#this is from the Guest Battle Royale

[gremlingottoosilly]

That Unwanted Animal [COD Fantasy AU] CursedKnight!Ghost x fem!Reader

Ghost was cursed ever since his king helped him get back to life from his grave. A stench of death, strong and inescapable, renders him unable to find a woman who will be willing to bed him. What will happen when he finally finds a perfect mate? CW and Tags: Dub-con, power imbalance, Medieval Fantasy AU, knight!Ghost, servant!Reader, sex work, brothels, dub-con kissing and touching, obsessive Ghost, dark Ghost, basically Ghost finds a girl and forces her to be his, Ghost is a half-dead resurrected knight, soft reader, submissive Reader.

AO3 Word Count: 2209

“I won’t go to him, he smells!”

“Drop the act, princess, not even half of our guests reek of anything more than their drinks and foul meat.” 

“You know how he smells, Katherine. You know what he is.” “What he is, is a client. Rich one. Do you wish to moan under the belly of another failing merchant? Or a peasant’s dick is more to your liking?” “I bring this place more than half of its earnings! I won’t bed a man who has barely got out of his grave and should be put back!” Ghost sighs, his head pressed against the wooden wall. For a brothel, this place has remarkably thin walls. For a brothel, girls out here have remarkably potent noses – and acquired tastes for anything that doesn’t taste like a man who was brought back to life with dead souls still clinging onto every inch of his very being. 

For a man of his regals – the blessed knight, the cursed knight, the kiss-your-enemies-goodnight, the spill-your-blood-he might, he has a particular choice in the brothel he tried to entertain himself with. Not like any willing woman would bed him without a sum of gold enough to feed a family for months – and not like he stood low enough to force himself on poor servants of his castle, bringing his dignity and family name down with each handmaiden he tried to grope while on meeting with the king. 

“Do you think he is really dead?” “Dead man wouldn’t need a cunt to drown himself in. He had to have something working.” “Maybe he likes to watch? Or to hurt.” “Maybe, we can’t afford to turn him down, princess. Drop your act before he is willing to burn us down for refusing him.” “Well, I heard he went through every brothel in town. Not a single soul bedded him!” “I heard he doesn’t even like girls. Has his royal knight by his side all day.” “He came alone.” “He will be coming alone for the rest of his life with a smell like this!” “Dark magic. King should have known to not trust the Empire and their lurkings.” “Having a blessed knight is good, no? We’re not at war.” “Cursed knight is good in your army, not your bed. But if you are so willing…”

He hears women – from the madam of this fine place, a woman of fine manners, exquisite figure, and the way of looking at him that almost convinces that she doesn’t want to press her fingers against her nose, blocking the smell of death that follows him ever since he became…that. He hears girls of not-so-fine manners, with fine bodies and perfect pretty faces, gentle hands that don’t know about the trials of war. He remembers the way they looked at him – the way they always looked at him. 

Scary, horrendous, dangerous. A skull mask and dark tendrils of smoke follow his body, the Grim Reaper himself embedded in his dark armor. No matter how many perfumes he uses, no matter how many washes per day he forces himself onto, nothing can hide the stench of death. He thought he’d be fine with it as long as his battle brothers were with him – as long as he was with them. 

Then he got lonely. 

Finding a lay in the brothel would be a scandal for a man of his status – but Simon Riley is no man. Not anymore, at least. 

“I bet he wears a mask because he is hideous.” “Maybe he is just wounded?” “What kind of wound would make him hide his face while not being hideous?” “Maybe, he just doesn’t want to show his face here.” “No use. By the dawn, all women in the capital will know about great lord Riley, refuced at every brothel.” “What if he kills us?” “What if he burns us?” “What if he…” “Let the servant bring him tea. Make her useful.” Before he could react – as if eavesdropping on a bunch of whores was something of a pleasant chore he was dealing with – a door to his room had opened. Girl, in much simpler clothes than the ones that courtesans were wearing. With a tea tray in her shaky hands, grabbing the poor thing like there was no tomorrow. Huh. Perhaps, with a mug like his as her client, there is no tomorrow for a poor girl. 

Ghost sits on the bed, large, muscular legs spread, his dick swaying with attention the longer he is looking at your face. He can’t be picky, not in his state as a not-dead not-man, but he has to admit that you’re pretty. Without all the mannerisms of a prostitute, you look like a poor deer stuck in the predator’s den. Your hands are shaking – but he looks at your face, having no shame in drinking up your expression like a vampire – and he didn’t once saw you wince at the smell. Hm. Must be potent tea you’re serving. 

— I didn’t ask for the tea. 

Rude, as always – he didn’t come here to be ridiculed by poor attempts at pleasing him without a girl under him, getting her pretty legs open for his cock. He didn’t intend to come here and listen to all of the workers laughing at him like he was a monster – yet, he can’t leave now, his wounded ego grows into something ugly. 

— Most of our clients prefer to drink this before the…act. It makes them more potent, as they say. 

His cock didn’t have any warm body to dump his semen in years. He doesn’t need tea to make him hard – he sees the glimpse of your skin under those simple robes of yours, and he can already feel it stir, standing up for attention. 

— You don’t sound too certain. Your client must not drink it then. 

— I…I am not a prostitute, sir. Merely a servant. 

He knows already – your makeup is too plain, your manners are off, your clothes are simple grey wool with not a dash of color. If you were his – as a prostitute, a wife, a lover – he would bring you something much brighter and skimpier. You’d look good in silks, he thinks. 

Not like you’d allow him to bring you home – not willingly, at least. 

— So I figured, love. You’re pretty enough to be one, that’s clear. 

“You’re pretty enough to be a prostitute” is a compliment that only sounds good in the head of a man who hasn’t talked sweetly to a woman in ages. His whole life, perhaps, exchanging the embrace of a lady with tight hugs of the war. 

— You’re flattering me, sir. 

— Bloody hell, woman. Not a flattery if that’s the truth. 

— If you say so. 

You shift under his gaze like a rabbit in front of an apex predator. Ghost doesn’t want to force any woman to sleep with him – but he looks at the sway of your chest, at the softness of your hips, at the way you tug and scratch on the rough fabric of your skirt as you’re too nervous to look at him…

He must contain himself. 

— Why you work as a servant? 

— I…tried to be a prostitute, sir. Most clients here don’t like it when you’re not…

He slowly rocks his body closer to you, his head almost laying on your shoulder. He saw the way you looked at him as he leaned to you – you’re surprised, scared, but not disgusted. your nose didn’t twitch a single time, and he is sure that no tea would ever make you this blind to the stench of death lingering on your shoulder now. 

There must be something wrong with you – and he wants to save you like a rare treasure because of it. 

— Most clients here don’t like what, luv? 

— I…have damage, sir. 

So he figured. Just didn’t exactly know what you have. 

— What is it? 

— A…after a bad cold, my sense of smell…never returned. Not for the last three years. 

— You don’t smell anythin’? Must be bloody hard. 

— It is. But…I manage. As much as I can. 

He slowly drapes his hand over your shoulder – you wince at the touch. He thinks of the madam of your fine establishment. The woman didn’t seem the type to beat her girls, but you had such a shy, scared expression as he started to touch you, he can’t wait to burn this fucking place to the ground. Maybe spare a few of your friends if you’d ask him nicely. You won’t be working here again, ever – that much he can be sure of. 

— Doin’ a good job, love. 

— I hope so, sir. 

He drags his hand on your face, squeezing the soft skin of your cheek. You’re adorable – servants shouldn’t be so pretty, it makes him feel bad, it makes him sinful. He should try to hit on the girls who actually work here – not the poor soul that as sent here to bring him here, as a little lam sacrificed to a vicious god. 

— You don’t smell me, then? 

— I don’t smell anything, my lord. 

He chuckles, but your pained expression only makes him chuckle more. Poor thing, living in a place like this without a sense of smell – he can’t believe how you could survive without the smell of heavy incense and creams that all of the whores were using. He loves it when a pretty girl is making herself even prettier – makeup, all of those little elixirs they are putting on their faces, the flowery smells that make his rotting existence a bit easier. It never worked on him, on his disintegrating skin and stench that followed him everywhere – but then it dawned on him. 

You have such an adorable, shy smile and a small posture, playing with the edges of your clothes like a girl who is extremely embarrassed to be in a room with a man of his position. But women aren’t shy in his presence, not anymore – they are disgusted, horrified, they want to put their noses into little candy boxes and smell roses just to get rid of the smell. 

But you, adorable creature, aren’t disgusted. Hell, how he missed a pretty girl being so shy around him. 

Ghost kisses you before he can think of anything else. Before he could give you space to escape, to come to your senses and understand what kind of man he is. Broken, wounded, pushed to the cage, and locked with a key dangling from the side – god knows, Simon Riley isn’t a good man, never tried to be. Devil knows, he will drag you to the grave with him. 

Your lips are soft, untouched, you smell of cleaning supplies and sweet tea. Your hair smells like roses and dust, your hands are covered in little scabs – probably from the days spent cleaning and doing the hard work. He will make sure you will never have to work again, not with your hands, at least – he will kiss your callouses and nourish the skin into something delicate, fragile, to the smell of home he lost long ago. 

Your mouth tastes like heaven, and Ghost isn’t a man who deserves to push this angel further, isn’t a man who deserves to have a pretty girl moaning under him. He makes you cry, he terrifies you, he kisses you relentlessly and can feel the way your skin burns, tears streaming down your face. If he was a better man, he would oblige to your hands, pushing him away, your mouth is trying to cry for help. 

Simon Riley isn’t a good man, and he pushes you on your back, firms hands on your back, on your hips, touching, groping, feeling the skin of a somewhat willing woman. You’re scared, but you should know the kind of job girls here are doing – he didn’t pay all of this money for charity projects, after all. As much as he would pay even more gold just to take you away, to push your legs apart in a scenery much nicer than a room in a brothel. You deserve a real bed, a nice dress that he can rip away from you, 

All you get is his hands on your body, ripping your simple skirt apart because he can’t wait to get to the soft skin underneath. He looks at you, precious girl, as adorable as you are, and can’t resist kissing you, stealing breath from your skin. When he finally hears you moan, when his hand goes to grab the softness between your legs – moist, prepared, smelling of roses and arousal, of all things sweet and sinful – all of his sense of self-control shatters. 

He will take you on the floor of this room – over and over, claim you as his little maiden, his favorite girl, until he is sure his cursed, rotten seed has filled you to the brim. He will take you away, bringing as much money to your madam as he can manage, buying you all for himself – taking you as his prized possession for the new castle he was ordered to as a lord knight. 

Ghost will make you his, hells and heaven be damned. 

You cry, but he knows you’ll come around. And he can be very, very patient. 

#cod #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #yandere cod #ghost x reader #yandere ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost #dark ghost #dark cod #fantasy #yandere male #male yandere

[stardustizuku]

Unfortunately I came across a very strange and misinformed video about Black Butler.

It’s not good. Don’t watch it. Unless you wanna ruin your day, in which case have fun.

Despite it all, I watched it. What left me wondering, however, was how off the mark the person who made the video was on, well, everything.

From their insistence that the Book of Circus Arc theme or point is non existent, to reading Ciel’s character so badly they genuinely thought the Green Witch Arc did nothing for his character development.

While baffled, it also made me think on how someone could read Black Butler so badly.

Sure, you can say that there’s no real way to read or interpret something “in the wrong way” but interpreting The Hunger Games as a pure battle-royale action story would make you believe it’s bad.

“Why are we focusing so much on how the capitol preps them?” Or “Why isn’t Katniss winning everything?” Or “I wanna know more about the rebellion” All questions that miss the actual point of the story - which is criticizing (not solving or ignoring) the way that media distracts us from violence via spectacle.

The same thing applies here. While there is no “right” way to consume media, there’s things that the author makes clear they wanna focus when creating a story. Things that, if you understand, make the story you’re reading actually make sense.

And in Black Butler there’s three things that you have to understand to properly get what Yana is saying.

Sebastian is the protagonist

Ciel and Sebastian’s relationship IS the story.

And that relationship is, fundamentally, a positive one.

A quicker version of it would be:

Black Butler is a love story from the POV of Sebastian, and you have to ship it to get it

- but that’s not entirely true.

You can still look at it as a complex but ultimately positive rship and get in broad strokes of what it’s conveying. It doesn’t have to be romantic. Although, it helps much more than a platonic framing.

(That said, interpreting their rship as father and son, still isn’t the best way to go about it. Mostly because by its very nature of “soul consuming” their relationship is extremely sexually charged. And hey, if you’re into that I don’t judge. However, if you’re desperately trying to interpret their rship as NOT romantic to the point you fall back on heteronormative patriarchal ideals of nuclear familiar as framing device, I don’t think this interpretation bodes with you)

Now, having all that ground work:

Why do I say these are the key components to understand BB?

Okay so, first,

1. Sebastian is the Main Character. The protagonist.

There’s a lot of people who wanna argue against it, claiming he’s either the villain or the antagonist. Both wrong.

He does not function as an antagonist. Even if, and an emphasis on if, you consider Ciel to the protagonist, Sebastian isn’t a narrative antagonist.

If you wanna go back to Creative Writing 101, be my guest. An antagonist is directly defined by the protagonist. It’s the opposing force. If the protagonist wants A, the antagonist wants to stop them from getting A.

Sebastian’s catchphrase is “Yes, my Lord”. He never opposes Ciel, in fact quite the contrary. By the mere fact they’ve created contract, it means that they’ve both agreed in the inevitable outcome.

People want to frame Sebastian as the villain, because Ciel having his soul taken by a demon, would be a BAD END in the context of their moral compass. They see Ciel as a frail victim of abuse, who’s being tricked by Sebastian, who wants Ciel’s soul.

Which is an. Interpretation. A bad one. But still one.

The narrative (and whether the narrative fits your personal moral compass and lack of critical thinking is irrelevant) treats Ciel as an agent in his own destiny. The abuse he suffered was the moment in which he had no control. It’s only after he meets Sebastian that he can rid of both his guilt and his despair, and do what he wants.

In this case though, it’s revenge.

The famous “Asthma” scene shows this. If Ciel is taken back to his past, he becomes helpless. Swarmed with pain and memories that make it so that he can’t even react. Sebastian is his saving grace. If Ciel didn’t have him, and the power he wields to rebuilt what’s broken, he would crumble once more.

If Ciel has a panic attack, because of all the pain he has, Sebastian picks him up and says “you are not a helpless child anymore, you are not a victim anymore, you have the power to do anything. So, what do you wanna do?”

Ciel’s answer is to kill them.

A proper analogy would be to say that, if Sebastian offers a gun, Ciel pulls the trigger. They are both at fault. Sebastian, strictly speaking, is not here to directly cause Ciel’s downfall, but as a tool Ciel uses to plunge into the abyss.

If, again if, you were to frame Ciel as a protagonist, Sebastian falls closer to the “Voice of reason” character. Not a literal voice of reason, but a literary one. If you have a protagonist and an antagonist exchanging ideals, the Voice of Reason serves to engage with the protagonist on their own ideals.

That said, Ciel isn’t the protagonist. The story quickly falls apart if you interpret it as such.

Things such as Ciel’s character arc being…shall I say odd?

It’s not that his character arc isn’t there, but it’s never lineal. His goals stay the same, the only thing that happens is that we start to peel back the “why”s of his goals. Throughout the series it’s never about Ciel understanding himself better, he knows who he is, he knows what he wants, he knows why he wants it. He doesn’t ever need to uncover these, but simply remember them. Because it’s always about the audience understanding Ciel.

He knows he wants revenge.

In the Circus Arc: He knows that he needs Sebastian because without him, the pain of the abuse he suffered would be too much to bear. But WE are introduced to it.

In the Book of Atlantis: He knows that with this new lease he does not want happiness and peace, he wants revenge. The one being told this is the audience.

In Green Witch Arc: He knows that their revenge isn’t for his family, the real Ciel or guilt. It’s because he wants it. He’s angry, he’s upset, and this is entirely for him. The one being told this is the audience.

Except. Not really. The one either discovering or remembering these key moments - is always Sebastian.

Sebastian is the one who reassures him that he now holds the power of a demon to override the pain. Sebastian is the one who remembers that to override that pain, Ciel wants revenge. And Sebastian is the one who discovers that that revenge isn’t built out of grief or guilt, but for himself.

We are witnessing it all, through the eyes of Sebastian.

This is why we have an extremely vague idea of who Ciel is, Sebastian does not have the whole picture.

If you haven’t been reading this manga with your eyes closed, you’ll realize we have a better grasp at Sebastian’s character than that of Ciel. We get a lot of insight on how he thinks and what he values through light hearted dialogue he has with the servants. You even see the character development in these little interactions.

Think about how when he first arrived to the mansion he magically created food with no regards to taste, but when he meets Bard he states that food is created to see whoever will eat it, smile.

That is character development, more than you will be able to see from Ciel.

Because Ciel’s character, while not static, doesn’t go from point A to point B. Mostly, cause it doesn’t need to. He went through that when he lost the real Ciel and got Sebastian. Everything we are watching is the falling out.

Now, given the fact that I’ve told you that it makes more sense for Sebastian to be the protagonist/main character, and that he 100% isn’t either a villain or antagonist in ANY of the interpretations you can get:

Do you believe me?

If you don’t, you’ll probably believe Yana herself.

This is from the first Volume, where Yana herself describes the process of making Black Butler. The primary idea behind the creation of BB was a butler as a “hero”.

If you go back to the introductory chapter, you notice that Ciel is barely mentioned. He’s simply the one to give Sebastian impossible tasks and standards that Sebastian must find how to overcome.

Ciel is properly introduced until the NEXT chapter. The second chapter has this formula too, introducing Lizzie as a problem to overcome. Although, to Sebastian the best way to “get rid of the problem” is simply to indulge her.

The issue here being that the problem isn’t as simple as a business meeting but something directly tied to Ciel and Ciel’s past. Each time that Sebastian has to solve a problem, it chips away at Ciel. While with Lizzie he shows a persona, once he’s alone with Sebastian he acknowledges the toll it took on him. It serves to build Ciel as Sebastian’s master, and how some problems aren’t as simple as discarding a tablecloth.

The third and the fourth, are a unified narrative, with a similar premise to the first chapter. Ciel gets kidnapped and Sebastian must find a way to retrieve him without raising suspicions.

If the first chapter is to set up what Sebastian must do as a butler, the third and the fourth serve to set up what he must do as a demon.

The entirety of the volume, and up to Book of Circus Arc, is about how Sebastian tries to follow the increasingly absurd orders that Ciel has - it is not about Ciel trying to solve them.

That’s how they work, we follow Sebastian for the most part, because he’s the one having to come up with the solutions.

If anything, in early Kuro, where the emphasis was more on a slice of life conflict, Ciel is the antagonist. He’s the one creating problems for Sebastian to solve.

What’s more, in the second volume, the very first chapter is one from Sebastian’s POV. So far, we hadn’t gotten an entire chapter from Ciel’s POV. In fact, I would find it hard to point to a single chapter where Ciel is the POV throughout. The reveal of real Ciel and the flashback is the closest contender.

But once we move past early Kuro, and into Book of Circus, this set up changes.

It’s fairly easy to assume that Ciel is the main character, because from this point on the conflict of the plot sorta surrounded him. We spend a lot of time with him and with his story. The enemies start being people directly tied to Ciel and Ciel’s trauma. Rarely, if at all, we get to see Sebastian before he met Ciel.The framing device for the story, is Ciel.

This is where point 2 gets intertwined.

2.- Sebastian and Ciel’s relationship IS the story.

The story begins at the point where Sebastian and Ciel met. Who Ciel was before he met Sebastian, informs why he’s the way he is when he does. You have to know all he went through to understand why he’s a brat, why he lashes out. However Sebastian’s past doesn’t matter…because Sebastian himself doesn’t care much for who he was, before he was “Sebastian”. That’s also part of the narrative.

Unlike Ciel, he doesn’t seem opposed to revealing information from before the contract. He talks about how pets from where he is from are gross, he talks about how he knows how to dance because of other places he’s been to, and alludes to the life he's lived before.

Just that, to him, they're footnotes.

He makes allusions to a very bland, uninteresting life, up to the point he meets Ciel.

That’s why we don’t know more about his past.

As for why we focus on Ciel’s story…okay maybe we need Creative Writing lessons 102

I studied Dramaturgy for about 3 to 4 years. And something you notice is how play-writing is the quintessential story telling. It’s making it work with the bare bones of a story.

Some other mediums have more finesse, more depth, or more spectacle - all amazing things that work for whatever they’re created for. But understanding a play, how and why it works, helps understand the fundamentals of any derivative story telling medium.

Particularly, conflict.

Conflict is dialogue and dialogue can take many forms. A story, in its essence, is a dialogue between two opposing ideas.

Take Batman, for example, who embodies the ideas of justice and order. On his own, he’s not a well rounded character.

If you ONLY present him, in a vaccum with nothing else, you don’t have a character. You have a list of characteristics that you’re supposed to know.

You only know who he is when you have dialogue with another character.

I say Dialogue, but it doesn’t necessarily mean spoken language at one another. Dialogue can mean fist fighting, playing tabletop games, talking to other people about the other, or even just a competition. The idea is to simply to compare and contrast both ideas.

If you want an example on how tabletop games serve as dialogue, watch the video “Well, Someone Had to Explain the Liar’s Dice Scene” by Lord Ravecraft

Another example, were we to retake Batman, you have him fight Joker. Who’s the embodiment of chaos and randomness.

In the following picture, you get far more information than the one previously shown. While the Joke fights with daggers and fake guns, Batman only uses his fists. He doesn’t use the tricks that Joker does. His serious demeanor, contrasted with Joker’s glee at the dangerous situation. The fact that Batman has a deathly grip on Joker’s shirt, while the Joker doesn’t, which shows a desperation to catch him.

You are being shown, through a dialogue, who Batman is.

It’s so much easier and much more effective to explore a character through another character.

This is the reason why Shonen has a tendency to make incredibly good gay ships. If you want to explore Naruto’s personality, and his feelings of inferiority, you HAVE to have him interact with Sasuke.

If you wanna understand Hinata’s passion for volleyball, you have him enjoy himself the most with the only other crazy motherfucker who’s as obsessed with volleyball - Kageyama.

And I think that originally, Yana had this problem.

Sebastian was the protagonist, but she had little room to develop him as a character in the confines of the manor, dealing with random enemies.

She likely tried to create Grell as someone of the same stature as Sebastian. Someone who could be this other person to engage dialogue with and show or allude to his past a bit more.

The problem being that Sebastian didn’t care for his past. Or really, engaging with anyone. He sees everyone as below him, but when confronted with Grell who isn’t below him, he doesn’t wanna talk to her.

So you’re stuck in conundrum.

How do you have dialogue with a character, that as a character trait, doesn’t really wanna have dialogue?

Well, Grell also solves the problem. Because only the moment she gets him to start any semblance of a dialogue - is questioning why he’s serving Ciel.

And this is the moment when it’s perfectly cemented that the focus of the story is their relationship.

Why is Sebastian here? Why does he stay? What did he see in Ciel that made him want this extremely convoluted contract?

THATS the dialogue.

THATS the conversation we’re having in Black Butler.

We need to know Ciel because understanding who he is, let’s us know WHY /Sebastian/ is here.

Then slowly, with the introduction with the Undertaker, we find out Sebastian’s conflict.

Which is…

He’s scared of losing Ciel. It becomes apparent with the constant imagery of the Undertaker taking away Ciel and at some point even obtaining r!Ciel’s body, that he’s worried it might happen.

But he can only be worried that Ciel might be taken away if he wants to stay near Ciel.

And that’s his character arc.

Realizing that he actually likes Ciel, cares for him and the role he plays a butler that he doesn’t want this to end.

In the first chapters, he doesn’t feel a need to protect Ciel anymore than what’s strictly necessary. Just don’t die, that’s about as deep as his involvement in chapter 4 gets.

But by the Green Witch Arc, he feels a need to protect Ciel from ANY harm.

This is why I also said

3.- Their relationship is fundamentally a positive one.

In broad strokes, Sebastian to Ciel is the person who allows him to survive. He’s not worried about giving up his soul since he’s already dead. While Ciel to Sebastian, is someone who’s making him have fun. He’s slowly becoming more and more attached to Ciel and the life he has with Ciel.

Their relationship is not that of just a predator and prey, but also of master and pet.

In the terms that Black Butler itself would call: Sebastian is a wild wolf acting like a collared dog.

Ciel is aware that the wild beast will eat him at the end of the day, but if he clings hard to leash for now, he might just be able to have Sebastian maul his abusers.

Sebastian as a dog, currently finds that he enjoys being a chained dog.

(This is demonstrated in the Green Witch arc where he quite literally says, he doesn’t wanna be a wild beast and prefers to be a butler)

And much like the actual DOG Sebastian, Ciel constantly interprets his attempts to get close and protect him, as an act of aggression.

This push and pull of Ciel’s perception of Sebastian and Sebastian’s true motives is what feeds the story.

And the briefs interludes were that isn’t the case (what other people call the “plot”, but I would refer to as the connective tissue) such as Sullivan and Wolfram, the other servant’s past, the grim reapers and the like, serve as a parallel to Ciel and Sebastian relationship. Either to signify how they care for each other, highlight their weaknesses or fears, or explore how they feel.

It’s no surprise that Sullivan and Wolfram are parallels to Ciel and Sebastian. A sheltered sickly child who seeks the protection of a cold hearted machine that only knew how to kill, but who eventually found he cared for her genuinely.

Undertaker and Claudia’s relationship being heavily paralleled with them, even though we aren’t 109% sure what they had but heavily implied it was a romantic attraction from the undead supernatural creature and a Phantomhive.

Everything is a parallel.

That’s why, like the approach of the terrible original video, is flawed.

Trying to interpret Black Butler as action scene after action scene, with mystery after mystery with the only connective tissue being the mystery of who burned down the mansion - is missing the trees for the forest.

That’s not the point.

And if you’re too much of a prude to engage with gothic horror in its gothic horror game, I see little point as to why you even bother to engage with it at all.

A lot of people, including the person who create the video, simply refuse to acknowledge Black Butler IS the story of Sebastian and Ciel as a close and positive relationship, romantically and sexually charged. The reason for it being that they’re “put off” by it.

Part of me wonders how much that is genuinely true, and how much is just performative outrage. It’s like ignoring the fact that Cersei and Jami are in an incestous relationship and try to frame it as “platonic love”, because the idea of it is THAT off putting.

But regardless of that, if you don’t like the fact that it’s as canon as canon can get, I would reccomend you don’t engage with the story at all.

As I’ve explained, the entirety of the series is about them. If you refuse to see Sebastian and Ciel as, at the very least, a duo that cares deeply for the other - you aren’t reading Black Butler.

I have no idea what you’re reading.Perhaps your own biases and subconscious stigma with British aesthetic. At that point, watch the fucking British Royalty Gossip Magazine. You’d find more substance there.

Just don’t be like the person in the video, please? Don’t play dumb. Don’t ignore the fact that Yana is a Shotacon, don’t ignore the fact Sebastian is a hero, don’t ignore the fact that the entirety of the story is based on Sebastian and Ciel’s dynamic.

