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aspiring-house-husband · 2 months

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…oh. my god. this may be one of the longest things i’ve ever written. you want some sub/top regency kink a/b/o? you want some heat-fucking? you want some knotting? have i got a treat for you.

normally, a king would be proud to have all alpha sons. a sign of a strong bloodline, strong heirs. dominance and assurance in the future.

this king was not proud. he was scared. all three sons were alphas- his daughters, too. every child an alpha. what would normally be a strength was a curse, as it could not help him now.

there was a young king, butting up against their border. what had once thought to be a nuisance or even a weakness, their young king was new, inexperienced, unknown. but when the kingdom opposite this royal alpha’d family attempted to take advantage of the young and inexperienced king, their kingdom fell. the young king’s empire grew. as did his army, and his power. and his bloodlust.

he crushed a revolt, only a year later, from his conquested kingdom’s militia. he carved out pieces from his eastern and western borders. through every battle, every negotiation, every victory, he proved that his blade, tongue, and mind were equally sharp. he was accruing power at a rate that made long-standing reigns weary.

the kingdom he inherited by blood adored him. those kingdoms he conquered respected him. those kingdoms bordering him were terrified.

the alpha king, of an alpha queen, with five alpha children, desperately wanted to avoid war. an ally was preferred to an enemy, and he saw what happened to kingdoms who resisted. peace was preferred, and what better way than offering a spouse to the young king, preferably an omega to be controlled and toyed with, so that the kingdom could remain uncontrolled, untouched?

his youngest son, his sweet prince. an alpha, but the most likely to submit to a young but obviously alpha king. he was dressed in ceremonial cloth and jewels and taken to the young king. the prince was stunned by the beauty of the king… but not the ruggedness the prince expected. he was not a muscular and scarred military man with blood splattered across his chest, but instead a small man with legs crossed and his chin resting, bored, in his palm. soft hair framed a curious expression around bright, curious eyes.

“young alpha prince,” the king says, the corners of his lips only barely tugging into a smile, “welcome to my kingdom. welcome to my home.”

the prince kneels before the king and bows, touching his head to the floor, his robes pooled around him on the tiled floor as a great island of nobility. he stays as the king stands, graceful steps taking him to the prince.

“quite generous of your father, sending me a toy of such noble stature.” the king circles him, his gaze drinking in the prince. “stand.”

the prince does as ordered and raises his chin. he finds the king slightly shorter than him. “an alpha, i smell. tell me, are you afraid of me?”

the prince lets his gaze flick to the king, who still circles like a predator.

“majesty, i will regard you however it is you should require me to,” the prince responds, and the king finally smiles full and across his face, but his eyes are dark. he comes to stand in front of the prince, and lifts a hand to his face, but stops just short of touching.

“may i?” he asks, and the prince hesitates in surprise at the question before nodding. the king’s hand is warm as it slowly cups his face.

“have the prince shown to his quarters and dressed,” the king addresses his men without breaking eye contact with the prince. “return him to me once he is settled in.”

the prince marvels at his living space. it has high ceilings and double paned windows that face the western skies, a plush bed larger than the one he’d had at home, and a bath with working plumbing. the hearth was alive with warm fire when he arrived, and two servants awaited to help him dress and fetch him food. not even as the prince of his kingdom had he ever felt so taken care of, so privileged. only when his handmen showed him to his wardrobe did he feel again like a plaything. his closet was not befitting a prince- it suited a concubine. hardly covering cloth draped from metal chains and jewels, his dignity spared by only a few inches. he chose the outfit that covered the most of his skin, but even that wasn’t much, and what it hardly covered could still be seen through the fabric.

“do you know what the king wants of me?” he asked one of his handmaidens, and she shook her head.

“i’ve long stopped questioning his intention. he hasn’t lead us wrong yet. he did order, though, that robes be made available to you, if your decency was less than to your liking.” she opened yet another wardrobe, and the prince sighed in relief that he could at least drape a large fur cloak over himself before he was sent before the king.

he wasn’t led back to the throne room, as he had expected. instead he was taken to an office study, where the king sat hunched at the end of a long dark wood table over maps and other papers. he took a seat at the king’s left and dared not look at the scribblings, lest he be reprimanded for curiosity above his station.

“your father is a smart man.” the king breaks the silence. “even being so far from the throne, he would’ve prepared you, yes?”

“Yes, highness,” the prince responds.

“Perhaps you will notice something i haven’t. this river isn’t supposed to flood- it never did, during my mother’s reign. but it has thrice in mine, and i can’t work out why. each time it floods, it destroys homes, and i can’t have that any longer.”

the prince sits in stunned silence before he responds.

“you’re asking… my opinion, sire?”

“why wouldn’t i? a pretty face does not a lesser mind make.”

the prince can only be glad his complexion hides blushes before he leans in to study the maps.

the royals emerge hours later with flood plane maps and funding plans for village relocation drawn up. the king takes the hand of the prince and sends him back to his chambers, but not without first again holding his face.

“my pet, from now on,” he says, his smile unexpectedly fond, “sit at my right hand.”

the bed is too plush for the prince; he cannot stop his mind from wandering. the king was not at all what he had expected. not just small and soft, beautiful and graceful instead of rugged and rough, but also kind, generous. though the prince was rarely called anything but ‘toy’, ‘pet’, ‘gift’, he was treated like not only a royal but a confidant, an advisor. the touches that he had expected from his new king had never come, and those that did were only soft enough to make him desire more. and his plush pillows were no help, hugged into the curve of his frame and just the right plushness. it made him buck before falling asleep. made him grind as he woke. made him whimper through his dreams of serving the king as he once thought he would be required to.

“highness,” the prince begins one morning, over breakfast. “is there anything more i could be doing for you?”

“for me?” the king asks, setting down his utensils and locking his fingers together, resting his chin to his knuckles and his elbows to the table. “how so?”

“i am but to serve you,” says the prince, “it is my purpose, my life. if there would ever be anything more you need from me, you need only ask.”

he couldn’t be sure, but the prince swore he smelled an arousal spike, and for the first time it made him wonder at the king’s designation. all had assumed him an alpha, but not once had the prince smelled an alpha scent from him. until this moment, in fact, not a scent at all… his eyes drifted to the metal chains that wrapped his neck with links and leather. the prince has assumed these pieces armor, but maybe they were more. maybe they hid the king’s scent.

“you are servant to me,” echos the king, fondness in his voice and tugging at the end of his lips. “you believe so?”

“i am lost to it,” says the prince, wishing he could take back how his voice cracked. too many times recently had he been erect in the presence of the king, his only disguise being his fur cloaks. too many time had he woken up dripping with the idea of the king ordering him around, owning him the way he truly was owned.

“very well,” says the king, and he stands from his breakfast. “walk with me.” the prince gladly does so, half a pace behind the king.

“with honesty, i have been waiting,” he says, hands clasped at his back. “when i took you as my own, i wanted it to be of your choice. i couldn’t help but be impatient.”

the king’s chamber door opened into a small room first, empty but for light furniture. this is where the king turned to the prince, hopping up onto a table top to sit nearly the same height as the prince.

“touch me,” he says, his voice not even close to hard enough for it to be an order. the prince obeys nonetheless, his fingers rising up the king’s sides to tease his tunic over his head. still, the leather and link around the king’s neck remains. the prince moans with the skin revealed to him, and breathes out raggedly.

“you mustnt tell anyone,” the king says, and the prince blindly nods without knowing what he was meant to keep secret, far too focused on exploring the king with his hands and the way the king’s legs have latched into him and knocked the fur cloak from his body. he manages, though, to follow the king’s hands to the armor around his neck, and a few seconds later the armor falls to his lap.

the prince’s head spins. not only was the king’s scent entirely new to him, new and perfect, but it was omega scent. it was omega, and aroused, and strong, and so incredibly sweet smelling that it must’ve been crafted just for him. if he hadn’t been hard, he would’ve swelled to full size from the smell alone.

“don’t be dumbfounded,” the king says, “i know i’m an omega, but that’s why i’m so strong in battle, so people-“

“i don’t care,” says the prince, diving his face to the king’s neck and scooping the king by the legs into his arms, “i don’t care what people assume about you. you smell so good, highness, that i wouldn’t care if they all were watching us, right now.”

the king moaned and held onto the prince as he opened the door to the king’s bedroom. he had never seen it before, and now he could guess why- the scent of omega, aroused and needy, hung heavy in the air. the prince placed the king down in his bed, which now that he could see, he could tell was filled with pillows and blankets, woven into a perfect nest. still he did not leave the king’s neck, salivating over the scent that made his head spin. he lathered open-mouthed kisses along his neck, scraping his teeth over the omega’s scent gland and prompting a wanton moan straight from the prince’s dreams. the prince cursed under his breath and unthinkingly thrusted his hips, his thin clothing doing nothing to hide either his arousal or the sensation of grinding against the warmth of the king’s body.

“pet,” says the king, breathing ragged but hands still strong as he holds the prince away from him, just enough. “undress me, pet.” the prince didn’t nod, didn’t hesitate, just pushed the king onto his back and grabbed his waistband, lifting his hips as he yanked downward. he did it with ferocity, desperation, and hardly had the mind to hear the king’s chuckle over the sight he was greeted with. the king’s hole was nothing short of everything he’d dreamed of in every rut-fevered sleep, soft and wet and warm, so wet he was dripping. the scent was strong and still so sweet, tuned to his nose alone, like it was made for him. he kneeled before his king and held onto his thighs, sliding forward, but the king closed his legs and trapped the prince just beyond his knees.

“my king?” he asked, desperate eyes looking up at the king as his chest heaved. was this what catching an omega’s heat felt like? he had rut before, but this was different, like he was driven by something external and so ravenous that he could devour the king. but he didn’t smell heat, as he had before from his oldest brother’s wife. the sticky sweet smell wasn’t among the king’s scent, his beautiful dripping warm and wet and soft scent. this feeling was all his own, without heat, without rut. he was this pathetically desperate, all his own.

the king had sat up, and finally his hands pet through the prince’s hair, held his jaw.

“put your mouth to me, pet,” says the king, “your lips, your tongue. and don’t emerge until you’ve tasted my high and swallowed it. don’t come out of it until you’ve smeared yourself in my slick and no one will be able to even smell your breath without knowing i’ve been on your tongue.”

with an unprompted moan the king falls back down into his bed and opened his legs for the prince, who presses the king’s thighs further open and eats like a starving animal. he nearly cums through his clothes at the taste, his cock strained and weeping and impossibly, painfully hard. he does not spare a hand for himself, too focused on the king’s bucking hips, his loud moan whenever he sucked against the king’s cock, the way his moans cracked and whimpered when he dove his tongue deep. to his surprise, it doesn’t take long; the king clamps down around his tongue and bathes his face in the smells of satisfaction and warmth and arousal and most of all, need.

the prince feels like a wild animal rising from his kill, his face dripping and his breathing rough. the king looks upon him with pleasure, his breath hard, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“toy, love,” says the king, barely untangling his fingers from where they had gripped into his bedsheets, “i had planned to do a lot of walking tomorrow. force me to change my plans.”

the prince shivers and undresses himself quickly. the clothing he wore couldve easily been torn, or even pulled to the side, but he took the time to yank them from his body, catching sight of his own cock for the first time that morning. he was surprised to notice an angry, throbbing knot- he had rut?

his hesitation catches the attention of the king, who sits up enough to see the knot, and his moan is nothing but heavenly as he falls to the bed again.

“i’ll milk that best if you’ve had me twice more,” promises the king. “get me there, toy.”

thrusting into the king nearly had him over the edge, but he couldn’t swell his knot without being deep inside the king, without satisfying his orders. he had to control himself, had to fuck into the king’s sloppy, throbbing, hot and wet hole without losing himself to it, but it felt like a pointless battle. he was too far gone, the scent of omega burning in his nose and making his eyes half lid, his hips snapping into the king and pulling back only halfway before impacting with the king’s tightly wrapped legs before thrusting deep again.

he growled in dissatisfaction—not the right angle, not deep enough, not lewd enough moans from the king—and pulled out to flip the king onto his stomach, pulling his hips back, and thrusting in. the noise he pulled from his omega was high-pitched and filthy, and the prince’s gaze moves between the hungry and soaking wet hole that suckles against his knot with every thrust, and the blissful expression and soft, drooling lips of the king, pressed into his bedsheets.

he barely notices as the king gets tighter, and tighter, before he clamps down again and screams, his voice broken but loud, catching and announcing every shudder, pulse, tremble, twitch, broken with soft words the prince could barely hear, words as “toy,” and “love,” and “yes,” and “pet,” and, the worst of them all, the one that had him throbbing, “alpha.”

the prince pulls out to flip the king over again. he is pliant and panting, flushed down the front of his body and looking up at the prince with undisguised adoration, obsession, lust. the prince has to look away to focus; he wants nothing more than to be inside the king and satisfy him again, but he needs to make it better. the nest he had crawled into is well constructed, and he wouldn’t dare rip at the pillows built into walls, but there is one that doesn’t seem to be for either structure or for laying heads on, one that seems thick enough. he lifts the king and lays the pillow under his back, propping up his hips to the prince, splaying his thighs open to show the soaked and reddened, throbbing, abused hole. the prince has to break his own hypnosis to move his eyes away and back to the king.

he crawls up, cock hard beneath him, and for the first time kisses the king, their mouths dancing together, tongues tangling and teeth clacking. he sinks into the king’s hole like he belongs there, lined up perfectly and finding no resistance. the king moans into his mouth and his arms come up around the prince, nails latching to his back.

“knot me,” begs the king, his ankles locking behind the prince. “knot me full, take me, mark me deep.”

the words were pleas, not orders, but the prince obeys without question. he thrusts into the king with what feels like every ounce of power in his body, deep and fast and strong. his body is alight- every sensation his to memorize. the sting of his omega’s nails on his shoulder blades. the lustful moans just next to his ear. the near-stickiness as their bodies part before coming together again. the warmth of his omega’s body. the heavenly softness of his hole. every sensation, his, and too easy to burn into his mind forever. his omega begins to tighten, to whimper, his moans sliding higher pitched, and the prince keeps his same pace, desperate to please and to do as the king ordered. the king does not cum, yet, holds himself with tension in every muscle and teeth bared.

