#consort/general au

[green-eyedfirework]

Ra's al Ghul was a fool, and there was only one way Dick was surviving this.

Dick adjusted the scarf covering his face, hitched Damian higher in his grip, and pressed against the stone wall, waiting anxiously for guards to pass him on their rotation.  The one benefit of a siege was that Ra's was more concerned with stopping people from coming in than letting people leave, and the guards usually posted outside Dick's door had been reassigned.

Finding Damian had been the hard part, Dick had no idea where Ra's had taken him after ripping him from Dick's weak arms after his birth four months ago, but he'd assumed—correctly—that Ra's wouldn't want a crying infant anywhere near him, heir or not.  Luckily, Dick knew where the nursery was.  He felt slightly sorry about knocking out the maids, but not enough to avoid it.

Ra's al Ghul was going to lose, and Dick wanted to be nowhere in the crossfire.

Dick had managed to make friends in the castle despite Ra's' best efforts, and it wasn't hard to notice that they were in a siege when Dick could see the fires from the tower window.  General Wilson had clearly come a lot further a lot faster than anyone had expected.  Judging by the size of the army, the castle would fall in the fortnight.

And Dick knew his likely fate.

Slade Wilson hated Ra's al Ghul for murdering his son.  It wasn't a stretch that that hatred would extend to Dick and Damian as well.  Even if Dick could somehow persuade the man to spare his life and ransom him back to Gotham, there was no way Wilson would pass up the chance to murder Ra's' heir in front of the decrepit old alpha.

"It's okay, Dami," Dick whispered to his son's hair.  It'd been the longest that Dick had held his son since he was born.  "We'll be okay."

The guards finally passed out of sight and Dick quickly crossed the yard.  There was a secret tunnel in the stonework that led out into the woods behind the castle and Dick's primary plan was to get out and make for Gotham.

Dick wasn't stupid.  Without horses, without weapons or supplies, without a place to sleep or money to buy food, they weren't going to get very far.  Dick had once been a capable fighter, but that was before he'd been locked in a tower.  Now, with an infant in tow—even if Damian was silent, sleepily content with the rare smell of his mother—he'd be lucky to make it to the mountain passes out of the Cradle, much less all the way to the border with Gotham.

"Halt!" a voice called out in the woods and Dick froze.

The far more likely outcome was that Dick would be caught by one of the innumerable soldiers combing through the woods.  Avoiding the main camp wouldn't do much, when Wilson had an entire army at their gates.  Dick took a deep breath as the squad of soldiers neared and took up positions to surround him.

"State your name and purpose," the lead soldier demanded.

Dick swallowed.  "My—my name is Dick," he said quietly, fingers tightening on Damian.  "I'm not—I'm just trying to get to the pass."

"You're awfully close to the castle."

Dick darted a glance back at the massive walls rising in the distance.  "I'm—" Dick took a deep breath, "I'm running from the castle.  I—please.  I have a baby.  I don't—I just want to go home."

The soldier stepped closer, until the torchlight illuminated Damian's face as well.  The hard lines of his face softened as Dick tried to keep his posture as that of a scared, hunted omega.  It didn't require that much acting.

"Where's home?" the soldier asked, voice softer.

"Gotham," Dick responded.  Just enough of the truth to keep it real, not enough to rouse suspicion.

"You're a long way from home."  Do you think I haven't realized?  "Okay, Dick, we'll help you get to the mountain pass—" Dick raised his head up, hope rising—"as long as you come to our camp to tell us how you got out of the castle."

Hope flickered.

"Of course," Dick said, dread pooling in his gut.

Dick knew there was a high probability of being caught by Wilson's men.  Dick knew that there was a high probability of meeting Wilson himself.  Dick knew that a scarf and some bruises were not an adequate disguise, not when he carried Ra's al Ghul's heir in his arms.

Dick knew he needed a plan for the confrontation.

It had been the sticking point of his preparations to leave.  If he was going to be executed anyway, why put in the effort of running away?  He needed something to convince Slade Wilson not to kill him, and somehow he figured knowledge of the castle wasn't going to be enough.  And even if he could convince Wilson that Ra's al Ghul cared nothing for him and thus killing Dick was no revenge at all, he couldn't save Damian like that.

Damian was Dick's son, his precious little baby, his adorable pup that he saw once a week for a half-hour if he begged Ra's long enough, but Wilson wouldn't care.  Not after what Ra's had done to him.  He'd kill Damian in his arms so that Dick could watch his son die like Wilson had watched his own son die.  And Dick would do anything, anything to avoid that.

There was really only one solution left to him.  Bargaining was useless, Dick had no power in Nanda Parbat.  Bringing up Gotham was a coin toss, Dick was an al Ghul now, and his family had written him off for dead when he'd first went to Ra's.  The only appeal Dick could make that had a chance of succeeding was a plea for Wilson's mercy.

He'd heard that Wilson was an honorable man.  A ruthless general, yes, but fair to his own men.  There was a reason half the country had risen in support of him.  Wilson commanded loyalty in a way Ra's al Ghul did not, and the old alpha had learnt that fear was an ineffective motivator.

Dick's last, diminishing hope that Dick would just be led to a captain to explain his escape and then be on his way died an ignoble death when he was ushered into the command tent.

The murmur of conversation died out with alacrity as Dick halted in front of the entrance.  The soldier who led him there stepped forward, "Apologies, sirs, but I found an omega claiming they escaped from a secret tunnel in the castle."

The weight of gazes on him intensified.  Dick lifted his gaze just slightly, scanning past faces and halting on a silver-haired alpha with an eyepatch and an icy blue eye, powerful presence evident even in a room full of commanders.

"A secret tunnel in the castle," Slade Wilson said, tone low and neutral.  His gaze was piercing.  "What's your name, omega?  And why were you trying to leave the castle in the first place?"

Dick swallowed.  There was a prayer that he could pass unnoticed, that Wilson didn't remember his face from the wedding, that no one else would recognize him, that Dick would be long gone by the time anyone connected a lone omega with a child to Ra's al Ghul's fled mate and heir.

Unfortunately, it wasn't practical.  And for all of Dick's calculations, they always ended up here.

Dick knelt, curling a hand behind Damian's head and keeping him pressed close as he bowed his head.  "My name is Richard al Ghul, General.  And I surrender to you."

Silence.  No one was breathing.  Dick certainly wasn't, heart pounding in his ears as footsteps crunched towards him.  "Get up," Wilson demanded, voice colder and darker, and Dick struggled back up to his feet.

Wilson was right in front of him now and Dick held perfectly still as the alpha tore off his scarf, baring his face.  He couldn't hide the protective flinch when Wilson's icy gaze dropped down to Damian and thankfully it moved back up to Dick.  "You surrender," Wilson said flatly.

"Yes, alpha," Dick said, tilting his head enough to bare his neck.  His heart was beating loud enough he was sure Wilson could hear it.

Surrender was an old way for people to ask for protection from packs.  It was considered dishonorable to turn away anyone who surrendered, as they had to give up any previous pack bonds to throw themselves at another pack's mercy.  It would be the height of disrepute to kill someone who'd offered their surrender.

Judging by the scent of fury coming from Slade Wilson, Dick wasn't sure if that would stop him.

Surrender wasn't used much anymore, and Dick was the enemy.  Dick doubted anyone in the tent would stop Wilson from murdering him.  But if Wilson portrayed himself as a stable, sane alternative to the homicidal Ra's al Ghul—

"Very well," Wilson snarled in a deeply displeased tone of voice, "I accept your surrender."  He grabbed Dick's arm, and before Dick could even brace himself, there were teeth sinking into his collarbone, biting down hard and deep and vicious.

Dick yelped, and lost his balance when his knees went weak, but Wilson's grip held him up until the alpha was satisfied.  He let go almost as soon as he disengaged the bite, and Dick ended up crumpling, curling over Damian in the instinctive urge to make himself a smaller target.

The newly formed pack bond throbbed down his collarbone and Dick felt sick.  It felt like less of a violation than his previous one but it was just as one-sided.

Ra's had tortured Dick to extract his revenge for the trick that sent Dick to marry Ra's in Tim's place.  Dick had no doubt that Wilson could be just as inventive, if not more.

But Wilson couldn't kill him, the same way Ra's couldn't kill him.  Pack slaying was the gravest of sins.  Dick was safe.  More importantly, Damian was safe.  And for that, Dick would endure Wilson's rage.

"You know," the low voice hummed, a hand drifting across Dick's shoulder, "I had a lot of plans for Ra's al Ghul's pack."  Fingers skimmed across the bite and up.  "I didn't know I'd be lucky enough to have them fall into my lap." The hand squeezed at the back of his neck.

The scruffing was enough to finish the job the bite had started and Dick made a startled sound as he went fully pliant, held upright by nothing more than the hand on his neck.  Damian made a low, upset sound, likely from Dick's growing distress and the new pack bonds, and began to wail.

Dick tried to shush him but he couldn't move and his voice was barely a whisper.  Wilson didn't let go, though, and pitched his voice to the rest of the tent.  "You're all dismissed.  Review the plans and come back tomorrow with revised ideas.  And double the guards—I don't want anyone sneaking in or out of camp."

A flurry of movement erupted, but Dick couldn't see it.  He could only see Wilson, crouched in front of him, glaring.

"Leaves us some time to get acquainted, hm, Richard?" Wilson said lowly.  "So we can figure out exactly why you're here."

Dick felt his stomach twist.

"If this is Ra's al Ghul's idea of a clever plan," Wilson said softly, "I will make sure you spend every day from now until you die regretting it."

~#~

Dick was stripped of his pack as soon as he was dragged to another tent—which he was expecting—and Damian—which caused something to clench in his chest, tight with panic.  Wilson's grip didn't let him go after his pup, though, and attacking would've hurt Damian, and the silver-haired girl that neatly stole Damian from his arms vibrated with the same hum of pack he could feel so he could at least trust that she wouldn't murder him.

