#i was too busy sleeping in and watching Throne of Blood

[whattheship]

I feel like I missed something yesterday, what the fuck is a boop?

[ms--lobotomy]

I started this when I couldn't sleep last night. Even more self-indulgent than normal. You can thank @moodymisty and @kit-williams for getting me into the funny blueberry. The fleas. The fleas. THE FLEAS-

Summary: Cato Sicarius hate fuckin'

Content Warnings: SMUT and rough smut at that, Heavy degradation kink (to the reader), Semi-public, could be seen as dubcon but it's consensual in my head, Armor kink, Unhealthy relationship (sorry to all my healthy relationship stans), blood, the use of the word "whore" to degrade, body worship (take a wild guess whose body), crying,

Image Credit: @squishyowl (I don't know whether to apologize or say you're welcome)

“Cato, where are we going?”

His response was as cold as his gauntlet on your skin. “It’s Captain Sicarius to you.”

His hand gripped your wrist, threatening to leave a nasty bruise, and you had to jog to keep up with him. Most of the Ultramarines and serfs around you seemed to mind their own business, but a few cast quick glances towards the two of you. After a while, one of the sons of Guilliman spoke up.

“Captain,” he began. “Is everything alright?”

“It is,” he replied. “Hurry along. You have better things to do.”

You watched ever so briefly as the marine absconded in the opposite direction. You had to crane your neck upwards to look at the man on your wrist. You opened your mouth to say something, but decided against it right before he stopped by a closet, one just big enough to fit a fully armored space marine.

“Is this…?”

“In,” he hissed.

He turned the doorknob and it made a click before he swung the door open, ushering you in with a hand on your back. He followed suit and swung the door shut before you could have a look around the room. Absentmindedly, he pushed a spare broom to the side.

“What—“

“Undress.”

“Did you just say—?”

“Undress.”

You sheepishly pulled your shirt over your head as you heard the hiss of him removing his helmet, the clang of it falling to the floor before the clang of another piece of armor dropping to the floor. Oh. As you pulled down your pants, a question arose.

“Captain? How am I going to find my clothes?”

You felt arms loop around you and a hand at your back unhooking your bra. Your heart skipped a beat. “We will deal with that when we deal with that.” His breath was warm against the top of your head.

Not a moment after your underwear hit the floor did you feel that familiar feeling of being pushed against the wall. You let out a slight “mmh” at the motion, your feet dangling above the ground. There was a little ledge under you, barely big enough for you to fit on with a little help. You could assume that you were at eye level with him, it was far too dark to tell. You grabbed for his armor and you could feel him recoil before he made his way back to you.

“Dirty cunt,” he spat before he pressed his lips on yours. You hadn’t time to gasp for air, air that left your lungs quickly when he grazed his teeth along your bottom lip. Your hands grasped for whatever they could find, eventually resting between his shoulders and neck.

When he finally pulled away you gasped for air, limp under him. “By the Throne, you’re pathetic,” he huffed, coming in for another kiss. Your legs squeezed together, trying to hide the mess already present between them. He pulled away soon enough, sliding a finger between your legs. Blood rushed to your face at the almost crackling sound that it made against his cold armor.

"Wet already?"

You pressed a hand to your chest, leaning forwards slightly. “Nngh… Cato…”

“Captain. Sicarius,” he commanded. “Spread your legs for me, you little whore.”

You spread them, as wide as you could. He stuck an armored finger into you and you gasped, grabbing onto his armor again. Your hands slipped on his armor, and you leaned into him.

“Quiet,” he hissed before he jammed his lips on yours again. You moaned into his mouth as his armored finger trailed along you, making you quiver underneath him. You felt your naked body press against his armor, rough against your skin. He bit down on your lower lip, drawing a little bit of blood. You felt your eyes start to wet. You tried to pull away but he grabbed you and kept you on him as you started to taste metal.

Finally, he pulled away. "You're going to leave such a mess," he grumbled as you wiped your lip. Faster than you could think, he pinned your wrists to your side and kissed your collarbone just like he'd kissed your lips--roughly and jaggedly. You felt his teeth hastily graze your skin, threatening to sink in before he sucked hard.

You pressed your lips together before you couldn't hold it in any longer. "A-ah..." you cried, his outline barely visible.

Sicarius pulled away. "Quiet down, or they'll all know how much of a whore you really are." He pressed himself lower, dangerously close to your nub. His hands moved away from your wrists towards your waist, and you ran your hands through his short, dark hair. You felt that same sucking and you cried out again before he stuffed two of his fingers in your mouth. You tasted ceramite, and the lids of your eyes lowered as you moaned into his fingers.

With his remaining hand, he took your nub between his fingers, squeezing it. "Are you going to be quiet for me?" he asked, slightly pulling on it.

You moaned into his ceramite again before he removed it with a wet pop. His hand grazed the side of your face before it trailed down to your shoulder, holding you down as you writhed underneath him. You could hear his armor shift briefly before he bit down on your nub, hard.

"C-Captain!" you exclaimed, your hands sinking into his hair. Before he could draw blood, he moved onto your other side. You pressed him into you, wrapping your legs around him.

He rose up, his form back to towering above you. "Took you long enough," he huffed before taking you off of the ledge. You took a few seconds to steady yourself, rubbing one of the spots that he bit.

"Now kneel."

"Captain...?"

"I told you to kneel."

You found yourself on your knees and you felt an armored hand on your head. Something brushed up against your face, something warm and hard. You had to turn up a little bit to reach mouth level with him.

"I want you to pleasure me."

"Okay..." you said quietly, taking him in your hand. You touched him gently, peppering kisses along him and fondling his balls. It wasn't long before you took the tip in your mouth. He grabbed the sides of your head as his hips began to gyrate, pressing himself deeper into you. Despite everything, you let out a high-pitched squeal, desperately gasping for air.

With a deep grunt, he shoved himself in deeper. You felt a tear streak down your cheek, and you wanted desperately to wipe it away but there were more pressing matters at hand. "I told you that I wanted you to pleasure me," he grunted, thrusting a few more times before he popped himself out of your mouth. You leaned over the ground, gasping for air.

"Captain..." you said between sharp breaths.

"Back on the ledge," he barked, kneeling in front of you. You felt a hand on the side of your face, his thumb barely entering your mouth.

You tried to speak, regardless. "Captain, I can barely see in here," you said, your breath evening out.

"You're too soft to be on this ship," he huffed, picking you up by your underarms and placing you back on that ledge. "It's a wonder your puny ass is still alive."

"Alright..." you said before he shifted you down a little bit. You felt him press at your entrance, holding you on him like you were nothing but a toy. You felt his breath hot on your skin, his armor cold against your legs.

"I still haven't came yet," he remarked. "I won't enter unless you beg for it."

You gulped and your wet, messy eyes widened. "...Beg?" you asked softly, your hands tracing the indents on his armor.

"You heard me."

"O-okay..." you said shakily. "I'm so desperate, Captain... I need you in me." Your hands reached out for the outline of his face, but you could barely reach him. "I need to be used. I need to be disrespected. I..." you paused, your face warm and wet. "I'm sorry, Captain. I'm just a little whore."

He chuckled. "You do realize people might hear you?" he asked as he finally pushed himself in. He didn't spend any time acclimating you to him, but that didn't stop you from going over the edge. Tears streamed down your face as you cried out, your hands balling up into fists.

"Captain!" you cried out, your eyes barely open. You cried out with every thrust, and before long, he was burying himself to the hilt before exiting again. You felt a sharp pain where he was, and you tried to speak again.

"It hurts..." you let out between moans.

"Good," he snarled, his hands enveloping your waist and slamming you onto him again and again. Your hands trailed towards his arms, the armor still cold against your skin. You came again on him, crying out as your eyes rolled back into your skull.

"Again?" he asked, keeping pace. "You're so pathetic. I can't believe I'm in a supply closet with such a... such a whore."

"I am," you said meekly. Almost as if on cue, he buried himself in you one last time and pumped you full of his seed. As he throbbed inside you, you felt his head between your shoulder and neck. The position must be at least a little uncomfortable, but you weren't going to say anything. A mix of blood and seed dripped down your leg, forming a small puddle on the floor of the closet.

"I can clean it--"

"No. I will," he huffed, setting you down. He ran a hand along your thigh, cleaning it off. You shivered under his touch again, leaning against his armor.

"Thank you," you said as he ran a hand through your hair.

"Stay here," he said. "You're going to get water."

[sunfyresrider]

The King's Wife

Aegon II Targaryen X Fem!Reader

Summary: After the miscarriage of the king’s first born child you must go through your grief alone. That is until he summons a dinner where all truths are revealed. Tags: child loss, semi toxic relationship, fluffy ending. Author’s Note: Hi anon! This is for your lovely self<3 I rewrote this like ten times I'm sorry

You loved your husband more dearly than anything in this world and he loved you all the same. It is rare that a person enjoys their betrothed let alone loves them. It was a perfect match, created by complete accident. The Hightowers needed allies, an army, and for their king to have heirs. You needed a husband, a home and a family to replace your own. Truly, it seemed impossible everything worked out so beautifully.

Until it didn’t. The old king died after your marriage, the one he did not attend. Within a week your entire world had been uprooted and torn apart. You had yet to produce an heir, but it had only been a handful of months. The Hightowers either waited too late or the king died too soon, you didn’t know which. One moment you were lying in bed peacefully with your husband, the next you were standing in the dragonpit adorned with a crown. 

The coronation was masterfully crafted to be an affair of the ages. To be remembered by all the small folk and Lords who attended, to prove Aegon was the one and only rightful heir to the throne. And you were his beloved queen. You never expected Aegon to wholly embrace his new duties, to faithfully serve the realm. In the several years you had been married he never once showed care for any of it. Obviously, there was a side of him you hadn’t yet seen.

For every hour in the past weeks since a crown was placed atop his head, he had been busy. He would scheme in the council room meticulously making plans to destroy the Blacks. He worked tirelessly to ensure the small folk’s love, to coerce lords to join his cause and dispose of those who did not. 

Needless to say, your husband had become a complete stranger. You saw him at night when he dragged himself into bed with a large sigh. You attempted to comfort him, to love him, but were. ‘I’m sorry, I’m just so exhausted I can’t bear to move.’ An excuse, you thought to yourself. You took to sleeping on the edge of the bed, facing the wall instead of the man you were supposed to be. You tried to remind yourself this was not intentional, he was a new king in the midst of the war, it wasn’t your fault he could not be bothered. 

Mayhaps you should have been more understanding, maybe you should have forced him to give you the same attention as he used to but there were now other more important things. As the days flew by you became increasingly ill with something you could not name. You rarely left the bed now, too fatigued to fathom moving. 

In fear that you may be contagious, you have started sleeping in separate chambers. If your mind wasn’t so dazed by whatever plagued you, you would be far angrier. The vomiting began on the third day and seemed to not stop. Every food or medicine placed in front of you made you gag. It was impossible to keep anything inside when it all wanted to come out. 

The fourth day was when you realized something was horribly amiss, though you told no one. It started in the morning, the worst cramps you had felt in your entire life. You panicked at the sight of the blood but forced yourself to bite your lip. You couldn’t risk bothering everyone during such a time filled with turmoil. It lasted three hours, the pain, the blood, and the tears mixing into your sweat. A babe no larger than your foot was born, deceased. 