“knot me, alpha,” he whispers, eyes bright and hungry. “so deep your seed will never find its way back out.”

the prince drops his gaze to where they meet, his knot nestled against the king’s entrance, and he lifts himself so that he can hold onto the king’s hips. he stares at the fluttering muscle of the king’s body, trying to suck him deeper, trying to be one with him, and his mind swims. still, he pulls, strong and slowly pulling the king toward him as he pushes his hips closer. the king breathes shallow, unable to see where they meet and so watching the prince, pliant and soft and beautiful as the prince guides them together. he pulls with more strength, grits his teeth, pushes forward until they snap together, knocking the prince onto his elbows again, face inches away from the king’s, who looks lustful but bewildered, as though he has looked upon heaven for the first time.

“alpha,” he breathes, unfocused eyes finally moving to the prince. “my alpha.”

“my omega,” answers the prince, and he kisses him deeply.

he rocks his hips gently, unable to move the knot but just enough to pull the climax they had both been seconds from. it crashes over the king, who thrashes and screams, and washes over the prince, who collapses and spills. he can feel them throbbing in time, his omega’s hole milking him, pulling everything from him. they bask in it for an eternity, unable to move, unable to speak, hardly able to breathe. finally, the king touches his face again.

“my pet, from now on,” he says, his eyes unfocused and body still trembling, “sleep in my bed. never leave my side. never let me be without you.”

“i am servant to you,” the prince echoes the king’s words of hours ago. “i am whatever you require.”

“whatever i require?” the king repeats, his eyes lazing closed, blissful enough in his knotting and his alpha’s rut to fall asleep, still clamped around a knot and milking it gently. “you are mine.”

the prince no longer felt the need to wear his fur cloaks. whatever skin that the kingdom could see was marked with the king’s adoration, scratches and bites and hickeys decorating every bit of his body. he fetched the king breakfast and helped him dress, but equally undressed him around hallway corners and beneath banquet tables. he let the stuck-up old nobles turn up their noses at his hard cock trapped beneath only shear fabric, all thoughts of embarrassment wiped away by the soft touch of his king, squeezing him and reminding him of the privilege only he wields.

an alpha prince, servant to an omega king. a pet for pleasure and a lover. a toy.

#a/b/o #og #story #non monster #prince #public #heat

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zazter-den · 8 months

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Foul-Mouthed Frit | Stained Glass Circumstances Ch. 1

Series: Snippet #1, Snippet #2, Current

Synopsis- All stained glass begins as frit, but you're not as frit of the warrior in front of you as you probably should be.(Main Scene: Bakugou, Aftercare: Kirishima).

Warnings- Coerced NonCon, Oral Knotting, CumVom, Choking, Clothes Tearing, Degradation, Overstim, Org Denial, Slap(giving), Forced Bond, King/Consort Dynamic, Alt A/B/O, Yandere Bakugou.

Tags- Fantasy AU, BarbarianKing!Bakugou, Dragon!Kirishima, KingConsort!Reader, Black Haired Reader, Isekai, Creampie, Chin Grab, Excessive Seed, Aftercare.

Word Count- 7700, Chapter 1

Your heart thumped against your ribs, unease and curiosity battling it out, as you stood before the imposing blond warrior. On a good day, you couldn't help but feel out of place in the simple hand-me-down dress, a one of few mercies you received from the cold villagers when you arrived. Standing here in front of the decorated barbarian within the confines of the grandiose war tent, you felt dressed in little more than rags. Was this man here to finish the villager's sad attempt at uprising? Surely non-lethal injuries to a handful of soldiers, even if severe, didn't warrant a general's (or whoever's) presence.

Why am I here? I wasn't even involved.

The bodice of the scratchy dress felt nearly too tight to breathe, a physical pressure to match the growing weight of dread settling in your bones. It had been a month since your watery arrival to this world, but it hadn't taken long to miss your modern clothes, modern stressors, and the familiarity of home. A pang of longing shot through you like a static shock, but you pushed it aside, focusing on the intimidating figure ahead.

A shiver ran down your spine as you met the blond's piercing blood red gaze. His throne, made from the bones of fallen beasts long dead and a patterned patchwork of leather, only amplified the imposing aura surrounding him. With each passing moment, you couldn't help but feel like a small, insignificant creature in the presence of a predator.

"Pint-sized for a dragon, aren't ya?" the barbarian growled, his gruff voice boomed in the tense silence, tone heavy with amused disdain. A predatory smirk adorned his face, highlighting his intimidating yet undeniably attractive features. "You're quite the fuckin' anomaly."

Your eyes widened at his words, and for a moment you forgot your unease. You had become so used to the weight by this point that you honestly almost forgot. A hand instinctively went to touch the base of the draconic crystal horns that jutted back from your hairline, a bizzarre feature you had woken to on the lake shore, a side effect of the magic that had forced your entry to this unfamiliar world.

All of the lakeside villagers were human, but you had learned enough about this world's inhabitants to know that that you weren't a true dragon like the ones the citizens of this realm were familiar with—those with wings, a tail, and true dragon features. You are, at your core, still human, and really the horns were the only evidence to suggest otherwise. The asshole wasn't entirely wrong in calling you a mystery.

"Can tell you're no real dragon, some sorta bastard maybe" he remarked, rumbly voice smug. "Though I admit, those crystal horns of yours are intriguing 'nough. You'll pass as an addition to my collection."

You blinked once, twice, as you struggled for a mere second to process the words coming out of the pompous man's mouth before time seemed to resume again.

Should you have been scared? Probably.

But you weren't.

Your eyes narrowed to near slits with incredulity as you peered up at him. White hot anger filled your veins, fear of the undoubtedly dangerous strange warrior forgotten. Being a newcomer to the realm, you couldn't quite comprehend the gravity of the situation in standing before the man in front of you. Being an outsider to the village and their rebellion, also meant you weren't aware yet just how low cowards will sink to save their own skin.

" 'Collection'? " You repeated, scoffing loudly at his arrogance. The gall of him had your nerves shot and common sense short circuiting. All pretenses of appearing as a polite peasant were now firmly out the window, all bets were off. After a month of biting your tongue to rude villagers as you struggled to adjust to your new life, it felt amazing to spit exactly what you were thinking. "Who the fuck do you think you are, blondie?”

The fair haired barbarian's grin only widened at your boldness, relishing the rare occurance. It wasn't often someone had a big enough death wish to challenge him face to face.

"O, sweetheart, not just any 'blondie'," he sneered, weighing the weight his words had on you. "I'm yer fuckin' king." Enjoying the way shock washed over your face, anger clearly forgotten, overshadowed by the realization that you were standing before the most dangerous man in the kingdom.

King Bakugou's amusement was evident as he leaned forward in his seat, his eyes gleaming with sadistic satisfaction at your dumbstruck face. "D'ya wanna know why you're standin' in front of me?" he asked, his tone dripping with condescension. "They offered ya to me, little anomaly," the barbaric royal continued, the corners of his lips curling into a cruel smile. "A barter for their miserable lives after a pitiful 'scuse of a rebellion."

You were shocked, your eyes meeting his with furious disbelief. "So, people I barely know, GAVE me to you to spare themselves?" your words were laced with anger and a sense of betrayal, unable to comprehend the depths of their craven desperation. Sure, they were cold to strangers, but to sacrifice you for their own lives wasn't something you had thought was even a possibility. Had it really been so foolish to want to believe they were finally warming up to you?

The barbarian king's expression hardened as he replied, his voice laced with a sharp edge. "Ya should feel honored," he snapped, his blood red eyes narrowing. Rising from his intimidating throne of giant bone and beast hide, he closed the distance between them with a purposeful stride. The sound of his heavy boots thudded against the packed ground within the war tent until he loomed over you.

“I rarely take consorts,” King Bakugou's hand shot out and firmly grasped your chin, tilting your head up to meet his piercing gaze. His touch was harsh, a firm reminder of the physical might that Bakugou wielded when he so chose. Your heart pounding in your chest as his fingernails dug into your jawline. Leaning in close, his face mere inches away from yours, his voice dropped to a low, dangerous rumble as he continued speaking. “especially not runt freaks like you." The disdain in the cold blooded king's tone sent a chill down your spine.

Your heart dropped, The weight of the revelation pressed heavy against your chest. Mind racing with anger and betrayal as you grappled with the harsh reality of your situation. You had only been in this unfamiliar realm for barely a few weeks and now you stood before the formidable barbarian king, a man who held the power of life and death over countless warriors and civilians alike.

It didn't take years of education, or really much common sense, to know the dangerous consequences of defying a medieval tyrant. You knew you had to keep your anger in check, to try to bite your tongue and submit. At least for now.

Your fate was sealed the moment you stepped into that fucking tent, and survival was now officially the priority.

King Bakugou's sadistic enjoyment of the situation was plain as he ruthlessly analyzed your appearance, his gaze lingering on the translucent crystal horns with an almost dismissive glance. "Yer horns are clear, nothin' special," he remarked, his voice dripping with annoyance. It was clear that your unique crystalline features held little significance in his opinion. However, as his eyes roamed down your body, a more sinister gleam sparked within them.

"Body, on the other hand, is fine enough for a concubine," the blond added with a twisted smirk, his grip on your chin tightening slightly. The shift of the dress' neckline sent a shiver down your spine, baring your shoulder to his inspection. Your heart beat faster as King Bakugou's piercing eyes bore into you, his actions invasive and dehumanizing. Your throat constricted in response to the humiliating position you found yourself in. Even having to resist the urge to pull your chin away from his grasp, knowing that defiance would only lead to suffering of some variety.

His eyes swept over your neck and shoulder, searching for any sign of a scar, any indication that you already belonged to another. You kept your gaze to the side, unnerved by the intensity of his bloody stare, a shiver rippled down your spine as his touch almost seemed to burn your skin.

"Good," he declared, a twisted smile tugging at his lips as his hot breath ghosting over the exposed skin. "No claim."

King Bakugou wasted no time in closing the remaining distance. Swiftly leaning down, he sank his canines into the smooth flesh with a forceful bite. However, unlike true mating, the barbaric blond did not release the necessary venom that would solidify an actual bond between souls.

The lack of numbing venom caused a sharp hiss to escape your lips, a mix of agony and indignation flooding your system. You might not have been here long and you certainly were no expert, but you knew the basics of mating marks, this world's lifelong courtship. It was a deliberate move, a clear reinforcement that he had no intentions of making you his equal partner in this arrangement. After all, you were merely a plaything, to be toyed with. You should be thankful not to be bound to the barbarian's soul, and yet you couldn't ignore the obvious insult. Or the pain.

The unexpected stabbing pain of fang sinking into flesh triggered a reflexive response, causing you to shove and slap Bakugou's face in a desperate attempt to free yourself from his grasp. The crack of your palm connecting with his cheek seemed to echo in the massive war tent, leaving a bright red handprint in its wake and a streak of crimson trailing down the king's chin.

The barbarian's eyes glowed with fierce delight, his feral nature taking enjoyment in the defiance of his new concubine. Despite the stinging pain in his cheek and the split in the corner of his upper lip from the strike, a low chuckle escaped King Bakugou's lips. "You've got guts, shitty horns, I'll give ya that much" he growled, his voice laced with a dark amusement as his tongue flicked over his split lip.

If you thought your heart was racing before, it certainly paled to the drumbeat it was pounding now.

You had dared to challenge the king, to strike him in a moment of instinct. If the tyrant himself marched to this village over a few maimed soldiers, what exactly was your punishment going to be? A part of you regretted the impulsive action, aware that it would only fuel the bestial nature of the tyrant and likely add to your own suffering...But another part of you couldn't suppress the thrill that surged through you when you slapped the shit out of him. You might be trapped in this new situation but you refused to be completely meek, cowering at his feet.

You would submit. But only as much as you had to.

As King Bakugou's wicked chuckle echoed in the confines of the tent, he swiped away the droplets of blood that trickled down his split lip, relishing in the taste. "Spirited whore, ha?" he continued with a dangerous glint in his eyes. "You'll learn. 'Til then, I'm gonna enjoy breaking that attitude of yours."

Your breathing grew shallow as you just stared at the king, mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. You knew full well that true defiance would only bring more challenges, but still a small ember of resistance burned. You would not surrender completely, no matter the threat. And even bolstered with the courage of the dissociative haze that emotionally numbed you to the consequences of your actions, you still knew the danger was very real.

The red glistening imprint of his bite marked your delicate skin, a reminder of his sadistic tendencies and the cruel pleasure he derived from such acts. Your body trembled in frustration, mind grappling with the complex storm of emotions that threatened to take over reason. You may have to play the role forced on you but you would bide your time, until the opportunity presented itself.

And so began the balancing act.

"Your position, in this territory," the warrior king continued, his voice dripping with gruff superiority, "is t'be at my beck and call. You exist to serve my needs now, like any other fuckin' whore. An' rest assured, you will serve me well." With those words, he spun you around and pressed your abdomen hard against the tent's solid wood table, his hands gripping your hips possessively.

"Lemme show you your new role," Bakugou sneered, voice filled with dark promise. With one swift motion, he pulled the rough dress up to rest on your hips, baring your body to his gaze. His eyes hungrily took in your curves, his fingers ran up the exposed skin of your thighs and hips. Feeling his rough fingers trail over the sensitive areas of your thighs, you could feel yourself getting lost in the intensity of the touch.

The sound of fabric tearing filled the air as King Bakugou ripped apart the too-tight bodice, buttons popping off as your breasts spilled free from the barely reinforced fabric. His knees pressed painfully firm against the back of yours, effortlessly spreading your shaky legs apart. The motion trapped your hips against the edge of the table and exposed your pussy to to his gaze. Breath hitched as you felt the large tip of his hardened cock pressing against your slick entrance. Every inch of your body tensed. Judging from the thickness of his head alone, the lean warrior was larger than you expected him to be. Bakugou's girth tested your cunt's limits, forced to stretch wide. Initial entry was rough, inch by inch, as your pussy's tight walls struggled to accommodate the impressive length of the barbaric king's dick. The pleasurable ache making you fight to maintain composure.