"So you're our new little baby," the girl cooed, holding the crying pup with ease and tapping him lightly on the nose.  "Shh, it's okay, baby, no need to cry—look!  I got your nose!"

Damian was unimpressed with the trick and only cried harder.

"Rose," Wilson said flatly, "that's Ra's al Ghul's son."

Dick tensed but Rose just shrugged, still working at distracting Damian from his tears.  "Well, he's ours now, right?"  Dick swallowed, but Wilson didn't visibly disagree.

Instead, Wilson was looking at him, ignoring the shrieking baby with the calm of years of practice.  Dick was not quite so sanguine and kept twitching in Rose's direction as he tried to keep his attention on Wilson.

"Strip," Wilson ordered finally and Dick went still.

Well.  Not like it was the first time.  Dick removed his clothes carefully and folded them to the side before straightening up, entirely naked, hands at his side.  He didn't look in Rose's direction.  Ra's liked to have other people in the room too, another way to add to Dick's punishment.  He never really got over the fact that he didn't get the Wayne omega that he wanted.

Damian's crying picked up a notch and Dick winced.  "Dad," Rose said, sounding mildly irritated, she was rocking Damian back and forth, "I think he's hungry."

Wilson blew out a sharp breath.  "Feed him," he said sharply, “and then we'll get back to our conversation."

Dick took a step toward Damian before halting, throat thick.  "I—I can't—I can't feed him."

"Excuse me?"

"He had a wet nurse," Dick admitted haltingly.  Ra's had kept Dick from Damian for the entire first month of Damian's birth, no matter how desperately Dick begged, and his milk had eventually stopped.  He'd tried to feed Damian when he next got to see him, but it was an exercise in futility.

Yet another thing Ra's had taken away from him.

Wilson's judgmental expression clearly showed what he thought of Dick's inability to feed his own pup.

"Go find Wintergreen," Wilson waved irritably at Rose.  "He'll know where to find someone."  Rose looked at Dick, looked at her father, and shrugged, walking out of the tent with Damian in her arms.

Dick felt like half his heart had yanked out of his rib cage and followed her.

He didn't notice that Wilson was right in front of him until the alpha growled, "Now, back to our discussion.  Why is Ra's al Ghul's mate wandering around the woods with his heir?"

"I was—I was trying to leave.  To get to Gotham."

"Abandoning your pack?" Wilson arched an eyebrow.

"He's not my pack," Dick said stiffly.  Wilson had started to circle him and Dick resisted the urge to cross his arms.

"Your mate.  Your kingdom.  And you expect me to believe that you came here to surrender with no ulterior motive?"

"You're winning," Dick said hollowly.

"How coldly practical of you."

"You're going to breach the castle," Dick said, looking up to meet Wilson's gaze.  "You're going to defeat Ra's.  And you would've come after Damian and me.  So yes, I surrendered to you, because it was the only way to keep my pup alive."

Wilson had finished his circle and stopped in front of Dick, staring.  "Do you know what Ra's al Ghul did to my son?" he asked finally.

Dick swallowed thickly.  "I'm sorry," he tried quietly.

"Do you know what I want to do to his son?"

Dick's breath caught in his throat.  "Please," he whispered, "please, he's just a baby, please don't—I'll do anything—please don't hurt him—"

"Anything," Wilson cut him off, eyes glittering.

Dick dropped to his knees, eyes already blurry.  "Anything," he promised.  "He's a baby, please, he didn't know, he wasn't even born then."  The first tear dripped hot and wet down his cheek.  "If you want revenge, take it out on me, but not Damian, please—"

A hand wrapped around his throat cut off his pleading.  Dick choked for a moment, before realizing that the hand wasn't actually cutting off his air and he could take shallow breaths.  The tears were falling faster and Wilson was nothing more than a blurry blob crouched in front of him.

"Take it out on you?" Wilson said quietly, voice razor sharp.  "Judging by the looks of you, I'd say Ra's al Ghul cares next to nothing for you.  What good would hurting you do?"  Terror rose in Dick's stomach, climbing up his chest, choking him as Wilson continued, "But his precious heir?  Ra's cares about him.  And I will have my revenge."

No, Dick wanted to shout, to scream, to shriek desperately as he groveled at Wilson's feet, but the alpha scruffed him again, and the sudden relaxation was too much of a shock to his over-stressed system.  The world went dizzy and grayness swirled around him, and Dick didn't even remember hitting the ground.

[randomnameless]

My husband came up with this idea that made me see Ionius in a slightly different way: Edelgard mentions that the Empire "demands many heirs" in her Goddess Tower support w/ Byleth, hence why Ionius had a load of kids by different women. Normally I'd think "wow that's stupid, way to invite a power struggle after you're dead" but what if it's actually an Empire tradition? Like, Ionius maybe is the first Emperor in a while to try to consolidate power but maybe only one of many to have a ton of kids, AND the reason is not only to have a kid with a Crest, but that the Slitherers practice Crest experimentation on each generation of heirs with the hope of creating a two-crested Nemesis clone to help them kill off the Nabateans. Ionius just happened to be the survivor of his batch of siblings. Maybe having 10-11 kids is to make sure that some of them will live long enough to be the next Emperor, and that's why the "Empire demands many heirs."

Oh!

FWIW, the Index of Imperial Nobility mentions how House Vestra is supposed to "coordinate things such as Imperial Consorts", adding to that how House Vestra has been at the Hresevelgs' back since the danw of the Empire, yeah, we can make a pretty good case that Adrestia has a long standing tradition of, uh, imperial consorts and all.

It can be seen as dumb because it invites power struggles, but it avoids the issue that could very well have happened with the Kingdom, aka Dimitri ded = the King's direct line is dead and it's chaos because one of the first duties of a King/Emperor/Leader under those kinds of hereditary systems is, well, to secure a heir - the lineage cannot be broken!

(that's where we usually have sekrit heirs popping up from nowhere in some kinds of stories, or bastard children !)

Having multiple Consorts - thus a large number of heirs - makes it sure that the line will not be broken as easily as, idk, a baby choking on a pretzel or a serious flu.

However, as Hanneman mentions in Hubert's support, having dozens of consorts means creating dozens of families who suddenly have to get some privileges bcs the Emperor is figging their daughters - and depending on how powerful those families are, if the Emperor obviously favors one kid over the others (or pisses on one over the others) one of those families might not be happy and start shit in the Empire - taking more and more consorts means shaving little by little the power of the Emperor in Adrestia!

(and guesses who spearheads the insurrection? Arundel, one of those "consort kin"!)

The topic of Ionius' 11 children is sadly forgotten by the plot - but iirc Word of God said the Ordelias (Lysithea) were experimented upon as a test, and when the Agarthans had, uhhh, conclusive results, they experimented on the Hresvelgs.

Given who was in charge when Ordelia was ran over by Adrestia - even if no character mentions the consequences or make a link because you have tea bags to sell - imo it would totally make sense that Ionius killed two birds with one stone : flexing his underdeveloped muscles at peons who helped people who dared to betray him, and getting guinea pigs for his plans to get the strongest Emperor ever.

Bear in mind that the Ordelia fuckery was done before the Insurrection aka, Ionius had this plan before Ludwig'n'co decided to depose him!

(Was Vestra aware of what was going on? Who were the Agarthans working with Ionius? Is it a situation à la Manfroy'n'Arvis, people disapproving of the Emperor listening at shady people?)

The Ordelia experiments leads me to believe the plan to become "super strong with dual crests" was hatched and developed during the Ionius era, but again, the game is so crappy at lore building that we don't even know if Ionius had 10 (legitimate) sibs, or only 5, and what they are doing when Supreme Leader is running the show, or did when Ionius was defanged.

Granted, we don't know since when Agarthans are slithering in Adrestia - if we believe the "Willy's sekrit history" was tampered with and assume Supreme Leader was telling the truth, that it was passed down in generations, maybe Agarthans were slowly manipulating Adrestian Emperor to get their revenge on Nabateans (in Nopes, a book about the rebellion of the Southern Church mentions how the Emperor wanted to cut ties with the Central Church anyways since a long time, but doesn't explain why).

And so, maybe Agarthans devised several plans, that all failed, to make the Hresvelgs turn against the Church and be strong enough to be flattened in 5 seconds, and it only worked during Ionius' era ?

We will never know, but it's still fun to think and headcanon about!

To bounce back on the "Adrestia demands many heirs" thing, given how I am fond of a certain AU, what if

This came up as a reaction to the entire Lycaon debacle?

Wilhelm 1 picked a heir, his heir died "to a mysterious illness" and instead of assuming rulership or helping another heir to rule - like he did for Lycaon - Wilhelm bailed out of Adrestia.

It could be explained by Lycaon being the golden child and favourite kid of his dad, so if he's not the one ruling, Dad doesn't give a fuck anymore about his Empire... or -

What if Lycaon was Willy's only child, and the subsequent Hresvelgs are "cousins" or members of a branch family?

In that case, it wouldn't be Willy playing favourites, but bailing out because his own son "suddenly fell ill and died" and he wouldn't be as involved as he was in helping his own kid, if now we're talking about helping a great grand-nephew or someone else.

(Rhea would have had to give a transfusion to the subsequent Emperor - i name her by convenience Hildegarde bcs no imagination and it's faster to type than "the female emperor who succeeded Lycaon and dueled against Ferdie's ancestor who wanted the throne" - to make people believe there is a direct continuity between Wilhelm, Lycaon, Hildegarde and her future heirs).

In that "only kid" scenario, it would also justify why House Hresvelg became so obsessed with taking Consorts and having a lot of heirs - Adrestia was nearly left Emperor-less after Lycaon's death because they had no other heirs to pick a successor from...

[hollenka99]

Artur V now has his great great grandfather as a rival for the title of 'emperor with the most unhinged family dynamic'.

[theglamorousferal]

DPxDC is a fandom in and of itself now. I think we've established that.

It's probably the only fandom I am so avidly a reader of such wildly different things.