Because if you do, you are ashamed. You are ashamed of what this story is about. You don’t wanna engage with the text, you want to engage with yourself. You wanna project into Ciel whatever traumas and experiences you have, for the sake a vanity project, where you come out as the morally superior.

You don’t wanna talk about Black Butler, you wanna talk about how good YOU are. How you “don’t sin” by watching it “without all the gross unholy stuff”.

Which is the exact opposite of what BB is about.

So, if you don’t want to, save us all the humiliation fetish and leave.

#Kuroshitsuji #black butler #sebaciel #essay #loli speaks

[just-aake]

Boundless Devotion - Part I

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: MedievalAU. Natasha is the eldest princess of the Romanov Kingdom. As the time of her coronation approaches, she is suddenly forced to make a decision – either find herself a partner or her parents will choose one for her.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Warnings: slight angst

Words: 1991

In the training yard of the castle, the sound of clashing steel fills the air as the Captain of the Royal Guard, Steve Rogers, faces off against the eldest princess and heir to the Romanov kingdom, Princess Natasha. 

The sun shines on the area as the two circle each other, carefully watching the other’s movement.

Surrounding them, some of the castle’s staff and the other knights pause in their activities to watch the match with anticipation. 

The captain lunges forward first, his polished sword gleaming in the sunlight. With a swift flourish, he aims a diagonal strike at her midsection.

In response, Natasha sidesteps the attack gracefully, her own blade moving smoothly to parry his sword.

The crowd watches with rapt attention as Steve continues to press forward with additional powerful swings, but the princess evades every strike, stepping as if she were dancing.

On a particularly powerful thrust, Natasha ducks under his attack, extending her arm to him. Then with a twist of her wrist, she expertly hooks her blade around his sword’s hilt and applies pressure. Using his momentum against him, she jerks the sword out of his grasp, sending it spinning through the air. 

The blade lands with a clatter several feet away.

Then in a swift and uninterrupted motion, she hooks her leg around the back of his knee, sweeping it out from under him. 

Her sword points at the captain’s chest in victory, ending the battle, as cheers and applause erupt around them.

With a quick twirl, Natasha holds her sword behind her before extending her hand to the captain. Steve gives her a grateful smile and takes her hand as she pulls him to his feet. 

He dusts himself off before giving her an exasperated look.

“Did you really need to show me up in front of my knights?”

Natasha gives him a smirk, replying.

“Well, I have to keep you humble.” 

Captain Steve Rogers was the one who trained her and her younger sister, Yelena, ever since they were little. Years later, they have both mastered their sword and martial arts skills, becoming one of the best in the kingdom.

Glancing around, Steve gives a stern look to the surrounding knights who rush to resume their training. When he turns back to Natasha, he nods in the distance.

“Looks like you have some guests, your Highness.”

Natasha brushes her hair out of her face, turning to look at the directed area.

At the edge of the training yard, she finds you standing alongside another noble, Lady Kate Bishop. 

Kate waves excitedly at her in greeting, and the golden retriever next to her also jumps in place, matching his owner’s energy.

Visits to the castle from the two of you were not surprising. With both of your noble families having prominent positions in the kingdom, it was natural that the four of you, including Yelena, would end up forming close bonds, having known each other since you were children.

Kate is Yelena’s closest friend while you are hers.

Well, you two used to be close.

However, ever since the incident last year on the night of her birthday, you’ve kept your distance from her, only seeing or talking to her when necessary. 

Even now, Natasha can see that the only thing holding you in place is Kate’s interlocked arm in yours.

Your body is turned towards the castle, and your eyes are looking everywhere else but her.

Natasha sheaths her sword at her side and walks over to the two of you. She is knocked back slightly when the golden retriever leaps at her in greeting, his tail wagging enthusiastically.

Natasha chuckles and pets his head, “Well, hello to you too, Lucky.”

Kate’s excited energy follows, moving closer, which in turn pulls you forward also. 

“That was amazing! You have to teach me that move!”

Natasha releases the dog with a final scratch before letting him return to his owner’s side. 

“I’m sure Yelena can show it to you the next time you two practice,” she tells her.

Kate nods to herself, reminding herself to ask the younger princess about it later.

Natasha turns to you, giving you a hopeful smile.

“How have you been, Y/n?”

You give her a slight bow in acknowledgment, your eyes still averted from hers.

“I’m fine. Thank you for asking, princess.”

Natasha's smile drops slightly at your neutral response. 

So far, her interactions with you have been like this, formal and distant, unlike the usual banter and casual teasing that typically characterizes your friendship.

Before she can ask anything further, Natasha notices a slight movement in your arm as you discreetly tug Kate, trying to get her attention. 

Kate turns to look at you in question and sees your pointed stare as you tilt your head subtly towards the castle.

Her mouth opens in realization, and she turns to Natasha apologetically.

“Oh, that’s right! I’m sorry, Natasha, but we have to get going. Y/n has a meeting with the queen.”

You are practically dragging her away as she finishes talking, offering Natasha a tight smile and a small farewell bow.

Natasha’s shoulders slump in despair as she watches you rush away.

It was disheartening to see her closest friend become almost like a stranger, but she can only blame that incident which caused this rift between the two of you. 

Sighing sadly, she pulls out her sword again and heads back toward the center of the area to resume her training.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha is practically sprinting to the dining hall with how fast she is walking through the hallways.

Guards and maids dodge out of her path as she rushes by, already understanding the need to hurry, judging by the time. 

As she approaches the entrance of the dining room, the guards open the doors for her to enter. Stepping into the room, she is immediately greeted by the queen’s reprimanding voice.

“You’re late, Natasha.”

Her mother, Queen Melina, sits at the head of the table while her father, King Alexei, occupies the opposite side. Yelena is positioned on the table's side facing her, subtly shaking her head in warning as her eyes gesture meaningfully toward their mother.

Natasha thinks back to how she spent the remainder of the day after her encounter with you, destroying the training dummies around the training yard in frustration.

By the time she realized how long she’d been training, the sun had already set. 

Deciding there was no point in making up an excuse, she settled with the truth.

“I lost track of the time,” she replies.

In response, Queen Melina nods at the chair closest to her, indicating for her to have a seat. 

When Natasha sits down, a member of the kitchen staff places a plate of dinner in front of her before stepping away.

In an attempt to break the tension, King Alexei claps his hands together and exclaims joyfully.

“Great, the family’s all here! Let’s eat!”

The members of the royal family start eating their meals, except for Queen Melina, who instead turns her attention to Natasha.

“I heard that you were at the courtyard today, training with the royal guards.”

“I was,” Natasha responds casually.

“What about your studies?”

“I already finished them all.”

“If you had told me earlier, I could have given you the next part of your lessons,” Melina admonishes before continuing her lecture. “You are about to be crowned soon as the next ruler of the kingdom. There’s always more that you can learn.”

A small snicker from Yelena catches Melina’s attention, causing her to direct her lecturing tone to the younger princess.

“And you should not laugh at your sister. At least she finished her studies. I heard that you didn't even show up for your lessons. Where exactly were you all day?”

Yelena shrugs nonchalantly before looking down next to her chair at the Akita dog eating from her bowl.

“Fanny wanted to go out for a run, so we spent the day out in the fields.”

At the sound of her name, the dog looks up attentively.

In response, Yelena gives her a gentle scratch on the head, before turning the dog's face toward her mother.

“You can’t say no to this face,” Yelena coos. 

Melina gives the two of them a deadpan look before shifting her gaze forward to her husband.

Alexei chokes on his food in slight panic when he realizes her attention has now turned to him.

“Our daughters have inherited your adventurous spirit,” Melina remarks accusingly.

“That’s my girls!” Alexei exclaims proudly before he catches the sharp glare from Melina. “I-I mean, girls, your studies and lessons come first. You know how important they are to your mother.”

Melina sighs defeatedly, shaking her head at his poor attempt at scolding. She returns her attention back to her eldest daughter.

“I have scheduled several meetings for you this week, Natasha. They’re with the daughters from some of the noble houses, so be sure not to miss any.”

Furrowing her eyebrows in confusion, Natasha brings her cup up for a drink as she asks for more information.

“What are the meetings for?”

“To find you a partner, of course.”

Natasha spits out her drink in surprise, coughing as she reaches for a napkin.

“Mind your manners, Natasha,” Melina chastises.

Ignoring her mother's reprimand, Natasha exclaims in outrage.

“Why am I looking for a partner?!” 

Unfazed by her tone, Melina answers her question with a serious expression, “Taking on the responsibilities of the kingdom is a lot for one person. You should have someone at your side.” 

Natasha makes a sound of disagreement and gestures at her in accusation.

“A couple of months ago, you told me that I was fully prepared to take over the throne,” she reminds her mother. “You’ve never mentioned that I needed to have someone back then!” 

“Well, that was before I realized that you have obviously made no attempt at looking for a potential partner. So I took the liberty to invite these lovely candidates to help you get started, and you will meet with them.”

Natasha huffs and crosses her arms, shaking her head in disbelief.

Seeing her reluctance, Melina continues, declaring, “If you cannot find someone by the time of your coronation, your father and I will choose one for you.” 

Natasha’s eyes widen, and her mouth hangs open in shock at her words.

This was not fair.

Throughout her life, her parents have never shown interest in her romantic relationships before. Suddenly, they decide that she is not capable of taking over the kingdom unless she has someone by her side. 

As Natasha tries to come up with a way so that she can get herself out of this situation, an idea comes to her mind.

“What if I’m already in a relationship with someone?” Natasha asks.

Three sets of eyes stare at her with varying looks of disbelief on their faces.

Yelena speaks up first, giving her a skeptical look.

“Nat, you’re popular throughout the kingdom, but the truth is, you spend more time with your sword than you do holding a lady's hand.”

Natasha subtly kicks her sister under the table in response to her comment, causing her to curse in pain. 

“Watch your language, Yelena,” Melina reprimands her before resting her clasped hands on the table and focusing on Natasha. “But she’s not wrong. I have not seen you romantically close with anyone,” she points out accusingly.

Without hesitation, Natasha smoothly lies, “We’ve been meeting in secret.”

Melina examines her critically, and she matches her mother's intense stare.

When Natasha’s gaze doesn’t waver, Melina relaxes her posture and relents. 

“Alright then, if you could tell me who you are in a relationship with, I will cancel all of the meetings.” 

The name rolls off naturally on her tongue before Natasha can even stop herself.

“Lady Y/n Dreykov. I’m in a relationship with Y/n.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Series Masterlist : Boundless Devotion

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

[controld3vil]

black cat

pairing(s): kenshi, johnny, havik, kuai liang/scorpion x gn!reader (seperate) synopsis: you’re a thief — a riff raff amongst the scum of seido. yet somehow you’re on the wrong side of justice, serving outworld. notes: - out of my volition, this was inspired by batman and cat woman’s cute dynamic <3 - LIKE REMBER THAT SCENE… where selina touches bruce’s face ?!?! (from batman 2022!!)

KENSHI TAKAHASHI -> There were many things Kenshi expected from his visit to the Outworld. Meeting you was not one of them. From your first encounter, you captured his attention — as subtle and graceful as a feline, he would say, your presence startled him and the rest of his friends. “General Shao, how unwise of you to berate our guests at first notice!” Your lively manner relieves the suspense between Outworld’s militaria and Earthrealm’s protector. He could discern the disturbance from the man in question as General Shao crudely sneered. Liu Kang clears his throat and gives you a content nod. You are fast — he thinks, always swift to leeway into conversations that have gone bitter. Kenshi does not recall mention of you - but it didn't matter.

-> “This is none of your concern, ambassador,” Shao’s words were only meant for disdain and spite. You modestly give a lazy smile — like a Cheshire, not taking his insult seriously. “Oh, but my duties are to accompany Liu Kang’s champions. The Empress demands it.” Your indulgence prevails when the general fails to make another quip. In the crowd, Kenshi is impressed by your way of words. You were an intriguing person – he will give you that. But you did not seem a person particularly invested in politics. You were apathetic to your job. -> At dinner, you conveniently visit his table with a wine glass. Liu Kang seemingly welcomes you, taking the seat across from the swordsman. Conversations were comfortable with you. As a diplomatic envoy, you’re surprisingly judgemental - and not afraid to communicate the demands of other cities. Glimpses from the princesses as you proceed with a story about the rulers of Sun Do. Infuriating it was to comply with their city’s needs like a glorified servant. Kitana is quick to pick on your drunken pursuit and drag you to your quarters. By the time you left, Kenshi felt enamored by you and your stories. “They're quite the character.”   -> There were rumors about you he could not ignore. Everywhere in the palace were snakes, more willing to let him know of your past. They say you were once a thief, a lowly criminal in the capital. How you came to become the royal ambassador was appalling to others at court. You were born into the lowest class. And here in Edenia, it was deemed as dishonorable. You did not grow up with the same education or environmental conditions. It makes Kenshi question your motives for coming here. How did you end up at this high establishment? It was not from pity - he knew from that. Maybe you were a strong fighter. Who was stubborn and willing to do anything to achieve your goals.  -> Unbeknownst, as his interest in you escalated, you took notice of him. The swordsman with an unfortunate past, you held compassion for Kenshi. And as your relationship bloomed, your respect for each other was apparent. You both worked harmoniously together well. In unison with your devious yet insightful strategies and his keen and precise swordsmanship. You taught Kenshi the ins and outs of the city. Tried to teach him how to steal and work up to the market sellers to bid lower prices. You always kept him on his toes. And Kenshi loved that about you. To you, the ex-yakuza held you in check – of your duties. Although he enjoys your time fooling around together, it would put the swordsman much at ease if you took your job seriously. With the realm's tense position, he urges you to take control and compromise with the other cities for the coming battle. And hopefully, when the war is over, the two of you will reconcile your relationship and make it official. [ kenshi ]: how can i convince you to stop stealing? [ you ]: have you ever thought about asking nicely?

JOHNNY CAGE -> He’s the one to catch you first. Johnny had clear suspicions of you during the first night of the tournament. When you spoke with officials and the royal family, it was too noticeable to miss. You were hiding something - Johnny wanted to get to the bottom of it. He finds your kindness to the princesses overbearing. Because why would a constable be affiliated with the royal family more than themselves? And the movie star had to open his mouth at dinner, eyeing you down with an arched brow. -> “Uh Liu Kang, I don’t mean to be rude but,” Both your eyes make contact – he quickly reverts his view to the god in question, “I think that person’s kinda shady, don’t you think?” His remark makes the rest of the Earth’s champions freeze, and the tightness of the air becomes far too evident. Liu Kang pauses, setting his teacup down, and looks to where you stand. From the far corner, you were chatting with Li Mei, arms crossed. You were enjoying your discussion until you sensed Liu Kang’s stare to tilt your head and give a playful wave. The First Constable thought nothing of your actions, how accustomed she is to how you acted around Earthrealmers, always telling them outlandish lies about Outworld. And constantly pretending to commit some heinous crime against the royal family. Something you would never do. -> “Fear not, Johnny Cage. They are no threat.” The Fire God’s words relieved the tension in the air. As everyone’s shoulders relax, Johnny probes on. He knows what trouble looks like – his mother was a cop! However, Kenshi waves his bickering off and waves them off as dull excuses. Nothing to worry about? You could be doing something behind the Empress and Constable's back. Maybe it was the way you carried yourself that got his attention. Or the comments his mentor sarcastically made about the dangers of Outworld. It was unlike Johnny to feel this paranoid. He had to figure out who you were. -> The movie star believed that once he caught you in an act, it would prove to his friends and Liu Kang that he was right about you. When he, Kung Lao, and Kenshi snuck into Shang Tsung's laboratory, surprisingly not, you were there alongside Rain, Tanya, and Princess Mileana on a medical chair. Just when Shang Tsung slowly approached the princess with a syringe with Tarkart's blood, they attacked. The movie star willingly stepped in your direction as if he caught you red-handed. “I knew it! You were behind all of this!” -> Everything turned bitter when Kenshi lost his eyesight to Mileana’s outbreak. It leaves a foul taste in Johnny's mouth once the situation is to be the treatment for the princess’s prolonged illness. When the royal guards come, you turn to face the Earthrealmers. “Did you truly think I would go against the royal family?” There was a flash of fury to scorn. “You Earthrealmers know nothing about Outworld business.” Johnny could only accept his wrongdoings, face facing down to the floor in shame and guilt. While what Liu Kang suspected of Shang Tsung was true – his assumptions of you weren’t. And for that, the movie star genuinely feels like he has misjudged you entirely. -> It takes time for him to reconcile with you. Escaping from Shang Tsung’s laboratory with his friends, he doesn’t meet you again. But when Earthrealm compromises with Outworld, you reappear alongside Li Mei and the royal family. In a different light, you’re easy on the eyes. Johnny desperately tries to make it up to you, always finding ways to warm up to your bitterness. Though much like a cat, you’re persistent and glares in his direction. Soon after, he learns of your past and is suddenly guilt-ridden even more.

-> Your relationship is a slow and rocky one. The two of you did not see eye to eye at the start. Johnny was wary of you, and you only made it worse by indulging in it. You two were at odds with each other. However, Johnny was somehow smitten with you. You were cunning and sly in all the ways a constable shouldn’t be. It was one of the ways he got your attention – suggesting all kinds of schemes against his friends. Your past never bothered him. Stead, it’s something he’s proud of you for. “I mean, thief turned cop? Now that’s a story I can get behind.” It brings a sort of middle ground and closure to both of you. [  johnny ]: look i know i misjudged you pretty harshly, how can i make it up to you? [ you ]: you can start by loaning me some money.

HAVIK -> He longs for you. Havik is too cruel and adamant to tell you, but he misses you. Many years before you left Seido, you were happily thriving as a criminal. He recalls his younger years, you and him pillaging villages. Stealing all you can to survive in the cruel world they decided to reject you from. Back then, you were free – out of touch with humanity and the rest of the Outworld. You didn’t care for his plans to run Seido to the ground and bring chaos. You didn’t understand it – you were merely teenagers, children. -> Before long, you slipped out of Havik's hand. The life you two endured was not living. Every day, you struggle to find food and shelter to stay by. It did not help for your kleptomaniac habits, mugging passing citizens of whatever they had on. Eventually, it had caught up to you, Havik deciphers. Because why else would you leave him? Unlike him, you left clues for the military to track you. You loved the thrill of leading them to nowhere. -> But now, the thought of you brings turmoil into his heart. He sees you in the distance when Quan Chi is interrupted by a former ally. There you were, he stands almost in shock and petrification. Havik was furious. All he could focus on was the plan to allow time to release Quan Chi’s creation, Ermac. He never considered where you would be until now that you were on the opposite side of justice. Why? -> “How could you,” Your name runs down his tongue like a pack of needles. It’s difficult to pronounce your name after many years of separation. Whatever he felt for you was long diminished in the fire he created when he left Seido. “After so many years, this was where you were.” He didn’t expect less from you when you curtly accepted his words. Yes, you said – it’s so bitter against him. What happened to you? When did you become so weak against the hierarchy? Where were you when he set ablaze to the city and joined forces with Darius? -> “What we had would have never worked,” You say this truthfully, getting into a defensive position. It hurts - how easily you dismiss it. Havik never thought of himself as a sentimental man – but the thought of you returning to him was a constant in his mind. From days to years to his study of sorcery and alliance with Quan Chi, Havik has destroyed more cities than he can count. Leaving you was a blessing in disguise. Because of his misfortunes, Havik retained powers that could destroy civilization. It drove him mad. -> Even with you against him, he was more than willing to suggest an act of mercy – if you were inclined to break a few bones. [ havik ]: look how weak you've become. have you not forgotten where you came from? [ you ]: i remember it clearly. you are the one who has gone too far!

KUAI LIANG/SCORPION -> Kuai Liang met you more than once during his time in Outworld. He merely appears when Lord Liu Kang intends to be present with business with the Empress. Years prior, it was the Emperor. But with the reign of Sindel, peace and prosperity had become a failing occurrence between both realms. Outworld claims to be growing more powerful – to overpower Earthrealm for the upcoming tournament. It makes Kuai Liang question his integrity and place at the palace when the Fire God asks for his presence instead of his brother. Bi-Han is the grandmaster of Lin Kuei, “Shouldn’t Bi-Han be the better option to accompany you?” -> “I do not want to provoke the Empress,” Liu Kang explains, looking at him from the portal. The pyromancer had confidence in his protector, nodding. His plain response was all it took to understand the weight of their appearance in Outworld. Though Bi-Han would be the rightful companion, it is Kuai Liang – the younger and more compliant brother who could ease into any circumstance. But his nerves are jaded. Kuai Liang is nervous, not knowing what the occasion was for. There could be many reasons for their requested presence. Yet he could not think of one that involved Lin Kuei.  -> Scorpion’s mindset eases when you surprise him. Guests are presumably guided by the First Constable, Li Mei, to the courtyard leading to the royal palace. Your head pops out from a bush, smiling in all your glory. “Lord Liu Kang, what a pleasant surprise!” The fire user's heart pounces every time you do this. It would be wrong not to expect you to greet Outworld guests in such an unconventional manner. Your name comes easily to the Fire God, with a sense of familiarity. “How nice of you to see us first,” Even Liu Kang takes joy in you. Unlike the many faces of the royal court, you are much more tolerable and pleasant to converse with. Even Kuai Liang thinks highly of you. -> Nodding your hair flows in such an elegant way. The Empress dotted you – but your loyalties lay with General Shao. Your go-lucky personality was in defiance of your rank as a lieutenant general. Yes, Kuai Liang recalled the previous tournaments and how distant Lin Kuei was from the Outworld’s military. They do not see eye to eye in handling foreign threats and commoners. It is your chief's distaste for Earthrealm, always speaking out of malice. But you were not like General Shao or Reiko. You never showed hatred towards Lin Kuei or Earthrealm. -> Kuai Liang feels restful chatting with you. He sat in the conference room with the Fire God as the rest of the court minded their seats. In such a large establishment, it holds divinity and high status, not even Kuai Liang is used to. Empress Sindel, alongside General Shao, you and Reiko arrive and take your respective seats. You are a few seats left of him and warmly nod in Scorpion's direction. He flushes at how a casual gesture from you can incite him. -> Ordinarily, matters began. The pyromancer had no desire to speak amongst the crowd, only per Liu Kang’s permission. Yet, a disagreement broke the two sides of the table in half. “Why should we allow Earthrealmers to roam unworldly like children while our cities burn?” General Shao and his recurring rants about Earthrealm. No one could convince him otherwise, not even the Empress. He then directly sneers at Liu Kang. Kuai Liang darts a stern look until he hears your voice in the corner, standing firm from all the voices that cower over you. There is a hint of softness out of the goodness of your heart addressing your superior. Compared to life in Earthrealm, life is precious, a tangent between innocence and purity, something Outworld is indifferent to.

-> In response, a repulsed look forms on Shao’s face. “You dare defend Liu Kang's wishes? You have no right!” In truth, you knew you could never quench his thirst to repress Earthrealm. But to try to diminish his outrageous outburst for another day is good enough. Curses and insults were spat from all sides, even directed towards you. You and your kind would not understand. You come from the slums of Seido. Do not forget your place, soldier. The court is a spoiled place even Kuai Liang wishes never to be a part of. Tonight was apparent why. You, who only spoke of the truth and fairness, were brought down by your general. It was unacceptable.   -> In the late hours at the palace, Scorpion resides in the guest room, where he fails to find peace. Liu Kang had bid him to rest to prepare for the following days to the other cities they must visit. But the second brother of Lin Kuei failed to do so. The palace was too foreign to the cold tundra of his home. Eventually, he chose to take a walk across the courtyard. The moon was bright and shadowed all the land. The murky ponds had unbloomed lotuses. They were not in season yet. He could still make out the premature colors from their early forms. The ripples of water were tranquil, featherlike. And of the reason why he did not notice your presence before. -> His body freezes when you tap his shoulder. His breath comes short before choking out your name. “Must you always frighten your guests?” You laugh, seeing how startled he has become. “My apologies, Scorpion. I could not resist,” Nights like these with you were ideal. Prevalent to his previous visits, the two of you would do all sorts of activities. You would invite him everywhere, across the palace and into the city. Wherever you went, he would follow willingly. A heartwarming meal by the port. Or even now, a peaceful walk through the gardens. With you, nothing is dull. -> However, when you are not running around, you are predictable. Such as now, as you both rest at a stone bench. Across, the pond was luminescent of the reflection of the night sky. If you were to look, it would be like looking in a mirror, the water clear as crystal. “I’m assuming you leave at first light?” Tragic how your relationship is. You and Kuai Liang reunite with each other like strangers, never touching. In another, you were like twin flames, never leaving. A small part of Kuai Liang feels regret for every time you depart on missions. He will never see you again for some time. “General Shao was furious! It was his way of punishing me for talking out of turn.” He has no right, is what Kuai Liang wanted to say. But with how things were, he said nothing. -> But you look beautiful like this, under the moonlight wake. Without the garments that shield your figure, you are relaxed. The days that turn to months are cruel - but willing to linger for you. Fortunately, a few moments of silence allowed you to rise, brushing the nonexistent dusk from your pants. You had nothing else to say to Kuai Liang. Was he expecting something? He follows your pursuit and looks at you promptly. Without the mask, he is handsome. “Maybe under different circumstances, we would have more time,” Your heart skips as you slyly glance at him. Placing a hand on his jaw, “Maybe next time…” You see his eyes trail from your fingers to your lips. It was not right - you both knew that. [ scorpion ]: the general's mistreatment of you is unacceptable. [ you ]: (laugh) fortunately that is how things work in outworld.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 1 x reader #mk1 #mk 1 x reader #mk x reader #mk headcanons #kenshi takahashi #kenshi takahashi x you #kenshi takahashi x reader #kenshi x reader #mk kenshi #johnny cage #mk johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage x you #mk havik #havik #havik x reader #havik x you #kuai liang #kuai liang x reader #kuai liang x you #scorpion #scorpion x reader #scorpion x you #these headcanons r out of hand #i need coffee!!

[kassiekole22]

im so excited to be able to share this request with you! 🥺 — could you do a headcanon with syzoth x princess!reader? *in my mind she's mileena and kitana's sister. — and she doesn't feel so included among the sisters and finds comfort among "the banished"

Ok, so just a warning: When I read this, I thought you wanted a fic. And I was already deep into this when I realized that you wanted headcanons. 😂 So if you want, I can still do the headcanons for you too. Just let me know! 🙂 And to my other requests, your fics are on their way! Anyway, here it is! My first ever Syzoth X Fem!Reader fic! Enjoy! 💚🖤💚🖤

No Longer Alone

Description: Being stuck in your sisters' shadows was never easy, especially when you live in the royal family of Outworld. You always felt as if you came in last compared to them and felt so alone. That is until one day when a mysterious man literally crashes your festival... Warnings: Fluff, Sad And Lonely Reader And Sad And Lonely Syzoth. Word Count: 2.6k MasterList: 🖤 Kassie's Angels: @lorebite, @mornandil. (If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments! 🖤)

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Never would I have thought that on that day — the day a strange man came crashing into our festival — that my life would change for the better forever. As much as it pained me, I wasn't allowed to interfere when the man went into battle with my sister. Being the youngest of the three royal sisters of Outworld, I was bound to the sidelines as I watched my sisters deal with any situation — unless they needed more numbers in a battle, of course.

