#Coin and Crown au

[leothetraveler]

Can I ask about the character on your icon? what’s their story or and how you created them?

That's actually the one from the Coin and Crown AU! I have yet to write a proper chapter 1 for it. The art in my icon was made by @sianara7, who I met in a discord server.

they were going to be my cotl sona originally, but I used Foreign King more and they took their place...until I started writing about them again. I renamed the Merchant to Leonidas, or Leon for short. I just needed an oc and traveling merchant was the first idea that came naturally. nothing too special.

A short summary of their story is that they grew up in the lands of the Old Faith roughly 200 years before CotL proper starts. After denying the Bishops both worship and respect (as well as being nigh impossible to catch), the Bishops lured him in with a public offer of leniency. A trap of course, but they couldn't kill him. the offer was public, so they had to honor it. Instead, they left him with a curse: immortality. He would be forced to watch as all he cared for withered away around him. He can still be killed, but hasn't aged a day. He eventually made friends with the lamb, witnessed them defeating Narinder, and settled down with them, becoming Lamb's husband.

I have three chapters posted already. not my finest work, but still good. My masterpost has the links.

[gumified]

WHISPERS OF GOLD

pairing: demon!satoru x human!reader

summary: when you're tossed as a sacrifice to the tyrannical king you're made to do the impossible, spin straw into gold. you know it's hopeless and that death awaits you yet when a demon appears how can you refuse his help?

content: 15.3k, smut, fluff, fantasy au, fem!reader, violence (not from gojo), masturbation (fem.), cunnilingus (fem. + male. receiving), unprotected, creampie, overstimulation, degradation, praise, dirty talk, fingering, squirting, pssy eating

note: i really like writing fantasy aus with gojo as you guys can tell. i sincerely apologise for the obscene word count that this fic has, please forgive me i got carried away with the world building TT. i've been cooking this one up ngl hope you enjoy!!!

Each girl, over the age of 18, enters every two months and not one returns. Some say that they are kept locked away, others say they are killed brutally. People speculate that the King is a murderous tyrant who had killed to earn the crown. That explains why no maiden has ever passed the test he sets. No one knows what the young women go through, if it's a physical test or a mental one. They have no hints nor is there any information given prior. The chosen ones can never say anything because they never return. The people who try to sneak inside the palace for revenge or simply out of curiosity are killed or horribly slain. 

In the Kingdom, there are only three types of people. At the pinnacle were magical beings - creatures or beings that possess Mana more potent than anything, they have the power to overrule any empire and their blood is more pure than any stream. 

Mana born children - the ones born with magical powers running through their veins, unlike the magical beings their blood isn’t pure, resulting in them losing to the magical beings. They are usually pampered with luxuries and money. The nobles are blessed with this title.

At the bottom of the hierarchy were the ordinary civilians—those devoid of Mana or magical abilities. They formed the majority of the population and were treated with disdain by the upper echelons of society.

The Kingdom’s hierarchy is unfair, yet no one challenges it for that would mean certain death. 

“Morning Mr Kou!” You call out happily. The village is bustling and the market is crowded as usual. 

“Morning Y/n. You look well.” The old man you approach is smiling kindly as he hands you two loaves of bread. “How is your father doing?”

You try to hide the obvious fall of your mood. “He’s still in the bar, you know how he is.” 

Mr. Kou lets out a sympathetic sigh, shaking his head. Passing you a jar of homemade strawberry jam, he catches your puzzled expression. "Take it, I've made plenty. And how's your little business going?"

“Thank you, Mr Kou.” You beam, dropping a few coins in his hand. “Perfumery? I wouldn’t call it a business, it’s just a little hobby I enjoy doing. It’s going well though, a lot of the village likes them.” 

“You’ll be making more than us soon.” He chuckles.

"I could never!" You gasp, a hand coming to your chest and you break out in light laughter. Mr Kou smiles and you say goodbye, setting off. 

As you walk through the market, people greet you good morning and give you sweet smiles. The sun bathes the scene in a golden glow, and the joyful laughter of children fills the air as they dart between stalls. One bumps into you and he apologises profusely, running away before you can say anything. The little village you grew up in holds many memories, you practically knew everyone here, but there's a looming shadow of uneasiness that settles across the village. 

The two month period was nearly up meaning that another girl would be chosen to enter the palace soon, never to return. No one wanted it to be them. No one. And even though there's a small chance that anyone from your village would be chosen from the entire Kingdom, there was still a chance it could be you.

"If it isn't my best friend in the whole Kingdom." Rei sidles up beside you, her dark hair in a loose braid to the side. "I got you some flowers." She holds a bouquet of multi-coloured tulips, nicely wrapped in purple tissue.

“You sure those aren’t for Ayato?” The corner of your lips lift into a cheeky grin when you see her eyes widen. “The two of you have been getting awfully close lately.” You wiggle your eyebrows.

“Shut up.” She smacks your arms playfully, letting out a giggle. The both of you had known each other for years, starting when you had nearly broken the flower vase in her mother’s shop, blossoming a friendship. From that day onwards you would constantly visit Rei’s ‘flower land’ as she called it when she was six. You also got free flowers whenever you wanted, so that’s always a plus.

Ayato Inoue was the son of the local boutique owner. His mother made quite a lot of money, many nobles visiting her shop gave the family a lot of riches. He, however, took an interest in carpentry. Loving the way wood could be easily moulded with his fingers, how it could be shaped and designed with intricate patterns. 

He had met you and Rei when the both of you were teenagers, roaming the woods trying to find medicinal herbs to help your sick father at the time. It was a shock when he had tumbled down from a tree landing unceremoniously on Rei with a loud thunk. 

The two were smitten with each other and you resorted to helping both sides. 

“They’re for you Y/n.” Rei places the bouquet in your arms. “An early birthday present.” 

“My birthday isn’t until next week.” You giggle, sniffing the flowers. The delightful, sweet scent fills your senses. The honeyed tones take you back to the fresh spring and the blooming flowers around the lake. “Thank you though, they smell lovely, I can make great perfume!”

“I know your birthday isn’t until next week, like I said it’s an early birthday present. I won’t be able to make it for your birthday this year, remember?” 

You vaguely recall the one afternoon when Rei was excitedly explaining that she would be attending a flower festival in the neighbouring town. She had the same light in her eyes whenever she would arrange bouquets and you knew how much this meant to her. Even if it was on your birthday she had spent multiple with you, one without her would be okay. 

Out of the corner of your eye you see Ayato waving at the two of you. There’s a bright smile on his face when he shouts both of your names loudly causing passersby to look at him, irritated. A stall in front of you, selling freshly churned butter, latches onto your attention.

“Rei, why don’t you go accompany Ayato.” You push her towards her crush. “I’ve got to finish up my shopping and I’ll meet you guys at the normal place, okay?”

“Please don’t leave us alone together again.”

“No promises.” You say simply before skipping to the stall. 

The overpowering scent hits you like a truck and you inhale the light hints of sweetness in the air, swirled with the familiar hints of dairy. The young girl running the stall can't be much younger than you, maybe two or three years. Fair hair tied in a neat bun and by the tanned colour of her skin she stays in the sun milking cows for hours in the day. She shows you what she's offering and the rows of fresh butter is something that must have taken her hours, even days, to make.

"Must have a lot of cows." 

She looks up and a laugh slips out of her lips. "Yeah, but I love them like crazy." She waves her arm in front of the simple display on the stall. "Anything you're interested in?"

"Just plain old butter." You hum, watching as she nods, packaging your order in a small paper bag. She tells you the price and you drop a few coins in her hand, giving her an extra gold coin to which she protests. "Nope, you keep it! Thank you." You press the coins into her hand before skipping off.

The next stop is the flower shop, even with the bouquet in your hands you didn't want to turn that into a perfume, after all it is your birthday present. A shock of colour greets you when you open the door, red roses, purple irises, yellow sunflowers. You pick up each flower, bringing each to your nose as you smell the delicate scent, placing them into your basket if you deem them worthy. 

There’s nothing too special about your day, there’s nothing special about your life to be fair. However, as you settle down for the evening and the fire crackles as you look up at the full moon you wonder if, just maybe, there could be something more. You drift off to sleep as usual, conscious dancing away as you let your eyes droop with sleep.

It’s eerily quiet, even for a Monday. Shops are empty and there are only a few people milling around. Not even the old lady by the fountain is there (she’s usually begging for spare coins). You had originally planned to buy some meat for dinner but the owner, Mrs Lee, isn’t by her stall like normal.  

There’s a small crowd around the local pub that draws your attention. As you walk closer people give you pitiful looks and they express their condolences. You don’t understand what's happening but there’s an uneasiness that settles itself in the bottom of your stomach. Ayato bounds up to you, panting.

“Y/n!” He grabs your hand, pushing away the crowd to reveal a poster nailed to the wooden wall. The first thing you notice is that it’s got your name plastered in big letters across the top. The second thing you notice are the words ‘next maiden to enter the palace’. 

Now the crowd is silent as they watch you read over the information. There are people looking at you sadly and those who knew you since you were a baby have tears in their eyes because they know this is it. 

You don’t cry. You don’t scream. You don’t react.

The only thing you do is grip Ayato’s hand and say. “The guards are picking me up on my birthday.” A round of unsettled murmuring erupts from behind you. Nevertheless you put on a brave smile. “I better make the most of my time left then.”

No one dares to speak when the guards come to pick you up in the morning. There’s nothing fancy about the simple white dress you're wearing. Ayato’s mum had insisted she make you an extravagant gown but what use is that when you’re going to die anyway? Even though the carriage that is meant to be escorting you looks regal, it doesn’t mask the fact you’re being treated like a prisoner. 

The guards don’t let you walk by yourself, preferring to drag you along by your arms, there are multiple times where their grip would tighten, making you wince in pain. When you take one last look at the crowd you realise a pair of familiar eyes staring back at you. 

Rei blinks, tears threatening to escape from her eyes. She can’t do anything and even if she did the guards would probably slit her throat on sight. Ayato must have told her about you getting chosen. You feel partly to blame that she has to miss the flower pageant she’s been so excited to go to. But there's another part of you that's glad she's here. At least you get to see your best friend one more time before you're whisked away.

“Foot. In.” A guard growls, prompting you to properly get into the carriage. He, like the others, isn't looking at you. Their armour clad bodies are faced away from you as they close the door. You cast one last look at the village you grew up in. It hurts that your father isn’t here to see you off but you weren’t expecting anything from him anyway.

The journey to the palace isn’t a comfortable one. You encounter many bumps on the road and your back hurts even with the high quality padding on the seats. You’re not used to this treatment, whenever you would travel you would go by horse. The motions of the carriage had your stomach doing all kinds of tricks. 

You watch the scenery outside for a while. Looking at the green trees go by, followed by some pretty flowers. A few birds would often swoop down, allowing you a glimpse of their bright feathers. Since there’s no one to keep you company you find your eyes drooping quicker than expected. Sleep is the only way you could truly escape the cruel reality. 

“Get out.” 

Your eyes snap open when you feel someone grab your arm, pulling you out of the carriage. It annoys you that you had barely got a wink of sleep before you were shaken awake. There were already red marks on your arms from where they had gripped you last time. 

“I can do it myself.” You hiss, tugging your arm away from him, stepping out on your own. He doesn’t bother to reply, only letting out a soft scoff. 

The palace is much grander than you expected. It was meant to look magical and beautiful but it only had a dark grim aura around it. The curtains are drawn shut and four turrets rise high in the sky, looming over. There's nothing magical about this.

When you enter the grand doors, there’s a chandelier that greets you. Tiny crystals dangle down, reflecting from the sunlight shining in. The place is dusted in gold. There’s a soft patterned rug beneath your feet and you inspect the swirls of dark purple thread. 

A family portrait, hanging from a wall, catches your eye. There’s a man with light blonde hair and a slowly receding hairline yet he has the most captivating jewel-like eyes. That’s the previous King Avery and next to him his wife, Queen Letitia. She was blessed with ruby red hair and a beautiful smile. Her eyes were the loveliest shade of blue. People used to say that once you saw her you wouldn't be able to look away and now you understood what they meant.

You remembered the time when the both of them ruled. You had only been little but even then you could still hear the crowds noise at the yearly festivals. The smell of sweet hot chestnuts and savoury meals. The burning of gunpowder from the fireworks mixed with the stench of bittersweet alcohol. Everyone was always so happy. The Kingdom was at peace but that's in the past. 

When the two had passed away the crown passed to their eldest son, Mikhail. He had inherited his fathers jewel eyes and his mothers fiery hair. He had a warmth that exuded from the family portrait that hung above. Both parents had doted on him. Sadly, the crown had only lasted on his head for so long. 

The story isn’t clear but one morning, when the maids went to wake him up, he was found dead in his bed. There weren’t any signs of who the killer was or even if it was an assassination. So, at the age of 15, young Prince Kael was crowned King. 

Unlike his brother he had dull grey eyes and a bad temper. The red hair he possessed reflected on his power to burn a whole village down if he was angered. His eyes on the portrait were lifeless and unlike the rest he was not smiling. People thought that he had killed Mikhail for the throne and even if the rumours were true, no one had validated them. 

Someone from behind you pushes you forward causing you to stumble and you brace yourself already knowing you were going to fall. A pair of arms catch you and you open your eyes to see dark grey orbs staring at you. The man has a scowl on his face.

“Sorry Your Highness, the woman seems to be clumsy.” A guard snatches you away from the King’s arms.

“Even if she is a prisoner here, you shouldn’t push her around. Understand?” Something flickers in his eyes and you get a glimpse of the tyrannical King everyones so afraid of. The guard in question simply nods, not daring to say anything else. The King turns to you. “So you’re the lowly commoner that has Mana running through her veins and a face like a goddess.”

You don’t speak. Normally, you would have glared at whoever called you a ‘lowly commoner’ but this time it’s different. You had your father to blame for getting you into this situation. He just had to get drunk and brag to a guard about his daughter.

“Would you look at that? We've gotten a strong one.” He chuckles, reaching out to brush your cheek but you dodge his hand. “You do realise that if you don't pass the test I have for you, your life is gone.”

“What exactly is this test?” The words come out before your mind can comprehend anything. Kael only grins wickedly.

“Glad you asked.” He motions the guards to help drag you across the floor and up the winding staircase. The higher you went, the colder it seemed to be. Finally, you reached a wooden door with a huge lock. He swings the door open and a pile of straw and a loom is inside. You stand, confused. Did he want you to make him a straw blanket or something?

“Spin straw into gold. That’s all I ask.” He doesn’t give a reaction that he’s joking. You feel the panic well up in your chest. “You have three days, starting tomorrow.” Then he leaves.

It hurts when the guards throw you onto the ground. They don’t speak a word when they lock the door, leaving you in the cold barren room. You shiver unconsciously, they haven’t even bothered to give you a blanket to cover yourself with. The room wasn’t big, there was a bed in the corner and only one tiny window where light could barely shine through. There aren’t any glass panes and no one could look in much less spot you. The room is pungent and if boring had a scent this would be it. 

The pile of straw takes up most of the room with the exception of the small loom placed in the corner. You begin to feel hopeless, remembering what the King had said a few minutes ago. No one could spin straw into gold in three days, therefore your life would end. There was no solution to your problem but you were still determined. Maybe it was magic straw or maybe it was enchanted to change into gold if it met the right person. 

You approach the pile. It was no bigger than a baby elephant and for someone with magical abilities turning this into gold would be no problem at all. You, however, weren’t gifted with such abilities. Even if you did manage to find a way you would have to stay up all night and you could already notice the sun beginning to set. 

It’s impossible.

This was a trap set up for death. No one could survive it. Suddenly, you feel sorry for all the girls that were once put in the exact place you were in. Now you know how all the previous girls felt in your place, they must have given up as well. Given up to be killed instead. 

It’s a well known fact in your village that your father was boastful and arrogant, if he had kept his mouth shut maybe you wouldn’t be in this position. There was no reason why he even needed to tell everyone you, a lowly commoner, possessed Mana in your body. He also didn’t need to brag about your beauty, it’s as if he didn’t realise the King would catch whiff of his lies sooner or later. 

You don’t know when you fall asleep. Your eyelids close by themselves and your body’s shivering, no blanket to keep you warm from the cold cell. The whistling of the wind sings you a lullaby to sleep and you let your worries slip. 

“Seriously? Another one?” A voice mutters and you hear a low growl. “At least this one’s prettier than the rest.” 

You’re still half asleep when you open our eyes, tired. It doesn’t hit you that there’s someone looming over you until the man smirks. His sapphire eyes draw you in and you forget how to use your voice momentarily and you only snap out of it when his eyes flicker to a bright ruby red then back to the coal black it once was. 

“You’re what? Number 63?” He groans, ruffling his white hair. It’s tousled perfectly and there are strands that stick out. However, his hair still looks impeccable even after he runs his fingers through it repeatedly. “Seriously, you’re probably scared of me aren’t you, human?” He kneels down so you can look at him without breaking your neck.

Up close, you can examine the beauty of his facial features. Eyes that are big and round that you’re sure once held the innocence of a child. Sharp jaw and skin so smooth and pale. His lips are tinted red. Plump and plushy. It strikes you that his flawless face didn’t look human at all. Actually, there is nothing that will give him away, that is if you didn't look closely. 

“What are you?” 

“W-What am I?!” He splutters, completely dumbfounded. You nod, hoping that you didn’t anger this non-human. “I’m a human of course.” He puffs out his chest confidently, like he didn’t just give himself away a few seconds ago.

“You called me a ‘human’ just a while ago. So it’s either you have a really weird god complex or you’re not human. And judging by the way your eyes can change colour, which only magical beings can possess, you’re not human at all.” You scoot away from him, maintaining a good distance between the two of you. “Now tell me, what are you?”

He scowls. “Smart one, aren’t you?” He sits down, lighting a fire in his hand, making you gasp. He grins wickedly, creeping towards you. “You want to know what I am, little human?” You gulp when he leans in close so you could feel his hot breath against your neck, whispering.

“I’m a demon.”

You leap backwards, crossing your arms over your chest. Though you had no Mana, you were taught how to pack a good punch by Ayato. 

Demons are rare in the Kingdom but you can still find them lurking, mingling with humans. Their kind was eradicated years ago yet some still survived. They grew in secret, disguising themselves like humans to blend in, to keep safe. Mana flowed through their veins instead of blood, the possessed magical abilities much more powerful than any other magical being. 

Parents taught their children to stay away from anyone with jewel like eyes and a face that seemed too good to be true. You were taught the same. Demons are known to inflict terror and fear on their victims. They hate the existence of humans, the exact kind that destroyed them. 

And here you are, in a room with one.

“So now you’re scared. Are you going to run away?” The demon grins, teeth blindingly white. “Wait you can’t, you’re locked in and the only way to escape is to spin straw into gold. Pity, truly a pity. Such a beautiful girl like you being sacrificed because of one tyrannical king.” 

“I don’t need someone mocking me when I’m going to die soon.” You snap. “And a demon at that.”

His grin widens and you can see how his teeth are sharper, almost like knives. “What if you don’t die?”

You frown. Don’t die. That’s impossible, you have to spin straw into gold. Even if you escape, which you can’t, you will be shot by the dozens of archers around the palace. Yet you’re still curious what this demon meant.

“How would I do that?” You ask.

He holds his hand out, smirking, eyes suddenly reverting to the shocking red. “Make a deal and find out.” 

That night you toss and turn, head filled with thoughts. Thoughts that shouldn't have been there in the first place. There’s no way you could make a deal with a demon. Making one would mean binding your soul to him, so you’re to obey his every command. It’s a contract between an owner and the dog, to which you are on the losing side. Not to mention the ridiculous predicament he had offered in exchange for your life. 

You wouldn't...sleep with him. It was clearly not right and you've never been taken to bed. It would be completely inappropriate. 

Yet the lewd thoughts of him moaning above you as you whimper and twitch helplessly beneath him has your panties soaking. The mere sounds of his delightful groans has your heart racing. The image of him plunging into your wet pussy, erotic sounds echoing off the stone walls. It didn't help that he had such an attractive face. Demons were always known to be amazingly good looking but you didn't think that they would look so beautiful. 

