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eunsuri · 1 year

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Sanctuary

Pairing: Namor x Reader

Summary: While spending time in your sanctuary, Namor's latest artwork captures your attention.

Word Count: 1287

A/N: I just can't get this beautiful, stunning, gorgeous man out of my mind so I had to write this. This was meant to be a lot longer, but I hated the flashback so I cut it down to something cute and sweet for now hehe hope y'all enjoyyy! Let ya girl know what you think 🤍

For those who prefer to read on AO3, I’ve also posted it there! 🤍

Sanctuary; protection or a safe place. That’s what Namor’s cavern had become to you over the years. Your sanctuary.

Talokan was beautiful, it was almost unbelievable to see an entire nation built underwater, a sun made of vibranium glowing above Namor’s gilded throne, bringing light to the depths of the ocean. You would gladly spend hours on end just exploring the kingdom, and speaking to locals who initially gawked at you, a surface dweller, swimming through their cities. But this cavern was your safe haven.

A relaxed sigh slipped through your lips, tilting your head back to take in the magnificent art in front of you. You would often find Namor there, painting stories intricately across the walls, splashes of vibrant colors melted together to create a visual history of his world. It was his sanctuary too.

You gently tugged his cloak closer over your shoulders as you stood, stepping closer to the wall and tracing your fingers over the figure which depicted himself, along with the Black Panther, telling the story of the alliance formed with Wakanda. A small smile pulled at the corners of your lips, your eyes trailing to the left where you discovered a more recent painting, a familiar figure decorating the wall.

It was your story.

Your escape from the research facility, the crash landing into the large cave, your near death at Namor’s hand. You were a surface dweller with strange power he had not seen in all the centuries he’d lived, trapped in a research facility, as scientists attempted to take your power and reproduce it to create more enhanced individuals.

In your escape, you’d found yourself sent crashing into the waters of Yucatán, where you’d awakened in a large cave with a destroyed ship and surrounded by Talokanil warriors. Namor would have killed you that day for endangering his people, knowing your escape could lead more surface dwellers to Talokan.

“Do you know what they would do to my people?” He’d spoken dangerously into your ear, gripping your jaw in his hand. “You are too dangerous to be kept alive here.”

And yet, when they came for you, the two of you fought side by side along with the Talokanil army. The agents were slain before they could even reach the water, wiping any trace of your location from the organization.

When he saw how you cared for his people, aiding any of the wounded that you could and shielding his underwater lands, Namor offered you protection. So long as you remained in Talokan, keeping their nation hidden and protected, you would be safe from the clutches of the surface world.

This was your home now, your safe haven; where you were free to live as you were, in the depths of the ocean, hidden in underwater caverns.

Your heart swelled at the memories, the lingering scent of Namor wrapped around your shoulders, his cloak warming your skin. The paint was still fresh on the mural, his tools strewn about on the rocky table behind you, waiting to be cleansed for his next piece.

Namor was a magnificent storyteller, through both his words and his art. His words rung through your ears, memories from when he’d told you the story of how Talokan came to be, about his mother. It was heart-wrenching to hear how his people had fallen victim to the death and diseases brought by Spanish invaders, how they had to leave their lives on the surface and begin anew underwater.

"He called me, 'El Niño sin Amor', 'the child without love'. And I took my name from there. Namor. Because I have no love for the surface world."

It was strange to hear, for a man who was filled with so much love for his people, his nation, the world they’d created for themselves where they could survive without the threat of the death and diseases brought by the surface. He had no love for the surface world or its people, and he would do anything to protect his home from being ravaged again. Yet, he’d found love in a surface dweller.

Rippling water behind you broke you from your thoughts, the sound of jewelry lightly clicking and wings fluttering, causing your heart to skip a beat at his presence. His footsteps were light as he made his way to your side, his figure towering to your right, the golden bands on his wrists glimmering in the corner of your eye. You couldn’t restrain the smile that tugged at your lips, turning silently to face him.

“My love,” you greeted, before reaching for his hair, pushing it back to reveal more of his face. Namor’s hair was thick between your fingers, it soaked your skin with water as it folded into place.

He was beautiful. From his pointed ears, to the curve of his nose, and his wet lips, which curved into a smile of his own, while his eyes trailed down your cloaked body.

“It suits you,” he complimented, running his hands over your shoulders where the cloak hung and down your arms. “I could have one made for you, as my queen.”

You shook your head, lowering your gaze with a light laugh as a warmth spread across your cheeks. It wasn’t the first time he’d suggested something like this, but it could never be that simple.

“Please, amor. A surface dweller as queen? There would be an outrage.” You chuckled at the idea, lifting your head while he tugged you closer to the warmth of his body.

“Well, yes.” He nodded, shrugging his adorned shoulders, the stunning jewelry around his neck clicking as it shifted. “But your home is here now. You are no longer a surface dweller, an outsider.”

“And yet, some still look at me as one.” You pressed back softly and shook your head once more.

You both knew such a prospect could divide the Talokanil, though they loved and revered Namor as K'uk'ulkan, the fear and hatred for the surface world burned in many of their hearts. To see an outsider from the surface take a throne alongside their leader would cause confusion and go against the beliefs of many. While the people showed kindness and respect to you for the work you had done to protect them, some remained wary of your presence. The risk was too high.

Tearing yourself away from the idea, you nodded towards the mural on the wall with his latest creation. “It’s beautiful.”

The warmth of his hand cupped your cheek, bringing comfort to your mind as he regarded you with those deep eyes. The eyes that once glared at you threateningly, ready to kill you, now gazed at you with an adoration that made your heart swell and your stomach flutter. His touch brought you peace and safety. A breath you didn’t know you were holding in escaping quietly through your lips.

“Thank you, for protecting me.” You spoke softly, placing your hand over his and leaning into the comfort of his warmth with a light kiss to his palm.

Namor brought you forward, lowering his forehead to your own. “I’ve waited centuries for you, In yakunaj.” My love. The cool surface of his jewelry tickled at your skin. “You are mine now, and I will always protect you, as long as I live.”

“In k’áatech.” I love you. You knew he loved it when you spoke his tongue, rewarded with an affectionate smile. “And I will be by your side, always.”

He closed the distance between your lips and you melted into the kiss, feeling all your love pour into him as he drowned you with his own. “In k’áatech.”

He was everything. He was your love, your home, and your sanctuary.

#black panther #wakanda forever #mcu namor #namor #namor x reader #kukulkan #mcu #namor x you #namor fic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 day

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Winter's King 9

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: I can't explain why but damn I'm so tiredddd.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

As you approach the capital, you can’t help but poke your head up to admire the domes of the great castle and the high towers. The gates stand open as the party advances, in wait of their new liege and lord. You shield your eyes against the sun as you gaze at the silhouette of the mighty architecture.

“May as well get a good gander,” Bryce says, “doubt the kitchens are any more glorious than the ones you know.”

“Mm,” you retract your gaze and sigh, “suppose. But they will still be new to me.”

“Not all that is new is wondrous,” he girds. “For as much as I’ve seen in this world, it is the familiar that keeps me sane.”

You nod and let the cart rock you. Ahead of you, the horses tread over rocks and dirt, wagons bounce and creak, and some servants walk afoot to ease the cramps in their legs. You lean lazily on a chest and fold your hands in your lap. It will at least be nice to stay beneath a proper roof again.

The streets of the city are crowded with faces. They do not holler for you but you can hear the raucous uproar ahead as the king and queen ride between the citizens. There are even more black and grey soldiers stationed along the roads, awaiting your arrival.

As you wind up to the royal castle, the noise grows tantamount. At the walls of the grand structure, clusters of people threaten to crush the party between their writhing bodies. It takes some time after the king’s entrance for the luggage to make way into the courtyard.

The carts depart around the back of the castle as the horses make way for the stables. You climb out as Bryce lurks around, dismounting Daisy with a grunt as he rubs his lower back. You glance over at him as the other servants quickly fall into work.

“Maid,” he calls to you before you can follow suit, “no doubt the queen will need to wash away the road before she faces the hordes.”

He beckons you forth with his gauntlet and you diligently near him. He hands off Daisy to a castle servant and carries on inside. You scurry beside him as he stops and gauges his surroundings. He is not versed with the corridors but he presses on unimpeded.

You turn back a few times before you reach the great hall. It is crowded and chaotic. The soldier strides through without pause. You nearly grab onto him just to keep from being lost in the stirring of soldiers and servants, and the tittering lords and ladies in their colourful garb.

Up the stairs and a few questions grunted to his comrades, Bryce takes you down to a set of chambers with yet another soldier before it. You’re let inside without question. You find Queen Jazlene before a steaming basin as another servant cleans her face.

The queen scrunches up her nose and swats the lady servant, the maid still in the former king’s colours; burnt autumn orange and goldenrod yellow.

“Watch my eyes, you moron,” Jazlene chides and jabs her nail into the maid’s ribs.

“My lady, I didn’t mean--”

“I am a queen, not a lady,” Jazlene hisses, “be gone before I have your teeth knocked out of that stupid mouth of yours.”

The other maid wrings the cloth and steps back on her heel, chewing on an apology before she spins to flee. As she nears the door, she notices you and gives a panicked look. You reach to take the cloth from her before you go to the queen.

“Your highness,” you greet her and dip the cloth back in the steaming water. “Would you like me to put ribbons in your hair?”

“Mm, I suppose,” she tilts her face up and closes her eyes, “once the dirt is gone. By gods, I hate traveling.”

You gently wipe along her hairline and trace the outline of her face. You delicately but intently clean away the errant dust and streaks. You drape the cloth over the brim of the basin and turn to the table.

“And would you like your lips painted?” You intone. “Your highness, I do think your natural tones are beautiful.”

As you peek back at her, her eyes open and she stares at you. Her nostrils compress as she inhales. She puts her head straight and looks at her reflection.

“Do you think so?” She touches her cheeks.

“Yes, I do, if you line your eyes, they might appear bigger but they are so lovely and dark already,” you compliment.

She hums and tilts her head, turning her attention back on you, “it’s you.”

You lower your head, “your highness?”

“You’re always flitting around like some bird,” she sniffs, “suppose you are not so... agitating as the other. Yes, ribbons and some kohl. Then I will have one of the former queen’s gowns. They have delivered her wardrobe to me.”

“Yes, your highness,” you say and go to work.

You settle into your usual lull. The queen sips from her goblet as you twine ribbons with her curls, a halo around the crown of her head as coiling strands hang down to her back. She looks even more immaculate than you’ve seen her before.

She calls for a dress and you bring her several options from those strewn across the large bed. She chooses the lavender and you help her into the light silk. You relace it to account for her lither figure, the former queen having some extra years in her hips.