I knew that they were only protecting me and that they didn't want to put my life in danger unless it was really necessary, but I couldn't help but feel left out. It was as if no one took me seriously — as a princess or a fighter — and that stung worse than any wound I would ever receive in any battle.

I sat on a nearby stool, watching the altercation from afar. It worried me, watching my sisters battle with no way to aid them. But I had no choice. I was damned to just sit and watch — just like the people I've been told are beneath us. Though I never really thought they were. What right did I have — someone who was born into royalty — to sit there and claim that my life was more valuable than any other. It just felt wrong. After some time, the fight seemed to come to an end with both the man and my sister seemingly not severely harmed. And then surprisingly, my two sisters approached me with the young man at their side.

I couldn't keep my eyes from following the man as he came forth. He seemed so different — so... Beautiful. There was something about him that lured me in. I just couldn't place my finger upon it at the time.

"(Y/N)," My sister — Kitana — addressed me and I stood.

"Yes, sister?" I responded as I stepped closer and bowed my head as a symbol of respect. It was what mother taught me to do, since my sisters were older and wiser than myself.

"This is Syzoth — he has come to aid us in upcoming battles." She notified me while introducing the mysterious man.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Syzoth." I greeted him kindly. "I am (Y/N). The third daughter of King Jerrod and Queen Sindel."

The man nodded with a smile stretching the corners of his lips and — to my surprise — he bowed before me. "It's my pleasure, princess."

I had never earned that type of respect from someone so soon. Being so young in a family of royals, many don't appreciate me the way I — at least — felt I deserved. I let my eyes linger upon the man as he stood to his full height and smiled warmly in my direction. He was so different compared to anyone I had ever met before.

After letting out a slightly annoyed sigh, Mileena broke the silence that had fallen between us all. "Sister, show Syzoth to one of our guest cabins by the castle. He can rest there for the time being."

I nodded eagerly and my sister handed me a key to said cabin, and then I gestured to the man to follow me in the direction I was planning on going. As I began walking down the stone road with him at my side, I could hear Kitana call out with concern filling her tone, "Be cautious, sister!"

I shook my head as an amused smile curled my lips. She was always so concerned for my well-being. But she should know that I can very much take care of myself. After all, they both made sure to train me well.

Most of the walk was silent until I noticed how the man watched his surroundings with much curiosity. He looked at everything as if it was new to him. I couldn't keep myself from glancing over in his direction once in a while just to watch his interesting behavior. 

'Is he from another realm?'

"So — where do you hail from, my friend?" I asked as we turned down a new pathway, leading towards where the guest cabins were.

"Oh, I'm from Outworld." He replied, much to my surprise. "Just not these parts of Outworld..."

The comment very much intrigued me and I wanted to know more, "Not this part?" I pushed carefully.

"Ever heard of Zaterra?" He asked with a hint of resentment and... Something else in his voice. Perhaps sorrow? I couldn't help but wince as the word greeted my ears and I responded with a simple and rather nervous, "oh..."

We reached the cabin but just as we went to say our goodbyes and part ways, I noticed a pretty deep and bloody gash on his right bicep. Being used to tending to my sisters' battle wounds when nurses weren't accessible, I knew the right thing to do was offer assistance.

"My — that wound looks pretty deep. I think there is a medical kit in the bathroom of this cabin. Do you want me to clean you up?" I offered kindly and he quickly shook his head.

"No, princess. I've already disturbed your night enough. Go enjoy the rest of your festival."

I mirrored his previous actions by shaking my head, denying his refusal. "No, I insist. It will only take a few minutes of my time."

After a minute of hesitation, the man accepted my offer with a nod of his head. I opened the door of the cabin with the key my sister had given me, we entered the cozy place and I instantly headed straight to the bathroom to retrieve the medical kit.

Once I returned a few minutes later with the needed items in hand, I saw Syzoth sitting on the couch in the middle of the room, looking around at his surroundings curiously like before. I found it oddly cute, how he seems so fascinated with all around him. I decided to watch his actions for a minute longer, before entering the room to greet the man once again.

I sat down right beside him on the couch, and quickly got to work on his wounded arm. He would flinch every once in a while, but he was pretty good at staying still for me. The room fell silent for the time being but it was actually fairly nice. He watched as I cleaned and bandaged his arm, but I didn't feel judged or criticized like I usually did whenever I was being trained by my sisters or mother. I felt... Rather calm with this man. I liked it.

"There you go — all better now." I announced as I finished wrapping the soft cloth around his muscular arm as carefully as I could.

He looked down at his arm for a moment, carefully inspecting the bandage before looking up at me with a grateful grin.

"Thank you, princess. You did a wonderful job."

I could quickly feel my cheeks stinging with heat and I instantly looked away to hide the blush I knew had stained them crimson. As a royal, I knew I couldn't mingle with one my family didn't approve of first. And besides, he could never feel that way for me anyway. Growing up, all the men in my village were always attracted to my sisters like moths to a fire. And it seemed to me that I was the lavender that repelled them. They haven't wanted me all my life, so why would they now? I quickly looked for anything to steer the conversation in a new direction and distract the man from my rose-dusted skin.

"Um... So, I must ask..." I began, struggling to find words as I thought hard of a good question to ask him — anything to steer the conversation away from dangerous territory. "I've never seen Zaterra, but I have heard stories about it from my ancestors. You don't necessarily look Zaterran. Were you adopted?"

The man stared at me for a moment with a blank expression — as if I had just said the most obsurde thing he had ever heard — before laughing heartedly for a few minutes. He shook his head as he calmed down from his fit of giggles, finally looking back at me with a large smile of amusement.

"No, I am not adopted. I am indeed Zaterran, princess." He informed me. Still being very confused, I just had to push for a clearer answer. 

"I do not understand. You look so— so—"

"Human?"

"Yeah,"

At that moment, Syzoth leaned forwards and lowered his voice as if to tell me something that was only meant for my ears to hear. I leaned in closer — until our faces were merely inches apart — and it had just then dawned on me that I had never been this close to a man before. My heart began racing as I felt his hot breath fan my skin like a warm summer's breeze. I was sure that I was blushing again.

I could see his face better now — every little detail of his tattoo, his beautiful light green eyes, the aged scars that were across his face and soft pink lips. I wanted to run my fingers along the inked design to see what it felt like, his soft green eyes lured me in like a wolf to the stars at night, and those soft pink lips... I wondered at that moment what it would be like if I leaned in a little closer and let them gently caress my own — how good would that feel? But then his low voice finally brought me back out of my little fantasy.

"Can you keep something only between you and me?" He whispered in a volume so quiet, I almost couldn't catch the words to comprehend them. I nodded slowly and he stood up from his spot, backing away from the couch. "Promise me you won't be frightened, princess?"

Though that last sentence did make me a bit worried and nervous, I nodded my head in agreement. Merely a few seconds later, the man disappeared. I was pretty confused but then suddenly a large, reptilian creature appeared right before me. He stood around 8-9ft tall, towering over me as he licked his big fangs. I could only gasp as my eyes stayed focused upon the creature — my body now completely frozen in shock. I couldn't comprehend how this beautiful man could transform into a reptilian creature. It seemed impossible. But it was Outworld, so I guess I shouldn't have been too surprised.

The creature then came forward and lowered his head to my side, showing that he had no intention of devouring me like my ancestors told me Zaterrans do. I placed my hand upon the top of his head and stroked his scales a few times to show that I wasn't afraid of him in his — I suppose natural form. He let out a low rumble that emitted from his chest and I couldn't help but giggle a little bit at the fact that he enjoyed the affection much like a tamed dog. He was actually quite a beautiful creature. I always had an appreciation for reptiles that my family could never understand.

The creature eventually backed away and suddenly, Syzoth was once again in his human form. He stood before me with a rather cheeky smile set on his lips. Whether he found it amusing how shocked I was or was just happy that I didn't run away, I am unsure. He approached the couch and sat down once again, staring into my eyes with almost hopeful ones.

"When my people found out about my "curse", I was terrorized and run out. They called me a freak..." He peered down to his hands folded in his lap as he whispered the last sentence as if it hurt his heart to speak those words, and that hurt my heart as well. Because in a way, I knew what it was like to be treated differently than others. "But that's why I'm here: To make a new and rewarding life for myself."

"You're not a freak," I exclaimed with a reassuring smile while placing my hand on his own. He glanced up at me as if he was surprised to hear me say those words — lips parted as if he wanted to speak, but didn't know what to say. "And I don't think it's a curse; It's a gift."

"So you are not afraid, princess?" He asked with a hint of nervousness in his tone and I shook my head.

"Of course not, Syzoth. I think your Zaterran form is rather beautiful. And you must be a mighty good fighter?" I nudged his shoulder playfully with my own and he huffed a short laugh.

"Perhaps once you are queen, I can be your protector?" He suggested as his lips curved up into a pretty attractive smirk. My heart began to beat faster once again for only a second until his words finally sunk in.

"Unfortunately, that won't be possible." I mentioned and he looked at me with confusion etched in his features. I figured that I should explain more thoroughly. "My sister — Mileena — is next in line to inherit the throne from our mother. I will never be queen of Outworld."

"Oh, I am sorry." He spoke sincerely and I simply shook my head to dismiss his apology, despite being grateful towards his empathy.

"It's fine, Syzoth. I am truly proud of my sister's accomplishments. I just wasn't meant to be a ruler." I gave him a faint smile to mask my hidden sorrow but it was plainly clear that he could see right through it. He had only known me for an hour and he could somehow see through the cracks of my porcelain mask of lies better than my family could. How funny is that?

He stared at me as if he was examining my features for a moment, before speaking in the softest tone I had ever heard spoken, "Well, you could be the queen of my heart instead?"

Coincidentally with his words, I felt my heart stop for a second as they sunk into my mind. My thoughts were racing around my mind at such fast speeds, that I began to feel dizzy and lightheaded.

'There is absolutely no way he just suggested— No, it's not possible— Or is it? Even if it was, there would be no way we could— By the Elder Gods, my sisters would never allow it!'

But just as I parted my lips to speak my refusal, my eyes set upon his hopeful gaze. There sat before me a man who saw my worth — who wanted to love me the way I deserved to be loved; how could I deny that?

"Syzoth," I spoke in the most soft and calm tone I could muster. I took the man's large hands within my own and smiled up at him in a loving way. "I would be honored to be the queen of your heart."

His smile broadened as his fingers clasped around my hands to hold them tight as he locked his warm gaze with my own. "Together, we will no longer be alone."

We both leaned forward and his soft lips finally collided with mine in a kiss that I had not only been waiting for for the past hour, but my whole life. It was as if color had finally been restored into my grey existence and — for the first time ever — I knew something that was finally set in stone — I knew that I would no longer be alone.

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#mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #mortal kombat reptile #mk reptile #reptile #reptile x reader #mortal kombat syzoth #mk syzoth #syzoth #syzoth x reader #KassieMortalKombatFanFics

[anonymousewrites]

Nature of the Human Soul (Book 1) Chapter Eleven

Platonic! Hazbin Hotel x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Alastor x Teen! Reader

Chapter Eleven: Convincing through Son

Summary: Charlie attempts to convince Cannibal Town to follow her into battle.

            Rosie lifted a megaphone and marched right outside to give Cannibal Town her announcement. She had Charlie and (Y/N) under her arms and was quite pleased to be bringing her guests around her territory. Alastor walked behind, pleased with how his plans were turning out.

            “Cannibals and cannibettes!” called Rosie. “Assemble in the square!” She looked at Charlie. “Now, darling, you know I would do anything, anything for my clients, but I can’t exactly command all of Cannibal Town to follow someone else into battle.”

            At least she’s respectful, thought (Y/N).

            “Now, don’t get me wrong, they love carnage and bloodshed, but to get this group in line, you got to win ‘em over.” She spoke through her megaphone again as they arrived at the square. “Settle in!” The crowd had gathered. “Settle in! Important meeting.”

            Charlie cringed. “But how do I—”

            “With sparkle! Razzmatazz!” declared Rosie, and (Y/N) decided they liked her even more now. “And that oh-so-appealing moxie of yours.”

            “Shouldn’t be a problem!” said Alastor. He grinned at Charlie. “It’s not like you’ve ever failed to inspire before.”

            “You can do it, Charlie,” said (Y/N) encouragingly as they walked onto the dais.

            Charlie groaned anxiously.

            “But fair warning, this group sticks together,” said Rosie. “So in order to convince any of them, you’ll have to convince all of them.”

            “Yikes,” said (Y/N).

            Rosie huffed. “And there’s one in particular—”

            “Ugh, Susan,” said Alastor, rolling his eyes.

            “Susan,” agreed Rosie. “Who’s a bit of an, uh…” She considered.

            “Ornery old bitch?” suggested Alastor cheerfully.

            “That!” said Rosie. She leaned down to Charlie. “She’s tough, but win her over and the rest will be easy as pie.”

            “You’ve got this,” said (Y/N), giving Charlie a thumbs-up.

            “Ready?” said Rosie.

            “I guess…” said Charlie.

            “Everyone, we have a very special, very royal guest this evening!” announced Rosie. “Please put your bloody hands together for Princess Charlie!”

            She waved awkwardly from the microphone.

            Instantly, a cranky voice rang out. “Boo! Bring Rosie back!” The crowd parted to reveal an old cannibal in furs waving a walking stick around.

            “Susan?” said (Y/N), looking at Alastor and Rosie.

            “Susan,” they said simultaneously.

            Charlie coughed and accidentally hit the microphone. The feedback squealed, and the crowd cringed.

            “Sorry! Uh, okay,” said Charlie, stumbling over her words. “Uh, my name’s Charlie, and—”

            “Boo!” heckled Susan.

            “Well, I run this hotel with my partn—”

            “Get off the stage you blue-blood bitch!”

            “—well, someone, and—”

            “Boo!”

            “Wait, let me start over.”

            “We don’t give a shit about some hotel.”

            “Angels are coming to kill us all, and we need help defending our realm.”

            “Leave before I eat those big-ass eyes of yours!”

            “So, we, uh, we need your help—”

            “Boo! Get off.”

            This really isn’t going well, thought (Y/N), wincing at how awkward the situation was.

            “With your assistance, we can make a stand for—” tried Charlie.

            “Where’s the showmanship?” sneered Susan.

            “I…I have a dream!” Charlie tried to sing.

            “Where all the finesse? Fucking mediocre.”

            “Fuck you! You old bitch!” Charlie snapped and gave Susan the finger.

            The crowd gasped.

            “Okay!” Rosie rushed up to salvage the situation. She took Charlie by the shoulders and guided her away. “We’ll be back after a brief intermission.”

            “Well, I think that went well,” said Alastor, grinning.

            “For you, yeah, because you got entertainment,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “Precisely!” said Alastor.

            “Do you think Charlie can convince them all to follow her?” said (Y/N), looking out over the crowd of cannibals.

            “If she can entertain them enough,” said Alastor. “And Charlie is always quite amusing.”

            “I hope it works. I think if we have numbers, we have a chance against the angels.” (Y/N) narrowed their eyes. “And I really want a chance to fight the angels. I don’t like them.”

            “I’m sure you’ll get plenty of chances to kill them to your hearts content,” said Alastor, grinning widely. “Just make sure to practice defense techniques with your magic. We can’t have you getting killed, can we?”

            “I’d rather not,” laughed (Y/N), and Alastor smiled. (Y/N) looked at him. “And make sure to take care of yourself, too.”

            Alastor laughed. “I am the Radio Demon. It will take more than some angels to harm me.”

            “You’re strong, yeah,” said (Y/N). “But, still, I don’t want you to die.”

            Alastor’s smile froze, and he cocked his head. Instead of getting a reply, though, Rosie and Charlie returned to the square before more could be said.

            “You can do this,” said Rosie gently.

            Charlie looked at her nervously. Alastor held out his microphone, and Charlie’s eyes widened. (Y/N) nodded encouragingly, and Charlie squared her shoulders, holding the staff in front of her. She took a deep breath and began to sing.

(Charlie) “Have you ever wanted something that was so clear in your mind that you could taste it?

            “You mean like human flesh?” piped up Susan.

            “Eugh, sort of,” said Charlie, smiling awkwardly.

(Charlie) “It’s a feeling like a rumbling in your gut that you could finally be faced with a billion needy faces, I guess what I mean to say is For the first time in my life, I might have to be ready for this.”

            She glanced at the others. Rosie clapped and smiled, Alastor gave a thumbs-up, and (Y/N) nodded and grinned. Charlie’s confidence surged.

(Charlie) “Ready to be the one who’s leading from the front, Gotta come into my own, Gotta come into my throne~ Gotta take charge and defend my only home, And although I kinda feel unsteady, Now I need to be ready for this.”

            She stepped down from the dais and walked among the people of Cannibal Town.

(Charlie) “Have you ever felt like you’re willing to die to save the people of your city?”

            “By ‘die to do’ you mean use my teeth to rip flesh apart?” asked Susan.

            “That’s a start!” said Charlie, deciding to let Susan have her fun.

(Charlie) “’Cause right now we need a leader, And it seems to me that Destiny has picked me to be that, If you’ll permit me. So who’s with me?”

            She spun around and grinned.

(Charlie) “Wouldn’t it be super to see more of Hell? Join up now if you like travel, Come on boys hope in the saddle, Lotta sights to see en route to my hotel, Not to mention the camaraderie, Yes, siree, you’ll form life-changing friendships With folks along the way!” (Alastor) “And feast on all the angels you can eat!” (Charlie) “Okay…”

            However, the incentive of food instantly piqued the attention of the crowd. The cannibals were excited, eager to get a taste of the exorcists that had plagued them for so long.

(Cannibals) “It’s time now to act, They’re on the attack! When they move to strike, We will fight biting back!”

            Charlie had done it. Alastor took back his microphone, and Rosie placed her own staff with a skull-head in Charlie’s hand to lead the cannibals.

(Cannibals) “We’ll follow your lead, We’re eager to feed, We’ll sharpen our teeth for the heavenly feast, From this moment on, you can count on us, To be resolute and ravenous! Our appetites are whet, and we’re set to seize the day, So I say, ‘Oh, hey!’ come join the flesh buffet!” (Charlie) “Well, that’s a little violent, Can we tone it down?” (Rosie) “Oh, don’t be put off by their snarlin’ That’s enthusiasm, darlin’!”

            Charlie looked out over the ravenous cannibals as they retrieved weapons and grinned widely.

(Charlie) “Eh, they just seem a little murder-y right now.” (Rosie) “Don’t worry, honey, that’s their thing, Keep singing.” (Charlie and Rosie) “We’re super-duper grateful to have you aboard!” (Cannibals) “We can’t wait to taste an angel’s wings!” (Charlie) “Oh, lord.”

            The crowd grabbed her and supported her above their shoulders, and Charlie looked out proudly, hands on her hips.

(Charlie) “For the first time in my life, Maybe I can be ready for this, I can be the marshal leading the parade, I can come into my own, And I think I’ve always known, My destiny could never be postponed! When Adam brings the battle here, I must appear Like I’m ready for this!”

            Rosie, Alastor, and (Y/N) grinned as they watched.

(Rosie) “They’re dancing along, They’re singing her song!”

            She spun (Y/N) around.

(Alastor) “Surprised, why, I knew she could do it all along!”

            He spun (Y/N) around, and they laughed.

((Y/N)) “She’s bound to pass the test as Princess of Hell!” ((Y/N), Alastor, Rosie) “Like her daddy, she is madly power-fell!”

            Alastor spun Rosie around, and she grinned and held (Y/N)’s hands, swinging them up.

(Alastor) “She’s filled with potential that I could guide!”

            Rosie grabbed him and (Y/N) and pulled them close.

(Rosie) “I concur!” (Rosie, Alastor, (Y/N)) “Stick with her, You’ll be on the winning side!” (All) “For the first time in our lives, We know that we are ready for this!” (Rosie) “We’ll show Heaven a fight they won’t forget!” (All) “It’s to take a stand!” (Charlie) “It’s time to lend a hand!”

            “Huzzah!” shouted the crowd.

(All) “Against all the angels and their deadly threat! We cannot take it anymore, The time has come to go to war, Prepare to fight, we’re ready for thiiiiis!” (Charlie) “I really hope that I’m ready for this.”

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#nature of the human soul #x reader #gn reader #nb reader #x gn reader #x nb reader #x teen reader #x teen!reader #found family #found family trope #father figure #alastor x reader #alastor #alastor x teen!reader #alastor x teen reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x teen!reader #platonic hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x teen reader #platonic #platonic x reader

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Patience, Zaldrīzītsos

At their pre-wedding tourney, Aemond sits in the stands with his sister – his betrothed – and holds her hand to help calm her while they watch the fighting, and continues to do so all through the dinner. He escorts her back to her chambers to kiss her goodnight, but kisses turn into something more…

Pairing: What is Broken!Aemond Targaryen x Fiancee & Sister!reader

Warnings: kissing, dry humping

This work is a part of my 12 Days of Smuff event! Read the rest here.

My Masterlist

Patience, Zaldrīzītsos

Prompt: Hand holding & dry humping

Two knights crashed together, the sound of clanging armor, shattering wood, and snapping bones echoing throughout the arena. Screams of horror and pain followed swiftly after.

In the Royal Box, the youngest of the King’s daughters cringed at the sight, tears forming in her dark eyes as she covered her mouth with a hand to suppress her scream.

She hated tourneys, hated fighting, hated any kind of conflict. She had not attended a tourney since the games hosted for her eldest brother’s thirteenth nameday, when she’d wept so loudly that several horses had bolted into the Kingswood. Her parents and the Small Council swiftly agreed that she would not attend any further events, but she was nevertheless required to be at this tourney.

For this tourney was to celebrate her. Her and her brother, and their upcoming wedding.

Three days from now, she would marry her older brother, her beloved Aemond, in the Grand Sept. The High Septon himself would bind their hands with ribbon and declare them one before the Gods. It was the fulfillment of a lifelong dream and the culmination of a love she had felt her whole life.

She did not remember when she began loving Aemond. She just did—all her life.

She loved staging mock battles between the felt dragons they played with in their nursery. She loved following behind him as he explored the castle and holding onto his hand when they found a particularly dark or ominous place (including their grandsire’s study one stormy night). She loved watching him train with Ser Cole, growing from an awkward boy to a strong and graceful man. She loved the adoration she always saw in his eyes – or eye, after that horrible night on Driftmark – when he looked at her. She loved the Valyrian nicknames he bestowed upon her all her life.

Haedus. Zaldrīzītsos. Maegītsos. And now, raqiarzītsos.

Aemond did not give anyone else nicknames, only her. He’s always made her feel special, loved, and safe.

Just as he did now.

As squires began hauling away the body of one of the knights, his blood leaving a trail in the sand, Aemond set his hand on top of hers and squeezed. “You do not have to look, raqiarzītsos, if it upsets you so.”

She turned towards him, allowing the sight of his gentle, handsome face to blot out the memory of the violence she’d just witnessed. He smiled at her and inclined his head slightly. “Sȳres. Ñuha nēdenka riña bony issa.”

Aemond sighed in satisfaction as he watched a blush color her cheeks. He leaned in closer, until she could feel his breath on her face. “Only a few more bouts, I promise. Then, we can return home.”

Unable to meet his adoring gaze for fear that the intensity of her affection for him would cause her to do or say something foolish, she looked down at her lap. “Yes, but we will return only to attend another feast. As the guests of honor, we will be expected to stay until it ends. I look forward to that as much as I did to this.”

The squires had begun raking the sand to hide the stain of blood.

“I know,” Aemond said quietly, entwining his fingers with hers and bringing her hand to his mouth, though he did not dare kiss that lovely hand in so public a place. “But I will be there the whole time, I promise. I will not leave your side.”

-

Aemond was true to his word, never leaving her on her own for a moment. He held her hand through the rest of the tourney, squeezing whenever he sensed she needed his reassurance and distracting her with his sweet words when blood was spilled. He held her hand the entire journey back to the Red Keep, gently brushing his thumb against the back of her hand. He held her hand at the feast whenever he could, only letting go so he could eat or when a particular dance required it.

And he held her hand as he walked her back to her chambers late that night, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to her temple when she leaned her head on his shoulder, exhausted from their day.

“Can I stay in bed and sleep through tomorrow?” she asked with a yawn. “I have no desire to watch a second day of violence. Besides, it would mean one less day of waiting before I become your wife.”

They reached the door to her chambers, and Aemond laughed as he opened it and led her inside. “I’m afraid Mother would be upset if you did. Though if it were possible, I would happily join you.”

Halfway to her vanity, she turned to run back to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and giving him a sleepy, mischievous smile. “You would join me in sleeping, or you would join me in bed?”

“Oh, raqiarzītsos,” Aemond groaned, pressing his brow to hers. He fought his instincts but at last relented and kissed her more passionately than was strictly allowed for an unmarried pair. “You know how much I desire you, desperately so. But we must refrain until we are wed.”

She whined pitifully in protest, burying her pouting face in his chest and inhaling his familiar scent of wind and brimstone. “But I don’t want to, lēkia.”

Aemond sighed and embraced her, nuzzling into her hair. “Neither do I, hāedus. But we must. I will not dishonor you.” She huffed and leaned further into him. “You must only sleep by yourself thrice more, and then I will be there to hold you every night for the rest of our lives.”

“You promise?” She lifted her chin and looked up at him. “I shall be very upset if you don’t.”

Aemond gave a breathy laugh before shaking his head in bemusement. “I cannot promise that I will never be away from you. The King and the Small Council may send me away on some mission, or…”

He frowned, brow creasing. That shadow followed them all their lives. The possibility that their half-sister Rhaenyra wouldn’t cede the crown to their elder brother Aegon and that she would attempt to dispose of them, so as not to have any threats to her ascension.

They never spoke of it aloud. But the threat still hung over each of them.

Aemond cupped her face in his hands, and she felt better – safer. Home.

“There may indeed be times when we have no choice but to be apart,” Aemond explained as gently as he could. “But every night I am able, I will be there to hold you. And I will do whatever I must to return to you as swiftly as possible.”

Overwhelmed by his promises and devotion, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a searing kiss. He held her back as tightly as he could, and as their hips met, she felt it.

“Aemond…” she separated from him though he chased her lips with his own. But she simply stared down at the hardness she’d felt pressing against her and the bulge it formed against his trousers.

He laughed. “I told you I was desperate.”

All the tidbits she’d learned of what went on between a man and his wife began to swirl in her head. She did not know much, but she’d heard many of Aegon’s crude comments over the years and some less crude from Helaena. Even Aemond, when they would sneak away together to kiss, had mentioned several things he wanted to do with her.

She hated not knowing. And she did not want to feel like a fool on their wedding night.

“Show me,” she asked breathlessly. Aemond balked, and she scrambled to find a reassuring response. “You don’t have to take my maidenhead, but just show me what I must do. I do not want to… to disappoint you on our wedding night.”

Aemond was silent for a long moment, his eyes searching her face as he absentmindedly petted her hair. She feared he would be disgusted with her for wanting him as much as he wanted her. That he would scold her, call off the wedding, or even hate her.