You close your eyes, imagining the way he would whisper into your ear, biting your earlobe as he trails wet kisses down your neck. How his hot breath would burn your skin as he mutters your name over and over again in a way leaving you wanting more. The only thing that was missing was his name but you knew that Demons would never reveal their name to someone because that would mean that they would have to obey that every person's command, no matter how dangerous or lethal. 

The feeling of your hot wet core has you squirming. It’s stupid how something like him was able to provoke such an intimate reaction from you. The painties you're wearing cling to your folds and you haven't brought a change of clothes. However, the heat is too much to bear and you bury your fingers inside your pussy with no hesitation. There's something that unravels within you when you curl your fingers. You suppress the urge to moan, only letting small whines escape your lips. 

Unbeknownst to you, there are a pair of dark eyes, watching as you throw your head back in pleasure. Watching as you let little, cute moans escape from your lips. He grins smugly. 

"Looks as if the little human will be accepting the deal after all."

The first day flies by with you pondering the deal. It stays in your mind for most part of the day, spare some time with you staring at the pile of straw. There are moments between the day when the guards will slip you crumbs of food and each time they would glance at the straw and give you a look of sympathy. The food they give is just enough, a slice of bread and a cup of water. Your stomach groans with hunger even after your meal. 

It's at nightfall when you hear the low crackle of a fire. You turn around, ready to throw a punch only to see the demon. He's dressed as if he's about to go to a funeral, black suit with a crisp black shirt underneath. He asks if you've accepted the deal and you vehemently shake your head. All he reacts with is a twitch of his lips that threaten to draw up into a gleeful grin. You don't plan to give in. So that night you sleep in peace. 

There are still two days left. 

When the sun rises you get up. Now you're more determined than ever to get this straw into gold. You stalk over to the loom, trying to thread the straw but it's too difficult. Your fingers are sore and they're starting the bleed. The straw starts fraying causing you to panic. There's the smell of burning wood and you try to look out of the tiny slot they have provided the room for air. You can't see anything but your best guess was that they are burning some trees or some rotten, old wooden swords.

The afternoon sun still beams down brightly though you can't see it. The stone room is cold despite the warm weather. You wrap your arms around yourself, hoping to get warmer. The crust of bread you had eaten had begun to digest and your stomach craved for more food. 

That night the demon comes back again, this time wearing a simple white shirt, the first few buttons undone. You try not to stare at the creamy expanse of his chest instead focusing on the fact you had less than 48 hours until your life would be ended. He once again asks if you accepted the deal but you decline, this time more hesitant. You don't want to give in, don't want to be binded to him, yet you don't want to die either.

You stay awake for most of the night. There's a sickening feeling that you hate. It eats you up, swallowing you whole. You know there's no other way. 

The morning of the third day awakens, the urge to hurl your stomach across the floor is more prominent. But you don't, mostly because you know that no one will care. You've given up on trying to spin straw into gold. If the cuts on your fingers said anything it would be to stop. Somewhere in your mind you're doubting yourself and you're doubting the choice you've made. However, you don't want to die and although you don’t want to admit it the demon sure is good looking. At least this way you'll be able to live. 

It's exactly when the sun sets that the demon appears. This time it's as if he's just woken up. Loose shirt that hangs off his frame, hair that looks as if he's just stepped out of a bath. You can see his defined abdomen through the white shirt and you can't help yourself when you stare. He doesn't have to say anything as he tilts his head, a growing smirk on his face. 

You take a deep breath. “I’ll accept.”

The demon’s eyes sparkle with victory and you hate it. “We’ll get started then.”

“Wait, what?!” Your eyes widen to the size of fists. “Why are you making this sound as if it’s a job?”

“Would you rather I treat you like my wife?” He raises his eyebrows at you expectedly and you suddenly feel embarrassed. 

“Well you could at least try to make yourself sound more seductive.” You scoff, gaining a little bit of confidence. “It’s like you’re not even trying.”

You watch as his eyes flicker back and forth from red to black. He walks closer, pinning you against the wall. There’s a faint smell of ash lingering on him and it somehow makes your thighs quiver. His nose nudges just below your ear and you close your eyes, feeling his hot breath graze your skin. 

He doesn’t say anything when he presses light, feathery kisses against your skin. You take a shaky breath, gasping when he starts moving his lips closer to your jaw. There’s a cocky look in his eyes when you meet them and you resist the urge to let out a sound of pleasure. When he pulls away, leaving you breathless, you try to rearrange your thoughts.

“Is that how you like it?” He pushes his tongue against his cheek. No words leave your lips so you nod dumbly. “It’s your first time isn’t it?” Again you nod causing him to let out a primitive growl. “I’ll try to take it easy, no promises angel.”

It happens too quickly and you don’t have time to catch your breath before his lips are crashing onto yours. They’re plump and soft and you could taste a hint of sweetness. You find yourself wondering what to do for a while but your worries are extinguished when he grabs your hands, throwing them over his shoulders. He pulls you closer and you melt against him.

All previous anxious thoughts about what you were going into were erased. His tongue flicks over your bottom lip and it tangles with yours. You feel yourself growing wet, panties sticking. It only shocks you more when his large hands come up to caress your cold skin, the difference in temperatures makes you shiver. You whimper when he pulls away. Your mind is foggy and filled with desire. 

He presses his forehead against yours, slipping your dress off. The cold air hits your skin with his touches lighting parts of your body on fire. His fingers travel down to your waist like little butterflies. They seem to dance across your soft skin. Slowly, he slides a finger through your folds, gathering your arousal between his fingers. You hold back your sounds of pleasure, afraid the guards would hear.

“Don’t do that.” He whispers, breath fanning across your face. Even though it’s quiet you can’t help but find him so seductive, so entrancing. It’s like he knows the effect he has on you as he rubs your sensitive bud. "They can't hear you, magic remember." 

You let out a small moan when his finger enters inside you. The stretch isn't much but it still has you squirming whenever he would prod a place that you could never reach. He bends down, attaching his lips to your clit, placing gentle kisses. He inserts another finger with ease, your velvet walls clamping around him and he starts pumping his digits inside you. 

"Feel good?" He murmurs against your hot skin, the ministrations vibrating through your body. It takes you by surprise when he curls his fingers, pressing down. "So pretty. Such a pretty pussy." He places a gentle kiss in your glistening folds and you whimper. You lace your fingers through his hair, gasping for air when he licks. 

Your chest heaves up and down, loving the way his tongue laps at your core, fingers moving, and a feeling filling you up in what could only be described as pure euphoria. The rhythm he’s moving at is slow and steady, with his wet muscle accompanying him it’s more than enough. You grip onto his hair as you let out a breathless whine, being unable to call him by his name only has you pleading in a different way. 

He looks up at you, fluttering lashes making him look almost angelic except he is sucking at your clit, tongue and fingers pleasuring you. “You’re holding onto me awfully tight, darling.” 

“Sorry.” You let your hands fly off his hair causing him to chuckle. He continues his movements and you’re reduced to a pile of pants. You smooth his hair from above, making sure not to tug too hard. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Don’t worry.” His eyes turn red. “I’m a demon, remember?”

It makes you hold his shoulders tightly when he prods his wet tongue as you keen at his touch, spreading your legs wider. You can feel his smirk against your core and you inhale sharply when he adds another digit, stretching your tight pussy out more. 

Every single sensation, every single movement has you moaning in his grasp, there isn’t a time where you didn’t feel good. The way he’s able to make your pleasure climb is unbelievable and at the same time you want more. 

There’s a new feeling that starts to build up when he thrusts his fingers harder, tongue continuing to play with your delicate clit. It has your mind blanking and you try to hold yourself still. He watches as your back arches and as your body writhes and twists at the uncontrollable desire that coursed through your body. There’s something about you that has him thrusting his fingers faster, eager to let you have your release. 

Your legs tremble and you feel yourself giving away. The newfound feeling washing over you like a tidal wave and it has you letting out a loud gasp as you throw your head back. All he does is watch, your tight pussy pulsing around his fingers, cum dripping out. You’re gasping, heaving for air as you feel your lungs burn. He laps it up, loving the way you taste and suddenly you’re all too aware of the mess you had created.

You don’t have words, all you can do is let out multiple sounds, all of which are filled with lust. He keeps working his fingers, thumb finding your folds, this makes you pant at the sensitivity, the mere feeling of being overstimulated puts your mind in a haze. He loves your reactions, the way your body twitches at his light touches to the way your voice sounds when you’re moaning. Albeit, his name never leaves your perfect lips but the way you’re submitting to him is more than enough.

He yearns for another orgasm, pushing you and your tight little pussy, trying to achieve something that he knows you can. It doesn’t take long for another gush of cum to come flowing out of you, your lips parted as you let out a silent scream. He lets you rest for a minute, focusing on licking up every drop of cum. Hush tongue pokes and prods, gently massaging itself on your pussy. Your fingers tangle in his hair once more, letting yourself succumb.

You lie, lungs desperate for air. It’s something you've never experienced before and now that you have, you crave for it. You cast a glance at the demon, his hair, now a mess, in between your legs.

“C-Can I…” You trail off, not sure how to phrase what you want. “Can I…”

He seems to know what you’re trying to say because he has a smug grin that’s overtaking his face as he crawls closer to your worn out body. 

“You can say it. Be a good girl and use those words.” His voice is deep and there’s an underlying hint of raspiness that has you feeling all sorts of emotions. Your cheeks light on fire when he licks a long stripe up your drenched core.

"C-Can I have your cock…?" You mumble under your breath. 

He grins, finding your answer satisfying. There isn’t a second that’s wasted as he lines his hard throbbing dick with your pussy. You nibble at your bottom lip, casting an anxious glance at him. He smiles gently, whispering that he isn’t going to do you any harm. You let out a strangled cry when he pushes in. The feeling is much different to his fingers, the girth so much thicker and you can feel the way it’s so slowly filling you up as you gasp for air. He stops for a moment, letting you adjust.

“You okay?” He asks, warm hands massaging your hips as you squirm above him. “I’m not going too fast?”

For a soul sucking creature he sure is awfully nice. You shake your head, eyes pleading for him to move. “I’m okay.”

His movements start off slow at first, pushing in and out at a steady pace. It still makes your body fill with desire and you gasp whenever he thrusts in. It’s when he picks the pace up, sliding faster, hips snapping to yours. He’s growing rougher and you love it, voice begging for more and more. Every moan and whimper that leaves your lips is accompanied by a praise from the demon as he fucks you to heaven.

The way his cock stretches you out and the way your walls clamp around him. Every single thing is something you could never dream of. His cock pulsed inside your gummy walls and your hands clawed at his back, desperate to grip onto him for support. Various sounds are elicited out of you and the demon grunts from above. You can see the bead of sweat dripping from his forehead, eyes dark as the night but they hold so much passion. 

“Feel good angel? Got such a loud pussy on you, you hear that?” The wet lewd sounds fill your ears and you try to focus but all you can hear is the continuous pounding as his cock plunges into your pussy. “She’s just so loud isn’t she? Nasty pussy.”

His words have you reeling and you gasp at every thrust. You babble and scream at the sheer fullness of his cock as it fucks you deeper and deeper.

“A-Ahh! Shut u-up, ‘s embarrassing.”

The demon only grins at your words, cooing softly as you flush from heat. His thrusts quicken as he pounds into you harshly. It’s your first time but he feels as if he’s wrecked you multiple. He feels as if the world’s in his hands as your walls pulsate around his cock. You writhe around below him, moans escaping your beautiful lips, each one growing more and more erotic. He’s already decided he loves seeing you desperate and powerless beneath him, grinding your hips against his.

“You’re such a dirty girl aren’t you?” His voice is deep, laced with menace. He loves the expressions you make, the way you react to the most littlest of things, the way your body is so sensitive. A mere touch can light sparks inside of you. He leans down to whisper in your ear. “But you’re my dirty girl.”

Every word that comes out of his mouth never fails to make your stomach light aflame. You gasp and squirm, hands automatically finding the way to his broad shoulders. You hold onto them as he fucks into you. The demon’s mouth crashes onto yours, swallowing every one of your sinful sounds. His fingers massage the supple flesh of your breasts, cupping them in one hand as they bounce. His thumb brushes over your sensitive nipple, causing your body to jolt in surprise. 

“Taking me so well.” He watches, amazed, at how your pretty pussy sucks his cock in. You whimper at his praise, sparks igniting within you, something you’ve never felt before. “Tell me how well you take me.” He smirks as he notices how you divert your eyes.

You don’t respond and when you look back you see his eyes narrow at your reluctance to speak. Before you know it he’s lifting your legs higher, his cock reaching deeper. A moan leaves your lips as you struggle to comprehend what is happening. Your mind is hazy and your mouth is open, saliva trickling down your chin.

“I asked you a question slut.”

“So well. So so so well, I take you s-so well, nghhh, oh my god!” You pant under your breath, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. His thumb and forefinger come up to grip your chin, pulling you closer to him. 

“Repeat that for me, darling.” 

You search his eyes but you find nothing but lust and desire. He grins wickedly, cock thrusting into you harshly. You can feel every inch of him, every pulsating vein that carves into your walls. You gulp, wide eyes never blinking as you stare at him. “My pussy t-takes you so well, mmphh, so so well. Need it deeper, please please please, feels s-so good.””

The words make the demon feral and you feel yourself seeing the stars at the sheer force. He fucks you even harder, grinning as you thrash against his grip. The fire in your body continues to spread, heat swallowing you whole, refusing to let go of you. You throw your head back, little soft moans escaping your delicate lips as you buck your hips up to his, desperate to cum. The tainted sight of your body in his arms makes him groan. Your once bare neck is now littered with bruises that he created. The mark of his. The demon loves knowing that your innocent being is now stained with his essence, one that will stay there forever.

“I’m c-close…” You manage to get out between pants, beads of sweat rolling down your forehead. You squeeze around his cock, making him growl. “I’m s-so close!”

“Yeah.” He grunts, quickening the pace of his hips, cock sliding in and out faster than ever. You screw your eyes shut, digging your nails into his back and he hisses. “C’mon angel, cum for me, be a good girl.” He purrs.

Who are you to decline his order? 

“Ah ah ah! I-I’m gonna cum, gonna cum so much! F-Feels so so good, hnngh, gonna cum gonna cum.”

The fire inside of you finally bursts, dying embers rain down upon you, your orgasm wracking through your body, every tingle ricocheting off your bones. Your body spasms around his cock, and your cum flows out of your pussy, creaming on his cock. The many mutters of pleasure that leave your mouth are far louder than you expect and you find yourself letting out a strangled scream.

The demon’s cock is still pounding into you and soon warm cum floods your walls, mixing with your own. The warmth spills into your hot core and suddenly you feel so full, not like anything you’ve ever felt like before. His cock is still inside and the movements gradually slow down to a stop. He presses his sweaty forehead against yours and you feel your heart beat faster. You see how his hair, now damp, sticks to his head, eyes twinkling like stars.

You hiss, wincing when he pulls out. The strange feeling of emptiness is one that you’re not used to. The demon hushes your cries with his lips, smoothing our hair down with his hand. He snaps his fingers and suddenly there’s a warm knitted blanket wrapped around your body. The sticky feeling is no more and you feel more comfortable with the wool around your shoulders. He watches as you nod off, eyes drooping and you faintly hear soft words being sung and though you can't make out the exact lyrics of the song you know it’s something you want to hear over and over again.

When you wake up the next morning, the demon's gone and he leaves a pile of sparkling gold coins. Each of them look brighter than the next. They could buy a house for a family. But it's not the gold coins that keep your attention, it's the memory of last night that sticks to your mind. You remember the way he had sung you to sleep and the way his voice sounded so beautiful, so euphoric. 

You remember the way he had cleaned you up afterwards, tending to you with utmost care that you had nearly forgotten what he was. And even though there are parts of last night that send tingles up your spine, it was what happened after that made your cheeks heat up and your heart go fuzzy. The wool, knitted blanket has fallen to your lap and you clench it in your hand. It’s so soft and you wrap it around you, inhaling the comforting scent.

It saddens you a bit when you realise he's not there when you wake up, but you have no time to dwell because you can hear the door open. You hurry to shuffle back up, quickly stuffing the blanket to one corner in order to not arouse any suspicion. You don’t say a word when the guards step in. They look unbothered at first but once they catch sight of the gleaming gold where the straw once was, their eyes widen. When their gaze lands on you, you look down, afraid that they would see through you and your lies.

There are hush whispers that are exchanged between them and you briefly hear the words ‘his highness’. You force the lump in your throat to go down, hoping that he will release you. A few minutes go by before Kael comes bursting through the doors, eyes filled with rage. You’re scared. You did what he asked, why is he angry?

A flitting thought passes by that he knows that you had made a contract with a demon crosses your mind however you shake it out. Demons keep their contracts extremely confidential and they make it their pride and honour to withstand that.

“You!” He seethes, lunging for your neck. “How did you do it?!” His grip on your neck isn’t too tight but it’s tight enough that it hurts and you aren’t able to speak. It’s like he reads your mind as he immediately releases his grasp, throwing you onto the floor.

You let out a few coughs, rubbing your sore neck. 

“Tell me how you did it?” 

“I did as you asked, straw into gold, now set me free.” You don’t bother to look him in the eye. 

There's a momentary silence that fills the room and the guards exit without being told. Kael stares down at you, his grey eyes looking like a raging storm. “Free?” He lets out a laugh. “You don’t get to be free until I say so, love.”

You open your mouth in protest but close it when you see his hand rest on the sword by his side. Your blood boils and you keep yourself from lashing out, not wanting to be slain on the spot. Fine, if he wants you to spin straw into gold once more, you will. He has to let you free. 

“It seems as if three nights is much too generous and this mere pile of straw.” He picks up the gold, inspecting it as if it was dirt instead of money. “But I'm not cruel, I'll give you the same amount of time to spin double the amount. The guards will deliver the straw later in the afternoon, I expect you know what happens if you don’t succeed.”

He leaves, not sparing a glance as he struts away. Not cruel? Not cruel?! He's delusional if he thinks he isn't cruel. You sit still, thoughts processing in your mind. The guards don’t say anything as they relock the door. 

The afternoon comes by sooner than you expect and you watch as another batch of straw is wheeled in. This batch is twice the size of the first one, it covers most of the space in the room. You feel your hopes start to dwindle, wondering if the demon will show up tonight, like he did before. 

What if it was a one time thing?

As the hours go by, with no sign of a demon appearing, you start to accept your fate. The sun has already set and the moon is high in the sky. You are sure the hour is late and your eyes are starting to get heavy with sleep. Everything’s so tiring and with all the newly added stress it’s nice to finally get a rest. Pulling out the blanket you wrap it over your shoulders, shuffling to adjust into a comfortable position.

There’s a loud crackle when you let your eyes close and they flicker back to life. The demon is standing in front of you, clothes tinged with smoke and there’s a little fire that he tries to pat it down. He’s cursing at the dying embers and you let a little giggle slip past your lips.

You let a tired smile take over your face, whispering softly. “Hi.”

He looks up at you and an expression of worry crosses his face. “Have you been waiting for me all night?” You nod, slowly finding yourself drifting away. He approaches you, sitting down beside your body. He leans your head on his shoulder, letting you rest. “Go to sleep, you deserve it.”

With his words you finally let yourself snuggle up to him, eyes fluttering shut. Your mind is already asleep as you shuffle around, trying to get into the best position. He looks at you, peacefully sleeping next to a monster who could suck your soul any second now yet he doesn’t, and he won’t. 

Soon, he feels his eyes start to droop and his head bobs up and down from sleep. The darkness envelops his sight as he feels your heart beat steadily against his chest. And slowly he drifts off as well, the two of you lying, snuggling for warmth as the moon rises higher. A pair of dark eyes watch the pair and the demon is too absorbed in sleep to notice the way the dark orbs flicker with fire and how they narrow. Then they're gone, disappearing in the dark sky, only traces that they leave behind is the scent of burnt cedar and bitter blueberries.