You couldn’t put into words the feelings that were boiling inside you. The signs of pregnancy were barely there, this couldn’t be happening. It didn’t feel real, watching your single trusted handmaiden wrap the babe in cloth and take it away. It didn’t make sense; you hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary to cause this. 

There were no signs of pregnancy in the past months. No growing belly or swelling feet to accompany all of the other king list of ailments that came with being with child. This was cryptic and it needed to remain that way, no matter how much pain you were in. 

There were far too many things to take into account. You failed to birth a child, the one thing women are praised for in this realm, and you couldn’t do it. If the council discovered the truth, they may have your marriage annulled and you discarded. What is a queen’s worth if she cannot produce heirs? What is a wife’s worth if she cannot produce a family for her husband? In this world you would be seen as no better than a whore. 

Thus, you distanced yourself from him entirely. You would mourn alone, sleep alone and heal alone. If you told him only worse could come from it and you simply couldn’t handle it. The hours turned into days, days into weeks and weeks into one month since you laid with your husband… It was past time you ventured outside of your chambers. 

____________________________________

When you had first met, Aegon believed your love was one that could withstand any dissension. However, it was becoming increasingly clear he was wrong. Very few people in this world loved the king, a surprising fact considering he was THE king. You were the first to show him true love and probably the last… Slowly but surely his insecurities were becoming all consuming. The feeling of his heart being gutted out increasing by the hour. 

What had he done to scorn you so? Ever since you wed, he had changed his behavior, became a better son, a more dutiful king and adoring husband. Mayhaps he should have reached out to you more but how could he when you were so determined to be alone? Aegon had his downfalls but surely it wasn’t so bad you stopped loving him. Was it?  

He forced you to attend supper, alone… You sat at the far-left end of the table, as far from your husband as you could. The table was set with luxurious food from across the realm, none of which interested you, all of which made you nauseous. It was eerily silent; the only sound being made was Aegon’s silverware hitting the plate. 

He was detached from this dinner, his mind was elsewhere, somewhere, anywhere but here. His eyes remained fixated on his food attempting to ignore the tension between him and you. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t noticed the growing distance, the refusal to share a bed with him, the constant look of apathy plastered on your face at all times. You were growing to hate him, and it became increasingly clear every day… 

It was a miserable affair. Occasionally he glanced up from his plate and your eyes would meet. He gave a small smile and nod, which would be met with a faux smile on your part. Your plate remained empty; you remained almost completely still as if completely disassociated from the world around you. It was harrowing, watching his wife lose all interest in him. It didn’t matter what he did, you remained in constant dismay. 

“Is something bothering you?” He sighed, dropping his fork on his plate and gazing into you. “Nothing is bothering me, your grace. Is something bothering you?” He raised his eyebrows, sinking back into his chair. You’ve never referred to him as your grace let alone any formal titles. “You’re deflecting.”

“If I was deflecting, I would have changed the conversation.” You spoke in an irritated tone, avoiding all eye contact. Perhaps you truly did not love him anymore, he thought to himself. 

Aegon's eyes hardened, his lips thinned. He stared at you for a few moments, before he slammed his hand down on the table, making dishes clatter together.

"Yes, something is troubling me!" He shouted. This was the first time he ever raised his voice to you in your entire marriage. "For the past few weeks, you've barely spoken a word to me. I have tried to start countless conversations with you, but they all go nowhere. You refuse to share a bed with me, you refuse to accompany me to meetings…” 

You stood up from your seat, tears beginning to form at the corner of your eyes. “I? For weeks I tried to lay with you, to comfort you, but you refused my affection at all times and swat me away like a fly,” you shouted. Aegon's nostrils flared, and he clenched his fists on the table. ”Oh? And what sort of 'affection' do you expect me to give you when you're laying here like a corpse! Sulking about the entire keep like a ghost!" His throat caught, and he took a few seconds to breathe to hold it in, but his eyes were red, rimmed with tears. 

“You don’t care at all do you?” You yelled, fingers shakily gripping the edge of the table to keep your balance. "No, I don't care!” A deafening silence fell across the room. You stopped crying, regained your composure. “I believe it is time for me to go to bed. Goodnight, your grace.” You walked out of the room calmly, ignoring the hurricane of emotions in your heart. 

Shit

“Wait!” Aegon made chase, but you picked up your speed. “Leave me alone!” You lifted your dress so you would not trip as you made a dash to your chambers. “No!” The sounds of your voices carried through the keep as he chased you down. The guards and select nobles watched the chase in shock, disapproval and embarrassment for you both. 

Your feet scurried across the floor, tears freely flowing from your face. You ripped the door to your chambers open, flinging yourself inside to try to escape him. As you tried to will the door shut his body slammed against it, throwing you back. Aegon forced himself inside, slamming and locking it behind him. You stared at him, too heartbroken and angry to speak. He panted, “no more. No more running. We’re going to have this out.” 

You turned to walk away, further into your chambers. Aegon grabbed you by the wrist, surprisingly gently. "Please, stop hiding," he spoke between breaths. "Every day I have not had a moment's peace since you’ve gone away. Every night I have not slept because you are not there. I- I’m sorry I raised my voice, I’m sorry I did not pay you enough attention. I’m sorry for whatever sin I have committed to drive you away.” 

You turned to face him, tears streaming down his face, cherub cheeks painted a soft hue of red. “I can’t go on like this. I can’t live not knowing if you still love me.” His words broke you, reopened the wound your lost child left. You loved him, you loved him more than anyone in this realm. "I had a miscarriage," you whispered. "I didn't know how to tell you.” 

“W-what?” Aegon was confused, ceasing all of his movements the second you uttered the words. You began to sniffle, guilt eating away at your heart. “I- I didn’t know I was with child. It happened so suddenly and I- I” You couldn’t finish your sentence between the sobs. He pulled you close, burying your face in his chest, “i-i’m sorry. I’m sorry” you wailed like a newborn babe. 

“Shhh, don’t say sorry.” He pushed down his feelings of regret to comfort you. “I should have been there. You should have never gone through that alone.” Aegon held you tightly as you cried, tears streaming down his own face. He murmured soothing words in your ear and stroked your hair until your sobs subsided. Finally, you lifted your head and looked into his eyes. They were filled with love, concern, and a hint of fear. "I still love you," you said softly. "More than anything."

Relief flooded his face, and he pulled you into a deep kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of the past, present, and future. It was a kiss full of forgiveness, love, and hope. When the kiss ended, Aegon brushed a strand of hair from your face and smiled. "We can make another babe if you’d like." His poorly timed inappropriate jests normally fell flat but to his surprise and enjoyment, you laughed. it was a happy, pure laugh, the kind that he hadn't heard in a long time.

[everythingwasalreadypicked]

Tw: mentions of past death and murder, suicidal ideation

Alabaster sighed, trying to ignore the gurgling of his stomach as he patrolled through Manhattan's desolate streets. It was empty, had been empty for one and a half years. The wreckage left from a long won war loomed over him like a phantom, the ghost city judging him with every step he took.

Abandoned buildings towered over the entire city, lifeless save for the occasional Monster Donut shop still crackling with vibrant lighting. The sweet smell was tempting, but no doubt an employee would report to Lord Kronos that he took a food break during his patrol.

Alabaster took a shaky breath, wedging his cane out of the crack on the asphalt it got stuck in.

His mother had finally gotten a throne. Nothing else mattered.

Maybe if he said it enough he'd start believing it.

The silence was deafening, with no signs of New York's infamous uproar.

He wondered whether Morpheus was pleased that he'd put down 'the city that never slept'.

Well. Almost put down.

Annabeth Chase, of all people, stood in front of him. Her hair done up under a scarf, her face scratched and scraped. Interestingly enough, she wore a Camp Half-Blood shirt. It seemed to barely hold itself together, with different coloured stitches and patches made of vastly different materials plastered on the fading fabric, but sentimentality and all, Alabaster supposed. Didn't matter it was small for her frame, not when it might as well be the only camp shirt left.

It looked more comfortable than the satin chaffing against his skin anyway.

"Torrington." She acknowledged, spinning her knife in her hand, eyes glaring daggers.

He really really didn't want a fight. Not only was he tired and hungry, but this was Annabeth. They knew eachother, once.

A traitorous part of him whispered; you knew Sherman too, didn’t stop you from driving your sword right into his heart, did it?

An acrid feeling stabbed the back of his throat.

"Are you mapping out where to stab me or just plain checking me out, Chase?" Alabaster forced out a cocky smile.

Her eyes flashed, "Why are you here? You're not welcome, General."

"Routine patrol." He shrugged. "I should ask you that question, technically."

"Not your business." Annabeth circled him, holding her dagger between them the whole time. Alabaster didn't attempt to move an inch, to draw his sword from where it hung on his back. "But someone needs to keep watch on Olympus."

Alabaster glanced to the side. Empire State Building stretched towards the skies, deader than Zeus’s chopped up pieces resting beneath the deepest part of Tartarus.

"You're wasting your time," he murmured, "you lost. Your gods abandoned you. They aren't coming back."

Annabeth growled behind him. She could very well strike and stab him in the back with their current positions, but Alabaster found he didn't really mind the possibility.

"Maybe try out the remains of Camp Half-Blood instead? I heard the weather is real nice there at this time of the year," he mused, shifting his weight onto his cane more, "I'm sure Grover will be fine. Never took you or Jackson as the gardening type, though."

It was quite hard to miss the giant tree growing out of an apartment fire escape. Even if it hadn't been an open secret that Perseus Jackson and Annabeth Chase took refugee in the former's home.

The truth was neither of them were worthy of being considered a threat by his lord anymore.

Or so Lord Kronos said and who was Alabaster to argue. Less work for him.

A whooshing sound... and a cold metal pressed against his throat while a body pressed against his own.

Annabeth hissed into his ear, "If you think you're scaring me—"

"I just hear what people say about me, that's all." It would be so easy to lean forward, to finally be able to sleep for more than four hours for once. To rest as his blood spilled all over the asphalt. The brand on his back flared up as if his Lord heard and disagreed with Alabaster from the throne he sat upon kilometres away. "Monster of Mount. Tam, was it?"

"You're no monster," Annabeth sneered, backing off and clearing her dagger with her shirt as if it touched something dirty, "You're a dog if anything. Wandered far away from your owner, did we? Lost your leash, Torrington?"

Alabaster flitted his gaze to the ground, shame curling inside his chest. Always trust Annabeth Chase to find the words that hurt the most. Hadn't changed a bit from when they were eight. "Go home, Chase. I do not want to fight you."

"You would lose," Annabeth slotted her dagger inside the hilt strapped to her belt. She declared, "I don't know you."

Fast, devoid of any attachment. Just like ripping off a bandaid.

"No," He agreed, a grim smile on his face as he pushed past her, "and for Titans's sake, don't get out of the house when my Lord knows I'm here."

"Coward," A scoff made him stop on his track yet again, "I hope you die in a ditch."

Alabaster stared at the hand he was clutching his cane's handle with. It was harder to see under the black nail polish, but the dried blood was there, sitting atop his nail beds and laughing at him. Just like the green magic staining around his veins in splotches, just like the feeling of never being able to wash away the blood on his hands. Just like the screams and pleas for mercy plaguing his nightmares.

"You and me both, Chase. You and me both."