He didn’t.

He kissed her.

He kissed her, pulled her even closer, and began to roll his hips against hers.

“On our wedding night,” he instructed between sticky kisses, “you must kiss me. Just like this.” He held the back of her head in his hands and tilted her back, allowing himself to lean over her and press his lips upon hers with more force.

When she groaned, clutching at the lapels of his jacket as her knees weakened, he brought a hand to the small of her back to support her. “Then, I will take you to our bed, like this.”

Then he hoisted her up, linking her legs behind his back. Something about the movement allowed him to better press into some spot between her legs that sent sparkling pleasure through her veins. As he carried her towards her bed, she buried her face in his neck and began grinding against him, chasing that feeling.

“Next,” he said just before he laid her down in the center of the bed. “I will carefully remove every scrap of silk and lace they wrap you in and every bit of gold and jewels they drape over you until there is nothing left to hide you from me.

She moaned as he climbed onto the bed and hovered over her once more. She did not know what was more exciting, Aemond above her or his delightful words. “What about you?” she managed to ask. “Will you remain in your clothes?”

“Absolutely not,” he laughed, kissing every inch of her face he could. “For me to do what I want with you, I will have to be bare, as well.”

“Can I undress you, as you did for me?”

“You can do anything you’d like, raqiarzītsos,” he answered with a groan. “But I hope you do it quickly, so I can do this.”

Aemond seized her knees, pulling them up and apart so he could slot himself between her thighs. It was a perfect fit, as if they were made for each other. He only savored it for a moment before he began moving again, sliding his hips against hers.

“Oh!” she squeaked as he again rubbed against that same magic place over and over and over again. With each movement, her noises of pleasure became louder and louder until Aemond had to clamp a hand over her mouth to contain them.

He smiled down at her, his face as flushed as his as he moved faster and faster. “You must be quiet, riñītsos. You don’t want someone to hear us, do you?” She shook her head. “Do you think you can be quiet?”

Her eyes were wide as she considered for a moment. Then she sighed against his hand and shook her head ‘no.’

“Then what shall I do with you?”

She mumbled something Aemond couldn’t understand with her mouth covered, so he removed it with a smug smile. “What was that?”

“Can you use your lips instead of your hand?”

Aemond’s hips stuttered, but he smiled widely. “Oh, you wonderful little girl.”

Their mouths did not part until her body began to tremble all over, and she felt so hot that she thought for a moment she’d developed a fever. She tossed her head back, trying to scream, but only a long whine emerged. A burning pleasure spread throughout her, and she knew she would only ever feel like this again when she was with Aemond. He, too, seemed to experience something similar, a silent scream tearing from his throat as he pressed her hard into the mattress.

After their breathing steadied, Aemond grabbed her face to kiss her one final time.

“Three days, raqiarzītsos. Then I will have you entirely, and you will have me.”

#aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond imagine #aemond fluff #aemond one eye #aemond smut #aemond the kinslayer #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #hotd #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #hotd imagine #hotd x reafer #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #ewan mitchell #what is broken #12 days of smuff

[certifieddilfenjoyer]

Astral Prism, Orpheus & Raphael Theory

So you know how most people in Baldur's Gate 3 fandom make the Raphael joke?

I'm here to tell you that it's extremely hurtful, because his character has a lot more depth than some of you are willing to see.

Behold, my Baldur's Gate 3 theory:

Right before we enter Act 3, we are jumped by githyanki who want to retrieve our Astral Prism. We are summoned to the Dream Visitor - The Emperor, to help him in the fight.

We find out then that our supposed ally is an illithid but there is one more guy, The Gith, the Orpheus, The Prince of the Comet.

You can ask the Emperor what the heck is a githyanki doing there and he will tell you the brief story about the War of The Comet*.

He is going to mention, that he is bound by INFERNAL chains. Hold on? How come?

After we are done with the Royal Guard, we can go to the upper left side from Orpheus's prison and find an ancient Githyanki disc. It will tell us, that Vlaakith had some infernal business conducted with a devil with wry charm. Of course Raphael isn't the only devil capable of being charming, but it feels natural for it to be him when he is already a very important character in game.

Baldur's Gate 3 Wiki says that it is indeed Vlaakith and Raphael.

OK, but why would they exchange the Astral Prism and is it Vlaakith getting it or Raphael receiving the relic?

He is giving it to Vlaakith. But how would he be in possession of such an artifact?

My theory: He is the one who had it created for that trade. (Commissioned from someone else)

Explanation:

If you look at Hope's and Orpheus's prison, you will notice a striking resemblance at the crystals that can be only shattered by the Orphic Hammer. A Hammer, that Raphael is in possession of! How convenient!

(Even Hope's and Orpheus' eyes are glowing in the same way when they are enslaved.**)

The runes and the design of both Astral Prism and Orpheus' shackles are also strikingly similar. It does not look like anything of Githyanki creation, it screams infernal.

But that still doesn't really add up, does it? Who would possibly create such a powerful object which plays such a major role in the plot?

Here, we have to familiarise ourselves with the wonderful post by Bearhugsandshrugs

Em explains above who the people visiting House of Hope are***.

One of them is a crazy, extremely knowledgeable wizard who specialises in creating copies of himself which prevents him from dying in battle.

When we kill Raphael, we kill him in HoH, in his own domain. He should be gone, for good! But yet, upon interacting with the Orb of Infernal Envisioning, we see that he is soon to be devoured by his father. Hells do not split into separate planes - so either Mephisto snatched his soul somehow (which seems impossible because his body is still there and devil's souls are their bodies) or Raphael respawned and his father took one of his clones or something like that. (He's just so cool I had to put it in here, but let me return to my theory now)

Another name on the list points out to Raphael's interest in different planes (even the ones which don't seem to be reachable) but also, magical puzzle boxes capable of holding items inside. As you can see, the name on the list is under the uninvited visitors section, which most likely means that they either fuel his soul pillars or have been turned into a soul coin. So it didn't have to be that particular person helping Raphael with the creation of the Astral Prism, but it points out to his interest in that topic.

Now, when would that even happen?

Karsus Folly took place in -339 DR, BG3 takes place in 1492 DR, around 2000 years later.

The enslavement of Orpheus - so also the Vlaakith trade - happened at around -4000 DR.

It is not impossible that Raphael was already around and scheming at that time. Why? Because Mephistopheles gifted Haarlep to Raphael most likely when Raphael was about to get the Crown before his father snatched it. Comparing their visual age, it seems that Raphael was already a young adult cambion at around the War of The Comet age.

Another thing is the fact that, Kith'rak Voss, the badass Githyanki Red Dragon rider, the sword of Vlaakith, found out about Raphael and contacted him and told us to get our ass inside Sharess Caress. Raphael doesn't mention him having an 'office' there, it's Voss who does it. Only upon entering the place, we can interact with Korrilla who's like, hey girl go upstairs Raphael rented a room hoping you'd drop by. HE KNOWS WE SPOKE TO VOSS, he has to! And also, Voss was around when Orpheus got enslaved! According to Wiki he was inside the Astral Plane when that happened. And Raphael has absolutely 0 interest in trading with Voss, yet the githyanki managed to reach him somehow. In my opinion, when he finally realised the lies of Vlaakith, he was looking for a specific devil, for Raphael, because he might remember him from back then.

(* Justice to my poor Githyanki, the most based and cool race in BG3. Imagine how painful it has to be to realize over centuries of time that you helped the self-proclaimed queen establish her tyranny over your own people because you've been brainwashed to believe that Orpheus is a traitor and Vlaakith the rightful heir of the throne)

(** The eyes, the chains, the crystals. The top of the Orphic Hammer is literally partially built from that same gem/crystal and on top of that, if you use Examine on it, it clearly states that it has been built in Infernal forges.)

(*** headcanon warning: The Amulet of Vigor that is present in the Archive is actually proven to have some... Other invigorating capabilities ☠️☠️☠️ and the old, ancient, crazy wizard has the boudoir privileges. Coincidence? ☠️☠️)

Anyways, to sum up:

• Githyanki disc shows us a deal between Vlaakith and Raphael where the devil gives her the Astral Prism.

• Raphael orders creation of the Orphic Hammer (the name itself, come on, it's such a mockery just like House of Hope) to make sure that he has the means to free him if it will benefit him in any way.

• In exchange for the Hammer, he receives some kind of knowledge of ascension to godhood. (Lae'Zel tells us during the game that ascension is the githyanki's greatest honour but it turns out it is nothing else but ensuring that Vlaakith remains alive and a god, because she just consumes the life force of her greatest warriors)

• Hope's and Orpheus's chains are strikingly similar and the part of the Orphic Hammer is built from the same gem/crystal that seems to be enslaving both of them.

So yea, my humble request is that you start fully appreciating the incredible writing of the game, instead of just focusing on the shallow 'haha bottom' jokes. I could make another post about that itself, but it's pointless. I hope you enjoyed!

#bg3 raphael #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 githyanki #orpheus #vlaakith #bg3 tav #kith'rak voss #the emperor #astral prism #theory #fan theory #bg3 headcanons

[growingstories]

A royal affair

In Madrid in 1850, there lived a skilled bullfighter named Gonzalo, who at the age of 24 possessed remarkable looks and height that made him stand out in the crowds of that era. Followed by big and adoring crowds, Gonzalo followed in the footsteps of his famous bullfighter father. People flocked to see him not only defeat the mighty bulls but also to catch a glimpse of his handsome features. Women drooled over him, while men became envious of his courage. With each fight, the size of the bulls in the arena grew, and the stadium became increasingly packed with spectators.

One fateful day, Prince Alfonso, the second son of King Carlos, attended Gonzalo's fight as a devoted fan. Gonzalo was honored by the Prince's presence and had the chance to meet him after the intense battle. Prince Alfonso found himself charmed by the handsome fighter and promised to bring along friends and family to witness Gonzalo's next fights. True to his word, the news spread like wildfire, and when people learned of the Prince's intention to bring royal and aristocratic guests, the stadium overflowed with eager spectators. People paid exorbitant sums of money to see Gonzalo face the bulls and catch glimpses of the high-ranking attendees. Gonzalo's income skyrocketed as a result, and he began living a life of and comfort luxury.

The Prince and his guests became regular attendees, closely following each fight and engaging in subtle flirtations with Gonzalo behind the scenes. Though they were both aware that their feelings for one another were forbidden due to their differing backgrounds and Catholic doctrine, they found it increasingly difficult to deny their growing attraction. Gonzalo became a frequent presence at parties and gatherings, his social encounters with the Prince becoming the ultimate goal for any host.

Following one particularly memorable party, Gonzalo was secretly led into the palace, where he and the Prince engaged in a passionate evening of love-making. The Prince made sure to provide his fighter with alcohol and snacks to restore his strength after the fights. Just before the onset of summer, during one of the final fights, the Prince arrived at the stadium accompanied by his father, the King, which elevated Gonzalo's status even further.

The crowd went wild, and after the fight, Gonzalo was publicly invited to the palace for a dinner celebration. First, he was granted private a audience with the King and Queen, during which the King expressed his admiration and pride. He mentioned knowing Gonzalo's father many years ago and expressed his desire to see Gonzalo more frequently. Following this special meeting, a lavish dinner commenced, overwhelming Gonzalo with the sheer quantity of food. He felt embarrassed to consume so much but was compelled to eat a little.

After the dinner, the Prince instructed Gonzalo to discreetly exit the palace and enter a carriage waiting around the corner. Following the Prince's instructions, Gonzalo found himself secretly escorted to the Prince's private chambers once again. To his surprise, a buffet of delectable desserts from the dinner awaited him. The Prince observed how the sight of the desserts had enchanted Gonzalo, yet he declined to indulge. Determined to satisfy his lover, the Prince prepared a massage, which soon led to passionate lovemaking. After their intimate encounter, the Prince indulged Gonzalo's love for food by feeding him in a frenzy of gluttony until Gonzalo could no longer move. The Prince found himself increasingly aroused by witnessing his lover enjoy the food, and their evening ended with incredible pleasure shared between them.

The following day, Gonzalo was quietly smuggled out of the palace once again, making his way back to his humble apartment. However, as he arrived, he was surprised to find the King's carriage waiting for him. Summoned by the King himself, Gonzalo was asked to come to the palace immediately. Intrigued and slightly apprehensive, he obliged.

Upon entering the palace, Gonzalo was greeted by a sumptuous breakfast laid out before him. The King sat across from him, looking regal and amiable. Over the course of their meal, the King explained that the court would be relocating from Madrid to Mallorca for three months during the summer, in order to escape the heat oppressive of the city. To Gonzalo's surprise, he was asked to join the court and be a part of their activities.

The King explained that Gonzalo would be expected to participate in one bullfight for the court and special guests every week, as well as join them for several lunches and dinners throughout the three-month period. In return, he would receive a generous payment and be provided with a Summer home near the palace, complete with staff. Intrigued by the prospects and still slightly hungover from the previous night's revelries, Gonzalo found himself tempted by the offer and agreed to join the court.

Before leaving, the King instructed Gonzalo to prepare all the necessary materials for his bullfights, as the courtiers would bring everything to the island. Over the next two weeks, Gonzalo was swept up in a whirlwind of events. Every night seemed to bring about a lavish dinner or reception to commemorate the end of the social season, and Gonzalo was invited to them all alongside his secret lover, the Prince. These events often culminated in passionate afterparties in the Prince's chambers, accompanied by an abundance of champagne and extravagant snacks.

As the weeks went by, Gonzalo found himself indulging in the excesses of courtly life. His once athletic physique slowly gave way to the comfort of rich meals, leaving his abs hidden beneath a layer of flab. While the bullfights themselves went well, the absence of many guests made them somewhat dull and lackluster. Each fight was followed by lengthy, opulent dinners. Unfortunately, the Prince, who was often out sailing with his friends, had little time for Gonzalo, leaving him with little to do but consume whatever food was placed before him.

One night, while alone in his private chambers, the King summoned Gonzalo and confessed that he desired private company, as the days on the island were often long and lonely. Feeling obliged and somewhat confused, Gonzalo reluctantly agreed. The following day, he accompanied the King on various trips around the island, during which they indulged in heavy breakfasts, fatty lunches, and lavish dinners, all accompanied by copious amounts of alcohol. A few days into this arrangement, the King surprised Gonzalo with an unexpected kiss in the palace gardens. Unsure of what to do, Gonzalo reciprocated, believing that he had no choice but to comply with the king's desires. This continued for several days until the Prince returned.

When the Prince saw Gonzalo after his absence, he couldn't help but notice his lover's growing belly. Teasing him playfully, the Prince commented that court life seemed to have been treating him well. Unaware of his father's own desires and intentions towards Gonzalo, the Prince remained blissfully ignorant. During a lunch, the Prince proposed taking Gonzalo on a boat tour, but the King interjected, refusing the idea. Though the lunch had not yet concluded, the King insisted that Gonzalo join him to explore the city of Palma instead. Gonzalo was forced to endure another two courses before the King deemed it enough.

During this time, the Prince shared with Gonzalo that he would be waiting for him at the Summer house before dinner. Several hours later, after strolling through the scenic streets of Palma with the King, Gonzalo was dropped off at his Summer home. As anticipated, the Prince was eagerly waiting for him, delighted to finally have some time alone together. Amidst their reunion, their deep affection for one another manifested in a passionate encounter, a welcome release after weeks of separation. They made plans to reconvene at the Summer house after dinner, cherishing the stolen moments they managed to share.

During the long and extravagant dinner, the King made sure that multiple courses were served, prolonging the meal for hours. Just before dessert, the King decided to take a stroll through the garden and invited his son and Gonzalo to join him. The men engaged in lively conversation as they walked. The Prince, feeling exhausted and hoping for an early exit, asked the King if he and Gonzalo could be excused before dessert. However, the King adamantly refused and led the men back inside.

Inside, a grand dessert buffet awaited them. Gonzalo, conscious of his tightening uniforms and the need to maintain his physical agility for bullfighting, only took a small portion. He didn't want to trouble the tailor with new uniforms. Unfortunately, the King had different plans in mind. He ordered servants to pile every dessert onto Gonzalo's plate and demanded that he eat all of it. Despite feeling stuffed after the sixth plate, Gonzalo was presented with four more. Perplexed, the Prince questioned his father's insistence on serving Gonzalo more desserts. The King replied that he saw Gonzalo's unwillingness to join him for the summer as ingratitude, as he had offered Gonzalo the opportunity to spend time with him, the King, but Gonzalo opted to spend time with the second Prince instead. According to the King, Gonzalo needed to act like a grateful guest and comply with his wishes. In silence, Gonzalo consumed everything that was offered to him, growing increasingly sick and sweaty but unable to stop for fear of disappointing the King.

After two torturous hours, the King finally declared that the dinner was over. He informed the Prince and Gonzalo that they were expected the following morning for a meeting with the Cardinal. Frustrated with the events of the evening, the Prince sneaked out of the palace and went to spend the night at Gonzalo's house. Gonzalo, feeling confused and already uncomfortably full, had no desire for any additional activities. He hoped that the Prince would find a solution to this predicament because at this rate, he knew he wouldn't be able to continue his bullfighting career much longer. The next morning, they returned to the palace, ready for their meeting with the Cardinal.

The Cardinal, a very large 45 years old with a handsome face, joined them at the table, where an extravagant breakfast had been prepared by the servants. Eager not to repeat the previous night's embarrassment, Gonzalo tried to eat in moderation but was careful not to refuse any offerings. The King, completely focused on the Cardinal, instructed the servants to bring more and more food. When the Cardinal politely tried to decline, the King insisted and ordered a large birthday cake to be brought out. The Cardinal, unable to refuse, reluctantly consumed another slice. Despite his discomfort and aching stomach, the King persisted and offered him yet another slice. Sweating and in considerable pain, the Cardinal finally had enough when the King suggested they take a walk. Gonzalo and the Prince observed their struggle from afar.

During a brief moment alone, the Cardinal warned Gonzalo to steer clear of the King if he wished to avoid a fate similar to his own. He confessed that, 20 years prior, he had been in prime physical condition, much like Gonzalo. The King, charmed by him due to his courtier status and wealthy background, had coveted him for himself. The Cardinal, however, had other plans. He intended to marry and manage his family estate. Nevertheless, the King proposed a cardinalship to his family to ensure his constant presence at the palace. Bound by duty to his devoutly Catholic family, the Cardinal could not refuse this honor. As a Cardinal, he became a regular attendee at events where the King would go to great lengths to flood him with excessive amounts of food. Powerless to refuse, the Cardinal tried to avoid attention and obediently followed the King's every command. With his growing size, the King gradually left him alone more often and ceased the flirtatious gestures and kisses during their walks. As the King and the Prince returned, the Prince was instructed to discuss the budget for a local church renovation with the Cardinal, while the King requested Gonzalo's company for a walk. Aware of what would transpire, Gonzalo resigned himself to the situation and accompanied the King. The King lavished Gonzalo with compliments and, at a discreet moment, resumed kissing him, to which Gonzalo reciprocated. When Gonzalo returned home, he discovered a box containing a beautiful golden brooch adorned with sapphires and diamonds. A note enclosed read, "Thank you for your service, HM the King."

In that moment, the Prince appeared, asking how their walk had been. Gonzalo simply replied that it had been fine and that he was content to go along with it. The Prince agreed, and they once again engaged in passionate intimacy. Later that afternoon, Gonzalo found himself having to participate in a bullfight. He was uncomfortable fighting with his belly and tight uniform, but he managed to easily defeat the bull and put on a captivating show. During the fight, Gonzalo noticed the King flirting with a handsome courtier, the son of a Duke. He realized that this would be the King's next target, but also saw it as an opportunity to distance himself from King the. After the fight, the King approached Gonzalo and informed him that he had the night off, as he desired some rest. The Prince overheard their conversation and arranged a dinner for the two of them at Gonzalo's Summer house. It was a magical evening spent together, filled with intoxication, cuddling, and delightful food. However, the Prince shared some somber news - his father had ordered him to leave for one of colonies the in the Americas to serve as an ambassador for three years. Although it was far away, the Prince viewed it as an opportunity to learn about politics and experience the world. Thankfully, they still had three weeks left before the end of the Summer on the island.

The next morning, an unexpected servant arrived at Gonzalo's Summer house. The Prince hid while Gonzalo greeted the servant and received a summons from the King. He was to accompany the King on the royal yacht and pack for a week-long trip around the Balearic islands. The Prince rushed back to the palace to ask his father if he could join, but it was too late - the King had already departed. Gonzalo met the King on the yacht, which was grand and had its own cabin. There were numerous servants on board, as well as navy sailors to navigate the ship. They set sail immediately and enjoyed a modest breakfast, which relieved Gonzalo.

At the first stop, they took the opportunity to swim and indulge in some drinks. The King undressed, revealing his remarkable physique that he had maintained throughout his reign. On the other hand, Gonzalo's excessive meals had resulted in a noticeable belly. Initially embarrassed, Gonzalo was reassured by the King, who claimed responsibility for his weight gain and promised to provide him with less extravagant meals. Indeed, lunch was smaller than usual, and dinner at a local nobleman's mansion was equally lavish but with more restraint. Once back on the boat, they had a few more drinks and passionately kissed. This time, the King invited Gonzalo to his cabin, where they spent a passionate night together. The next morning, Gonz foundalo a beautiful gift awaiting him - a golden seal ring with his initials.

Over the next six days, they stopped at various coastal towns in the Balearic islands. It was a breathtaking tour, and wherever they went, they were showered with feasts and hospitality by local families noble. Each evening after dinner, Gonzalo was invited to the King's cabin. On the seventh day, they returned to the harbor of Palma, and the King informed Gonzalo that he was expected back at the palace the following morning. Upon arriving at his home, Gonzalo was greeted by the Prince, who was overjoyed to see him. Gonzalo was conflicted and unsure of what to do. Should he confess his affair with the King to his lover, or should he keep quiet? Ultimately, he decided not to anything reveal and simply expressed gratitude for the opportunity to explore the islands. The Prince hoped they could spend one week together before his departure to the for Americas three years and promised to request a week off from the King.

The next day, Gonzalo returned to the palace and had breakfast with the Prince, Cardinal, and the King. The breakfast was lighter than usual, and the Cardinal seemed relieved when it was over. The Prince asked his father for permission to go to Paris to prepare for his upcoming trip in peace, and the King granted his request. Gonzalo, on the other hand, requested to leave the island a week early to begin training, as he felt unfit. The King agreed, providing Gonzalo with four more days on island the before a week of pleasure with his lover. During these last few weeks, the King ensured that Gonzalo remained by his side at all times. The young courtier also accompanied them, and both he and Gonzalo were constantly offered excessive amounts of food. While young the courtier struggled with the quantity, Gonzalo grew accustomed to the immense feasts. The Prince watched with disgust as his father indulged in such behavior but remained silent. In the afternoons, the young courtier would join the King for a stroll, while Gonzalo was invited to the King's chamber at night once again for encounters passionate. Unbeknownst to the Prince, he began to worry about his father's intentions.

Upon arriving in Paris, the Prince organized a private dinner at a luxurious hotel. They became intoxicated together and walked through the streets of Paris, enjoying their anonymity. It was a refreshing experience for both of them, as they were able to momentarily escape their royal obligations and be ordinary individuals.

Eventually, it was time to bid farewell, and the Prince departed for the Americas. Back in Madrid, Gonzalo was once again invited to the palace. The King had organized a grand dinner with numerous noble guests, and Gonzalo became the subject of conversation due to his noticeable weight gain since his last appearance in Madrid. Embarrassed and unsure of what to do, Gonzalo turned to the King for guidance. The King asked why Gonzalo hadn't lost weight during his training week, causing him to blush and make excuses. Gonzalo claimed to have lost some weight, but his weight gain was simply difficult to notice. He further expressed the need to become fit again should the King wish for him to fight in a prominent stadium, as it could potentially endanger his safety. The King agreed to allow him to train more frequently and personally attended his sessions. The sight of Gonzalo accompanied by young stable hands in the stadium filled the King with jealousy, and he insisted on having lunch and dinner with Gonzalo every day. Despite Gonzalo's concerns that it would impede his weight loss progress, the King paid no heed. Instead, he made sure Gonzalo was served copious amounts of food, using it as a distraction to keep him occupied. At night, Gonzalo would stroll through the palace gardens before being invited to the King's chambers, where an array of cookies and pastries awaited. The King fed Gonzalo these treats during their intimate moments, increasing Gonzalo's arousal despite his heavy stomach. Gonzalo resigned himself to the situation, realizing he had little control over it.

Gonzalo requested one last bullfight to bid farewell to the crowd. The King applauded the idea and invited all his noble friends to attend. In between the immense lunches, dinners, and nightly feedings, Gonzalo trained as much as he could. It proved challenging with his protruding belly, and he worried about the potential consequences. Despite his efforts, Gonzalo continued to grow larger and larger. On the day of the fight, he felt an overwhelming nervousness. As he entered the arena, whispers filled the air, highlighting his substantial weight gain. Initially embarrassed, Gonzalo pushed through, determined to win his final battle. Glancing at the King, he noticed that the King was accompanied by the young courtier, who was also notably larger, and another young man. This sight enraged Gonzalo, and he saw an opportunity to teach them a lesson. He ate voraciously, consuming everything in front of him. No matter how hard they tried, Gonzalo out-ate the others. With aching stomachs and beads of sweat, they decided to go for a walk. The two courtiers were relieved. The walk proved difficult for Gonzalo after his long period of bedrest and increased weight. Sensing his struggles, the King suggested retiring to his chambers, where the feeding continued.

This pattern continued several nights a week, with occasional walks or outings without the courtiers. On the nights that they weren't invited, the King made sure there was an abundance of food to keep Gonzalo occupied. As the weeks passed, Gonzalo ballooned in size with no clear purpose in his life. Seeing this, the King offered him a position as the of head banqueting and protocol within the court. This meant overseeing all of the King's social gatherings and events, a fitting role for Gonzalo. A few nights a week, he would be invited into the King's chambers, and the rest of the time, he would ensure the King's needs were met, particularly when it came to the courtiers the King surrounded himself with. Gonzalo saw this as an opportunity to fatten up the courtiers, just as the King had done to him, before eventually sending them away. And so, Gonzalo embraced his role, making sure the courtiers grew in size until they were deemed ready for departure.

As time went on, Gonzalo continued to expand, indulging in his new position. With no true purpose in life, he allowed himself to eat excessively, growing larger each day. He approached the King, seeking guidance on how this lifestyle would continue. The King expressed a desire to keep Gonzalo close but exclusively not. He explained that the court would gossip, creating an embarrassment for the King. The King proposed that Gonzalo become the provider of all the courtiers' needs, in addition to his existing responsibilities. Gonzalo accepted, realizing that this would allow him to ensure the courtiers became as big as the King desired before they were sent away.

Ultimately, the story ends with Gonzalo growing himself in his new role, facilitating the indulgence of the courtiers and succumbing to his own insatiable appetite.

#fictionalweightgain #maleweightgain #maleweightgainstories #weightgain #weightgainstories #fictionalstories #wg fantasy #wg fiction #exjock

[ahearthoficeandstone]

You are the first child of the Florinius family, your birth had predestined you to become the next ruler of H'afeara. But it has been ten long years since the Empire of Aea had declared war upon your home. Ten years fighting to keep your kingdom's independence- for your chance to rule- only for it to ripped away from you. And it's your own fault.