I ship Danny with two of the Batboys and also their dad.

I can't think of a ship as good as Jazz/Jason for either of those two characters.

I am obsessed with the demon twins aus where Danny is Damian's twin. I'm obsessed also with my personal thought that it's Sam that's Damian's twin.

I am obsessed with Amity Parkers showing up and just chaos happening.

The Fenton children getting adopted by any number of different villains or heroes. (But especially the villains).

I am here for reincarnation aus, whether it be Danny reincarnated as a batboy, a formerly inviable clone, Thomas Wayne. More Sam Reincarnated as Harley and Ivy's daughter, Martha Wayne, an avatar for the Green. More Pharaoh Tucker, reincarnated as a modern techno-wizard.

Queen Regent Jazz. Queen Regent Maddie. Queen consort Jack. High Prince Danny. Princess Ellie. Prince Dante. Duke Vlad? Plant Queen Sam. Pharaoh Tucker. Ghost Royalty Amity Parkers.

I'm here for Jazz raising de-aged Danny, perhaps also with Ellie and Dante. I'm here for Danny raising de-aged Ellie and Dante. I'm here for de-aged anything really, the thought of being able to re-live childhood marginally better with the knowledge of myself I have now that is just too compelling for me.

I'm here for Danny being an immortal ancient being that the JLD call in during hopeless situations or situation involving direct citizens of his domain. I'm here for him pretending to be an ancient being when summoned.

I'm here for unknowable eldritch Danny. Unknowable eldritch Amity Parkers in general.

I'm here for Just Some Guy ^TM Danny. He has shit luck and is found everywhere by all the vigilantes of whichever city we've dropped him in. He is also an impossibly powerful person who could easily KO the JLA's heavy hitters in minutes.

I just can't get enough of any sort of anything in this crossover. Just everything I can get my grubby little hands on I am here for.

[dcxdpdabbles]

I’ve been rereading you Royal Consort au and haven’t stopped thinking about it. I just know social media during that entire au was fucking insane

Dash Baxter opened his phone one school morning in his senior year after oversleeping for an hour—he may have worked out a little too hard, or he really did have a cold, like his mother claims—and was overwhelmed with messages from his friends.

They all say the same thing.

Have you seen this!?

Is it true?!

I can't believe this is happening!

Will we go to jail? I can't go to jail!

He scrolls through them with heavy confusion until, eventually, he clicks on the link Kwan sent him since the mention of jail seemed like a higher level of importance than whatever new gossip was going about.

Someone was likely pregnant. That was always what Pauline gossip the most about.

His best friend tended to catastrophize, so he figured it was better to help him calm down first.

The link takes him to a news clip showing a crowd of people surrounding a very familiar house. It wasn't the first time the Fentons had been on the news, but they were usually covered by local stations, and it was generally due to the damage the inventors had caused.

Dash knew they were only talked about when things were slow and a fluff story needed to be thrown in. Oh, back in freshman year, when ghosts first appeared, the Fentons were much more important, but now ghosts are a part of everyday life, and sometimes Dash forgot other cities didn't have the same issue.

Nothing the Fentons did was noteworthy, especially to have the Lois Lane covering their story. Yet, here in the palm of his hands, on the morning of a regular school day, he watched as Lois Lane did just that.

"Reporting live from Amity Park outside the residence of the Royal Consort to the Infinite Realms, I'm Lois Lane. Only a few minutes ago, the Justice League members- Batman, Wonder Woman, and Superman- had entered the building hoping to speak to the Consort on a diplomatic mission. The tension between humans and the Realms has been at an all-time high since the Anti-Ecto Acts were passed. Although they were overturned in the last United Nations session, there has still been no comment from King Phantom and no guarantee that a war is not on the horizon." The woman says, holding her mic close to her face while the cameraman pans over the crowd of people outside of Fenton Works.

Dash feels like someone dumped iced water on him and then slapped him with a rubber fish. He is scared, confused, and a little offended. Still, the video continues as Ms. Lane explains the Realms, the political backlash the USA put the rest of the world in, and a brief overview of the humans' chances of winning if a war did break out (not high).

She then admits that their team had gotten a tip, claiming that the Consort has been married to King Phantom for the last three years, and despite not publicly announcing his title, he had all the power of his status.

He.

There were only two "he"s in the Fenton household and Dash knew for a fact Mr. Fenton would never cheat on his wife. Which left only one.

Oh gods.

As Ms.Lane speaks, the door to the house opens behind her, and the three high heroes of Earth outstep.

Along with Danny Fenton, who is squished between Wonder Woman and Superman with a flabbergasted expression, the crowd goes wild as Ms. Lane loudly shouts, "The Royal Consort, Daniel Fenton, husband to King Phantom, is being escorted by some of the most important members of the Justice League to a secondary location for peace negotiations. There is hope for humanity yet."

The clip ends with a close-up of Fenton's wide-eyed stare, which shows him looking terrified—the same expression he used whenever Dash cornered him to vent some of his frustrations.

Dash is left sitting in utter silence and rapidly growing horror. He had been mocking a royal, physically harming a royal, and, worst of all, he had been attacking Danny Phantom's husband, the same being who had been his personal hero for the last three years.

"I'm going to jail." He whispers "I'm so going to jail. Or I'm going to be executed. That happens to people who almost start wars right? Oh, gods."

The rest of the A-listers are panicking all over the city but not nearly as Dash Baxter, who was wondering how much time Fenton would give him for a head start.

It didn't help that Wes messaged Everyone on the basketball team with a gif of a dancing cat wearing sunglasses and the words "I TOLD YOU" in bright, bold colors.

He had repeatedly told them to leave Fenton alone. If they didn't, Phantom would retaliate, but no one had taken his word for it since the boy had originally claimed Phantom and Fenton were the same person.

Dash put his phone down and stared at the wall of his room. He liked that wall. It was covered in posters, pictures of his friends, memories of his best games, and now, with the floating shelves, his teddy bear collections.

He would likely never see it again.

"Oh gods"

[partywithoutsmiling]

Another AU that has been knocking around my mind for a while XD I call it Moonlit AU

It can be summed as such: Pop Trolls are pretty wild bunch when it comes to looks, varying in colours, flocking/fur patterns, glitter, freckles, hair, you name it

It got me thinking, what sort of thing would they find attractive in prospective partner? While singing/harmonizing could be a part of it (and ngl, that did made me think of the Happy Feet movies, as silly as those were), my mind turned towards more physical attributes

Thus, this AU was born- where one of the reasons why Pop trolls like to be most active at night (to party) is that a Moon's Light also allows them to appreciate fur/flocking patterns otherwise hidden, where the complexity and style varies from troll to troll, as is thought to show one's inner self

Contrary to what one would expect from the Princess (and future Queen) of Pop, Poppy's patterns are rather simple- but striking nonetheless, firm and bold stripes, like taking a wide brush to a canvas- straightforward but chaotic in their hardly orderly fashion Poppy struts her patterns; they are unique and dominant among the general showing of swirls, polka dots and flower like spottings She is aware her stripes are not considered the most attractive of features- too similar to that of a predatory critter, too sharp for who is supposed to be cheerful queen of equally cheerful people- but she is a romantic at heart and believes that when it will be time to choose a consort, those physical features are surface-level importance at best, and this is the mentality she has going forward, looking at the glowing marks of her friends and considering them equally beautiful no matter what.

Until she manages to spot Branch one night outside under the full moon light that is.

Branch's pattern, in high contrast to Poppy, is far more complex. Symetrical but delicate in its filigree, and far more detailed than anything the Princess has ever seen before. Usually, Branch ventures out only on moonless nights, as he feels the glow of his marks are too visible, too dangerous to just show out and about, for every dangerous predator to see- and it is purely bad luck when bad weather caughts him outside longer than he would have liked, and Poppy manages to catch the sight of him while he is completely unaware he had been seen.

All her conviction flies right out of the window, as she looks at his delicate patterning and her mind just goes blank and - Oh

Usually she would have called out to him, ask him to come to a party- but she feels mesmerized, hypnotized by the elegance of the filigree, and her mind longs for a way to memorate it forever- with a photo, or a painting- and she stares at the entrance of his bunker long after he vanished inside, completely stupefied and wrong footed.

Before, Poppy hardly ever gave Branch a thought, when it came to this part of Pop Troll culture; as part of her, guiltily, sort of assumed that with his lack of colour, his patterning would be rather bland as well- and besides, it's not like he ever shown a desire to participate in courting dances.

But now she is left with sudden new, and unexpected feeling- her heart and breath going now a bit faster everytime she catches a glimpse of him from now on, her cheeks flushing and her tail wagging in excitement

(Her desk's drawer is filled with failed cut out scrapbook pieces of leaves and tiny detailed filigree, as she attempts to journal her sudden and new discover and cant get it quite right)

Tldr; Pop Trolls have fur/flocking patterns that appear only under the moon's light, and Poppy finds Branch's so irresistibly attractive she hardly knows what to do with herself

This pushes her to try and spend more time with him- just spend time with him, no trying to push him to go to parties with her or trying to get him to sing or hug

For his part, Branch is both secretly pleased his own crush is now paying more attention to him than to Creek (who is not happy with this development) but also holy shit Poppy is paying more attention to him, so it is kind of unnerving for him, freaking him out

[casually-eat-my-soul]

So like mafia/King/wolf king/warlord Derek idea?? Maybe A/B/O au

After Derek becomes heir to the empire (mafia or otherwise) is told by his council over and over again that he must marry and have an heir. He doesn’t trust his council much less the women they bring before him to marry. He would simply prefer to kill them all but unfortunately that would be directly traced to him.

So he abides by their demands and looks for a consort. So he throws a party, the most lavish party. The night is long and dreadfully boring. Derek thinks that at the worst he may ask Braeden to marry him. They are a little to hot headed and never seem to agree on a subject but at least the sex will be good. He spends most of the night trying not to dance with women who smell far to desperate.

