heard of the act before, but never really gave it any thought.

“You sound like you’ve thought about this often, darling.”

He can’t help but tease you a bit, but he’s completely in agreement.

When he has a moment of free time he invites you to sit on his lap, grinning when his fingers dance across your skin.

For a god, Liu Kang sure can be a tease.

In his private quarters he keeps you close to him, one of the rare moments where he has no obligations and can simply enjoy himself. You thought this would be a perfect time to act on your little suggestion, and he thought the same.

Where you erred however, is misjudging a god’s patience.

Two hours ago you eagerly stripped for your husband, and in those two hours you’ve been left teetering on the edge, every time you close your eyes for a moments peace Liu Kang finds it fit to let his fingers remind you of where you are.

A repetitive cycle with no end in sight.

Your clit throbs with an incessant need, but you’re unable to do anything except take what he gives.

Syzoth

Beg your pardon?

You literally see his pupils dilate at the thought

“Really? Are you sure?”

He has his own misgivings about the idea, still ashamed of his ancestry as a Zaterran. It took him a while to become intimate with you but this…

You assure him that this is something you want, and he eventually agrees.

You gently coax Syzoth onto the bed, making your hips flush with his. You can see the doubt begin to flood his mind, until you drag his hands from the bed and onto your body.

“There’s no rush baby,” you murmur, resting your head on his chest. “Let’s just stay like this, hm?”

You hear his heartbeat return to its natural rhythm, his hands slowly brushing against your spine. Tentative, testing the waters, as if you’d shatter if he held you too tight. As the minutes pass he becomes more comfortable with your position, the feeling of your warmth enveloping him.

“I admit, there is something very peaceful about this…” he hums. You make a noise in agreement.

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Gaze of the Moon (HOTD One-Shot)

Rhaenyra Targaryen x GN!Reader / requests are open

Summary: You and your wife, the Princess Rhaenyra steal a moment of peace together as you prepare for the coming birth of your child.

Fic type: fluff, romance, reflection

A/N: I had intended for this to be fem!reader x Rhaenyra but it wound up GN. This is also for @hotd-bigbang's March 11th prompt.

HOTD: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Did you know of that tale?" You asked softly, brushing your wife's hair back behind her ear as she lay against you in the moonlight. "About the second moon who cracked open from the heat of the sun and let the dragons out?"

Your wife let out a deep breath, the back of her skull pressing into your shoulder as she leaned back against you to peer out at the sky- up at the full moon above. She was gorgeous tonight. Radiant, round- both wife and moon.

The silver rays caught in Rhaenyra's loose hair, free tonight from tight braids and silk ribbons. The way you knew she preferred it. She'd been a wild child who'd grown into a proper lady, though you knew she yearned for the freedom of manhood. If she were a man, things would be easier. You both knew this but didn't care to dwell on it. There was no changing what was.

Rhaenyra hummed, eyes catching in the moon's gaze.

"I'm sure I remember my father telling me such a story once," she affirmed softly, lip twitching ever-so-slightly into the ghost of a smile. Your wife spent so much time stone-faced under the watchful eyes of the court vultures that even in the privacy of your own quarters she sometimes had trouble letting the cracks through. You treasured each of them like jewels as they deserved to be. "I used to stay up late into the eve and watch the moon- waiting for her to split and for the night to grow dark save for the fire of dragon's breath,' she admitted, eyes drawing closed as she thought on the memories.

"Perhaps one day, my dear wife," you said, pressing a kiss to her head before allowing your own to lean back against the cold, stone wall behind you. "Tell me, what is High Valyrian for 'moon'?"

You'd been learning her family's language for some time now, and you were certainly getting there. It was just that you preferred to hear the words from Rhaenyra's tongue. And truly, who could blame you when her voice had such royal lilt? Her voice was a balm for the mind. Or your mind, at the very least. You could listen to her speak for an age and then some.

"Hūra," Rhaenyra replied, a soft knowing smirk on her lips. You repeated it back to her, testing the syllables on your tongue. You liked the way it sounded, the way it felt. You reached a hand around her to brush over her swollen belly, round with child.

"If we have a daughter," you said thoughtfully, "Hūra is a nice name, do you not think?" Your fingers danced over her belly, and you both let out a laugh when you felt the babe kick from within her. Rhaenyra's hand joined yours, squeezing comfortingly. You hastily added, "It is not a traditional name, but I like it."

"Princess Hūra Targaryen," Rhaenrya breathed, opening her eyes to peer at her belly. "It does have a ring to it," she agreed, "and if the little one's restlessness is anything to speak of, the babe likes it, too."

You both lapsed into silence for a while, enjoying the light of the moon, the glint of the stars and the sounds of the night. It was quiet at this hour. Your favourite hour. What else could you possibly want for than this? A loving wife in your arms, a babe on the way, a flask of wine to share and the gaze of the moon on you?

"I suppose it is only fair you get to name one of our children," she said after a while. You'd almost thought her asleep in your arms with how quiet she'd been. "Why not the first. Get it out of the way, hmm?" She teased. "What if the babe is a boy?"

You chuckled softly, flicking at her arm in reply to her jape.