You awake the next morning to feel a heavy sensation on top of you and you lazily open your eyes, bleary from sleep. The rays of sunshine come through from the tiny window of air you're given. You see things sideways and you're wondering why until you catch sight of the arm around your waist and the scent of musky pine and vanilla. You scramble to sit up straight and feel your cheeks flush when you realise you've been lying on the demon's shoulder for the whole night. 

He looks beautiful.

Moving as slowly and quietly as possible, you lift his arm, trying to wriggle free from his grasp. It doesn’t work though because the demon’s awoken and he stares at you with bleary, sleepy eyes. You clear your throat, shuffling away from him.

“Good morning to you too.” He yawns, running his long fingers through his hair. 

“Did you stay here for the whole night?” 

He blinks. “Well, human, if I’m here right now I suppose that proves your statement correct, doesn’t it?”

You feel your cheeks heat up at the bluntness. “I’m sorry I think I should have phrased that better, why did you stay here the whole night?” 

This time he flushes, a subtle light pink dusting the apples of his cheeks. He shuffles awkwardly, avoiding your eye contact before whispering something that you can’t quite catch. 

“Can you repeat that?”

“I said.” He huffs. “I stayed because I was tired and...and because I wanted to.”

A small smile reaches your lips and you stifle your giggles at his flustered state. The demon meets your eyes and the two of you don’t break each other's gazes. Everything seems to break away in that moment and you forget the predicament you’re in, preferring to find solace in the creature in front of you. 

He’s the first one that looks away, prompting you to do as well. Your heart’s beating at an abnormal pace and your breath hitches when he pulls you closer towards him. His eyes fix on your neck and you’re unsure why until you remember the events of what happened yesterday. You shrink back as much as you can, Kael can't have gripped you that hard, can he?

"Did that bastard do that?" He grits his teeth and you see his eyes flash red. 

"It's honestly nothing, I'm fine, nothing wrong." You try to reassure him, pushing his hands off your neck. He frowns, tracing his fingers over your throat and you gulp at the soft touch. "W-What are you doing?" You stutter, suddenly nervous at his actions.

He doesn't say a word, finger gliding across your skin. He presses over the place Kael had gripped on your neck. A cool sensation rushes through your body and up to your neck and you suddenly feel much more revived. It feels like ice has just been applied and you see a hint of blue light flash before your eyes, a glowing circle and it bursts raining soft feathers around you. A refreshing scent of mint and the ocean breeze greets your senses and it's so relaxing. The demon smiles. You don't even realise that your eyes are closed until you open them and you see blue sparks, that indicate healing powers, flickering in his palm before it extinguishes.

"What? Demons can have healing abilities, we're not entirely evil." 

Now that your eyes are open you realise how close he is to you and your heart picks up again. Your eyes betray you and flicker down to his cherry red lips, ones that you're so desperate to kiss. The demon notices the way you look at him and he too tries not to let his urges take over.

"That's...cool." You're searching for something to say and when each word comes out of your mouth he can't help but look. "Can I ask for your name?"

This causes him to pull back immediately, he flinches as if he's been burnt with hot iron. Your eyes widen when you register what you had just asked. You're spluttering for an apology, trying to grab your words because you somehow think you've offended him but the demon just stares at you blank-faced. 

"You know I can't tell you." 

You pause before you hang your head in shame. "Yeah, I know."

"I can allow you anything but that."

And yet that's the only thing you want to know. 

"Well then…" You let your eyes drift to the pile of straw in the room. "I'm sure you've seen that."

"Yeah." He chuckles. "Need my help?"

You swallow the large lump in your throat, nodding your head. He grins as he approaches you and you back up against the wall. "Can there be a change though?" 

"Name it."

"Can I make you feel good?"

That's what makes the demon stop in his tracks, eyes widening. He coughs, spluttering for words. Everything he wants to say, or plans, has flown away and he can only stare at you, blinking like an owl. He can't help the thoughts that invade his head and he watches as you shrink back even further and he wants nothing more but to ruin you. Eventually, after you wave your hand in front of his face, he regains himself, clearing his throat.

"Are you going to make me repeat it…?" He hesitates for his answer and you don’t know if it’s because he’s nervous or he simply has nothing to say. “Actually you know what, it’s fine-” 

You stop, words stuck in your throat as he comes impossibly close to you. His eyes are so big as they stare at yours and you don't feel nervous, or the jitters. You feel calm. More than calm. When his lips press onto yours you can’t help but melt under him and it's soothing, maybe because you've already kissed him but every action feels familiar. 

His hands wander and you let him cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer towards him. The warmth spreads through your body and you tangle your fingers through his dark locks. You shift on the floor and his hands slip the straps of your dress below your shoulders. Goosebumps follow the trail his lips leave and you let out a quiet moan.

“You’re driving me insane.” He murmurs against your skin, hot breath fanning across your flesh. He locks eyes with you and You whimper softly feeling the weight of his gaze. Your eyes widen when he stands up to his full height and you suddenly feel intimidated by how he’s towering over you. "Fucking love it."

You watch as he unbuckles his belt, eyes fixated on the growing bulge. Your head spins in circles. Every kiss makes the darkness beneath your eyelids burst with colour. Your dress is long forgotten on the floor and all you can focus on is the pretty thing right in front of your face. His cock is red and it's throbbing as he strokes his hand over his length. You can’t help but stare in wonder.

"Open your mouth, angel." 

You obey, pretty lips taking his cock into your mouth and he groans. His fingers trace circles at the back of your neck and you peer up at him, long lashes fluttering against your smooth cheeks. He coos, stroking a large hand before cupping your face.

Curses leave his pretty lips, falling off his tongue and you watch his expression contort into one of pure ecstasy as you continue your movements. You pump his cock with your hands, tongue swirling around the head. You're not entirely sure what you're doing and you're doing what you feel is right. Sure enough the demon is squirming and moaning above you, urging you to go faster. You comply, pulling away to ask if you're doing okay and he wordlessly nods, pushing you back down.  

"Pretty girl, my pretty whore." He grins wickedly and you feel your pussy clench at the degrading term. "You like that? You like me calling you a dirty whore? That's what you are. My. Fucking. Whore." 

He punctuates each word with a thrust and you're rendered speechless, eyes rolling backwards into your skull. You're whimpering around him, tears collecting at your eyes and you plead at him desperately. Salvia drools from your lips, painting his cock with wetness. You know it’s messy but you don’t care. 

"Look at you." He coos, fingers wrapping around your jaw as he tugs you to look at him. "A mess around my cock. You asked for this angel." 

A warm feeling pools at the bottom of your stomach and it intensifies. You flutter your eyelids shut, enjoying the way you're being ruined. Each thrust of his hips into your mouth makes your body crumble, the arousal coats your pussy and you clench your thighs together. Your throat feels tight and your lips are permanently wrapped around his cock. You continue to bob your head up and down and each time the demon jolts his hips you’re hit in the back of your throat making you moan around his length. 

“So so so pretty, fffuckk, your mouth feels so good. You’re such a fucking whore, I’m gonna ruin this little mouth, fill it up with my cum.” 

You whimper at the thought. The feeling in your stomach only grows and you start to feel wet. Spit falls from your mouth and your whole body feels as though it’s on fire. There’s the same need and urge that you felt the other day and you’re desperate to release yourself to the desire that pools within you.

The demon above only groans at every lick and suck you give him. You watch as his face contorts, watching every expression with scrutiny. You watch as he squeezes his eyes shut, throws his head back and you watch the plushy lips part open as a guttural moan is released. 

Cum trickles into your mouth and your eyes widen at the hotness that spreads across your tongue. You swallow every last drop and the taste seeps into your mouth. It’s not entirely bitter yet it’s not sugary sweet either. A taste you can’t exactly pinpoint but you know that you would never get enough of. The demon watches starry-eyed at your obedience and he groans, tugging at your hair. He bucks his hips, murmuring praises under his breath. You smile when he places a light kiss to your lips and you feel yourself light aflame. It's a strange feeling and the kisses he litters in your body are gentle and sweet. Your name slips from his lips, soft and comforting and his eyes seem to twinkle and you feel yourself falling and falling. 

It's as if time stands still. The hours drag on and you thoroughly enjoy the time spent with the demon. He proves to be better company than you could have hoped for. Conversation mixed with humour lightens the mood and despite there being certain topics that aren't one to discuss, the two of you make do. You're still wary, keeping your guard up in case of anything and you suspect he knows as he doesn't prod your boundaries as such.

A day, free from worry, is one you bask in. The demon doesn't know what it is but something about you draws him in. Something about your curious eyes and joyful smile lights something within him. He has a vague idea of what it might be but it's impossible but he can't help but find himself feeling it anyway. 

But he knows the consequences will come. Sooner or later. And he hopes later. 

The land of Karnopia is vast and grand. Stretching far and wide, its borders seem to fade into infinity, concealing untold horrors within its depths. Here, amidst the desolate silence, the greatest concentration of demons known to existence find their domain. It’s silent and there’s only the soft crackling of dying embers that could be heard. It’s dark and gloomy, no light could be seen. Not many voices are ever heard and even if they are they would be screams of anguish and agony. 

"I see you're back, Satoru." A man with ghostly pale skin and shocking black hair remarks, his attention momentarily torn from his magazine as the demon enters the house. "You're returning later and later. This wouldn't have anything to do with that human girl you've contracted with, would it?"

“What’s it to you?” Satoru's lip curls in a snarl, his teeth bared defensively. He realises too late that his reaction betrays his vulnerability, a fact not lost on the man before him.

The man's grin widens at Satoru's response. "Ah, it seems I've struck a nerve. Could it be that poor Satoru has fallen in love?"

Satoru’s cheeks heat up, tinting with a soft pink flush. The memory of your bright smile and the sound of your melodic voice linger in his mind, stubbornly refusing to fade. With you, there's no clear boundary between contractor and demon; it's as if all his defences have crumbled in your presence, a vulnerability he knows is dangerous.

"Shut up." 

The demon's eyes flicker ominously, shifting from their usual dark blue hue to a fiery red. With a dismissive gesture, he discards the magazine and advances toward Satoru, his strides purposeful and unsettling.

"You do realise," He begins, his voice dripping with malice. "that if you've truly fallen for her, you're paying a higher price than she is." His words hang heavy in the air, laden with a warning that sends a shiver down Satoru's spine. "You're putting yourself in danger, as well as her. Her life can be snuffed out with ease. His Majesty won't take kindly to this."

“My father doesn’t like anything I do, so there isn’t a point.” Satoru snaps back, shrugging his jacket off, making his way up to his room. “And I know what I’m risking.” He doesn’t say more as he trudges upstairs.

There is no more to be said and the black-haired demon can do nothing but sigh, hoping his friend truly had everything under control. If Satoru's feelings for you are genuine, it could spark a conflict that would tear their world apart. A war that will divide everyone. 

Satoru slams his door shut, leaning against it as he exhales a shaky breath. His room, in stark contrast to the rest of the house, is a sanctuary. Dim light filters through heavy curtains, casting soft shadows that dance across the walls. It’s here, in the privacy of his own space, that he allows himself to think of you freely. His mind drifts back to the last time he saw you, the way you looked at him with such trust and affection. It’s a rare and precious thing for a demon to experience, and it’s something he treasures more than his own life.

Somewhere far away you lie, peacefully sleeping, not knowing that your demon was still awake, replaying the words he had heard. If his feelings are true he knows nothing good will come of this and all he hopes is that you will be safe. 

It’s weird to say the least. 

Lately, the demon’s been visiting you more often than expected. Usually it’s on the days you need help but now, he arrives at the crack of dawn and stays till the sun sets. You don’t know how long it’s been that you’ve been trapped. You don’t complain because, as much as you hate to admit it, you've grown accustomed to him. Dare say you like his company. It makes the cold cell more warm when he’s around. He doesn’t do much but talk and most of the time the two of you sit in comfortable silence. 

You still don’t know what to do. Or what Kael will do. He hasn't come to visit and you’ve been locked up for a couple of days since he came. You hope he’s forgotten about you but you doubt that was the case. 

It scares you when you think about it so you try not to give it much thought. You indulge yourself in thinking what Rei and Ayato would be doing right this moment. Home is something you think about often and it’s impossible not to feel sad about it. The demon’s here though, he makes things better even if it’s by a little bit.

“So you’re a perfumer?” He frowns. “Don’t you normally earn lots of money with that? How are you not...well, you know?” 

“Rich?” You scoff light-heartedly. “To get rich you need a business, silly, and to get a business you need some sort of advertisement that boosts the popularity of your product. However, no noble will buy my perfume considering my status in the kingdom.” You sigh, shrugging. “It’s just how life is. I’m perfectly content with just selling it to the people around in the village.”

“Yet you don’t want the world to know of your talent?” The demon snorts. “If I had such skills I would be raking in coins every day and feeding myself till I’m full.” He pauses, creasing his brow. “And I think it’s stupid how the nobility look down when they do nothing but sit on their ass all day.”

You let out a laugh at his statement, nodding your head in agreement. 

The loud thundering sounds of footsteps stop your slight happiness and once again you’re thrown into a pot of fright. You turn to tell the demon to go but he’s already gone so you busy yourself to pretend you are sleeping. The door slams open and you can feel the heat of the candle above your face. You tell yourself not to move. Not to make a sound, steadying your breathing. 

“Wake up.” A low voice grunts and you keep your eyes shut, hoping that they’ll go away if you feign sleep. “Wake up bitch.” A swift kick is delivered to your stomach and you cough at the impact, wincing as you grip your wounded body. 

“No need to kick the dog Derek.” A voice drawls from the side and you look up to see two guards, grinning like sharks. “We don’t want the pretty lady to have scars now.”

A hand reaches to grab your face and you push away, determined to resist the vile touch. The man’s silver hair is pushed back and he leans his face to yours. Your eyes are wide and you urgently try to get free.

“It’s a shame.” Derek sneers. “The King always brings such beautiful women but never lets us have a taste.” His tongue flicks over his lips and you hold in a shriek. 

Suddenly, a force whips both men off their feet and they’re on the ground before you can blink. You scramble away, free from the guards grasp and you feel an invisible hand caress your shoulder soothingly and you know who it is.

“What the fuck?!” The guard by the door says, holding his head as he gets back up. “The hell?!”

And then there’s a freezing temperature that sets in the room and the two guards' eyes go misty. Their bodies stand still, dropping their weapons as they slump like their ragdolls. You shuffle back until you hit the warm back of your demon.

“Shhh.” He whispers. You whip around to see him behind you, sparkling scarlet eyes. He beckons you over and you follow. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Warmth fills you and you try to maintain your rapidly beating heart. “Calm down darling.” His nose brushes the shell of your ear as his hot breath flicks over your face.

You watch the guards turn away and march like robots as they lock the door once again. They don’t acknowledge you or the magical being behind you. The room then returns to its normal state and you turn to see that the demon’s eyes have gone back to the black it once was.

You’re shaken to say the least. The demon takes his hand off you but you reach for it, gripping onto it for dear life as you snuggle back into him. He chuckles but lets you stay as he props his chin onto your head.

“Thank you.” You mumble.

The demon picks you up and lays you down so you’re facing the ceiling. He lifts your dress and you splutter, confused. He only puts a finger to your lips as he examines your bare stomach. The pain of the kick is still there and he lets his hand press down on the spot and you hiss. He whispers sorry before rubbing your wound.

You let your eyes flutter shut and they snap open when he gives you a kiss on the lips. You melt into him, moving your lips against his. Your heart is racing and you wrap your thighs around his waist, trying to pick yourself up but his hand pushes you down.

“You’re injured.” He merely says and his kisses start to trail down, across your breasts down to your stomach where he makes sure to take extra care. You squirm as if his lips are burning iron and your skin is ice. His eyes stay locked with yours as he continues to travel down. 

You pant as he kisses your core, licking through the fabric of your panties. You were already so wet and his tongue only made your body jolt with pleasure. You squeal as he pushes the flush fabric to the side to devour you. His fingers rest at your hips and you reach down to take his hand into yours. It’s as if sparks are flying everywhere and you whimper helplessly. 

“You’re so pretty Y/n.” He repeats, deepening the movements of his tongue. Each flick has you moaning with pleasure. You squeeze his hand, pussy clenching at the overwhelming heat as it overtakes your body.

"I could say the same for you." 

A low chuckle emits from his throat and he continues the blissful torture while you fall apart. You squirm as he prods your bud, eliciting moans out of your mouth. He’s so skill full with his tongue, every movement has you begging for more. Your hands tangle through his hair, tugging the strands as you whine. 

“So so sooo good! Oh my god, feels so g-good.” Your words are incoherent, mixed in with moans and mewls as you babble on and on. “A-Ahh!”

“Satoru.” The name falls from his lips effortlessly and you barely register what he’s said until he repeats it again and then your foggy mind is cleared, realising what he’s done. “My name, say my name, f-fuckk.”

“B-But…”

“Say it angel, wanna hear it from your pretty mouth, beg me for me to let you cum.”

You gasp when he thrusts his tongue inside you, making you fall apart as he laps greedily at your cunt.

“S-Satoruuu!” You let out a strangled gasp when his fingers press against your clit. He draws tiny circles, eliciting the most delectable sounds from your body. “Satoru ‘s so good, feels amazing, Satoru Satoru Satoru.” 

You chant his name like it’s the only thing you know how to do. All this time you had always secretly wanted to know who this demon was and now you did you couldn’t help but cling onto him desperately. His name was so pretty and you knew he would have you screaming it even louder soon enough.

Satoru groans at your words, the vibrations ricochet through your body and you squeak at the sensation. He slides his fingers through your soaking folds, engraved at the way his saliva coated you. There’s a mixture of spit and your arousal and Satoru can’t seem to get enough. He savours your sweet honeyed taste, watching as you spasm and thrash above him. He loves looking at you, seeing what reactions he could get out of you. 

“You’re so pretty, so so beautiful, god I could die happily with your pussy on my face.” The dirty words only make you wetter as you whimper at the vibrations that surge through your body. “You taste so sweet angel, f-ffuck, want more of you.”

There’s an undeniable mess between your legs that has been created and when you glance down to see the white-haired demon drinking you up as if you were the only thing able to quench his thirst, you can’t help but moan at the lewd sight. The noises fill your ears, the messy slurping and blissed out whines as you grip his hair. Your hips lift up, jutting yourself against his face as you rock your hips back and forth, feeling yourself getting closer and closer.

“Gonna cum gonna cum! F-Fuck ‘toruuuu!”

The nickname has Satoru going feral as he groans at your words, diving down to suck faster. His tongue thrusts in and out of you, fingers rubbing your clit harsher. He inserts two fingers into your sopping cunt, plunging them in and out as the delicious sounds amplify. You’re so wet and your arousal runs down his fingers, and Satoru can only watch in wonder as he laps greedily. You’re convulsing around him, screaming his anime over and over again while he ravages your body. Never in your life have you felt such intense pleasure and Satoru doesn’t stop. His movements are constant, low groans and moans that send electricity shooting up your body.

“C’mon angel, cum f’me, let me see this nasty pussy spray all over my face, wanna drink you up so baddd.” His voice is close to a whine and he’s just as fucked out as you as he begs you to release all over him.

Your mind is foggy, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull as you thrash violently as your orgasm bursts. You let out a strangled gasp as you felt liquid gush everywhere and suddenly the feeling of Satoru’s fingers and mouth are all too overwhelming. The sensation is raised to a hundred times more and you find yourself writhing with the utmost pleasure. His fingers swipe at your core and you see his face covered with your juices and you heat up, embarrassed at what you had just done. 

There’s a moment of silence before Satoru lets out a deep growl. His eyes darken and you feel your heart pick up while he stares at your spent pussy. You’re clenching around thin air and all the demon can do is watch as you heave breaths, forcing oxygen to fill your lungs as you try to calm down from your high.