He is ducking behind a column to hide from Jennifer when he hears the most clever and spiteful voice tell off one of his council members. He follows the voice to a vision of nymph dressing down his least favourite council member (maybe Deaton??) . Derek is absolutely taken a back by how the siren uses his words to get his way. Dereks preferred method is violence, and he tells this to the boy as he walks over — “it seems that my council member has overstepped, I usually find violence is my preferred way of dealing with such slights. Would you like he to rip his heart out for you?” — Derek kisses his hand and he basically declares to everyone listen he wishes to preform a courting action.

To Derek’s delight, the god in human form blushes. He thanks Derek for the offer but says he dealt with it his way. — “it is quite the generous offer Alpha, but I must decline as I have found words may be just as effective a weapon I promise you.” — Derek, desperate to not let him slip away asked him for a dance. He hesitantly agrees, but after the one dance they do not stop until the end of the night. 

The council member that had tried to hurt Derek’s future consort was found dead the next morning, of poison. It’s in the moment Derek declares that he will marry the boy from the night before. (Delusional Derek who is fully convinced they are to be married, and is just a tiny bit obsessed)

So he sets out to win his heart, cue shenanigans from him and the entire hale pack. Especially after finding out that Derek’s consorts father is a lawful man. A lawful man who would rather see his son with Parrish or Daehler rather than Derek. But stiles however refuses any means of courting expect for Derek’s. Because he knows the wolf is the only one for him. (If you like this idea please check out @hedwig221b Torn apart and set Anew)

Stiles didn’t care, Derek understood him in most ways that other didn’t. When his father would tell him that Derek was dangerous stiles wanted to shout back that so was he. His father ignored the worst parts of stiles, Scott didn’t even sees them but Derek understood. He didn’t just see stiles as a helpless omega. Derek is super fucking prideful about this and every time he sees Parrish or Daehler he just smirks at them.

Derek throws another party, this one to publicly state his intention to marry stiles. His council members kick up a big fuss about it until Derek reminds them that they are the ones who wanted Derek to have a consort. He abided by the rules. They claimed Derek couldn’t mate a beta but Derek ignored him. (Stiles doesn’t advertise the fact that he’s an omega)

Derek buys stiles a dress and jewels to wear.

Stiles only dances with Derek that night, anytime someone else asks him he refuses. (Parrish). During one of their dances when the music is fast paced and stiles heart is beating out of his chest, stiles spark comes into play and creates ribbons of energy that dance alongside them. So it looks like they are dancing in fire. (This is what kickstarted this idea)

So they marry and stiles helps Derek secure his claim.

Derek over hears his council talking bad about his husband so he kills them and then fucks his stiles pregnant to prove them wrong.

He also drags Daehler before his beloved omega for overstepping, and this time when Derek offers to rip out his heart for stiles, he agrees.

[jeonggukookies]

the crown's kingdom || jjk

– summary: after rejecting many suitors, your mother chooses a husband for you, and her choice is none other than your worst nightmare: Jungkook, the prince heir of Aurum. How will you survive an arranged marriage with Jungkook, the one you hate the most?

– genre: royalty!au, enemies to lovers!au, prince!jungkook, queen!reader, arranged marriage - fluff/angst

– note: this is rewritten and reposted as i changed and added some NEW details regarding both oc and jungkook & loosely based on the history of mary stuart !! (i am so sorry)

– word count: 1.2K

The two countries, Caelestia and Luxuria, have been in conflict with each other for many generations now, with constant ongoing invasion battles and military campaigns, shedding hundreds of thousands of blood on each landmass. Being two border countries surrounded by the sea, both countries were hungry for the power, land, and wealth for it to be one.  

Tensions escalated even further after your father, the king, had been assassinated by a Luxuria anarchist. Luxuria soldiers saw this opportunity to put the Caelestia castle under siege, seeing this as their chance to finally take the country as their own. 

But what they didn’t know is that your mother, the Queen Consort, had given birth to his heir. 

The throne of Caelestia, was inherited by the daughter of King Constantine of Caelestia and Queen Consort Nylah, you, two days after you were born. 

During your childhood, your mother has been acting Queen Regent, taking care of all the responsibilities on your behalf since you’ve been crowned Queen. She wasn’t like most mothers, letting you live a privileged life, not wanting you to suffer through the hardships of royalty until you were of age. 

Despite spending most of your time with your many governesses and trying to play hide and seek in the castle with other noble children, the People of Luxuria still saw you as a threat. And by your seventh birthday, they were finally brave enough to send a message, that they still wanted your throne by seasoning your porridge with poison, intentionally killing your royal taster.  

With a failed assassination attempt, your mother sent you to the country of Aurum for your protection away from the Luxurians, hidden away from your own people across the sea. 

Not only were you the Queen of Caelestia, but because of your mother’s side, you were related to the Queen of Luxuria, meaning you could claim the Luxuria throne as yours if the Queen of Luxuria dies without a heir and if the people accept you.

Before marrying your father, she had been an Aurum noblewoman with land in Luxuria, and the Aurum court allowed you to be there for your safety and as a part of a small, meaningless alliance. 

Living at Aurum Court was almost the same as your own courts. The only difference was being with other Aurum royals. As a child, the Prince of Aurum had been a constant troublemaker, a reigning terror for his own people. He was known for cheekiness and confidence, getting out of tough situations with his charms and good looks. 

“Jungkook.” You forced a smile, entering the throne room after being suddenly summoned in the middle of the night. “What are you doing here?” 

He pointed in the direction in front of him, and there was his parents, the King and Queen consort of Aurum on their respective thrones with your mother standing next to his mother.

Your jaw dropped, not expecting her to be standing in front of you. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had seen her in person. The last few years, you’ve only been corresponding with letters to her. “What are you doing here?” 

“That’s no way to greet your mother.” She came forward to give you a quick hug and then returned back to her original position. “The Luxuria troops are getting stronger at the border.”

“And I’m sorry, how does this matter revolve around me and my country?” Jungkook asked. 

You rolled your eyes at Jungkook’s comment. As children, your personality always clashed with Jungkook. The two of you always tried to avoid each other at all costs.

Although you and Jungkook were raised together in the castle, experiencing the same exact royal lessons of courtesy, ballroom dancing and diplomacy, you never once could get along with Jungkook, turning everything with him into an argument or competition whether it was for academic endeavors or favoring the people of

the court.

“I took a risk coming here as Luxuria has barely allowed travel between our two countries,” she said. “I came here to finalize the alliance, that the two of you would wed.” 

Jungkook sighed. “It happened, didn’t it?” 

“What happened?” You asked, not understanding the context. “Hasn’t Jungkook been engaged with Princess Comet of Cometes since they were six?”

“The King legitimized his first-born and mistress’s son,” his mother explained.

Your heart dropped upon hearing the news. “She is no longer the Princess of Cometes?”

“I am afraid not, but good news, Jungkook, you have a new bride,” your mother announced. 

“This can’t be,” you insisted. “Surely, there’s someone else.” 

“My child, you will marry our son and make him the king of two countries, and then later put your claim on Luxuria once the queen dies. There, you two will have three countries,” the King said. 

But you never once wanted to rule Luxuria.  

“We have given you protection and will continue to do so for this alliance.” 

“But we cannot be wed,” Jungkook argued. 

“You will especially since you’ve scared all the other suitors away,” your mother said. 

You were fiercely known for your independence and stubbornness, always speaking your mind. Your honesty and independency allowed you to earn your title as the Ice Queen, but that was all because of Jungkook. 

Through the game of telephone and writing secretive notes around the castle, the whole castle knew how you rejected possibly the best suitor for love, Kim Namjoon. He would have given up his country for you, and everyone knew it. 

At the time you were thirteen, still lacking tact, you met with Namjoon in the library and told him that giving up his own country for someone was foolish and idiotic. And Jungkook, hiding behind the curtains of that room, ran with it, spreading the word that you broke Namjoon’s heart, needing more than him and his country as a power hungry queen. 

Kim Namjoon’s heart wasn’t the only one you broke. Prominent and wealthy families from neighboring realms had sent their sons to court you, yet their efforts left you unimpressed and unmoved. 

As the years went on, there were less and less potential suitors. No one wanted their son to marry someone who was an intimidating person, and no one especially wanted a queen that could not be controlled. 

“It’s time for this childhood rivalry of yours to end.” 

“Mother, you know he’s the reason why suitors are afraid of me.”

“Get over it,” Jungkook gritted through his teeth. 

“How dare he disrespect me as a queen?”

“He was thirteen.” Your mother groaned. “You will marry Jungkook for your people, for your country.” 

You stepped forward, distancing yourself away so no one could hear what you were about to say. “And you and I know he will not love me.”

As fortunate as your life was, there was still a burden to bear, a burden even heavier as a royal. You still sought for an union to secure your financial and political status in society. Despite being a queen and having almost everything you want, the one thing you want the most is the one thing you knew you couldn't have: love.

She sighed. “And we both know love does not matter for people like us.” 

“But did thou not love my father and he thee?” Despite his death, the story of your father and his legacy lives on, including his love story with your mother. 

“Indeed, we loved each other truly,” she said. “But stories like his and mine happen once in a lifetime. Perhaps, the promise of love and the future of reconciliation can come.” 

Taking a look over your shoulder. You see Jungkook smirking. “Well Ice Queen looks like we need each other after all.”

________

hello hello hello!

thank you for reading the prologue for this new series :) i am very excited! please let me know if you need more context or visuals of some things were confusing.

[brucewaynehater101]

In the Tim Emperor of Space au, being the ruler of multiple planets, possibly having multiple names he's referred to across planets since they have their own traditions and ideas of what a proper title might be, not to mention that at least a few of the planets came under Tim's hold while he was Robin while others while he was Red Robin, and I don't see Tim as being the sort of person who'd tell entire planets his actual, legal name,

getting off track

Anyway, in this AU, something to make note of, YJ is, for good reason, very co dependent, they had to be since in most cases they had next to no support in their day to day lives and several were in actively abusive situations and they only had fellow teens to help them

So, YJ knows and has always known that their birdie is an emperor, it makes him happy to help people so they support his hobby. Had this been a thing then rather than suggesting Tim get help and accept Bruce's death, Cassie would have instead suggested that Tim go on a royal tour/visit across his planets in the hopes that the time and distance would give him some perspective and the active adoration from his planets would probably also help in her opinion. He didn't but after the Brucrquest is done, Cassie might suggest he go on the royal tour anyway because he needs a break.