When she is dressed, she twirls before the mirror. She stops and sets her chin straight and glares at herself. She arches a brow coyly.

“I cannot wait to see Lady Florence,” she scoffs, “she will choke when she realises I am her queen.”

You linger by the wall, blending into the tapestry as she sighs and eyes the glass affectionately. She primps herself and spins again.

“Well then, I must be overdue,” she goes to the door, “I must go to the king and show him I can be his queen.”

You open the door for her and follow her out. The soldiers outside glance at her but do not move or speak. Bryce comes up beside you as you trail after Jazlene. She struts to the end of the corridor and is stopped by another guard at another door.

“Do not think to stop me,” she spits, “I am the queen,” she flicks her fingers in his direction, “don’t be absurd.”

The man lets her through as she tugs on the latch and his dull eyes stare past her. She hardly has the effect she thinks. People do not admire her so much as they tolerate her.

She sweeps into the chamber as you wait outside. Bryce lets out a gritty breath and taps his fingers on his sword pommel. He chews more of the sweet leaves he loves so much. Jazlene emerges with a doe-like look.

“Where is the king?” She exclaims.

“He has gone to address the people,” the guard picks at his teeth. “He tired of waiting--”

“Do not tell me about the king,” Jazlene snaps on the soldier, “ugh, let us find my husband. How can he think to face my people without me at his side?”

She storms onward and you can only follow. She will no doubt need wine sooner than later, though you wish she might take more water or milk instead. Bryce keeps your pace slowed as he makes little haste.

As she descends the steps, you can hear the king’s voice. The crowd is hushed, almost hypnotised as he speaks from atop a chair. Somehow, he is both overwhelming and unassuming. Jazlene shows as she sees him. The crowd does not move out of her way as they are rapt in his words.

“...do not come as conquerer, but as liberator,” he declares, “I am not here to suppress but to unite. Our kingdoms, forged together as one, can attain glory. Peace. Joy. Our people needn’t suffer the droughts or frost rot without relief. By coming together, we will join summer and winter in harmony,” the king holds his sword, the tip on the armrest of the wooden chair, “to you lords who stayed loyal to Waleran, I do not seek retribution. You only did your duty and served the king you put an oath to. You had no part in his violations upon myself. I am aware you could not rein in your greedy master. You will keep what is yours, as by rights, but you will swear fealty to the new crown.”

King Geralt looks around the hall, “I have spoken to the farmers and the peasants, I have seen the beauty of your lands. I wish not to ravage it but to build it. You will not have only from me writs and declarations, you will have fields sown, you will have harvests reaped, you will have coin in flow, and you will have full bellies.”

He raises his great sword over his head. The large weapon could be held only by two-hands in anothers grasp but he lifts it effortlessly.

“I saw how your king tucked tail when he saw me on the field. After you good lords followed him to battle and sacrificed your men and your blood. He could not stand and fight, but many of you did, many of you not here today. I will not let their souls be spent in vain,” he pauses and his golden eyes rove around the room. He points his sword suddenly towards you but not quite, at Jazlene, “I have taken a summer wife.” He curls his fingers to gesture her to him. People swivel to see her and clear the path to the king, “a winter’s king must have a summer’s queen, if our kingdoms our to rise anew.”

Jazlene sways before she gets her footing. She moves forward, chin high as she lets a grin break out over her face. She looks this way and that, gloating as she goes to her husband. He steps down as she approaches and he takes her hand. He helps her up on the chair herself and she seems almost confused by the act.

“Queen Jazlene of Debray,” King Geralt proclaims, “she will return with me to the Hinterlands to see that order is kept across our realm and perhaps, the next time I look upon you all, I will have an heir to present to you. A young prince to lead us into the sun ahead.”

He raises Jazlene’s hand as she fawns. The crowd breaks out in racket, voices swelling to the rooves as you’re jostled against Bryce. The lords and ladies, servants and soldiers, throw up fists and hoot and holler.

The king brings his sword up again, silence falling at the gleam of its silver blade, “but first, a feast!”

The fervour is even louder as the hall explodes in glee. You hear it ripple out the doors into the crowd without and like an ocean, the tides carry through the courtyard and front gates, streaming into the city. Peace has come and old grudges cannot take the shine from the gift of a king’s mercy.

⚔️

“Your highness, we heard of what happened on Stag’s River,” an earl, you think he said his name was Kelvan, “it was a brave stand. Admirable, even standing upon the other ridge.”

“You were there?” King Geralt muses, “mm, how fortunate our paths did not cross.”

“Indeed, your highness,” the earl agrees, “I must admit, I dreaded it.”

“But here we are, alive, together, as allies. It is all I ever wanted.”

“And we knew it. We knew it, my liege, for when you let our men march back at all, we saw your grace,” Kelvan smiles.

“Yes, but I have only ever admired your lands, never had I wanted to ruin them,” the king assures as he looks over at his wife.

“He is a brave and good king,” Queen Jazlene praises as she puts her hand over the king’s.

Lord Kelvan’s lips ripple, “mm, yes, I have not seen your father yet. If I shan’t happen upon the Duke, you will send my regards.”

There’s an edge that makes you uneasy. You see how Jazlene bobs her head, “so I shall.”

She doesn’t seem to notice the tick of resent in the earl’s cheek. How odd it is that they are so fond of the invader and yet their own kith and kin, they cannot help but revile. You’ve heard the whispers swirling already. It was not King Geralt who betrayed these people but this snakish woman and her blood.

“Wine, girl, now,” Jazlene snaps as the early departs back to his seat.

You stand against the wall, just behind the bench she shares with the king. You come forward with the jug reserved only for her, nearing between the shoulders of the royal couple. Before you can put the spout to brim, King Geralt’s hand catches the swollen belly of the ewer.

“Perhaps you might have some more lamb before you indulge further, wife,” he girds.

“It is a feast,” she slurs, “I am only celebrating. With you,” she touches his sleeve, “my king.”

“I see that,” his voice is low but firm, “yet you are a queen and your subjects are watching.”

“I can stomach my wine,” she sneers.

He huffs and wraps his hand around the bottom of the handle, just below your grip. He wiggles it away from you and sets it on the other side of his plate. Jazlene lets out a childish gasp.

“It is just wine,” she snivels.

King Geralt runs his fingers along his collar, “we are having a good night,” he says as he peers out on the crowd, “please, let us not make a scene.”

“I am not making a scene. I am the queen and I want more wine,” she insists.

He faces forward completely. You stay as you are, trapped in their indecision. He blocks the jug with his elbow and she claps her hands on her lap and kicks her feet.

“Perhaps you should have some of that wine,” she mutters, “it might make you kinder.”

The king doesn’t reply and instead greets another lord; one who introduces himself as the Count of Bress. As they speak, Jazlene leans back on the bench and tugs your skirt. You look down at her.

“Find more wine,” she growls, “and don’t be obvious about it.”

“Your highness, but the king--”

“I am your master, not him,” she snarls and nudges you harshly, “be away before I lose my patience.”

You dip your head and notice how the king’s head turns towards his wife. You don’t look back as you critter off quickly into the shadows. You might be better to take your time and tell her you could not abscond any more wine. If you wait long enough, it might even slip her mind, as so often her desires fade into the next.

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #medieval au #au #series #the witcher #winter's king

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espion7971 · 2 months

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SkyWing tribe sheet!

my computer always fucks up colors in export for some reason and its really obvious with these guys :( i promise they're more saturated my computer just sucks

anyway i really liked doing these guys, skywings are fun and i think they have a lot of potential. enjoy!

Physical Appearance + Traits:

-SkyWings, as their name suggests, are dragons made for the wind and sky. They are better fliers than any other tribe, with enormous wings and several birdlike features. Some can fly for more than a day without landing, and even when they aren’t flying they make their homes at the peaks of mountains, with the entire world beneath them.

-They are quite large, taller than any other tribe, with long necks, long tails, and regal figures. They don’t have any obviously deadly weapons, but they have no clear weaknesses either; they are generally successful dragons.

-Their coloration consists of almost entirely warm colors, specifically red and orange. Yellows and golds are sometimes seen too, and more uncommonly, purples and browns. Their colors are bold and striking; they are one of the few Pyrrhian tribes that has no need for camouflage.

-Young dragonets are hatched with a coating of feathers, particularly on their wings, necks and tails. Most dragons simply shed their feathers as they grow; some, though, carry a few into adulthood, usually lining their wings or making a thin ruff around their necks. These feathers are often even brighter than their scales.

-SkyWing horns are a mark of pride, and they continue to grow for as long as they live, meaning some of the oldest SkyWings have horns that resemble enormous and heavy antlers. Sometimes their horns are decorated with wires strung with jewels.

-SkyWing fire is the hottest and most powerful fire any tribe can produce. At its hottest it scorches through bone, and it can be used with accuracy from a long distance. It is their main weapon in combat, and quite a devastating one if their opponents don’t know how to properly fight it. They also use it for a number of other things, though. (More on this in the “society and culture” section.)

-Their wings are stronger than those of most tribes, allowing them to temporarily use them for balance rather than their front legs. This lets them hold and work on things more easily. (This headcanon belongs to @sidyashchiy-na-plakhe!! i saw your post and really liked it, hope you dont mind me adopting it)

-Not dissimilar to SandWings, they have darker streaks near their eyes to help with the glare of the sun when they’re flying, often facing the horizon directly.

Life Cycle:

-SkyWings are hatched in clutches between one and five, although four and five are a bit less common than one through three. SkyWing parents are not involved much with their dragonets. By tradition, they lay eggs in nests high in the mountain peaks, and return occasionally with food once they hatch. The rare unlucky SkyWing newborn may be snatched up by a large bird, but they’re big enough that it isn’t usually an issue. They are also hatched with disproportionately massive wings, big enough to make the fall less likely to be lethal if they fall before they learn to fly.

-Once the dragonets are large enough, though, or once they get hungry enough to search for their own food, they will leave the nest, often simply jumping out and letting the wind carry them, learning to properly fly quite quickly. Once parents notice that the nest is empty, they simply stop bringing food. They will never know who their dragonets are, but SkyWing superstition says all dragonets will eventually make their way to the kingdom, where they will be made a part of the tribe. And, truthfully, they almost always do.

-This practice, which some tribes find strange or even barbaric, is seen by Skywings as an important part of their life and tradition. Each of them took the same journey, and so did the generation before them, so they have faith that it will continue to work out well. It’s in their nature to leave their nest and find the kingdom, and it doesn’t result in enough casualties for them to try to halt the tradition. The only dragons this practice does not apply to is the royal family, for the sake of tracking bloodlines.