“Give me another one.” He demands as he dives back down to make out with your pussy once more. His actions cause you to jolt, whining loudly at the sudden overstimulation. His breath is hot against your folds and you just melt at the way he consumes your cunt. “Want another one angel, g-god, want to taste you again and have you cover me in your cum, you’re s-so pretty wanna devour you so bad.”

Your noises die at your throat as you’re fucked stupid by his tongue. Your mouth is agape, tongue lolling out as you pant breathily. Satoru is relentless. He sucks and prods, urging you to release again. Tears leave your eyes and you feel yourself edge closer and closer. Your back naturally arches, pushing your hips forward as you feel your body get overtaken once again. Satoru whines against your cunt, lapping faster and faster until you’re gushing once more. He groans as you coat his face in a wet sheen. He’s slurping your juices messily, making sure none of it goes to waste. 

“Y-You’re so cruel…” You manage to breathe out as he finally lifts his head from in between your legs. There’s a smug smirk on his face and you see the playful glint in his sapphire eyes as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh. 

“What do you mean?” Satoru’s voice is faked to be innocent and you scowl at the tone. He merely giggles at your accusation, climbing up to give you a kiss and you moan into his mouth as you taste yourself through him. You feel yourself grow hot all over again as his hands wander to your tits, squeezing them gently. 

“You k-know what I mean.”

“Hmm, don’t think I do.” He murmurs, his lips grazing your skin as he places soft kisses along your collarbone. Each touch sends shivers down your spine, and his gentle sucking leaves red blooming marks in his wake. His hands wander over your body, fingers tracing delicate patterns that ignite a warmth within you. He moves slowly, savouring each moment as if he’s memorising every inch of you. The intimacy of the moment makes your heart race, your breath hitching in your throat.

“Satoru.” You whisper, your voice barely audible. His name feels like a prayer on your lips, a plea for something more.

He pauses, his dark eyes meeting yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. “Yes?”

You swallow hard, trying to find the words. “I... I need you.”

A slow, teasing smile spreads across his face. “Oh, I know.” His voice is dripping with a mix of confidence and tenderness. “And I’m right here.”

With that, he captures your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. It’s a kiss that speaks of longing and desire. You melt into him, your bodies fitting together perfectly as if they were made for each other. His hands slide lower, fingers dancing along the curve of your waist and hips. You respond eagerly, your own hands roaming over his body, feeling the hard planes of muscle.

“Tell me what you need.” Satoru whispers against your lips, his breath warm and tantalising.

“You.” You breathe, your voice trembling with desire. “Just you.”

He shifts, guiding you gently to lie back, his body pressing down against yours in a way that makes you feel both protected and desired. His kisses trail lower, down your neck and across your shoulders, each one igniting a new wave of heat within you.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He mutters against your skin, his voice a husky whisper. “You’re so beautiful, fuck, all for me.”

Your thoughts only become more feral once he pushes into your plushy pussy. His cock stretches you out and you already feel fucked out from the sheer size. Satoru groans as he buries his head into the crook of your neck. His hot breath tickles your skin and you squirm, desperate for him to start moving. There’s nothing more addicting than him and you found yourself begging for more, constantly calling his name as he ploughs into your pussy. 

“Such a wet cunt hngh - so tight and warm, fuck wanna have you all to myself angel. You’re mine, got it? All mine, gonna take you away from here and - and have you all to myself, nghh fuck Y/n-”

His cock bullies into your pussy, moulding your walls to fit him perfectly. He hits your cervix so beautifully that it has you writhing and arching. Each movement makes you tremble and shake and you cry out his name repeatedly. You watch as he fucks into you, turning you into a mushy lewd mess under him. His white hair falls into his eyes and you can’t help but think he’s so sexy as he moans. Your hands loop around his neck, pulling him closer towards you. 

Satoru feels so good. He thrusts into you faster, cock splitting you open over and over again. Each stroke reaches a new deep part of your body that you didn’t even know existed. His balls smack against your ass, the sound tainting your ears. His fingers dig into your hips, gripping them hard as he pounds into your tight cunt.

“A-Angelll stop squeezing me s-so tight hah fuck!” 

Satoru whines and you’re close to seeing stars as you unintentionally clench around his cock. He’s so alluring as he towers over you and strangely enough you feel heat blossom in your chest. 

“Satoru-” You gasp when you feel him kiss your neck. His teeth scratches your flesh and you squirm in his grip. “Satoru Satoru s-stopp ‘m gonna cum, please please please, ‘toru too much hnghh ‘s too much!”

“C’mon angel, doing so good f’me, such a good girl angel, cum around my cock wanna feel you s-so bad.”

When you look at the demon looming over you you don’t recognise the blushing fucked out face that’s begging you to release all over him. He’s chanting your name as his cock pounds into you. You feel the sensation in your stomach tighten and you moan. The tip of Satoru’s cock hits your cervix and every time it does it has you whining and thrashing.

Your breathing picks up and you grind your hips against his. You feel him throbbing inside you, and somehow his cock grows even bigger causing you to moan louder and louder. You’re so wet and Satoru stares at the way you suck him in deliciously. He loves to see the way you take him in and he’s enamoured at the sheer feeling you provide.

“Satoru I’m gonna cu- oh!” You don’t get to finish your sentence before you’re convulsing around his cock, squeezing him from all that he’s worth. Your pussy releases all over him, your juices coating his body and it’s like falling into a warm endless abyss. His name’s a broken cry on your lips as you cum around his cock. 

“Fuck fuck fuck angel g-god love your pussy s’much, I love you s-so much!”

And then Satoru’s tumbling over his release. He’s a moaning mess as spurts of cum flood your gummy walls. You feel so so full and you feel his seed drip down your thighs. His cock still sits snugly in your cunt as you pant breathily. Thick hot cum flows out your pussy as he slowly pulls out and you wince at the feeling. 

Satoru cages you between his arms and you see the way his chest rises and falls rapidly and how his lips are tinted just the slightest hue of pink. He’s so pretty and it’s almost impossible not to fall for him. The both of you lie in silence for a while, basking in the aftermath.

“Do you mean it?”

You look over to Satoru and the demon’s already looking back at you. His eyes were such a piercing blue but the eyes that once scared you now provided comfort and you feel your heart race as you watch him. 

“Mean what?”

“You know what Satoru.” The name is new on your tongue despite you chanting it just seconds ago. His name, the thing that no demon was allowed to give, is now yours. You like the way it rolls off your tongue with ease and when you observe him closer you see the way his ears have gone red and how his eyes dart everywhere. 

“And what if I do, what would that mean?”

Satoru looks away and you watch as he tugs his shirt over his body. His hands reach up to his hair as he brushes it out of his eyes and you sigh. There’s fragile silence that envelops you both.

“It would mean everything.” You whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “It would mean that this...whatever we have...is real.” Satoru's hands still, his fingers tangled in his hair. He turns to face you, his eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt or insincerity. 

“I don’t know when this happened.” You continued. “But somehow, for some reason, I’ve grown to be more attached to you. I can’t go a day without seeing your face and I certainly can’t go forever without meeting you again.”

Satoru’s eyes soften, and for the first time, you see a flicker of vulnerability in them. “Do you really mean that?”

“Of course I do.”

“So you also…you know…love me…” His voice is barely above a whisper and you giggle at his awkwardness. 

“Maybe a tiny bit.”

The demon scoffs rolling his eyes as he shuffles further away from you. “Fine then, just go stomp all over my feelings, cruel human.” There’s a mixture of annoyance and teasing in his eyes and you can’t help but smile.

“I’m only teasing Satoru-” And he’s right in front of you as soon as you say his name. You gulp at the close proximity and you feel your heart beat rapidly. “Why’re so close?”

“Say it again, please.” And you do, you say his name and he asks for it to be said again and again. You watch as each time you do his smile widens and you gasp when he pulls you close to his chest. “It sounds so pretty coming out from your lips.”

You feel a lump forming in your throat as you recall the moment he whispered his name to you. “Why did you do it? Why did you give me your name?”

“Because it felt right.” His reply is instant and you lift your head to look at him. “You make me feel things I’ve never felt before, something weird and…human I guess. But the feeling feels right and I know that giving you my name is the right thing to do. Plus, it sounds so perfect coming from you.”

Your heart flutters at his words and there’s mischief in his grin as he places a kiss on your forehead. Your hand reaches for his and you feel the sparks of electricity that pass between the two of you as you intertwine your fingers. A small smile makes its way onto your face and Satoru knows he’ll do anything for you for the rest of eternity.

“So when are you going to teleport me out of here?”

“Wow Y/n.” Satoru huffs out a breath immediately releasing his hands from yours. “Just using me for my powers now, I see.” You let out a laugh as you see the small pout forming on his lips and you can’t help but think he’s cute. Your laughter’s cut short as his hands grab your face, pulling you into a kiss. You melt into his embrace, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt, pulling him even closer. 

When he finally pulls away, you’re both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. His eyes are half-lidded, dark with desire, and a playful smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. “That’s payment, everytime I use my powers for you I require a kiss.”

You beam up at him, arms tugging him closer. “That’s a deal.” 

Your lips meet his and the two of you become lost in each other. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you even closer, and you can feel the warmth of his body seeping into yours. His taste is intoxicating, a mix of something sweet and something entirely Satoru. His hands cup your face, thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks, and you feel like you’re floating. As you pull back you can’t help but smile as the kiss lingers on your lips. 

“Where do you want to go?” Satoru asks.

“Anywhere, anywhere with you.”

Satoru grins as he kisses you again, short and sweet, before he tangles his hands with yours, hugging you close to his body. You close your eyes as you feel a rush of air brush past you. You grip onto Satoru tightly and you smile to yourself knowing that wherever he takes you, you’ll gladly follow because you’re his and he’s yours.

[fairysluna]

MASTERLIST | Aegon II Targaryen.

THE CONQUEROR'S CROWN (angst/smut)

After many years of secrecy, Aegon and Visaella's relationship was discovered just a few days before the Dance of the Dragons began, unleashing chaos and uncontrollable feelings that would do more harm than good.

INVISIBLE STRING - New Girl!AU (fluff)

A disastrous break-up led you to them; three guys living in a huge apartment and needing a new roommate who helped with the way too expensive rent.

THE SUMMER ISLANDS. (fluff)

In a failed attempt to escape, Aegon accidentally arrives on an unknown island where a lovely and lonely girl lives.

THE OTHER WOMAN. (angst)

Aegon was forced to marry Princess Elisa Martell to gain control of Dorne. While the princess is deeply in love with him, he is too busy having a not-so-secretive affair with the only daughter of the Master of Coin; Tyland Lannister.

WHAT SHOULD'VE BEEN. — EPILOGUE. (angst)

Aegon has always been in love with his loyal childhood companion, so when King Viserys proposed a betrothal between them, he was absolutely blissful with the idea, although his happiness wouldn't last long.

INFATUATION. (angst)

Aegon always had a few things that made him genuinely happy, and this pretty servant girl was one of them. However, the Gods seem to be eager to make his life miserable, for one day he sees all his future plans ruined by the intervention of others.

LASCIVIOUS CONTEMPT. (smut)

The rivalry that grew between Alicent and Rhaenyra has also grown between their eldest children. When Rhaenyra and her family return to King's Landing, they both know that the enmity is still there, but the new feeling that came along with it is quite unknown.

UNREQUITED. (angst)

Aegon was unable to keep his love for you a secret, but he did not expect you to shatter his heart into pieces after realizing you do not feel the same way.

Aegon interrupting his wedding for you.(fluff)

Aegon finds out you betrayed him. (angst)

Aegon noticing you've changed. (angst)

Giving Aegon an ultimatum. (angst)

Being Aegon's safe space. (fluff)

[chvnnie]

Hannie thoughts 🩷

He pursued you so sweetly and now you're expecting a sweet slow courtship. But now that he realizes just how into him you are, he takes full advantage. Rough in the bedroom confident Jisung. 😍 Y/n overwhelmed but secretly loves it.

“courtship” gave me royal vibes. soooOoOOOo

also idk why this is so long!!! im sorry!!! this concept got the best of me!!!

tell me you love royal aus without telling me 🫠

SMUT — MINORS DNI

The kingdom is lucky to have Jisung on their throne. Crowned as a mere teenager, nobody expected the Young King to thrive. What could he possibly know about ruling a kingdom? In three years time, they’ll lose all credibility, and he his head. Just watch; a boy cannot be King.

Within a year, all ill words spoken about the King were silenced. Charismatic, yet shy, he found his footing in royal life with ease. Leading council meetings, carefully listening and fairly judging every case brought to the court. Age is deceiving; the people haven’t had a leader of this quality in many, many years.

It wouldn’t be fair to say Jisung is just a good King. Even though ten years have passed since his coronation, he can still be found dressed in plain clothes without jewels or his crown, riding into town on his precious golden mare. She is cared for by his Hand, and best friend, as he walks the market.

Not a single stall is passed by him, even if the products are the same as the day before. Carefully, he will look over each and every item while making small talk.

“Alright this morning, Sir?”

“Is this a new recipe? The bread is sweeter than usual — it’s wonderful!”

“Oh my, your craft has improved greatly! I am impressed, keep at it!”

And then the King hands them exactly three gold coins even if he has no intention of buying anything. They’ll offer him something; a small item, or a piece of food, but he always denies it. A gift for them. Encouragement. Proof that he sees their skills and what they bring to the kingdom and is appreciative of it. It also reminds them that he truly cares about them as people. Without them, this city wouldn’t flourish the way it does.

Occasionally, he’ll buy something from the baker. He’s particularly fond of the blueberry poppy bread she makes. She’s a good woman; her husband fought hard and loyally for his father, and for that Jisung is eternally grateful for. Some weekends, he’ll visit her in her cottage. Have tea with her, listen to stories of her late beloved and all the great things he did in life.

She always gets five coins. But shush, don’t tell anybody.

At the end of the market is the only stall he’ll buy from everyday. Brown paper, pink twine, white daisies. The same thing, everyday. The florist always gives him a warm smile.

“How is she?”

And it brings a smile to The King’s face. The genuine care in their tones — because he genuinely cares.

“Well.” He digs in his coin purse, always pulling out too many coins. Just speaking about his love tinges his cheeks a dark pink. “As always.”

An exchange — coins, flowers. “When will you wed?”

“Shortly after my celebration day.” He denies the return of extra coins, as usual. “The autumn weather is her favorite.”

“Wish her well for me.”

“Of course.”

Jisung is a man of routine. Personal goodbyes to each and every merchant before he’s back on his horse. The sky is still pink when he’s back at the castle. The Hand takes his horse so the King can walk through the cool halls. Take the winding stairs up to the top level, where the royal family sleeps.

It used to just be him in this hall. Echoey, empty, reminding him of what price has to be paid for him to take the throne.

Not now, though. The room at the opposite end of the hall is now filled, well loved and used.

Taking a right from the staircase brings him to the door. Kindly dismissing the guard, the King knocks three times. A code; announcing himself without having to.

“Come in!”

The curtains are pushed open, fresh sunlight spilling in from the many windows. Yesterday’s daisies are in a crystal vase, sat on the table in the sitting area. Beautifully bloomed, the floral scent filling the golden room.

You’re by the biggest window, sat on the ledge. The glass is pushed open just slightly, letting the spring breeze cool your body. The dress you’re wearing is one of Jisung’s favorites; off the shoulder, a lavender color with little flowers stitched into the neckline with white thread.

The most beautiful soon-to-be Queen the land has ever seen.

“Good morning, petal.” The nickname rolls off his tongue. “Rest well?”

Closing the book, you nod. “And you, my dear?”

“All right.” Only a few steps away, he takes the bouquet out from behind his back and presents it to you. “For you. As always.”

Oh, the bright smile you give him. It’s like he’s falling in love with you all over again. Gracefully, you rise from your seat and take the fresh flowers, bringing to your nose to sniff.

“They’re lovely, Jisung. Thank you.”

Everyday, a peck to his cheek. Quick — you’re far too shy to linger. The King has a routine. So he turns his head just slightly, left side of his face presented to you. Ready to receive your gratitude.

The routine breaks. Swiftly, you walk past your fiancé, taking the flowers to the vase. Leaving him stunned.

Strange.

“I was wondering if today we might ride to the sea?” You don’t look to him as you speak — actually, it looks like you’re trying to hide behind the white flowers. “I’ve been a tad homesick.”

The steps he takes are cautious. “Of course.” Hesitance is laced in his tone. This isn’t your ordinary behavior. “What’s on your mind, darling?”

It’s like you’ve seen a ghost, blood running from your face and eyes widen. But in a snap, the expression is gone. “Oh, nothing. I want to write about the sea, you know how my brother loves it.”

Carefully, Jisung takes a seat on your velvet sofa. “Ah, yes. How is Seungmin?”

“His letters say he is well. The ocean is treating him nicely, though I wish he wouldn’t have chosen that path.”

Son and daughter of a prestigious family. One to be Queen, the other a runaway pirate.

“There’s always room for him in our kingdom. He would do well with us.”

You swallow dryly. What is happening? “The gracious and merciful Young King, what would this world be without you?”

Jisung can’t take this anymore. What has gotten into his beloved? Where is your head at? Grabbing your wrist, he pulls you away from the vase. Making you stand in front of him.

“Speak your worries.”

“I have none, Your Grace—“

“Though merciful, you know I hate to be made a fool.” His eyes narrow, but expression stays soft. “Love, let me help.”

You can’t meet his gaze, staring at the slit in your dress as you speak. “I’m afraid my thoughts are…doubtful.”

“Of?”

Finally, your eyes meet.

“Oh.”

What good is a crown? What good is a throne? What good is this kingdom if you are not by his side? Emotions tear at him, making his lip tremble despite his best efforts.

“Not of that kind.” You quickly reassure, catching the hurt on his face. “You are my love, Jisung. I would never want a life without you.”

“Good, good.” He won’t deny his worry. That isn’t fair to you. “Then what is it?”

Jisung thinks you’re precious. You still get so shy around him, even after years together. Especially when you want to express your feelings or ask for something.

Reassuringly, he rubs his thumb over the top of your hand, still caught in his. “You don’t have to—“

“I don’t want to wait any longer.”

The way you said it, so firm and confident. As if you’ve been pondering this, an opinion you’ve held for a while and are now sure of. The King is taken aback briefly, trying to figure out what your words mean.

“For the wedding?” It’s all he can come up with, but even he doesn’t sound too sure in it. “I’m sure we could plan it for the upcoming solstice, my love, if that’s what you desire.”

You shake your head quickly, and he can tell you’re starting to second guess saying it. “No, no. I want to wed in autumn. I don’t want to wait for you.”

What ever could you mean? Wait for him? Why, he’s right here. Touching you, speaking to you. Are you feeling ill? Those words make no—

Oh.

Oh, how he made himself the fool.

Suddenly, he’s in dire need of wine. Mouth dry, tongue heavy. Though he’s had many, many dreams of you in such a way, never would he push it on you. You felt as if your body was sacred, and he respected that. The King wants nothing but for you to feel comfortable and safe around him. If you were waiting for him, he would be waiting for you as well.

Sometimes the dresses you wear do drive him mad. Form fitting and hugging your curves, or with a lower neckline that he can see down at the right angle. Those have made it hard, and only starved him more. Like dangling bread in front of the hungry.

“Are you certain?” Jisung finally speaks, tone dropping several octaves.

You nod, softly wrapping your other hand around the one he has grasped. It’s so delicate, how you drop to your knees in front of him. Starry eyes blinking at him.

“More than, my King.” You bring the hands to your lips, soft kisses across his knuckles. “My patience is dry. I no longer want to wait for your love.”

“Rise.”

“What?”

“Your King gave you a command.” His demeanor changes like a switch, the feral need he’s drowned for so long rising to the surface. “Rise. No Queen of mine will ever kneel, even for me.”

Your eyes never leave his, standing up fully in front of him. He follows, using your hand as a guide up and into your body. A hand on the left side of your neck, fingers creeping into your perfectly combed hair. It’s used to bring your lips to his, properly kissing you.