Leaning forward on your forearms for support, your chest squished against the cold surface of the table. Fingernails dug into the smooth wood, your knuckles turning white with each of Bakugou's punishing thrusts. An unexpected surge of arousal coursed through your veins, and you decided to embrace the inevitable pleasure that his pace promised to bring.

Despite your feelings on the turn of events, your body responded to his coarse treatment, for the distracting orgasm and mind-numbing hormones that lay tantalizingly within reach. Determined to find some semblance of pleasure within your new prison, you forced yourself to shift your perspective. If you were going to be forced to be an object of desire, you may as well revel in the physical gratification it offered and claw back any benefit you could until you made your move.

As the table rocked against the packed dirt floor of the tent with each forceful thrust, the warrior royal couldn't resist mocking you. His voice was filled sadistic amusement. "Where'd all that fire go?" he taunted, amused by the contrast between your previous defiance and your current submissive state. "Don't tell me I already fucked it out of ya."

Your aching walls had struggled to accommodate his girth initially, causing you to tense up. You had to focus on consciously relaxing your body, allowing him to fuck you with more ease. The mixture of discomfort and increasing pleasure sent waves of heat coursing through your body, intensifying your arousal. At this point, you couldn't tell whether the fact that rough sex made your cunt leak like a faucet was a pro or a con.

You really couldn't help but snap back, voice loaded with a defiant edge. "You really like the sound of your own voice, huh, 'Your Highness'?" you quipped harshly, rolling your eyes knowing he would be unable to see, as you were swept up by the overwhelming pleasure of being fucked against the table.

Undeterred by your attempt at disrespect, Bakugou leaned forward over your bare back, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. The warrior king's voice dripped with amusement as he addressed your lack of fear. "You're really not scared of me, are ya?" the blond chuckled sharply, the feeling of his hot breath against your skin sending shivers down your spine. "Give it time," he sneered, his grip on your erect nipples tightening as he pinched and pulled. With a choked moan, your body arched instinctively in response, a symphony of conflicting sensations flooding your body.

Your black curls bounced with each punishing thrust, your body pressed against the dull edge of the table, the hard surface digging into your hips with a force that promised to leave bruised reminders of your afternoon in the days to come. The brutal intensity behind Bakugou's movements overwhelmed you, leaving you breathless and at his mercy.

Just when you thought you had found a rhythm, just when you though you were getting close to finally cumming- the royal bastard abruptly withdrew, his cock's sizeable head dragging along the walls of your dripping passage. A soft indignant gasp escaped your lips as the sudden emptiness left you yearning for release. Inner walls involuntarily clenched in a futile attempt to hold onto the fleeting pleasure, not that you would ever admit it out loud.

He took a moment to enjoy your needy frustration before thrusting back inside with renewed intensity. Each powerful movement caused your body to arch and quiver in response, teetering on the razor's edge between ecstasy and torment. Despite the lingering defiance in your heart, your cunt betrayed you, subconsciously craving the pleasure that Bakugou pounded into you. The aching bite at the junction of your neck felt hot, as your nipples squeezed between his vice-like fingers.

Your walls eagerly embraced the renewed pounding, tightening around him in a desperate attempt to hold onto the pleasure he provided. The overwhelming mixture of pain and pleasure sent shockwaves through your body, sparking sensations that threatened to consume entirely. As the table creaked under the combined weight, your gasps and moans filled the air, merging with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and groaning wood. The intensity of the king's pace, each thrust pushing you closer to cumming around the thick cock slamming in and out of your needy hole.

As your body neared the peak of pleasure, King Bakugou enjoyed the control he had over you, keeping that orgasm just out of reach. Each time you felt the pleasure building within you reach that breaking point, he would cruelly withdraw, denying you much needed relief. The frustration reached a boiling point,as your walls involuntarily clenched desperately around the thick ridge of his cockhead in a feeble attempt to keep it inside.

"Stop fucking teasing me!" you shot over your shoulder in irritation. The pleasure that coursed through your veins was distracting, clouding your mind and amplifying your need to cum. The denial of your orgasm left you on the edge in what felt like a perpetual state of yearning, body aching for the release that the feral blond held in his cruel grasp.

As King Bakugou repositioned himself, angling his thrusts to target your most sensitive spots, and the pleasurable torment of denial continued. The conflicting sensations pushed you further towards either heaven or hell. With how your legs trembled with both the overstimulation of your poor pussy's stretched walls and the unbearable need to cum, you weren't sure which you were closer to.

"Ha? Think ya forgot who serves who here," bloody eyes narrowing as he sneered, his arrogant tone held an unrestrained hunger. A wicked grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he drank in your frustration. He took great sadistic pleasure in this game. Knowing that, despite your protests, he had the power to bring you to the edge of cumming and keep. You. Trapped. There.

As the twisted dance between pleasure and denial continued, your body reacted eagerly to every movement, cunt walls fluttering near constantly in desperate need of fulfillment. Each time King Bakugou withdrew, your inner muscles clenched around the massive disappearing tip, another futile attempt to hold onto the pleasure that slipped through your grasp.

Wet, squelching sounds filled the air as he pounded back into your gushing pussy. The table beneath you was sticky with your juices, and his blood red gaze spotted a string of viscous slick suspended mid-air between the edge of the table and the packed dirt floor below.

With each turn of Bakugou's cruel cycle, a symphony of profanity spilled from your parted lips. Your body shook with the weight of unfulfilled lust, aching for the relief that seemed cruelly just out of reach. The rise and fall of your emotions danced in harmony with the motion of their bodies, humiliating frustration fueling your foul mouthed whimpers.

"'N fact," Bakugou laughed, gruff voice filled with sadistic glee, "I think that tongue o' yours has earned ya a punishment."

The barbarian's fingers curled around your quartz horns, his grip possessive and firm. As his grip tightened, you barely felt the dull ache spreading from the base of your horns through the haze of pleasure and overstimulation. The strain on your neck was evident, your head tilted back to reveal the garnet red bite print marring your exposed skin.

With a deliberate slowness, King Bakugou pulled back on your crystalline horns, his hold firmly guiding you until your upper body was no longer supported by the table's wooden surface. Weakened by the cruel cycle of ecstasy and denial imposed on you, your legs trembled with the effort to remain upright. The shift in position caused a head rush as you fought to remain standing upright. Turns out, you wouldn't need to fight that battle for long.

Using your horns as a guide, Bakugou yanked you down to kneel before him. Obediently following his command, your weakened knees sunk against the hard packed dirt beneath you. The shift in posture brought about a new level of submission, body now positioned at his feet, ready to fulfill the king's desires.

Bakugou's massive member hung heavy above you, his imposing figure towering over as he peered down with cruel superiority. "Ever get your mouth washed out with soap?" he sneered, a wicked grin stretching across his face.

With a snarky retort already forming on the tip of your tongue, you opened your mouth to deliver a biting response. However, in that moment of distraction, the massive cock head shoved past your lips, the sudden intrusion catching you off-guard. A muffled gag sound escaped your throat, eyes widening in surprise as King Bakugou claimed your mouth with little mercy. Musk filled your senses, the unexpected violation left you momentarily stunned. Your eyes watered as you struggled to accommodate his size, jaw stretched to its limits while King Bakugou hissed in pleasure at the feel of your hot tongue against his dick.

A gasp of surprise escaped your lips, muffled by Bakugou's large cock as he took advantage of the opening you unwittingly provided and began to thrust. The rough motion caused your tongue to press against the underside of the massive member, tasting both of you. The initial shock gave way to a mix of conflicting sensations - humiliation, arousal, and a begrudging surrender.

Your throat constricted around the tip of his dick as you fought against your body's instinctive gag reflex. The taste of your combined arousal filled your mouth, the combination of his precum and your own slick coating your tongue with every thrust. With each attempt, guided by the iron grip he held on your crystalline horns, you managed to swallow a little more of his length, throat stretching in an attempt to accommodate his girth. The barbaric king's control remained unyielding. He roughly guided your movements with an unwavering grip on your horns, forcing the pace at which you took him deeper. The sight of your struggle only made him grip you tighter, setting a faster pace.

You looked good, all fuckdrunk at his feet, submitting to his desires without question.

With each inch you took down your throat, your breathing became increasingly labored. Your eyes flitted upwards as much as possible, trying to meet his gaze as you continued to obey his every command. Teary eyes pleaded for mercy, yearning for the release that was just out of reach, as you continued to let King Bakugou's thrust into your throat. Bakugou locked gazes with you. It wasn't that he ignored your pitiful puppy eyes, all watery and unfocused, but it didn't certainly have the outcome you were begging for. His pace sped up, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he approached his climax.

Your eyes narrowed in confusion and as you felt a new ridge near the base of his cock begin to swell. It took you by surprise, lips forced to start to form an O-shape as you struggled to comprehend what was happening. You mumbled uselessly around the resulting barrier, only managing to press your tongue harder against the enlarged gland.

"Never seen an alpha before?" King Bakugou asked incredulously, the tone of his voice heavy with pompous amusement. "Ya really are a fuckin' freak, this'll be fun" he added, sadistically excited for the surprise in store for you.

The swelling knot created a tight seal against your teeth, effectively trapping your tongue in a frenzy of desperate, frantic movements. As his lust hit a peak, Bakugou looked down at you with dark satisfaction, the intensity of his gaze piercing into your very being. His words cut through the pounding of blood in your ears, his mean grin widening.

"Y're gonna want to breathe through your nose when ya can," he instructed as his hips started to stutter, cruel grin never faltering. "For the next ten minutes at least." He took great joy in the power he held over you, knowing full well the challenge he was about to present. His groans of pleasure were the only warning of his orgasm that you got besides the pulse of his knot, before waves of warm cum were cascading down your throat. You fought against the rising panic, you just needed to relax you told yourself. The taste of his seed flooded the back of your throat, your lips stretched around his swollen knot, as you braced yourself to endure the minutes to come.

Your breathing grew ragged as you tried to comply with the barbaric king's instruction, the pressure of his spurts down your throat sending your body into a state of sensory overload. Each surge of his cum filled the back of your mouth, forcing you to swallow to make room for more, so you wouldn't be overwhelmed. Nose pressed against the coarse, orange wires of his pubic hair, your breaths coming in short gasps as you struggled to find enough air.

Your sore throat bobbed with each gulp, lips sealed tightly around Bakugou's pulsing knot. You followed his instructions, taking quick breaths through flared nostrils whenever his spurts allowed a moment of respite. As you continued to swallow the seemingly never-ending load, your eyes watered and throat contracted around the royal's throbbing cock. Bakugou ran his thumb over your neck, tracing over the ridge his twitching cockhead made in your throat, causing you to choke and sputter, your reflexive gag wrapped around his dick.

The primal sounds of you gagging and swallowing seemed to fuel Bakugou, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he reveled in your struggle to regain control of your reflexes. He found the cruel game fun, knowing that you had to drink every single drop or be overwhelmed by the seed that filled your mouth. As the barbaric king rolled his hips, his cock milked one last time by your tight walls, the deflating knot slipped past your teeth with a squelching pop. You felt each inch slowly withdraw from your pained throat, eliciting a mix of both relief and a weird sense of emptiness. Your jaw ached from the strain, throat raw and bruised from the rough treatment. Cum dripped from your swollen lips, a shiny string dripping towards the ground between your knees.

You leaned back against the leg of the heavy table, body boneless and weak from the intense sex. Your chest heaved with each ragged breath, senses still reeling from the experience. The taste of his cum still lingered in your mouth, a reminder of of just how well you had performed your role.

His cruel grin twisted with satisfaction as he held your weak chin with his thumb and pointer finger, tilting your glassy gaze to meet his blood red eyes. The arrogance in his voice was evident as he spoke, his words laced with a mocking tone.

"You did well, little whore," King Bakugou taunted, "Maybe you'll last longer than the others." His words cut through you like a knife, a reminder of your place and his complete control over the situation.

And it only got worse.

Your stomach churned, the fullness from consuming the sheer volume of cum you did, mixed with the exhaustion and strain on your body. It was rapidly becoming too much to bear. The taste of his bitter seed lingered in your mouth, adding to the increasing waves of nausea that welled up. With shaky legs, you bolted towards the clean bucket next to the table, a hand clamped over your mouth. Face contorted in anguish as you reached it just in time, hunching over and emptying the viscous contents of your stomach into the wood container, a curtain of dark curls obscuring the action.

Wave after wave of white, thick cum splashed into the bucket. Your throat burned even more from the forceful expulsion, tears streaming down your face as you tried to catch your breath between stomach spasms and hiccups.

Meanwhile, Bakugou simply rolled his crimson eyes in annoyance. He watched with a scowl as you succumbed to the ill effects of being orally knotted for first time, his own sense of satisfaction completely unaffected. The king redressed himself in his leather breeches, his muscular chest displayed proudly. He made no move to help or console you, instead commenting with a disdainful tone

"Y're gonna have to get better at that," he sneered, his dissatisfaction with the newest addition to his collection clear as day. Without a backward glance, he exited the tent, leaving you seething with roiling resentment.

As you continued to glare daggers at his retreating back over the rim of the bucket, an unbreakable determination burned in your eyes. The interaction had further solidified your disdain for the barbarian king. One way or another, you swore to yourself, you were going to find a way to make that man miserable.

Bakugou made his way through the field, his strides thudding quickly across the field. His blood red eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in the lush greenery and wind rustling through the grass and leaves. In the distance, he spotted Captain Kirishima, his towering figure standing tall on a hill overlooking the lake.