-By the time they are entered into the wider kingdom, dragonets usually know how to hunt and avoid danger, so all tribe life offers them is the ability to meet other dragons and find work. There isn’t much of an education system in place, with the exception of mentorships for some careers, such as metalworking, and military training. If they take part in work for the kingdom, they’ll have societal benefits and a secure place in the tribe, and most end up in that position eventually. But there are always a few SkyWings who simply live on the outskirts, uninterested in the larger tribe.

-They don’t form many close relationships, being fairly solitary dragons as soon as they leave their siblings. They do not very often form genuine romantic relationships, but marriage is fairly common simply as a formality or political maneuver. Royals in particular almost always get married, though they don’t usually form natural bonds with their spouses. The only responsibilities parents have is bringing food to their nest until the dragonets abandon it.

Culture and Society:

-SkyWings are proud and solitary; these things combined have given them a reputation of being rude, aloof and uncharismatic. They are powerful fighters and fliers, but their strength is not in diplomacy. Their kingdom norms, though, which allow every dragon to simply utilize for the tribe whatever talents they may have, at their own leisure and for whatever profit might be available to them, suits them well and has made for an uncomplicated but successful society. (This is excluding a few periods such as the reign of Queen Scarlet, who reshaped the tribe into something more dictatorial.)

-They are generally quite matriarchal; every tribe has a queen, but SkyWings tend to have a more overall unbalanced system. Females are a bit larger than males and are usually in higher positions of command.

-Fire is extremely important to SkyWing culture - it produces light, warmth, and without it they would be much less deadly in combat. It has its place in almost every tradition and is used in almost every career path.

-They are the most superstitious tribe in some ways, their lives dictated heavily by tradition and spirituality. The way dragonets are raised is one example; there are countless others, including funeral rites that involve burning, gladiator fights performed for glory, a general belief of night marking bad luck, and others.

-Continuing on this note, SkyWings - though most would never admit it aloud - are almost universally afraid of the dark. The caves and caverns in which they live are always warm and well-lit, via torches lit by their own fire, and they are almost exclusively out by day. They worship the sun and daytime, believing it to chase away the shadows in its glory. NightWings, for similar reasons, tend to be unnerving to them.

-And to elaborate on gladiator fights: The arena near the palace was originally constructed for SkyWings to prove their prowess by fighting other SkyWings and completing various challenges. During these fights they would wear a special set of ceremonial armor, which they could then keep if they succeeded. (Scarlet, of course, transformed this arena into a convenient way to execute prisoners, and later Queen Ruby reinvented it completely by erecting a hospital where it had once stood.)

-In general, SkyWings are one of the only tribes to wear armor, and the only tribe that has used it for entire armies during war. A particular emphasis is placed on wing armor that allows for comfortable flight while still protecting the wing membranes, as a flightless SkyWing is considered as good as dead by its tribe.

-Jewelry almost always involves precious stones, particularly rubies, diamonds and citrine. It’s very common to have these jewels embedded in scales; some royals have done this with such excess that they appear to have crystals growing out of them.

Diet: Carnivorous. They eat birds, mountain goats, deer, and occasionally fish, rodents or whatever else they can catch. Sometimes raw, sometimes scorched. They don’t typically make full and elaborate meals like other tribes; the only common seasoning they use is salt. Other than the rare use of herbs for flavoring, they eat no plants at all.

#wings of fire #wof art #wof headcanons #skywings #my posts

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fleurhcss · 2 months

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‧˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆ - 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫 - Minho x FEM Reader !

cw : apocalyptic scenery, fantasy, war between planets, futuristic content, reader appears in his dreams, Minho planet prince au!, premonition, strangers to lovers, fluff in the end, aliens, reader is a magician who has a radiant aura

sw : space sex, sex in a spacecraft, unprotected sex, anal, fingering, oral (f! receiving), MDNI, masturbation, blowjob, marks, nipples play

wc : 6.130

synopsis : Minho is the prince of Aindriks Ux'ids, which is at war with another planet, Creknok, over some political issues. His kingdom is constantly being attacked by some diabolical aliens that he and his soldiers are constantly fighting. In the nights when he can sleep, he keeps dreaming of a radiant woman (reader) who is a magician who will save his people when the planet will be destroyed. And she will also guide him in his choices. When the catastrophe will happen, they will meet in person where the spaceship will take off, and the passion between them will flood in a post-apocalyptic scenery in his room inside the spaceship.

a/n : hii, here I am with another fic, this time more sweet and fluff I hope u will appreciate it the same as the last one 🎀🎀🎀 thank you for supporting my stories, send love and hugs to all of u

MASTERLIST

[ SMUT / FLUFF ]

From an early age, you were trained to use magic to protect yourself and others. This was your advantage over the other inhabitants of Aindriks Ux'ids. Your family belonged to a generation of ancestors who practised magic on your planet. You were often called upon by the kings to know how to move during battle. You were the firstborn of your generation; you were the Supreme. You trained and taught your brothers and sisters how to behave and how to use magic properly. And you were called to court when things went wrong. But you never appeared in the flesh; it was only your hologram that spoke to the ruler and the council of the planet's Supremes.

Your sanctuary was secret and you could not leave it unless the situation was serious. No one could know where you and your family lived, or you would be in danger. Many wanted to steal your magic with the planet's new technology, many tried and failed miserably. Many wanted you dead. But fortunately, you and your family had always been able to protect yourselves with the proper means. Sure, you resented not being able to have friends and go out like a normal girl of your age. But that was your duty.

Unfortunately, the situation on your planet, Aindriks Ux'ids, had been precarious for months. You often dreamed of its end and of the way the population would be wiped out by your enemies: the inhabitants of Creknok.

They were determined to destroy you, they wanted your planet as it was one of the most powerful and advanced, and had allied themselves with lesser planets to drive you from your land. So far your advanced machines, your satellites and guardians had managed to contain the situation, but more and more planets had begun to turn against yours in their quest for power. So you had entered a war.

Unfortunately, the king, the supreme guardian of your planet, was too tired and old to lead a war, so he crowned his son as his new regent: Minho. A mighty, strong boy and a brave warrior. One of the greatest technicians and computer scientists in the history of Aindriks Ux'ids. He was undeniably handsome, and you often had unchaste thoughts about him. After all, you were a woman with your own needs. He was not too tall, well-built and muscular: when he wore his armour, you could see his muscles flexing and well defined. His thighs were so muscular that you wanted to bite them. They looked as if they were made of steel. His face was as beautiful as any. A prominent and important nose. Full lips. Feline, blue eyes. Red hair, soft. Prominent, hollowed cheekbones. You thought you had never seen a man of such beauty in your life.

And unfortunately for you, you had not had the opportunity to witness the extraordinary beauty of the now Prince Regent of Aindriks Ux'ids in any of the councils you had attended, except in devices. You wondered why he was never there. Only his father was. It was strange, really, that a good future king had to attend the councils to understand what were the right and wise decisions and what were the unseemly ones. When you asked your mother about this, she said it was his choice not to attend: when he became king, he would only want to follow his instincts. You wondered, however, whether it was a wise or an impulsive decision.

That day you were going to have an important meeting with the Government of your planet, to discuss how to create barriers to protect it. Technology was effective, of course, but not permanent. They needed your magic, you were an indispensable force for the planet. Unfortunately, even this time you were unable to meet the Prince Regent. Your curiosity was high, you wanted to meet him, to know what he was like, why he made the decisions he did. You wanted to know who this Minho really was, who was being hailed as the greatest future ruler in the history of the planet, and one of the greatest warriors and computer scientists in the history of the galaxy. What was it about this man that made him such a prodigy? Questions kept popping up in your mind, and you needed answers. Not least because his help was needed to save the planet. If only you had been able to talk to him, together you might have been able to protect the planet for a while longer, at least long enough to finish building the large spaceship that would house the population in case of explosion.

Yes, Minho and a number of technicians were building a spaceship that would be able to accommodate the entire population of Aindriks Ux'ids. Your touch would only be the finishing touch to make it indestructible. You had been studying for this spell for months. It was very important for the preservation of your beloved planet and your beloved people. Who knows if, in that case, you would have met Minho.

That night, however, you had an idea. There was a spell, rarely used because it was considered dangerous; that allowed the sorceress who used it to appear in other people's dreams. Perhaps that was how you could have met Minho. Appear in his dreams to talk to him about the situation on the planet, to help him with his decisions. Like an oracle. You would have been his guide and protector during this war.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

You spend the following week looking for this spell and practising it carefully so that you don't make a mistake and maybe appear in someone else's dream. That would be the crucial night, you would try to appear in Minho's dream so that you could talk to him. You would not deny that you were afraid that you would not succeed, that you would fail. But it was something that haunted you, and failure was not an option in this case. You had to succeed at all costs and be able to convince Minho without frightening him. Besides, he had never seen you before and did not know who you were, so appearing so suddenly in a dream was very dangerous. But nothing could stop you, you were determined despite the fear that gripped you. You had worked so hard to get where you were, so you would make it.

Night fell, and you wasted no time in pulling out your book. It seemed almost comical that in a world full of new technology and sophisticated machinery, you still had to use such an ancient practice to save your planet. It was also the only thing that made you feel real. Human. The rest was just a collection of iron parts and algorithms.

You sighed before locking yourself in your room, in the silence and darkness of your sanctuary. You spoke what must have been the magic formula and everything around you disappeared, you were in the middle of the desert field of your planet, you felt it was not real, but you wondered why you were there. Had Minho dreamed this? Why on earth would he dream of this place? You couldn't even make out his shape. There was no one around you. It was as if you were scattered in this place. "Minho?" You screamed. You had to be heard, he had to hear you. But it was a strange feeling that came over you afterwards, as if something had been catapulted into the dream itself.

You saw a muscular figure coming towards you. His silhouette was well defined, as were the lines of his muscles. He had a distinctive face, eyes as feline as the predatory gaze he wore. Fleshy lips were tight as he approached you at a brisk pace. It was undoubtedly Minho. Though this dream was not reality, you felt a warmth spreading in your belly as this authority figure approached you. Your lips parted, leaving your mouth open. He was the most handsome man you had ever seen. There was no doubt that he was a ruler : his posture, his mannerisms, his appearance, spoke for themselves. When you were face to face, a small sigh escaped your lips. His gaze was cautious, examining you as if he wanted to read you. He was cautious, defensive.

"Who are you? What are you doing here? How did I get here?" he said confusedly, examining you from head to toe. You were aware that this would not be an easy idea of yours, just as you were aware that Minho might have refused your help and thrown you out. So you plucked up courage: "I am Y/N, you must have heard of me. I have been helping your family for generations with our family magic. I have brought you here to meet you, I need to talk to you about our planet Minho. You need my help, we are in great danger. You must trust me and follow my advice." His gaze was frowning; it was clear that he did not trust your words, let alone you. But you could and should have seen that coming, after all he had never seen you before. "Before you say anything, I am here with the sole purpose of saving my people. I only want to help you, making decisions alone is not always a wise choice, Minho," you finished. His gaze was softer, but still stern and wary.