[overtaken-stream]

This whole part is just King going, "My favorite color is dark, like my soul." also, this gif is so hot omfg I can't with him, I have a smut idea for him, and if I do, somehow wrap my head around it, I'll post it here and on ao3.

Yandere!King The Wildfire x reader Pt2.

It was a hasty decision, done in reaction he is unsure what to call, hardy he could handle himself when in your vicinity, it was a feeling of something intruding someplace it had no business being.

Similar to you in this situation.

His room was devoid of human touch, obviously because he barely used it, postponing his sleep until the flames on his back would collapse in on themselves, and he felt the consequences every time. It complemented his suit and the general aura he tries to surround himself with when dealing with Kaidou's henchmen, dark and containing no distractions. One specially made bed with dark covers, straightened against the wooden walls, on the other side was a wardrobe that seemed giant to a normal-sized human; unlike others, it was decorated and carefully carved, leaves, waves, ships, eyes, and unseen mysterious symbols were embedded into the burnt wood.

``It's an interesting texture.`` He remembers thinking, though he can no longer put his finger on how he got it in the first place.

And yet, in the grim surroundings, there was a light his flames could never compare to; warmth, no matter how hard he tries, will never radiate from him. It was similar to that dark house where he first laid his eyes upon you. You who have not changed nor moved on from that moment, you who trembles and shakes, cry and call out for help, insult him, and corner yourself in a place where you feel defended.

He has been in your shoes before, a long time ago, he can't be sure.

Perhaps the understanding is the cause of his heavy heart, taken away from home in such a way... He can feel his throat close up as your hunched figure shines in his view. Grime stuck itself onto your limbs, knees, and hands decorated with splinters of all sizes, hair matted and filthy from ash and smoke, and its smell follows him in his showers as he allows himself to let free of his suit. It's so recognizable.

And if his heart clenched everytime he saw you in this horrible position, nobody had to know. Not even him, it was a can of worms King won't dare to touch.

He remembers bits of information about his race, long lost to time and humanity, the whispers that came in the form of dreams speckled across his mind and reflections; the delusions and validity are mixed within his remembrances, the real and fake are smelting into and out of each other, his past is forgotten even by him, the lineage of mighty warriors feared by all is smeared across the walls with mud and blood mixed with heartfelt feelings.

In a memory long before the laboratory, his tiny ears picked up information, a word that defines and tames a feeling of awe he is experiencing—a SoulMate.

Lost words from his Ma that he was too young to understand finally make sense, a connection of minds, unconditional love, and a total understanding of each other. It's about being oneself and knowing others, a SoulMate is following and understanding One's thoughts, but They're right there with the One, side by side. Completing the soul and tying the Lunarian instincts of animals into a pretty bowtie. A Soul and a Mate.

Love at first sight doesn't exist because even if King has not experienced it before, he is not fooled by others' thinking, Love dependent on sight is lust.

But he didn't see you first, did he? He felt you.

Kaidou is not obligated to put up with a civilian within his chambers, under his roof, where the empire buzzes with insignificant life, but it has been hours after they departed from your home island, now a kingdom of ash and debris, a few hours he has spent watching you with motionless crimson eyes.

The monster gets up from the throne, the squicking of leather alerting you of his movement, forcing you to turn towards him; the last time he made any move was when he sat down on the chair you can't quite make out in the dim moonlighting, your quivers, and sniffles fade out as he gets further away from you, his broad back is turned.

It's time he explained himself.

The cold yet quiet air is disturbed when he lights up the flames on his back, coloring this room in warm shades.

Your swollen eyes and snot-filled nose could only gasp for air as he slowly turned his face back to you.

``I'll come back.`` he slams the heavy door shut.

The smell of smoke lingers in the air, the disgusting dirt of your suffering sticks onto your skin, seeps through the crack, and marks the invisible scars into your psyche.

You wished, for the first time, that a promise would be broken.

``tsk...`` the angry and tear-stained eyes turn away from the door.

Left unchecked, fear turns into irritation, irritation into anger.

Balled fists shake, out of fear, out of anger.

[quitealotofsodapop]

I imagine the Jade Emperor is feeling very, Very Stupid for thinking Wukong's claims of needing those layers of immortality was just an excuse after he gets the report that Wukong gave birth to a healthy baby boy, literally named 'Little Heaven,' only to very nearly die in the process, something no immortal thought was even possible when they consider how many layers of stolen immortality Wukong had. Like, Wukong had the most outrageous claim that was proven true within his own throne room and by his own wife, and now he's in his personal infirmary (Queen Mother insisted after helping Wukong give birth, she gets very attached because of course she does, its MK) just barely hanging onto life. Needless to say, the trial is postponed. Macaque refuses to be separated from Wukong or their cub until Wukong wakes up, which means no mobilizing the army until Wukong is awake, especially since they've confirmed that the same restrained used to keep Wukong down all those centuries ago simply will not work with Macaque.

By all rights, that cub should have been an orphan, and it was only by the sheer audacity, stubborness, and thousands of years of work put through by his parents that he has both Wukong and Macaque to watch over him. Wukong had been right, something nobody outside of his family and friends can really comprehend.

referencing Wukong having the Century Stone Egg in the middle of Heavenly Court + Wukong getting KO'd by it.

The Jade Emperor is feeling Stupid with a capitial S.

The Queen Mother is furious with her husband for not believing Wukong's claim about his reasons for immortality, but also angry with herself for not recognising that the monkey had gone into labor in her own palace. Had she'd known centuries ago that Wukong had wanted to safely have a child, she may have been able to help him with his goal, and would have forgiven the theft of her divine Peaches far earlier.

Plus, the "Little Heaven" is the cutest little furball anyone in the palace has seen in centuries. And if the Queen Mother has been caught cooing over the little cub no bigger than her thumb, then thats her business.

Lao Tzu is monitoring and documenting *everything*; weights, movements, heart rates, blood samples, anything that could give him knowledge of Wukong and the baby's conditon, but also give insight to what he and Gold Star know about Stone Monkeys. It's like having a unicorn at a vets, he can't not be excited!

The Peach Maidens visit Wukong and the baby with prayers of health and of luck. They were the very few in Heaven that suspected their attendant brother had stolen the Peaches for reasons other than gluttony. They're all super bummed out to see him in his deep sleep, and help to change his bedding and apply medicines to give his mate and found family a break.

Macaque is a bit of a gloomy mess at this point. Jumping between a silent vigil over Wukong's sleeping body, or performing a whole shadow play for their newborn cub as a bedtime story. Xiaotian truly is a little piece of Heaven for him, and he understands fully why Wukong risked and sacrificed so much for the chance to meet them.

The reincarnation/noodle shop gang are extremely supportive during this time, finally having a chance to get to know Macaque outside of their less-than-ideal meeting. Tang keeps the shadow monkey busy by telling him stories (fact-checked by Wukong himself) of the Monkey King's journeys after the couple's last meeting. Sandy teaches him ways to relax during these rough times. And Pigsy hasn't let Mac go without a meal since he got there (how the pig got into the royal kitchen, they'll never know).

The Ao Longs are very solemn during this time too. They nearly lost Mei when her egg came early, and they're super protective of Wukong and his baby while the monkey is unconcious. Little Mei met Xiaotian for the first time a few days after he was born, and hasn't lost the enchanted look in her eyes since.

Redson acts out by head-butting any stranger that comes near Wukongs' room, including celestial guards, noblemen, servants, and even his own (unknowning) divine grandparents. He declares The Monkey King and the baby under his protection! Secretly though, he curls up to Wukong at times and whispers not to "go back to long-sleep again" since it would make his Mama and Uncle Mac sad. :(

Wukong finally wakes up after a couple of days, and is overjoyed to awaken to see him and his baby both alive and well. His "Little Heaven" truly is worth all those centuries of planning <3

[heavenlyakin]

Part 1: Somebody Else

Summary: Your life is forever changed when your most trusted advisor arrives home with an engagement treaty. As Queen of your Kingdom, you knew there would be sacrifices but little did you know how much the cost of these sacrifices would be. What do you do when your mind wants one thing but your heart longs for another?

Characters: Reader (some descriptions), Suguru Geto, Satoru Gojo (only mentioned), Camilla (oc advisor), Callus (oc advisor)

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Royalty AU, reader is 24, Geto and Gojo are 31 so age gap I guess.

Length: 1.5k words

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The night he showed up at the castle gates it was raining. It had been raining since he left weeks before. Suguru Geto has left to seek out a treaty with the neighboring nation on your order, but you hadn’t expected him to return so soon. When word reached you, you changed into the closest gown to you. Griping at your chambermaids to hurry with the corset and lace you into the dress's bodice, you began to feel bad. They were awoken from their sleep, not used to dressing their Queen so late into the night. 

The walk to the throne room felt like an eternity. Your heeled steps rang through the quiet halls, the candles burning low. The Queen’s guard followed behind you as you entered the room to your throne. As you sat, you glanced at Suguru’s face, desperate to read any sort of clue from him. Nothing could be read from that look, all emotion had been erased from his face as if he knew others would be looking for the same thing. 

“Speak,” you spoke, looking directly at him. 

“Your Highness,” Suguru kneeled, his head down. “I have returned with an answer to your proposal.” 

“Do not make your Queen wait any longer,” you ordered. 

He looked up to you, face still unreadable as he sighed. “They will not agree to your terms as is. They have sent a counteroffer, an amendment if you will.” 

Chatter erupted around you, giving you a chance to look at Sugur, really look at him. The circles around his dark eyes hinted at little sleep, his hair in much need of a wash, and his clothes a cleaning. Had he traveled there and returned immediately after receiving the news? 

“Quiet,” you ordered. “We will hear the amendment.” 

Suguru swallowed, his eyes giving away the pain that echoed in his voice. “Your hand in marriage to their King, Satoru Gojo.” 

You could not quiet the explosion of noise that followed. 

– 

Picking at a loose piece of skin near your cuticle, you notice a droplet of blood forming at the base. You cease, folding your hand into the other to conceal it. The council is too busy arguing about King Gojo’s terms of the treaty from the week before. It had been like this since, you sitting at the head of the table, watching men bark at each other over who was right and who was wrong. 

Suguru has not been present since recovering from an illness acquired from traveling in such poor conditions. You blame yourself, for sending him out during the cold rainy season. Too many times have your thoughts wandered to him, but a visit more than once every few days would look suspicious. You have had to rely on your eyes in the castle, letting them report news back to you as they ready you for bed each night. 

“Your Highness, I’m begging for your attention,” Callus, the oldest member of the council, begs. 

You nod, allowing him to speak to you directly. 

“If King Gojo is serious about the amendment, the country wins a victory without having to go to war. Controlling not only our harbor but having his country’s navy, we would no longer have to fear attacks from across the sea.” Callus moves boats from Gojo’s country to your harbor. “We would bolster our defenses and increase trade tenfold.” 

You sigh, nodding. He is correct. “What have others to say?” The rest of the council begins to speak at once, but you raise your hand, stopping them. 

“Camilla,” you speak to the only woman on your council. She had been appointed by your mother, the first Queen in three generations of male heirs. She is the youngest on the council, closest to your age, making her opinions matter more to you emotionally. She’s always been a warm light in your life, like an older sister. 

The others had been appointed by your grandfather, months before he died. So they’ve stuck around, unfortunately. At least they know everything there is to know about the kingdom, but they only have their interests at heart. 