The captain of the king's guard, tall and muscular, wore his signature dark grey uniform adorned with a crimson cloak denoting his station. His mane of long, vibrant red hair cascaded down his back, and his curved ruby horns glinted in the late afternoon light. Nearing a staggering seven feet, Kirishima towered over most humans and dragons alike. With a languid stretch of his wings and tail, he looked every bit the formidable dragon he was. Even though his stature was imposing- off the battlefield, there was a softness to his facial features, a warmth in his scarlet eyes that contradicted his formidable appearance.

Stretching his wings and tail with a contented yawn, Kirishima paused mid-spread as he noticed his long time friend approaching. His scarlet eyes widened in alarmed confusion as he caught sight of the split upper lip on the king's face.

"What happened to your lip?" Kirishima asked baffled, his tail and wings still unintentionally frozen extended as he waited.

Bakugou's grin widened, his blood-red eyes shining with a mischievous glint. He licked his split upper lip, savoring the sting that still lingered from your bold and unexpected slap. The memory of the defiance brought a twisted satisfaction to the king.

"Hah! The village's 'peace offering' turned out fiesty" he responded, a hint of admiration laced within his tone. The fact that you had the audacity to strike him, the mighty Murder King Bakugou, had caught the barbarian off guard at the time, but it definitely made you more interesting.

Kirishima's eyebrows furrowed in surprise, his tail flicking. "They attacked you?" he asked taken aback, “Are they still breathing?” The captain knew that the barbaric ruler was not one to tolerate defiance easily, let alone physical attempts to challenge his authority. Kirishima's mind flooded with questions, but he kept them to himself as he awaited further explanation from his commanding king.

Bakugou's smug grin widened even further, his blood red eyes sparkling with perverse delight. "Oh, they're alive," he responded, his voice dripping with a sadistic satisfaction, "Just paying for their little outburst, that's all."

The words hung in the air, the implication clear. The king's tone hinted at the punishment the new consort was enduring in the privacy of the tent.

Although he hadn't yet met the new concubine, Kirishima couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy towards them. Having grown up with the royal, he knew firsthand the levels of wrath Bakugou could reach. Despite these conflicting emotions, Kirishima's primary concern was ensuring the well-being of those in the king's care, even if it meant treading carefully in the sea of Bakugou's own volatile temper. It often fell to the loyal captain to keep the king from committing actions he would regret later. Well, less regret and more inconvenience him.

"'n fact, you're on babysitting duty while I deal with the village," Bakugou said, the murderous glint in his bloody eyes betraying his enjoyment of the situation. The king's command echoed in Kirishima's ears, causing his ruby scaled tail to stiffen and his broad shoulders to tense.

Kirishima let out a silent exhale, disappointment etched across his face as he processed the news. In truth, he had hoped that Bakugou would choose to spare the villagers and seek a peaceful resolution instead of resorting to violence. The captain believed that the actions of a few rebels should not warrant bloodshed on such a scale. After all, the villagers had made multiple peace offerings to appease the barbaric king, it felt like a breach of honor for Bakugou to now go back on that agreement.

However, Kirishima knew better than to openly challenge his friend's authority. He respected the position Bakugou held and understood the consequences of rebellion. Biting his tongue, Kirishima buried his disappointment and gave a casual bow to his commanding ruler, before making his way towards the tent on the hilltop.

Kirishima stepped into the large tent, his unfurled wings brushing against the side as he entered. His wings, magnificent and majestic, spanned wide, their vibrant ruby scales shimmering under the soft glow of the tent's filtered light. The ruby scales continued down the length of his long, sinuous tail, adding a touch of elegance to his formidable presence.

As his fiery ruby eyes landed on you, Kirishima's first thought was one of surprise. The person who had struck King Bakugou looked a lot less imposing than he had anticipated. You, unlike the powerful and intimidating dragons Kirishima was used to, stood before him at a mere average human stature. If that. The only discernible dragon feature you possessed were the crystal dragon horns that adorned your head, gleaming subtly in the low lit tent. His scaled tail swayed slightly, displaying a mix of curiosity and caution.

Your eyes widened as they met Kirishima's for the first time, and your body tensed instinctively. You had been thoroughly exhausted, both physically and emotionally, by your round with Bakugou. Your throat was raw and voice gone, leaving you unable to deliver the defiant expletives you desperately wanted to snarl at the imposing dragon that had just entered the tent. But your voice failed you, leaving you with only one avenue of expression.

With a fierce hiss, you expelled every ounce of ferocity you had left buried within. Your body tensed, lips curling back in a display of bare teeth. The hiss reverberated within the confines of the tent, a desperate attempt to communicate defiance to Kirishima, to convey that you would not be dominated or humiliated any further today.

The captain took a step back, scarlet eyes swept over your form, they couldn't help but notice the torn remnants of your bodice on the floor and the ripped dress clinging to your body. The rips and tears spoke volumes of the intense encounter you had undergone at the hands of King Bakugou. His gaze then landed on the mark that marred the delicate skin of your neck—an unmistakable claim.

Kirishima's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his mind reeling with the implications.

As a dragon, Kirishima understood the significance of such a bite - it bound two souls together, sealing their connection as life partners in a way that couldn't be severed. When done correctly.

Marking a consort with a claim without fully mating them was not unheard of, but it was generally met with extreme judgment. Claims in terms of mating were typically reserved for life partners, a commitment that extended beyond physical desire. Nobles, known for their fickle nature and ever-shifting loyalties, often chose to mark their consorts with more temporary symbols, such as collars.

The ornate collars allowed the royals to easily discard their concubines when they grew bored. The nobility were notorious for their fickleness and often left their consorts behind as they moved on to fresh pursuits. By marking a consort with a bite with no intention of making you an equal, Bakugou had not only defied what little merciful convention held by the upper class but also inflicted a cruel fate upon you in Kirishima's eyes. The mark would make it near impossible for you to find a true mate, forever branded as the king's property.

Kirishima couldn't help but feel a stab of disappointment towards his lifelong friend. While he knew the barbarian ruler's tendencies on the battlefield, he hadn't thought Bakugou would exhibit such cruelty towards a consort, knowing you would likely be discarded at some point. Kirishima's own sense of honor and loyalty clashed with the conflicting emotions he felt, itching at the back of his mind as he observed the vulnerable state you found yourself in.

The captain's gaze lingered on your throat, noticing the subtle signs of strain and discomfort. The realization for the hissing aggression struck Kirishima like a bolt of lightning. You had lost your voice, and it wasn't due to natural causes or illness. No, it became clear to him that it was likely a result of your first tryst with King Bakugou, an experience that he could only imagine had been rough and brutal, throat rubbed raw from the repetitive acts demanded of you.

Feeling a surge of empathy, Captain Kirishima decided to ease the intimidating aura he unintentionally projected. He understood that his imposing stature must be overwhelming to you, given the turn of events. He folded his wings against his back, their vibrant red membranes pressed tightly together, confining their expansive span. The act served to minimize his physical presence, making him appear less threatening. He slouched slightly, adopting a more relaxed stance, and kept his hands visible, showing that he meant no harm. It was a deliberate display of non-aggression, aimed at putting you at ease, or at least as much at ease as one could be in such circumstances.

The red dragon's eyes softened as he noticed the weary look on your face. He could see the exhaustion etched into every line, body still trembling from the recent ordeals you had endured. Determined to offer some solace in this tumultuous situation, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

With slow deliberate steps, Kirishima moved away from you and towards a pile of chests near the entrance of the war tent. These chests contained spoils from the village, items meant to appease the king after their attack on his soldiers. Kirishima knew that among them, there was a chest filled with garments. Opening one of the chests, he carefully sifted through the contents until he found a fine yet simple dress that roughly matched your size.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Kirishima's lips as he gently tossed the dress onto the table, positioning it between the tow of you. Its delicate fabric fluttering in the air before settling down over the wood. It was a small gesture, but meant to convey that he harbored no ill intentions.

It was a silent message that you deserved respect and dignity, even in this tumultuous situation.

Sensing that you needed some space to collect yourself and change, Kirishima took a much smaller chest from the pile. He left the tent, giving you room to breathe and reckon with the pent-up emotions that surely swirled like storm clouds.

As the cool mountain breeze blew through his hair, Kirishima found a suitable spot a few paces from the tent, overlooking the serene lake in the warm hues of late afternoon light. With deftness and precision, he constructed a small firepit, arranging the rocks in a circle. As the dragon exhaled softly, a gentle stream of fire escaped his lips, the light glinting off his curved ruby horns. The flickering flames danced and crackled, casting a comforting glow over the hilltop.

As the captain patiently waited for the water to heat, he glanced back towards the war tent, briefly catching sparkle of your horns through the opening. His heart went out to you. Though he understood the gravity of Bakugou's actions, Kirishima couldn't help but feel a creeping sense of responsibility in making sure you felt as comfortable as possible, despite the circumstances.

Just as the water in the kettle neared boiling, Kirishima activated his innate talent. His hands hardened, gaining an impressive durability that allowed him to handle the intense heat without harm. With a swift motion, he reached for the kettle, hands possessing the resilience of a dragon's scales. His grip was confident and steady as he effortlessly removed the kettle from the fire, preventing the water from boiling. He gently tossed the healing tea leaves into the kettle, watching as they swirled and danced in the near-boiling water. The soothing aroma of the tea began to waft through the air, carrying with it hints of delicate flowers and calming herbs.

With a careful hand, Kirishima reached into the tea chest, procuring a magnificent stained glass teacup that shimmered in hues of red and amber. Draconic stained glass was a rarity, prized for its strength and ethereal beauty. The light of the late sun cascaded through the vibrant colors, casting an enchanting glow on his hands.

Unwrapping the glass bottles, the captain uncorked the crystallized honey and yuzu peel. He slowly poured a generous amount of honey into the teacup, its golden texture illuminated by the sunlight. Next, he added a pinch of the fragrant dried yuzu peel, allowing its subtly sweet and citrusy scent to infuse the air. These ingredients held healing properties, meant to soothe and restore vitality to worn souls. The captain took extra care, ensuring that the precise balance of ingredients was met, creating a concoction that he hoped would bring some measure of comfort to your weary spirit.

With a quiet exhale, Kirishima patiently awaited the completion of the tea's steeping process. He hoped that the healing properties of the tea, combined with the warmth and tranquility of their surroundings, would provide a much-needed respite for your body and mind. In this moment of quiet reflection, he couldn't help but hope that this small act of kindness would bring some solace amidst the chaos that was now your new life in royal confines.

As the tantalizing fragrance of the healing tea filled the air, it didn't take long for you to emerge from the confines of the tent, eyes cautiously studying Kirishima's every move. Clad in the simple yet elegant dress he had provided you, features betraying a mix of cautious curiosity, before you fully exited the tent.

Scarlet eyes met yours as he poured the infused brew into the stained-glass teacup, the colors of the evening sun casting a mesmerizing glow through its amber and red hues. With a delicate touch, he extended the teacup towards you, his gentle gesture offering a sense of peace and comfort amongst the chaos.

Your gaze flickered between the beautiful teacup in Kirishima's hands and his eyes, wariness slowly giving way to a glimmer of trust. You lowered yourself onto the cushion placed by the fire, its warmth seeping through the fabric and into your tired body. Settling in, you positioned yourself to face the serene vista of the lake, where the calm waters mirrored the vibrant shades of the setting sun.

Kirishima, mindful of your nervous vigilance, kept his movements steady and reassuring. His hand extended further, confidently offering you the teacup of healing brew. The crimson colored light filtering through the stained glass seemed to dance and flicker as if carrying with it a promise of respite.

A soft smile tugged at Kirishima's lips as he spoke, his voice gentle yet filled with earnest sincerity. "Can we start over? I'm Captain Kirishima." In that simple statement, he hoped to convey that he was not just a guard but someone who, at their heart, genuinely cared. Someone who would listen and support you, should you choose to share your burdens.

He waited patiently, the teacup held delicately between the two of you, awaiting your response. In this moment, amidst the tranquil beauty of the lake and the tender offering of healing tea, he hoped that they could find a glimmer of solace and a fresh beginning.

IRL Safety Disclaimer: Never Pull A Partner Up By Their Hair Off of a Surface. You Will Injure Someone.

Taglist: @themythicaldisaster

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tinyidle · 6 months

Text

Let Me Protect You - CSN

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: at a time of chaos, and with you being almost deathly afraid of the dark and what it can bring, you find comfort in your husband. he holds you, kisses you, and unfortunately gets an erection in his loose sweats...