Anyway, Bart, Kon, and Cassie, sometimes just one, sometimes all, or in any combination, are considered royal consorts on Tim's various planets, depending on societal norms and attitudes on each planet. On at least one or more of the planets, each of the core four has inspired at least one cult that is quickly becoming a recognized religion across the galaxy. On the planets where any or all of them are the royal consort, their job is mostly to wear pretty things, fend off suitors who want to take advantage of their birdie, participate in charity events, and do their part in whatever convoluted scheme Tim has come up with to help out another planet that wants to be under Tim's aegis. They find it's very much like going as Tim's arm candy to a civilian event but they get to punch more people.

I love the idea of them maintaining various roles for Tim dependent on the culture of the planet. Sometimes, they are his advisors, or consorts, or generals, body guards, religious leaders (for the cult they accidentally started), vague family members, etc. The YJ definitely has fun in the different roles (even retired ones occasionally help out [it's like a vacation but in space]).

Tim has a very helpful spreadsheet (that links to more documents for further information) that explains who takes up what role on each planet. Despite that, they do occasionally mess up. Sometimes, planets even chat with each other. It gets a bit chaotic when that happens

[green-eyedfirework]

Dick’s entire body went cold when he saw the party being dragged through the doors.

Hushed mutters erupted in throne room, the petitioner who’d been talking about a failed harvest broke off mid-sentence, and Killian straightened in his seat, expression sliding into cold scrutiny at the interruption.

Dick’s heart was lodged into his throat with every bruised face pulled into the throne room and forced down to their knees.  No, echoed something deep in his head as he met Pru’s bloody, defeated, miserable gaze.

I’m sorry, her expression said, anguish and regret visible clear across the room, I’m so sorry.  Hans was forced down next to her, and Sage was shoved down as well, her yelp almost covering the thin, high cry from the bundle in her arms.

No.

No.

Boone, in contrast, swaggered in, a self-righteous expression on his face, his gaze barely flickering towards Dick before landing on Slade.  “What’s the meaning of this?” Slade drawled, casting a disinterested gaze over the bedraggled party.  Dick could see his gaze catch and narrow on Pru, but it jumped back to Boone.  “I don’t appreciate interruptions, and crimes should be reported to the Captain of the Guard.  Is there a reason you saw fit to waste my time?”

Boone puffed up, bowing low and deep, “Damian al Ghul, my lord.”

Dick felt like a statue, rooted to the spot, as fierce whispers immediately erupted, faces craning towards him.  He couldn’t even turn his head to see the expression on Slade’s face.

“Excuse me?” Slade’s voice was bemused.

Boone stepped back, towards Rhiannon, and tried to grab the bundle in her arms.  Rhiannon refused to let go, even on her knees with a guard’s spear at her back, and Boone snarled and raised a gloved fist.

There was a shocked gasp from the onlookers as Rhiannon fell back against Hans, but the punch loosened her grip and Boone yanked the bundle from her grasp, ripping away the blankets to reveal the baby.

“Damian,” he said superciliously, holding the baby out. “Ra’s al Ghul’s son and heir.”

The smart thing to do was to pretend like Dick had no clue what was going on.  To widen his eyes in stunned surprise, same as everyone who was staring at him.  To deny, to disavow, to ignore anything Boone said in the hopes of keeping Slade’s favor and sparing the guards, the nurse, and the baby.

The baby could be anyone, and after—after the last couple of months, after Slade’s solicitousness, the rooftop chats, the spars, there was a hope that Slade would listen to him first.  That Dick could lie and act well enough to fool the alpha.

But Dick was halfway across the room by the time Boone lifted the baby, thoughts washed away in instinctive panic, and it took only a few seconds more to grab Damian.  Boone made a surprised sound at seeing Dick so close, letting go easily, and Dick had his baby in his arms for only the second time in his life.

Dick cradled him close, unable to stop himself from pressing his nose to smell the milky-pup scent, his vision growing blurry as his chest twisted.  His son.  His baby.  Alive and here and in his arms, curling a seeking hand into his collar as he blinked wide green eyes at him.

“Damian,” Dick whispered, stroking a finger through the baby’s dark, soft hair.

Damian didn’t cry, he merely made a soft, questing noise, looking up with big eyes like he was wondering who Dick was, but Dick brushed his wrist across Damian’s neck, and the pup scrunched up his nose, recognizing Dick’s scent, lips twitching up with a happy gurgle.

The sound shot something straight through Dick’s heart, almost a physical spike, and Dick just wanted to stay in the moment, his son smiling in his arms, happy and warm and alive.

The room was dead silent.

Dick dragged his gaze up, dread sinking like a stone, and met Slade’s icy eye.

The alpha’s expression was blank.  Carefully, terrifyingly blank.

A hundred apologies shifted through Dick’s head, a hundred excuses, pleas, bargains, anything to keep Damian safe, but his voice was stuck in his throat as he stared at his mate.  As he beheld the visible destruction of the trust he’d managed to build over the last two months.  Because all of it was based on the foundation of a lie.

Dick was going to die.

“So,” Slade said, voice level, “Damian al Ghul.”

His baby was going to die.

“Please,” Dick whispered hoarsely, but it was too soft, and Slade straightened up out of his throne, expression dark.  The people closest to him flinched out of his way—Slade’s movements were rigidly controlled and still they bled fury.

The last time Dick had seen an alpha so angry, Ra’s had whipped him near to death for tricking him.

But that was different.  Dick had known that Ra’s would be furious, and had known that the ruse wouldn’t last.  This time—this time, Slade was never supposed to find out.

“He looks quite well for a stillborn pup,” Slade said flatly, and Dick flinched.  “It was a clever ruse—more than enough blood to sell your act, especially with you pretending to mope about the castle.”

He wasn’t—he hadn’t been pretending—he had let go of his pup with the expectation of never seeing him again, the grief had been real—

But Slade didn’t care.  Slade only cared that Dick had lied, and his baby was going to pay the price.

“Not expecting him to be found so quickly?” Slade raised an eyebrow, like Dick had wanted Damian found at all, they were supposed to go to Gotham, they were supposed to leave Nanda Parbat.  “Definitely wanted to wait till he was older, fourteen or sixteen or eighteen, the al Ghul heir, a rallying point for a rebellion.”

“No,” Dick breathed out, because he had never—he just wanted Damian to live.  “No, my lord, I didn’t—”

“You didn’t what?  Consider that this was the perfect way to reclaim your country?”

But Nanda Parbat had never been Dick’s country, he didn’t give a flying fuck who sat on the throne.  He’d done what he had to for the child growing inside of him, he’d just needed time to get Damian to safety and now—and now, everything was ruined.

“No,” Dick repeated, tiny fingers brushing against his neck. “No, alpha—he was supposed to go to Gotham, not to stay—”

“Gotham?” Slade halted, halfway to Dick, and raised an eyebrow.

“To my family,” Dick said, quiet, frantic, clutching at any straw he could find.  “He would’ve—my father would’ve adopted him, he wouldn’t have been raised an al Ghul.”

Slade’s expression was a touch less murderous, and Dick had no recourse left but to throw himself at Slade’s mercy.  Dick took a stuttering step forward and folded to his knees, carefully supporting Damian’s head as he shifted position.

“Please, my lord,” Dick looked up at Slade, voice cracking. “Please, I beg you, he’s just a pup, please.”

Slade’s countenance was not encouraging.

“Please,” Dick continued, wavering, “Bruce will raise him as his own, he’ll never come back to Nanda Parbat, alpha, please—”

“Give the heir of Ra’s al Ghul,” Slade said quietly, “to the lord of Gotham.”  The ‘do you think I’m stupid’ couldn’t be any louder if he shouted it.

Dick clutched Damian tighter, closer, trying desperately to keep his scent steady, trying not to frighten his baby.

“Not—not Bruce, then, but you can send him away,” Dick was grasping frantically at straws. “Somewhere far from here.  Or—or give him to someone and don’t tell them—no one has to know—he doesn’t have to be the son of Ra’s al Ghul, please.”

He’s my son, Dick wanted to scream as restless movements brushed against his arms, mine.

“I know whose son he is,” Slade said coldly. “You know whose son he is.  Everyone in this room knows whose son he is.”  The throne room was silent and still.  “It doesn’t matter how far I send him or where I hide him, it won’t stay a secret forever.”

It felt like an ice dagger into his heart.  He was trembling, and the pup was starting to fuss.  “Please,” Dick said hollowly, casting a glance around the room.  Pru looked desperate, bloodied and bruised with a spear to her throat, and some people in the crowd looked sympathetic or upset, but the vast majority were angry or neutral.  None wore resolve.  Even Rose and Joey were staring at him with hard, cold expressions behind their father’s back.

None of them would help him.

Dick swung his gaze back to Slade.  “Please,” he begged.  Slade stared back, impassive.

Damian, sensing his distress, began to cry, a thin, whimpering sound.  It was too loud in the tense silence, and Dick shifted his attention, curling around his pup like he could hide him from everyone in the room, everyone who would see the child dead.

Gently rocking the baby didn’t help, Damian kept crying, and Dick couldn’t suppress his scent, couldn’t hide the misery-hurt-please-no, couldn’t stop the tears dripping down his cheeks and splattering on his son’s face.  He began singing, cracking and hoarse, his mother’s lullaby, the last thing he’d sung to his son before he sent him away, still bleeding on the birthing bed.