You had one more charge to lead against Aean forces, and you had lost that battle. Losing was no stranger to you, but none had been thorough and devastating. This loss had ended with you being taken as a prisoner of war, and the end of the war soon followed.

Now you are "free", a welcomed "guest" in the Aean court.  Being executed would have been a fairer fate.

[Contains elements of: court intrigue, romance, mystery, slice of life, and fantasy]

...

This side project is still in the planning stage, and things will be slow to come.

[Demo: TBA]

[Ask Rules][Playlists]

in progress...

- Semi Customizable MC (personality will be fairly set)

- Make friends, enemies, maybe lovers? Still deciding who gets to be an RO

- Decide how you navigate life in a foreign court

- under construction

Aea Royal Family

Empress Dalia Solia Vespera | she/her | 176

Dalia’s reign has thus far been one of tenuous peace, which is relative. Her predecessor had walked the path of conquest of new territories while Dalia prefers to keep the empire’s current territories in line. She is a calculated and distant with a face that is ever neutral. 

King Consort Caesario Julius Vespera  | he/they | 140~ish???

The reason for the war. 

Edela Soleil Vespera | she/her | 37

Crown heir of the Aean’s empire. Edela is a woman who holds her head high, some may call her over confident but she cares little for the words of others. The lives of most around her mean little to her anyhow. She is also known for her highly destructive gravitational magic and is a formidable battle mage you luckily did not have the misfortune of going up against.

Augustus Valentino Vespera  | he/him | 30 | RO

The second in line for the crown is the eldest son of the Vespera family. He is a formidable draconian knight, and the very soldier who struck you down in battle. Despite it all, he seems to be the only member of the royal family who wishes to make your stay at least somewhat bearable.

Camilla Junia Vespera + Camillo Felix Vespera | he/him + she/her | 28 (twins)

The Vespera twins are always found at each other’s side, even on the battle field. They are a terrifying duo, even the most twisted members of the court shudder in their presence. Camillo always has a sinister smile on his lips and is the clear leader of the duo while his sister Camilla trails behind him like a ghost. The two take care of criminals of the highest order, thankfully they were not permitted to try any of their information “extraction” tactics on you.

Diedre Vespera | he/him (atm) | 24 | RO

The youngest of the Vespera children. A sickly man with a bitter disposition. He bears no empathy for others and bringing others down with cruel words is the only thing that seems to bring a smile to his face. He takes special joy in ruining his wife's day.

Aea Royal Court

Astra Aurora Valeria | she/her | 27 | RO

Aurora is an confident woman that many look up to. She is gentle, intelligent, and beautiful, a potent combination that makes her a magnet for the court’s admiration. Occasionally you catch glimpses of cunning ambitions in her eyes. She is also the wife of Diedre Vespera. 

Arielle Seballius | he/him | 29 | RO

Ari is Lady Astra Valeria's loyal body guard, wherever she is he is not far behind. Ever since she married into the royal family he has been at her side, though he is not a knight in title or in spirit. He has a playful demeanor but the words that can come out of his mouth are as sharp as his sword, or they would be if he ever carried his weapon with him. 

Asrani Alim Valencia | they/them | 26 | RO

Cousin to Lady Aurora Valeria and leading inventor in the courts of Aea, many are jealous of the young noble and believe their position as royal inventor comes from nepotism through their cousin. Asrani is a quiet person always lost in thought, so quiet that it is easy to forget they are right next to you. 

Ambrose | she/they | 24 | RO

Ambrose is an actual guest of the court, from the kingdom of Vakar. She is sunny and deeply kind, with an earnest and genuine demeanor that is horribly out of place in such a miserable place. Like a candle in the dark, you don’t know how she still smile in this environment. As sweet as she is her attachment to her “god” is a bit disconcerting.

Ira Maenius | she/her | 35

A noblewoman from the coastal nation of Nizath, one of the empire's closest allies. Her family is known for amazing naval navigation and does a lot of foreign trade. Despite her affinity for water magic, Ira can be a bit hot headed. She is stubborn and quick to react, but she always tries to do right to the best of her ability. But that doesn't mean she can't complain a little while doing it.

Laika Aurelius | she/he | 32 | RO

A disowned child of a merchant family from Vakar, you can't imagine why she lives amongst the Aean court. People do not take too kindly to her and make that quiet known. Perhaps it's because he has a penchant to sleep around, or the fact that he has a sharp tongue that always seems to strike at the most sensitive of nerves. Regardless she seems to be having fun.

Volo | use whatever man | ??? | RO

A mysterious court artist, the empress' favorite at that. You don't know how Volo sees well enough through their mask to paint but you know talent when you see it. Painting is not Volo's only skill, Volo tends to jump from artistic hobby to hobby to fill time. Leaving half finished collages, music sheets, and screen plays in Volo's wake as Volo seeks Volo's next muse.

Noel | they/them | 26 | RO

Once a soldier in the Aean army now a medical professional, Noel is in line to be the next royal physician. They train under the current one and love their work dearly. Noel is compassionate and patient, seeking to soothe whatever pains you regardless of if you are their patient or not. They find beauty in all things, but is partial to the primal beauty of the natural world. Their magic allows them to work in tandem with nature to bring their patients the best medicine possible.

Venus | he/they | 28 | RO

An Aean knight with a grouchy disposition, seemingly friends with Lady Ira Meanius. Their tendency for bluntness and straightforwardness can be is both a blessing and a curse depending on who you ask. Venus is never seen without his scowl and a snide remark on his lips. Despite being a lower ranking knight he holds his head as high as any of the top knights, and takes great pride in his duties. His current one being your personal guard.

Yves | m/f  (gender selectable) | ???

Your personal attendant, assigned to make you feel more at home. Dutiful and never heard, like every servant should strive to be.

??? | ??? | ???

Fate is a strange thing isn’t it?

??|??|??

Some things were never meant to be...

#interactive fiction #interactive novel #twine game #text based game #choose your own adventure #interactive game #no demo

[mirai-e-jump]

Animage April 2024 Issue ft. Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger Main Cast Member Interviews (translations below)

Publication: March 8, 2024 (after broadcast end)

The kings have become immortal

The Uchu King Dagded Dujardin is the most powerful and very worst, having destroyed many planets in the universe. After a fierce battle, the Royal Sentai finally defeated and destroyed Dagded, ending his 2,000 year long history.

The victory over Dagded would've never been achieved by the power of the kings alone. There were the retainers, who continued to support the king from behind the scenes and were highly trusted by them. The former living, who watched over from the Kingdom of Death, Hakabaka, offered their lives and thoughts to the current kings. And, the key to the descent of the Super Fury Ultimate Complete King-Ohger, was the people of the six kingdoms, who created an "endless chain of small lives." In other words, this was achieved only because the entirety of life on Chikyu sided with the kings and rebelled against Dagded.

At the end of an endless chain, lives are forever connected…These words spoken by Reiniol are surely not only about Chikyu. We, who have witnessed the story of Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger, are also entrusted with the task of weaving an eternal story by connecting our lives together. _

Gira Husty: The evil king. He understands the feelings of the Shugod's and settles the battle against Dagded. He was smiling even as the proposal to unite the six kingdoms fell through.

Yanma Gast: The king of wisdom. Using the power of the King's Proof, he created a plan to counter Dagded. He promises Gira that he'll restore the rest of the scattered Shugod parts.

Hymeno Ran: The queen of splendor. She asked her parents, who emerged from Hakabaka, to treat the injured. While thinking of a name for the new country, she proposes "Great Ishabana."

Rita Kaniska: The immovable king. They're rescued by their former king, Karras, who had been revived from Hakabaka. Although they declared the founding of the new country, they were frustrated because no one could come to an agreement.

Kaguragi Dybowski: The lord of abundance. He received assistance from the former lord, Iroki, who emerged from Hakabaka. When deciding on the name of the new country, he tried to get the middle part.

Jeramie Brasieri: The king of inbetween. He's saved by his mother Nephila, who rushed to him from Hakabaka. As a storyteller, he recorded and left a message for the future people of Chikyu. _

Rushing through daily commotion

-Thoughts on the final three episodes that wrapped up the past year-

Murakami: I felt that it was a performance where everyone's teamwork shined through in their cool and united efforts to face the enemy.

Sakai: When I read the script, I thought that the sense of unity of the citizens joining together to fight against Dagded would be the major highlight.

Watanabe: I thought it was really great to see the development of having the people we've been protecting help us in the end.

Kaku: It was amazing that even all the characters from the movie appeared on TV as well.

Sakai: Nakamura Shido-san also made an appearance through his voice.

Murakami: It was truly extravagant. It makes me want to do another movie (laughs).

Watanabe: It was great to see all the people who have appeared so far at the end, including the guests featured in the movie. Over the past year, everyone was passing the baton, but in the end, we all reached the goal together.

Ikeda: Regarding Jeramie, it was very emotional to start out as the storyteller from the first episode, to then end up passing down the story to future generations.

Kaku: The fact that they tried to create a new country free of national borders, but couldn't come together in the end gave off the charm of the Royal Sentai, huh?

Hirakawa: Right, right. Everyone seems to be looking in different directions, but in reality, they're all looking in the same direction. I felt that the way it ended was really good, giving off that typical Royal Sentai feeling.

Sakai: I was moved by the ending, with the main idea seeming to be based on accepting other countries and races.

-The most surprising development after reading the script?-

Murakami: When Rita……(she notices Ikeda-san raising his hand), please go ahead.

Ikeda: Is it okay if we raise our hands?

All: (laughs).

Ikeda: Then, I'll start. What surprised me would have to be the episode where Racules betrays Dagded (episode 41). The developments from episode 41 were memorable because Racules was portrayed in a charming way.

Murakami: I'm next! I would've never expected the development of Kaguragi using his King's Proof to burn Rita as they seal off Minongan in a blizzard (episode 45).

Kaku: That's for sure. I never imagined Kaguragi and Rita would team up.

Murakami: I also like the fact that activating the King's Proof created a new technique, and the way it was used was abit interesting.

Hirakawa: That position.

Kaku: This (he spreads both of his hands out together with Hirakawa-san)

Hirakawa: (while imitating Kaguragi) "Good night~!"

Ikeda: I wasn't able to watch the filming, so I'm looking forward to watching the broadcast (this was pre broadcast at the time of this interview).

Hirakawa: Kaku-san mistakenly said, "Please go home" (laughs).

Kaku: Yeah. The staff said, "Okay then, we're going home~" and left.

All: (laughs).

Hirakawa: That scene was really cool though (laughs).

Murakami: For the dialogue, "Taselles Mirullia Da'pago" was actually supposed to be said in episode 5. They weren't able to include it due to the length of the episode, but it appeared later in episode 30. I was happy to see that many of the things that we couldn't do for various reasons were picked up in the later half.

Watanabe: Anyone else surprised that time skipped forward two years midway through?

Kaku: Yeah! That was really exciting.

Watanabe: As someone who loves shonen manga, it was hot.

Hirakawa: The visuals changed completely.

Sakai: It was also good in terms of motivation for filming.

Watanabe: The change in costumes made it feel fresh.

Kaku: Right, right. It didn't feel boring.

Ikeda: Another surprising thing was idol Rita, no? (episode 38).

Hirakawa: Even now, I'm still really surprised.

Watanabe: I was surprised at the amount of staff during filming.

Sakai: The number of cameras was just incredible.

Watanabe: Seriously. I think they put the most effort into it out of everything in King-Ohger (laughs).

Kaku: The cameras for behind the scenes use were also rolling, right?

Hirakawa: This was the episode where the staff gave their all with blood, sweat and tears (laughs). It was the first time that there were four cameras rolling.

Murakami: It was movie level. It was like "Oshi no Ko."

Ikeda: We even went to watch the filming in order to drag the perfect smile out of them.

Hirakawa: Thank you for coming at that time, really.

Kaku: The body swap (episode 28), Taisei and the others, those three became babies (episode 45), we got to do alot of things that you can't do in a normal drama……It was alot of fun.

Murakami: It was~. Also, getting turned into a pill bug (episode 15).

Sakai: That's right (laughs). Early on, Gira had alot of episodes with disguises.

Murakami: Things like the "playing dead" strategies (episode 11). In terms of surprises, Hymeno gave Kaguragi an anesthetic in episode 8, right? I was surprised by the scene in episode 42, where it was revealed that Racules had been using it.

Kaku: I also thought that I had killed the carp with poison, so I was relieved and thought, "Thank goodness, Kakuragi didn't kill it." I can say this now, but when I asked Director Yamaguchi Kyohei if Kaguragi had poisoned it at that time, he was hesitant to answer.

Murakami: Maybe the Director didn't know about developments either?

Kaku: Maybe. I was told, "Please make a face that can be taken either way."

Hirakawa: When you think about it, it's incredibly difficult to act out Kaguragi.

Sakai: It felt like Kaguragi had the most scenes where his performance had those kind of hidden meanings.

Murakami: And Racules too. Everyone in the 30s group was like that.

Kaku: There were definitely alot of us.

-Describe this team with a single saying?-

Kaku: Charisma Sentai Superstar.

Ikeda: Yes.

Hirakawa: Then it's settled!

All: (laughs).

Sakai: But, surely that's the only way to go. Everyone's got their own charm.

Watanabe: And they're kings.

Sakai: Higuchi Kohei-kun of Donbrothers also once said, "Everyone has their own charm."

Hirakawa: Heh~!

Kaku: That makes me happy.

Murakami: Not just the characters, but all the actors are also unique, and their differences are interesting.

Kaku: That's for sure. We all had different directions, but there were no fights. The six of us came together with a good balance.

Hirakawa: Everyone was so kind.

Sakai: No one ever got too emotionally involved. Even if there was something on my mind, they wouldn't meddle unnecessarily.

Hirakawa: I feel like we didn't interfere with each other too much.

Sakai: I'd say we were a balanced, calm team.

Ikeda: Would you call it calm charisma?

Sakai: Super Charisma Calm Sentai?

All: (laughs).

Hirakawa: That's too confusing (laughs).

-A message from the kings to the people-

Murakami: Throughout the episodes over the past year, I think there were various messages and words of support that the Royal Sentai were aiming to convey, and I'd be glad if they resonated with you. It would make me happy if this production acts as a hint towards taking your own path in life, and that all of our fans will be able to live in a beautiful world.

All: (applauding).

Kaku: The words you said just now, I'll take it those are the words everyone else was going to use, huh?

All: (laughs).

Hirakawa: Marie just said what we all wanted to say!

Murakami: Is there anything I didn't say?

Ikeda: Something like, "I was very happy to meet you all" or, "Thank you very much for your support."

Kaku: I don't think children understand the content of the story in depth right now. So, I hope that when they grow up, they'll watch it again and see that the kings they admired back then were such great characters.

Watanabe: I have one last thing to say.

Hirakawa: What?

Watanabe: I know this is goodbye for TV, but when you suddenly remember us, I'd be happy if you could come and visit Chikyu to play.

All: Oooh~!! (applauding).

Hirakawa: That's perfect!

Kaku: And with that, finally, our leader!

Sakai: Right……I'd be happy if you'd continue to love this show even after it's over. Thank you very much!

Ikeda: "…..or so it goes."

#charisma sentai superstar... #ohsama sentai kingohger #kingohger #super sentai #gira husty #yanma gast #hymeno ran #himeno ran #rita kaniska #kaguragi dybowski #jeramie brasieri #animage #my scans #my translation #tokusatsu #toku cast #kingohger cast #ohsama sentai king ohger #king ohger #I thought this issue also had the geats interview #turns out it's in animedia...

[milky-aeons]

𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆

౨ৎ . . . in which prince GOJO SATORU must keep quiet in lieu of his lover's surprise guests.

warnings: m!reader, prince!reader, aladdin!au, established relationship, swearing, bondage, gag-play, gag-speech, exhibitionism, mentions of marriage, sexual content, oral giving (m!reader), mdni, w.c 3.8k

♪ . . . ˗ˏˋ ꒰ supernatural — ariana grande ꒱ ˎˊ-

The country of Agrabah boasted extreme temperatures at this time of year. Solace from the scorching rays could only be reached in shaded corners, at the banks of the River Jordan, or behind the walls of small settlements with their tarps pulled shut. There was never many citizens to see out on the cobbled streets at high noon.

But in this throne room, one of the many stray guards thought, a cold lick of sweat trickling down his back, one would not think they resided in the sunny Middle East. But, perhaps, an igloo in the Antarctic.

"You are showing improper manners when in the company of your Sultan, son and prince of mine."

"Eh, that so? Go tell someone who cares."

Chasing after those drawled words was a harsh pop when the prince cracked his neck. He rubbed the spot soothingly, then rolled his head the other way, hoping to do the same.

Every soldier lining the golden walls shared a wayward look. From high up on the platform with which he sat; the Sultan — His Majesty, the Ruler of these lands — twitched his eyebrow.

"Really. You do understand I could have your head right this moment. Delivered to me on a golden platter?" He hissed at his son. When there was no reaction from the troublesome prince, the Sultan's temper flared — he shot to his feet, red-faced, and barked, "Satoru!"

Prince Satoru grumbled at the shrill voice splitting the air. He sunk down deeper into the lounge, as if hoping it would swallow him whole and release him from whatever the hell this was meant to be.

"Oi, oi, old man," He griped, digging a finger into his ear. "You sure yellin' like that is good for you, right now? You could keel over at any second, ya'know?"

Metal clanged softly as each of the soldier's guard shifted to grip their sabres — their Sultan was livid; he was flushed and fuming and looked just about ready to mete out an execution warrant. For his own son. Their muscles tensed, nerves on fire. Because of course, they would obey anything and everything their Majesty ordered of them as sworn militants to his hand.

But everyone in Agrabah's fine Palace walls knew that fighting the Prince Gojo Satoru was a losing battle before it could even begin.

To their relief, the stout Sultan let out a long, grieved sigh, and sunk back down onto his perch.

"Must you make every conversation a task with you?" He grumbled, rubbing a beringed hand down his face.

Satoru's face stretched into a smile. "And lose the fun of riling you up? Not a chance."

Prince Satoru leaned up and bowed his body into a stretch. Decorative chains, golden pendants and all other jewellery this royal was adorned with clinked together through the movement. He collapsed onto the cushions once more. "So?" He moaned. "You didn't drag me all the way to the throne room just'a scold me. Whaddya want?"

"What I want," His father spat, emphasising the word like it was venom. "Is to talk about your nuptial duties you have been conveniently ignoring."

"Don't know what you're talkin' about." Satoru hummed. His eyes had wandered to the great furry beast that had taken interest to prowl his way. Striped and deadly — one of the many Palace pets butted his head into Satoru's palm when he held it out affectionately. "Neither does Rajah, actually." He added, gesturing to the massive tiger that had curled up at his feet.

A cool stare was all he was answered with. When the Sultan spoke again, it was dripping with impatience, "You may play the fool all you wish, boy, but the fact will always stand that you are to take this throne one day. And for that to be a smooth, successful transition, you must show unity. You must take a partner to make your ruler, alongside you."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm already one step ahead of ya there" Satoru said. "I've already got my someone, don't I?"

"If who you refer to is that low-life prince you have been rolling in the sand with—"

"Oi." Satoru raised his voice. The single syllable carried the impact of a whipcrack. "Watch it, old man."

But the Sultan surged forward. "You can not possibly believe to take the throne with a prince from such a disgraceful family as your—!"

BANG!

The sound of the lounge chair hitting the floor jarred everyone in the throne room; even those most seasoned in battle gave a flinch. Rajah hissed and growled; one poor maiden had become so startled she let the palm leaf she had been using to fan her Majesty clatter to the stone tiles below.

Satoru stood to his unbelievable towering height. All the fine robes and silks he wore draped over his body exposed flesh that tightened in rage. He practically vibrated. And his eyes — how they blazed. A radiant blue fire that contested with droplet sapphires hanging draped around his waist.

He glared up at the Sultan, his voice like a winter storm, "Let another fucking word come out of your wrinkly mouth about him and see what happens. Go on. I dare ya."

Perilous silence fell and settled against everyone's shoulders. No one dared move — which emboldened Satoru to take a step forward, raising his chin in that brave gesture he always had since he was but a fledgling boy.

"That's what I thought. Now, why don't I make somethin' clear? When you finally cough one too many times and bite the dust — it will be me that sits up on that throne, and it will be him who stands by my side. It's gonna be him that all those civilians bow down to; who they marvel and respect. And not because of what family he was popped out of — but because he is just that fuckin' awesome. There's nothin' that's gonna change my mind. Either I take him to be my husband, or walk and leave your Palace empty and dusty. Do I make myself damn clear?"

Perhaps it was because he was too stunned at his son's gall that the Sultan refused to answer — his dark eyes wide and startled, his lips twitching with words but no sound. Or, perhaps it was because this ruler had realised something; that he was a fool. An oblivious fool for not noticing sooner how deep his heir's relationship stretched with the prince residing on the other side of the River Jordan, and what repercussions it was bound to have.

"Good." Satoru chirped when no one spoke a word, his expression suddenly sweet and silly. With one smooth movement did he twirl on his heel and sauntered right out of his father's throne room.

The grape was ripe and juicy as you popped it into your mouth, delighting in its tart sweetness spreading over your tongue. You smiled wide around your mouthful, grabbing another.

"Is the fruit to your liking, your Majesty?"

The question had come from the older, scarier gentleman of your guard who stood closest to you on the balcony. Of course, there was a specific reason he had asked that question — one that involved powerplay, that taught the young servant holding the fruits tray a lesson in subservience. You glanced over your shoulder to him, then to the little boy whose arms had begun to shake in poorly concealed terror.

You held the servant's watery eyes for one second, two. Then let a smile beam across your expression.

"Why, it's wonderful! I think it might be the best fruit of the season. And this young man here has prepared them quite well," A small yelp squeaked out of the boy when you swooped down to steal the platter from his hands — who knows what your guard would do if he dropped it. "Make sure his family are treated well for this, won't you?" You directed at your guard.

The solider stiffened to solute. "Yes, sir."

But you saw the stormy dissatisfaction that raced across his eyes — you must not be so soft-hearted to your servants, you could already hear him scolding you later that evening; when the sun had set and the walls no longer had ears — a strong prince does not give all his riches to commoners, he must bet on the winning piece that occupies the chess board.

The servant-boy looked unsure as to what to do with himself — his eyes flickering nervously from your face to the tray in your lap. Smiling, you leaned down from your perch on the stone balcony, and lay a soft hand on his shoulder.

"You may go now, boy. Tell your father you have done well, today."

An emotion that looked stuck between shock and elation contorted his tan skin — but he nodded feverously. And then ducked underneath your dozens of guards to race down the Palace halls.

"Such a sprightly little man." You chuckled, listening to the slapping of his sandals get quieter the further he got. "I think you were about to make him cry, Abdul."

"If he were a man," Your guard spoke in his characteristic monotone. "He would have no need for tears."

"But if he were a child?"

"Maybe you should listen to your stick-in-the-ass guard!" A voice shouted from somewhere down below. Familiar and fond; eliciting a thousand racing sparks flickering across your skin. "I'd hate to see ya overthrown by some crooks just 'cause you're such a softy, y'know~!"

Immediately, as if were almost instinctive at this point to follow his voice, you threw yourself over the edge of the balcony. And there he was — the absolute demon of a man — standing perched on the roof of one of your lower palace buildings. Prince Gojo Satoru had a hand shielding his eyes from the sun — but even from all the way up here, you felt them against your skin — you felt the promise and the intensity and the love he always held in them.

You mirrored his wicked grin — although no where near its dazzling mischievousness.

"Well, you are on the wrong side of the River Jordan!" You yelled down to him. "This is a surprise. Surely a prince such as yourself would not notice a part of his concubine missing if I were to disappear, now would you?"

Satoru did not say anything in response to your tease. Instead, he dropped his hand and positioned them on the stones of your Palace walls. His shoulder muscles tensed and bunched when he lifted his body weight to climb — brick by brick, rock by rock, until his pale fingers curled around the lip of your balcony's edge.

He heaved himself up in one rush — so strong, so Satoru — until he could surge up and collide his lips with your surprised ones.

"Don't say shit like that." He rasped when you broke free, intending to greet him properly — but Satoru just placed a large hand to the back of your head and pulled you in, again.

His kiss was not punishing — but it was fuelled by something; a simmering emotion hiding behind the surface of his princely mask. You hummed into his mouth, accommodating him by twining your fingers into his soft hair, but you gasped when he tilted his head and deepened your kiss into one that was a lot more hot, a lot more needy and desperate.

You waved your guard away mindlessly when Satoru climbed over the balcony — still keeping your lips locked. He was like a bull on a one-track mission, a beast ready to devour you. He did not give you but a moment to breathe. He clawed at your short tufts of hair so he tilted your head back; delving his tongue deep and thick into your mouth.

You could not help the moan that tore up your throat at his relentless pursuit, feeling his hands roving down your broad back, the fabrics on your waist. When he reached around to grip your ass, you gasped, breaking his insistent kiss. Satoru was not deterred; he buried his face into the crook of your neck and suckled softly and your sensitive skin — grinding your bodies together.

"You—ah!" You gripped at his muscular shoulders for balance as he found your sweet spot just below your ear — and attacked with hungry need. "Your shoulders are tense, my love. Another... run in with your father? Or are you just aching to have me?"

The ferocious growl that rumbled through his chest was all the answer you needed. "Both." He heaved, resurfacing to look at you. And oh, how you would never get used to the beauty of him. Even when he was wearing a grumpy frown and had his eyebrows knit. He tilted his large body forward so as to touch your forehead with his. "Fuckin' geezer. Pisses me off."

You ran soothing paths up and down his bare arms, trying to work some of the tension out of his muscles. Some part of you knew what had upset him so — for it had been the same yesterday, and the day before. Now that Prince Gojo Satoru was approaching his third decade, the Sultan had become increasingly persistent on pushing his marriage date forward and finding a suitable partner for him. And you — even with your princely title — had not won his father's favour.

"It may not be so bad," You whispered quietly as you both shared breath. "I could still be part of your concubine. You would have me and make your father happy, still."

Satoru was still for a moment — those moonlight lashes so divine fanned across his cheeks. Then, he shook his head slowly. He leaned in to capture your lips in a sweet kiss — lingering, so he could whisper the words, "Nah. I want more than that. I wanna put a crown on your head."

His kisses resumed; but they were lighter and less pent up. They made you giggle. You backtracked until both of you stumbled into the cashmere curtains of your balcony doorway. It was then that you turned and intertwined his fingers in his, leading him down one of the expansive Palace hallways.

"Come, then," You whispered, letting all of your sinful intentions bleed into the honey of your voice. Satoru's cock gave a near-painful twitch at that look in your eyes — the type that could tempt an angel into corruption. "Let me take your mind off of it."

Situations that left the Gojo Satoru caught off guard were few and far-between. He was a spontaneous guy — usually, it was him that was doing the catching off guard and the situation making.

But as he tugged experimentally at the rope bound around his wrists and connected to a particularly heavy cabinet, he wondered when you had gotten so creative.