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴/𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: san x fem!reader

𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: historical fiction; angst; fluff if you can squint; smut

𝘈𝘜/𝘛𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰: victorian au; married couple

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 2.2 k

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: marking, praise, mutual masturbation, slight overstimulation and edging (not on purpose), sideways position, breeding kink, b!gd!ck san kind of overwhelms reader, unprotected sex (they're married and consenting), aftercare implications, all fiction ofc ofc

𝘙𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨: M for mature

𝘈/𝘕: previously i saw a man who said "women don't need to be protected ... we [men] need to stop attacking them." he has a point, but sometimes a woman crave to have a man 'protect' her from the things that she knows she can just put up with. she just wants to be dotted on sometimes. first submission to @wonderlandnet

the village was at war, it was commonplace by now. you knew very well that, when marrying a man who was born to be in battle, you were going to be a soldier's wife; yet you didn't care. it was either him or the arranged marriage your parents set you up with-- a bullet you're always thankful to have dodged.

despite the wars becoming very bloody, with your husband's team getting hit numerous times, san never seemed to get a scratch on him. he is his father's son, you thought as you'd watch the burly-slim-built man perform deadlifts behind your tent every afternoon. no wonder the king appointed him to be the head warrior of the team.

having grown up to hearing sounds of swords drawing, horses furiously neighing, men exclaiming before falling to the ground with a thud, and the hearty cheer of victory on your village's end, you were desensitized to anything and everything. well, almost everything.

every night you would be unfortunately forced to sleep by yourself in the head soldier's tent as san and his men patrolled the camp for any potential enemies. you had an oil lamp burning sweet incense along with melodies from your childhood to keep you company, so you didn't worry much. however, when rain or thunder would roar along the dead night sky, you'd scurry under your covers, very much disliking the loud sounds of nature.

after nearly thirty years of constant battle between the neighboring cities and squatter nations, the village king and the rival leaders signed a peace treaty, calling for no physical fights for up to one hundred years. this treaty was sealed in the thumbprint of their blood, making it a life oath for each affected city. once you heard the news, you were ecstatic. you missed your life back with family in the village, and, although you knew that you wouldn't be able to completely move back there as you and your husband have a house, you were just glad to be able to visit them more.

you and your husband quickly gathered your things and left the soon-to-be vacant camp to travel to the once-vacant house. when you got there and took a look around the area, you immediately went to working on reviving the currently dusty place. san, who was carrying most of the things, helped put them down wherever you said for them to go. once you cleaned and dusted and decorated the house, along with san restocking the food pantry and getting the cooking materials back in their place in their kitchen spots, you two were finally finished refurbishing the old place-- becoming almost brand new again.

with dinner being finished and the two of you talking about your future endeavors with civilization again, you decided to get ready for bed. being the ever-so-sweet gentleman he was taught to be, san held your hand and courted you to the freshly-scented room, the candlelight aiding to the dim ambiance of sleep that settled within yours and his minds.

when you took the first couple bath since your honeymoon, which consisted of san constantly praising you for being the best while washing your back and chest, you both got out and dried off before putting on your night clothes. sleeping on your side, your husband went right behind you, becoming the big spoon for you almost unintentionally. you just felt so warm, he honestly couldn't help himself. san then blew the candlelight out, making you a bit worried, but you thought nothing of it considering you no longer were going to need it.

and then it happened. thunder boomed out of nowhere, along with the sound of the trophy wolves san brought from battle barking furiously at the night. you tried not to jolt, you really did. but when the second booming of thunder came and went, along with the wolves changing their tune from barking to howling, you jerked out of san's slight grasp, finding retreat under the covers you previously washed.

san was awoken by your body leaving his, making him confused. he looked downwards to see if you were okay, and when he saw that you weren't, he asked, "what's wrong? are you scared?"

you did your best to calm yourself, shaking your head as your heart pounded heavily. "no, it's nothing. ill be fine if--" again another sound shook your core, except it was someone loudly shutting the lid of a huge trash bin outside as dogs were now barking and howling in tandem with their gray cousins.

your husband shook his head as he saw your trembling figure through the indent of the cotton, "dear, how long have you had the fear of loud noises?" san slowly traced his hands over the outline of your body before carefully pulling you from the covers and onto his arms, the sheet now covering you chest down instead of your entire self.

"i always hated loud noises at night, but especially from nature. i thought id be over it by now," you pushed your head onto san's neck, your hands finding purchase on his muscular chest as you struggled to breathe properly.

the man wrapped his right arm around your back, pulling you impossibly close to him. for a guy who claims that im always so warm, he feels like a campfire right now, you thought, but had nothing in you to speak out your thoughts as another loud bang from a nearby neighbor racked your senses.

"shh, shh. it's okay, sannie's here," he calmed you down as he felt tears start to stream from down your face to his clavicle. "oh, baby, i wish i knew sooner how the dark's terror made you feel. i would have gotten a different house away from here." your husband rubbed his hands over your back, slowly but surely calming you as your feeling of worry and danger turned to warmth and peace, all thoughts molding into the man who had you in his embrace.

you stopped crying after some time, simply resting your head against san's shoulders and breathing soundly. turning over to sleep in your previous position, you felt something stiff. experimenting with your bottom, you shifted backward a bit before bending forwards, which was met with a not-so-subtle groan. wanting to further test the waters, a third deep breath from the man was taken as your butt nudged against the much-uncomfortable hard-on from san. as you repositioned yourself, your husband reached out to grasp your waist, stopping you from your bottom leaving his crotch area.

"baby, what are you doing?" when you refused to answer, san simply pushed himself towards your backside, making you gasp as you were suddenly surged forward from the slight force of his movement, biting your lip as you remembered exactly who you were married to. "don't make me repeat myself."

not wanting to make him upset, you answered quite timidly, despite your previous confident actions, "i just wanted to play with you, that's all."

san hummed, chuckling a bit at your reply. "okay," he said, one of his hands pulling your night dress up to your waist. before you could think about it, san slithered his hand onto your clad cunt, cupping it with a gentle force that made you gasp. he always had a way of taking your breath away, flustering you befor you'd know it. "is it alright if i play with you?"

you mumbled the words 'yes' in-between heavy breaths, all thoughts now melting into the warmth that resided between your thighs as san began rubbing your wetness through your undergarments. "you're so wet for me, yet all i did was do what you did to me," san quipped. "i guess its only fair for how hard you made me." he continued moving his hand on your covered clit in circles, causing you to whimper lightly as the fabric became more sticky against your folds. "take your panties off," he commanded. you removed your underwear, tossing them to the floor as best as you could without leaving your spot on the bed. you felt your husband shuffle behind you until his hardened length met way to your thigh in all its bare glory.

turning around, you stopped san from doing anything more. when he pulled his head up to ask what the problem was, you asked with a small smile on your face, "can i help you out a little more while you help me?" without saying a word, san guided your hand to his length as his other hand went back to its previous place on your core. this only caused your smile to grow bigger. as soon as you started stroking him, which caused his member to become harder and bigger than it already was, san let out a guttural moan.

"gosh, you're so good," san grunted, pushing his hips slightly closer to you as his fingers now pressed inside you, curling his fingers to your spot. your mouth dropped open as you tried your best to concentrate on pleasuring him.

in no time at all, you could tell the man was getting even hornier as you began to climax from his motions. pausing for a moment to catch your breath, you grabbed san by the neck and passionately kissed him. he could only groan in your mouth as your walls furiously clenched on his fingers still inside of you as you were smearing his precum around his now burning head.

pulling away from you completely, your husband turned you around to how you were before, your bottom stuck out for his viewing pleasure. you whined from the loss as san your side for a while, tracing your body line down to the curve of your hip before slotting his hand between your thigh, slightly raising it. "ready?"

you smiled, nodding your head quickly as you stared at the soft linen of the matress.

smiling from behind you, yet you could feel it, san held himself to your slightly pulsating hole and slowly pushed his head in. you slightly jolted, but relaxed as you heard san's small praises of how fortunate he was to have you and how well you were taking so little of him. using the hand he was using earlier to push the start of him in, he then gripped the side of your ass before slowly thrusting the rest of himself in. you were whimpering from the tremendous stretch, his fingers seeming to not prepare for what you haven't had since he was called to serve.

wrapping his arms around you again, san wiped away the stray tears-- wait, you were crying?-- he knows you were shedding. "i know, i know dear." he soothed you, helping you to untense for both you and his sakes. you because you were obviously overwhelmed from the size of your husband, and san because your tightness almost made him orgasm like a prepubescent teen. getting himself together for you, san held onto you sides as he did his best to pepper kisses on your face. "let me love you, now." when you finally started to, you sighed in content as you pulled his hand up to kiss.

"thank you, sannie."

kissing your cheek in return, he held his place inside you and slowly began to pump into you; just the amount of speed needed to calm downyour shaking. your sighing from discomfort soon turned to moaning from pleasure. feeling the bliss of your husband's length in you, you jutted your hips back more, allowing the view of your ass be a signal that you were definitely feeling good right now. feeling encouraged, san sped up, driving himself deeper into you. his fingers dug into your inner thigh as his motions grew rougher and more passionate.

"fuck, sannie. im about to cum," you breathed out, feeling so close yet so far to your release.

putting his freer hand to your clit, he rubbed it in circular motions, high pitch whines coming out of you in return. "cum for me, my love. make a big, filthy mess on my cock. can't wait to always have you like this until you can barely think without having my cum in you."

your moans grew louder as your thoughts began to change to ones of having your stomach filled to the brim of san's love.

with one harsh thrust into you, your release hit your core, a splattering sensation running down your leg as he kept fucking into you. despite becoming quickly overstimulated, you didn't dare stop san from using you to his completion. "please, sannie," you cried, doing the best you can to get him closer through clenching. "please cum inside me. i need it to feel warm."

the image of his imprint leaking out of you flashed through his mind, quickly causing him to snap. with a tight squeeze at his enlarged length, he let out a grunt before he unloaded his seed into you, moaning in pleasure and relief as he did so. his thrusts grew shorter as he came less and less, holding onto you and kissing all over the parts of your face and neck he could reach. "i hope that wasn't too... intense for you," he apologized once his heart rate settled down.

you turned your head to san before slowly pulling yourself out of him with a hiss, looking at him as your hole pulsed in an attempt to return to its previous size. "'too intense?'" you quoted him. "why would it be?" your hand was gently touching your husband's face as he kissed it anytime it reached his lips. "it felt amazing." san, feeling assured by your words, leaned in to give you a tender kiss on the lips.

"im happy that you feel safe with me," san yawned after hesitantly pulling back, stretching before wrapping his arms around your waist as your aftershocks were coming down to an end. "i love you."

smiling at him and kissing his lips once more, you replied back to him. "i love you, and im always safe with you."

this is my first san fic. crazy right? and it only took one dance performance to awaken something in me. oh, the photo in the middle with the moon? i took that picture two weeks ago after getting off work.

#ateez smut #san smut #wonderlandnet

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bonefall · 3 months

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For Riverstar’s Heir, do you have any idea where you want to land themeatically? Because from my reading of the possible themeatic directions, with the whole story being about this crisis of politics and succession, it feels like the character who “should” become the next leader of RiverClan narratively should be the Most ruthless/aggressive/willing to resort to dishonorable methods of dealing with rivals (reinforcing RiverClan’s entry into/building up of the early Clans’ emerging systems of battle society)

The alternative “most interesting” option I can imagine would be one that is least likely/least aggressive/some otherwise sort of underdog candidate (maybe not even technically “legal” depending on what qualifications there are for heirship?), but I’m not sure exactly what themes that would play into, other than maybe how the pursuit of power can change someone?

That said, your themeatic instincts are strong enough that I can see you having a strong idea for a “middle-of-the-pack” candidate winning out over the others just as much, so— I am genuinely curious what your thoughts are for where you Want this crisis of succession to end, narratively, even if you don’t have an exact cat picked yet.

Good ask because I'd not been clear about the theme yet, I think. What Riverstar's Heir is trying to get at, at the heart of the issue, is that this is a bloodbath caused by naiive optimism and greed.

The commandments to establish borders and prevent killing are nice, but not enough. You can't just have a society on good will, not when POWER is up for grabs in the scramble. It's about collapse, and how innocent, well-meaning people get caught up in the devastation. Not JUST the troublemakers.

Riverstar was an EXCELLENT king, beloved and wise, but if you don't prepare a proper successor, everything you worked hard to build might crumble to ruin.

Something unique is lost in this shuffle. It's no longer the River Kingdom, and the Wind Coalition also becomes WindClan at this point. For better, and for worse, they both lose a bit of what made them special. Redscar's choice at the end also solidifies the early political power of Clerics, which is eventually broken many generations later with Larkwing's Strike.

So, fragment time,

At LEAST three "heirs" end up getting killed.

So, because these ones are gonna die, I have Three Heir "Slots" that I'm committed to and just need to fill;

The Eldest, Riverstar's oldest living biological child.

The Chosen, Riverstar's adopted heir, a rather meek prince easily pressured into backing off his rightful claim. This one is likely going to be the BB! version of Mossfire.

The Firstblood, directly descended from Riverstar's FIRSTborn child. This one is likely going to be the BB! version of Jumpfoot.

I also have two tentative slots.

The Accomplished... who is a blood relative of Riverstar, but more of a "puppet" for WindCo. Someone they're intentionally propping up hoping for power.

The Diplomat, from WindClan, who is a lot like WindCo's puppet but this one is more subtle about it. Poetic. Happy to purr and remind the world of the wonderful, deep ties that had existed between King Riverstar and Thunderstar.

And, LASTLY, there's The Deputy. The most qualified choice, who served Riverstar, but was no relative.

It feels right that the Deputy is the one who is chosen in the end... hm.

Anyway

After a smaller conflict near the start of the story, either The Eldest or The Firstblood seems to be the favorite to win... but decides to wait for the morning to set out for the Moonstone and take their lives.

In this time period, without selecting a successor, this heir is assassinated.

In fact it might be VERY fun if this heir, being so much like King Riverstar himself, decided to throw a pre-emptive celebration.

Meat! Merriment! MURDER!!!

Having them go out via poison would be a fun way to send a character off.

This is going to be why the "DEPUTY BEFORE MOONHIGH" rule is established, but it's also what kicks off the bloodier parts of the plot.

Thinking about it... a cleric and/or the deputy should probably tell this heir, "Hey, buddy, you should really get going" and they're ignored.

With Eldest Heir gone, the small conflict from earlier becomes an LARGE conflict.

And, like they did back in DOTC, families start to rally together. Especially Eldest's offspring, who think they're just as entitled to the Throne as The Firstblood/Jumpfoot

King Riverstar used to encourage cats to enter the River Kingdom freely. The borders were essentially open, and everyone was allowed in, as long as they were willing to cross the river.

(maybe I'll even have him pull down the tree from Riverstar's Home intentionally, happy to accept other cats into his Kingdom. Then he defends it from Skystar, specifically, but refuses to destroy what he built.)

This had allowed River Kingdom to grow large and powerful, but it also meant everyone in River Kingdom had connections to the other Clans.

Which meant there were cats supporting OTHER bids to the Throne, like the one from WindCo and the one from ThunderClan.

Smelling a way to grab power, Duststar supports his favorite heir, and Whitestar of ThunderClan also begins to stick his nose in.

Each Heir tries to run the River Kingdom, and things start to get hostile. If there's more than just the three heirs, even more of them start to get openly attacked, chased out, killed, until there's only The Chosen and The Firstblood left.

Somewhere around here, River Kingdom is invaded. Probably by the leader of SkyClan at the time, claiming that they don't even NEED an heir to take what these cats clearly don't deserve.