“Talaj phruna, ande kuna, o bakrja brej, o čhavo rovel, pe dajake ov phučel~”

Damian was going to die.  If Dick was lucky, he would die with him.  If Dick wasn’t—he already had a year’s worth of experience in how wretched a vindictive alpha could make his life, and Slade was smarter and stronger than Ra’s had been.

Ra’s had never expected honesty from them.  He’d been furious, yes, but not betrayed.  Not the personal edge there was in Slade’s fury.

“Buzni nakel čuči del les, balval phurdel sovljarel les, Devla, Devla o čhavo barvalo~”

Dick kept singing, swallowing down the hiccups, bent over Damian and shuddering through silent sobs.  It didn’t ease Damian’s distress, not fully, not when Dick’s desolation was choking him, but at least he’d stopped crying, waving a tiny little hand at Dick as if he was confused as to why his mother was upset and wanted him to stop.

“Bakrja nakhen čuči den les, bryšind del najarel les~”

Booted footsteps came closer, audible through the hoarse, broken lullaby, and the scent of rage cut through his terror.  Dick held on tighter—not his son, not Damian, please, if the gods had any mercy, Dick would take any torture, any torment, just please not his baby.

“Ah mo čhavo o barvalo—”

Slade crouched, and before Dick could twist away, a heavy hand landed on the back of his neck and squeezed.

The world spun around him, his limbs growing weak, and he could do nothing but feel waves of increasing alarm as his pup was tugged out of his arms.  Dick managed to fall forward and clutch Slade’s leg, but couldn’t raise his hand high enough to catch Slade’s arm before he straightened, Damian in his grasp.

No, Dick wanted to scream.  Wanted to cry.  Wanted to beg and plead and sob until someone, anyone relented, but Slade wasn’t going to stop.

Dick was going to watch his baby die, no matter what he did.

“Talaj phruna, ande kuna, si man čhavo Devlester, o Devel les mange bičaldja~”

He didn’t stop singing, voice growing higher and choked as his throat swelled up, as he kept his blurry gaze on the bundle in Slade’s arms.  Tears spilled down his cheeks as he forced out the lullaby because Damian was going to die, and the last gift Dick could give his pup was knowing in his final breaths that his mother loved him more than anything else in the world.

“Bakre nakhen čuči den les, balval phurdel sovljarel les, Devla, Devla—”

Slade bared his teeth, and Dick’s voice cracked down the middle, hoarse and wet.

No!

Dick’s weak grip on Slade’s leg faltered, and he nearly crumpled to the floor.

“—mo čhavo barvalo.”

He kept singing.  He was—he didn’t know who the words were for, not anymore, not when—his pup—not when there was an empty hole inside his heart, but—but he had to—

“Bryšind del najarel les, ah mo čhavo o barvalo, ah mo čhavo o barvalo~”

Slade crouched down again and Dick didn’t—didn’t understand.  The alpha held out the tiny bundle in his arms, and Dick went cold all over—he wasn’t—he wasn’t going to—he wasn’t going to shove his dead pup back into his arms—

Damian was warm.

Dick blinked down at him.  At the waving fingers.  At the tiny, distressed noises, face scrunched up, head twisting away—there was a patch of redness on his shoulder.  Like a bite.  Like a claiming bite.

Dick didn’t realize how shatteringly silent the room had become until he stopped singing.

Damian’s fussing cries were suddenly echoingly loud as Dick curled around his baby, his miraculously alive baby, pressing him close and shaking through sobs too violent to suppress.

“Get the prisoners to the cells, I’ll deal with them in the morning,” Slade snapped, loud and angry and right above him.  Pru, Rhiannon, Hans, his friends, they had tried so hard to keep Damian safe—

But Dick couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t see who that loud, protesting sound belonged to, didn’t dare meet Slade’s gaze.

“And clear the room,” the alpha growled.

Dick began singing the lullaby again as Damian cried, ignoring the whispers around him, the footsteps, the dying murmurs as the room emptied out.  Slade could still kill him.  Slade could still kill them both.  Claiming Damian wasn’t a shield or a pardon.

But low waves of submission coiled around his limbs, and Damian was in his arms—not safe, but he wasn’t safe anywhere, and at least Dick could hold him and hear him crying and feel tiny fingers curl around his, soft and strong.  Dick could brush that little hand across the side of his neck, could transfer Damian’s scent to him as Dick carefully scented his pup, so that even if Slade came back and ripped Damian away again, Dick could still smell him for a little while longer.

Damian eventually quieted down, still displeased but tired out, and Dick watched him scrunch his face up in sleep.  By the time Dick remembered that he was still kneeling in the middle of the throne room, the whole place was…empty.

Dick twisted in a full circle.  No one.  Not even Slade.  Had they really just…left him here?

Dick carefully braced Damian’s head as he shakily rose to his feet, but before he could step forward, the doors opened, and a maid stuck her head in.

“Your highness?” she almost whispered, her voice soft but carrying. “The cradle has been moved to your rooms.”  Dick stared blankly at her.  “Is there anything else the pup requires?” she asked.

Dick blinked.  “N—no,” he cleared his throat when she looked like she might step inside, confusion turning everything a bit foggy.  Dick hadn’t asked for a cradle in his rooms, but—the entire court had watched Slade claim Damian.

The alpha could still kill Damian, and no one would dare stop him, but many of them would talk.  Pack-slaying was frowned on, enemy heir or not, and—and that meant that Damian was somewhat safe.

Dick didn’t know what the price of this unexpected generosity was, and he had no doubt that Slade was still angry, but for now, his baby was alive and in his arms and nothing else mattered.

~#~

The sensible thing would’ve been to stay in his rooms, stay out of Slade’s way, and not tempt his alpha’s rage.  At the very least not take the visible reminder of Dick’s betrayal and thrust it under his nose.

But a sleepless night watching his baby in the cradle had left enough time to go over what had happened in the throne room, again and again and again, and—

“I’ll deal with them in the morning.”

—Dick couldn’t abandon his friends.

They had failed to get Damian out of Nanda Parbat, failed to keep him safe, but they had tried, and they were going to get punished for it, and Dick didn’t know how to implore Slade when there was a blade hovering over his own neck, but he couldn’t let them killed for listening to him.

Everyone in the throne room stared when Dick entered, a quiet and still-sleepy Damian in his arms—he wasn’t letting the pup out of his sight for a moment—but no one moved to stop him as he walked up to the dais, and on top of it, taking his usual place next to the throne.

Slade, standing in front of the dais and watching the doors, ignored him completely.

The prisoners were led in by the guards—Pru, her tense expression relaxing slightly when she saw Dick and Damian, Rhiannon, clearly terrified, Hans, mostly upset and trying to hide it, and…Boone?  Who was scowling and mulish.

They were marched up and forced down to their knees in front of Slade, and Dick swallowed, the soft weight of Damian in his arms an ever-present threat.

“The story, as I’ve heard it,” Slade began, voice quiet, “The four of you were in a cabin near the mountains with Damian al Ghul, for two months, trying to find a way through the mountain passes.  One of you alerted the guards to your royal charge.  That the pup is Ra’s al Ghul’s son is not in question—” several people in the throne room pivoted to stare at Dick.  “But I will allow each of you to tell your side of the story.”

He walked in front of them, and stopped in front of Pru.  “Stand.”  Pru rose steadily to her feet, and met Slade’s gaze with a determined glare.  “Do you have anything to say in your defense, Captain Wood?”

“I’m not sorry,” Pru stated flatly.  Dick winced as murmurs broke out around the room, but Slade was silent.  “What you heard is right.  I kept watch over Damian al Ghul for two months, trying to find a way to Gotham, because I was asked to, and because I wouldn’t stand by and watch you murder a child for who their father was.  And I would’ve continued to protect Damian al Ghul, had someone not turned out to be a double-dealing, money-hungry snake.”

Boone snarled, surging up, but Slade just held up a hand.  “Everyone gets their turn to speak,” he said calmly, and stepped away, towards Rhiannon.

The wet nurse was shivering as she shakily rose to her feet, flinching back from Slade.  Slade stayed silent for the several seconds it took Rhiannon to dredge up the courage to speak.  “I—his highness asked me to—to watch over the pup,” Rhiannon whispered to the floor, “And I—I agreed—the pup n—needed a wet nurse and—and his highness said h—he wouldn’t be s—safe here.”

She clammed up immediately after, head still bowed, and Slade stepped towards the next member of the group.

Hans rose to his feet, steadier than Rhiannon, but still quite clearly scared of Slade.  “I—I beg your forgiveness, my lord,” he said quietly, not looking up, “But I could not—they said the pup would be in danger here, and I could not let that happen.”

Damian woke up and started fussing at Dick’s collar, even though Dick had fed him before they arrived.  Dick distracted Damian with the tassel of his shirt, and turned back to watch Slade step in front of Boone.

“My lord, I must deeply apologize for my part in this,” Boone said obsequiously, “I did not feel it was the right thing to do, but I unfortunately succumbed to persuasion.”  Dick glared at him, slow-burning anger beginning to rise.  “When I realized the enormity of my error, I went to fix it immediately, and called the guards to take them all back to the castle and make sure that you were aware of this perfidy.”

“You mean, when you realized you could get a payday, you self-serving piece of shit,” Pru scoffed, and Dick couldn’t even shoot her a quelling glance.  He wanted to punch Boone in the face.  He’d trusted the man with his child, and the guard had just sold them all out.

“The lie,” Slade clarified. “Because his highness told me that he lost the child, and instead you smuggled the baby out.”  He paused. “Lying to your lord is treason.”

Slade walked back to Pru.  “Do you know what treason is punished by?” he asked levelly.

Pru set her jaw, “Death.”

Dick’s heart skipped a beat, and he stepped forward, speaking up for the first time and very conscious of Damian playing with his shirt collar, “My lord, I—”

Slade held up a hand without turning back, but it was Pru’s quick jerk of the head that made him stop.  Her expression very clearly emoted that she was going to punch him if he continued arguing, and Dick swallowed, his eyes prickling.