Many kisses have been shared between you, but none like this. It’s intense, every pent up and buried feeling finding new life with the movement of your lips. It’s more addictive than the blueberry poppy bread from the baker, tongues desperate for the taste to linger. For the feelings to stay.

Loving you is a greater honor than the crown, the King is sure of it.

He curses your corset, making you giggle when he spins you gracefully to get a better look at it. The tugs on it are rough, eager to get the fabric off your body. Heavens, Jisung knows he loves this dress but does it have to be so dreadful to remove?

It’s too much. Your desires tangle with his own, sparking brighter than the jewels on the crown. Than the gold of coins. The energy it deepens the King’s decent — the hole you’re tumbling into doesn’t have a bottom.

Your nails rip his shirt, accidentally tangling the strings of his pants in your rush. There’s no grace in the first moments. Ready to see each other’s bodies, to touch, to taste. To be one.

The King tries his best to be gentle with you. To give you the sweetest kisses, careful touches. He’s heard stories, knows that it can be too much. The last thing he wants is for you to not find pleasure in this.

But, it can only last for so long. The breaking comes with he accidentally takes your breath away — truly, he didn’t mean to place his hand there. Apologies are ready to fumble out when he sees it.

The look you give him. Shocked, a little frightened. But excited.

Jisung never considered his ego very large, but he’s open to self reflection.

“Oh, petal, is this what you like?” He squeezes your throat, tips of his fingers digging into your soft skin. Though you nod, there’s no real need for an answer. He can feel it in the clench around his cock, the legs hooked around his waist pulling him closer. With a dry laugh, he picks up the pace of his hips. Fucking you hard enough the bed is becoming unstable. “I have to admit my surprise. The shy, gentle Queen likes to be fucked like a common whore.”

As soon as the words leave, he feels a tinge of regret. What harsh words to say to someone he loves—

Do his eyes deceive him? You’re whimpering, nodding your head. Unable to speak from the lack of air, but in full agreement.

Heavens. The King is done for.

“I’m sure they’d be glad to have you at the brothel.” Control is lost, the wooden frame starting to crack under the King’s intense movements. “Let the people have a taste of the King’s favorite cunt.”

“N-no.” You seem to speak. “Only y-you—“

“Aw, don’t be selfish, petal.” He pinches your cheek, finding joy in the tears painting your face. “You know I am a generous ruler.”

Jisung enjoys riling you up like this. Enjoys the tears, the cries, the way you’re twitching and squirming underneath him. Not to escape. No, from the force of something world shattering.

“Are you going to cum?” He teases you. “From those awful threats?”

You cannot help yourself, nodding quickly. Little, soft begs falling from your lips.

Maybe Jisung is power hungry. Maybe the crown has gone to his head. Maybe that’s why he laughs, stopping to leave you right on the edge. You’re so distraught, wide eyed and frantically begging for him to finish.

“Oh, but petal. I never said I would be generous to you.”

[irisintheafterglow]

HAND THREE - TWO PAIR

summary: in a season where you're determined to fly under the radar, newly-returned crown prince!touya todoroki has other ideas. in this hand, a date is had.

wc: 2.5k

cw/tags: royalty!au/regency!au, fem!reader, some swearing, banter and dialogue driven, fake dating, pining and tension, todoroki enji jumpscare LOL

note: the two wolves living inside me is one wanting to rush the hell out of slow burn and the other telling me to make it painfully slow. however, i broke a little and made the pining a little obvious in this chapter oops. one day i will achieve the emotional release of s2 bridgerton bee sting scene. hope you enjoy !!!!

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated <3

“Show.” 

“You first.”

“I’m royalty.”

“And I have the higher stack. Now, show,” you repeat and he scoffs, the corner of his mouth tugging upward and creasing the deep purple scars on his cheek. He turns his two cards face-up and, sure enough, you’d snatched another victory from the self-proclaimed Prince of Calculation. “I win again,” you smile and he begrudgingly pushes the pot to your side of the table, an amalgamation of garden pebbles, stray buttons, and a few gold coins you managed to produce. You were using whatever you had to gamble and the prince didn’t seem to mind. Touya, you remind yourself. You were supposed to call him by his first name throughout this whole charade, but it seemed as foreign on your tongue as a protruding third set of teeth. 

“You’re a much more dangerous woman than you give yourself credit for,” he muses with a clever glint in his eyes. Over the course of the last month or so, you’d accumulated an immunity to his unwavering stares and scalding eyes; lately, it actually seemed you found a certain affinity for his intense nature, even when you were its only target. His sweetly poisonous words were the latest test to your composure. “If we dressed you as a man for the night, we could relieve an entire club of their purses before the clock strikes ten.” His pretty fingers dealt another two cards and you peeked at them from the bottom of your vision. Queen of hearts and two of clubs. Not the best hand. 

“Hmm. How much of the pot would you use to bail me out for invading said club?” You lay out the first three cards, the flop, and flip the first over before betting a conservative amount. Four of diamonds. 

“Who ever said anything about bail? I’d just sneak you out. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time,” he answers, calling your bet, and you can’t tell if he’s kidding. It was another piece you were still trying to solve of the puzzle that was the prince of the Todoroki family, how he joked so casually about breaking laws and dodging authority. The nonchalance of his recklessness made your stomach turn, sometimes, but you couldn’t tell if it was from fear or intrigue. You flip the second card of the flop. Two of hearts. A pair, if all else failed. You just had to hope he didn’t have anything either. 

“For a royal, you seem to know a concerning amount about rule breaking. Do you have any intent to corrupt me?” 

“By the end of our courtship, possibly.” Jack of diamonds. Not what you were hoping for as the third card, by any means. A flash of excitement lights up behind your opponent’s eyes, too purposeful to be genuine. You mentally added his poker tells to the never-ending list of things to figure out about him, right under the number of crimes he’s committed against the government. Tossing in a few medium-value flower petals, you’re unsurprised when he matches your bet again. 

“Our courtship which, I’ll remind you, is causing quite the stir in the ton,” you point out while revealing the turn. Seven of hearts. You try not to let your disappointment in your current hand show on your face. The prince, you notice, looks like he’s trying a little too hard to contain his excitement. “You know, I suspect they might be rooting for us.”

“That’d be a new experience for me. Never received too much support in my endeavors before.” He places a high bet and you have no choice but to match it. If you were right about him lying, you would learn something new about his poker strategy; but, if you were wrong, you wouldn’t hear the end of it for the rest of the day. You flip the river and your heart stutters. Two of diamonds. You’re careful with your next bet, knowing that three of a kind wasn’t the best or worst hand you could create. The prince, however, pushes his entire hoard into the pot with a challenge in his eyes. He was trying to force you to fold. 

You match the bet and reveal your hand. 

Two pair versus three of a kind. The prince was bluffing, and you won again.

“At least this time, you’re not alone.” The admission is obvious but still catches both of you off-guard when you say it. You’re about to apologize for being too sentimental when that unreadable look passes over his face again, sudden as a lightning strike and gone just as quickly. 

“I guess you’re right,” he murmurs, relinquishing the remaining pot of knick-knacks to you. “Though I will say, having my ass handed to me in a card game was not a part of my plan.”

“A woman with intellect is never part of a man’s plan, yet she prevails all the same,” you conclude and he hums in agreement, collecting the remaining cards and slotting them back into their box. A concerning thought occurs to you and you glance around the secluded palace courtyard with new-found suspicion. His eyes follow your own, watching you keenly in a way that was both comforting and unsettling. 

“What is it?” 

“Will the servants not whisper about a woman playing a man’s game?” 

“They will whisper that you won, and that is what matters,” he states like a well-known fact. “Why? Is something bothering you about them?” 

“No, I’m just mulling over this whole arrangement again.” You wave him off dismissively and take another sip of lemonade from your teacup. A drink which, when you’d finally agreed to meet the prince at the palace for a day, he ordered presumably because you both shared a distaste for tea. “How odd it is and how people gossip so.”

“A lady beating the prince at poker is hardly a scandal compared to what transpired last week,” he recalls with terribly-hidden amusement, breaking off a piece of scone and smearing a glob of berry preserves onto it. “Wouldn’t you agree?” Your cheeks heat when you think of the memory and you snap your fan open to cool yourself and hide your burning face. It certainly wasn’t your proudest moment, to say the least. 

“Would you like me to retrieve a stick to keep your competition at bay?” You had jokingly asked, following his distracted gaze. It was your third ball of the season and your third public appearance with the prince; both you and your co-conspirator were forced to acknowledge the increasing number of interested suitors trying to pry you away. Dances, you found, were one of the few moments where other men weren’t climbing over each other for your attention. The only problem was being forced to share breathing space with him for an extended period of time. “Your Highness, why are you glaring like that?”

“I said to stop calling me that, and I’m not glaring,” he mumbled, very obviously glaring and avoiding your eyes. His hand stiffens around your waist, making your already-awkward distance from him more uncomfortable. It didn’t take long to notice that he was a fine dancer when he was with any other partner but you, and you figured it was because being in such close proximity was not part of your agreement. You raise a skeptical eyebrow, finally making him look at you when the silence indicates your displeasure. “Pay me no mind. I am only–”

“Moping like a kicked dog, that’s what you’re doing,” you interject and, in a blink, you’re back in another standoff with his intense stare.

“I don’t recall when you gained the right to comment on my behaviors so crassly.” Your eyebrows pinch, taken aback by his sudden hostility. His eyes were always burning, like embers in a fireplace, and it felt like the longer you looked at them, the less likely you’d be able to pull away. After a few moments of staring him down, you back off with a frustrated huff. You think you feel some of the tension leave him, too. 

“If we are to keep up this ruse in a believable manner, I suggest you confide in me from time to time, especially if it causes you to act in unfavorable ways,” you state simply, your irritation obvious. 

“You know nothing of my unfavorable ways.” The venom in his voice makes your heart sink, against your own judgment. His expression doesn’t soften, but his voice does. “Trust me. It’s not your burden to bear,” he says in a low tone and goosebumps spread across your arms, despite the fabric of your gloves and the sleeves of your dress. He meets your eyes and you could have sworn his gaze flickers to the neckline of your gown, but the action, like so many of his movements, is too quick to comment on. “So, let’s keep to our sides of the street, shall we?” 

“You’re insufferable,” you hiss, letting your politely smiling face slip as the strings conclude the dance. “Enjoy the rest of the evening. I feel a bit faint.” The muscles in his jaw clenches and you turn on your heel to beeline for an exit when a strong hand grabs you by the wrist and pulls you backward. Before you can register where you’re moving, your hand is placed firmly on his forearm and you’re a split-second from slapping him when–

“Touya.” Shit. With a blank mind, you remember to curtsy from pure muscle memory, dipping deeply toward the ground while the prince bends at the waist.

“Good evening, Father.” Touya’s voice becomes empty, devoid of all sarcasm, teasing, and charm. A glance at his face tells the same tale, blank and emotionless. The only indication of his true thoughts came the slight shake in his arm and how he unconsciously tugged you closer and closer to his side. You let yourself be pulled in and your free hand moved on its own, coming to rest on top of his and running your thumb over his knuckles. He exhales shakily. “Father, this is–”

“I know who you are,” he says before you could be properly introduced, making your nostrils flare. The man besides you bristles and you wonder how such a hard-faced, stoic man could make such a reckless and carefree son. You’d never seen King Todoroki except in victory parades and newsprints of his alliance with King All Might, but you could recognize the family’s flaming eyes from miles away. You decided that, no matter how irritating the prince was, his father was lower on your ranking of the Todoroki royals. “Should you marry, are you aware of the responsibility of being the wife of a king?” 

“I believe she is called a queen, Your Majesty,” you hear yourself say before you can stop yourself. From beside you, the prince makes a noise somewhere between a choke and a snort, and you direct your attention to the floorboards in hopes of surviving the king’s scathing reply. Despite the chatter of the party around you, it feels like your words were echoing off the gilded ceilings. The reprimand, however, never comes. The king turns back to his son with a look of suppressed wrath before turning and stalking away, a crowd of nobles crowing for his attention. 

“I can’t believe you just did that,” he whispers in disbelief as he hurriedly guides you out of the hall and into one of the manor’s gardens, still within sight of nosy mothers but out of their earshot. Your hand hasn’t left his arm, nor has he tried to pry it off. If anything, you click into his side like a missing puzzle piece, and you’re confusingly reluctant to let go. “That was the worst possible way you could have answered that question,” the prince continues and your stomach turns. 

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you,” you reply with poorly masked shame, lowering your head and letting him walk ahead. Your hand detaches from his arm and you’re struck by the sudden lack of warmth. He turns sharply to look at you, looks back at his empty arm, and then back at you before closing the few feet between you. His eyes were burning into you again but he said nothing, watching you watch the blades of grass surrounding your shoes. Your voice is as quiet as the swaying summer wind. “If I have jeopardized our plan, I understand if you–”

“Stop,” he commands, and it takes a moment to register his gloved fingers under your chin, gently but firmly tilting your head to look at him. Your eyes trace the jagged lines of where his skin meets his scars and the world around you quiets. “I am…the opposite of angry with your actions.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not an easy task, talking back to my father. Yet, you performed it as easily as breathing,” he explains with a soft awe in his expression that made your breath catch in your chest. 

“I guess I’ve had good practice, countering your arguments for the better half of the summer,” you agree hesitantly. What the hell was this feeling? For whatever reason, the world around you temporarily faded to static noise and blurred paintings, with the only decipherable images being the man in front of you. “So, you’re not unhappy with my behavior around your father?”

“I have never been prouder to be seen with you,” he reassures you and you finally crack a smile, his hand leaving your face and his feet stepping back to a respectful distance. “On another note, can you recall what we were arguing about before we were interrupted?”

“I can’t, unfortunately. I believe I was about to leave you alone on the dance floor to mingle with other suitors,” you joke and, though his expression remains relaxed, his eyes darken subtly. 

“I wouldn’t let them so much as breathe in your direction,” he declares, your breath becoming stuck in your lungs again. “Plus, you were saying that you required a stick to fight them off.”

“I did not say I required a stick,” you counter, lightheartedly bumping your shoulder against his while you make your way back into the manor. He merely smiles, a rare, genuine smile. “Though, I would like to apologize for my brash observations.” 

“You are forgiven.”

“Thank you,” you exhale, following him to the refreshments table.

“And…”

“Nevermind,” you backtrack, but he continues nonetheless.

“As reparation for insinuating that I act like an abused animal–”

“Which you do,” you retort quietly and he chuckles, shaking his head. 

“Next week, you will accompany me in receiving a visiting ally prince,” he says. “As it would be dreadfully boring to do alone and you, thankfully, bruised my ego, I will be dragging you with me on his guided tour of the kingdom’s market district.” 

“Must I really attend?”

“Who’s acting like the kicked dog now?” He smirks and you have no choice but to go along with his plan. Now, after several rounds of beating his royal ass in poker, it was time for you to leave and prepare for the social night between the Takami and Todoroki kingdoms. 

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[nerdpoe]

au where gotham is actually a glowing, isolated city that is IN the ghost zone but no one realizes it.

Like, Gotham is literally just Metropolis but where the brooding dead are. They are two sides of the same coin, but Gotham is where the dead go to stay if they die angry.

People don't really age unless they WANT to, the dead come back to life, travel from Gotham to other places is very wibbly wobbly. But Gotham has natural hidden portals that connect it to the rest of the living world.

The result?

Living people thriving and building a life for themselves in the Realm of the Dead.

Except that the dead don't know they're dead.

Sometimes they get knocked on their ass, yes, and they get kicked into the actual Zone for a bit, but they find their way back and either don't acknowledge that they died or do and just go "eh, it's fuckin Gotham. Whatcha gonna do about it?" and go about their day.

Bruce? Dead. Jason? Dead. Stephanie? Dead. Damian? Dead. Tim? Alive. Dick? Alive. Alfred? Dead. Cass? Alive. Duke? Alive.

The only one who really KNOWS is Constantine, and he reallllllly doesn't want to be the one to tell Batman that he's, uh....living challenged. Unalive. Technically a Ghost.

And then there's Danny, who's just like.

"The fuck do you mean there's an ungovernable city in the GZ? It has humans? Damn that place sounds great hold my crown imma vacay."

[petermorwood]

Word changes...

All of the following is IMO, so YMMV. :->

*****

Anyone noticed how "weaponry" is used nowadays in places where "weapons" would work just fine (and is often more correct)?

Yes, they ARE interchangeable, sort-of, but it's clunky and sounds to me either slightly journo-pompous or like a failure to remember the right word so plugging the most similar one into its place.

ETA: I checked one of my dictionaries, and while "weapons" is more modern, "weaponry" is an obsolete word which has come back into favour. I wonder why...?

*****

"Decimate" turns up all the time, usually when the correct word is "devastate".

Merriam-Webster says: "It's totally fine to use 'decimate' as a synonym for 'devastate'. This is why."

Beg to differ.

As the M-W article points out, "decimate" originally meant a Roman military punishment applied to one man in ten of a guilty unit. (Initially execution, but this had a rotten effect on unit morale, so it was reduced in severity to fatigues, extra drill or restricted rations.)

That's now considered a far too specific meaning and only linguistic pedants dig their heels in. Quite right too, and I speak here as a (bit of a) linguistic pedant...

However, it remains a useful word for more generalised incomplete destruction of living things - saying a regiment, flock, herd or population was "decimated" implies there are some survivors without quibbling over how many tenths. If totally wiped out, however, that's when words like "destroyed" or "obliterated" are more appropriate.

On the other hand something inanimate like a factory, city or region would be "devastated" - and in addition, saying someone is emotionally devastated is understandable, but saying they're emotionally decimated is peculiar.

Two words, several meanings.

It's like cutlery: a spork can replace knife, fork and spoon, but individual utensils give a lot more precision and variation of use.

*****

There are also a couple of real howlers, not just transposed words but actual errors.

One I've heard several times is using "siege" (a noun, or thing) instead of "besiege" (a verb, or action).

For reference, there's a term called noun-verbing, and the practice is quite old: "table the motion / pencil you in / butter him up / he tasks me", but all are either when there isn't already a verb-form of the word, or as a more picturesque way of saying something.

(Interesting side-note about "table the motion": in US English, it means "to postpone discussion" while in UK, CA and I think AU English, it means the complete opposite, "to begin discussion". Why there's this difference, I have no idea, but it's worth remembering as a Brit-fix when writing, also in a real-life business context.)

There IS an existing verb for the action of surrounding a castle and cutting it off from outside help, and that verb isn't "sieged". It's "besieged" or "under siege". Anywhere using "sieged" as a verb is wrong. The Firefox spellchecker in Tumblr Edit Mode is telling me it's wrong right now.

Merriam-Webster, I'm looking at you again.

*****

There's also "coronate" used as a verb. "The King was coronated at Westminster Abbey". Nope. He was CROWNED.

Coronate is an adjective (meaning crown-shaped) and was coined in in the 1600s by a botanist, as a word to describe the shape of certain plants.

The current Royal-associated usage seems to be a bastard back-formation from "coronation", because the act of putting on a crown is the verb "to crown".

This is almost identical in German, French, Italian and Spanish, with noun and verb the same. The only difference is that their verbs have, what a surprise, verb-endings (-en, -er, -re and -ar) on the noun while English does not.

Because English doesn't like to make things that easy...

"Coronated" might be people trying to sound archaic, or those who've bought into the dopey "said-is-dead" school, who perform any linguistic contortion to avoid common words, and who've been taught that repetition in a sentence - "crowned with a crown" - is BAD.

Is "coronated at a coronation" in some way better?

Guess what's got uncritical examples...

If that's M-W scholarship, I'll stick to the OED and my old but utterly reliable New Elizabethan Dictionary, thanks very much.

*****

Language is funny: sometimes funny ha-ha, sometimes funny annoying, but often just funny peculiar, because English etc. etc...