“Yes, my Queen,” she speaks, her voice making you smile. 

“What do you think about King Gojo’s offer?” 

“Test him.” She suggests, a grin on her cheeks. “Invite him here,” she brushes her strawberry blonde hair off her shoulder. “Introduce him to court, show him around, see if we can get inside that cruel brain of his.” 

“Cruel?” You furrow your brows. 

She nods. “Don’t you remember him pulling your hair when you were a child?” 

The memory escapes you. However, you do recall the visit he made to the palace with his father, the former King. Satoru was a teenager at the time, you were only 9 years of age. They visited for a time, many parties and feasts had taken place, scattering your memories around those. 

“He is no longer a child,” you reply. “Draft the invitation. I’ll sign it and have it sent tomorrow. Make sure Suguru sees it before I do. He may be ill, but that does not excuse him from doing this favor for me.” 

You stand, leaving the room as quiet chatter lingers behind you. 

The royal chambers are on the other side of the castle, making it annoying to walk back and forth without being stopped by members of the court. On your way, three ladies and two noblemen stop you with requests, most of them inquiring about marriage blessings. The courting season has yet to begin, but this isn’t surprising. When members spend the winter at court, they often seek out proposals. 

By the time you enter your chambers, you’re exhausted mentally. Since last summer’s drought, the kingdom has needed more attention than normal. For the most part, you’ve managed to keep everyone fed, even those hit the hardest by the drought. Trade has been stable as well as fishing. Now, there’s been flooding everywhere since the rain started, and it has not let up since. You wonder if this is the Gods’ cruel way of making up for the drought; by drowning you all. 

At only 24 years of age, you have so little time and experience under your belt. You’ve reigned for two years, since your mother’s passing. She fell ill and passed quickly, leaving you alone with the Kingdom in need of a strong Queen to lead. 

You’re not so sure you’ve been that. 

You begin to walk towards your dressing chamber, ready to change into something comfortable for reading before dinner, when a voice scares you. 

“I’ve not seen you look this unhappy since your mother passed,” Suguru’s familiar voice speaks from your bed. 

“Suguru,” you turn to face him from across the room. He’s lying on your bed as if it's his, dressed in black pants and a deep burgundy tunic. His hair isn’t tied back, but instead falling around his face and shoulders. “I believed you ill.” 

He shrugs, sitting up and swinging his legs off the bed, showing he’s not in shoes but just socks. Thank god, you don’t want to have to sleep in dirty bedding. He approaches you, reaching his hand out towards your face. 

You allow him to caress your cheek, placing your hand over his and leaning into his touch. Suguru has been your main advisor since you ascended the throne, appointed by you and you alone. When you were younger, you always knew you wanted him on your side when it came time. He was so much older and wiser than you. 

Despite being a decade and some older than you, he always made time for you when you were a child. His father was your mother and grandfather's most trusted advisor, so it makes sense that he would fill those shoes for you after his father died during your mother’s reign. When you asked, he answered before you could even finish the question. He remained by your side from coronation day on. 

“Suguru,” you whisper and his eyes burn into yours. 

I want you. I need you. I love you. 

It all goes through your mind but you choke it down. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” You pull away from him, turning your back to him so you don’t have to see that disappointed look in his eyes again. “Go rest in your rooms. The council will be sending you an invitation to review soon. It’d be suspicious if you weren’t present when it arrived.” 

“-----,” your name sounds foreign from the lips of anyone but him. 

“Your Highness,” you correct. 

“Understood,” he disappears through the door behind your tapestry by your bed. 

You fall to your knees as the door shuts, disappointed in yourself. An overwhelming feeling of grief washes through your body, aching in your chest and spreading to your limbs. 

Why can’t you let him love you? 

Whatever the reason, you know it's for the best of your kingdom. Shaking your head of those thoughts, you call for your chambermaids, undress, and settle in for some reading before dinner. Time passes by and before you know it they’re back to dress you again.

[odditycircus-2002]

Shang Tsung X Medusa Reader Part II

I overwrote again😅 As a reminder, this is a reader insert with Shang Tsung as your husband at this point. You not only have the ability to turn people to stone with your piercing stare, but you were an apothecary as well. TW: A bit spicy at some parts 🥵

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With your husband's victory, you were both granted a life of luxury and an entire island. Anything you could possibly ever desire, Shang Tsung would have delivered to you on a jewel-encrusted silver platter. You are adorned with the finest and most lavish outfits, jewelry, and accessories befitting an Empress. You're given dozens of servants to wait on you hand and foot, so you never have to lift a finger if you so desire. Shang Tsung would definitely have a throne made for you right by him, befitting of his sweet soul, his Queen, and his Empress.

He's also fitted his palace with many mirrors, which most would mistake for him being extremely vain. While not exactly wrong, the main reason really is so he could safely make eye contact with you without turning into stone and needing to be un-petrified every time. Something that happened once when you both turned a corner and you weren't wearing your mask or veil, much to his chagrin and your amusement. The memory of Shang's surprised expression suddenly frozen in stone is one you'll always carry with you.

"I love how my eyes can still petrify you after all this time, darling."

"Hilarious as always, my sweet."

He quickly forgives you when you give him a sweet kiss on the mouth, followed by a barrage of your snakes following suit, which causes him to chuckle in delight. Who can still be mad for too long when one is tickled by dozens of tiny forked tongues?

You would mostly be able to maintain heavy eye contact with Shang Tsung during meals when you're sitting side by side in front of a mirror. Other times, it's when he's helping oil your writhing snakes to keep their scales healthy and gleaming, all while sensually massaging your living locks as you continue to watch with a blissed-out expression. In fact, one of your favorite activities to do together is to help take care of the other's hair, which includes you massaging Shang Tsung's scalp while washing his long locks and putting little braids in. It delights something deep within your soul to know that your husband is absolutely unbothered by what has become a part of you for centuries.

Almost like meeting an unspoken challenge, you'd take the time to make your husband tea or food to snack on during work, leave him a fresh set of robes when knowing he'll be spending a day in the Flesh Pits; sometimes, you'd make medicine for Shang Tsung, whether it's to help him sleep, keep him awake and focused, or something to slip to a target; even help work out the tight knots in his shoulders and back, as he would with your coils. You bet that Shang is melting under your touch all the while. 😏

While you still tease Shang Tsung with how easy it would be to kill him whenever you show care or pamper, your husband knows your words are nothing but empty threats. After all, you still haven't done it after hundreds of years, not after you first slept together nor when he lost a Tournament to the Great Kung Lao.

"You know how easy it would be for me to slice open you neck and watch your blood delicately trickle out?"

"I'm quite aware, dear. But, if it's so easy, then why not do it now while my back is to you?"

"*sultry chuckle* Because, darling, there's no other like you."

Sometimes when you two aren't too busy, you take long walks through his island just to talk and enjoy one another's company like you did so many eons ago. Sometimes, when you both just want to sit outside and enjoy the weather, you'd lounge around in your garden to catch up. A garden full of exotic flora you personally care for and decorated with would-be thieves turned into stone, frozen in terror at your visage. It also helps your statues aren't just decoration but still living vessels containing souls. There isn't a shortage of those that would try to steal from your husband, so you never really run out of varieties of decorations for your garden. Shang Tsung will often take the time to admire your handy work and how you captured their horror and fear in those moments.

We love ourselves as a working couple that supports one another, don't we? 😊 While Shang Tsung may spend plenty of time away from home to complete whatever work Shao Khan demands, you're often in your workshop coming up with all sorts of deadly concoctions or potent medicine (and yes, your snake coils do help with a lot) also often orders of the Khan. A man both you and your husband despise and will often talk shit about within the comforts of home. It helps take a bit of the edge off to praise one another for each other's work and qualities under the Khan's grueling demands.

"Honestly, that Meat head brute could do to have your vision and creativity."

"Or your charming personality and half your intellect, let's not forget."

"Shao Khan could benefit from just a quarter of it, let's be honest."

While Shang Tsung does love to show you off to others, draped in fine silk and standing by his throne during the Tournaments he hosts, you are, in fact, not a trophy wife. However, to outsiders, that's exactly what they see, which you and Shang purposely led them to believe. For them to see a quiet, obedient, almost meek trophy wife who never shows her face, always hiding it one way or another. A mask that works well for you to act as another pair of eyes for Shang Tsung, able to move among the crowds, almost invisible as you go about your usual business since the second Tournament you attended.A ruse that has worked so well in the past that a younger Princess Kitana pitied you for, what she assumed, to be a marriage The Sorcerer practically forced you into, much to your eternal humor for the then-naive princess.

"I mean no offense, but is Shang Tsung the reason why you wear that mask, Madam? It's alright to tell me."

"Oh no, no, no! You have it all wrong, your highness. I assure you, my husband treats me quite well. He told me that my mask is more for everyone's safety than anything. Teehee"

"Why does that do nothing to assure me?"

MK 11 Kitana: "To think, I once felt sorry that you married that Snake."

"I told you the truth when I said my Shang treats me well. It's not my fault you didn't believe me."

"MK 11 Kitana: "Yet, my eyes are more open to the truth than ever."

When Shang Tsung originally died, you felt an odd sense of emptiness inside, one you never quite felt before, even with your father's passing. That emptiness was then replaced by a heavy weight that no worldly pleasure or potion could ever permanently rid you of. Soon replaced by indescribable fire once you learn the circumstances around Shang Tsung's death, such as how Shao Khan ripped out his soul to power Sindel.

From there, after renouncing your loyalty to all of Outworld, you did assist anyone you can for a high price. Did they desire a poison that would cause their enemies to be paralyzed while absolute agony? It'll cost but an eye. Have greater power to your abilities? Just a few years of your life will do. A voice, a heart, your soul, nothing was off limits. Either pay up or become part of your cave's garden or stone slave; nevertheless, your main objective was to bring Outworld to its ruin, watching it crumble to bareness and bleakness.

You've mostly done business with Mileena (who you have a small fondness for due to her being one of Shang Tsung's creations) and her Insurrection, giving them either needed toxins or remedies, given Mileena's continuous usage of Shinnok's amulet. However, that doesn't mean you didn't do business with the Special forces now and again, with you being their dirty little secret.

Granted, you had to work from the fringes of the Empire, due to how you were technically wanted by Kotal Khan for being Shang Tsung's accomplice. You've done this song and dance before, only this time, you vowed to never bow to another Khan. Especially one so foolish as to trust a Kytinn.

However, the person that earned your vengeful gaze would have to go to Quan Chi, since you couldn't get to Shao Khan in time. Plus, his plan to resurrect Sindel led to your beloved's death.

For that reason, you briefly made an uneasy alliance with Scorpion to invade the Special Forces Camp to finally Kill to Necromancer, the only payment needed being Quan Chi's spilled blood.

[the-fiction-witch]

Maidenhead

Media Game Of Thrones

Character Jojen Reed

Couple Jojen X Reader

Rating Sexy

I smiled as I headed inside the little wooden room inside the Greywater Watch, I headed to the fire and took off the boiling pot from the rack that held it in the flames, I carried it over to the side and poured the water onto the little towels, I let the steam rise up as I returned the boiling pot to the flames. I then sprinkled some flowers and dried roots into the water, and let the towels soak. 

I heard his whines so I rushed to his bedside. 