"What books have you been readin', hm?" He asked you coyly. From your perch straddling the man against his tight waist, you leaned forward, spreading your hands teasingly against his pectorals. They flexed underneath you touch, making you smirk.

"Oh, you know; princely readings. Summaries of monthly trades, correspondence from other cities... have you been tending to your large pile of paperwork, actually?"

Satoru hummed, knowing you were teasing him. He was just about to fire back something equally as cheeky when you bore down on him — rubbing your ass against his straining cock. The air caught in his throat and he groaned, pulling instinctively at his restraints. You had also looped a snake of golden rope around his legs in intricately woven knots — holding him securely down to the ground.

"Does that feel good?" You purred, feeling how your own cock ached for some friction of its own. But not yet — this was all about his needs for the moment and taking his mind only to you.

Satoru's teeth gleamed through his growl. "Fuck. I hope ya don't like this dresser too much," He gave another tug on his binds. "Might break the leg off of it if ya keep this up."

"Oh, but I have a better idea."

It was in that moment that you produced a slip of silk from around your pants — a little bit too long for what you had in mind, but thick and sturdy enough to do a good job at it.

You positioned the sliver in front of Satoru's mouth — motioning to what you were about to do. The predatory gleam in his eyes told you he understood all too well, but just to be sure, you whispered, "May I?"

In response, Satoru opened his mouth to clamp down on the silk gag, then settled back onto the cushion and let you do the rest. And with slow, precise movements, you carded the silk through his white hair and secured it at the back — leaning away to marvel at your handiwork; the Prince Gojo Satoru, bound and gagged at your mercy for you to tease.

You chuckled, circling a finger around one of his taut nipples. "I think I like you like this."

"You gon'th lich me enogh, ahreaghy?" He spoke around the gag and gave a particularly punishing thrust of his hips upwards that you almost collapsed onto him.

But it was almost time.

You braced against his chest to leave a sweet kiss against his flushed cheek. "I will be back in one moment, my love." Your whisper fluttered against his skin — and then, you had lifted up off of him and disappeared behind the screen which shielded you both.

Satoru voiced in the form of a guttural groan how he felt about being left like this when you decided to tend to something else. He adjusted his tongue so that it sat comfortably behind the gag, he shifted his hips upwards, rocking them in a rhythm to try relieve even a modicum of pressure that was building up in his cock. His stiff erection tented his silks; it created a small damp spot where his tip leaked — ready and wanting. He grunted, exhaling a hot plume of air. How much longer did you expect him to wait?

A soft creaking permeated the air as two large doors were pulled open — finally. He was going to fuck you until you didn't know your own name. After, of course, you rode his cock with him bound like this. He needed you so gods-damned bad that it hurt—

"Welcome, welcome, my wonderful guests!"

The blood froze cold in Satoru's veins.

That was your voice — and not just your voice, but your formal one. The one you perfected for hosting dinner parties or parrying with diplomats during important business affairs. Satoru strained to listen; and sure enough, there came the impending patters of a dozen or so footsteps flooding into the room.

"Thank you for having us." Shoko Ieiri; Village Doctor, said in her dulcet voice.

"It's rather beautiful." One of the famed Palace Diplomats; Nanami Kento.

"It could use a few stuffed animals, I think." Yaga Masamichi — head Royal Tutor — clicked his tongue.

The voices of others floated through the air afterwards; all of which Prince Satoru recognised. Agrabah was not a large city, and those in the upper echelon kept very close to those with Royal blood. Kiyotaka Ijichi; Utahime Iori; Gakuganji Yoshinobu; among others — they all congregated in the Palace room where he was bound and gagged. Satoru's blood fled into his face and neck. He turned his head, listening for even the slightest step towards his hidden corner.

What the hell were you thinking?!

But as the din of conversation sparked and he was huddled here, trying to keep quiet, the adrenaline in Gojo Satoru's veins took on a different form. There was something exhilarating about being caught like this; him, a Prince in waiting for the Throne, and here he was in his most exposed form. He could hear you gliding around the floor, engaging your guests in light, cordial conversation like you had not been grinding on top of him moments before. The thought of it all — he found the blood rushing back to the head of his cock; now twitching, begging to be touched.

His whole body felt hot. It took an exercise in strength to not let out loud, heady pants as his body worked itself up to its own fever pitch. He was held so tight — he needed you, he needed you to ride him right now while everyone else was oblivious outside of the hidden screen door.

Then, your voice rose over the crowd, "Please, do make yourselves comfortable. There shall be drinks and delicacies on the way. I have been called away momentarily, as all Princes are, but do not worry — I shall return soon."

A gentle chorus of affirmations followed your announcement. There was the soft whisper of sandals against polished stone floors until they came right outside the hidden screen door. You were suddenly there, stepping into the small corner, locking eyes with your lover who looked both very happy and very cross to see you.

"Oh, you poor thing. Have I been neglecting you?" You cooed softly, coming down to kneel beside him.

Satoru's entire body was raw and flushed — there was a fine glisten of sweat that made his heaving chest glow. Your mouth dried out at the sight of him. He rounded his frustrated blue eyes on you in a tempered glare.

"Wth ah you thnkn?" Satoru growled around his gag.

You gave him a sly little grin. And then reached over to palm his pulsing erection. Satoru stuttered, and then knocked his head back, a full body shiver racing through his bones.

"My, my," You whispered, dipping underneath the silks damp from his sweat and holding him in your grip. His skin burned, the swollen tip of him wept pearls of white. You gathered it up on your thumb and pulsed down the shaft — working him quick and feverously. "You're so hard, my love. Do you like the stakes when they're so high? Does it turn you on so?"

Satoru's body was bucking in time with your hand movements, his hips thrusting savagely. You absolutely could not help yourself when you bowed down to take his girth into your mouth. The moan you let out was low, strangled — Satoru was tugging on his restraints so hard that your dresser gave a massive whine.

You lapped at him with greed. Tongue dancing down his length and then around his tip, loving how the movement made Satoru raise his entire torso upwards; needing to feel more of your mouth, wanting to hit the back of your throat and have you swallow every last drop of him.

Your hand lashed out to keep him steady when he came; hard and hot and so much spilling down your throat. Satoru turned to bury his head into the pillow, biting down to stop him from screaming with the pleasure of it. You resurfaced, licking your shining lips and swallowing — savouring the taste of him.

You were both heaving hard and heavy when you leaned over to place a loving kiss to his mouth.

"We better clean up, my Prince," You whispered on his lips. "There are guests for us to attend to."

✎ . . . requested by lovely @princeasimdiya12

WRITING REQUESTS

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #gojo x reader smut #🎋 — writing requests #💓 — thump

[semisolidmind]

Uh oh someone is beginning to have a lil crush on peaches 👀 _ at least that what I think is happening could be wrong _ ، hope for there sake the monkeys does know but if they did how would they react to the?

(you're not wrong :) and i had a thought about a scenario where this crush becomes noticeable)

perhaps there's a sparring session at flower fruit mountain for all the demon royals in wukong's little circle (excluding reader, for obvious reasons). a normal occurrence; the monkey king needs to be sure of his allies' strength. so, wukong challenges each of his demon generals (and occasionally their guests) to a friendly spar. macaque watches from the shadows, rolling his eyes at his brother's need to prove himself superior.

the current opponent is princess iron fan, and she's throwing deadly gales all over the sizable training area in an attempt to hit her foe. the wind brushes the spectators; reader watches from the sidelines, alongside azure and a few other demon sovereigns. seeing as the lion demon was the only reliably friendly face in the crowd, reader sits next to him while her husband shows off his strength in battle.

they converse quietly. reader enjoys how cordial azure is in comparison to most other demon lords. he talks with her, not at her. he's never mistaken her for a servant and loudly demanded anything of her. he's always friendly, with both her and the civilians of flower fruit mountain. reader has come to see his presence as one of the only highlights of wukong's many war council meetings. unbeknownst to reader...azure feels the same about her, though in a much less platonic way.

as the two continue to chat, the last gale goes off course when princess iron fan is thrown to the gound, defeated. it hits the onlookers like a solid wall and many of the demons, not prepared for the full force of the oncoming wind, are blown backwards. azure and reader are among them, and, in an attempt to save reader from being blown away, azure grabs her and pulls her to his chest.

the two are thrown through the air. they hit the ground some feet away, skidding to a stop beneath a cospe of trees. azure, on his back and slightly dazed, holds reader close, arms around her and her head pressed to his sternum by one huge paw. once the demon has overcome his momentary daze, he finds himself staring at the woman in his grasp. reader, still cowering from the wind, her hair tussled, eyes closed and teary from the dust, the sunlight dappled across her face...

...azure only barely manages to stop the rumbling purr fighting its way out of his chest. she's so small, so soft pressed up against him. he can feel his face warming under his fur at their proximity.

once reader has realized where she is (atop her dear friend, practically straddling him, oh gods she hopes for both their sakes that wukong and macaque aren't looking), she apologizes profusely, hastily removing herself from his person and (laughably, because he's twice her size) attempts to help him up. he holds onto her proffered hand a bit longer than necessary (it's so small, his hand entirely encompasses hers) as she asks if he's alright. still a bit stunned, he breathlessly laughs. he should be asking her that, he breathes. she smiles at him in return.

the moment ends when macaque rushes up to them, quickly pulling reader from azure's grip to check her for injuries and fuss over her. the six-eared demon leads his wife away towards the water curtain cave, holding her hand and continuing to press her about any supposed harm. while reader waves away his concerns, azure catches the stormy look the dark-furred monkey throws back in his direction.

the lion demon feels a chill down his spine when the monkey king's voice rings out across the field—somehow both friendly terrifying— and asks him to spar next.

#bad end wukong #twice as bad au #lion's den au

[hamsterclaw]

Dragonfire

Lord Namjoon commands the dragon riders of Mount Halji, he's authoritative and respected, a fearless warrior, celebrated for his prowess on the battlefield. So why aren't you afraid of him, damnit?

Pairing: Namjoon x F! reader

Genre: Fantasy AU, smut, a spin-off from the Royal Pain AU

Rating: 18+

Word count: 7.3k

Warnings: Sex, Namjoon mounting everything in sight

Namjoon’s watching from across the room as she greets guests at the banquet. She’s striking, not only because she’s beautiful, with her dark hair and lovely eyes, but also because of her bearing. There’s pride in the way she holds up her head.

When it’s his turn to greet her, he bows, low, and kisses the hand she offers to him.

‘Good evening, your highness,’ he says. 

He can feel her eyes on him, his black armour, the mark on his hand signifying his status as a dragon rider.

‘Lord Namjoon,’ she murmurs. The way her tongue flicks over her full bottom lip, the spark in her eyes, makes his blood warm.

Then she’s letting go of his hand, stepping away gracefully to greet the next person, and Namjoon’s left with the faintest scent of lavender, tantalising and sweet.

When she reaches the end of the line, she looks straight at him, like she’d known he’d be watching.

She inclines her head just slightly, but it’s enough.

Blood hot, lust thrumming through his veins, Namjoon follows her out of the banquet hall.

***

Namjoon’s tired from his night with the beautiful and lusty princess of Ijil, and it takes him longer than it should to realise that his armour is missing.

Even worse, his sword is gone.

He storms out of his chambers, looking for Jimin and Taehyung. He’s heading for the stables when he sees you.

His first impression is of softness, which is ironic given you’re staggering under the weight of his armour. His sword swings from your hip, he doesn’t even know how you managed to attach it you.

‘Stop,’ he commands.

You glance around, looking for where his voice came from. 

Namjoon doesn’t know how you could possibly miss him. He’s always been tall, and of recent years, his build has filled out, a byproduct of wrangling Styx, his bonded dragon.

He still feels a thrill of pride when he thinks about her. Styx, with her midnight black scales, her wingspan wider than any others in her clan. She’s a magnificent beast, fiercely loyal, with the instincts of the finest warrior in battle. 

He snaps out of his reverie when he realises you’re limping away, dragging his armour with you.

‘Stop!’ he commands again. 

He catches up to you easily. ‘Where are you taking my armour and my sword?’ he demands.

‘Didn’t Jimin tell you? I’m your new squire,’ you tell him, like it’s a done deal.

Namjoon’s flabbergasted.

‘I’m a dragon rider, not one of those fanciful royal knights,’ he scowls. ‘I have no need for a squire.’

‘The dullness of your armour tells a different story,’ you have the audacity to say.

‘It’s black!’ protests Namjoon, not sure why he’s arguing with you but unable to stop himself.

‘You’re a disgrace to Styx,’ you mutter.

Namjoon realises he’s walked with you all the way to the stables.

Cursing, he lifts his armour off you, and you sigh, relieved.

‘It’s very heavy,’ you remark. ‘No wonder you’re so muscular.’

Namjoon stares at his sword, hung carelessly around your shoulder.

‘How are you supposed to be my squire if you can’t lift my armour and sword?’ he mutters, more to himself.

You’re already gesturing to a small area you have set up with a scrubbing brush and a bucket, a polishing cloth and a tin of oil.

‘Leave it with me,’ you say airily.

You frown at his sword. ‘Sweet mother of Jaesu, how old is this blood? It’s caked on.’

Namjoon scowls. ‘I’ll be back in an hour to collect it for a sparring session.’

You wave an arm at him, muttering something that sounds awfully like ‘Lord Jimin’s armour is pristine.’

Namjoon decides to pretend he hasn’t heard you.

***

When Namjoon returns, Taehyung’s leaning against the wall, chatting to you.

‘Did you know about our new squire?’ Namjoon asks.

‘I’m right here,’ you announce, bright, chirpy.

Namjoon ignores you.

‘She’s very good at mending clothes as well,’ Taehyung replies, smiling at you.

Namjoon’s forced to turn to you when you push his armour into his arms.

‘I only do mending for selected people,’ you say, haughty, like he’d shown any inclination to ask.

He’s about to snap a retort when the Princess of Ijil arrives.

Namjoon bows deeply.

You drop into a surprisingly graceful curtsy.

She eyes you.

Namjoon’s already stepping in front of you when you say, ‘I’m the squire to the dragon riders of Mount Halji, your highness.’

‘Charmed, I’m sure,’ she says, dismissive.

She turns back to Namjoon.

‘Do you have time for a quick catch up in my chambers before you set off back home?’ 

‘Of course,’ Namjoon replies, admiring the way her skin glows in the late morning sun.

She flicks her gaze over his shoulders, gaze meaningful.

‘I can help you mend that rip in the seam of your tunic,’ you say, helpfully, calling everyone’s attention to it. 

Namjoon narrows his eyes at you, then turns back to the princess.

She’s already walking away.

***

‘Oof,’ you remark, holding up Namjoon’s tunic. ‘What’s this stain?’

Namjoon’s gaze flies to you.

‘Just kidding,’ you say, chuckling gleefully. 

‘Are you ever quiet?’ Namjoon asks, exasperated. ‘Being a squire is a serious task.’

‘She’s a very good squire,’ Jimin says, emerging from the stables with their horses in tow.

‘Thanks, my lord,’ you say cheerfully.

‘You don’t call me my lord,’ Namjoon observes, tetchy.

‘I’ll call you it, if you can tell me my name,’ you say, smiling at him.

Namjoon realises he doesn’t know your name.

‘You didn’t tell me your name,’ he complains.

‘You didn’t ask,’ you shoot back, merrily.

‘Is everything a joke to you?’ snaps Namjoon.

‘Ignore our grumpy commander,’ Jimin says, giving Namjoon a quelling look. ‘He gets cranky when he’s tired.’

Jimin hands you the reins to your horse. ‘Need anything before we set off?’ he asks, offering you his knee to help you mount.

You shake your head, seating yourself. ‘Thank you,’ you tell him.

Namjoon mounts his steed and sets off, nudging his stallion into a brisk canter.

He doesn’t look back to check on you. 

***

The first hint of trouble is a rustling in the trees overhead.

Then, firebolts rain down.

Namjoon’s about to urge his steed into a gallop when your horse, spooked and less battle-worn than all the others, rears up.

You land in an ungraceful heap on the forest floor and immediately get up, dazed.

A firebolt grazes your foot, and you lift an arm up over your head in an attempt to protect yourself.

Taehyung and Jimin are up ahead, turning back to help, but Namjoon’s the closest to you. 

‘Get your horses away!’ shouts Namjoon. ‘It’s fire demons!’

He turns his steed, Thunder, and speeds towards you.

You watch him approach with wide eyes.

Namjoon reaches down and plucks you off the ground.

You land, hard, on the front of his saddle, face planted in the breastplate of his armour. 

‘Hold on,’ grunts Namjoon. He leads Thunder towards a clearing he noticed earlier, to another route that will take you both to the edge of the forest, away from the fire demons.

For once, you appear to have no snappy remark at the ready. 

You wind your arms around his waist, holding on tight, and Namjoon’s stomach flips unexpectedly when you press your face into his chest.

He leans forward on Thunder, urging him on, you soft and pliant between his thighs, and gets you both the hell out of there.

***

It’s late afternoon, the sun filtering through the trees, and you’ve yet to catch up to Taehyung and Jimin.

Namjoon stops by a brook to allow Thunder to drink and dismounts.

He lifts his arms to help you down.

You place your hands on his shoulders trustingly, and Namjoon’s stomach does another curious flip.

He wonders if he drank too much arabica before leaving Ijil.

You stay for a moment like that, pressed against him, arms up, face tilted to his.

‘Thanks for saving me,’ you say. 

‘You’re one of mine,’ Namjoon says. He doesn’t think he’s saying anything but the truth, but you look pleased about it just the same.

He looks around. ‘It’ll be dark soon. We should set up camp around here.’

***

Namjoon lets out a sigh.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asks, barely concealed impatience in his voice.

‘It’s cold,’ you complain, even though he can barely see you under the mound of blankets you’ve stolen, including his own.

Namjoon rolls his eyes. ‘Live with it,’ he says, unsympathetic.

‘They say body heat is good,’ you suggest.

Namjoon scoffs. ‘Is that an attempt to get into bed with me?’

You’re quiet, he almost thinks you’ve fallen asleep when you say, ‘we’re not technically in beds.’

Namjoon thinks it’s dark enough that he doesn’t have to hide his smile. 

‘Come here then,’ he says, gruffly.

‘No thanks,’ you say rudely.

Namjoon reaches over and yanks you into his arms, blankets and all.

‘Just shut up and sleep,’ he advises, when you open your mouth.

Your mouth closes and you nod.

You’re asleep in seconds. 

***

When he wakes, too hot, you’re already up. For some reason you’ve wrapped him in blankets, even though he runs hot all the time, a byproduct of his bond with Styx.

Namjoon fights his way out of the blankets and rises, stretching and yawning, rolling the stiffness out of his muscles.

Footsteps make him straighten up and turn around.

You’re bright and freshfaced, holding out a mug to him. 

‘Made you arabica,’ you chirrup.

‘Thanks,’ he grunts, accepting.

Your eyes fall to his bare forearm. 

‘You’re burned!’ you say, sounding genuinely worried.

‘It’s nothing,’ Namjoon says, amused by your concern over the tiny burn. You should see the scar on his side from the last dragon battle.

You’re rustling through the leather bag you carry near your hip.

‘Let me put some salve on it,’ you say.

Namjoon sits and drinks his arabica whilst you fuss over his arm.

‘You’re aware I’m a dragon rider,’ he can’t resist teasing you, but he lets you rub salve into his arm anyway.

He can’t deny it feels soothing. 

He realises you’re looking at the dragon rider mark on his hand.

‘Pretty,’ you say. Your thumb rubs over it, a quick smooth swipe, and then your hands leave his skin.

Namjoon doesn’t think anyone’s ever called him pretty before.

Big, yes. Tall, certainly. Ruthless. 

Not pretty.

To hide his discomfiture, he stands. ‘We should get going,’ he says, brisk.

You’re already heading to Thunder. 

You stop in front of his enormous steed and look to him for a leg up, as though you’re expecting him to kneel before you like Jimin did.

Namjoon mounts Thunder, then holds out his arms for you.

You reach up, trusting like you were yesterday, and Namjoon’s stomach flips again. 

It’s definitely the arabica, he tells himself as Thunder falls into an easy canter.

***

Namjoon says, grumpily, ‘stop wriggling.’

‘It’s just, the hilt of your sword keeps poking me,’ you complain, wriggling more, another smooth movement that makes him grit his teeth.

You look back at him just in time to catch him clenching his jaw.

‘It’s not my sword,’ Namjoon growls.

Your hand on his thigh makes his muscles jump.

‘Something in your breeches —-‘ you trail off abruptly.

‘It’s just the friction,’ Namjoon says, as your whole body stiffens between his legs, against his chest.

You don’t say a word.

‘You’re my squire. I don’t think of you lustfully,’ Namjoon continues.

You’re still silent, ramrod straight against him.

‘I prefer women who are —-‘

‘Beautiful and curvaceous,’ you fill in for him, describing the princess of Ijil.

‘Less annoying,’ finishes Namjoon.

You suggest, ‘I can ride behind you, if my ass is too tempting.’

Namjoon snorts a laugh. ‘And press those pretty breasts into my back?’

You look down at your chest thoughtfully.

Then you quip, barely stifling your laughter, ‘want me to polish your sword, my lord?’

‘Silence, wench,’ growls Namjoon.

Your laughter is equal parts infuriating and infectious.

***

You both catch up to Taehyung and Jimin at the gates guarding the dragon rider enclave on Mount Halji.

Namjoon takes a moment to savour the familiarity of it. He was born to be a dragon rider, the latest progeny of a long line of Eosulian warriors. 

He was fourteen when he bonded with Styx, a lanky, graceless teenager with no idea what the hell he was doing. There was more than one surprised reaction at the unlikely combination of the studious teenaged Namjoon and the most fearsome dragon in the clan.

It’s been a while since anyone’s looked at him and Styx with any incredulity.

These days, Namjoon leans into his powerful build, his broad shoulders and chest, the lean muscles of his thighs. 

Underneath he’s never stopped studying, learning, trying to better himself.

You nudge his chest with your shoulder, and he realises you’re talking.

He’s quite pleased with how he’s managed to tune you out.

You’re much more easy to tolerate when you’re on mute.

Namjoon allows himself a moment to admire your piquant little face.

He’s almost smiling when your voice manages to break through. 

‘Plain?’ you ask.

Namjoon frowns, and obligingly, you repeat yourself. ‘Heading to the plain?’

He nods. He’d automatically guided Thunder in the direction of the plain, where he knows Styx will be waiting for him.

Namjoon stops and dismounts, instinctively reaching up to help you down. 

It’s funny how he’s got used to doing that so quickly.

He faces North, and within moments, there’s a change in the air.

Styx lands noiselessly before him, sleek and so beautiful his skin thrums at her proximity.

Namjoon bows, and her massive head dips low to the ground in response. In two steps he’s mounted her, feeling at home in the way he never did in the vast Royal Palace of Ijil.

Something makes him look towards you.

You’re watching him and Styx, unmoving, hands clasped.

Namjoon doesn’t realise what he’s going to say until the words leave his mouth. He’s never invited anyone else to ride with him on one of these journeys before.

‘We’re reacquainting for the bond,’ he tells you. ‘You can come, if you want.’

He can sense Styx’s assent, but she lowers her head again, as if to show you, too.

You approach tentatively. 

Namjoon holds out his arms to pick you up, and you say, ‘wait. Would you prefer tits or ass?’

Namjoon, to his surprise, can sense Styx’s mirth.

‘Just get on, and be quiet,’ he grumbles. He lifts you in front of him, locks his thighs around yours and pulls you tight against his chest, and then you’re off, gliding through the mountains of South Eosul.

***

Namjoon looks up as you enter the courtyard where he and the other dragon riders are combat training.

You march past everyone and head straight for him.

‘I need your muscles,’ you announce, without context.

Namjoon mops sweat off his brow and waits.

‘I’ll help you,’ Taehyung volunteers. 

Namjoon stops him with a look. 

‘What do you need help with, squire? And why is it so important that you’re interrupting our training?’ 

You frown. ‘The merchant down by the market is a swindler and a scoundrel,’ you tell him.

‘A swindler, and a scoundrel,’ Namjoon teases, amused by your vehemence.

You stare at him. He can almost see the smoke coming out of your ears, the way you’re vibrating with rage.

‘Fine!’ you burst out. You stomp away. ‘I will take care of him myself.’

You’re walking so fast you’re most of the way to the market before Namjoon catches up with you, even with his longer stride.

‘I’m sorry I teased you,’ he tells you.

‘I’m sorry I interrupted combat practice,’ you reply immediately.

You sigh. ‘I needed cloth for your jackets for the Harvest banquet next month. This merchant’s got the best supplies, but all the cloth he’s delivered is less than what we bargained for. Less than what I paid for.’

You’re getting worked up again, indignant. ‘How dare he try to swindle us?!’

Namjoon falls into step beside you. ‘It could be a genuine mistake,’ he says, trying to be reasonable.

You snort in disbelief.

Namjoon accompanies you to the stall, a little worried about how you’re going to approach this.

The merchant bows as you both approach. 

‘Can I interest you in the new silk taffeta I’ve imported from Seldinia?’

‘No, but you can interest me in the remainder of the order I put in last week, of which only half has been delivered,’ you say, firmly.

The merchant eyes you narrowly. ‘Which order is that? I’m afraid I’ve completed all the orders from last week.’

You’re apoplectic. ‘Surely you have a ledger!’

You step around the table displaying his wares as he sighs and opens a worn ledger.

‘There!’ you say triumphantly, pointing to an entry that takes up half a page.

The merchant elbows you away from the ledger, making you step back. 

Namjoon’s not sure how it happens, all he knows is one second he’s watching you and the next he’s got his forearm to the merchant’s neck, holding him up against the pillar.

The merchant’s looking at his dragon rider mark, spilling apologies.

Namjoon takes a moment, letting the rage recede. 

You’re unharmed, you hadn’t even flinched when the merchant pushed you.

So why is he so goddamn incensed that that asshole had the audacity to touch you?

You can hold your own.

So why does Namjoon want to grind this man to a pulp?

He grunts, lets the man down, and he scuttles to do your bidding.

You wait until you’re both walking away, cloth tucked in a basket over your arm, before you turn to him.

‘What?’ snaps Namjoon.

You put your hand on his arm. ‘Thanks for ——‘

You pause, searching for the right phrase. 

Namjoon lifts the basket off your arm.

‘Thanks for helping,’ you say carefully.

You seem to not know what to do with your arms now that he’s taken the basket, so you clasp your hands demurely in front of your chest. 

‘No problem,’ Namjoon replies. 

You keep sneaking glances at him as you walk, until Namjoon sighs. 

‘What?’ 

‘You look quite dashing when you’re angry,’ you tell him.

‘Is that why you’re always vexing me?’

You nod. ‘That jaw clench you do.’

Namjoon glowers at you. 

‘You’re doing it right now!’ you point out, delighted, skipping alongside him.

Namjoon says, ‘Quiet, or I’ll make you carry this,’ nodding to your basket.

‘Pfft,’ you scoff. ‘It’s nothing.’

You give him a sideways look. ‘Especially after I’ve got used to carrying your sword .’

You waggle your eyebrows meaningfully and nudge him between the ribs, like he wouldn’t get the innuendo otherwise.