And that's when the internal conflict becomes a FULL-BLOWN WAR between four Clans.

In those days, the camp was at Sunningrocks, right in the middle of the river.

ThunderClan jumps in to help its "Ally" against SkyClan, just like historical precedent, but they have NO IDEA who they're fighting against, because the whole Kingdom is divided. It's not as simple as it was in DOTC anymore.

WindCo came to support its favorite heir, but its cats don't obey Duststar's orders when it comes down to fighting their own friends and family, meaning they're functionally fighting EVERYONE and losing a TON of cats

SkyClan is getting pummeled because EVERY group is pissed at them as well as each other, getting a painful awakening that they are NOT being run by Skystar the War God anymore and they're no longer the biggest, baddest bananas in the bunch

(shadowclan is watching all of this and eating popcorn. moisturized. in their lane. unbothered.)

The climax here, between The Chosen and The Firstblood, is a battle that matches the chapter from COTC. They launch at each other, in a battle to the death.

The first Sunningrocks Battle.

They both wear "crowns" on their head, one custom made for Mossfire's short-furred head, and traditional, braided into Jumpfoot's long, lush fur.

As they claw, bite, and tumble, they plunge into the river.

Fighting and hissing, they try to pull apart to rise up for air-- and can't.

They're STUCK

The crowns became tangled in their skirmish, and neither one can work with the other to bring them both to shore, against the current.

Both heirs, the last with a proper claim to the throne, drown together in the river.

At the end of the bloodbath, the tone is very somber. The rules were meant to prevent The First Battle from ever happening again... but The Second Battle had just taken place.

The body count wasn't AS high as the First Battle, but it was still a bloody loss. Every Clan lost warriors. Even ShadowClan, who hadn't even been IN the conflict, checked its ranks to find that powerful warriors had run off to go fight with their Kin.

Now they could be buried with them, too.

And now, there was no proper heir. If any descendants were still kicking around, they were refusing to take a throne that so many cats had died for. Jumpfoot and Mossfire never emerged from the River, their bodies, and their legendary crowns, were never found.

At first I'd been considering Redscar being swapped to become a RiverClan Cleric, but now I'm thinking it actually makes sense he's still from ShadowClan. ShadowClan was the ONLY neutral group-- it's reasonable for the clans to turn and request their partiality.

So, Redscar peruses the options, having followed the situation from afar.

His choice, in the end, was The Deputy. The most experienced advisor who knew Riverstar, and probably tried to stay at his adopted daughter's side as well. The closest thing they'd had to a leader all along.

(Thought: Maybe this character will be the POV. Make it like a bit of a fake-out title, you THINK Riverstar's heir is Mossfire. But it's actually been this one all along.)

He creates his famous false sign, and from there, the five groups discussed how they could prevent this from ever happening again.

They create the Law of the Deputy, commanding that ALL Clans have a single Deputy who will inherit the Clan after the leader passes away, ending dynasties in WindCo and River Kingdom and centralizing power in the other 3.

With the massive losses that WindCo and River Kingdom experienced, they also restructure, forced to accept a lot of help from ThunderClan and ShadowClan.

The borders began to close up, leading to the sentiment that would lead to Commandment 4, the Law of Loyalty, in just one more generation.

#better bones au #BB!DOTC #Riverstar's Heir #I feel like I need to add in more 'human' moments #But it's also a very broad overview type thing #Having the Deputy be the POV will help immensely I think once I get into the details #Since she'll be thinking about how to keep the Kingdom together. How to feed people. How badly it's all crumbling #And how distracting the violence all is #But this is a broader draft of the major politics when the REAL meat of this story is in the minutia.#(Ottoman Empire ass drama in the background) ``no time for that goku. its fall. the salmon r coming.``#Unsure if this is Flowerstem or Maplewhisker....#The Eldest would make sense as Mothpelt #Again: COTC my beloved

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mikeysbabygirl · 2 years

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Mikey is the type to have a crush and won’t do shit about it, but then you get a boyfriend and he’ll beat the fuck out of him and go "i dIdn’t dO shIt" like 'bitch, you still got the blood on yo hands'

But like think about the sex afterward like 😩 i don’t like you or anything, i just fuck you like you’re the only one i need. I swear i don’t like you… i just hold you abit too long after we’re done. Of course it was a mistake, it won’t happen again… until you got a new bitch, in that case, he better know how to catch these hands.

Please I'd be such a whore for him such a cocksucker such an open-

Word count : near to 1000

But YES, I can totally see him denying it 'til his last breath.

Kanto manji were his darkest days, Manjiro had lost it all, family, friends, you were the only one who he let stay.

Well, not really let, but you were too stubborn to leave no matter how blood stained were his deeds. You promised, to yourself, to Shin, and to him to always stay, and you would.

And everyone he allowed to stay around him, mainly the Kanto members could see the invisible red strings tying you together, it seems you two were the only oblivious ones.

No he couldn't afford love, he could not afford happiness.

Those nights were full of lures, no matter how beautiful you looked in his bed, face lit by the moonlight seeping through the window. Yet another slip, another lingering touch of yours in his face got you wrapped in the bedsheets he only yearned to when you were around.

But the morning comes and the other side of the bed would be cold, and you'd leave with grace once again, no word, no question marks.

The ghost of his touches still stinging over your flesh, and you wearing them proudly as your battle scars. Because if he was the king in the darkness, you were his soldier.

Yet someday you'll figure out you deserved better, you'll understand you lost yourself trying to find him, and remove the dagger of him from your heart, start the healing process.

But he never thought that day would come that fast...

Watching from not that far, watching the fire in you burning again after the frozen kingdom he put you through, watching another man lighting you up.

He should be happy for you, he should acknowledge he's no good for you... Instead he felt like losing the last string tying him to life, the path to that dimly lit candle only burning when your hands are on him.

-" What the hell you doin' here ?" You frowned seeing the Haitani brothers coming toward you and your date in the park , Ran couldn't quite tell anything. He liked you a lot, he also knew it was wrong, that you deserved better, but it was his boss' order after all.

-" C'mon, just come with us, don't make it harder than it already is. " That was Rindou, gently grabbing your arm to make you stand up, you glanced up at your date of the night, he stood up, probably ready to stop the Haitani brothers but his face fell as soon as another shadow appeared in the park, some steps away from your bench.

-" Manjiro... ?"

You tried freeing yourself from the boys holding you, no use, their grip was firmer now. Standing in front of you two, Mikey could practically hear the million questions your eyes were sending him, behind the deafening cries of his demons, therefore his eyes never left your new boy toy.

His eyes only crossed yours for a second, stealing your breath before they met Ran's purple one's again. A nod, just a nod from him and they were already dragging you away.

Yes, he was the king of madness. But he would rather not stain your innocence. Because villains are not born, they're made of insecurities, of hopes that someday someone would love their monstrous side, and you seemed to do.

No question marks, again. When he would come back later to his bedroom where the boys have locked you, under his command, sure, hands all bloody, you knew better than to ask, wasn't even the first time.

-" It can't go on this way "

-" I know" he'd whisper, forehead against yours, bloody knuckles caressing your soft cheeks.

-" You should let me go " you'd utter between two feverish kisses.

-" I wish I fucking could. "

Then he'd be laying you down on his bed, feather-like touches, hesitant fingers, blood stained fingers.

-" That's it, cum for me" another kiss on your throbbing clit would bring you closer to your high.

And the dark night in his eyes was a starry one when he looked at your body under him, sinking deeper in you and throwing his head back.

Funny how, it was in the tightest corner of you that he finally felt accepted, enough.

-" Feel me here ?" Calloused hand reached to place yours over the bulge in your lower belly, you nodded, lightheaded with pleasure. " Only I can love you this deep "

-" Say it. Say this pretty pussy's mine. "

Soft kisses on your left breast.

-" Say there's only me in this fucking heart "

No, he would not say the suffocating words in his throat.

But he would hold you close the night. Do what people do when they can't sleep, stargazing, but at your sleeping face.

Murderous arms around you careful not to crush you as if you were made of glass.

His hands a weapon, and you were nothing but skin, and someone else could probably make you happier.

But then you open your sleepy eyes to look at him, and you're again, part of his flesh he could not rip away.

-" Sleep. " His dark glance commands. "Worry not. Ain't got nowhere better to go"

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blueiskewl · 12 days

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‘Curse’ Behind King Tutankhamun’s Tomb Mysterious Deaths Finally Solved

The unsettling curse of King Tutankhamun’s tomb in Egypt has bewildered archaeologists since it’s been feared to be linked to the mysterious deaths of multiple excavators who discovered it in 1922.

However, a scientist now claims to have solved the mysteries of the infamous “Pharaoh’s Curse” more than 100 years later.

Toxic levels of radiation emanating from uranium and poisonous waste are believed to have lingered inside the tomb since it was sealed over 3,000 years ago, Ross Fellowes wrote last month in the Journal of Scientific Exploration (JSE).

The burial chamber in the tomb of Tutankhamun, near Luxor, Egypt.

The radiation level inside Tutankhamun’s tomb is so high that anyone who comes in contact with it could very likely develop a fatal dose of radiation sickness and cancer.

“Both contemporary and ancient Egypt populations are characterized by unusually high incidences of hematopoietic cancers, of bone/blood/lymph, for which a primary known cause is radiation exposure,” Fellowes wrote in his study.

However, this radioactivity isn’t isolated to Tutankhamun’s tomb.

Fellowes revealed that “unusually high radiation levels have been documented in Old Kingdom tomb ruins” and spread throughout sites in Egypt.

“Radiation has been detected by the Geiger counter at two sites at Giza adjacent to the pyramids,” he wrote, adding that radon — a radioactive gas — has also been detected in “several underground tombs at Saqqara.”

The “Coffinette for the Viscera of Tutankhamun,” which contained the king’s mummified liver, depicts him as Osiris, holding a crook and flail.

Medical imagery of Tutankhamun is shown above a replica of King Tut’s skull on display during the “Tutankhamun And The Golden Age Of The Pharaohs” at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art in California.

These readings were all found to be “intensely radioactive.”

“Modern studies confirm very high levels of radiation in ancient Egyptian tombs, in the order of 10x accepted safety standards,” the study shared.

It’s also theorized that those who built the ancient tombs were aware of the toxins based on the eerie warnings carved on the walls.

“The nature of the curse was explicitly inscribed on some tombs, with one translated presciently as, ‘they that break this tomb shall meet death by a disease that no doctor can diagnose,’” Fellowes wrote.

Outside the tomb of Tutankhamun during the 1922 excavation in the Valley of the Kings in Egypt.

Other ominous translations like “forbidden” because of “evil spirits” may have significantly fueled the fear that supernatural curses lingered in the ancient sites.

Those fears intensified with the mysterious deaths of Lord Carnarvon, who funded the excavation in 1922 and reportedly walked through the treasured filled rooms — and multiple others after they unsealed the tomb.

“Carnarvon was dead within a few weeks of the uncertain diagnosis of blood poisoning and pneumonia,” Fellowes wrote.

Egyptologist Howard Carter (R) walks with archaeologist Lord Carnarvon, the patron of his research, outside the tomb of King Tutankhamun in 1922.

Egyptologist Arthur Weigall allegedly told colleagues that Carnarvon would “be dead within six weeks” upon entering, the study claimed.

Howard Carter, the first person to walk inside Tutankhamun’s tomb with Carnarvon, died in 1939 after a long battle with Hodgkin’s lymphoma, which was suspected to be caused by radiation poisoning.

British Egyptologist and independent excavator Arthur Weigall was present at the opening of Tut’s Tomb and is also credited with starting the ‘myth’ of the curse.

He died of cancer at 54 years old in 1934.

Workers remove a tray of chariot parts from the Tomb of Tutankhamun in the Valley of the Kings, Egypt, in 1922.

In total, six of the 26 people present when the tomb was opened died within a decade from asphyxia, stroke, diabetes, heart failure, pneumonia, poisoning, malaria and X-ray exposure.

While the deaths can be seen as odd, the curse theory was also likely fueled by the oddities that happened when it opened.

Carnarvon had reportedly suffered a mosquito bite that became severely infected.

Around the time excavators opened the tomb, Cairo reportedly suffered a bizarre power outage and a freak sandstorm, according to National Geographic.’

At one point during the excavation, Carnarvon’s favorite dog allegedly let out a chilling howl and suddenly dropped dead.

A photograph showing guards standing outside the tomb of Tutankhamun in Egypt in 1922.

A sacred cow being removed from Tomb of Tutankhamun in 1922.

From a historical perspective, the discovery of the tomb in the Valley of Kings is considered one of the most fascinating finds that gave modern society a glimpse into the Egyptian royalty voyage into the afterlife.

Five thousand items, including solid gold funeral shoes, statues, games, and strange animals, were discovered inside Tutankhamun’s tombs.

It would take the excavators ten years to clear the tomb of its treasure.

The golden funerary mask of Tutankhamun.

The unsealing and studying of the tomb is also credited with launching the modern era of Egyptology.

Tutankhamun took the throne as pharaoh around nine or ten years old and ruled between 1332 BC and 1323 BC.

However, he died by the time he turned 18.

There are no surviving records of Tutankhamun’s death and how the young pharaoh died remains a mystery.

However, Tutankhamun is suspected to have suffered from several health issues — likely linked to his father, Akhenaten, and his mother, Nefertiti, being brother and sister.

By Richard Pollina.