"Which reassures me that I can trust you and that you are not some hologram of a nearby enemy?" he said, stepping back. You laughed, it was obvious he knew nothing of magical practices. On the other hand, he was puzzled, he had been fascinated by your form, luminous and radiant. He had never seen anything like it, perhaps because all he knew were the machines and the spaceships he had been working on for months. He felt somehow and strangely drawn to you and your person. By the way, you had appeared out of nowhere to offer him your help. "Because you can't catapult yourself into someone's dreams with technology. It is a dangerous magical practice that must be studied carefully. That is why you understand the importance of my intervention here. I cannot leave my safe house and the holograms are no longer safe. Trust me, Minho." And so he approached you, trying to touch you. He felt the warmth of your skin, saw its shine. It was incredible, it felt as if you were right there with him. And it was the same for you, because you felt his warmth. He caressed your face as if to make sure you were real and not a bad joke his mind had invented for all the times he had dreamed of being next to a woman. After all, he was also a man with his own needs, which unfortunately limited his duties.

After all, he was constantly at war and busy, many alien forms began to attack your planet, popping up like mushrooms. There was no respite; nights when he could sleep were rare. That very day, he and his knights had fought a horde of alien soldiers sent by Creknok to discover the method of building your satellites. Unfortunately, your magical barrier had not been enough; their forces had taken hold too quickly. That is why you had felt the urgency to communicate with the royal figure that Minho was. "I will trust you Y/N, don't make me regret it."

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

Minho had forgotten the last night when he had slept well; he had spent his time thinking about the recent events on his planet so much that it was impossible for his brain to switch off or relax. He had spent two days in a row fighting alien invasions that left the planet deserted, much of their precious armour destroyed, and he was constantly thinking of a way to speed up the construction of the spaceship that would save his people. But something else was on his mind: the conversation he had with you. He kept thinking about the way you had appeared to him in a dream and offered him your hand during the long and tiring war. He thought about how beautiful you were and what it would have been like to hold you in his arms at that moment. Then he remembered that his duty came first; he could not afford to give in to desire and temptation when his planet was dying. Since the last time your conversation had been interrupted before it was fully born, he had not spoken to you because of the invasion of Creknok's senior soldiers, but he desperately needed to see you. He wanted your opinion, he wanted your help. For the first time, he accepted that someone outside his father was giving him advice. He felt strange, different. But when he saw you for the first time that night, he could not stop thinking about you.

That night, however, you managed to enter your thoughts and saw a spark cross his face. You approached him, smiling, and just to confirm how real you were, he caressed your soft, warm skin. "I haven't been able to sleep for days at the thought of failing and seeing what I'm fighting for destroyed, Y/N. I never thought I'd say this, but I don't know what to do," he said, covering his face. You were sorry to see him like that, you could only imagine the weight on his shoulders at that moment. After all, you had been through this kind of pain yourself. You stroked the back of his head, moving a few strands of hair away from his face. "You are one of the most powerful princes in the history of our planet, Minho, you will not fail. You are building a ship to save us all, that is not failing. It is helping your people in a time of great need. Continue as you are now, fight to the end for your people. Don't give up. I will do my best to help you with the ship. Magic is a precious commodity, you must use it. Let me do my part, you already do so much," you smiled. And Minho thanked you mentally. He showed you his smile for the first time.

It was beautiful, it was inevitable for you to think that. It was as if a greater force was pushing you towards him. You felt that you could become one with him. And maybe it was too strong a desire that pushed your bodies together, as if you could really feel each other's warmth. Minho stroked your skin while you stroked his thigh with gentle caresses. "You are special Y/N. If I had known that earlier, I would have liked to join the government councils," he chuckled. And you couldn't help smiling too.

"Tomorrow, fight bravely. The end is near, we must resist. Don't give up, you are the best. Hit the backs of the soldiers in the east side, they are the weakest and will give in much easier. This will cause the rest of the army to retreat, I have studied their dynamics. Meanwhile, I will prepare a spell, the most powerful spell in history, and it will finish off your ship. Good luck, Prince."

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

You had visited Minho's dreams many times during the week, and the two of you had inevitably grown closer. You had seen the gentle side of this prince, who fought bravely for his homeland without fear and with his usual feline gaze. It was a side of Minho you had not expected. In a world ready to be destroyed, he was your safe place. At night, you couldn't wait to catch up and spend time with him, advising him on what was best for your planet, helping him with all your might.

Following your advice and knowledge, he fought every enemy array, and your army triumphed, but the forces of the planet's government against Aindriks Ux'ids were too many. Alas, defeat was inevitable, you knew it and you had seen it. The stars and the prophecies spoke clearly. They had prepared everything. You had cast a powerful spell, one of the greatest spells in the history of magic, on the now defunct spaceship by Minho that would take every citizen immediately to safety. It had been a spell so powerful that it had exhausted you, as if it had drained some of your life energy. But you had done that and more for your people. Still, this was your last night in the sanctuary. You could feel it coursing through your veins that the next day it would all be gone. That your planet would be destroyed in so many micromolecules. Or, at best, into many small stars.

However, it was inevitable that you would feel a certain connection with Minho. It was as if you were now one. That night you should have met Minho and warned him of your premonition. The population should have started evacuating to the spaceship; you had to escape from this place if you wanted to get out safely. It was your only hope.

As usual, you uttered the incantation before being catapulted into the middle of the desert. Minho's solid, statuesque figure was waiting for you, smiling as if you were the only thing that made him feel good. On the other hand, the only time he did not have to think about his duties, the war and the imminent end of your planet was when he was with you. He approached you at a brisk pace, holding you in his arms, caressing the skin uncovered by your robe, tracing imaginary circles and restraining himself from touching you. In the end, he knew it was all a dream; you were not there in the flesh. But that didn't stop him from wanting you. From the moment he first saw you, a lust had grown in him that went through the roof. It was obvious that he wanted you all to himself. Minho had never been in love, let alone had who knows how much time to devote to pleasure, except for the few times when the usual parties with the ladies of the court were held at the palace. But you were different, he could sense it. You were not an easy woman to find. But not because you were a sorceress, Minho liked you for your personality, your wisdom and the way you had offered to be his guide and sidekick in war without asking for anything in return.

"You look wonderful tonight," he whispered as he lay down on the warm sand, bringing your body together with his on the ground. You smiled, stroking his profile with your fingers as you worshipped him. "You know this will be the last night, don't you Minho?" you whispered wistfully, unsure if you would ever see him again. You saw his face harden as he bit his lower lip. "Tomorrow the planet will explode Minho, we can't change the future," you said, resting your head on his chest. He felt so warm and real under your touch. Instead, it was all just a dream, a product of your magic. "I want you to lead the people during the evacuation, Y/N. You are the only one I trust one hundred percent, the only one who can get our people to safety. I will be the last to reach you. I have to fight until my last breath. Wait for me, I will come back for you, I promise. I want to hold you in my arms. But if I do not return, I entrust my kingdom to you. I will tell my father. This is my will as Prince Regent," he said, stroking the back of your neck. You were shocked; you did not think Minho could go that far. You did not feel ready to lead a people, especially when two quarters of them wanted you dead. You looked at him with your mouth open, not knowing what to say. "My guards will provide all the protection you and your family need." He smiled. You felt your heart pound at the thought that this boy cared so much for you. "You will make it Minho, you will save us all. You are a brave warrior and an excellent ruler. All the people have faith in you," you said, stroking his lower lip. "What about you? Do you trust me?" he reached for your face, a few inches between you. "Blindly."

He smiled at you, moved closer and then placed his lips on yours, resulting in a desired kiss. You felt a flame behind you, like a volcano ready to erupt. Your cheeks were as red as his. He bit your lower lip, holding you close, it was obvious how much he wanted you. How much he longed for your body. Your soul. You were aware that this was not a real touch, skin against skin, but you wanted it, needed it. "If I'm not going to come back, at least let me do this." He smiled and slipped his hands under your robe, caressing your skin, your body. He began to mark your skin as if you were his.

His head landed between your thighs, branding them as if it were the last thing he could do. The last thing he wanted. He removed the cloth that covered your intimacy and looked into your eyes as if seeking your consent. All you could do was nod, welcoming his hair into your grip. He left a kiss on it, cupping your thighs, and then began to kiss it as if it were your lips. Moans began to come out of your mouth and you could no longer tell dream from reality, so pleasurable was it to receive this attention from the prince. His tongue traced its path across your cunt and you went crazy. His movements were quick, precise, he knew where he was going and what he was doing. Minho was confident when he touched you like that. The movements of his tongue on your pussy were long and fast. Your legs trembled and clasped the sides of his head as he sank between the walls of your vagina, licking like there was no tomorrow. Paradoxical. He was hungry as he ate you, tugging at flaps of skin with his teeth as he sucked what was between your legs, leaving you screaming with pleasure. His movements were impossible to resist. His tongue began to move in and out of your hole, moving as if it were his cock. He carefully penetrated you with the sole purpose of giving you pleasure. "You are delicious, I wish I could never get out of this position." He whispered between your thighs, making you go crazy and throw your head back. You wanted to do something for him as well. His erection was visible through his robe.

As his movements became more precise and deeper, you could only release yourself with a loud moan between his lips. He rose, licking his lips before planting a kiss on yours, allowing you to taste your own juices. "Allow me to reciprocate, my prince," you smiled, cupping his neck in a whisper. You straddled him and began to rub your vagina against the fabric covering his obvious erection, causing him to roll his eyes back. Your hands were tight on his chest as you held on, your ass moving quickly along his length. You could hear his moans as he pressed your pelvis against his, I loved his touch on you. "You're beautiful, keep it up Y/N" you heard your name as his panting lips drove you so crazy that you increased the speed of your movements on him. It wasn't long before you felt the fabric beneath you soaking with a thick liquid and his voice reaching a high pitch with pleasure.

"You are wonderful, I will return safely just to have you and make you mine." He whispered against your lips as he pressed your body against his. "I'm counting on it, Prince."

And you did count on it, looking forward to holding Minho's warm body in your arms. To feel his warmth, his voice. All you needed was Minho. All you wanted was him. You knew he would come back, you knew he would win this battle for his people, for his planet, for you. You wanted no one else but him at your side; he was the one man who had allowed your warrior side to emerge, your heart to blossom, all these years. You did not care about becoming a princess or a queen. The title wasn't what you were after when the only thing that mattered to you was Minho's love.

⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ♡

This chaotic morning had begun with numerous bombardments from enemy attacks throughout the western territory of Aindriks Ux'ids. The government had been informed of the Prince's wishes and had personally sent an escort to bring you and your family safely into the city. It had been two hours since you and other members of the army had helped the population get into the shuttle built by Minho, called Ndrakonis, which means "return" in your language. You had helped 3/4 of the population to escape through the smoke and holes caused by the explosions. There was only one last part left to evacuate. But your head was in chaos; you were afraid for Minho. You didn't want anything to happen to him. He was too important to you, to your people. The King had been the last person to board the ship after the last wave of people you had rescued from the rubble. The entire city had evacuated, missing only the army that was fighting with Minho and the latter.

You bit your lips in fear and could only hope for the best. The night before, you had offered to help him with a protective spell, but he had refused. He wanted to win as a brave warrior or lose his life in battle, no magic, no technology would have helped him. You admired that side of him so much. It was one of the things that had made you fall in love with him. Minho was not just another warrior or king, he showed you that over and over again.

When you saw a crowd of men running towards the entrance of the ship, you immediately recognised the figure of Minho from a distance. "It's the Prince! Come on, help him and close the doors immediately afterwards. We have to leave before we explode with the planet!" You screamed, making way for the army that was entering, led by the wounded Minho. As the doors were closed and the spaceship took to the skies, you approached the prince who was talking to his father. When he saw you, his lips parted, startling him. The father was about to present the two of you, but Minho cut him off. "Father, I know who she is. And to tell you the truth, she is the woman I told you about, the one who helped me fulfil my duties in a dream. So I ask you here, in front of the entire population of the planet, to do one important thing." You had no time to say anything, his voice thundered across the wide room, causing everyone to turn towards you, including your family. You blushed as he took you by the hand to make room beside him: "I ask you, Father, to marry this woman. And I ask you, sir, to take your daughter in marriage."

Your mouth fell open in shock, not expecting such a request from Minho. The whole village was shocked by the Prince's request. He approached you and kissed the back of your hand, him still bleeding. "You're even more beautiful like that." He smiled at you and kissed your forehead. You could not believe it. "Marry me, please," he asked in a whisper. "Whatever my prince asks, I will gladly do. But first, let me treat you." You took her hand and said that your care would also be available to the injured. Minho said with a smile that his were not serious and that he would wait for you to heal his people before he did, and said goodbye with a kiss on the lips.

⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ♡

When you had completed your heal duties to the population, who had begun to be grateful to you, you went to your family to clarify with them what had happened with the prince; there you told them how you had approached the Prince Regent. At first they were angry that you had used such a dangerous spell, but in the end they appreciated your love for the people and the wisdom you had shown in helping Minho during the war. As you bid them farewell, the royal guards were kind enough to escort you to the royal chambers, while the rest of the people were assigned to the various apartments on the ship.

You entered Minho's room with a broad smile and found him lying in his bed, waiting for your arrival. It did not take you a second to begin a spell that would completely heal his wounds, with one of the biggest and most beautiful smiles you could ever show. "Hello, my future queen, why don't you lie down with me for a while?" He smiled as he made room for you in his already huge bed. You smiled as you reached up and flanked him. "Look at you, you look wonderful in my arms in the flesh. You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment, Y/N," he said and then joined your lips in a warm, insatiable kiss. You felt all their desire, all their passion. The longing he had for you. You bit his lower lip and positioned yourself on his pelvis. "You have no idea how long I have waited for this moment, Minho. You are everything I could ever want, beautiful prince," you smiled, leaving a kiss at the base of his neck, cupping his neck and leaving a trail of marks on his skin, just as he had done to you the night before. "If you keep this up, Y/N, I could fuck you right now," he whispered in your ear, making your skin crawl. But you didn't back down, you wanted it too. You longed for him, craved him. "Do it, here and now. Fuck me."

That, only gave Minho the green light before he changed positions and began a passionate, ravenous kiss, as if he wanted to eat you. His hands took no more than two minutes to remove your robe along with his own. They wandered over your body, caressing your curves before finally stopping on your ass and beginning to massage it. Gasps began to escape your lips as he bit them, hungry for you. You began to move your pelvis forward so that your intimacies collided. It was not long before he surrendered to your touch, as if he had been bewitched by you. His body was beneath you as you ran your lips over it, biting his nipples. While your tongue focused on one, your index finger and thumb played with the other. Minho clutched your hair in a tight grip as your teeth tugged and bit at his nipple, alternating with the other as soon as you were done with one. Your hands ran down his body, marking his muscular, veiny arms, his toned chest and his sculpted abs that ended in his hard, prepuce-rich length. You looked at him ravenously, moving slowly towards his intimacy as if with a look of defiance. "If you keep looking at me like that, I might cum right now," the older one moaned as he thrust his pelvis up in search of friction. But you giggled, you wouldn't let me. And if you had, you would have overstimulated him.

You came to his length and, without saying a word, included it in your mouth entirely. You wanted to please your future husband. You began to stimulate his testicles with your hands, licking from the base to the tip. You traced the veins with the tip of your tongue until you had sucked the whole length. Your hands gripped his muscular thighs, leaving scratches that were unlikely to disappear on their own. Minho tried to push the whole length deeper but you stopped him and pulled away. "Take your time my prince, we have all night," you sneered, then licked the tip and took it all back into your mouth, slowly. So slowly that Minho felt himself going crazy. "If you keep going so slowly, I could do it myself, Y/N." He said impatiently and you grinned again. Your tongue reached the tip of his length again and began to wrap around it, with firm, slow lapping strokes, while you still stimulated his testicles with your hands. "Shut up, hmm?" You continued to suck the tip. You closed your eyes. The young man's hands were clenched in your hair as moans of pleasure came from his mouth. Your tongue reached his slit and began to move in circles over it, making Minho's moans even louder than the previous ones. "Y/N, fuck." He groaned, arching his back as your mouth closed over his cock, enveloping it completely. The tip touched the back of your throat and he closed his eyes in an almost filtered moan. But you did not stop, you continued to suck on his length as the young man delivered precise strokes down your throat, fucking your mouth.

After a few minutes he released himself in your mouth in a long, hoarse, sonorous moan. You rose, swallowing, only to wipe your mouth and be catapulted against his powerful, unclothed body. It was wonderful. "I can't resist now, I have to fuck you properly, Y/N."

He didn't wait a moment to take control and get you under him. Marking your thighs as he brought your legs up over his shoulders and began to stimulate you with two fingers that worked their way between your walls. He began to move them quickly inside you, reaching your sensitive spot and beginning to move inside you as if he were an expert. "Minho...f...uck...faster pl...ease. Fuc...k me..., I can't wait a...ny longer!" you moaned. "Relax baby, we have the whole night to ourselves." He said, echoing your words from earlier. When he felt you were wet enough, he added two more fingers, moving at an animal speed, also dictated by your high pitched moans that seemed to make your words die in your throat.

He couldn't wait any longer and with a quick movement he pinned your face to the pillow, lifted your ass towards him and left a long lapping tongue in the middle of your buttocks, reaching your hole and began to slowly stimulate it. But he was also tired of waiting, he had done enough. It was time to fuck you and he would. "Every of your wishes are an order, my queen," he moaned as he entered you in one smooth stroke. You arched your back and he pinned your hands in a vise and held them. With his other hand he squeezed your ass and spread himself inside you, moving slowly at first so that you could get used to his considerable length. "God, you are so hot and tight around my cock. I could cum just standing here. You are beautiful," he whispered into your ear. Shivers ran through your body as you nodded, giving him the green light to move. The strokes were slow and deep at first, his hands clutching your body as your moans mingled in the air. But you wanted more, not just light strokes. "Faster please, go faster...faster!" And how could Minho not meet your demands?

He began to move inside you at an almost animal speed, touching places you didn't even know he could reach. He felt he could come at any moment and he would not be happy if you did with him. One hand reached your clit, his fingers moving quickly, making you almost scream and cry out in pleasure as his strokes were strong and firm inside you. You tightened your walls around his cock as if you wanted to suck him in. "Come with me, princess, come with me," he whispered to you before you poured over his fingers. He brought them to your mouth and made you suck on them as you tightened around him. In no time he was inside you in hot streams, filling you. "Fuck Minho!" you moaned as you felt a pleasant warm sensation spreading from behind you, inside you. "Baby you're amazing, so tight for me," he moaned as he rode out his orgasm and then lay down beside you.

He began to stroke your hair, looking at you with a gentle gaze. It was beautiful and you had never felt so good. You intertwined your legs, your bodies still entwined as you exchanged soft caresses. He left another kiss on your lips and you hugged him, burying your head in the nape of his neck. "You are beautiful, my leading star." He whispered in your ear as he stroked your bare back. "I love you, Prince." You replied with a smile. He looked at you in return and kissed your forehead. "I love you, my Queen."

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the-iceni-bitch · 3 months

Text

𝕹𝖔𝖇𝖔𝖉𝖞 𝕶𝖓𝖔𝖈𝖐 𝕸𝖞 𝕭𝖔𝖉𝖞 𝕺𝖚𝖙

𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚘𝚗 𝙻𝚘𝚔𝚒 𝙻𝚊𝚞𝚏𝚎𝚢𝚜𝚘𝚗

𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍. 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚟𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚐𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜. 𝚂𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗.

𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚘𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊 ~ 𝙰 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚊𝚕 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚐𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚑.

Relationship: Loki Laufeyson x top!male reader

Words: ~1.5k

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (m/m sex, unprotected anal sex), top male reader, bottom Loki, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!

A/N: I am in love with bottom Loki, oh my fucking gaaaaaawd 😮‍💨

You were finishing your daily public audience when you heard the rush of wind through massive wings outside the castle window, letting yourself smile behind your goblet of wine when the dragon’s roar shook the stone walls and made the recalcitrant lord who was standing in front of you go pale.

“I trust you will have the levies brought to the capital post haste, Lord Jurgen,” your smile widened when he nodded at you, your posture relaxing slightly before you dismissed him. “Who else has a matter they wish for me to address?”

The rest of the day’s audience went through without incident, though it was a bit boring. It’s not as though any of your vassals would truly be able to bring conflict to you when one of the most powerful beings in the world was bound to you. As soon as your courtiers had dispersed you made your way to the passages below the mountain, taking a torch for yourself from a brace at the top of the stairs before beginning your journey to the bowels of the castle where your love made his lair.

You could hear him humming with happiness as you traveled lower and lower, the sound bringing a smile to your face. When you finally laid eyes on him he was still in his greater form, his green and golden scales glittering under the light as he slithered through the pile of riches he had acquired for himself and for your kingdom. He was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. Every time you looked at him your breath caught in your throat and you wanted to give him everything he desired. And the knowledge that he reciprocated your feelings only made your devotion to him that much more intense.