Seeing the pleasingly carved wooden bed, with the dense leafy sheets and pelts that filled the bed, inside the bed the poor boy laid. 

Jojen. 

Sweet Jojen. 

He laid, his body twisted in the sheets, as his visions tore through his mortal body like an army through a field of flowers. His skin was bare as the covers loomed around his waist, his skin had a sheen to it where he had been sweating, his eyes sealed, his breaths staggered and troublesome. 

He had always had troubles, been a frail and fragile boy. And now even as he is grown his body at times will fail him. A fever threatened to take him from our world not long after his birth a moment many call his bridge into the other world where his visions emanate. But he was sick, and had been for a good few weeks, many in the marshes had given up on him, and even his sister did not visit him any longer. For fear, he would slip beyond this world. 

But I refused to give up on him, even if many had told me I was foolish for wasting my time and energy on a dying little lord. But I could not leave him. Jojen was born in Greywater Watch only a few months before I was born in the Marshy Keep, and Hawlon was not the type of father to restrict his children just because of their lordship, Jojen and Meera plaid with us, hunted with us, much like any other child in the area, But Jojen and I due to our closeness in age had a particular closeness. I'm sure helped by his weakness and sickness given I love to heal those around me. 

My mother was the Marshes healer and when I was a young girl I was brought into the Greywater Watch along with my mother almost as replacements for medical maesters as we here in the marshes did not some old town rat sniffing about in our business. And I very much just became a maid and nurse for Jojen through his many sicknesses and his battles with his greensight visions. 

I sat at his bedside and rung out my little cloth from its bowl, I then gently patted his head with the cloth in the hope of calming him into a sweet peaceful sleep.

"Y/n..." He muttered,

"Shhh It's alright Jojen, I'm here," I whispered, 

"You should be in bed Y/n."

"Well, I'm here to take care of you." 

"You can go y/n. Everyone knows I'm dying."

"What do you think? Do you think this is your end?"

"... I don't know," He said, "My visions are becoming less and less clear," 

"Rest Sweet Jojen, I will take care of you," I told him,

He took my wrist in his hand, "I cannot ask you to nurse me into death's icy embrace." 

"You're not asking, I am doing it. Defiantly of your request, and I will sit on this bed and I will nurse you to fight back death's cold hand until my last breath if that is what it takes,"

"Why would you do this for me?"

"You know why Jojen," I cooed as I leant down and pressed a delicate kiss to his forehead, 

"You have no duty to me as the lord's son."

"I do not. I do not care about your position, your family or your blood, I care only that it is you. And I will not let you wither away without at least my attempted intervention," I told him, "Now rest your little head and let your nurse take care of you," 

"You're too sweet to me," He cooed and brought my hand to his lips to press a gentle kiss, "May i ask something of you?"

"Of course," I smiled, 

He simply tapped his chest, so I blushed set down my things, and climbed into his bed. I laid down with him my head against his chest, I let him wrap his arms around me, to hold me close to him. His hands settled on my arm and in my hair. My own on his chest. 

"Will you truly never give up on me?" He asked, 

"Never,"

"Until I die?"

"Even then, there is simply another world beyond this one I must still care for you even if we do not share a world." I smiled setting my chin on his chest to look up at him, "I will light candles for you, leave you sweet surprises still."

He smiled and peacefully stroked my face, "And I would for you, but I do not want to imagine a world without you in it."

"Neither do I." I smiled I moved up and rubbed my nose on his which he happily did back, I went to kiss him but he stopped me, "No?"

"No, I don't want to get you sick."

"I'll be sick," I smiled as I leaned in and kissed him sweetly, I felt even in his illness his lips were so sweet and soft. "You feel a little better?"

"I do," he nodded, 

"Good," I smiled as I rubbed my nose on his, "I did have a little surprise for you actually," I smiled as I climbed out the bed, "As you're feeling so much better?"

"Oh?" he asked, "As much as I love your swamp mushroom soup I'm really not in the mood to eat right now." 

"I didn't bring soup," I smiled as I unbuttoned my dress, turned back to face him and slowly let it slip down to the floor. 

He sat up in his bed, mouth agape and eyes wide. He looked at every inch of me his face read of a thousand reactions but all that arrived to his lips was simply "Uhhh Hi y/n."

"Hi Jojen," I giggled, 

"You uhhh... Uhh you're dress..."

"I know."

"Ohh." He nodded, "So this is uhhh intentional?"

"Very much so."

"Uhhhhhhhhh Why?" 

"I thought as you're feeling better I could, give you something."

"Give me something? uhhh you uhhh you sure becuase you don't exactly have much, there."

"I have something," I smiled as I climbed onto his bed and sat myself over his stomach,

"What uhh what is it can I ask?"

"Something I've wanted to give you an awful long time Jojen." I smiled as I leaned down and gave him a sweet kiss before whispering in his ear, "My Maidenhead."

He froze up and gasped, "You- You're- Really?"

"Yes." I nodded, 

"Wh- Why would you give me this?" 

"I cannot think of anyone I would rather have take it," I smiled, "So?"

"Yes." He gasped, "Yes." He nodded, "So long as this is what you want."

"More than anything," I cooed as I pulled him into a kiss and he eagerly kissed back and wrapped his arms around me. 

[rufflesandbows]

Made of Fire (Final)

Aemond x Reader (Rhaenyra's Daughter)

In spite of the fright given to you, you are not afraid now. The wedding is underway. This is more than childhood fancy. This is a duty to the Realm. You are given a gown, a feast, and a promise fulfilled. You are the blood of Old Valyria, fire made flesh, and you are not afraid.

Warnings: 18+, incest, intercourse (p in v), no protection, oral (f receiving), non-con bath washing? Semi-forced wedding Word Count: 4100 (Part 1)

You couldn’t stop thinking of that promise. 

There had been a lot of talk at the time about marrying you to Aegon, something Aemond protested greatly to. It was him you studied with. It was him you sought to dance with. It was him who shared the pain of your denied birthright, the dragon egg that refused to hatch. It was you and him, the obvious match. He’d been the only one to think so. 

You on the other hand couldn’t help but think it was too soon to talk of such things. You wanted to fly. To see the world. Imagined yourself putting on dragonscale armor and burning down enemies, Dark Sister in hand. But you did imagine Aemond would be by your side.

The kiss under the weirwood had been chaste. It didn’t need passion and fire because his words had been enough. This won’t be the last we see each other. I’ll come for you. I’ll find a dragon and I’ll take you away to be my bride. As our ancestors would have.

A flush of heat went through you, making your hands sweat every time you thought of those words. It had been said not out of lust or even love, but as a declaration of fate. You were meant to be. As the stars are meant to be in the sky, and the mountains on the sunlit horizon. The gods made fire, and they made you for him.

Milk of the poppy was still laced in your body. It made you heavy and your eyes burned in spite of the fright and your position. You worried that the interruption of your sleep would make the potion weaker. The nightmares were so awful. How your mind could conjure such horrors was beyond you. 

So when the sound of the door unlocking came, the morning sun peeking through the curtains, you sat up, utterly defeated with drowsiness. Lord Larys peered in, smiling gently as he bowed. “Princess, I am sorry to wake you, but the festivities are nearly ready. It is time to start getting ready.”

A few maid servants came in, one of them holding a large gown overflowing in her arms. Surprisingly it wasn’t the teal blues of Velaryon, but the lush red of your mothers house, with glimpses of rare black lace. They waited for your cue, a small headache brewing from a fitful sleep. “I need a bath first. I still have the stench of dragon on me. It’s bled into the bedsheets.”

Larys didn’t hesitate or even seem surprised by your harshness, “Of course. I will have the servants ready you a bath right away-”

“I’m surprised you’ve cooperated with the prince so loyally.” He took back with confusion, the servants all glancing at him. “You know his kidnapping me is treason, don’t you?”

Larys gave a very quiet chuckle, shrugging, “I-I only wish to be a good servant to the crown. Which, of course, as you are heir to the throne, will be you one day. With the prince as your King Consort.”

“And, what? Are you hoping his favor will protect you from my ire?”

Respectfully, he lowered his gaze, pleading with you, “You misunderstand me. I was hoping, as you two get along so well, that you might see this as my helping you come together.” Larys gave a pitiful sigh, sympathetic to you. “It is such a shame your families would never allow your union, despite the clear chemistry between you.”

There was plenty more you could say, but the reminder of your families, how hateful they were to one another, and the constant nightmares of bloodshed; you simmered down. With a gesture, you allowed everyone to go about their business, leaning back into the pillows, half asleep as you watched them. They brought in thick pots of steaming water, and as they left, you called to them, “That is enough.”

The lead girl startled. “My lady, it is only a quarter full.”

“I will be quick.” They bowed to you, and you grumbled out of bed, grabbing a nearby stool and setting it into the tub. Unlacing the nightgown from your neck, you slipped out of it and sat down, using a pale rag to scrape down your skin that was sticky with dried sweat. 

So focused on your task and so out of it, you didn’t hear the door slowly slip open. Nor the sound of footsteps drawing closer. You caught a shadow at the last moment, freezing as you glimpsed long silver hair. 

Without uttering a word, Aemond moved around you, lowering himself behind and presenting his hand at your side. “Please, allow me to help you.”

He knew it was inappropriate. You weren’t children anymore. But no doubt he’d say he’s going to be your husband anyway. Gritting your teeth, you set the cloth in his awaiting hand. He reached down, wetting and wringing it out, before it gently drug down your shoulder, your back, the hot waters soothing. His steady and soft work nearly lulls you to sleep. To fight it, you spoke. Preferring to stroke the fires of your anger, and his. “Are you really sure about all this, Aemond? Have you truly forgiven me in a way you haven’t my brothers? There is still time to return me and walk away.”

He chuckled, “I made a promise, didn’t I?” 

While one hand touched you with the cloth, you felt the other sneak its way on your hip. It caused a wild mix of agitation and thrill. You could feel the heat of him burn. The rough callouses of his training. How easily he could grip you. 

Shoving down the heat rising low in your body, you admitted, “You know, I thought you hated me. Or worse, had forgotten about me.”

“No.” He hummed, leaning over the tub rim to hush behind your ear and send a light down your spine. “Not for a single moment.”

Subtly, you shook your head, a hint of bitterness of your tongue. “I had made my peace with that thought.” When you looked at him, you were met with Aemond’s shock. “When my mother started talking of betrothals, I never once brought you up. I thought if we approached you for marriage, you’d laugh in our faces, as surely your mother would. When you mocked my brothers at dinner, I had gone to bed knowing I was right.”

He had the decency to look shamed, but he gripped you tighter. “I made it clear none of it was meant for you-”

“The only thing you made clear to me was your indifference.” You certainly couldn’t say that of him now. He’d taken you across the land, was ready to wed you within the hour, snuck in here just to get a small taste before the ceremony. You just wanted him to feel a small fraction of your frustration all these years. Aemond submitted, going back to washing you down. Your back, your hips, your neck, drips of water crawling down your chest as if they were fingertips dragging down your body. 