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obsessivevoidkitten · 2 years

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Far From the Sun Pt. 1

Th e second part can be found here. Male Alpha Yandere Demon x Feminized Omega Male Reader (CW: Religious undertones, angels and demons, a/b/o dynamics, general yandere behavior, mentions of future breeding, captured reader, musk kink, dacryphilia,) Word Count: 950 (I am already half way done with the part 2 of this and it shall contain smut, this one has no smut but is the setup for it. This idea hit me in the face whilst I was motivated and demanded to be written immediately. The title is a reference to the meaning of the name Aphelion, which means the point at which something in orbit is farthest away from the sun. Not beta read and written between 3am-5am, sorry for mistakes.) When the archangel turned demon-lord Aphelion fell from heaven he quickly set about doing what no prince of hell had managed. He consolidated power and brought the other demons to heel, crowning himself the King of Hell. He was cold, calculating, and powerful. And, once in control of the united forces of Hell, he set his sights on the mortal realm. Aphelion was terrifying to behold on the battlefield. He stood nearly 8 feet tall and was clad in shining black plate armor covering most of his body except his head. Despite being tall and fierce he was also agile and graceful. His straight long black hair flowed behind him as he made precise cuts to swiftly end his opponents with his tainted seraph’s blade. His transformation into a demonic entity had changed more than just his weapon. His once silver hair was now long and black, shining and glossy like obsidian. Two large curled horns, similar to those of a ram, had grown from his head. When he chose to manifest them his six wings were now black and when he was in the heat of battle the exuded a dark and intimidating aura that sparked terror in his opponents. Even his once kind silver eyes had turned blood red with taint. Aphelion had no hatred of humans, but he had no problem slaying them either. He knew it was for the best, he deserved to rule and would be far better at it than any human kings. Look at how he had united the demon factions. No more squabbles or war between them. He would do the same with the realm of humans. The magic of humans was stronger than he expected and with the assistance of the Elves and a few angels their was a barrier erected that halted his advance. Still he already had significant territory and would bide his time. When you were born, a simple but rare male omega, the wise men of your town had convened and declared you the herald of a prophecy. The signs from their divinations were clear, you would hold the fate of the demons in your hands. You were raised in guarded seclusion, being trained in combat was exceedingly rare for an omega, but with the burden of the prophecy weighing on your shoulders you had to be prepared. Unfortunately you were not great at melee combat, your body simply was not built for it, but you excelled at magic. You were quick on your feet and learned a vast array of spells. You had also learned to mask your omega nature and instincts. Eventually you were in your 20s and you had been deemed ready to embark upon your quest into the demon held territory and slay the King of Hell. You managed to pass deep into the domain of Aphelion with no one noticing. You even managed to make it to The Obsidian Citadel, the dark castle from which the demon king ruled. You snuck in carefully. Sneaking past demonic and orcish guards, and even a fallen angel. Aphelion was alone in his bed chamber, no one else had ever been granted such an opportunity. Your destiny was nigh! You launched your strongest spell at him. Tendrils of energy sparked and twitched around you, all your power building into one extreme spell, all your training for this moment. You launched the hell-sunder bolt at full strength. Bright rainbow energy spiraled towards him, but a second before it connect he rose up in his bed and waved his arm, dissipating your spell instantly. The former archangel looked at you and smirked before speaking with a voice that sounded like several voices speaking at once, “Are the humans so desperate now that they are sending in omegas to stop me?” “What? That... was my strongest spell… I made it all this way… And how did you know…” Your legs felt like noodles, you looked at him with wide-eyed fear, but you forced yourself to be brave. “Knew what hmm? That you’re a little omega? I could smell you the second you came into the citadel.” He got out of his bed and smirked at you, his full height adding to his terrifying presence. His muscles were on full display, he had nothing on from the waist up and his scent hit your nose and made you slightly flustered. You should have been immune to the scent and intimidation of alphas. “What’s wrong? Smell something you like? You smell pretty intoxicating yourself~ You didn’t think your human magic could conceal your scent from an alpha demon lord did you?” Aphelion looked genuinely amused with you and your silly efforts, he slowly stepped forward and you inched backward until your back was against the wall. You tried to use your magic to teleport out of the room so you could escape, but it was useless, somehow he was nullifying your efforts. The demon put his hand against the wall beside your head and looked down at you smugly, caging you in. His musk was suffocating at this distance. You looked away from him, unable to meet his gaze, but he put his free hand under your chin and angled your head up to look at him. His blood red eyes made you tremble and you cursed yourself for your weakness as you felt tears start to stream down your face. “Shhh, don’t cry. I won’t hurt you.” He chuckled and licked up some of the tears on your cheek. “You’re going to be my little princess and spawn a new breed of demons with me. Part human with human magic, the barrier will be useless. The entire fate of the demon nation will rely on you my little mate~”

#yandere teratophilia #yandere demon #yandere monster #male yandere x male reader #male yandere x reader #monster boyfriend #my oc #my oc aphelion #Yandere a/b/o

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myfandomprompts · 7 months

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To Risk It All - Prologue

Aemond Targaryen x Dragonrider!OC

Synopsis: Aemond meets Daera Velaryon in uncanny circumstances, the memory of green scales and thick blood. He tries to resist her, he tries to convince himself that she is not his. Not yet. But when the Dance begins and she is taken away from his grasp, he decides that he hates her, wants her, for you can only hate what you had loved.

Tags: possessive!Aemond, angst, mature, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, slow burn, obsession, blood, canon divergence, king Aemond, smut and fluff, dragons, war, F&B spoilers Masterlist

A/N: I'm quite happy to release this first chapter exactly one year after I published my first fanfiction about Aemond Targaryen.

The female main character is based on Daeron, son of Vaemond Velaryon who is Corly’s nephew as per the book, instead of his brother as in the series. I reduced the number of the Velaryon cousins from five to two (Corlys’ nephews).

English not first language.

“Say it.”

The whole room went silent as the Velaryon turned towards the heir.

“Her children are BASTARDS.”

All gasped and Aemond just smiled.

“And she is a whore.”

“I will have your tongue for that.”

Then Vaemond Velaryon fell, and Daemon Targaryen spoke to the assembly.

“He can keep his tongue.”

“Lady Velaryon, your mother is asking for you.”

Daera nodded to the attendant before dropping her quill and making her way to Lady Elinda’s apartments. Driftmark was a gloomy place since Lord Corlys Velaryon had disappeared at sea; no one would meet her eyes as she wandered the corridors.

Daera was once the pride of her House, and she was in the eyes of her father. She was the first-born of Vaemond Velaryon, daughter of a cunning man who took great pride in his heritage, and had always looked up to his uncle, Corlys Velaryon.

Admiration that faded when the battle of the Stepstones occurred.

But Daera was born much later; history would remember her birth being shared with Princess Helaena, and it was assumed the girls would become friends if they ever met at court. But it never came to pass, as Vaemond Velaryon’s respect for the King faltered considerably over the years, turning into resentment, until it became rage. For Daera’s father, King’s Landing was a place to be avoided.

Daera recalled the day she first saw the King and the royal family. She remembers the harsh voice of her father as Laena’s body was returned to the sea, the bereft look on his face as he spoke of how salt ran thick in their Velaryon’s veins and how Daemon Targaryen had scoffed at the Valyrian words. She remembers clutching her little brother’s hand tighter at that. She had not grown up with either of her great cousins, and barely with their children but as her father stared at Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joeffrey Velaryon, she could not help but see how little they resembled Laenor Velaryon, or the heir to the iron throne, for that matter.

But what she recalls most vividly was that boy, barely younger than her, escaping the wake to meet the only recently riderless dragon, and claiming it as his own, losing his eye in the process. She recalled being called to the throne room that night, after being stirred up from sleep by the ruckus her cousins had caused, and witnessed the Queen cut the arm of the heir so deep it stained the stone floor for years after the deed. That night she could not help but admire the bravery of Aemond Targaryen as she heard him say the words that still rang in her ears to this day; “ I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon.”

Because at that time, she also knew what it was to long for a dragon.

Fate was a funny thing. Over the next few days, Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys lost their remaining child, Laenor Velaryon, and left behind a pale silver-grey dragon. History does not recover how it happened, but years later, when Daera accompanied her cousin Baela to visit her twin sister on Dragonstone, she had found Seasmoke in his lair and had claimed him.

This was the reason she became the pride of House Velaryon.

Stating that her achievement had not been a shock would have been an understatement, especially in King’s Landing as she was given the name of 'the Winged Seahorse'. The King had, of course, praised her upon learning the news, happy to see the blood of Old Valyria and its tradition endure, but for everybody else, it was highly suspicious. The Velaryon were not and have never been Dragonlords, only Targaryens, and the matter incited rumours about Daera’s maternal lineage. Elinda Celtigar, was from Valyria’s descent, and although it was impossible to prove the veracity of the rumours; Daera still blamed herself for the calumnies thrown at her mother while her father called that a ‘fair sacrifice’.

She had gained a dragon, and now all waited for her brother Daemion to claim one as well.

When Daera entered her mother’s apartment after being summoned, she was met with the grim look of her two great-cousins, Gaemon and Malentine; her mother’s expression scared.

“Your father is dead. Slain by the Rogue Prince.”

Daera stilled on the threshold as Gaemon started vehemently explaining things to her. She didn’t register anything until her brother was mentioned, in King’s Landing, alone.

“Fly to him, this instant, protect him from the leeches at court, from the ones that are spitting on our family name and stand tall until our arrival,” Gaemon spoke. “And remember, this is a Queen that sits on the Iron Throne.”

So she flew to King’s Landing, unbeknownst to her that her steps would lead her down a path of love and pain.

Chapter 1

I tasted love that that takes controls Endless love and I wanted more.

@knightprincess @baconturtle @witheredoffherwitch

Thank you @babyblue711 & @arcielee for beta. 💙

#aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfiction #smut #slowburn #hotd fanfic #fanfic #dark aemond #dark!aemond x oc #usermyfandomprompts #aemondedit #aemond x velaryon #tria #triafic

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emmabirb8 · 1 year

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Ok ok, but have you thought about the fact that throughout the series, Nandor has saved or protected Guillermo's life just as much as Guillermo has saved and protected Nandor's? Because I have, and I am feeling Ways about it.

Obviously, Guillermo has always gone above and beyond for Nandor as far as familiar duties go, and he has slain countless vamps to protect not only Nandor but also the rest of the household. It's a given and it's been a given from the start that Guillermo would do anything to keep Nandor (and his other housemates by extension) safe. He has outright said they are his found family, and it definitely shows.

Well, in a slightly subtler way, the case is the same for Nandor. God, the things that Nandor has done for Guillermo - the risks he's taken, the knee-jerk reactions, the choices he's made? It is profound.

Consider that Nandor a. as a vamp is not expected to care about his familiar beyond using him as a tool to get things done, b. believes acting "aloof," aka unbothered and unconcerned, is key, and most importantly c. struggles heavily with identifying, working through, and expressing his emotions. AND YET, without even stopping to think about it, he:

Stepped in to stop that hungry vamp at Simon's club (Manhattan Night Club)

Refused to let Guillermo be eaten by the Vampiric Council (The Trial)

Stopped Topher from drowning him (Resurrection)

Kept Guillermo's slaying a secret after discovering that he had dusted Carol (The Return)

Told Celeste to "be kind to Guillermo" when he thought she was gonna be his new vampire mistress (arguably, this counts bc he was making an effort to ensure Guillermo would be treated well and kept alive under Celeste's watch) (Collaboration)

Defended him against the wrath of Nadja and Laszlo (the housemates Nandor has known, lived with, and loved for far longer than he's known Guillermo) who were 100% prepared to kill him every single night for a month while he was imprisoned in the basement (The Prisoner)

"Yanked" Guillermo away from the line of fire when he was acting as bait for The Sire and attempted to fix the situation himself (The Escape)

Immediately dove into the sewage hole in the floor to rescue Guillermo when he fell in (Reunited)

Volunteered to battle him in place of a more dangerous vampire at the Night Market (The Night Market)

Made sure he was okay at the end of the fight after pretending to snap his neck (The Night Market)

Nandor is the KING of repression, but actions speak louder than words, babes. This is not even counting the times he has shown outward kindness, affection for, and attachment to Guillermo to the point where it's entirely too conspicuous for anyone to believe he's not in love with him. (Tho he's apparently managed to fool himself well enough, hasn't he? lmao)

Hell, I'm in a listing mood - let's recount those moments too, shall we?

Just off the top of my head, Nandor has canonically also:

Made Guillermo a glitter portrait depicting the two of them together as vampires as a gift to celebrate his anniversary of becoming his familiar (that he was clearly proud of and excited about and that clearly took a lot of effort and planning ❤) in the very first episode

Held him up above his head to help him reach higher places when dusting and held him up in front of a mirror so he could experience the sensation of flying (like what vampire does that fr???? he was down bad even in the earliest eps)

Become a blubbering mess worrying where Guillermo was while high on drug blood

On multiple occasions actually took him flying by wrapping his arms tenderly around him 👀, then admitted he was his friend out loud in front of Nadja and the camera crew as early as ep 4 after feeling guilty about accidentally dropping him during a flight

Played chess with him (and it's implied this is a regular thing for them 🥹)

Been visibly upset each time Guillermo has left - it's heavily implied he missed even the smallest gestures like the hand holding, and he outright verbally expressed his hurt feelings in front of the entire Theatre des Vampires

Been distraught enough after the Celeste situation that he attempted to "win" Guillermo back first by talking to him and then by giving him another gift with the "beating off" pillow, and then actually complied with Guillermo's requests to be more respected and given breaks after that

Taken the time to go down and keep Guillermo company while he was imprisoned in the basement and made a genuine attempt to give him better quality food

Urged Nadja and Laszlo to treat Guillermo with more respect and to try to take an interest in his life at the casino

Reacted in a way that wasn't even the slightest bit angry (and in fact, he appeared grateful for it besides becoming excessively horny on main) about The Slap

Said he has "grown to have some affection for" Guillermo out loud to his face (which, for someone as repressed as Nandor, is huge)

Offered a very blatantly romantic turning scenario in which he expressed a desire to share soil with Guillermo, which, again, is huge

Become markedly upset that Guillermo never showed up at the train station to accompany him on his trip

Started making steps in the direction of reversing their dynamic in s4 by doing things like helping Guillermo dry off and getting him a glass of water after he fell into the hole, paying more genuine attention to him and his life, expressing a desire for Nadja and Laszlo to be more serious and respectful of him, valuing his input (esp for the dick wish), and being appreciative of all the work he has constantly put in for him (whenever using his new penis 😏)

Offered Guillermo the position of best man at his wedding which was clearly of utmost importance to Nandor, even more so than finding someone to marry in the first place

Actually remembered the exact amount of years Guillermo has been his familiar/bodyguard and called him his "closest companion" in front of lots of other (arguably dangerous) vampires

Been so excited and proud of Guillermo's moves when he was battling other familiars at the Night Market to the point of exclaiming "that's my fucking guy!"