“Death,” Slade echoed. “And you’re not concerned?”

Pru narrowed her eyes, “I did it for Dick, and I would do it again if I had the choice.”

Slade inclined his head, and stepped back.  “Remove her chains,” he told the guard behind her, “and return Captain Wood’s sword to her.”  He nodded at her. “You’ll be reinstated as the head of Consort Wilson’s personal guard.”

Pru gaped at him.  Dick stared blankly.  The shocked murmurs sounded like a buzzing bee hive.

“What.”

“Was some part of that unclear, Captain Wood?”

“You just said treason is punishable by death!” Pru almost shouted, and Dick wanted to shake her and tell her to shut up.  He didn’t know who was impersonating Slade or why, but if there was the slightest chance this wouldn’t end in execution, he would seize it.

“You aren’t loyal to me,” Slade said levelly. “But you are loyal to my mate, and that makes you the perfect choice to head his personal guard.”  Pru still looked half-outraged and half-confused, but Slade was already moving on.

“Remove her chains,” Slade said when he stopped in front of Rhiannon, expression cold. “The pup will need a nurse.”  And then on to Hans—“You will either be demoted or changed position.  A soldier should trust their commander.”

Hans just looked relieved to be alive, and the muttering grew fiercer when Slade stopped in front of Boone.  He stared at the man in silence for a long moment before speaking, voice soft, “Captain Wood was right.  Treason is punishable by death.”

Boone was not an idiot, and he paled as he stepped back from Slade.  “My lord—my lord, I came to confess—they—they’re the traitors!  I beg your forgiveness, my lord, it was only a momentary insanity, I swear I’m loyal—”

“You are not loyal to me,” Slade said quietly, “else you wouldn’t have agreed to smuggle the child out.”  Boone took another step back, and stumbled into the guard behind him.  “You are not loyal to my mate, else you wouldn’t have betrayed him.”  Boone was shaking his head now, trembling all over.  “You’re not even a decent man, else you wouldn’t have delivered a child into the hands of someone you believed wished them dead.”

“Please—please, my lord—”

“A man whose only loyalty is to coin is not a man I can trust,” Slade said, his tone final.  “Take him away.  He can hang tomorrow.”

Slade walked back and took his seat on the throne, still without giving Dick a single glance.

~#~

“Your highness?” Pru knocked on the door and poked her head in, her scowl one-part nervousness. “Lord Joseph and Lady Rose are here to see you.”

“Let them in,” Dick rasped, straightening off the bed and hovering protectively over the cradle.  Joey smiled when he entered, signing a greeting, but Rose made a beeline for the cradle without even saying hello.

Dick was torn between instincts that recognized them as pack, and shrieking alarms that registered them as danger, but before he could do anything, Rose started cooing.  “Aww, look at him,” she whispered at the sleeping pup. “His little face is so angry, it’s adorable.”  She reached out—Dick’s heart leapt into his throat—and gently swiped the inside of her wrist against Damian’s cheek.

Dick had to force down fear-terror-get-away-from-him before Damian smelled it and got upset.  Joey neared the cradle at a slower pace, signing, “We wanted to meet our little brother.”

Their little brother.  Because Slade claimed him.  Because Slade accepted Damian as pack, accepted Damian as his son, and Dick staggered back as the implications fully sunk in.

“Dick?” Rose asked, concerned, as Dick sat down on the bed, almost trembling.  Damian woke up with a cry.

Slade claimed the son of Ra’s al Ghul as his own.

“Dick?” Rose’s voice was closer this time, and Dick dragged his gaze up to see her worriedly hovering over him.  “Are you okay?  Do we need to get a healer?”  Behind her, Joey had picked Damian up and was gently rocking him to calm him down.

“No,” Dick exhaled shakily, “No, I’m fine.”  He rubbed at his itchy eyes. “I just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

Rose’s expression twisted at the reminder.  “I’m sorry,” she murmured, sitting next to him and rubbing her wrist against his shoulder.  The quiet, casual scenting calmed him further, and when Joey rounded the cradle and held Damian out to him, Dick took him gratefully.

He rocked Damian in his lap, Rose and Joey pressed close on either side of him, and for a startling moment, Dick almost felt…at peace.

He was surrounded by pack, he had his pup back, his friends were alive, he—he just didn’t know what the cost of this magnanimity would be.

But he knew he had to pay it back.

“We can watch him for you so you can get some sleep tonight!” Rose volunteered, and Joey nodded.

“I helped take care of Rose and she was a fussy baby,” he signed.  Dick made a warning motion before Rose could respond with the screech he could see on her face, and she resorted to angrily signing at her brother that she had been a perfectly well-behaved child, thank you very much.

“Rose,” Joey laughed, “you’re not even a well-behaved adult.”

Damian did wake up sulkily at Rose’s cut-off snarl, but Dick couldn’t help but laugh as the siblings sniped at each other.

Maybe he would take them up on their offer.

He had to repay Slade, and better sooner than later.  Lest he change his mind.

[mothiepixie]

First time dropping an ask here but:

As another follow up to the cross AU Poly relationship thing. Have you ever considered doing a hunger games style battle royal to see who would reign supreme as best partner.

(I doubt motti would ever want her partners hurt.) So this is more just a hypothetical thing.

To clarify: I mean that computer generated hunger games thing I see pop up every once in a while.

[sorry if this is long and or confusing.]

Okay so, some years back I had an idea for an AU I never shared where Motti would be the Empress of an empire, and a lot of the Sanses were her attendees, knights, advisors, etc.

And she needed an heir because she did not want her distant relatives to take the mantle and corrupt those under her ruling, but in order for the heir to be considered a legitimate successor, she had to marry.

Many of the skellies were either life long friends (working under her tho), infatuated nobles or Kings of neighboring kingdoms.

A rather large few of her closest confidants did not want her to marry one of the kings due to possible ill intentions or corruption, and so it would ensue many of the skellies trying to win her hand by deceit, rumors, or duels. Eventually Motti would get closer to them, taking some as her consorts.

But still one would have to be crowned her spouse.

Motti would have been made aware of all of this because as an Empress she knows what goes on in her home, so she'd purposely set up scenarios to test the skellies.

(ミ⚆³⚆ミ) sorry for the ramble

[zazter-den]

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

Comments and Reblogs carry me through the week!

[izvmimi]

cw: palace drama au. multiple wives. fem!reader. brief explicit sex, minors dni.

the emperor takes the throne at the ripe age of 20 years old.

this is a good age to rise to power, auspicious according to all celestial calendars, all manners of prophecy and predictions of the wise. he’s proven himself blessed with brain and brawn, enough to overshadow his reputation to be quick to anger. quick thinking accounts for a quick temper, they say, and bakugou katsuki is nothing if not brilliant and quick to decide and act.

the emperor's harem is decided for him, however, because he is too young to choose, say his advisors. either way, the new emperor cares very little about matters of the flesh - or at least this is what he hopes his subjects believe- and with a bare bones list of specifications, five concubines are selected at the time of his ascension, and of them, you are possibly the most nervous.

after all, the flame emperor seems to hate you at first glance.

the other palace ladies are graceful enough that you seem barely above the benchmark of decency, and you can tell he’s questioning how you were selected in the first round of consorts by his extended glance, to which you bow your head respectfully. he doesn’t seem to study the rest as intensely as he does you after all. you aim to let yourself fade into the background as the ceremony continues, burdened by your own internal ruler to which you can never measure up and the heaviness of your elegant robes. even if you know that you are beautiful, the emperor is duly blessed by heaven with chiseled features, a sharp regard and hair as bright as the sun. it is enough to be seen as a potential match for him even if among many.

imagine your surprise when you are first to attend his chambers.

skin warm, damp and fragrant from a bath of milk, honey and jasmine, your heart races as you are presented clothed in white silk to the man who is both your husband and your sovereign. you don't dare raise your eyes, brain still befuddled as to why you are first. first is an honor. first implies that you've charmed him. first means...

he calls your name.

you look up quickly from your knelt position, and have not realized he approached you in your tremulous thoughts, even if you would have believed earlier that the very ground trembled as he walked. he's before you now, sitting on the edge of the bed, in silk pants that leave very little left to the imagination. the apples of your cheek warm again; with his chest bare, you're reminded that the once prince was also a budding general, a few scant scars betraying all the skirmishes he's lived through. his face is still beautiful in the dim, flickering light of hundreds of lit candles.

he calls your name again, and you apologize.

"my emperor, please forgive me for my airheadedness."

he seems to merely roll his eyes at you but even the gesture seems somewhat kind.

"tell me where you're from."

you try to think of where to start first but he takes your hand and pulls your from where your knees sink into plush, ornate pillows.

"sit first."

beside him, he means.

your heart thumps again as you think of how the night will end. women older than you have told you many different things about your wedding night, how long it may last, if he'll bother to hold you, if it'll fit...

the emperor doesn't satisfy any of your expectations because that night is spent talking until the last candle burns out.

---

katsuki doesn't sleep with you that night, or the next night, or the night after that. the other concubines frequent his bedchambers and you wonder, but no one will lay and tell, whether it's a manner of propriety or simply to not reveal the emperor's favor. after all, titles have not been given yet, not one of you has a title above 'wife' or a new name bestowed on them out of affection. you try to determine favor out of a tell-tale crinkle of the eye as he looks upon the five of you at dinner, or if there is too much mirth in one of your sisters' smiles. there is nothing.

months pass.

katsuki's hand will idly find solace in yours as he uses the other to read through a scroll, he allows you to snuggle closer as you sleep when attending him, but still he never asks to bed you truly anymore than letting you actually inhabit his bed. you wonder if he doesn't actually like women, and you would not care either way, as long as he had some affection for you. when his fingers intertwine with yours for a moment, you hope he may pull it to his lips and kiss, and perhaps there will be... something to fill this yearning, and yet nothing. in fact seconds pass, and his fingers unlink with yours. he gives you a glance, and you look up at him, hoping the desire is not too obvious in your eyes.

the red stare is a little too intense tonight and for a moment, he cups your cheek gently. you know not to return the favor. he whispers something under his breath, and you whisper his name back. you hold each other's gazes, and something thick forms between the two of you, husband and wife.

and then air dissipates. you are emperor and concubine again. he bids you good rest, and turns to blow out the last candle, and the two of you slumber.