[scruplescripture]

Suuuppeeer rough stuff but here’s like, the meat of my Daydreamer AU plot, and some fun stuff… my sketches are lazy

Alright so here’s the sitch, my ramblings…

This is prismos deal;

Prismos dreamer was killed in his sleep, leaving behind Prismo as a daydream. Blue, desaturated, and more husk-like. Prismo didn’t have much of a clue as to what happened until he checked on his “body” and discovered the dreamer had been assassinated, but didn’t wake up in the process.

Scarab got a notification that Prismo had died and that there was an unknown entity in the vicinity, so he went to scope it out. He found what looked like prismo, and realized it was definitely prismo. Though still feeling bitter, he used the situation to chase off and mock Prismo.

Prismo escaped by pressing the TV remote before things got ugly, he went to the most chaotic place he could think of; Where the mushroom war took place. Because he thought he would be harder to track there.

He found shelter in an old well near a civilization. The people living there had children who regularly wished at the well, they called it the “Wishing Well”

So when Prismo got there, he decided to use some of his leftover power to help grant the children’s wish when they tossed coins down. Prismo decided to use the coin of the first children’s wish as a pupil, because he was unsettled by his own reflection in the water.

Eventually rumours spread about the Wishing Well that Prismo inhabited, and he got more wishes, the well slowly being filled with coins and other various objects. Obviously it was then easy for Scarab to find where Prismo was hiding out.

When Scarab found where Prismo was hiding he found it hilarious, mocking him further at how useless he had become. This drove Prismo even further into his turmoil, but Scarab had left him there to rot in the well. Until a crown with immense magical power was haphazardly thrown down.

Here’s where I’m at with Simon;

Both Simon and Prismo are a bit crazy by the time they meet in the well, after Simon had thrown the crown down in a fit of anger and desperation. Prismo couldn’t grant his wish due to most of his power being used up by that time, but since it was a bigger wish than any other he had granted while in the well, Prismo could get away with excuses.

Prismo promised Simon that he would help Simon get what he wanted since he was a wishmaster, he just needed to keep Prismo around long enough to get his power back. So Simon keeps Prismo in a prism necklace, shining light into it when Prismo wants to stretch his form.

Simon was manipulated by Prismo using his fear of losing Betty and desperation to keep Marceline safe. Prismo clung to the magic of the crown because it was similar to his own that he had lost; granting a wish and all. and also because he felt like he was losing it down in the well he was in, he was driven desperate for the power he once possessed and a need to finally explore the world beyond what he saw on the TV screen back in the time room.

Prismo is consistency being pulled between who he was before and the deceitful way he is now, feeling both guilty and angry from what was taken from him, and what he feels like he needs to do to “fix things”

Meanwhile Simon is now protecting both Marceline and Prismo using the ice crown under Prismos instructions, though he now sees things through more rose-tinted glasses (literally LOL!) due to Prismo filling his head with half-truths and white lies. He’s able to keep the other two safe by using snow-based defensive strategies, hence “Snow King” though if he needs to he can use larger shuriken-like ice snowflakes

I’m not sold on the way I drew him but here’s the deets

-his beard grew as long as his hair but he cut it short so prismo could see out of the prism, he keeps his hair long so Marceline can braid it

-Prismo made a passing comment about him looking cool in red so now it’s his thing

-like, a little bit happier than in the cannon show, but it’s all based on lies so it’s tragic

-more focused on his work again because of Prismo, kind of torn between that and looking for Betty?? Who knows

To be honest, if anyone’s got better ideas lemme hear em’ cause I might be crazy about this and far off the mark with how Prismo would act in that situation

Also yes scarab becomes the new wishmaster, still have not thought that design out yet be gentle

Also I think about this song a lot while thinking about daydreamer AU, have it

[leothetraveler]

Coin and Crown au

Parent's Day

            It was an unremarkable day, no different than any other. And yet, I couldn’t help but be anxious. Though I knew it would happen, it was the intent after all, this still scares me. Even as I hold the egg in my arms, I can’t help but wonder if this was a mistake. If I’m at all ready for what’s to come. But it is too late to turn back now. I knew what I was getting myself into when I agreed to try for one with Lamb all those months ago. Still, a part of me regrets nothing. It’s small. And quiet. But it’s there. And I try hard to listen to it.

I look up at Lamb, giving a sermon to the masses gathered below. I wasn’t paying much mind to their words. I never do. They always had a way with words, swaying the minds of even the most doubtful. But such wasn’t needed for me. I already would give the world to see them happy. Such was unbelievable for me not long ago. I have spent centuries alone and figured such would always be my fate. Yet they have my heart, not stolen but freely given.

As Lamb finishes their sermon, they look at me with a gentle smile before addressing their followers once more, making the announcement of our egg. “Alright. Now to the matter I know you have been waiting for. Leon and I used the egg tent and ritual to sire an heir.” They gestured to me holding our egg, the cult’s eyes turning to me. I shift my weight in discomfort, having never liked being the center of attention. It tended to go badly for me in the past. Lamb stole their attention back after a moment. “I’m sure you already knew this since a few among our flock are keen to gossip. But there is also another announcement I’d like to make.” My eyes snapped to them. They hadn’t told me about any other announcement. “In celebration of my future heir, I declare today a new holy day! A holy day to celebrate families and parenthood! Enough food and drink has been prepared ahead of time, so enjoy the day with your families and children without worry. Glory to the red crown.”

“Praise be the lamb!” With that, the crowd exited the temple, eager to celebrate. I waited for Lamb at the entrance as they collected the temple donations. “So. When were you going to tell me about this new holy day?” I asked, a little annoyed I was left out of such. Lamb came over with a cheeky smile. “I just did, along with everyone else. What, don’t like a nice surprise?” They kissed my cheek and held the temple door open for me. I rolled my eyes as I stepped out into the courtyard. The cult had already dispersed to celebrate with their families, so no one bothered us as we exited. I followed Lamb as they walked to the village entrance. “So. Any more surprises I should know about? Don’t want to get spooked and drop the little one.” I joked, though the question was also genuine. Lamb paused, turned to look at me with narrow, judging eyes, and then took the egg from my arms. “wha- I was joking! I would never…well, IS there any more surprises?”

Lamb was quiet, their ear flicking with mild annoyance. Clearly my joke wasn’t funny. Still, they answered my question. “Forenus and the twins have been invited. They should arrive by midday.” On cue, we heard someone calling from the entrance ahead of us. “Ah. There is such JOY in the air today! Thank you for inviting us, Lamb! I always enjoy an excuse to spend time with my kits.” Forenus beamed. She was always a big ball of positivity, even at her lowest. Baal and Aym followed behind, pulling her cart with them. “Mother, there is no need for such excuses. We already visit weekly.” Aym grumbled. He always acted more like Narinder than his mother. Consequence of being locked away with him, I guess. “Oh, lighten up, Aym. We are here to relax, remember?” Meanwhile, Baal took after their mother. Always apologizing for Aym’s rudeness and keeping a more upbeat tone. I couldn’t help but smile. Their brotherly squabbling was familiar, though I have long forgotten any siblings I once had. Forenus walked up to us while the twins pulled the cart aside to set up near the entrance, squabbling the entire time. “Oh, is this the little one here, Lamb? Such a large egg! I hope you didn’t strain yourself.” Her face showed genuine concern for Lamb. Lamb smiled reassuringly, adjusting her grip on our child-to-be. “I’m alright, Forenus. No need to fret over me. Not when you already have two kittens worrying you enough.” Forenus chuckled heartily. “Oh, it’s nothing this old heart can’t handle. I can never thank you enough for bringing them back to me, Lamb.” I stopped paying attention as they continued to chat, a sense of déjà vu overtaking me as I watched the two mothers.

 I couldn’t dwell on it for long as Narinder approached, his presence announced with his trademark growl of disapproval for anything Lamb does that he wouldn’t. “Another frivolous holy day. I do not know why you would celebrate something so insignificant and beneath you as being a parent.” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at his complaints. While he had settled into his retirement with relative contempt (given the amount of freedom he has), this damned cat always finds something to complain about. “Well why would you see the value in it? It is not like you or your kin ever had children, much less indulged in another.” I had hoped my remark would silence or upset the fallen god, but he only laughed. “Foolish mortal. Kallamar tried once. It did not go well. And Shamura has no interest in such.” He looked so smug for someone airing out their family’s dirty laundry. “Besides, I have indulged in such sinfulness once. ONCE. It was not worth remembering or repeating.” Me and him exchanged glares for a moment. Then Forenus cleared her throat, grabbing our attention. “Well, I’m sorry you did not enjoy our night together, my lord. Though it is one I hope to never forget.” Narinder’s face went through a list of emotions. Confusion, realization, embarrassment, and anger. Lamb and Forenus laughed as he demanded their silence on the topic before storming off. Even I couldn’t help but chuckle at his karma.

“What did you ever see in them, Forenus?” I had to ask, “I doubt he has been anything other than a prick.” Forenus finished laughing, sighed, and stared at Narinder’s retreating backside as she answered. “Oh, I was a zealous woman in my youth. Becoming a high priestess was inevitable, and from there devotion fell to obsession. And when his volunteers dwindled, I acted on that obsession. But I do not regret it for a moment. It has brought me more joy than I could imagine.” Lamb perked up as Forenus finished speaking. They had sat on the ground with our egg in their lap, probably to let their arms rest for a moment.  “Oh, wait! Forenus. You’ve been around since Narinder was sealed centuries ago, right? So, you would have met my people before we were hunted.”  Forenus nodded and Lamb erupted in a barrage of questions. They always wanted to learn more of their lost people. I couldn’t blame them. I looked past them at Baal and Aym, who had finished setting up their mother’s wagon and had begun sparring. They are their mother’s joy, yet they act so much like their master.

…wait. Their mother’s joy. ‘More joy than I could imagine’…

My jaw dropped as I put the pieces together. “Wait a minute…is Narinder the twin boys’ father?” Lamb and Forenus looked at each other before giggling together, as if I stated something obvious. Lamb was first to answer. “Heket had told me a while ago. Seems he is the only one in his family that doesn’t know.” Forenus regained her composure next. “Ah, it was a lifetime ago, but I’ll never forget it. By the time I knew myself that I was with child, his entombment was nigh, and I had no chance to tell him. I suspect that is why the purple one sent them to him. Family to keep him company. Anyways, I’ve chewed your ears long enough. Go enjoy the festivities, Lamb. I’ll be by my wagon if you need me.” With that, Forenus joined her kits by the wagon. Lamb got up and looked towards the cult grounds before handing the egg back to me. “Take this to the nursery for me. I see a fight brewing at the drink house.” And they hurried off without another word. Sighing, I began the march to the nursery…on the other side of the cult.

<<PREV NEXT>>

[merchant-wizard-and-jerry]

“Hello, I’m the friendly wizard _____. My name got taken by a fey prince but it hasn’t really hampered my life. Anyways I am new to this wider wizard community and would like to get along. I have a magic book, a cart, and a friend. His name is Jerry, he is a fungus colony that has taken over my magic book and acts sort of as my patron. He…is a little weird but great fun.”

*sound of an explosion in the background, a book flys by being chased by goblin shamans casting fire ball*

“He is…”

“He is fine.”

“Anyways, I am here to sell goods and make a small profit. If you need something I’ll see what I can do : ) ”

“Also apparently I helped smuggle an amnesiac @fattocatto-wizard out of the city in my wagon. That was a shock, though he was just a cat.

Character Cheat sheet

( 3 currency to 16 silver crowns and 2 copper crowns)

(Current balance 82,692.750001 currency, one penny, 23 meat pucks, 14 pounds, 2 gold coins one with Julius Cesar on it, 3 naturally-grown mana stones, 2 highly enchant able metal pieces, and one bar, 1 special bug corpse, 851gold, silver 18, 70 aus, 5kg silver, magic dirt house size. 24 counterfeit currency. Moss/lichen-coded bio stone. An inverse cold torch. 99 BG silver. EMERALD LINCOLN, GOLDEN CARROT, 200 SALTED MEAT DISKS, 200 POLISHED ROCKS, 82 FIGET SPINNERS!, A FULLY EQUIPPED LICH'S DUNGEON, and a cardboard box (magic black marble).” Invisibility stone, a bundle of drake feathers, quantum locked rock, raw gold. 9 Gold coming from the green goblin empire, 50 mushrooms, 92 secret society emblem. 5 trans enchanted gold coins, 2 skull coin, ancient lost civilization fragment, 5 glistening green metallic coin, 31 writhing bugs of gold, jade coin. Pile of gold coins and gold coin bugs, pile of shines from harpy, dust, quantum glass shards, bag of tooth shaped candy, 6720 candies from the festival, bag of holding money bag, 68 money bags. 5 (+2 a week) currency of debt from @yeast-wizard, 500 flat Foxen, double sided dollar coin, 3 floppies, a Brahman horn, a medkit, a few candy bars, and an umbrella)

(Currently holding baby dire bunnies.)

(Jerry’s balance 13 gold, a fancy rock, 1 coin, flower petals (snacks for later), harpy eyes, feathers, vocal cords, and talons)

(Warlocks of Jerry @fungal-boy-witch-yay @ignisuadaroleplay @life-is-okay-rn2 I think that is who it was…)

(Possessions - wealth stone, Antidote stone)

Owner of membership cards

——————————

@the-final-knight-2

@confused-sorcerer

@bi-gender-sorcerer

@the-mighty-dalob

@detectivewizzard

@goblin-wizard-in-the-making

@serious-tabaxi

@weltreths-wanderings

@ignisuadaroleplay (will)

@shittest-wizard-ever

@wizard-wylin-wylerian

@akronus-and-associates (the primordials)

—————————————

@hallowed-the-silver-gun

@jormungand-seas-champion

@crow-natures-wrath

@antros-ember-of-fear

@akronus-the-redeemed

@clockwork-time-watcher

@aldira-born-anew

——————————

@wizard-ghost

@yeast-wizard

@crickled-thorn-thug

@sorcererest-sorcerer

———

Perks

———

5% off all purchases

Special requested items

More favorable bartering

———

[perseabeth]

The Promise of the Wild Sea

< this is not an official fic yet, i had this AU in my mind for a while, and now i got the time to write few parts of it. if the story was to your liking, i might get encouraged to make it an official fic. i’d like to remind you that i do not own any of the characters, as they all belong to the original myths and Rick Riordan. except for the oc Callista. however, i made some alternation in the myths that could benefit my story. i hope you like these changes. also this is a fem!percy version. enjoy reading >

- 1184 BCE, The fallen city of Troy -

Apollo stood in front of Callista’s pyre, the flames not yet lit, his gaze fixed on her lifeless face. Her once radiant beauty now drained, her cheeks no longer flushed with the color of life. Her hair, dark as the starless night, framed a visage that seemed at peace, a peace she had found only in death. Yet, she had stolen his peace with her departure, leaving him hollow and bereft.

With painstaking care, he had smoothed away every bruise, every mark of the cruelty she had endured, wishing to present her to the underworld in the full splendor of her glory. His Callista, his heart. He clutched the two drachmas in his hand, the coins a symbol of her final journey, but to him, they were a cruel reminder of his eternal separation from her. How could he consign her to the underworld, knowing he would be condemned to an eternity without her by his side?

His soul ached with a grief that seemed too vast to contain. With a trembling breath, he placed the drachmas on her closed eyes, sealing her fate, preparing her for her voyage to the underworld. She deserved a realm free from the sorrows of war and the sting of death, a place of peace and light. He swore on his immortal soul that she would find solace in Elysium.

Apollo leaned down, his tears falling like rain upon her serene face, pressing a final kiss to her cold, unresponsive forehead.

“Farewell, my Callista... until we meet again, my angel.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun god cradled her cheeks in his trembling hands, his soy blue eyes filled with the agony of days spent pleading with his uncle, the merciless lord of death, for this moment. She was there in his embrace, radiant as the true princess she was, her beauty untouched by the shadows of the underworld. Her black hair cascaded down her back like the soft night sky, a dark tapestry embroidered with stars in silken threads. Her eyes, those mesmerizing sea-green eyes, gazed up at him—the very eyes he had yearned to kiss open one last time before cruel fate tore her away.

But nothing unfolded as he had hoped.

"My lord," Callista whispered, her eyes shining with boundless love for the man before her. She wore a white, elegant chiton that clung to her form with an ethereal grace, adorned with a delicate laurel crown—a vision of Trojan royalty. Apollo shook his head, refusing to accept the words forming on her lips. "No, you are coming with me," he implored, tears welling up in his sky-blue eyes, each drop a testament to his anguish. He was begging, pleading for her to return with him to the world of the living.

The princess before him shook her head gently, her gaze unwavering. "No, my lord, I am dead. I am happy here," she said softly. She took his palm, still cradling her cheek, and pressed a tender kiss upon it, as if sealing their fates with that simple, heartbreaking act. "You must respect the rules of death, my love. You must go on and find happiness in the lands of the living."

Her words stabbed his heart, despite the delicateness of her voice, despite the sweetness of her words, and despite the loveliness of her eyes. She was pushing him away, each word like a dagger twisting deeper.

Callista looked at him again, her gaze filled with a sorrowful resolve. "I'm with my family, and you should be with yours. Lord Zeus will not be tolerable when he hears that you brought me back from death."

Apollo tried to reason with her, desperation lacing his voice. "But Uncle Hades has already accepted," he argued, only to be met with another tender kiss on his palm from Callista.

"I'm not letting you get into an argument with your father," she replied softly. She lifted her hand and gently caressed the strand of his hair falling on his forehead. Her melodic voice continued, soothing yet heartbreaking. "You will live on. You will find happiness again, I'm sure."

"My happiness is with you only," he insisted, his voice breaking.

But Callista only shook her head with a sad smile. "That's what you're saying now, because the pain is so new. But trust me, my love... time will go on, life will go on." She looked into his eyes, her determination unyielding. He knew there was no way to change her heart. She gave him a beautiful smile that could have brightened his days if not for their situation. "You did all you could. You made sure I found my final rest in a beautiful place. Now it's your turn to let go... to move on."

Apollo's tears threatened to fall, threatening to drown his eyes. He did the only thing he could do in that moment; he planted a soft, small kiss on her lips, a goodbye kiss filled with all the sorrow of a love that could never be. It was a kiss that spoke of unending longing and the crushing weight of farewell.

He would never force her to do anything. If she was happy, he would be happy, even if it meant an immortal lifetime of his heart shattering every day he remembered that she wasn't waking up next to him.

His time in the underworld was ticking away, leaving him with precious few moments to spare in the arms of his beloved. How cruel fate is, he thought, that even time refuses to grant him a longer respite to find peace in her embrace one last time.

He kissed her forehead once more, a goodbye kiss—the same kiss he had planted on her brow the day of her pyre, the day they consigned her body to the flames in a solemn ritual of farewell. He looked into those beautiful eyes one last time. "I swear to you, I’ll always find you in the stars, in the calm oceans, in the beautiful sunlight, in the warm flames, and in the serene mountains. You will always haunt me, forever haunt my life, Callista."

This earned him a sad smile from her beloved face, and he realized he loved all her smiles except this one. "Who knows, maybe someday you will find me again, amidst the moors or maybe in the wild sea."

He nodded, a silent nod, as a single tear traced a path down his cheek. He kissed her hands one last time and turned his back, leaving his beloved, leaving his heart, leaving the bane of his soul in Elysium, where she belonged. Before he stepped away, he turned to her one last time. "Someday, I’ll find you in the wild sea."

With that, Apollo left the underworld, each step a testament to the immortal lifetime of sorrow that awaited him, a sorrow he would bear for the love he could never truly hold again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

- December, 2007. New York City-

"And now, sis. Transportation for the Hunters, you say? Good timing. I was just about ready to roll.

"These demigods will also need a ride," Artemis said, pointing to us. "Some of Chiron's campers."

"No problem!" Apollo checked us out. "Let's see... Thalia, right? I've heard all about you."

Thalia blushed. "Hi, Lord Apollo."

"Zeus's girl, yes? Makes you my half sister. Used to be a tree, didn't you? Glad you're back. I hate it when pretty girls turn into trees. Man, I remember one time—"

"Brother," Artemis said. "You should get going."