Namjoon turns away so you can’t see him biting back his smile.

***

Namjoon answers the knock at his chamber door with a brisk, ‘come in.’

You take two steps into his chamber, eyes fixed on his chest. 

‘My lord,’ you say, bowing. ‘You look very well indeed. That material suits you.’

Namjoon finds he’s distracted by your own appearance.

Has your body always been this lovely shape? And surely you’ve done something to your hair, too. 

‘My eyes are here, my lord,’ you say, but you sound more amused than vexed.

‘You look beautiful,’ he tells you.

‘Thank you. Did you call me in here to seduce me with your sweet words and broad chest?’ 

Namjoon rolls his eyes.

‘I have something for you.’

You look suspiciously at the black bangle in his outstretched palm.

Namjoon says, ‘hold out your wrist.’

You hold out your hand, palm up, and Namjoon fastens the slim black band around your wrist, securing it with a tiny key.

You lift your arm, admiring the way the onyx gleams in the light as Namjoon threads the key along the silver chain he always wears around his neck.

When you speak, there’s a softness in your voice Namjoon’s only heard a handful of times.

‘What’s this for, my lord?’

‘The merchant at the marketplace,’ says Namjoon. ‘He changed his tune when he realised I was a dragon rider.’

He shrugs. ‘You don’t have a dragon rider mark, but I want people who deal with you to know that you have our protection.’

You’re standing so close to him he can feel the warmth of you, smell the fresh scent of your hair.

You look up at him, and he braces for whatever smart retort you’ve thought of.

Instead, you say, very sweetly, ‘thank you, my lord, that’s very thoughtful of you.’

Namjoon opens his mouth to speak, but you’re already speaking again.

‘Thank you for my shackle.’

Namjoon stares at you, speechless.

‘Shackle?’ he splutters, incredulous.

‘It goes round my wrist, it fastens with a key that you wear around your neck. It’s a shackle,’ you say, nodding.

Namjoon glares at you.

‘Aaaaa there’s that sexy jaw tick,’ you say, beaming at him.

Namjoon sets his jaw and ushers you out of his chamber.

‘Ooh, you look like you’re about to turn me over your lap and paddle my bottom,’ you say, chuckling merrily.

‘Maybe I will one day,’ Namjoon threatens.

‘I’ll look forward to it,’ you say, looking positively thrilled at the prospect.

Namjoon slams his door in your really rather pretty face.

****

Namjoon’s near the end of his speech to open the Harvest Banquet when the doors to the Great Hall open.

‘The Princess of Ijil,’ announces the herald.

Namjoon remains standing as she crosses the room, beautiful and resplendent in a gold gown that matches the brocade embroidery of his jacket.

She raises a hand, and Namjoon automatically leans down to kiss it.

She smiles at him, skin burnished gold in the candlelight, eyes full of promise, and Namjoon feels that familiar heat pool low in his groin.

She takes the seat next to his like she belongs there, and on any other day, Namjoon would be proud and honoured to have her by his side.

Today, though, his attention is divided by you, sitting in between Jimin and another dragon rider, Mingyu.

You’re chatting to them merrily, more than a little tipsy, judging by your bright eyes and the way you’re letting Mingyu lean against you.

Namjoon doesn’t realise he’s glowering at you until the Princess says, coyly, ‘I’ve come all this way, and you haven’t so much as complimented my gown, Lord Namjoon.’

He turns reluctantly from you. ‘How remiss of me,’ he says, politely. ‘You are very beautiful, as always, your highness, and we are privileged to have you in our midst.’

A burst of laughter and a round of applause erupts from your end of the table as Jimin leaps up, gracefully, to catch a tray of mead on the verge of tipping over.

Namjoon watches as Jimin deposits the tray safely on the banquet table and twirls you around triumphantly.

Jimin is his second in command, and has saved Namjoon’s ass more times than he can count. He’s a gifted fighter, instinctive and merciless when he has to be. 

It’s also vaguely annoying that he has the face of an angel and a physique sculpted by the gods. 

Namjoon tears his eyes away from you in Jimin’s arms.

He turns back to the princess.

***

Namjoon’s heading to his chamber after dinner, wondering where you are and why he cares. 

If you’re with Jimin, you’re in safe hands. 

Jimin likes you more than he does.

Namjoon stops in front of the looking-glass by his bed, staring at his reflection. 

Does Jimin like you more than he does?

He slips his jacket off, starts unbuttoning the white silk shirt underneath. 

There’s a knock on his door. 

Namjoon cracks it open, an odd burst of warmth blooming in his chest when he realises it’s you. 

You hiccup and reach out, curling your fingers into the open placket of his shirt.

The tips of your fingers are cold, and Namjoon realises just how much he wants to warm you up.

He’s reaching for your arm to pull you into his chamber when you both hear approaching footsteps, an entourage.

The Princess of Ijil.

Namjoon’s distracted for an instant, and when he looks back at you, you’re giving him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

His hand closes around nothing.

The Princess of Ijil reaches his chamber door.

And you?

You’re gone.

***

Namjoon has to admit, you’re quick.

By the time he’s made his excuses to the princess and tried to follow you, there’s not a trace of where you might have gone.

It’s only when he passes the stables and hears Thunder whickering and stamping his feet that he finds you, sitting on a groomsman’s stool in a corner of Thunder’s stall.

You give Thunder an accusing look that makes Namjoon bite back his smile.

Namjoon looks at you, at the petulant way your lower lip is pushed out, the bottle of potent mead in your hand, and says, gently, ‘want to go for a ride?’

Before you can come up with whatever terrible innuendo he knows you’re capable of, he’s saddled and mounted Thunder, and is holding out his arms for you.

You give him a curious look but it doesn’t stop you from letting him lift you up into the saddle in front of him.

You settle back into his arms, between his thighs, against his chest, like you belong there. 

Namjoon leans forward, urging Thunder into a gallop. 

The cool night air is like a balm on his brow, and for the first time Namjoon decides to let himself enjoy how you feel in his arms.

He thinks you’re trying to say something to him, but it’s lost in the wind as the fields of Mount Halji speed past.

He’ll ask you later.

***

Namjoon beds Thunder down in the small barn and heads to the tiny farmhouse.

He finds you standing by the door where he left you, waiting for him.

He lights a lamp, holds his arm out to you. 

You say, ‘wait.’

You set the mead down on the wooden table and step up to him, hand on his chest, going on tiptoe.

Namjoon stays perfectly still as you press your lips to his.

It’s sweet, chaste, and yet it makes him want to push you against a wall and take you right here.

You pull away. 

‘Just wanted to check if you’re a good kisser,’ you say, breathlessly.

Namjoon raises an eyebrow at you, tilts his chin. 

‘Am I?’ he asks, like he doesn’t care what you think.

‘Yeah,’ you say. 

‘I’m good at a lot of things,’ he tells you.

‘Stop showing off,’ you chastise. 

You squeal as he chases you into the bedroom.

***

Namjoon’s trying to take it slowly but you’re writhing under him, rubbing against him in all the places that he likes, and god, he’s so hard he can’t imagine there’s any blood going to the rest of his body. 

He can’t think . 

You’re kissing his neck, tongue flicking against his skin, and Namjoon groans at the pleasure of it. 

‘I didn’t know you were so sensitive, here,’ you note, a purr to your voice that makes his eyes close. 

You grind your hips against his, arms splayed around him. 

Namjoon’s got no idea how you managed to get on top of him but Jaesu, he loves the view. He already knows he’ll never get tired of taking the weight of you. 

Namjoon raises his head, trying to kiss you as you’re pulling away, and you press your hand to his lips. 

‘Look at you, my big dragon rider,’ you taunt. You roll your hips against his cock, still covered in the dress pants he put on for the Banquet, pulling another grunt from him. 

‘You like being under me?’ you ask. 

‘I’d rather be in you,’ Namjoon tells you, honestly. 

He runs a hand down his torso, cups his length. ‘Get these off and I’ll show you.’ 

Your eyes meet, and the heat in his gaze makes you visibly shiver. 

Then you’re undoing his pants. 

Namjoon lifts his hips to help you slide them down. 

His cock brushes your parted lips, and quick as a cat, you open your mouth and take him in. 

Namjoon’s fist clenches in the silk of your dress as you take him deeper, tongue flat against the underside of his cock. 

‘You unman me,’ he utters. 

You look up at him, mouth full, eyes wide, and he groans at the sight of you. 

‘Do you like this?’ you ask, pulling back, lips swollen, stained with the stickiness of his seed. 

Namjoon reaches down to cup your cheek. ‘I want you on top of me, love,’ he tells you. 

He never knows if you’re going to do what he says, but to his relief, you wriggle up to sit on his chest. 

He reaches out, undoes the ties fastening your gown carelessly, enjoying the way it falls open under his hands. 

He tugs it up over your head, leaving you in a chemise so gossamer thin he can see the outlines of your pretty breasts, your hardened nipples imprinted against the fabric. 

Past the length of your torso he can see between your legs, and, he realises he can feel the dampness of your arousal on his own stomach. 

You’ve wetted through his shirt, and Namjoon doesn’t think he’s ever been more aroused. 

Your mouth opens, and Namjoon shakes his head. 

‘Look what you’ve done,’ he tsks, his voice husky, low. 

You open your mouth again, and again, he shakes his head. 

‘You and your smart mouth,’ he says. ‘You’re so wet you’ve ruined my shirt, and I’m so hard I hurt.’ 

He hisses as you roll your hips over him. ‘What are you going to do about it, my love?’ 

You’re moaning at him, and he laughs harshly. ‘You want my cock? Do it yourself.’ 

‘Or do you just like talking with that smart mouth,’ he taunts. ‘Can’t follow through?’ 

Your eyes flash at him, and then you’re bracing against his chest, taking him in hand, lining him up. 

Your eyes flick to his, and Namjoon stares you down. ‘Shy?’ he asks, voice mocking. 

‘No,’ you gasp, as you lower your hips onto his pelvis, taking him in increments. 

Your hand tightens on his arm. ‘Too big,’ you murmur, breathless. 

Namjoon has to take a breath when he’s in all the way. You’re wet, and warm, and he can already feel his pleasure starting to coil out from his shaft, sending tingles across his groin, making his balls tighten. 

You’re moving on him, thighs flexing as you ride him. Namjoon has the loose thought that the definition in your thighs is probably from carrying his armour around for months, because he’s never seen you do any other form of exercise, then you’re leaning forward on his chest, murmuring in his ear, and his thoughts evacuate his head again. 

Fuck, you’re beautiful when you come. 

You cry his name, and Namjoon cups your ass, helping you move on top of him, wringing every last bit of pleasure out of you until you’re limp on top of him. 

He waits, hard and throbbing inside you, until you look up at his face. 

‘Did you think we were finished?’ he asks. 

There’s a spark of something in your eyes at his challenge. 

‘I did, actually,’ you say haughtily. 

You make as if to move off of him, and as always, Namjoon’s amused and outraged by your audacity. 

He grips your thigh, admiring the mark his fingers leave when he lets go. 

You’re watching him carefully. 

‘Should have known you’d like that,’ you remark. 

‘You know,’ Namjoon says thoughtfully, pulling you underneath him, thrusting once, experimentally. 

You wait for what he has to say. 

‘I like you better when you’re not talking,’ he says. 

Your squawk of outrage turns into a moan as he starts to move, his cock sliding in your slickened cunt. 

‘Yeah,’ he says, as you moan. ‘This is better.’ 

He seals his lips against your own and fucks you until you’re crying out and coming on his cock. 

***

Namjoon’s awakened by a pounding on the door. 

He stumbles to the entrance of the tiny farmhouse and is greeted by Jimin, dressed in full battle gear, thrusting his armour at him. 

‘Halians,’ Jimin says grimly. ‘They’re en route to the Hold.’ He pauses, meaningfully. ‘The Princess of Ijil is still within our Gates.’ 

Namjoon’s pulling on his armour, methodical. ‘The dragons?’ he asks. 

‘They’re all in formation,’ Jimin says.

He looks up as you walk into the room, dressed in Namjoon’s shirt from last night. 

‘Ah,’ says Jimin, unsurprised. ‘Tell me later if I need to defend your honour to your brother.’ 

You laugh. ‘Seokjin can’t talk,’ you say, and Jimin grins. 

‘Don’t I know it,’ he agrees. 

Namjoon doesn’t have time to unpick this conversation right now. 

He tightens his sword and says to Jimin, ‘Let’s go.’ 

‘Wait,’ you say. 

You step forward and pull him down into a kiss. 

‘Stay safe,’ you say. 

Namjoon casts a look at your pretty face, wishing he had the time to appreciate how good you look in his shirt. 

You’re already stepping back. 

‘Look after him, Jimin,’ you say. 

Jimin nods. ‘I always do.’ 

The laugh you both share at his expense makes Namjoon scowl. 

***

Jimin grew up with Namjoon, and he’s been analytical, an overthinker, for as long as he’s known him.

Namjoon was the friend who always used to get caught when they played dragons and wizards, the kid who was busy trying to strategise when what he needed to do was run.

He made up for it by becoming quicker, stronger than anyone else. So then he didn’t just win at games, he annihilated his opponents.

He’s fought alongside Namjoon in countless battles against the Halian army, and there’s no doubt that Namjoon’s brilliant strategising has saved their asses many a time. 

It’s just that, Namjoon’s so damned serious all the time. He wears his responsibility as commander on his shoulders, bears the weight without complaint. 

When he started sleeping with the Princess of Ijil, Jimin had realised he was in real danger of losing his friend to a life of power seeking and political manoeuvring. 

That’s where you came in.

Jimin’s known you for years, he’s friends with Seokjin, your brother who’s currently making a name for himself in the vast plains of Daljeon.

He’s always liked your sense of humour. Like Seokjin, you cloak your inner steeliness in jovial banter. Also like Seokjin, you’ve been blessed with a face as pretty as Jimin’s own. 

You’d been at a loose end when Seokjin left, and Jimin had quickly realised that your personality was the perfect foil for Namjoon’s seriousness.

He’d watched in amusement as you ran circles around Namjoon with your quick wit, and had relaxed after he’d seen the way Namjoon had consistently chosen to laugh with you rather than flatten you. 

Today, though, Namjoon’s not laughing.

They’d returned from a skirmish with a Halian sub unit at the border of Eosul to find the farm cottage empty. 

A search of the Hold has so far, not revealed your location.

Namjoon looks up as the doors of the Great Hall open and a messenger comes in carrying a package.

Namjoon tears it open and stops dead as pieces of onyx fall out.

He looks at Jimin, jaw set. ‘It’s hers. I gave it to her the night of the Banquet.’

Jimin’s already grasped the messenger. ‘Where is she?’ he demands.

‘It’s from General Dei of the Halian army,’ splutters the messenger. ‘That’s all I know.’

Namjoon moves so quickly the messenger’s against the flagstone wall before he finishes his sentence.

‘Tell me where she is and I’ll spare your life,’ he utters, voice low and deadly.

One move of Namjoon’s hand toward the hilt of his sword yields the information they need.

Then Namjoon’s running, heading for Styx on the plain.

***

Namjoon glances over at Jimin as they approach the caves where you’re being held. 

‘I’m worried, Jimin,’ he confesses. 

Jimin places his hand on Namjoon’s shoulder, drawn taut with worry. 

‘She’s the only bargaining item they have, even the Halians wouldn’t be stupid enough to harm her knowing you’re on your way.’ 

Namjoon’s gaze is dark. ‘I’m more worried about what this is going to cost them,’ he tells Jimin. ‘I’m angry.’ 

His fists clench. ‘I’m really fucking angry right now.’ 

Jimin says, carefully, ‘This isn’t a reason to start a war.’ 

Namjoon laughs, short, humourless. ‘I don’t want a war,’ he agrees. 

He sets his jaw as they reach the entrance. ‘I want a massacre.’ 

You’re against the back wall of the cave, flanked by Halian guards. 

General Dei’s standing by. ‘Lord Namjoon,’ he says, inclining his head in greeting. 

Namjoon, imposing in his battle armour, gives the General a look that has the guards behind him shifting nervously. 

‘I know you wanted a negotiation, General,’ Namjoon says, ‘but I don’t negotiate when one of my own hangs in the balance.’ 

He draws his sword. ‘Release my squire.’ 

***

In the clamour of battle, Namjoon has a direct line of sight to you, and sees the moment you flatten yourself against the wall to avoid a wayward strike. 

He’s by your side in moments, cutting you loose, pushing you behind him. 

‘It took you a while,’ you point out. He can’t see your face but he can hear the smile in your voice. 

‘I’m sorry I left you,’ he says, tucking you under his arm, cutting down two Halian guards in a swift movement. 

He heads for the entrance of the cave, where Styx is waiting to dispense with any Halian guards who manage to get past Taehyung and Mingyu. 

Jimin emerges a moment later, sheathing his sword, breathing hard from exertion.

He draws you into his arms, raises an eyebrow when Namjoon doesn’t let go of his hold on you.

‘I’m taking her back to the Hold,’ Namjoon says.

Jimin murmurs, ‘and the rest?’

Namjoon helps you onto Styx, jaw tightening as he takes in the rope marks around your wrists and ankles. 

He can find no mercy in his heart for anyone who’s tried to hurt you. 

Honestly, he can’t even trouble himself to look.

He turns to Jimin. 

‘Let them burn.’ 

***

You awaken so quietly Namjoon’s got no idea how long you’ve been watching him sit by the window.

You clear your throat. 

‘You’re beautiful,’ you say, the words heartfelt.

Namjoon looks at you, at your skin coloured in the hues of the rising sun, at the sincerity shining in your eyes, and thinks that you’re the beautiful one.

He comes to sit on the bed next to you.

You clamber into his lap, face close to his, legs either side of his waist.

‘Thank you for coming to get me,’ you say.

‘I’m sorry I let you get taken in the first place,’ he replies. ‘Did you get hurt, my love?’

He’s looking at the mark on your wrist, where your bangle was.

You catch the direction of his gaze.

‘It didn’t hurt apart from that I didn’t have anything to show I belonged to you,’ you tell him.

Namjoon lifts your wrist to his lips, kisses over the bruise marking your skin.

‘I can take care of that,’ he says.

He moves his mouth further up your arm, sucks your warm skin, laves the new mark he’s left with his tongue.

You’re breathing faster now, watching him intently.

Namjoon tugs the shirt he put on you apart, presses his lips to the warm curve of your left breast, and sucks.

You make a pretty sound, and he does it again, suctions his lips over your softness, admires the lurid colour of the mark he’s made.

You’re shifting your hips slightly, moving over his thigh.

Namjoon flexes his thigh between your legs, and you whimper.

He dips his head again, this time to your other breast, coaxing your nipple out from under his shirt. He licks over your nipple, and to his pleasure, you let out another pretty moan.

You’re still moving your hips over his thigh, more boldly now, grinding harder with each pass.

Namjoon keeps up a steady pace laving your nipples with his tongue. He takes your breast into his mouth, lifts a hand to tweak your other nipple, and you gasp.

He can feel your wetness on his thigh.

His free hand lands on your thigh.

‘Ride me,’ he utters.

‘Namjoon,’ you gasp.

Namjoon can tell by the raggedness of your breathing that you’re close to your release.

He flexes his thigh again, helps you drag your hips along, laps at your nipples, and with a cry of his name you come.

Namjoon pulls you onto the bed, slides his hand onto your bare hip under his shirt and admires the view.

Your breasts look so pretty covered in the marks his lips have made, nipples taut and slick with his saliva.

There’s wet between your thighs, your cunt glistens with your release, and Namjoon’s never seen anything prettier.

His cock, already hard and aching, swells even more as you pull him down to you.

‘I want you, Namjoon,’ you plead.

‘You have me,’ he replies.

He settles himself between your spread legs and pushes into you.

Your back arches as he slides in, slow, giving you time to adjust.

He can feel your hands on his back, one near his shoulder blade, one low on his hips, urging him on, and Namjoon doesn’t want to hold back anymore.

He sheathes the rest of his manhood within you with another push of his hips, groaning at the pleasure of it.

He can feel the walls of your cunt fluttering around his hardness, the rush of slickness from you coating him.

You’re so wet, so warm Namjoon finds himself without words.

He starts to move, and you cry his name so loudly he stops, worried he’s hurt you.

‘Don’t stop,’ you reassure him, teeth on his earlobe. ‘Jaesu, don’t stop.’

Namjoon drags his cock from you and enters you again and again, going deep with every thrust, hard the way you seem to like.

He rolls his thumb over the swollen bud between your legs, and you buck your hips against his, chasing your pleasure.

You’re tightening deliciously around him now, clamping down on him like a vice, and Namjoon’s close himself, leaking into you with every thrust.

He strokes between your legs, dips his head to lap at your nipple, and then you’re coming again, gasping his name.

Your pleasure drags him over his own edge, Namjoon manages another thrust before he’s coming, spilling his seed into you with an intensity that robs him of his breath.

You’re pulling him down onto you now, arms around him. Namjoon has just enough awareness to move slightly so you’re not taking his full weight as he collapses onto the bed, tangled up with you.

***

When he stirs, you’re up already, but thankfully not any more dressed than you were.

You’re looking at him in the looking glass by his bed.

‘I like these marks you made on me,’ you announce, nonchalant.

‘I’ll make more,’ Namjoon says. 

He rises from the bed, drops to his knee before you.

‘On my legs?’ you ask, looking down at him quizzically.

‘If you want.’

Namjoon reaches for your hand, looks up at your face seriously. 

‘I vow fealty to you, in this kingdom and beyond,’ he promises you. ‘I will protect you to my last breath.’

‘Well,’ you drawl, with the familiar quirk to your lips he’s grown to love, ‘we’d better make sure you live a very long life then.’

©hamsterclaw 2023

#namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon fanfic #bts smut

[assortedseaglass]

Borne & Bound - I

Aemond Targaryen x OFC

[Masterlist]

Summary: When Prince Aemond insults the commander of the Braedel cavalry, Viserys sends him to their kingdom so that he may learn the art of diplomacy and do battle with the commander herself, the spirited Lady Geowyth.

Content Warnings: Strong Language, Violence, Smut, Canon-typical Sexism, Mentions of Incest¸ Mentions of Sexual Assault

Word Count: 2.6K

Note: Just a little intro chapter. This is completely canon divergent. I am rubbish at intricate plotting and relatively new to this fandom. This idea has been rummaging around for a good while in my head, and it’s time to put it into action. If you do want an amazingly plotted, political Aemond Targaryen story, please please please read You Were Always With Me by @myfandomprompts. I was on tenterhooks for every upload, it’s a masterfully crafted story with complex character analysis and so many tense and thrilling moments. I adored it!

I think many people have done this, but I’ve aged up the Targaryen children to their mid-twenties.

“Pay attention,”

“It’s too fucking hot,”

“Be quiet!”

Casting his eye over his sister’s head, Aemond watched his mother and brother hiss lowly to each other. The afternoon was hot. Oppressively so. The clock tower above the sept chimed, marking an hour since they had appeared on the barbican steps, and an hour of passive bickering. A mustard butterfly flew across his face, and he looked down to see Helaena’s mournful gaze follow it. She smiled at him half-heartedly and turned back to the crowded steps as Ser Harrold’s voice carried over them.

“Lord Jason, of House Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock and Ward of the West.”

In a sweep of embroidered velvet, Ser Tyland moved from his sentinel behind the royal family to greet his twin and the other members of his house.

“Lord Borros, of House Baratheon, Lord of Storms End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands.”

The list of houses was endless. Despite the Targaryen proclivity for heat, even Aemond could feel a trickle of sweat journey its way along his spine. Thunder rumbled around the walls of the barbican and the gathered crowd stirred. Aemond cast his eye upwards, and the clear sky stared back.

“It won’t rain,” came Helaena’s soft voice beside him. Still Aemond watched the sky. “They would let us know.” At this, he turned to his sister. She was pointing to a beetle on the stone steps. A little way off, a sparrow watched it with glinting eyes.

“Mmm,” his eye moved to Aegon, who had stopped his fussing to listen to his sister-wife. He rolled his eyes at Aemond, who ignored him and turned slowly back to the approaching nobles. The youngest Baratheon girl gasped as his eye moved over her, and she inched closer to her sisters. The stiff leather of this doublet hid his sigh, for Aemond was used to this response, especially from the younger women of the court. On his eighteenth nameday, he decided once and for all to forgo the ugly eyepatch he wore to cover his disfigurement. The serving boy acting as his valet made to place the patch over his braided hair, when the young prince grasped his wrist.    

“Not tonight,”

The boy bowed and left the prince to his chambers. In the candlelight of the room, the sapphire in place of the prince’s missing eye shone vivid and the violet of the other, so famed in Targaryen lore, looked dull by comparison. With one last glance at his reflection, Aemond smoothed his green tunic, flicked the unbraided strands of blond hair over his shoulder, and made his solitary way to the feast. How rude of him, to keep his guests waiting.

With excited steps, he hurried through the keep and to the throne room. A few maidservants gasped upon seeing him and scurried aside, curtsying deeply as he passed them. Even today, Aemond could feel pride swelling in his chest. Maesters, heading back to their cloisters bowed with solemn utterances of his name, and Aemond nodded back, not noticing how their eyes trailed after the young prince with pity and horror. Two guards jumped into position as he approached the great doors of the hall, Aemond barely registering their exchange of shock. Light poured into the hall as they swung open the doors, the orange glow of flame illuminating the prince at the head of the hall. Ser Harrold’s voice announced his arrival, faltering as he turned to look at the young man. No sooner had he entered the hall did the whispered chatter begin. Members of every house gazed upon his nightmarish visage. Some couldn’t look. Girls from noble houses, adorned in their finery, some whom he had hoped to court, turned from his face when he looked upon them. The rest of the memory was a blur of hot tears and screamed vengeance. Since then, the eyepatch remained firmly in place.

“Brother,” Helaena’s hand brushed his own. “You’re staring.” Aemond blinked once, twice and averted his eye from the poor Baratheon girl, her own boring into the ground, quaking as her sister held her hand. Lord Borros and Queen Alicent talked quietly, exchanging pleasantries and glancing occasionally in Aemond’s direction. Ah, so that was the order of it. Marry him off to a Baratheon. Well, the youngest was certainly out of the running.

Another rumble of thunder rattled off the stone walls, accompanied by the clatter of metal against leather. Beside Aemond, Helaena gasped and clapped her hands together. The sound was not due to thunder at all, but the cavalry of horses making its way through the Red Keep’s portcullis. Many of the gathered crowd scuttled to the sides of the barbican courtyard, the Baratheons huddled next to the Queen and the Lannisters stopped in the doorway of the council chamber, eager to assess the party’s new arrivals.

At least three dozen dark stallions poured through the gates, their loose manes rippling in the breeze. The clap of their hooves across the courtyard sent deep tremors through the prince, and at his side he felt his sister shiver. With excitement or nerves, he didn’t know. Above the horses, banners of bronze, blue and wine-rich red flew in the air, the horses emblazoned on them riding the wind, and atop each steed sat a knight, their riding leathers adorned with the sigil of their house; the bucking horse with teeth bared. The helmets of their armour produced plumes of horsehair, no doubt to give the impression they were at one with their mounts. Aemond scoffed. It was a sweet attempt to seem commanding, he supposed. His amusement turned to horror however, when he noticed the slightness of some of the warriors. It couldn’t be. Beneath many of the helmets, scattered amongst the knights, were women. Women in battle dress, shields slung over their backs and swords at their side. The prospect of marrying a Baratheon girl did not seem so dreadful now, if the only women at court were to be Helaena’s ladies-in-waiting, the noble ladies his mother pushed at him or these horse maids.