Called Guillermo his friend out loud again when he got visibly worried he may have killed him

Admitted to Guillermo that he was afraid right before his wedding (!!!!), looked at Guillermo longingly/lovingly, accidentally revealed his desire to literally hug Guillermo close and kiss his face through his wish about Marwa (!!!!!!), and took a moment to whisper sweet nothings to Guillermo and cover him up when he discovered he'd fallen asleep (!!!!!!!!!)

Dorkily but sweetly prevented Guillermo from falling in the bg shot of Go Flip Yourself (like, truly, why would he care omfgggg he's so in love it's making him look stupid)

Actually made a very misguided but solid follow-through attempt to fix the Freddie situation as soon as he realized how upset Guillermo was about it

IT'S JUST SOOOO MUCH!!! I've been going through the series highlighting Nandermo moments for creative idea purposes in these last few weeks, and I can honestly say that I believe there are possibly more instances where Nandor has hinted at or displayed his feelings toward Guillermo than there are of Guillermo hinting at or displaying his feelings for Nandor. It's fucking insane you guys. 💖

#what we do in the shadows #wwdits #nandermo #nandor the relentless #guillermo de la cruz #wwdits fx #nandor #wwdits nandor #wwdits meta #wwdits analysis #(it's not /technically/ meta stuff bc it's mostly just recounting canon facts but i'm tagging it anyway lol #nandor and guillermo #nandor analysis #my posts

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kckt88 · 6 months

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Taking of a City.

Summary:

After Aemond leaves for Harrenhal, Rhaenyra and Daemon arrive in Kings Landing to reclaim the Iron Thone.

Warning(s): Swearing, Blood, Death,

Word Count: 2100

Author Note: A companion piece to Wedding & Consummation/Bath Time/Arrival(s)/Mother & Father/Petitions & Final Tributes/The Hand, The King & The Dragon/Dragonstone/Blood & Cheese/A Time for Grief/The Gullet/Harrenhal and the Rivers/The Gods Eye, The Fallen Queen & New Beginnings.

But can be read as a one-shot.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

“You want to go to Harrenhall?” asked Vaera.

“We’ve given Rhaenyra a month to concede. It’ll be easier if we get rid of Daemon first”.

“What about Kings Landing?” asked Vaera.

“I will leave my Queen in charge” replied Aemond as he took of the conquerors crown and placed it on Vaera’s head.

“B-But the other Lords. Aemond they won’t accept me” exclaimed Vaera.

“Yes, they will. Besides Ser Criston is coming with me. There is no one else that can sit the Iron Throne. I’ve already spoke to them, and they’ve all pledged to support you in my absence”.

“How many of them did you threaten to kill?” asked Vaera sheepishly.

“Only three. But I know you’ll be fine. I need someone on the Throne that I can trust, and I need Cannibal here just in case” said Aemond.

“What about my mother?” asked Vaera as she eyed Vhagar in the distance.

“I should be back in time. Harrenhall isn’t too far from Kings Landing.”

“Assuming of course you manage to deal with Daemon in that time” muttered Vaera.

“I have to try Vaera” said Aemond firmly.

“I know you do. I’m just worried. Daemon is no ill trained knight. He’s a seasoned warrior, and if anything happened to you. I don’t know what I’d do” said Vaera her lips wobbling.

“Listen to me, if something was to happen-“

“-Aemond. No” gasped Vaera shaking her head.

“If something was to happen to me, you need take Rhaegar and leave Westeros” urged Aemond.

“L-Leave Westeros?” asked Vaera.

“You and Rhaegar get on the back of Cannibal, and you fly as far east as you can. I will go to my death content with the knowledge that you and our children will live” said Aemond as he ran a hand over the small swell of Vaera’s stomach.

“D-Don’t die” sobbed Vaera.

“I’ll try not to. But I swear if I do, I will take your cunt of a father with me” said Aemond, as he pressed one last kiss to Vaera’s forehead and headed towards Vhagar.

Almost a week without Aemond and Vaera was missing him terribly and sitting in endless council meetings was boring.

Day in day out, the Lords would argue on the best way to deal with Rhaenyra and Daemon, it was getting tiresome, for every argument there was no progress.

Everything hinged on Aemond being able to retake Harrenhall and deal with Daemon.

Thinking about Aemond confronting Daemon made Vaera feel sick to her stomach. Both Daemon and Aemond were skilled with a blade, but Daemon had seen battle. He once been crowned King of the narrow sea.

Vaera just prayed to the gods of old Valyria that Aemond would survive.

After having a meeting with grand maester Orwyle, to check that everything was progressing well with the babe she carried, Vaera decided to distract herself and spend time with the children.

Maelor was fussy so Alicent decided to keep him inside but permitted Vaera to take Jaehaera to the gardens with Rhaegar.

“Do you think my Kepa will like these?” asked Jaehaera, holding up a tulip.

“He’ll love them” replied Vaera smiling.

“Can I pick flowers too mama?” asked Rhaegar quietly.

“Of course, you can sweet boy” said Vaera.

Rhaegar squealed excitedly as he humped off his mother’s knee and joined Jaehaera.

“What about this?”

“Rhaegar, that’s a weed” sighed Jaehaera rolling her eyes.

“Oh” muttered Rhaegar sadly.

“B-But it’s got pretty leaves, maybe we could include it” suggested Jaehaera smiling.

Rhaegar’s face immediately brightened up and he nodded eagerly.

After half an hour, it was beginning to get a little bit chilly, so Vaera decided it was time to head inside.

“Right, let’s take those flowers to your Kepa” said Vaera as she took hold of Rhaegar and Jaehaera’s hands.

“Ser Arryk” called Vaera.

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“Would you be so as to escort us to Aegon’s chambers?” asked Vaera.

“Of course,” replied Ser Arryk.

Vaera and the children followed the knight to Aegon’s chambers in silence, the only noise echoing around the corridors was the clanking of Ser Arryk’s armour.

“Kepa. We brought you flowers” cooed Jaehaera as she kissed her father’s forehead.

“They’re beautiful” breathed Aegon.

Jaehaera smiled as she snuggled into her father’s arms.

“I-Is that a weed?” asked Aegon.

“Rhaegar picked them. Jae said they had pretty leaves” replied Vaera.

“I have to agree” muttered Aegon.

“When will you get better Uncle Egg? asked Rhaegar.

“I’m not sure, but I hope its soon”.

“Me too. I miss you Kepa” whispered Jaehaera.

“I’ll be back on my feet soon, don’t you worry”.

“Maybe mama will get better soon as well” said Jaehaera hopefully.

“Let’s hope so” said Vaera quietly, as she noticed a single tear slide down Aegon’s cheek.

The death of Jaehaerys had devastated Aegon more than anyone realised. His devastation was also coupled with the guilt that he’d not been a good father in the first place.

Since the death of his son and nephew, he vowed that he would try to be a better man, a better father, and a better husband.

Loving Helaena as his sister was easy. It was loving her as a wife that was difficult.

“Have you heard from Aemond recently?” asked Aegon.

“No. But no news is good news, right?” muttered Vaera.

Aegon reached forward and took Vaera’s hand in his, trying to offer his good sister comfort.

Suddenly their was a loud bang and screams were heard.

“W-What’s going on?” asked Aegon shocked.

“I’m not sure, I’ll go check” replied Vaera.

Rhaegar and Jaehaera huddled closer to Aegon as Vaera left the room.

Ser Arryk who had been standing guard outside the door, was nowhere to be found and there were no other guards around.

So, Vaera made her way slowly down the corridor to one of the secret passageways.

After managing to squeeze through the gap, Vaera cautiously walked through one of the secret corridors. If something was wrong, it was better to keep out of sight, and soon she found herself squeezed into a secret alcove attached to the Throne room.

There was a sudden rush of footsteps and Vaera peered through the gap in the stone, to see what was happening and what she saw made her blood run cold.

“Rhaenyra. You must stop this madness before it is too late.” said Alicent.

“Madness?. You speak of madness? One of your sons steals my birth right and the other murders my Luke, and you accuse me of madness?” sneered Rhaenyra.

“My son stole nothing. He is Viserys first-born son and Aemond did not murder Lucerys. It was you who had assassins sent into the Red Keep to murder innocent children, one of them your own grandson” said Alicent squaring her shoulders.

“That was not my-“ said Rhaenyra.

“Do you have any idea how your daughter has suffered because of your cruelty?”

“A necessary loss. The brat was part Hightower” quipped Daemon.

“You despicable excuse for a man” spat Alicent.

“Speaking of my daughter, where is she and that other Hightower spawn of hers?” asked Daemon.

“Not here, they went with Aemond to Harrenhall” lied Alicent.

“Lies. The Cannibal still rests beyond the walls of the Red Keep. Vaera is here and believe me as soon as we’ve dealt with you then she will be found” said Daemon.

“Do you intend to harm her?” asked Alicent.

“She supported my usurper, had her Cannibal destroy the Velaryon fleet and she kidnapped my son. My daughter will answer for what she has done,” said Rhaenyra.

“Your daughter is what you made her” snapped Alicent.

“Seize them!” snarled Daemon.

“That will not be necessary. I will cooperate. I am your prisoner. I will go quietly to my chambers, or to the dungeons”

But Daemon only laughed.

“The only place you’re going is to the Seven Hells to be with your precious gods.”

Otto roared in anger, and jumped protectively in front of his daughter even as the remaining Kings guard surrounded them. Not that it helped.

Ser Rickard fell first, slain by Ser Harold Westerling and soon all of the remaining Kings guard were dead, leaving their defence solely in the hands of the castle guards. And to their credit, they fought bravely. They did not stop fighting until the last of them fell.

Soon, the throne room was strewn with bloodied corpses, but ultimately, the Greens were outnumbered. Within minutes, the Green council was wearing chains, and Rhaenyra was climbing the steps to the Iron Throne.

Seizing Otto roughly, Daemon dragged him in front of the Iron Throne. With his arms bound, he was helpless to defend himself as Daemon forced him to kneel.

Wide-eyed, Alicent turned to Rhaenyra, silently begging for her father’s life, and for a moment, she thought he might be spared.

“Otto Hightower. You are guilty of treason. You are guilty of conspiracy against the rightful heir to the Iron Throne and you are also guilty of being a massive cunt.” snarled Daemon.

And to Alicent’s sheer horror, Rhaenyra didn't utter a single word to stop her husband.

“Send him to the Wall. Let him take the black” cried Alicent.

But it was useless. The look on Daemon’s face said it all. He was not there for justice. He was out for blood.

Otto was not even granted the dignity of last words before Daemon raised Dark Sister and quickly sliced off his head.

Vaera clasped her hand to her mouth, trying not to make a sound as Otto’s severed head hit the stone floor with a dull thud.

She had to get back to Aegon and the children. Now.

Her mother and Daemon would not linger in the throne room for much longer and it would only be a matter of time before they gave the command for their soldiers to tear through the Red Keep.

Picking up her skirts, Vaera ran as fast she could back to Aegon’s chambers.

Bursting unceremoniously through the doors, startling Aegon and the children.

“We-We have to move. Now” said Vaera.

“W-What’s going on?” asked Aegon.

“My mother and Daemon are here. They’ve captured your mother and your grandsire is dead” exclaimed Vaera.

“G-Grandsire is dead” gasped Aegon his eyes wide.

“We have to leave. Now” snapped Vaera.

“I-I can’t walk” said Aegon.

“You have to try. I can’t leave you here. Daemon will kill you”.

“What about Helaena and Maelor?” asked Aegon as he shuffled uncomfortably on the bed.

“They spared your mother, so they’ll most likely spare Helaena and Maelor, they'll need hostages-” said Vaera.

“-How are we going to-“

Suddenly the door flew open, and a haggard looking Ser Arryk came barrelling into the room.

“Where the fuck have you been?” snarled Vaera.

“Apologise, I was helping Lord Strong escape with young Prince Maelor, he intends to take him to Old Town”.

“You’re here now. I need you to help Aegon and get him out of the Red Keep” urged Vaera.

“What about you?” asked Ser Arryk as he hauled Aegon from the bed.

“I don’t-“

“G-Go to Harrenhall. Aemond is there” said Aegon wincing in pain.

“We don’t have much time. We need to leave now” urged Ser Arryk.

“What about Daeron?”

“If he has any sense, he’ll stay in Oldtown” said Aegon.

“Go Your Grace” urged Ser Arryk.

Vaera gathered Rhaegar and Jaehaera in her arms and held them tight.

“Now, I need you both to be quiet. Can you do that for me?” asked Vaera.

Both the children nodded quickly.

“Let’s go” muttered Vaera.

The walk through the secret passageways was tough, as they had to keep stopping for Aegon to catch his breath.

Daemon’s soldiers were now tearing through the Red Keep.

The sounds of shouting, banging and screaming echoed through the Red Keep.

“You need to get the dragon pit” said Vaera.

“What about you?” wheezed Aegon.

“Cannibal rests outside of the Red Keep, the secret passage just past Balerion will take me too him” replied Vaera.

“Get to Harrenhall. Tell Aemond what’s happened” urged Aegon wincing as Ser Arryk picked him up once more.

“I will” said Vaera nodding.

“Take care of my daughter.” replied Aegon.

“I promise”

“Be good for your aunt Vaera my butterfly. I’ll see you soon” said Aegon.

“I will Kepa” said Jaehaera quietly.

“It looks good on you” quipped Aegon.

“What does?” asked Vaera.

“The crown”.

“I forgot I was wearing it” exclaimed Vaera.

“Go Princess. It won’t be long before the passageways are searched,” said Ser Arryk.

Vaera nodded and spared Aegon one more glance before she led the children down another darkened tunnel.

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