"Oh, right." Then his gaze landed on me, and his eyes widened with a mixture of shock and recognition, as if he had glimpsed a long-lost memory. The once vibrant blue of his eyes now bore golden freckles, a haunting reminder of his divine nature. "Callista?"

I met his gaze, my heart pounding with confusion and uncertainty. Was he mistaking me for someone else, someone from his past? “No. I mean... no, sir."

Calling a teenager "sir" felt awkward, but I knew better than to offend an immortal. They were known to have volatile tempers, and tended to get offended easily. Then they blew stuff up. and now Apollo seems to be on verge of blowing things up, or me perhaps.

His silence stretched on, his eyes still fixed on me, probing and searching. It was as if he was peering into my soul, unraveling the layers of my being with each passing moment.

Eventually, his gaze shifted to his sister, Artemis, who offered him a subtle shake of her head. Their silent exchange felt like a wordless, deep conversation, conveying a depth of understanding that transcended spoken words. Apollo cleared his throat, breaking the tension that hung in the air, before turning his attention back to me.

His gaze shifted abruptly from sheer confusion to a myriad of emotions I couldn't quite pinpoint. It reminded me of the way my mom once described my reaction to blue cookies or a serene beach—a mix of wonder and longing. Yet, as he looked at me, I saw something more. His eyes, now a crystal-clear sky blue, brimmed with an affection that seemed to encompass the entire world. It was a strange sensation, one that left me feeling oddly nervous, knowing that he was a god who could unleash his power at any moment. If it were anyone else, I might have blushed under their gaze. But facing a god for the first time, unsure if he was friend or foe, left me feeling unsettled rather than flustered.

"Percy Jackson," Apollo's voice cut through the tense silence like a blade. For a moment, it felt as though time itself had frozen, as if I were caught in a web of his penetrating gaze. I nodded silently. Then, without a word, he turned away, his attention shifting back to the group. The weight of his gaze that seemed to convey the burden of centuries, left me unsettled.

"Well!" he exclaimed in a cheerful voice again, as if the past few moments were nothing, breaking the silence. "We'd better load up, huh? The ride only goes one way—west. And if you miss it, you miss it."

—

i’d love to hear your opinion about this.

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Ready to rec some awesome fics that I read this month!! Feel free to add on with some of your own Bagginshield recs. 😁

April 2024 Rec List

G Rated:

A Dwarven Beauty by bebel_bee (Complete, 4K, 1ch.)- You have to love cultural differences where it comes to the dwarven and hobbit concepts of beauty. Bilbo is getting a bunch of odd comments on his looks that he thinks are derogatory. This is such a fun, quick read with fun misunderstandings and a lovely getting together scene.

Green-Handed by lotus0kid (Complete, 41K, 20ch.)- This was a really fun magical hobbits fic. Under certain conditions, hobbits go "green-handed" which means they can grow anything through touch and that's how Bilbo finds himself one morning. The ending of this fic just gets me with how absolutely enamored Thorin is with Bilbo and his gift.

Ive found Frodo...and he found you? by Lucigoo89 (Complete, 2K, 1ch.)- I need to preface this by saying my house had an entire den of fifteen skunks living under it that we tried to relocate...I absolutely despise skunks. But I gave this a chance for Lucigoo and it was as predicted, completely adorable. Little skunk Frodo wanders off and when Bilbo goes after him, he finds him in a den of badgers, one of whom he knows rather intimately.

T Rated:

Burning Crowns by Morg47 (Complete, 9K, 2ch.)- I read the first chapter when this was just a one-shot craving more and the author didn't disappoint! Infamous thief Bilbo helps the rightful king of Erebor in his assassination attempt of Smaug. I love seeing a confident BAMF Bilbo, and apparently Thorin does too.

Frozen Heart by snowmissus (soul_of_blaze) (WIP, 14K, 5ch.)- This is such a unique AU with a compelling set up. Bilbo has been tasked by Yavanna to try to help Erebor out of its frozen state, and by extension its king. Very fairytale-esque with some great characterizations and interactions, I can't wait for more!

Imbalance by northerntrash (Complete, 10K, 1ch.)- This story genuinely shocked me! In this Hades/Persephone AU, it is Bilbo who is Lord of the Underworld and Thorin who is a plant life god. As cracky as that sounds, it actually legitimately works in this AU as Bilbo and Thorin rely on each other to make themselves better.

There and Not Back Again (or, The Saving of Erebor) by femmbingley (WIP, 178K, 52ch.)- There’s so much to say about this fic. Post-BOTFA dwarven politics where Bilbo has assumed the duties of the consort which makes things more difficult for Dain. I really love the characterizations and I just can’t get enough of this fic!

to feel you like a knife by queerofthedagger (Complete, 23K, 2ch.)- Thorin's POV absolutely shook me at the beginning as he describes seeing his three loved one laid up in cots. After Bilbo saves Thorin's life, he wakes up to find his memories prior to Laketown are gone. It was so well paced and absolutely delicious in angst with a happy ending.

M Rated:

Backs to the Wall by Conkers (WIP, 124K, 24ch.)- I held off on this fic for a long time, not because I was worried I wasn’t going to enjoy it, but because I knew how much it would have me foaming at the mouth. Missing the deadline, the Company splits up at Laketown with Thorin, Dwalin, Nori, and Bilbo remaining to earn some coin. I’m beside myself with the gentle, sweet moments of pre-Bagginshield that have me screaming.

E Rated:

The Burden of Choice by Fantasyinallforms (Complete, 56K, 12ch.)- I went absolutely feral over this fic! Bilbo and Thorin are arranged to marry each other, neither knowing who the other is, and they escape in the night and begin to travel together. There were just so many emotions throughout this fic, it was so well written!

The Riven Crown by BeautifulFiction (Complete, 254K, 31ch.)- It was time for another read of this wonderful story. Bilbo stays in Erebor to see them through the winter only to find himself in a courtship with the king and a plot to see Thorin off the throne. This is just the ultimate Bilbo remains in Erebor fic and definitely worth the read if you haven't already.

Theft by Erinye (Complete, 124K, 40ch.)- Another epic that I had to reread this month. For his part in the alliance, Thorin demands Bilbo be returned to the mountain to be tried for his crimes in stealing the Arkenstone. Although the deaths of Fili and Kili break my heart in this fic, the rediscovery of Bilbo and Thorin's relationship through sex and comfort makes this a great read.

[mochaintherain]

Accismus

Summary: You're a treasure hoarder who's stolen the most precious thing in Inazuma: the crown prince, Scaramouche. (GN! Reader)

Word Count: 2.4k

CW: VIOLENCE!!!!! Mutual violence, but like. there's undertones. idk. Reader isn't a good person, Criminal Reader, Antagonist reader, unestablished relationship, a little toxic (given the circumstances), blood, Royalty AU, (Scaramouche whoops your ass.)

A/N: Formatted on Mobile ♡. Sorry I've been away! This was originally meant to be for a larger story but my ass Did NOT finish it so I'm just going to post this lolz...plus, with Fontaine, there is so much potential ( ☆∀☆) BUT FINALLY SCARA FIC! posted at. 3 in the morning :')

Silver to gold.

The raven insignia colored like the brilliant sun would finally, finally, be yours to claim—tangible, indisputable proof of your convictions, ambitions, and desires. If the gods gifted conduits to those they considered worthy, then this coin was more than divine acknowledgment.

This insignia was your Vision, bestowed by fellow mortals.

Because today, you have captured a trophy.

Prince Scaramouche glowered in the chair he was untenderly pinioned to, indigo eyes never once breaking from your figure. He hadn't spoken once since his fateful acquisition, instead redirecting what would usually be a flurry of insults into a piercing gaze, sharp enough to cut flesh.

His yukata—the layers of purple and red silks, once draping his form in nobility, status, royalty—laid disheveled across the ground. The only things remaining before his abduction were the dark juban slipping over his body, along with the necklace made of black and red string, harboring a single, golden feather. The man in front of you, now a mere ghost of what he used to be.

You nodded to your men as they finished the last knots on his wrists, nodding to you, before departing the tent. He tugged at the restraints, grimacing.

"Wipe that damn smile off your lips," he sneered, red eyeliner melting in the crinkles of porcelain skin.

"Oh? So he finally speaks. Hello, your Highness—" you bowed lightly, though in no part due to deference—"how did you know? Was my excitement truly that obvious?"

"Tch. Not even that rag you call a mask can hide your ugly face."

"...wow." A soft laugh bubbled from your throat, and the corners of your lips twitched—up close, he couldn't escape scrutiny. The rumors were entirely true.

His infamous, hot-headed temperament juxtaposed his delicate features.

Even through anger, he was beautiful.

"Get away from me, worm," he jeered, narrowing his gaze.

"I suggest you mind your manners," you chastised, closing the distance between the two of you, much to his dismay, "you have no authority here, and your mother isn't here to protect you. So know your place, Prince." You spat the last syllable, honeyed in vitriol. The feather accessory almost crumbled in your grip as you jerked it forward, ripping a strangled gasp from the man.

"Here, you're as insignificant as the rest of us, got it? Your blood is just as red as mine when spilled."

With your thumb and forefinger, you pulled a little more, the strings protesting by digging themselves into the skin of his neck.

"Is that supposed to be a threat?" Scaramouche wheezed out, his head craning forward, coughs and laughs mixing into raspy drawls, "please. One blemish on me and your head will be on a pike."

"Hah." Your free hand trailed up the plush of his cheek, fingers resting on the crease of his eye.

"Get your filthy hands off—"

"If that were really the case, if you were so precious—" you smeared the pristine makeup onto his temple, and Scaramouche let out a guttural hiss, "—it wouldn't have been so easy to pluck you out Tenshukaku."

"You—!"

And the necklace snapped.

At that instant, his body tensed and his face contorted into a snarl, teeth ready to snap at your limbs. What little poise he managed to conjure for this ordeal dissipated in a matter of seconds.

How amusing.

"You have no idea what you've just done."

"Why so riled up? I'm sure your mother will get you a new one, you spoiled heir," you hummed, stepping away before his teeth could find your arms, "of course, unless the rumors are true?"

Infuriation overtook his indigo eyes, along with a flicker of hurt…or pain?

"Enough," he barked, "one more word and I'll rip your tongue out myself." The remark appeared almost funny, the way his shoulders shook like a petulant child.

If only you saw past the hilarity, and caught the screech of nail to cotton fiber.

"Tell me," you continued your taunt, waving the feather haphazardly in the air. At that moment, he was more hilichurlian than prince, "is it true you’re nothing more than a prince in name? How much of a brat are you, to be denied your birthright on the throne?"

"You'll regret that," Scaramouche seethed, "do you know who I am? Do you know who you're dealing with?" Every passing word accompanied another shake of his arms. "I'll have you beg for mercy."

"I think you're overestimating yourself," you said, rolling your eyes. "I don't think someone who fell victim to treasure hoarders, of all groups, has any—"

"You talk too much."

A small, misplaced half-smile spread across his countenance as the rope fell behind the chair with a soft thud.

The rope tethering him in place.

The rope with red-tinged ends, allowing him an opportunity to lunge.

You narrowly barreled out the way, too busy swallowing down shock.

“Give that back!” Scaramouche hissed, “that’s mine!”

You clenched the aureate pinion in your fist, ramming your elbow into his side.

“Tch!”

He staggered back, glaring you down. Moonlight peeked from the tent’s entrance, and illuminated his back in a way that made him seem almost holy.

But surely, no angel would be stupid enough to stay where their wings would be clipped. His aggression outweighed his rationality, you deduced, as instead of fleeing, weak sparks of electro spat from his bloodied fingertips.

“Huh. You sawed through your bindings using nothing but your bare hands and energy. That’s kind of impressive.”

“That’s mine,” he repeated, “that’s mine.”

“Is it now? I don’t see your name on it.”

Now on adjacent sides of the tent, the two of you locked into a waltz of frenzied attacks and defenses.

Despite not having a sword, the eventual successor of the Musou no Hitotachi fought as if he embodied the blade. Nimble fists like the wind, he slashed at your frame. He moved with deadly, facile, precision, adorning your skin in small, blooming bruises. Your only saving grace to avoid anything greater was your own adeptness to combat. Each swipe was blockaded by a feint on your end, each kick met with a parry, two adversaries encompassing the other in a cramped space, both sparring for purchase in a hopeless impasse. Static blanketed the air as the assault droned on.

This unnecessary long-winded fight could end the moment your men came to your aid. Is that why he guarded the entrance so fervently?

“You know, one scream from me and you’re done for,” you quipped.

“Hah. I’m not that weak.”

You bit your tongue to avoid spilling out the thought that, no, he wasn’t, and you respected his strength.

“There’s fifteen of us and one of you. Don’t be an idiot, now,” you said, laughing softly, taking a step forward, “we overpowered you once, and—oh, history has a habit of repeating itself.”

His brows furrowed, and he glared at you. “Do it then. I don’t care,” he sneered, a sardonic smile threatening to overtake his face, “I’m sure you’ll sound lovely.” The prince matched your footwork; he was hellbent on taking you down.

You knew that if he was afforded any advantage, you'd succumb.

So began the reprise.

Each hit on your forearms, each returned in equal fervor, each swerve you employed to avoid his kicks, your lungs heaved with short-lived air, the deadlock turning evermore in his favor.

As the dance raged on, your composure waned. Imbalance. Sloppiness. Exponentially labored breaths—in, out, in...in, in, in....

“Hehe. Surely you can do better than that, thief.”

This wasn't just a difference in ability. No, how could someone not grow weary after this long? Scaramouche maintained an imperious grin on his face, never once faltering. It was as if he was inhumane.

Maybe this was the effect of royal blood.

Another stumble meant another loss, another small victory awarded to your enemy...

"Why are you even here? Just give up," he spat, aiming a particularly strong punch to your ribs.

Was he getting faster, or were you slowing down?

You saw it coming. You watched how his painted nails—crimson, bloody—clenched together, how sadism bled into his smile, how it traversed through the air...

It was most certainly the latter.

Air knocked from your system, it was your turn to stagger.

"You're weaker than I thought. How pathetic," he said flatly, shaking his hand off, "how disappointing."

You couldn't breathe. Every attempt to reach for air ended in sharp pains and the dispelling of oxygen in your lungs. That damned rag. There was no point in trying to hide your identity at this point. Already too deep in, the crime too far gone…

You clawed the mask off your face, glaring at your opponent.

"You're the one that talks too much," you gasped out between shuddering breaths, your lips contorted into a twisted grimace.

Amidst your blurring vision and preoccupation with beating the man in front of you into submission, you weren't privy to the shift in his visage.

How his eyes widened, taking in every one of your features.

Disbelief casted onto his expression.

Awe.

That too, unfortunately, left him unguarded.

Scaramouche, for all his capabilities, likely lost the battle when your mask fell, and he caught a glimpse of your true face.

Your desperation drew an epiphany; you didn't want to kill him, but you had to fight back. But what if it killed him? What good was a sale if you had no product? Worthless. But what good was a ransom if no one could sell?

Fuck. It didn’t matter. You were a treasure hoarder. A thief. Bound to scrounge Teyvat for leftovers.

And this Prince, right in front of you?

His life was a prize, and you've always had a propensity for stealing.

That was your ambition. Your talent. Your worth.

You were not going to let that gold insignia slip from your grasp.

Not that easily.

Your fingers ghosted your sash. The miniscule glass buzzed with elemental energy.

“I’ll give you one chance, prince,” you murmured. “Stop this ceaseless fight or else.”

“No,” came his immediate response, eyes flickering from your face to your fist, “I’d be a fool to give up when I’m winning.”

“Then stop while you’re ahead,” you snapped sweetly.

With only another laugh escaping his lips, he suddenly burst forward once more. You squeezed your eyes shut, his form like a bullet in your path.

His skillful fighting captivated your senses, yet you had to resort to playing dirty.

As he drew closer, close enough to touch, he took you off your feet, and you grappled at his robes. The feather fell to the wayside, and the prince jerked his head to follow its descent.

Squeezing the pyro potion with your free hand, you could not keep down your thoughts this time.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

The bottle effortlessly smashed against the small of his hip, the unleashed fire focusing its fury on his defenseless muscles.

You winced, the crackle in the air running up your exposed skin in droves. Pyro and the Electro within him swirled and exploded in tandem.

Scaramouche gasped, breath hitching, shoving you away as he convulsed onto the dirt, sudden twitches of protesting muscles exacerbating his agony. His skin stained with sweat—waves of fire rolled over each pore—and shards embedded into his now bloodstained robes—all while folded on his knees--a pitiful display.

You rose on shaky legs, picking the gold ornament back into your palm. At the very least, you could sell this. His carcass would easily hide underneath the sands of Nazuchi beach.

…

…

…

No.

No, something was wrong.

“How…how are you still conscious?”

Although he was clearly affected, and you witnessed his body overloading, the way his head snapped in your direction, and managed an irate expression, devoid of obvious pain that was there mere seconds ago—fascination erupted inside your chest.

“That’s….that’s mine. Give it back!” The demand lacked the vitriol you expected. Instead, it was coated in a breathy plea. “Please! My...my heart...”

“I…” you were at a loss for words. “T-this?” You opened your hand, and his arm—like an instinct awakened within him—darted out to wrench it from your grasp. But, without the support, his body weight lost to gravity.

“Agh-!” He fell, wincing but his arm never went down. “Anything…anything, but that feather.”

Moonlight flooded in as you stared down at your handiwork. And your subordinates, who carried in the odor of sake, who finally noticed that you hadn’t joined in on their hasty celebrations, ran to pin Scaramouche, yanking his arms behind his back, with metal cuffs this time.

“Boss! Are you okay?”

You only hummed at their concern.

"I don't need attention. Our prize does."

Scaramouche, in his hazed state, did not register the moniker. His body forced into rigidness, exhaustion eating at his strength, he only groaned.

Ambling toward the crumpled man, you kneeled, ignoring how the dull ache of your ribs made itself known. Your men, perplexed, slowly backed away, giving you and him some space. He sighed softly as you pulled him into your lap, knees a pillow for his weary head. Taking his face in your hands, you inspected his pulse.

Nothing. Perhaps it was too weak, or too erratic, and yet he continued breathing; clearly alive. How? You wondered. Expected from someone who came from the Raiden herself. Brushing a stray hair sticking to his face, you smiled down at him. What a precious thing he was.

His pupils dilated at your touch, a shudder ravaging through his body. It ached.

"I'm glad you survived. It would have been a shame," you hummed, engulfing him in your gaze. “Out of everyone I’ve come across, you’re the most interesting.”

“You'll pay for this," he choked out, squeezing his eyes shut as he clenched his teeth. His words hardly stung. They held no edge.

"Perhaps," you whispered, parting his fist to place the feather into his grasp. "But for now, I win. I dont need this anymore, since I have you."

"You-"

"Hey, has anyone ever told you?"

"H-huh?" Scaramouche coughed again, too weak to do anything but softly huff.

You began to carefully unwrap his juban away.

"What do you think you're—" the Prince gasped, but was silenced with a finger to his lips.

The robe now discarded, you examined the blood painting over his complexion, the glass a mosaic on his figure.

"My Lord, you really do look beautiful in red."

You carefully started removing the shards out of his figure. His blood stained your skin. But he didn't squirm.

Instead, he whispered a promise under his breath, only for his ears.

"When I get my hands on you, and I win..." Scaramouche muttered, clutching his feather in his palm.

"I'm sure you will too."

.

[dedicatednotobsessed]

The Mark of the Dragon [Aegon Targaryen x Reader]

Series masterlist || Other HOTD stories [requests open]

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Summary: You grew up on the streets of Fleabottom for the majority of your life being orphaned at the young age of ten. Apart from your striking hair color, the only thing you inherited from your family was a birthmark on the back of your left shoulder blade. On the week of festivities to celebrate the King’s eldest, Aegon the Second, you end up encountering him. You help him forget about his duties of being Prince and Heir to the Iron Throne until one fateful night…. [AU based where Aegon was crowned heir instead of Rhaenyra]. 