With fresh hot water in the cloth, he began to drag his hand down your thigh. As he moved forward, a touch of soft lips fell on your shoulder. You stilled, feeling him slowly pepper kisses along your back. You meant to say something, to stop him, but it stirred such desire in you. The rising beat of your heart teasing you to stay silent as his lips savored your skin, his hands mapping out the curves of your body. You tried to keep your breathing steady, tried not to move to accommodate the pressure building in your hips. To deny him just how much of an effect he was having on you. Yet his hand on your thigh began to move inward, back toward the needy hot center of your legs. You sucked in a sharp gasp and interrupted him, “Aemond-”

“Let me touch you.” He sighed hard, his breath ghosting down your spine and making you shudder again. His fingertips slipped from the cloth and touched your bare skin, moving ever inward. “Just for a moment. Please. I’ve saved myself for you all this time-”

“Till the ceremony.” You taunted, thighs trembling in spite of your rebellion. “That’s what you said. Or are you both a scoundrel and a liar?” 

Aemond’s grip tightened, his fingers flexing, digging in as if he meant to claw you. With a huff he removed his hands completely, and you could see his tightly wound fist, knuckled white, trembling on the rim of the bathtub. He took you in the night, scared the living daylights out of you on top Vhagar, and has cornered you into marrying him. If it pained him to wait, then he would wait. 

You could hear him huff with agitation, dropping the cloth in the waters as he rose to his feet. “Then I shall leave you to get ready. Everything will be waiting for you.”

Once the door was shut, you stared at it for a moment, felt all the heat taken with him. Even the waters lacked their steam. With a sigh, you made quick work, ignoring how sensitive your skin had become. 

When done, with a robe you allowed the servant girls in to help you ready, all three of them coyly avoiding your gaze and stifling grins. The dress fit perfectly. Too perfectly. Where did he get ahold of your measurements? How long had he been planning this? As well they braided your hair, entwined with red ribbon, and pinned glittering rubies in a crown.

As the maids led you out, they didn’t take you to a grand hall, but outside the fort walls. Down to the lake's edge with its blood red forest far across the glittering waters. They decorated well for a small wedding, Aemond all in black and the Maestor standing under an crafted archway that was entwined with wildflowers. Multicolored petals sprinkled through the lush green grass. The waters glittering brightly on the golden sun. In the distance, surrounding the Godswood, there was still a light grey mist that made one think of ghosts looking back. There were guests on either side, not a one of them familiar but clearly excited to be apart of such a union between royalty. 

You met Aemond, all his hottiness gone from him as he gripped your hands, his gaze having softened on your approach. Utmost sincerity as he spoke, “You look beautiful.” It managed to crack a small grin from you. 

As the vows began, you glanced to the nameless crowd. You never doubted that your family wouldn’t be here, to celebrate your union, no matter how ill conceived. It would have been comforting to see them at your back. Your eyes scanned the skies, to find them clear of clouds, and dragons. Vhagar, the old bat, was fast asleep on a hill, uninterested in glaring you down this morning. No matter all your mixed feelings, surely this union would put an end to the succession ordeal. Surely it would dampen all the bad blood if only a little. If only enough. Hurting one would only serve to hurt their own.

Aemond’s hands gave yours a squeeze, bringing you back to the ground, urging you to say your part of the vows. You nodded and began repeating the words. The rest following suit with ease. More trained than with meaning. Once your end was done, you gripped Aemond a little tighter, the ceremony almost over, the fluttering of butterflies making you nauseous. You were barely present in your own mind when Aemond leaned forward and captured your lips with his. When you didn't back away, he flooded you with affection, cradling your neck in his hand, the other holding you tight to his chest. Warmth was all around you, the excited cheers in your ears as the gentle winds brushing your dress.

The feast was extravagant. The guests all enjoyed themselves as if it were more a holiday than a wedding. Some offered their congratulations but most were only servants, house staff and guards. They had no reason to steal attention and garner favor. They had no riches or promises to offer. They were happy just to be in your presence. There was a charm to it, lightening your mood as you watched them, thinking of joining them in conversation.

“We will have another.” Aemond spoke, placing his hand on yours, his thumb caressing you and the concern on him taking you by surprise. “When the arguments settle and everyone accepts our union, we will hold another celebration. One where our families are present.”

While that was the very thing you wanted, you laughed. “Oh, won’t that be eventful!”

“Is it a proper celebration without a fight breaking out?” He teased. 

It amused you, “Suppose not.” Definitely not in your family.

The games and feast and revelry went on all day, each hour more drunk than the last. Until the sun began to set, and you had long forgotten to be on the look out for any great beasts of the sky. 

You’d been giggling helplessly at a wild tale some of the maids were telling you, when Aemond took a stand and offered his hand to you. Dread smacked into you at first, but it fizzled just as quickly. 

He’d grown so incredibly handsome, his intensity alluring and his presence dominating. It had been all you noticed on him the day of the dinner, wanting him to desperately notice you and remind you of that promise so long ago. With the drink heavy and the lights low, your blood was thick molten through your system.

You slipped your hand in his, allowing him to lead you away, the crowd giving one last hoorah for your departure. While you gave them a flattered smile, when your eyes fell on him you couldn’t break away. Aemond must have felt it for when you two rounded a corner, he grinned back at you, making you flush and shy away.

The room you ended up in was unfamiliar to the one you’d been locked inside. You recognized the riding gear hanging up against the wall, realizing it had been Aemond’s guest room. Twice as big and with a fireplace, and the bed big enough for four. Once the door was shut, he stepped up to a table and began to untie himself. You watched, taking in every step with wild interest. 

The way he removed his jacket and his shirt was almost ceremonial. There was no rush, neatly folding and setting them on the table.

Your eyes drifted down his body. How well crafted he was. Toned, honed for combat as any great predator. You couldn't deny yourself any longer, the hunger you felt for him since you saw him in that training yard. You walked up and crashed into his back, wrapping your arms around his sides and your hands roaming his front. Savoring the expanse and the heat radiating off him and seeping in through your clothes, skin burning against your cheek.

You didn't know yourself to be so bold with another, but in the haze of thick wine through your blood, your hand drifted down his front, slipping with surprising ease into the rim of his breeches. You could feel Aemond intact a sharp breath, feel him flinch at the unexpected. One hand gripped his chest while the other explored beneath his waistline. You enjoyed what you found, feeling him harden against your palm quicker with every stroke. He drifted back into your embrace, his head lulling back and a deep rumble in his chest as he moaned.

His hand came up his chest, covering yours. Aemond chuckled, looked over his shoulder at you. "Turn around, and I'll help you out of that dress."

Biting your lip, reluctant to remove your hands from him, you nodded. You both turned, and your heart leapt when you felt him slip a hand on your hip and bring you back into his. The erection you stirred in him pressed up against your hind, taunting you with your own actions. With a kiss to your neck, his fingers quickly begin to undo the laces.

“I’ve waited for this day, for so long.” His fingers moved down lower and lower, until he could grab the ends and open them wide, running his hands down the thin shift underneath. It sent a thrill of anticipation. “So many times I thought to fly to Dragonstone and claim you. I was reminded every time of who and what lay in wait for me, of complications and keeping the peace.”

He took a deep steady breath in, letting it out through his lips. “Now, your mine.” Aemond directed you to face him as the gown dropped to the floor. He said again, a manic gleam in his eye, a deep rumble in his voice that you could feel shaking in your chest, “You’re all mine.” 

He devoured you. Pressed you up against his body, caged you in his embrace as his kiss demanded more and more. When your hands touched him to stabilize yourself, you melted in his arms, moaning at the slip of his tongue along yours.

All thought had left you, your nails running across his back, painting thin pink lines. You heard the table and chairs give a clatter as he backed into them. Breaking you only for a beat, and he dropped low enough to wrap his arms around your waist. With a quick stride he picked you up just enough to drop you onto the mattress, quickly covering your body with his, your mouth with his. Not for a single breath did he care to stop.  

Eagerly, you worked the shift up your body, the heat between you too much to bear with layers and the silk of his skin on yours was divine. It came off with ease, him nestled between your legs, your chest pressed to his, his peaked and hard length running along your core. Aemond ran his hands all over you, your sensitive skin aware of every little brush and grip, every roll of his hips between your thighs. You shared a sigh as he lowered himself enough to kiss the valley of your beasts.

Aemond reached down between you. He gave his trousers a tug until they came loose, but he only lowered himself further, kissing down each and every inch of your body. Each touch of his lips more damp and savoring than the last. Until you were squirming under him, his lips teasing the excitable area just under your waistline.

“You would not believe the things I have watched on the Street of Silk, that I’ve saved for you.” Aemond moved lower, an instinct to cover the area coming to you as your knees quivered in shock. You felt him nuzzle between your wet and open hem. A hot slick swipe made you jolt from the abrupt pleasure. “I wanted to be good for you. You’ll have to tell me how I do.”

Another lick came, making you flush as you realized what he was setting out to do. You gasped at the waves of delight that each stroke of his tongue sent through you. Sapping every breath, making you struggle just trying to stay still, your legs trembling as they came up to frame his head. 

“Oh- Aemond-” Another sharp gasp overtook you, throwing your head back as he feverishly buried himself, working his tongue faster right at the very point of your high reaching ecstasy. The notion of keeping quiet was gone from you, cries slipping from your lips with ease. Your hands came down, one digging nails into your thigh, the other covering his hand. Lovingly, he moved his fingers to hold you back. 

You glanced down, his expression pained as he ate you up. His trousers were down to his ankles as he stroked himself, his cock straining with arousal despite only having half his attention.

The sight set you up right at the very edge. Your eyes rolled back, body wound up, desperate to release. You couldn’t stop yourself from thrusting your hips on his tongue, Aemond letting you ride him until your cries became quick and fever pitch. He grabbed your hips with both hands, pinning you down as he sealed his lips and sucked hard. You could almost fight him off it was so much. Your heels digging into the mattress as you shook all over, your hands on his to hang on as your head lifted into the seven heavens. 

So quickly it became too much, pleading for him to stop, your lips were tingling and too numb to speak clearly. “Wai- Aemond- is too much it-”

He let up with a moan. Your name slipped from his lips, slurred as if drunk though he hadn’t drank a drop at the feast. Aemond placed soaking wet kisses on your thigh, trembling as he lifted himself up to his knees, his hand still pawing at his cock. 

His other came to your jaw, making you look at him. What he saw gave him great satisfaction, smiling wide at the blissed out expression you held, still struggling to catch your breath. “It was good then?”

You gave a feeble nod, eyes rolling back as your body was still high in ecstasy, “Yeah- yes, oh it was so good, Aemond.”

His pride turned apologetic, reaching down and opening up your puffed and awaiting lips. “I am already so close.” He bit his lip, toying along the seam with his fingertips. “If I am too quick, I will take you again in the morning. Until you tell me you are satisfied.”

Even if you were to fight him, there was no energy left in your muscles. As you felt his tip press, begin to stretch you out as it slipped in, the most you did was whimper and raise your hips, trying to alleviate the building pressure of his descent. Aemond would pull back when you squirmed too much, but only to push in further. His eye rolled to a close, his head lightly tipped back as his hips gently worked himself deeper and deeper. He was trembling with the restraint. 

When his hips were close enough, buried deep enough, you were able to reach him. When you touched his hip, he fell forward. Silver hair framing your vision, his mouth and chin glistening with your liquor, his gaze completely glazed over. You thought to remove his eyepatch, it must have been so uncomfortable for him all this time. But if he hadn’t removed it himself, and you didn’t want to sour his spell by acting unprompted.