Loki must have heard you approach, one of his bright green eyes opening and a smile splitting his face as he rolled to face you. His body began to shift and change as you gazed at each other, growing smaller and leaner as his skin smoothed over. As beautiful as he was in his greater form, he was just as beautiful in his human form, with thick black hair that fell in waves to his shoulders and perfect ivory skin that was offset by his startlingly green eyes. When he had to accompany you to court as your consort he appeared fully human, but alone with you he kept some of his reptilian traits. His horns still rose from his forehead and the ridges of his spine were more pronounced. His teeth were just a bit too sharp and scales were still present at his temples and shoulders and the jut of his hips. He preened as you enjoyed the sight of him, stretching his naked body on his mountain of gold and sighing as you strode towards him.

“The north gave its taxes up without issues then, my love?” You began to disrobe, continuing to smile warmly at him.

“They always do, my king,” Loki rose to his knees when you were standing in front of him, moaning into your mouth when you leaned down to kiss him as your fingers ran through his hair. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, love,” as soon as your tunic was gone you stretched your body over his, keeping your lips molded to his while he wrapped his legs around your waist. “It’s so cold without you.”

Loki gasped when you dragged your tongue along the column of his throat, rolling his hips up to meet yours and reaching between the two of you to begin undoing the laces of your breeches. His forked tongue slipped into your mouth and your grinned against his lips, cooing softly when he whimpered as your fingers wrapped around his cock.

“Should I just make you come like this, precious?” You leaned down to bite his ear when he tilted his head back and moaned as you began to stroke him slowly. “You’re so sensitive, I’m sure it would hardly take any time at all.”

“No, no please,” he gasped when you squeezed him right below his swollen tip, his back arching as he gave himself over to you. “I need you inside me, don’t tease.”

“Never,” you took a small vial of oil from your pocket and poured it all over your cock before lining yourself up with his quivering hole. “I’ll always give you what you need, my precious one.”

Loki groaned and his eyes fluttered as you pushed inside him, his claws dragging down your back until you were fully sheathed inside him. He was so warm inside it felt impossible, his muscles flexing and releasing around your length as he adjusted to your intrusion and panted into your ear. You kissed the hinge of his jaw when he started purring and rolling his body against yours, your own hands holding his narrow hips and digging into the soft flesh of his ass while you moved slowly within him.

Every noise he made was full of wanton delight, soft and lilting while his body writhed sensuously underneath you. His heels locked together at the small of your back when you drove even deeper, his head turning so he could nuzzle at your cheek and trace the shape of your ear with his tongue while you fucked him in long, smooth strokes. When you slid a hand up his body so you could tenderly hold his face he smiled at you, chasing after your lips when you leaned back with a desperate whine that made your chest feel warm. He got even warmer as your cock thrust against his prostate, his chest almost glowing as the low purrs of his pleasure vibrated through his entire body. The look in his eyes was full of intensity and passion as he gazed at you, a flush creeping over his pale cheeks as his long fingers trailed along the curve of your spine.

“Don’t stop,” Loki leaned up to capture your lips with his when his cock started to throb and leak where it was pressed between your stomachs. “Please don’t stop, my king. I want everything.”

“I know,” you rested your forehead against his and nudged his nose with yours, grinding your hips into him and groaning when you felt him clench around you. “My precious boy is so greedy. How I love to spoil you, though.”

“Oh yes,” his eyes fluttered closed when you began to thrust faster. “Yes, spoil me, please. I’m so greedy.”

“The greediest,” you began peppering kisses all over his face and pressed the hand that wasn’t cupping his cheek against the small of his back so his body was molded to yours. “Which is why I let you bathe in as much gold as you could ever desire. And why I fuck you every time you bat your beautiful eyes at me. And why I worship your precious cock. Because you deserve it, my love.”

Loki choked on his tongue and mewled when every muscle in his body drew tight, shuddering when he released and his hot, sticky cum shit all over your stomach as his cock twitched and throbbed. You cooed into his mouth while he tossed his head through his climax, gripping his hair and kissing him passionately as your hips started to thrust into him at an almost vicious pace. His hands scrabbled over your back as he struggled to catch his breath, every exhale leaving him in a soft whine that made you want to ruin him even more.

“Tell me you want it, precious,” you nipped at his bottom lip and growled when he clenched around you again. “Beg me for it.”

“Fill me, my king,” Loki gasped into your mouth and wriggled when you nuzzled his nose with your own. “Give me your seed. I want to be overflowing with it. I need it.”

You groaned as your balls pulled tight and your stomach clenched, crashing your lips against his while your climax overtook you and made your entire body shudder with your release. Loki whined when he felt your warm cum being pumped deep inside him, his inner muscles milking your cock as he let you fuck his mouth with your tongue. Even once you had ridden it out you stayed sheathed deep inside him, sagging against him and rolling so the two of you were laying face to face on his hoard as you caught your breath.

“Are you satisfied, my love?” You chuckled when he bit his lip and shook his head, letting him tuck his face into the crook of your shoulder while you wrapped your body around his. “Not to worry, precious. I’ve plenty more ways to spoil you.”

#natalie writes #monstrous mayhem #kinktober 2023 #dragon!loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson #loki #loki x male reader #loki laufeyson x male reader #marvel x male reader #male!reader #top male reader #monster fucking #eighteen plus

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actual-changeling · 4 months

Text

I have written many meta posts and s3-theories, and read even more, but I got hit by an idea I have not seen before. (If there is another post, please link it!)

After vibrating for an hour and losing my mind in my dms, I have no scraped together enough brain cells to present what is probably my first actual 'main-plot meta'.

Welcome to another edition of Alex's unhinged meta corner, today with a title to honour Crowley's James Bond obsession and the possibility of another heaven heist.

I give you:

From Jesus with Love - You Will Live Twice

Now, let's get right into it.

I think Neil might have told us more about the main s3 plotline in the announcement article than we previously thought. We all got stuck on 'they're not talking'—for good reason—but it is the part before that which has been bugging me ever since then.

The plans are going wrong—and this time that is a problem for earth and humanity. Turning that around, it means that whatever that plan consists of would be the way to go and beneficial for everyone, the opposite of the main plot of s1.

"They need to prevent the Second Coming (SC)" is pretty much the only and most popular idea I have seen, hundreds of fics and metas and whatnot have been written about it, but I think there's a good chance we're wrong. If we're not, well, I will honestly just be happy to be watching season 3.

Whatever the Metatron is planning will have negative consequences for everyone, or as Michael puts it: "And so… it ends. Everything ends. Time and the world is over, and we begin Eternity… forever and ever."

It sounds very much like Apocalypse #1 - Same Old Plan, same expected result, yet if we look at different interpretations of scripture we find that the SC is not entirely about complete destruction and death for all of humanity—it is about creating a new world/migrating to the kingdom of God.

This is taken from the Wikipedia article about the SC

Resurrection and life in a world to come are a direct contradiction to the result Michael is explaining—total annihilation of humanity.

Now, I am neither religious in any way nor have I ever received any sort of biblical education. Luckily, Christians seem to love talking about the bible because there are dozens of bible website to wade through. If I get anything wrong, please point it out, I have never touched a bible in my life.

So, after reading many, many quotes by a bunch of different guys, I tried to create a somewhat coherent picture of what the SC might look like based on the assumption that the end result is positive. I will talk about how they can be interpreted more in-depth later, otherwise this would turn into a string-net very fast.

Additionally, we can also see where these points overlap with the statement Jimbriel gave in the bookshop in episode three.

What is Jesus' job description?

only God knows when and how exactly it will begin/happen, no one else does, including Jesus and the Metatron

a lot of different catastrophes are mentioned or quoted as something Jesus said, like earthquakes and storms -> Jimbriel mentioned a tempest and great storms

there is also the line "All these are the beginning of birth pains." Birth pains dictate that there will be a birth—birth of the world to come perhaps?

dead people will be resurrected/leave their graves so that they too can be judged (I'd say participate in it but that sounds like the Second Coming is a summer camp activity)

there are also mentions of stars and the heavens in general falling from the sky and the sun going dark -> Jimbriel also mentions darkness as one of the signs

great lamentations, as Jimbriel says, are also a part of many different passages, with humans mourning the world as it was

the Lord will descent with the voice of an Archangel and the sound of a trumpet/the trumpet of God; the grammatical structure of that sentence seems to be interpreted differently depending on who you ask, but the voices of angels/an Archangel and some sort of trumpet are common terms

once everyone is in heaven/wherever the 'main even' will take place, a judgement call will be made for every single person in relation to the book of life, which decides whether they will be punished forever or not (one passage talks about a lake of fire and mentions it several times in a row)

And this is where it gets tricky. To figure out what the SC looks like, we first need to understand a) what the Metatron's capabilities are, b) what he has to lose, and c) what exactly would be a threat to him.

If you ask me, all of this comes down to the Metatron wanting to stay and be in power for eternity with full control over angels so he can do as he please, aka keeping the system running as it is.

We know the book of life (bol) is a thing in the Good Omens universe, whether it does what Michael said is an entirely different question. So far, we have also only got confirmation that hell collects and tortures souls—in such large amounts that they are understaffed—while heaven looks completely empty.

The Metatron runs heaven as an institution, he seems to be the highest power any of the angels have access to and the one they defer to. He refers to himself as the voice of God and combines judge, jury and executioner, making him one great celestial dictator.

From what we know of hell, they do things a lot more democratically, having different councils, dukes, and ranks that are responsible for different levels of command.

We also know that that the Metatron wants the world to end, his goals can probably be summarized as the statement Michael makes, which would leave him in charge without any opposing forces.

We also also know that he sees Crowley and Aziraphale as a threat—why exactly remains a mystery for now—and that the success of his plan hinges on having a Supreme Archangel (SA) he can control. Gabriel decided to become princess of hell and Beez' sugar baby, so he was out of the equation, and after the Armageddon disaster, I don't think he wants to risk failing because of an unfamiliarity with earth (plus, y'know, getting our two idiots away from the plan).

It's interesting to me that right at the end, he says to Aziraphale "We call it the Second Coming"—call, not it is or it will be, CALL. We know that nothing Neil writes is a coincidence, definitely not with such an important line.

Just because you CALL something a specific name doesn't mean it IS what you call it, e.g. Aziraphale calls Crowley a foul fiend when we know he very much isn't.

The Metatron is selling his plan as part of the "Great/Ineffable Plan", so any questions can be blocked by saying it's God's will, it's ineffable. Whatever his plan is, he hides it behind the concept of the Second Coming, which angels know just enough about to understand the basics without having in-depth knowledge of what exactly it entails.

It is a good fucking strategy, I'll give him that, and it WORKS because angels—even if they have doubts—do not question. They simply don't; fear of punishment and millennia of conditioning have left them in a horrible place. When they encounter something unknown, their response is "I already knew that" as to not ask questions.