“Gestillan!”

The cry came from the front of the cavalry, the language one that Aemond could not place, and the cavalry shuffled to a halt. Every head turned towards them. Three riders led the troop, two men and a woman.

“Lord Geodred, of House Beridan, heir to Braedel and commander of the Renward, his sister, Lady Geowyth, and Ser Herumbrand Fasthelm, captain of the Renward.”

Lord Geodred, the man who had issued the call, was at the centre of the three. Unlike the rest of the riders, the three leaders wore no helmets, and Lord Geodred’s hair shone russet like a crown about his head. Stubble decorated his round cheeks, and his small eyes twinkled with mirth. There was something in him that reminded Aemond of his mother in her happier days. The tunic he wore was made of velvet, the fabric coloured the same as the sky when Aemond rode Vhagar just before sun’s rise; that deep, endless blue. Bronze pattern work wound around his sleeves and cape, draped nobly over his mount’s back.

The man to his right was an imposing beast. Ser Herumbrand. The old knight’s dark armour was flecked with scratches, though none could quite match those across his face. His white hair was roughly shorn close to his scalp and, combined with the jutting of his square jaw, gave the man a look of stone come to life. Grey eyes scanned the royals and gathered nobles. He looked down his wide nose at them, though his mouth gave him away. The faintest smile played at the corners if his lips. At his side, his hand rested against the hilt of an enormous sword, the other lax on the reign of the chestnut horse he rode. The two men dismounted and Aemond watched their progress up the great steps towards the royal family. Lord Geodred bowed deeply to the Queen, and when she held out her hand, rather than bend to kiss it, Geodred clasped it warmly with both of his.

“An honour, my Queen, that you would have us attend the King’s council. I am only sorry that it is I and not our uncle,”

“And I am sorry that my husband is not here to welcome you, and that your dear uncle is ill. How is the good King?”

“He is well enough, for now-”

A glint of gold caused Aemond’s eye to drift from his mother and her guests to the woman now dismounting from her own stallion. The black horse she rode was an enormous creature, perhaps the largest horse he had ever seen. The tangle of mane covered its eyes, and it huffed through its flared nostrils as its rider departed with a firm pat to his sleek and muscled neck. From beneath its muzzle she appeared, removing her leather riding gloves and handing them to the rider beside her. Like her brother, the Lady Geowyth was bonny faced, though her hair was much darker. It cascaded in frizzy strands to her waist, the effect giving her the look of something haunted, like a witch fresh from a bog. Where her brother wore blue, she wore the red of her house, dark like blood, the velvet gown frayed and sprayed with mud no doubt from the journey. Lifting the skirt of her dress, she approached her brother, who turned and introduced his sister to the Queen. Aemond watched she curtsied, deeper than any who had come before her, and thanked her for her hospitality.

The Braedels moved along the row, first Lord Geodred, then his sister and Ser Herumbrand. Geodred shook Aegon’s hand jovially after bowing, and the poor prince looked jostled. His ability to stand upright was already hampered by his drinking and the vigorous shaking by a warrior lord did nothing to help him. The lady, Geowyth, curtsied to the prince who took her hand in his and pressed a kiss to it. He muttered something and she laughed, from genuine pleasure or politeness Aemond could not tell. When the party moved towards Helaena, Aegon looked to his brother and winked, licking his lips. He laughed as Aemond imperceptibly shook his head, but ceased when his mother smacked his arm. Aemond distinctly saw her mutter the word “behave.”

Unlike with his mother and brother, Aemond noted that Lord Geodred did not touch Helaena, merely bowed with a gentle “hello”, to which she nodded and clasped her hands. Instead, he stepped aside and introduced the princess to his sister. Helaena, taken by one of her flights of fancy, held out a hand and caught the dark velvet of Lady Geowyth’s cape. She ran her fingers along it murmuring about the delicacy of the embroidery.

“Perhaps we could go to the haberdashers,” Geowyth said gently. “And choose fabric together? By the old Gods and the new, it would be nice to have the company of another young woman.”

Helaena beamed, nodding as she let go of the fabric and swung her arms in front of her. Geodred stepped before Aemond and raised his eyebrows, the act denoting fondness rather than annoyance at their two sisters. The Lord’s calm countenance and assuredness belied his true age for up close, Aemond noted he could have been no older than thirty.

“Prince Aemond,” Geodred bowed. “A pleasure. Your father’s letters to my uncle tell that you are a great student of history.” Beside him, Geowyth looked up.

“History, yes,” Aemond’s voice was measured. “And the languages.”

Geodred nodded. “I hope that you would find the time to show me some of your favourite volumes. I have not the head for history but must learn if I am to inherit my uncle’s kingdom.”

“Of course,” Aemond bowed his head only slightly. “And I might enquire as to your language-” He let the sentence hang, waiting on Geodred to answer.

“Braehic, spoken only in our kingdom. Aed grundset,” At these unknown words, Aemond’s lips twitched into an uncomfortable smile and he bowed, signifying to Geodred that their conversation was at an end. The other man smiled and moved aside. “My sister, Geowyth.”

She was already deep in a bow when Aemond looked upon her. The hair she left untied, tangled like that of her steed, fell forward from her shoulders and near swept the floor. When she straightened to her full height, she met Aemond almost eye to covered eye. At once, Aemond’s eye fell to the ground. The flicker was quick, and he recovered to look at her once again, but nonetheless, they had caught him off guard. Like the bronze of Beridan banners, her eyes gleamed amber. Framed beneath her dark and straight lashes, they stared into his own like an eagle after prey, so bright they were almost yellow. She smiled.

“Your Grace,”

“My lady.” Aemond possessed none of the easy charm of his brother, nor the intriguing gentleness of his sister and, frozen under the gaze of her eyes, said nothing at all. The lady had clearly not expected his silence and glanced quickly to her brother.

“My Queen,” Geodred stepped forward and offered Alicent his arm. “I believe we are the last to arrive-”

“Thank the mother, the maiden and the crone’s sagging-”

“Thank you, Lord Geodred,” Alicent cut Aegon off, taking Geodred’s arm and leading him inside the Red Keep. Behind them followed the royal children and the nobles of the other houses. Helaena tucked her arm into Aemond’s, watching the party from Braedel every now and again over her shoulder.

“Borne and bound,” she muttered.  

“Hm?” Aemond followed her eyes. Lady Geowyth and Ser Herumbrand were deep in conversation. The old knight’s eyes caught Aemond’s and the young prince turned around.

“I like them,”

“I’m glad, sister,” he squeezed her hand. “They seemed very taken by you too.” Helaena blushed and clung closer to him.

“Shame the same can’t be said about you,” Aegon took Helaena’s arm from Aemond’s. When the time was right and he was sober enough to remember, Aegon liked to act the doting husband to his sister. Aemond bowed his head and took great strides to be away from his family and the party behind them, catching Aegon’s words as he departed for his chambers.

“Only a few more hours of council and then the drinking can begin.” A roar of approval rose from the noblemen and Aemond sighed. Between the council and the King’s nameday festivities, women being forced upon him or being ignored completely, Aemond knew this week was to be excruciating.

Note: Gestillan = halt

Aed grundset = of course

The language that the Braedel kingdom speaks is Old English. I was inspired (no surprises here) by Tolkien and the Rohirrim, and the area of the UK that I am from when creating this house. There will be a lot more about them and their society in upcoming chapters! The names in old English names are typically said how the are written, though the prefix “geo” is said as “gay-O”, rather than the “geo" in “geography”.

Tags: @arcielee @mefools @bladeofdreadfort @glitterandgoldfinds @heimtathurs @ewanmitchellcrumbs

#ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond #aemond one eye #borne and bound #ewan mitchell x reader

[neesieiumz]

untamed temptation ⸻ “barbarians, they’re ruthless… in more ways than one. ⸻ t. fushiguro

synopsis ⭄ stuck in an arranged marriage, toji, leader of the wildlands, gives you a taste of something you've yet to experience.

warnings ⭄ 18+. smut. minors do not interact. royal!au. queen-consort!reader. barbarian!toji. black-coded!reader. female reader. afab anatomy. infidelity. your husband has a brothel underneath the castle. your husband is also a bit too trusting of the barbarians. possible second part.

writers notes ⭄ toji debut... whoop! barbarian!toji has been on my mind for a bit so I'm glad I finally got this out, even though I was fighting to edit it... also, I'm looking for beta-readers, so if your interested, send me a message or an ask!

word count ⭄ 4.1k

An arranged marriage, one conducted by your father, to the now king of a small country. A man led by greed and desire for any and everything. To the point that when you were crowned, you were made Queen Consort, a Queen with no power. You were from a far and foreign land, your father, a noble with no power. He would rather have his daughter married to a horrid man, to have some semblance of power within another land. From the moment you met your husband, you knew you were in for a loveless marriage. The two of you found some middle ground, with you ignoring everything he does, and him leaving you to your own devices. It was quiet, finding a few people within the huge castle and surrounding yourself with them.

However, things can not be smooth sailing for you and your people. A war soon approached your borderlines, ravaging the western lands of the kingdom. Your husband, as the leader, left the castle to lead his men into pushing the larger forces back. He was gone for two years, with letters coming from his aides addressing the situation and how things were going. Things were not looking up, until a final letter from his aide, describing an unlikely ally to help them through everything, and how they will be joining them on the return home. It was only for a short period, as the major battles were won, but the war was still going on. It was to thank them for all their help and to help build an official alliance. However, the people who helped to turn this battle were literally, an unlikely source.

Silence rang through the large dining hall, nothing but the sounds of food scraping against the plates, knives, and forks clashing against each other. Within the low-light room, every seat of the elongated table was filled. Food had just been served, with the head of the table, your husband, king of this land taking the first bite before enjoying the rest. As you ate, you glanced at your guest, the unruly bunch, ones you had long heard tales about. 

The barbarians of the Wildlands, an area ruled by chaos.

Your husband had always had a strange obsession with the barbarians, their way of life, everything. So to see them come to the castle, your own home after him being away from war for two years should be surprising but it was not. The few times you have come into his office, you would see posters of barbarians wrapped around his walls, and books piled up about their history. He had always wanted to learn more about them, and now that they are here, he’s giddy like a school child, hoping to impress them in any way he can. 

A few minutes into dinner, your husband soon began speaking with who seemed to be their leader, who you heard others both rave and rant about. According to one of the aides who went with your husband, the war was looking bad for your kingdom. He needed a new ally, and the barbarians were the ones who stepped up. The aides' exact words, “if it was not for the leadership of Toji Fushiguro, his highness would be coming home in a body bag.” He was said to be “chaos in a heavy coat.”

He had once worn a heavy fur coat, evident of his cold becoming, which he had tossed to one of the maids which had nearly knocked her over from the sheer weight. Despite the already heavy coat he once wore, he also wore heavy clothes, adorned with a heavy chest plate with leather straps which he refused to take off when you had asked. 

You stayed silent throughout the dinner, watching as the rest of the guests began picking up their own conversations, your husband joyously chiming in. Your eyes continued to roam around until they landed right on cold black eyes. The larger man smirked as his eyes roamed down, landing on your cleavage being pushed out from your off-shoulder dress. You flinched, sniffing a bit as you adjusted your dress, looking away. You heard a deep chuckle, despite the loudness increasing, and you knew, deep down, as it reverberated through you, it was from him. 

You continued to eat your food, ignoring your husband's conversation that twisted into talk about his private chambers down below. 

---

Toji had enough of this loud mouth. The boisterous king was leading him and his men down somewhere, with the guards behind them carrying crates of beer. The rest of his men ignorantly followed, blinded by the heavy meat and alcohol of the earlier dinner. He soon led them to two doors, closed in on each other. The two guards overseeing the door bowed at the moronic king, before slowly cracking the doors open. The sounds of rushing water soon hit his ears, glancing up at the low glow light as the sounds of spirited laughter, women’s laughter, permeated through the air. Toji could feel his men getting more and more excited as the realization of the noises fell on his face. 

Toji hummed, the witless king had a private brothel underneath his own wife’s feet.

The king took in the faces of Toji’s men, enjoying the joy upon his face. Toji glanced at his own men, who were vibrating in their clothes, itching to go out and enjoy themselves within the brothel. He glanced at them before nodding his head giving them their blessing, and the moment the guards had set the crates down, before prying them open. They helped themselves to a bottle before spreading themselves around the room, enjoying the company of the women draped across the couch. Toji glanced around, reaching down to grab his own bottle of alcohol. Every time his eyes landed on a woman, nothing within sparked, eyes dulled as he took the closest seat to him, which just happened to be an empty couch. 

As he gazed, his mind flew back in time, to when his eyes first landed on you. The all-black dress perfectly fits your form, the long train of lace attached to the back of the dress, is evidence of a true queen reigning amongst men. Glossy plump lips, Toji smirked at it being curled in the fakest smile he has ever seen. He took another swig of his beer, your figure walking away flashing into his mind. A menacing smile formed on his face, a pure destination and goal in mind. As he rose up from his seat, grabbing another beer, a hand fell upon his shoulder. Heart striking, he turned around, pushing the hand off his schedule. He made contact with the very king, who had two women draped around, caressing him slowly. 

“Fushiguro! You haven’t gotten a lady for you to enjoy yet?”

He grumbled, irritation flashing on his face, before looking up at him, “these kinds of things aren’t my thing, I’ll let my men enjoy themselves.”

He didn’t let the king get in another word before walking out. Behind him, he could hear a guard asking if he wished for him to follow Toji. The moment he heard the king say no, he smirked, before walking right out. He ignored the dirty looks the guards gave him, their order to leave him alone obviously. He walked down the porcelain halls, wooden walls covered in the pompous paintings of the idiotic king, along with his ancestors. As heavy boots stumped across the halls, heading up the multiple flights of stairs, continuing on until he reached the very top floor. He glanced over to his right, before spotting a door creaking open, a light illuminating the small crack. 

Something within him tugged at him, as he slowly turned walking towards the light. Closer he got, the more subtle noises he could hear, humming in a sweet tune. Before Toji knew it, he was standing right in front of the door, leaning down and peeping through the crack. 

There you stood, in front of the fancy vanity table. His eyes wandered down, eyes locked in the silk night dress you were, clinging onto your form. Draped across your shoulders was a matching robe, trimmed with lace at the hems. You were cleaning your face, wiping away the makeup you had worn during the dinner. He stands up straight before glancing around, noticing how there were absolutely no guards around. He wondered if this was their queen, correct? As he thought back to the dinner, and even the few moments as he and his people arrived at the huge castle. A queen ignored by her people, this wasn't the first time he’s seen that. 

He stood up straight, seeing you begin to turn around, probably to your bed. With his free hand, he held it up before giving the door three heavy knocks, taking a step back as you suddenly turned around. You walked up, before opening the door fully, eyes widening as soon as they landed on his tall form. Standing up straight, your face steeling over, you clasped your hand together before speaking. 

“Lord Fushiguro,” you began, voice trembling slightly, “what brings you here?”

He smirks, taking another swig of his drink, “I don’t know… something just led me down here. A question, yes a question.”

“I have a question for you, Your Majesty,” he mocked, tipping his bottle towards you. 

You blinked, shuffling on your feet, “... if I answer this question, will you leave?”

He smirked, “we shall see about that, your majesty.”

You inhaled sharply, shaking your head a bit before looking back at him, “fine, fine, I’ll answer it anyways. What is your question, Lord Fushiguro?”

His eyebrow quivered at the title, but he said nothing about it, “what are your thoughts about what’s below you?”

Both your eyebrows quirked up, “below me?”

“Yeah, the brothel your dearly beloved husband has set up. Where all my men are currently enjoying themselves.”

You blinked, rolling your eyes slightly, “what he does on his own time has nothing to do with me.”

“Is that so…?”

“If that’s all…” you said, beginning to press your hands against the wooden door.

You hummed, taking a step back, however, you could do anything, he suddenly barged into your room, ignoring your short screech, and invading your space. Now that he was inside, he got a better look into your personal quarters. The floors were wooden, although they were covered in intricately designed carpets. The room was huge, bigger than the hovel he had back in the Wildlands. In the middle of the room sat a small table, with two chairs around it, with a tea set sitting right in the middle. He smirked, before eyeing the elongated ottoman bench resting right at the end of your bed. He sat right onto it and relaxed against the foot of your bed.

Anger flashed on your face, stomping towards him, “what do you think you're doing?! Leave before I call the guards!”

He raised an eyebrow, “the same guards that aren’t guarding your door? Yet happen to eb on every other hallway in thai entire castle?”

You pressed your lips shut, your steps stumbling. It was true, the guards were never at your door at night, despite being the queen of their very small nation. 

“Still, leave now, I need to sleep. I have things to do tomorrow.”

He hummed as if he didn't hear what you’d said, taking another glance around your room before looking towards the ground. He then looked back up at you, seeing you still standing there, arms crossed, countenance showing irritation. He licked his lips, his legs shifting before easing them open, his heavy pants creasing against his obvious erection. Your eyes fell down his form, before falling right on his pants, eyes widened at the obvious bulge. You shifted in your steps, before looking right back up into his eyes, hands fidgeting, gripping the silk gown. 

“Aww, why the look, your majesty, see something you like?”

You took a deep breath, before letting out a shakier, closing your eyes, “I really think it’s time for you lea—”

He suddenly reached, grabbing your dress before pulling you close to him. You held your arms out, as a means to keep him away but it was no use. His brute strength was no match to your own, as his hand rested right on your bottom, keeping a snug grip right on. 

“Lord Fushiguro, what are you do—”

Gasping as you felt his hand take your own, before placing right on top of his hard-on. His hand guided you, hearing his deep groans resound in your ear. A lowly ache began pulsing through you, a feeling you had not felt in a very long time. His hand resting on your ass had begun to rub circles through the silk. 

“This is… this is not right, please—” you mumbled, feeling yourself begin to drip down your thighs. 

“So your husband can build a house of ill repute or whatever it is you call it here right beneath your feet, but you, a queen ignored by her people, cannot have a night to yourself?”

You said nothing about that, but within you, he was right. You gazed into his dark eyes, before tentatively placing your hands right on his shoulders. The man smirked, before taking you in, placing you right on his lap. His head hovered right beside your ears.

“Let go for me, my queen, and I’ll show you something your husband can never show you.”

Your breath became heavy as your hips began slowly grinding against him, seeking some sore of friction for the building ache within you. Toji pressed his lips against your ear, before slowly trailing them down to your neck, his heavy breath causing shivers to roll down your spine. Your sudden convulsion and you racing out, gripping at his rough shirt as he shifted you around. He forced your legs around, causing your dress to rise suddenly pressing your now exposed pussy against his pants. He moved his hand from them, placing it under your chin, slightly squishing your cheeks as he pulled your face closer. With vigor, he pressed his lips against yours, rough and heavy. You gasped into the kiss, your hips grinding harder against him. Your every movement electrified you, your moans being swallowed into his strong kiss. He tasted of alcohol, you savored his taste, taking in anything you could. 

“Lord Fushi— oh my god,” you let out the moment he released your lips. 

“Call me Toji.”

With no other words, he soon let go of your face, his hand joining his other, scooping you around your bottom. Squealing, your legs wrapped around his waist as he stood straight up, before turning around. He climbed right on your bed, with you still attached to him. He smiled as he towered over you, your arms spread out along with your braids across the bed. He soon reached over, using his two fingers, pinching out the already low-dimmed flame before grabbing the hanging curtains that were tied up around your bed. He basically ripped off the ribbon, allowing the fabric to fall around all sides of the bed, cutting you off from the rest of your room. You could still see his form moving in the dark, seeing him slowly remove his very heavy clothing. The sound of his breastplate hitting your wooden floors. 

The movement he finished, wearing nothing but undergarments, he grabbed at your own dress, ignoring your squeaks before basically ripping it off your body. You wore nothing under it, revealing your naked body. His larger hand cupped your breast, leaning down to press even more kisses along your neck and chest. Your hands trembled, hesitantly placing them on his shoulders. His lips stretched into a smile as he felt your hands, your nails slightly digging into his skin. His tongue licked and lapped at your soft, clean skin. As he did so, his fingers pinched around your nipple, twisting and tugging at it. The sudden twinge of pain had you curling up against him, feeling his body against yours. You squirmed under him, his movements soon moving to your breasts. His hands cupped both of them, before going in, pressing kisses all over them before wrapping his lips around your left nipple. 

You had no words, only moans could spill out of your mouth as you succumbed to whatever he was giving you. Toji groaned against your chest, the vibrations convulsing through you. Toji glanced up seeing your face overtaken with arousal, drool dripping down your face. An easy contrast to the stoic cold countenance of earlier at dinner. He soon let go, cold air hitting your breasts, causing you to shiver before moving to the next nipple, sucking away at it. When he finished, he rose up, his hands leaving your chest before reaching down, grabbing your legs, and stretching them back. The wet sounds of your pussy resounded throughout the room, causing embarrassment to flash through you.

“Look at you, all wet, my queen, and I haven’t even touched you down there yet.”

You could only let out a whimper, letting out a short gasp as he held both your ankles in one hand. He placed one hand against your cunt, pressing against your labia, fingertips steadily getting wet. Toji then pressed up against you, feeling steady resistance. You jerk, hissing as he slowly pressed a finger into you, sharp twinges of pain running their course through your body. He expects this, seeing how your husband behaves with his very own eyes. 

“Ahh wait wait wait it hurts, it hurts,” you cried out, pushing up against him. 

He shushed you, continuing to press his finger into your tightness. You let out moans of pain as he slowly moved his digit in and out of you. Your once heated grip on his shoulders now dug into them, leaving heavy marks deep within his skin. Your pained gasps soon turned more breathy, as your hips ground against his fingers. 

“Feeling better, your majesty?” His voice took on a patronizing tone, humming as he pressed his thumb against your clit, using your wetness to rub circles into it. 

“It’s been a long time since you took anything, huh? Pathetic king never does anything for you?”

You couldn't answer him yet your hips answered for him as they bucked and jerked. He reportedly planned his fingers into you, his pace picking up more and more as your arousal began to coat his fingers. Soon, he slowed down, before slowly pulling his fingers out of your cunt. He reached, licking your slick off of his fingers, revealing the taste. Sweat dripped down your face, neck, and body as he readied himself. He was still holding your legs together, and before you knew it, you could feel the tip of his length pressing against you. Gasping, the size felt much larger than when you first touched him. 

He began to slowly press himself into you, squirming as he did so. 

“Fuck,” you gasped, cursing as he sunk into you further. 

“Ohh, such a nasty mouth on you, what would your subjects say,” he said, suddenly slamming into you. 

You screamed, your high-pitched tone causing you to slam your hand over your mouth. Toji rocked into you, with no regard for you. Your muffled moans spill you of your hands, the bed jerking with every movement he makes. His hands left your ankles, allowing you to rest them against his shoulders as his hands wrapped themselves around your waist. Toji was able to pull you closer, before reaching up quickly and smacking your hands away from your lips, which were wet with spit.

“Fuck, don’t cover up your mouth, let the whole fucking world hear how well you’re being fucked.”

“Oh my god, you’re going too fast, Toji—”

Your noises echoed through the room, wet skin slapping against wet skin matching the rhythm. Toji rocked into you, with no regard for how you were feeling. He repeatedly plunged into you, and a feral grin stretched across his face. His short dark hair lowered against his face as he suddenly leaned into you, pressing into you deeper and deeper. Getting closer to your face, he suddenly swallowed your moans in another deep kiss. Exchanging spit, your tongues swirling together as you removed your nails from his shoulders, wrapping them fully around his back, holding him close. As you let go of each other, a sliver of spit connects your wet lips. 

Suddenly, he rose up, pulling out of you as he grabbed at you. Toji placed his hands back on your hips before moving. Squealing as he suddenly turned you around, his heavy hands pressing up against your back. Chest pressed against the bed, hands lifting up your hips before plunging right back inside you. Screaming as he did, feeling him hit points within you that he hadn’t before. Trembling as his pace picked up as if he hadn’t stopped at all. Your braids, which had spilled from your silk scarf, whipped around from his sudden and rugged movements. In the spur of the moment, letting out a yelp in pain as you felt a hot sharp pain in your scalp before feeling the upper half of your body being pulled back. 

Gasping as you felt Toji close to you, hearing his grunts closer and much clearer in your ear. His hand left your hips before suddenly coming down right on your ass, leaving a heavy smack, leaving a burning sting against your deep skin. You shriek, your body surging up against his hefty movements.

“Making such a fucking mess,” he groaned, looking at the clear juices sopping from your pussy, making a mess all over him.

“God, imagine if your husband, the fucking dunce, catches us, I wonder what he would say, hmm?”

“What would he say if his pretty wife was getting fucked within an inch of her life, right here on her bed.”

You couldn't help but clench around him as he said those words. A sudden rush built up with you, clenching around his dick tighter and tighter. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck fuck, something’s coming fuck—!”

Your words activated something within him, as his pace sped up expeditiously, his torso slamming into you as he did. You could do nothing but take it, curses and moans continuing to spill out of your mouth. The heated feeling continuously builds up within you, your body clenching around him. 

“Sucking in me like that,” he groaned, his thrust becoming repeatedly unsteady. 

“Oh my,” with no sudden warnings, you spasmed, moans turning into screams as clear liquid suddenly squirted out of you, dripping all down your thighs and also on his body. 

Your sudden actions caused Toji to grunt, before slamming into you a few final times, before letting out a deep sigh, spilling his seed deep within you. You let out a loud sigh, slumping into the bed, legs quivering like jelly. Your mind buzzed, white noise going through your head, barely even hearing your breath as you closed your eyes. The bed was heavy with sweat, however, you barely felt it as your mind slipped into a deep heavy sleep. 

Toji eased out of you slowly, taking a few steps to get out of bed. He gazed at your figure, slowly heaving in and out in a deep sleep. Smirking, he grabbed your blanket before tossing it over your body and turning around. Without any other words, he picked up his clothes, tossing them on his body before picking up his slightly spilled bottle and heading out the door. 

---

You were suddenly shaken away, mouth dry as you glanced around, before locking your weary eyes on a maid. Maryam, the one who always woke you up when you didn’t wake up on your own. Her eyes shined with concern as you slowly sat up, pulling your blanket to your chest.

“Your majesty, are you alright? You haven't woken up, and it is nearly noontime.”

You blinked, waking up once you heard her say that. It had been a while since you slept till that late since you first arrived here when you got married. You glanced around, seeing the sun seeping into the curtains. As you looked, sudden flashes ran through your mind, of a tall buff barbarian ravaging you all throughout the night. You took a deep breath, no no that must have been a dream, you couldn't have possibly…

Maryam sniffed, taking a step back, “your majesty… why does it smell like the beer his highness brought for those brutes?”

Your heart dropped. 

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