You two stared into one another as he gently moved, pressing his hips. You could feel every little bit of him, no relief from the thought this was it. This was the deed done and could not be undone. You were fully married now. Fully one. Whatever was to come, you’d have to face together.  

You gripped onto Aemond as he brought himself closer to you. He kept his pace slow, letting you adjust while he peppered light kisses on your lips and cheek. Your hands roamed the expanse of his back and shoulders, feeling his strength as he restrained it. The movement of his thrusts began to bring more and more pleasure, hitting the very dam of your pleasure, bidding it to break and wash over you. You urged him, “Faster, Aemond. Give me more- it feels so good.”

You felt only the briefest moment of relax, a sigh of relief before he smacked his hips into you. Jolting you, a sharp cry caught in your throat before he did it again, picking up speed, bucking hard enough the curtains of the canopy bed began to shudder and wave. Aemond sat up, placing a hand on your chest, close to your neck, making you stay right there, in his grasp, in his sight.

Cries and whimpers filled the room, all emanating from you as he mercilessly claimed you. He was so beautiful. Mounting you, all that power in that warrior’s body of his shuddering through you. The utter concentrated focus and pleasure on his blushing face. He gripped your thighs to his sides, lifting you onto his lap just to get closer, as if being buried to the hilt wasn’t enough. Thrusting as deeply as he possibly could, making your back arch off the bed as your body glowed with the hot waves of pleasure. 

All you could do was hang onto him, ride it out as he rode you to his very limit. You could see Aemond trying to hold himself back, trying to edge himself to the very brink, for you. You reached out, running your hand down his glistening chest, “Aemond, give it to me. I want you, I want all of you!” You sighed as a thrill shuddered through him, looking at you as if pleading for you to stop talking. “Please, please I want it, I want you to fill me. Make me your wife. Like you promised.”

He’d been fairly quiet, more concentrate on his work, but at your plea a list of open mouthed cries spilled from him, gripping you tight as he bucked and quivered, warmth flooding you.

Gently, Aemond lowered himself on top of you, sighing with relief as his arms came up to your sides, holding you, kissing your shoulder while he caught his breath.

You two stayed there a moment, letting the ecstasy linger and warm your bodies. Aemond pulled back enough to look into your face, giving you one last long damp kiss before rolling off you, a hand still on your stomach, lightly brushing the soft skin. Moving lower, kneading above your mound. “I hope my seed takes tonight. No one will deny our union when they see how you’ve taken me.”

You chuckled, the sound lightly crackling, sleep finally and quickly taking you. “My family is going to murder you.”

The bed gave a shift around, and a caressing touch fell on your cheek, one you keened into. “They can try. But you’re mine. There isn’t anything they can do to change that now.”

You only gave a hum, rolling over to face him and feeling your mind leave you as he pulled the blankets up. Aemond moved closer to you, resting his arm on your waist. Watching over you as you slept.

____

I hope you enjoyed the read!

Taglist: @marvelita85 @merovingianprincess @yourmoony @aemondswifeisme @dawnrichardson @lolitaisreal @iiamthehybrid @snh96 @nina2697 @1950schick @carryonmywaywardho @raven1234321 @bellaisasleep @hopelessdisasterr @jennifer0305 @smartiepants217

[thirsty-boba-fett-posts]

This will be a multi part fic.

tw: injuries, trauma, family abandonment, eventual smut, power imbalance, Daddy kink (if you squint)

…

It was too early in the day for tributes and grievances. In hindsight, he should have known this was neither. When 8D8 announced her entrance, he tilted his head to the side ever so slightly in an uncharacteristic gesture of puzzlement. Fennec, ever observant at his side, glanced at him and raised her eyebrows.

He hardly recognized her. Not because he hadn’t seen her in years - she had her father’s best features and distinct big, bright eyes - but because the left side of her face was mottled with livid bruises and her lip was split. There was blood down the front of her dress and caked in her nostrils. She stood straight and walked with her head high and her shoulders back. A white, odd-eyed tooka, specially bred to be the companion of royalty, trailed behind her. It had been just a kitten the last time Boba saw it - a gift from her father. The Boy King, they’d called him. Boba had at first wondered how he’d ever managed to raise a child, then he watched her loping effortlessly around the palace courtyard on a fathier that stood taller than a man and he realized that she’d raised herself.

The Boy King of Brao frequently employed the bounty hunter Boba Fett when he was in the business of taking no-questions-asked contracts. The Boy King was, in fact, only a few years older than Fett himself. Contracts for The Boy King always ended in as many rounds of strong drink as Fett could tolerate and the offer of companionship from one of the many dancing girls who benefited from The Boy King’s propensity for debauchery. The Princess, a child then, would be in the stable or the woods.

Fett did meet her once, briefly, before her father sent her off to a finishing school on Hosnian Prime. And here she was now, a finished princess, maintaining her composure admirably despite what appeared to be throbbing injuries to her face.

“Come forward,” he said, more softly than he intended.

She signaled with her hand at her side for the fancy-bred tooka to sit and remain still, and Fett saw in that moment that her hand was bruised as well and at least two of her fingers appeared visibly broken.

The Princess stepped towards the throne with her eyes cast down and her posture rod straight. She executed an admirable curtsy, but winced and made a small noise as she raised herself back up. There were dark circles under her eyes and her lashes were wet.

“What brings you to Mos Espa, Princess?”

“There was a coup,” she replied quietly.

There had indeed been a coup. The Boy King’s decades of indulgences had finally caught up with him. He’d fled, leaving The Princess to face the consequences alone.

“Where is your father?”

“If I knew, I would have told the Opposition General the first time he asked and avoided all of… this.”

She gestured weakly towards her face.

The Princess, being The Boy King’s next of kin, was issued the death penalty on his behalf. She’d managed to bribe her way on to the smuggling compartment of a ship - along with her tooka - and had the presence of mind to make her way to the palace of Boba Fett, the only person with any power that her father hadn’t managed to betray or swindle.

…

Fett instructed Drash to help her into the bacta tank. In the privacy of Fett’s healing room, she helped The Princess peel off her bloody dress and wrap clean muslin cloth over her breasts and across her hips to preserve her modesty. Her injuries were extensive, and once she was unconscious and fully submerged in the tank, Fett briefly and without a spare glance read through the health report on the bacta tank’s data pad.

The tooka - a male of the species named Fru - whined anxiously at Fett and sat up on his haunches to peer into the bacta tank at his sleeping mistress.

“She’ll be fine.”

“Chrrp.”

…

Part II is coming soon. Requests are open. I’m taking suggestions for a name for The Princess.

[rockislandadultreads]

Fairy Tales & Legends Retold

A Spindle Splintered by Alix E. Harrow

It's Zinnia Gray's twenty-first birthday, which is extra-special because it's the last birthday she'll ever have. When she was young, an industrial accident left Zinnia with a rare condition. Not much is known about her illness, just that no one has lived past twenty-one.

Her best friend Charm is intent on making Zinnia's last birthday special with a full sleeping beauty experience, complete with a tower and a spinning wheel. But when Zinnia pricks her finger, something strange and unexpected happens, and she finds herself falling through worlds, with another sleeping beauty, just as desperate to escape her fate.

This is the first volume of the "Fractured Fables" series.

Gods of Jade and Shadow by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

The Jazz Age is in full swing, but Casiopea Tun is too busy cleaning the floors of her wealthy grandfather’s house to listen to any fast tunes. Nevertheless, she dreams of a life far from her dusty small town in southern Mexico. A life she can call her own.

Yet this new life seems as distant as the stars, until the day she finds a curious wooden box in her grandfather’s room. She opens it—and accidentally frees the spirit of the Mayan god of death, who requests her help in recovering his throne from his treacherous brother. Failure will mean Casiopea’s demise, but success could make her dreams come true.

In the company of the strangely alluring god and armed with her wits, Casiopea begins an adventure that will take her on a cross-country odyssey from the jungles of Yucatán to the bright lights of Mexico City—and deep into the darkness of the Mayan underworld.

Juniper & Thorn by Ava Reid

A gruesome curse. A city in upheaval. A monster with unquenchable appetites.

Marlinchen and her two sisters live with their wizard father in a city shifting from magic to industry. As Oblya’s last true witches, she and her sisters are little more than a tourist trap as they treat their clients with archaic remedies and beguile them with nostalgic charm. Marlinchen spends her days divining secrets in exchange for rubles and trying to placate her tyrannical, xenophobic father, who keeps his daughters sequestered from the outside world. But at night, Marlinchen and her sisters sneak out to enjoy the city’s amenities and revel in its thrills, particularly the recently established ballet theater, where Marlinchen meets a dancer who quickly captures her heart.

As Marlinchen’s late-night trysts grow more fervent and frequent, so does the threat of her father’s rage and magic. And while Oblya flourishes with culture and bustles with enterprise, a monster lurks in its midst, borne of intolerance and resentment and suffused with old-world power. Caught between history and progress and blood and desire, Marlinchen must draw upon her own magic to keep her city safe and find her place within it.

Kaikeyi by Vaishnavi Patel

“I was born on the full moon under an auspicious constellation, the holiest of positions—much good it did me.”

So begins Kaikeyi’s story. The only daughter of the kingdom of Kekaya, she is raised on tales about the might and benevolence of the gods: how they churned the vast ocean to obtain the nectar of immortality, how they vanquish evil and ensure the land of Bharat prospers, and how they offer powerful boons to the worthy. Yet she watches as her father unceremoniously banishes her mother, listens as her own worth is reduced to the marriage alliance she can secure. And when she calls upon the gods for help, they never seem to hear.

Desperate for independence, she turns to the texts she once read with her mother and discovers a magic that is hers alone. With it, Kaikeyi transforms herself from an overlooked princess into a warrior, diplomat, and most favored queen.

But as the evil from her childhood stories threatens the cosmic order, the path she has forged clashes with the destiny the gods have chosen for her family. And Kaikeyi must decide if resistance is worth the destruction it will wreak—and what legacy she intends to leave behind.

[mousey-writes-sometimes]

Deity! Reader x Ghost

AN: I'm literally just writing this bc it's been making my brain go brrrr.

warnings: light mentions of wounds/blood, you, your existence? deity reader, forgotten goddess?

Word count: <500

Running and taking cover in some dingy old cave wasn't Ghost's favored pass time, but neither was being stabbed yet here he was, both stabbed and taking cover in some overgrown cave he'd run into while recovering from the rain of bullets. it was cold, wet, and dark, but it was better than a casket he'd assumed.

after finally finding a stick and fishing out his army funded (?) lighter he ripped a piece of his shirt off and managed to light the damned thing 'Might as well get comfortable' he thought to himself while brushing away from dust on a bolder, seemingly uncovering some ancient runes, appearing to be of a deity of some sort.

while looking around better in the previously dark cave he noticed a ... statue of a sleeping woman? odd, it looked like the person from the pictures, laying the light in an old, almost broken, torch holder, suddenly multiple other torches begin to light all around the now abandoned place of worship, and as he turned around to watch them light he heard a shuffling sound, turning back around in a hurry, gun in his hand the statue was ...gone?

~~~~~~

as you watch the assumed soldier turn to watch YOUR worship torches light you take it as your opportunity to run, running through long overgrown vines that grew to protect your temple, own a long, crumbling, hallway, and into a throne room, he had seen where you ran, he saw where you'd been laid to rest as people forgotten your name, you'd only hoped he wouldn't follow you as you run through what was once a beautiful temple and past the thrown you once sat in answering the towns peoples prayers in (T/N), what had happened to your beautiful town? you couldn't even hear the river that ran through the other end of the cove you called home!