Crowley questions, we know that, and Aziraphale, ohhhhh, Aziraphale ALSO questions, but he does it in a less dangerous and obvious way. The Metatron is vastly underprepared for that.

(Side note: That alone would be its own meta post, but the gist is that he questions heaven's plans and then adjusts his assumptions of what God might want to what he WANTS God to want, e.g. Job, the Arch)

To summarize everything I just said, the Metatron wants to do what Armageddon failed to do—destroy earth and the universe—so he can be supreme dictator of all remaining celestial beings and gorge himself on power.

But instead of calling it his Big Evil Plan, he calls it the Second Coming, making everyone play along without resistance.

We cycle aaaaall the way back to the sentence I quoted—the ACTUAL plans are going wrong since the Metatron's would mean total destruction.

But what is the SC supposed to be if not the Apocalypse 2.0?

When I look at all the different aspects of the SC and assume a positive outcome, then the end result to me would be a new world that is pretty much like the old world, or maybe even literally the old world but with any destruction reversed. Heaven and hell get dissolved since now that everyone has been "judged", they as institutions are no longer needed, they have fulfilled their purpose.

No more judgement means there is no reason to keep track anymore, so why do you need to run celestial corporations whose only job is doing exactly that? You don't—and THAT is what I believe is the biggest perceived threat to the Metatron, losing full control over everyone and everything, losing his position, his title, and whatever else he has.

On top of that, Good Omens has told us again and again that God doesn't seem to give a fuck about good and evil anymore, and that without heaven and hell being all wrapped up in it, humanity would have 100% free will without any consequences.

Maybe the BoL is empty, maybe it isn't real, maybe Jesus stole it to straighten a wobbly table, who knows. There is a chance it is what Michael says, but I would admittedly find that a bit. too obvious and boring since it would boil the plot down to "they save their own asses again" and not "they save humanity at all cost".

Regarding Crowley and Aziraphale's role in this—I have Thoughts TM but those definitely need their own post. In short, they have to get the SC back on track, the real one.

If you have made it this far, thank you for working through what I hope are more or less coherent rambles. Any spelling or grammar mistakes are my own.

Questions? Thoughts? Corrections? Expansions and additions?

Feel free to add to this post however you like (and I can't believe I have to mentions this but if you clown on my post or behave like an asshole you will be blocked).

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ghouljams · 7 months

Note

ALL OF YOUR MEDIEVAL GHOST POSTS ARE SO POETIC AND SO FULL OF LONGING GRGRGR GOING FERAL I LOVE YOUR WRITIBG

I wish I could say it's on purpose but I think a lot of the knight!Ghost stuff has been me riffing, especially the recent "my knight/my lady" stuff.

Here's more riffing, and what I'm going to put as the official start of Act 2, even though we already have like 3 Act 2 posts. Ghost gets taken off the Princess's service. (My lady the way a martyr begs for forgiveness)

"I don't understand."

"What is there to understand?" The King asks, leaning against his desk. His own guards stand at the corners of the office, waiting for a reason to drag Ghost out.

"Have I not performed my duties to the best of my abilities?" Ghost asks, it's a rhetorical question, they both know he has. The King grits his teeth.

"You have gone above and beyond."

"Then, you think I'm not skilled enough to continue in this position." Ghost's fingers tighten on the helm under his arm. To say he respects this man is an overestimation of his fondness.

"You're more than qualified." The glare from the King might cause a lesser man to waver. Ghost is well aware that cornered dogs always bare their teeth.

"If I'm performing my duty well, and I'm over qualified to continue performing it, then the princess must have complained," Ghost reasons out. The King's fingers tighten their grip on each other, unwilling to bang his fist against the table in the face of such insubordination.

"Her praises of you grow by the hour." His attempts at keeping an even tone are admirable, Ghost will give him that. Ghost hums, as if he needs to think about any of this.

"Then I see no reason to remove me as her personal guard," He raises a brow, "besides, I thought my lady was in charge of dismissing her staff." The King's eye twitches.

"I'm offering you a promotion, not a dismissal."

"And I'm rejecting it, good day," Ghost offers a short bow and turns to the door. The knights on either side of it settle their hands on their swords hilts.

"Allow me to rephrase," there's the scrape of a chair, the king standing, "you will leave the princess's retinue and take the position as captain of the guard or I will arrest you for treason and throw you in the dungeon."

Ghost's eyes dart between the guards in the room, all as well trained as he is. Still, if he's going to be arrested for treason anyway he may as well go all in. What's a dog without its master, what is he if he isn't yours? How upset would you be if he was locked away, if he was executed? If he could reach the king before the guards reached him...

Hell, men have taken kingdoms over less. So he has to kill a few measly heirs, and the power vacuum would be a nightmare, but you have as much right to the throne as anyone. He could do it for you. He could fix this.

But it would destroy you. Your reputation, already starting to tarnish, would be gone. You'd be a queen to turmoil and strife. You don't deserve that. You deserve a good life, a happy, easy, life. Even if that life doesn't include him.

He'll still be able to see you occasionally. Ghost can live a lifetime on those rare occasions. His fingers ache from how tightly they'd been clenched as he uncurls his fists. The eyes of the guards in the room are wary, scared. Ghost wonders when the last time he'd seen his own men like that was. When was the last time he'd felt this rabid, liable to strike at any sudden movement.

"I understand," he grits out.

"My wife may be soft on you, but someone has to think about what's best for the kingdom," The King tells him, "for the monarchy."

Never for you, Ghost thinks, it's never about what's best for you. If it were anyone else but the King he might draw his sword right there. Fuck. He'd spit on the monarchy if you weren't a part of it. What do they know about what's best for you? They won't even acknowledge your tears.

#ghoul speaks #writing for knight ghost reminds me of when i used to roleplay with my ex lol #just the level of poetry to it #cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #knight!Ghost #medieval au

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viaoverthemoon · 9 months

Text

Behind Closed Doors

Thank y'all for all the votes!

Let me know if you all would like more, in which I can possibly post it in parts on here!

Leon Kennedy x Fem!Reader (Medieval Universe)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Summary: Your family's kingdom is under attack and Leon's family offers protection. Everyone thinks this is your first time seeing Leon ever since your betrothal. If only they knew...

Tw: MEDIEVAL TIMELINE AND SPEECH, some characters not from the RE-verse/they will be in later parts if y'all want it, mention of battle and injury (not detailed), fluff, SMUT, but it's kinda soft, p in v sex, unprotected sex, virginity loss, minor description of pain, fingering, orgasm denial(?), sorry the smut is long as hell, BUT ITS WORTH IT PROMISE, Sudden ending

18+!! NSFW!! MDNI!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!!

Enjoy! <3

☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.

The nature of the Kingdom of Duevaula is certainly not what you were expecting it to be.

People spoke of the lands as though it were surrounded by fires, commoners walking around subdued by chains are constantly guarded by cruel soldiers.

Instead, healthy trees grow far and wide around the kingdom, children running in the streets laughing as older kids chase them with no malice. Soldiers patrol the area, but most of them look carefree, conversating with locals and playing with the children.

"Sister? Are you alright?"

The voice of your sister pulls you from your thoughts, eyes drifting to the 12-year-old at your side as she places a hand on yours. "Yes, Nara Vella. I'm fine."

Of course, she sees right through you. "Are you certain? I know the events that took place at home may have been-"

"Nara... That is enough. Thank you for asking, but I am fine."

Nara Vella scrunches her nose, about to say more but the carriage comes to a stop and a trumpet blares.

"We're here."

You listen as The Herald announces your parents, the king and queen of The Kingdom of Islandia, but your heart can't stop pounding.

You and your sister rise just before your carriage door opens. Since you are the first born, your name is announced first.

"Announcing the firstborn Princess of The Kingdom of Islandia, (Y/N) (L/N)."

You stop out of the carriage accepting the footman's outstretched hand. All eyes are on you as your navy-blue skirts brush against the concrete, but your eyes are on one person alone.

Your sister is announced behind you, and you step forward to the man infront of you.

You drop into a curtsy. "Your highness."

He bows deeply. "My lady."

Your eyes meet his, the light of a secret hidden in your gazes. He offers an arm, and you accept it, walking with him behind both of your parents.

Prince Leon.

You were betrothed to him at the age of 6, back when your kingdoms were butting heads, resulting in a feud, and needed a way to end the hostility between them. 13 years later, everyone thinks this is the first time you've seen each other since. But it isn't.

Leon had first sent you a private letter when you were 13 years old, requesting your presence at a hidden lake that rested in the middle of your parents' territories. Your heart had raced, excited for a new adventure in life, and you immediately rushed to meet him there.

You've been seeing each other there for years, playing in the waters, having picnics in the soft grass, feeding each other strawberries and chocolates, and reading in silence. Just enjoying each other's presence.

You shared tiny kisses at the lake a few times, but never went any farther in fear of what could happen if anyone found out you'd lost your purity.

You smile at him and lower your voice. "It's been too long since I last saw you, your highness."

He hums, placing his hand on top of yours. You both know it's only been 2 weeks, but who's counting? "Yes, my lady. Far too long. I was beginning to forget the feeling of your soft lips against mine..." He lowered his head, brushing his lips against your ear. "Perhaps, when we are alone, you could remind me?"

☆

Hours later, you and your family sit in the dining room with the Kennedys. All parents, along with Leon, had been locked away in the war room for hours, discussing ways to save the Kingdom of Islandia after it was attacked by another kingdom that sought revenge against your father, the king.

You'd all barely escaped with your lives, most being unscathed, but you, your mother, and your personal guard Jill, hadn't recovered from a couple injuries. Your sister brings up this fact during dinner.

"If it wasn't for (Y/N), I would've been walking around with one leg instead of two!" She dramatically waves her hands around as you try to shush her, your cheeks turning red with embarrassment.

"Nara Vella! Mind yourself! We do not speak of those events at the dinner table!"

She merely giggles, whispering an apology before returning to her plate. You sigh, about to turn back to your own food, but you feel a pair of eyes on you.

You glance at Leon from across the table through your peripheral, noticing his frown.

'Are you alright?' He mouths. You smile reassuringly and nod, raising a brow and offering a teasing smile.

'Worried about me, your highness?'

He only rolls his eyes, seemingly looking at his plate but peeking up at you through his lashes. 'Always, my lady.'

☆

You sit in your chambers after dinner, trying to sew a tear in the dress you'd worn on that fateful night.

It had been washed and dried, but it suffered damage from sword and arrow grazes. And you couldn't just let it be ruined. It's one of your favorites, a gift from your mother when you finally came of age.

It held far too many memories.