"Thank you, wife. Your generosity knows no bounds. I do not think the bairn is a boy, but if he is, I am quite fond of Vēzos. Best keep with the theme."

"One has to wonder where this sudden passion for celestial names has come from, my love," Rhaenyra mused. "Perhaps we will have twins. The Maester did say it was a possibility. Hūna and Vēzos. Moon and Sun-" Rhaenyra shifted uncomfortably as the babe wriggled under her skin. "I like it."

"Strong names," you added, brushing your fingers through her hair softly, aiming to detangle the few knots that caught in your fingers. "Compassionate names. Perfect for bairns destined for greatness."

You suddenly found yourself hoping for twins. A boy and a girl. Siblings to grow up together and protect each other from the horrors that lay dormant in the realm. You could picture them, age three or perhaps four, playing hide and seek in the gardens. Ages ten and four by their mothers' side on the throne. Ages nine and ten crowned joint heirs to the throne. Ages four and thirty sitting side by side on the throne. Ruling, together. Sun and Moon, over their kingdom. Their birth-right. Protecting each other and keeping each other in check. What was best for the kingdom.

The thought filled you with pride. Oh, yes, you hoped for twins. It wouldn't be long now until Rhaenyra was due. Within a month, most likely. It was part of the reason you both were staying up late at night and enjoying the peace. Once Rhaenyra commenced and completed her labours, there wouldn't be much room for peace and quiet.

And yet, you couldn't wait. You didn't like the thought of your lady-wife in pain, but the thought of your quiet chambers filled with the sounds of a babe or two growing big and strong was perhaps motivating enough for you to bear the thought of her pain. You'd be by her side no matter what, of course. Fuck the Maesters and midwives. This was your wife, your babe. You would be there to support her until she asked you to leave.

"We should retire to bed," Rhaenyra broke your thoughts as she began shifting to stand. "We both need our rest for the day to come. I believe we are making arrangements for catering after the birth."

Ah, yes. The feast the King was insisting upon for the birth of his Grand-Sire. As the birth grew closer, more plans needed to be set. Catering, colours, floral arrangements, gifts for the babe. So many things that Rhaenyra and yourself were set to arrange. You may have enjoyed setting the festivities up, but Rhaenyra would be more than happy to sit out if she could.

You hadn't told Rhaenyra yet, but you'd made arrangements with the cooks to send for the ingredients to make Rhaenyra's favourite sweets. Ones she had not had since she were near a babe herself. The rest of the food, however, you both needed to settle on. A job for tomorrow, quite clearly.

You supported her as she stood, following behind. You stretched out the muscles in your arms and legs, creaking with complaint. You could only imagine how Rhaenyra felt. You left the balcony door open to the bedchambers as you helped your wife shift out of her gown.

Once she was settled into the sheets, Rhaenyra let out a sigh of relief. The bed took the weight off her body and allowed her to settle in. You followed, pressing up against her back to keep her warm against the slight chill of the night.

Rhaenyra took your hand and rested it against her belly. You felt any of your remaining troubles melt away for the moment and pressed a kiss to the back of Rhaenyra's neck.

"Good night, my love," you whispered softly, rubbing your thumb over the silky material of her nightdress. "Sleep well, little one."

You drifted off to the sound of Rhaenyra's soft breathing and the quiet chatter of insects out in the gardens below your balcony, dreaming of the bairns to come, and a life well lived.

[pastelclovds]

Primal/predator play?

No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK Yes! | Oh god you don’t even know

(cw: CNC, sex in the woods, and amab!reader)

imagine your lover running through the woods with nothing but a tight t-shirt and their underwear, the bright shine of the full moon being their only source of light as they try to get as far away from you. it may seem like they are in deep trouble, but in reality, they want to be caught by you. they love the thrill of you chasing them as they pretend to run for their life. their arousal grows when they hear your pacing footsteps behind them. your lover spots a tree root poking out of the grass and purposely runs towards it and “trips”. making them fall onto the soft, long grass as you loom over them.

you quickly try to pin them down as they struggle for freedom, but you eventually get the better of them. they rest their face onto the ground in false defeat as one of your hands onto their arms behind their back and rip their underwear in two. your lover gasps when they felt the cold air brush against their sex. “you should’ve known better than to run into the woods.” you purr into their ear. but they spit in your face, “go to hell,” they growl under their breath. you wiped the spit off with your fingers and put them inside their hole as they let out screams and moans.

they’ve already prepped them themselves for this scene, but you just wanted to make sure it would be too painful for them. you continued to play with their hole without another word, until you pulled out your wet fingers, held onto their hips, and filled them with your cock. they let out wails of pleasure as you set a brutal pace, uncaring who or what could be watching you. after a few minutes of railing into them, your lover closed their eyes in bliss as they reached their climax.

you didn’t stop your rough thrusts, causing them to be overstimulated and their sex throbbing. they turn their tear streaked face to yours, only to see your hungry-filled eyes. “i’m not satisfied, slut,” you say with an evil grin. oh how they loved every second of you using them like a cheap toy. degrading them until they actually began to believe their only purpose was to serve you. they’ve lost count at how many times you’ve come inside them. but they couldn’t care less, all that matter was you and pleasure.