~~~~~~

Ghost had seen someone run through what he assumed to be a wall but turned out to be a bunch of vines and decided to give chase leaving footprints in the dust-covered ground, something he failed to notice was that the person he was chasing didn't seem to leave any trace at all, too busy chasing where he'd seen them tuck tail and run.

Usually, ghost would be able to keep up, but Ghost was injured and still bleeding, stopping and leaning against a wall to catch his breath the chase stops, and he slides down the wall, sitting on the floor heaving in pain and exhaustion, you stop too, turning back and seeing the weakened and bleeding man is no threat to you, at least not in his current condition.

as you walk to him kneeling down to look at his wound he flinches away, unable to get far because of the wall he is against...

TBC

AN 2: prolly will edit/rewrite and add onto this eventually lol, Tell me about any mistakes/untagged warnings!!

MASTERLIST

!!!I do NOT consent to my work being plagiarized, translated, or posted elsewhere without my knowledge or permission!!

[stingslikeabee]

Okamura was half - asleep, stretched out on her side with her head in Melissa's lap while the Queen of Tokyo read. The blonde purred throatily at the feeling of her mate's fingers stroking the tattoo that covered most of her stomach. For once, she was not a great cat as she drifted off to sleep.

Mai stretched leisurely from her chair. Her eyes, freshly scarlet, turned to the two women on the sofa. Mothers, she was to call them ; even that little self - reminder sent a thrill of excitement through the newborn. Normally, she would have shifted to her harpie form, but Okamura's unusual choice to remain humanoid had inspired their freshly - turned daughter to do the same. Mai often mimicked the blonde's behavior — they were both beasts, after all, though different in shape.

The fledgling vampire eventually twisted herself into a ball and folded her forearms on the arm of the chair. She set her chin on them and watched Melissa's fingers. Mai's stare narrowed thoughtfully. Those beautiful lilies hid a series of deep, nasty scars. That much Mai knew : she had touched them before when Okamura fed from her. Another life ago.

"Where did they come from?" Mai finally whispered, nodding toward the lines that Melissa followed. "Kiri - chan said vampires only scar if it happens to them turning or if they . . . already had them. Unless it's like — you're Daigo - san and have a magic god on your back that heals your dying wounds."

Mai pursed her lips, mulling it over. "Do you know, Mother? Or were they from before you met her? I guess I really haven't heard much of that, either. Where you guys came from, if it's okay for me to ask that. I'm just curious."

unscripted asks . always accepting

Melissa's eyes moved from the papers to their freshly turned daughter easily enough; as interesting as the numbers that Shun had provided the queen with were, they were by no means urgent business. Leaving the printed reports over the nearest bedside table, the oldest vampire sighed out of habit and moved very carefully in order not to disturb her peaceful mate - instead, the monarch merely carried on with the soft touches that had lulled Okamura into a sweet slumber.

"I do know, my dear. These were a gift from your grandmother, in vampire terms," Melissa explained, turning her head to gaze at their one and only offspring; all these centuries roaming the Earth and Mai had been the only one they had thought about turning. A privilege in many ways - particularly given how precious and ancient the blood in her veins was, "Azumi and I - we were turned by the same vampire. I hope the Countess visits us soon so you can meet her - Katerina is fascinating," the queen offered gently, voice growing warm in a way that it rarely did but for her close family - which now included the young Mai.

"When I was selected to be turned, Katerina and I did not share that with Azumi - and when she found us, mid-embrace, she desperately tried to save me from what she assumed to be an attempt on my life. The only way to ensure that I would transition well was for Katerina to fatally wound Azumi - and then turn your mother too," Melissa explained the experience with an eerie fondness in her voice - blood, assassination, flesh wounds; to another person, it was nothing short of a horror story. But for the brunette, it was one of the best nights of her life.

A new beginning - the death of Queen Lilian as they knew her, the birth of Melissa; not yet with a throne, as it would only come decades (almost a century, really) later - but it was a moment of pride and joy for the vampire.

Mai's eyes were wide, almost unblinking - it was clear that the tale of emotion, blood and power had captured her attention, and the absolute lack of disgust or judgement further solidified the certainty in Melissa's soul. They had chosen well - their little harpy was a vampire at heart, long before the turning. She just flourished into the individual she had always meant to be, and, at the outstretched hand from her oldest mother, the youngling moved forward - the soft caress received was not unlike one awarded to a pet, but it was hardly insulting.

As it turned out, both Mai and Okamura enjoyed being treated (even in human shape) as their animal forms liked to be; a lingering bond connected these with alternate shapes instead of normal bats, apparently. Kiriko was just the same with her panther habits, which made Melissa sometimes wonder how it would have felt if she had too been blessed with that type of gift.

"So Kiri-chan told you the truth - Azumi is only scarred like this because it happened during her own transformation, but the artwork is a tribute to me. My name... Is not originally 'Melissa'; I was born Lilian, and I was once a queen to a western kingdom in Europe. But we have left that life behind centuries ago, even before Japan closed off to the rest of the world," Mai gasped softly, likely impressed at the notion that, before being at the helm of the Tokyo Coven, Melissa had been a real queen to humans - although potentially erased from history books and with another name, "Azumi gave her life for me and I would have given mine for her, too. We were both lucky Katerina found us first."

Mai nodded - the adoration and devotion of her mothers was something she was familiar with; even before she was a part of that family and when she had been nothing but a toy to the two older creatures, the young Japanese girl had noticed their shared bond - now she knew what it meant, but the connection between her mothers was impressively strong - just as the one with Kiriko's fathers.

"That is incredible," Mai murmured, smiling softly - in that gentle yet feral way of hers, and Melissa chuckled, placing a soft kiss on her forehead when she left the chair to join the couple in bed. The queen made room for her, finding the way that their young offspring chose to rest against her adorable - again, almost a perfect copy of Okamura. Melissa was flanked by her protectors, two impressive beasts who she would do everything for to preserve their vulnerable sides, too.

But apparently, Mai was not yet done - even if she was no longer facing Melissa, she sighed audibly and spoke again with a dreamy-like quality to her voice:

"You both are like rockstars, Mother. Badass women, really."

The queen laughed softly, using her free hand to caress their offspring in the same way she did with Okamura, happy to be piled upon by the family she had chosen along the way.

"You too, Mai-chan. We wouldn't have chosen you otherwise, my dear."

[koifish86]

Your jumper

So I know I haven't posted anything for a while, I've been a bit busy with Uni work to write anything new. However, I have had some creative writing assignments and created some OC's. I was quite proud of this assignment I did and I'm currently working on another one. TW: talks of suicide, suicide of a family member and self harm scars.

I’m wearing your jumper. The one you left on my doorknob that morning. The creak of floorboards woke me up, but I turned over and dove back into a dream. It’s weird knowing that the last time I saw you it was a shadow slinking down the stairs and not you jumping on my bed to tell me about the book you’ve been reading or smiling after you beat me at cards. Your jumper stills smells of lavender and sea salt and the sand won’t leave the crevice’s of your pocket, like you won’t leave the crevices of my brain. I want to scrub you out, get a scourer on all the grooves and maybe it’ll hurt less. Scrubbing every memory of you every thought you gave me, every lesson. Losing my brain rather than losing you. I want to forget all the stories you told me to get me to sleep, I want to forget the nights we stayed up star gazing, I want to forget that you never lived outside of this hoodie, but you left it that night.

The sun rose again, the birds sang once more, and the waves continued to crash against the rocks. The sky was painted with pink and orange hues that night, tonight the sky was stained purple as it gave way to bright glistening stars. The hunter, Orion waves his club, the Pegasus spreads its wings proudly, Cassiopeia clutches to the north pole in an effort not to fall off her throne. I hope one day you find your way to the stars; I can look up at you and tell your story like you used to tell me theirs.  The world kept spinning and the stars still shone in the sky everything kept moving. I had to keep moving too. I’m getting up, I’m listening to the birds singing, I’m watching the sun rise and set with each new day. I’m watching the moon go through her cycle her silver face turned to me and her amber smile comforting me the way you used to. She is reflected in the water that you greeted as an old friend; you threw open your arms as the waves did too.

The scars you left on your arms, your thighs, your face. I wonder if they stung when you hit the sea spray. The white lines dig in and create grooves in your skin like a record player going round, playing the same song over and over. Your life plays out in my head and the record goes round on the turn table. It’s your favourite, the one you barely let me touch for fear of breaking it. Funny that a song meant more to you than your own life. Although lots of things meant more to you than yourself. Your skin and blood a sacrifice, it drips, drips, drips. You didn’t care about yourself, your life, your blood, your soul. You cared about me though. That why you left me your jumper, right?

[pinkydevil16]

Sunshine Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen reader; part 5

"Whose my handsome baby." Y/n smiled as she scratched at Cannibal's chin, him huffing at her calling him a baby.

"You love it don't be so rude." She giggled at him, Cannibal closing his eyes resting his head gently down tilting as to indicate he wanted to be scratched more. No one could understand how the great beast let her claim him, he had slaughtered so many who tried in his long lifespan as well as killing and eating many dragons. And yet everyone watched far away as the princess of only 13 laid against the dragon, scratching the underside of his chin and speaking to him as though he were a house cat. She spent most her days with her dragon now Aemond was preoccupied with his duties, she had learnt her septa would not follow her down to the dragon pit so as long as she stayed there, she could do as she pleased. 

Aemond was learning everything he could to be the best suit for the throne, his brother too busy drowning himself in wine and whores. His older sister pushing out heirs two years after their marriage although everyone knew Aegon only visited when he was drunk and lonely. He sighed as he laid in bed, his mother had scolded him for always sleeping in Y/n's room, it was inappropriate for a young lady and could ruin her for marriage prospects. He did not care for the idea of her being married to some disgusting lord who would pump her full of children and demand more land in return for them. He despised how everyone watched his sister as she grew to be a young woman, she was his twin, they were made for each other not to be shared with those who did not appreciate her. As he began to fall asleep Aegon stumbled into his room.

"Get up brother i have something to show you." He slurred pulling Aemond from his bed. The two walked the streets, Aemond irritated as he was dragged by the older boy but curious as to what he wanted. Approaching a large building Aemond rolled his eyes as Aegon knocked. A lady in sheer clothing smiling at his brother before letting the two in. Aegon requesting their finest woman to attend to his brother, Aemond scowled at two women hung off his arms

"Time to get it wet brother." Aegon laughed as he hurried the three into a room and taking his leave to have his fill of whores. Aemond did not know what to do as the women taught him how to please a woman and himself, his thoughts full of Y/n.

When Aemond finally managed to drag Aegon from the whore house he threatened his brother to never speak of it, Y/n could not find out he did not want her to think of him as she did Aegon. She did not think of him badly, truly she did not see anyone as awful, but she was aware of his activities. Aegon would ask her to join him sometimes in his drunken stare but she would only smile and help him to bed. Whispering sweet things and showing him the love and affection he craved from his mother. The two were not close but she held a pure brotherly love towards him, seeing him much how she saw her dragon, lonely and wanting to be loved. Aemond never understood how she saw him for anything but a drunken fool who wanted her to warm his bed but Aegon had never touched her. 

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