A soft knock comes from your door and, suspecting it was your sister, you call to it. "Enter."

You become frustrated with the sew, accidentally pricking your finger with the needle. You curse, yanking your hand away and to your mouth.

Admittingly, the stitch is not the only thing that has you frustrated.

After the feast, you'd tried to get Leon's attention so the two of you could find a moment alone. But he was instantly pulled away by his father, who began to speak of kingly duties and war experience.

You knew that talk would take a while.

"Nara Vella, I am truly not in the mood right now. This damn stitch is going to be the death of-"

"Is this how you speak when I am not around?"

You yelp, spinning around and dropping your materials.

Leon, your betrothed, leans against your chamber doors.

He smirks at you, approaching you at a slow pace.

"How did you- I thought your father would have you occupied for a while..." You stand, wringing your hands and shifting nervously, trying not to pay any mind to his predatory gaze. He offers a teasing smirk.

"I have my ways," He steps into your space, his chest nearly touching yours, and lifts a hand. You immediately relax, nuzzling your cheek into the palm of his hand.

He hums and you sigh, relishing in the presence of one another. "You're certain? That you are not hurt?"

You sigh, placing your hand on top of his. "Yes, Leon. I really am fine."

You feel him let out an exhale, his shoulders dropping in relief. "Good. Because if anyone left lasting damage on you, I'd take the throne right now and declare-"

You smack his chest, glaring up at him. "Leon! You will not declare war on a kingdom any time soon!"

He only throws his head back and laughs, caressing your cheek with his thumb. "Alright! Relax, my lady. I only jest..." You huff a breath through your nose, staring at his deep blue eyes and wide smile.

These were the moments you truly missed.

While the both of you tried to keep visitations strictly scheduled for once a month, it was pure torture to be away from him that long.

You inhale his air, a deep, husky scent of forest mixed with wildfire.

"I have prayed and waited every night to be in your arms again. I had never known this would be the reason why..." Your other hand grasps his shirt, holding onto him so tightly one would think he might disappear.

"Dreadful circumstance or not, I finally get to see your face again..." Leon raises your chin, your eyes shifting between his eyes and his lips. "And you, finally get to remind me of your taste..."

You could swear sparks fly when your lips meet.

Hot, searing passion colliding to create a love that is hidden behind closed doors. His fingers comb through your hair, your fingernails scratch against his loose sleeve shirt.

His tongue brushes against your lips and your heart leaps, your lips instinctively opening. A gasp comes from those parted lips. Your back arches and Leon chases you, hand lowering to grip the silk material of your robes.

He parts from you all too soon, dipping his head and placing wet kisses along your neck. A moan escapes your lips and the both of you freeze, a pause filled with red hot tension.

Your nails dig into his shoulder, breaths coming out in short, quick gaps. "Perhaps-... Perhaps we should stop..."

"We should..."

And yet, no one moves.

You swallow, throat feeling tight. "If my mother-... If our families ever found out about this-"

His head leaves the crook of your neck, eyes gazing down at you with powerful determination. "They won't."

Your breathing shakes. "But- When that time comes-"

His hands grab your cheeks, forcing you to look up at him. "They. Won't." His thumb strokes your bottom lip, blue eyes burning. "Do you trust me?"

Your answer is immediate. "Of course."

His lips twitch. "Good. Then know, that they will never know. And we will never be separated."

His confidence brings forth your own.

You know this decision is a big one. A lady handing a man her virtue is something that with bind her to him forever.

And while you hate the hold that purity has on the ways of society... You know Leon is the only man you would ever give yourself to.

Your eyes widen, a desperate gleam shining in them. "Take me, Leon."

☆

Your naked body shines in the moonlight, every curve and crevice on display for him, and him alone.

Leon stands at the foot of your bed, staring down at you with hazy, lust filled eyes.

You'd both stripped each other of their clothes in record time, a cluster of rushing hands and pitiful whines. You try not to stare at his... rather intimidating manhood, that stands tall and hard as rock. Albeit, he stares at you without shame.

His eyes rake over every inch over your body, starting at your ankles. Then moving to your legs, then your hips, your stomach, breasts, lips and finally your eyes. His bright blue oceans of eyes had turned into a deep dark sea, leaving you panting and burning.

You open your arms, reaching for him. "Well? Do not stand there and stare..." You somehow keep your voice steady, the whimper in your throat begging to be released.

He smirks, jerking himself a few times, before placing his hands on the bed and crawling toward you.

You hesitate, and then spread your legs. He settles between them, hot palms landing on your thighs and causing the skin to be set ablaze.

Your heart pounds in your ears, breathing turning heavy and legs shaking.

You're afraid. Excited! But afraid.

Many of the older ladies had said that their firsts were blissful, yet excruciatingly painful. But others said it was not as bad as it seems.

This left you with uncertainty, gooseflesh rising on your arms as you try your best to keep your emotions at bay.

But of course, Leon reads you like an open book.

He caresses the soft skin of your thighs, thumbs moving in small, calming circles. "You have nothing to fear, (Y/N)." He leans down, running his nose over your cheek. "Of course, I would never do anything to hurt you. It is never too late to stop-"

He barely gets the words out before your hands harshly grip his biceps. "No! I mean- um... I want this, Leon. More than anything." Your grip relaxes and you offer a reassuring smile.

He smiles back at you.

The heavy atmosphere returns when he leans down again, lips skimming your throat as his length nudges your sensitive ball of nerves.

You nearly jump out of your skin; a sharp gasp leaves you.

Leon feels your nervousness, and, luckily, knows just the cure.

A hand creeps down your body, getting lower... lower...

Until rough, calloused fingers slip between your folds.

A loud moan is quickly cut off by his lips.

Hopefully your guards aren't paying too close attention to your chambers...

Your knees bend, eyes clenching shut as Leon swallows all of your noises. His fingers work slow circles of pleasure into your clit, the sensation one you've never felt before.

Much like getting too close to a hot fire in the blazing cold of a harsh winter, it warms your insides and leaves your outside wanting more.

You throw your head back, the back of your fist flying to your mouth as you try to hold back the sounds your throat nearly let's burst out.

"Hah... Leon-..."

His name rolls from your tongue as a soft whisper, words stuttering off into a sharp inhale as his fingers graze over your soaking hole.

Your other hand grips the soft sheets, body giving in as he completely takes control. Your eyes lock with his.

He's deep in concentration, breathing shallow and sweat matting his blonde hair to his forehead.

Gaze lowering, you see the angry red color of his girth. It throbs, begging for attention while trying its hardest to sit still and look pretty.

"Nuh-uh. Eyes up here, princess." Your glossy eyes snap back to his, mouth slightly agape and brows pulled together. Leon smirks, pleased with your expression. "You can make that up to me later. But this moment, is for you."

His other hand gently removes your hand from your lips, soft sighs coated in ecstasy falling from them immediately.

The pressure builds as you roll your hips to meet his fingers. He slowly slides a finger into you, watching your expression as it shifts. He keeps another finger working on your nerves, so the one inside only adds to the pleasure.

You cry out when he adds a second one, now feeling a slight sense of discomfort, but still pleasure. He nuzzles his nose into your neck, mumbling praises. You're surprised by the sound of his voice, slurring slightly as if he'd indulged in a tin of ale.

"Good job, princess... Doing such a good- hngh~... Does that- feel good, my lady?"

Your body seems to like the sound of Leon, if the new wave of slick was anything to go by.

You feel the knot in your lower stomach tighten, your moans raising in volume as your back arches. You feel something coming. Not sure what it is, but your legs begin to shake. You wait in anticipation, every thought focused on the new stage of euphoria this feeling was going to bring... until Leon completely pulled away his hand.

You gasp, eyes snapping open. Your body falls limp as you catch your breath. "Wha-... Why-"

"I hope you do not mind if I become a little selfish, my lady..."

Your eyes snap to him, sitting up on your elbows and ready to reprimand him for denying you of your bliss, but your words are blown away.

Leon sits up on his knees, manhood curved upward in his hand as he strokes the length. Wet, sticky liquid leaks from the red tip, veins protruding from every angle.

Your air is taken away, leaving only enough to let out a sharp exhale.

"But... I want you coming undone only on my cock."

You eye him, switching between his eyes and his... cock, before nodding slowly. "Okay... Okay, Leon."

He leans down again, pressing wet kisses on your neck and cheeks, as his length glides between your folds. "I will not move until you're ready..." And then, he begins pushing himself inside.

Your nails dig into his shoulders with a gasp. His hand grips the pillows as he grunts. Both of you release soft noises of pain, holding onto each other as he continues to slowly enter you.

You hold back a scream when he finally bottoms out, doing your best to relax as to not hurt him anymore. You feel his soft kisses on your face as he apologizes continuously, hand roaming the skin of your waist as the other rubs circles into your clit again.

After what feels like forever, the pain slowly subsides and makes room for pleasure. Your grip on his shoulders loosens. You instead put them around his neck, digging your hands into his hair. "I'm ready, Leon... You can move-"

His hips snap against yours without warning.

You cry out, clinging to him as he begins to thrust into you at an animalistic rate. He grunts with every thrust, caging your body in as he loses himself.

"I have waited so long-. Please, please forgive me, sweet angel-"

Heavy panting and the smell of sex fills the air, the sound of skin meeting skin resounding within the room. Your moans and pleas do nothing to teeter the wild and rough movements of Leon's hips. He growls into your neck, holding your hips to keep you from getting away.

The knot is seconds away from snapping, but it feels stronger than it was before. Different even... Almost like you need to run to the pot. You feel overwhelmed, pushing at Leon's shoulders. "I can- I can't! It's too much- Ah! Leon-!"

The band snaps.

You scream, toes curling and back arching.

Your body pushes out a wave of liquid, most likely soiling your sheets. The feeling burns you inside and out, tensing all of your muscles and leaving you weak and trembling. You pant heavily, body still jerking from Leon roughly thrusting into you.

The after-bliss you'd once felt begins to feel uncomfortable. Overstimulated, you claw at his biceps in hopes of getting his attention.

He groans when he hears you whine. "Almost- Almost there-"

His thrusts get sloppy, his cock hitting somewhere so deep that it somehow prolongs the burn. You bite his collarbone to keep from screaming again.

It would seem that was his final push, as he pushes deep inside of you, releasing a low, husky groan and throwing his head back.

You watch as his entire body shudders, his grip on your hips tightening so much you're sure you'll have bruises in the morning.

A warm rush of liquid flows into you, seeming to be a never-ending flow as Leon falls limp, landing right beside you.

You'll definitely have to bribe your guards in the morning.

☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.

Whoops!

Sorry for ending it like that! If you guys want this to have more, let me know! I'll pick it up from here!

Let me know what you think!

Hope you enjoyed! <3

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

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