Warnings in this chapter: Innuendos to fingering/female masturbation; innuendos to getting a blowjob {male giving female}; light petting; light fingering.

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Chapter I

An old tale goes that Aegon the Conqueror shared a mark with his wives, a mark in the shape of a dragon’s head. It is said that according to Valyrian marriage customs, Aegon married his eldest sibling, Visenya, although his eyes were after his younger sister Rhaenys.

Rhaenys was said to reject her brother’s advances at first, believing it was wrong for her to court her brother who was already wed to Visenya although she could not even deny the attraction she had towards him. Every day Aegon would shower her in gifts from the most exquisite dresses to the brightest of jewels proving his love for her. In response, Rhaenys told him; “a dragon does not need material possessions. She does not need clothes or jewels; she only needs the physical touch of her mate.”

Aegon had wanted to show Rhaenys he could be a proper mate for her and devised a plan. He had set up a flight above the stars with his beloved sister; him on Balerion and her on Meraxes. It was a glistening night above the water and when they landed on the shores of Dragonstone.

Aegon was gentle with his hands as they found the laces of Rhaenys’ red dress, his sister having a playful smirk on her lips. “What are you doing, Aegon?” She asked quietly.

“You said yourself all a dragon needs is physical touch.” His lips brushed against hers, getting the ties undone. “And I would like to show you that physical touch you need.”

Rhaenys’ smirk turned into a small smile, her hands easily finding the buckles to Aegon’s doublet. Her lips crashed with his in a heated kiss as he pushed her dress down slowly by the sleeves. She released the kiss for air and quickly helped get his tunic off although she stopped at the sight before her.

“A dragon,” She breathed, her fingers gingerly tracing the shape of the birthmark that rested upon his left pectoral- a dragon’s head.

Aegon furrowed his brows as he watched Rhaenys with a curious glint in his violet eyes. She helped him pull the rest of her dress down and his gaze settled on the matching birthmark wrapped around her right hip. He took a deep breath gripping her by the thighs and pushing her up against a nearby rock, his lips moving back to hers.

“Marry me,” He suddenly mumbled against her lips.

“What?”

Aegon gripped her chin lightly so she would look at him. “That mark,” He breathed out. “Visenya has one just the same on her lower back…you are made for me, my dear Rhaenys. Marry me before the next moon cycle.”

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It was rare to see the streets of Fleabottom in such a festive state, especially the lower parts although the gracious King had made sure that all of King’s Landing’s subjects were to celebrate his eldest son and his name day coming by the end of the week. To you, it was the perfect time to gain a few coins…and not in the most honorable way.

You pushed your way through the crowd; children were running about with loud squeals passing them, a few men already drunk and trying to catch the eye of a desperate whore. You hummed a bit picking up a sweet green apple as you passed a vendor’s stall. You always believed the more gold that lined a man’s pocket, the more foolish he seemed to be.

Your eyes scanned the area as you took a bite into your apple, furrowing your brows a bit. It was quite hard to see possible targets from your position- you needed a better view and knew the perfect place to go. The Madame Madelyne was never keen on your presence and so you needed to get into her establishment without being caught.

You crept into the alleyway beside the brothel feeling along its stone walls until you found the loose stones. You grunted while pulling one free and began to pull the stones surrounding it; you were able to wiggle your way inside once the hole was big enough, it led into the small kitchens tucked away in the corner. Hardly anyone was in there during the busy hours.

“I hope they do not fix that soon,” You mumbled blowing out a breath while tugging your dress down a bit furrowing your brows as you did so.

You sauntered out into the main area being greeted with various couplings- some were men with men, women with women. In a brothel there was no judgement and one was free to live the fantasies that lurked in the darkest part of their mind. Your heart swelled at the sounds of pleasure, it made it easier to take gold from the gullible.

You grunted as you suddenly ran into a body, having tripped a bit while you were trying to make your way through. You looked up to snap at the figure but froze at the piercing violet eyes staring you down- the violet eyes of a dragon. The Prince grabbed your arm so you would not fall backwards, offering you a charming smile as he did so.

“Are you all right?” His eyes scanned over your body, the smile turning into a small lustful smirk. “You should be more careful, sweet one.”

You narrowed your eyes at the nickname before yanking your arm away. “You ran into me if I recall,” You spat.

The Prince’s smirk slowly fell, a look of surprise washing over his features. After a moment though, he chuckled. “I am sure I can change your mind with a good fuck,” He whispered reaching out once more.

You scoffed but let him pull you close by the waist, placing your hands on his chest. “You have come a long way for a good fuck.”

He hummed in response. “Perhaps.” He leaned close to your ear. “Or perhaps I have come a long way for someone to steal the coin off my person,” He whispered, his hot breath tickling your ear.

You jumped slightly when he suddenly grabbed your left hand that traveled south towards his breeches’ pockets. You met his eyes once more; the eyes of a dragon will be the most terrifying sight, your father used to tell you. You do not know if they are looking down their next meal.

“Do you believe me to be stupid?” He questioned not letting go of your hand as you struggled against him.

“Well, forgive me, My Prince…” You used the title in almost a mocking manner; “but I tend to believe most royals are quite daft.”

Aegon clicked his tongue. “You certainly have the mouth on you, girl.” He licked his lips while he looked over you. “But perhaps…I can find a better use for it.”

Your face contorted into disgust. “I would rather rot in the cells.”

“Actually, that comment could cause you to lose your tongue, but I am feeling generous.”

You stepped back once he let you go, furrowing your brows. “Am I supposed to feel grateful?”

Aegon chuckled. “I would. I can make sure you feel grateful.”

You hung your head, a small laugh passing your lips. “I will make a deal with you, My Prince….” You began, taking his hand. “Let me show you what real gratitude looks like then we may do what you like.”

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The First Night

You leaned against the wall fiddling with the few pieces of gold you managed to take off of a fat drunkard. You told Aegon to meet you under a worn down sign of an inn called The Weary Archer. It was more of a run down ale house with quite a few shady characters, but those shady characters turned into good profit for you. You were always one to take a little gamble at life.

You glanced up hearing the footsteps, a small smirk filling your face at the sight of the Prince walking over, the hood to his cloak still pulled up. “Why are you concealing yourself? Everyone knows who you are and this celebration is for you.”

Aegon chuckled a bit. He had chosen his whores over you the previous night but he had given you a chance this night. “I do not want my special guest to be bombarded.”

You cocked a brow. “Your special guest?”

“Well, you do not enjoy me calling you sweet one.”

You hummed a bit. “Perhaps it is because I believe I don’t deserve the title of being the Prince’s sweet one.”

Aegon smirked at your words. “Give it time.”

You returned Aegon’s smirk before glancing around and taking his hand once more. “I thought I would start the night off with a play in the square. I know it may not be your sort of taste, My Prince but it could give you a good laugh.”

Aegon’s smirk turned into a playful smile as you tugged him into the busy streets of Fleabottom, your own silver hair poking out from underneath your hood. You had similar features to a Targaryen, having vague memory of your father with his own silver locks and deep violet eyes. There had always been whispers as you walked the streets which led you to be a bit more concealing; it was hard to steal when you stood out from the crowd.

You squeezed Aegon’s hand as you stood in the midst of the crowd gathered around the small stage, mediocre actors performing a story about a lowborn girl falling for a handsome Prince; something out of those fantasy books. You smiled lightly hearing a chuckle slip past Aegon’s lips here and there.

“Are you enjoying the story, My Prince?” You asked softly glancing up at him.

Aegon smirked a bit looking down at you. “It is quite different from the stories I was read to as a child.”

“Oh?” You cocked a brow at him. “And what kind of stories were you read to as a child?”

“History about the Targaryens…nothing too exciting.”

You hummed. “It does sound quite boring.”

“Do you know any good stories then?” He whispered in your ear, the crowd laughing at how foolish the actors were being on stage.

“Like most common folk, I can not read, My Prince,” You replied quietly, your eyes watching the play. “My father used to acquire books and would show me the beautiful painted pictures within them.”

Aegon only hummed in response, clapping once the play was over. “Now where to….” He trailed off for a moment, a look of realization washing over him. “I did not catch your name the previous night.”

You smirked grabbing onto his hand. “You can call me thief for now if you’d like.”

He chuckled at that. “That would give you away, surely. You must have some sort of name I can call you.”

You stayed silent while beginning to push through the bustling crowd of people. “In time, Good Prince.”

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The Second Night

You walked down the street, arm in arm with Aegon while looking over the various vendors. Every merchant was trying to outsell the other, trying to entice you to come over and look at their wares. You held up your hand, giggling a bit at their desperation.

“Do you see anything you like?” Aegon asked you softly. “Or anyone?”

You met his eyes and smirked at the violet lustful flames. Another night had passed where Aegon had ended up with the whores in Madame Madelyne’s establishment. His hunger seemed to only grow though; he was not satisfied with the common whores.

“Perhaps,” You responded after a moment. “But I rather keep my urges to myself.”

Aegon groaned. “There has to be someone…is there anyone in your company at The Weary Archer?”

You shook your head eyeing a woman as you passed. You reached out gingerly taking her coin purse that was hanging off the side of the belt around her dress, stuffing it quickly into your own purse. Aegon watched you curiously but did not say anything.

“It could get quite lonesome without the company,” Aegon said after a moment.

You laughed. “You act as though I do not know how to keep myself entertained on a rainy night.” You turned to him stopping at a pillar. You placed your hands on his chest, leaning up slightly to reach his ear. “I like to use my fingers,” You whispered.

You pulled back, a small smirk forming on your lips at the visible hard swallow Aegon made. “But maybe I do need a second pair of hands to help satisfy my needs. I do not always…reach my limit. A whore’s mouth can be good but a Prince’s tongue would do quite nicely.” Your eyes flickered down to his breeches, your smirk only widening at the growing sight. “You best get that taken care. It can be quite uncomfortable.”

Aegon grunted, gripping onto your hips through your dress. “Perhaps I would like some help from a companion. It has been a difficult week for me as you can imagine and I need to relieve some stress.”

You rolled your eyes but the smirk was still present. “I can only imagine how hard it is being a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“It can be especially when it is your name day week and you truly do not wish to celebrate it. My father says he is to announce to the Realms that I am to be his heir once he passes.”

You furrowed your brows at the saddened tone to his voice and moved his hands from your hips, linking your arm with his once more. “That does not sound too bad, being King. You will be pampered and can have your subjects do as you please.”

Aegon looked down with a nod lightly tapping your arm before giving it a light squeeze, his actions confusing you but you stayed silent. “I never wanted the throne. If I could I would give it to my half sister, Rhaenyra or even my younger brother Aemond. Gods know they would be better suited for it than me.”

You looked up at him, placing a hand over his, his flesh warm. “You need to have more confidence in yourself,” You said offering him a small smile when he looked down at you. “A good ruler always rules with the confidence within their heart.”

Aegon opened his mouth slightly but closed it again as you moved your other hand to his cheek, your touch gentle. “You only need confidence in yourself,” You whispered.

The Prince blinked in surprise; it seemed as though he had never gotten such kindness before. He snapped his head over as vendor stuffed a basket full of roses in his face.

“Ah!” The older lady recognized the silver haired man, giving him a smile filled with rotten and yellowed teeth. “Would you like a rose for the lady? It will only be three gold.”

Before you could reject the vendor, Aegon reached into his coin purse and handed it to the woman getting a yellow rose. He turned to you lightly pushing your hood off taking in your full appearance. Your silver hair was darker than his but it caused shock to wash over him nonetheless.

He didn’t make a comment about your hair as he pushed it back behind your ear before slipping the rose in. “My rose,” He breathed out.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. “I-I’m sorry?”

Aegon chuckled. “Since you will not give me your name, you will be called my rose.”

Your expression softened, a soft smile forming. “I like that.”

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The Third Night

“My Prince, this is too much.” You laughed while looking yourself over in the longview mirror.

Aegon hummed while leaning back in his seat, his eyes scanning over your body. He had gifted you a lilac colored gown made of a light fabric with a slight sheerness to it; it had an intricate pattern on the plunging neckline paired with a simple amethyst necklace settled over your breasts.

“It is not enough I say.” He stood up as you turned to face him fully. “You look absolutely stunning, Rose.”

You giggled at the nickname still not used to it while you grabbed your cloak clasping it around yourself. “Are you going to tell me where we are going tonight?”

The Prince blew out a tired breath. “It has been a long day and I need to distract myself,” He replied plainly. “We are going to be watching the fireworks show at Madame Madelyne’s establishment on the roof.”

You made a face of disgust at the mention of the Madame. “Are you planning to have your way with me at the brothel?”

Aegon smirked lightly. “Would it be bad if I said yes?”

You rolled your eyes but grabbed onto his hand; you did not let him see the smirk lingering on your features. You led him into the streets once more, people gleefully shouting as they chased each other. Some were in the square dancing causing a bright smile to appear.

“Do you know how to dance, My Prince?”

“Not particularly.” Aegon rubbed the back of his neck a bit sheepishly.

You giggled tugging him towards the square. “It is really not hard, My Prince.”

Aegon opened his mouth to protest but you took his arm spinning with him. A small laugh passed your lips as he grabbed both of your arms bringing you close. You interlocked your fingers with his, looking into his violet eyes. They seemed brighter than the first night you spent with him and it is causing your chest to fill with warmth.

You felt your heart beat faster as the music picked up while you danced around the center of the square, laughing loudly when you nearly ran into Aegon, his hands going to your waist to support you. It seemed as though nothing else mattered in that moment; not the band playing the music or the other couplings around you. You could not describe the feeling the Prince gave you but it made your stomach do flips every time he looked at you with similar colored eyes that shone as bright as the sun.

Your breath came in heavy pants when the final drum beat echoed, everyone clapping for the performers but your focus stayed on Aegon. His eyes flickered from yours to your lips before a small smile came on his lips. “The sun is to set soon, we should go to our spot.”

You had begrudgingly followed Aegon towards Madame Madelyne’s establishment, gasping a bit at the view before you. Madame Madelyne had one of the higher buildings in Fleabottom although you never climbed onto the roof just to see how lovely of a view it was.

“It is quite beautiful up here,” You breathed, the light wind blowing at your hair.

“I will have to agree,” Aegon whispered although his eyes were not on the city view.

He tugged you down lightly to sit beside him just as the night sky lit up with the first burst of color- red for House Targaryen. You awed as another shortly followed along with two more the color green for the Queen’s house. Your eyes lit up with each firework that brightened the night sky before your eyes went over to Aegon but he was still not watching the show.

You furrowed your brows feeling him place a hand on your cheek and a force drew you closer to him. Your lips brushed his before they connected in a light kiss, Aegon’s hand moving to the back of your neck to pull you closer.

You gingerly reached up placing a hand on his cheek, the kiss heated. You felt his other hand travel down your skirt, not thinking anything of it but frowned feeling him move past your stomach. He took three of his fingers and began to rub you over your dress before he slowly lifted his skirts.

“A-Aegon,” You whispered against his lips.

“You wanted a Prince’s tongue,” He reminded you quietly continuing to rub you.

It sent a chill through your spine the closer he got to the opening, pushing your cunt open with his index and middle finger. You fought back a small moan, feeling your breath come in short pants as he pushed his fingers in while he let out a satisfied hum.

“A wet cunt is the best kind of cunt,” Aegon whispered against your lips.

As he pulled back to lean his head down, you took the opportunity to bite down hard on his bottom lip causing him to grunt and pull away all together.

“You stupid bitch!” He shouted reaching up to feel the blood forming at his lip.

“And I told you to give it time,” You snapped with a scoff while collecting your cloak. “I was right about you royals.”

You scoffed and turned to leave, Aegon staying on the roof, baffled. You hoped it would be the last night you would see the short silver haired prince but you did not know that it was far from it.

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Tagged readers: ✨ @mrsdaemontargaryen ✨ || @aleemendoza2425-blog || @clairacassidy || @ladybug0095 || @namelesslosers || @neenieweenie

[gomzdrawfr]

Dragon!Price x Corvid!Raven AU

This brainrot has tAKEN OVER MY HEAD I SWEAR

bonus + some story if you're interested

bonus

okay so, the idea is that Raven is...predominantly a Raven hybrid(LMAO) but I figured to incorporate some of the Crow and Magpie habits into her

Basically, Raven's been travelling around after she was nearly killed by her kind(hence the scar on her face and the single wing - also a tribute to her actual lore where her back was stabbed), barely able to survive until she stumbled upon Price's den, and WOAH THATS A LOTTA GOLD

so it started off small, where she steals some gold, just enough to survive the week, but then the curiosity grew and she finds herself back to the den, over and over again

I mean there's so much more than just gold coins, there was a bunch of other treasures alike and they're all. so. shiny.

How could she resist?

and so day by day, she explores the den, it's absolutely massive, sometimes she might even slide down those piles of coins for fun

one day a glint caught her attention, it looked like a porcelain pale owl mask, and when she tries it on it was a perfect fit, she kept it afterwards.

the owner of the den seemingly never once appeared no matter how long she waited, and so she assumes it was a long lost forgotten treasure someone had.

she didnt had the intention to steal everything no, in all honestly the den was located somewhere far and dark, and it was only accessible by a very small hole that she squeezed herself through in her full bird form.

it was a safe place to stay and so she did.

until one day when she on her usual walk and picking up a crown that the pile of gold coins shifted, and it reveals......

bright orange scales.

and an eye, which opened once the gold coins stopped.

little did she know, the owner of the den, Dragon!Price has been hibernating beneath the treasures, and now he was awaken by a pesky bird.

YES think about that one scene in Hobbit this was 100% inspired by it

some Dragon!Price hc in this au:

used to take part in battles and territorial fights, which results in many scars, especial the one in his left eyes, one of those fight eventually results him to lost a wing(yes, bluegiragi with their single wing Price for credit)

prefer to be in his hybrid form where his half human half dragon, because being a big lizard boy takes up hella space and hard to satiate his hunger

but he does hibernate as a dragon cuz well he's home, and it feels great to be weighted down by all his treasures

very greedy, if he wants something he'll get it, also dragon hoarding tendencies

havent thought about this but I reckon this so call "den" is just a big hole underneath a castle maybe - ah well just yoinking Hobbit's Lonely Mountain

also possessive :]

Raven herself has shiny fur...and he loves shiny too....so..... :p

[ladykailitha]

Since I have a write up about every other AU I have in this poll, I thought I’d give the medieval AU one as well.

Albert Munson III was traitorous bastard whose only thought was making the next gold coin. Coin he never seemed to be able to hold on to. Gambling, booze, and women were only some of Albert’s vices. His younger, more level headed brother, Wayne did everything he could to try and keep as much of Edward’s inheritance as possible, but it was a losing battle.

Finally Albert spent the wrong man’s coin and ended up beheaded at the behest of the crown. The two remaining Munsons were stripped of their lands, title, what little was left of their coffers.

King Lawrence demanded that Wayne replace his court jester, but Edward stepped in and volunteered, saying that he knew how to sing, and to play the lute. King Lawrence agreed.

The point of the jester is to speak truth to power. To make the king laugh in front of his court and then think later in private. Eddie was good. He was just getting a feel for the old King when the man passes away suddenly. Edward would have suspected the young prince, Stephan, of murdering the old man. But the prince cried harder then the queen mother, Queen Penelope at the funeral.

Queen Penelope is eager to find Stephan a bride as soon as possible. Duchess Annika, called Nancy by her friends. The Marquise Robbyne of Buckley. Her first husband died while she was still young enough to be married off again. Ladies Tamera and Victoria. But the brightest gem is Princess Christine of Cunningham. Are all brought to the castle with a gift and their doweries to entice King Stephan to the alter.

Too bad his eyes tend to wander toward his jester then bevy of beauties his mother keeps parading around.

Sir Dustin is Stephan’s personal servant and guard. Hopper is chief of the guards that include Sirs Lucas, Michael, and William. Lord Jonathan was given head of his family’s fading house when his father died in the battle that Albert, Earl of Munson had sold the king’s own weapons to the opposition.