---

a year of reign has passed and your well of lust has somehow not run dry. instead it's been replaced with a different type of want - you think less about how how handsome he is or how broad his shoulders are, or how soft his skin may feel against yours, but rather his voice as it laughs at one of your jokes and the way he sneezes. the awkward way he holds his writing utensils rubs off of on you, and he asks you about your family then arrives to speak to them when they come to visit you. you're unable to see the way the remaining concubines look at you as you start to spend more nights curled up by his side, and once you see the sneer of the boldest concubine as you arrive to the harem's meeting chamber, you care less about that and more about the fact that katsuki has curled up into your chest and reminds you that it's the softest, sweetest place he knows.

the favor has creeped into your lap the same way you now creep into his as he briefs himself for the bureaucracy of the next morning. he asks you what you think, and presses his chin on your shoulder as you answer. you allow yourself to disagree, he allows himself to kiss you.

a year and a day passes and he whispers,

"i love you"

into the darkness.

you ask him when, and he tells you the day he met you.

you ask him why he waited for so long to let himself hold you like this as your leg wraps around his waist, and your naked, vulnerable bodies press together, your suckled-on breasts flush to his skin. you want to know why he only chooses now to hold you, after you've needed him for so long, why he only marks you with nibbles to your collarbone and neck that won't disappear even with your chambermaid's best makeup tricks now despite having claim to you the day he obtained the throne.

he kisses you, and as the taste of his lips and tongue linger on yours, he says,

"beauty that sinks ships, grace that scatters birds, charm that drives men mad... i couldn't give myself to you so soon."

your breath holds in your throat and he holds you tighter.

"i wanted to trust you with the rational part of me, the same way my foolish heart did."

you're connected now, his warmth and your warmth slotted together like pieces of a puzzle.

"you wanted to love me as a woman, not a duty," you say, voice softened as you take his length inside you. your arms reach for him as he flips so that he's above you. his forehead presses to yours as he nestles deep.

"i wanted to call you my empress when i really meant it."

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

June 6th

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1. your favourite top!lwj fics? thanks! <3

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2. Hi!!! For itmf I was wondering if anyone has seen fics where someone or wwx points out that lwj hasn’t shown that he likes wwx. Like he’s genuinely confused because lwj is mean.

Alternatively if you guys have anything similar to One Summer Evening by Radistears. Preferably where wwx doesn’t forgive lwj easily. I honestly want lwj to be sad :)

Thank you!!! @monojadi

Honesty is the Best Policy (Except if You're an Asshole) by piecrust (E, 22k, WangXian, Porn with Feelings, College/University) It's not a 1:1 match but might scratch the itch for #2. It features a lwj who needs to do serious groveling.

我的皇后是農民 | sowing seeds in the cold palace by sweetlolixo (E, 84k, WangXian, Imperial Palace, Emperor LWJ, Imperial Consort WWX, Farmer WWX, Angst, Romance, Wingman LJY, Wife-chasing-LWJ, Arranged Marriage, Best Boy A-Yuan)

the river and the sea by sasamelons (T, 7k, WangXian, Soulmates, Arranged Marriage, Misunderstandings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Falling In Love, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Mutual Pining)

When the Words Stop Coming by mrcformoso (T, 7k, WangXian, Canon Compliant, POV WWX, POV LWJ, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Canonical Character Death, Love Confessions, Rejection, LWJ is a Panicked Gay, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Trauma, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending)

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3. Hii so I don't even know if books like this exist but if they do please share. What I'm looking for is books where it's wwx sending his child or children to the cloud recesses lectures. It can be Sizhui or some other child/ren that he has but yeah it's just him sending the child to the sect lectures. @thatperson0-0

The Murder of Crows by cerbykerby (M, 101k, WangXian, Slow Burn, Pining, Yiling Wei Sect AU, Everybody Lives but also not really, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, WWX adopts kids and talks to birds for 13 years, expanded demonic cultivation skills, Angst, Fluff, Dark, but also Light, Eventual Romance, Humor, Family, Hijinks & Shenanigans, ridiculously powerful WWX, almost-enemies to almost-friends to almost-lovers then back to almost-enemies then finally to lovers, because we all know it's gonna take lives being threatened to make these two confess)

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4. Hi i have a request for intm. Do you guys have any recs for a jealous LWJ…specifically fics in which Lwj starts dating, distancing himself from wwx and wwx gets jealous but then wwx gets attention from others and Lwj gets jealous and chases wwx? Thank you!!

~*~

5. itmf your favorite fics featuring yiling siblings dynamics specially when they are being protective and ride or die; it's also lovely when they are just being soft and intimate with each other. wangxian is always a bonus <3 the only thing i detest is chengqing ship

💖🔒 love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, Arranged Marriage, political scheming, Gratuitous Domesticity, Mutual Pining, EXTREME SLOWBURN, the inherent eroticism of the forehead ribbon, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, neither wwx nor lwj want to be Perceived, but sorry kids! it’s gonna happen!, rated E but the the NSFW stuff doesn’t begin until chapter 19!, bottom LWJ in chapter 20 and 27)

Grave dirt by esama (T, 92k, wangxian, canon divergence, necromancy, demonic cultivation, farming, found family, pre-slash, politics, Fix-it of sorts, yilingwei sect au)

💖 do not envy the roots that hold you down by eccentrick for rianitida (T, 12k, WangXian, Reincarnation, WQ is a Lan, Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort)

With Surgical Precision by metisket (T, 20k, WQ & WN, WQ & WWX, WangXian, Time Travel, Families of Choice, sibling bonding through murder)

Meet you at a different place by tawaen (M, 57k, WQ & WN, WN & MXY & WQ, WQ & WWX & WN, Eventual WangXian, Ghost General WN, Ghost WQ, Canon Divergence, WQ comes back to haunt the cultivation world, Bad idea to kill the one person who didn't kill anyone, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Wen Remnants Deserve Better, Sīsī Deserves Better, MXY Deserves Better, POV WQ)

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6. any fics were wen qing ends up marrying one of the nie brothers? especially if it's huaisang? i read a fic where he asks permission to wei wuxian to court her (in which he awnsers that it's her choice, and if she wants itnhe will support her)

The Hand is a Voice (that can sing what the voice will not) by captain_apostrophe (E, 124k, WQ/NMJ, NHS & NMJ, WQ & WN, NHS & WN, Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Non-Canon Relationship, WQ Lives, and is awesome, it's not Beauty & The Beast okay, NHS Being A Little Shit, Marriage of Convenience, arguing as a love language, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Minor Original Character(s), Everybody Lives, Slow Burn, only a little bit of smut, Childbirth)

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7. any fics were wei wuxian is a good politician? or a community or sect leader, but without the resources, contacts and support from the other sects, but with the civilians

🔒 a star called sun by thelastdboy (E, 120k, wangxian, SL/XXC, JC & JYL & WWX, JYL & LWJ, WWX & WN & WQ, JYL/JZX, Canon Divergence after Xuanwu Cave, Fall of Lotus Pier, But worse!, Power Imbalance, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Not Everyone Dies AU, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, Sunshot Campaign, Miscommunication, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Major Character Injury, Loss of Limbs, Chronic Illness, Seizures, WWX’s Three Months in the Burial Mounds, Wēn Remnants Live, Wēn Remnants Deserve Better, WWX Creates a Sect | Yílíng Wèi Sect, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note, Hurt/Comfort, Selectively Mute LWJ, Service Animals, Crows)

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8. itmf fics that have some sort of court and legal drama, like in kizukatana's the truth will out (when caught in video); it can be either modern or canon setting, but in a wwx vs the sects kinda of deal with some real consequences for the antagonists besides just proving wei wuxian innocent or letting him live when he proves himself useful

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9. im interested in fics with in depth and interesting characterizations for wen ruohan, wen xu and wen zhuliu, with them interacting with wwx if possible <3 thank you

Loneliness Knows My Name by Jaywalker_Holmes, Treef (T, 208k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Eventual Happy Ending, Unreliable Narrator, Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It of Sorts, mutual idiots) although it only features Wen Ruohan with Wei Wuxian.

Sunset, Sunrise by Ariana Deralte (ArianaDeralte) (T, 41k, WWX & WRH, WangXian, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, Crack, Temporary Character Death, sorry I killed a-Yuan for a few paragraphs before the time travel, WWX is a Wen, Genius WWX, WRH gets to rewatch the series as a treat, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, in this house we acknowledge that all the sects have flaws, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, WWX Has ADHD, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Autistic LWJ) WWX, WRH, WN and WQ return to the past and WRH decides to adopt WWX to repay him for taking care of the remnants.

I'm sorry, Good bye by NHaraki (M, 35k, WWX/WRH, WIP, Jiang Family Bashing, Time Travel Fix-It, YZY Bashing) It's in Indonesian, it focuses on WWX, WRH, WC, WX. Zhulio is there too, but I think he hasn't been focused on yet. CW: Attempted suicide though. I translated it via Google Chrome and that was passable

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10. itmf the most unique time travel fics.

preferable, but not necessary: wwx focusing on himself instead shrugging his trauma and grief off, does have wwx keep using his gui dao, cultivation sect critical, not jiang sect nor jiang vheng friendly

Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending) Not sure about cultivation world critical, but has everything else you asked for, & definitely unique

we’re starting at the end by Miss_Enthusiasimal (M, 92k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Golden Core Reveal, Burial Mounds, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Starvation, emaciation, Cannibalism, Self-Harm, Amputation, Suicidal Thoughts, Sunshot Campaign, let JZX and WWX be friends club)

A Life Without Regrets by naqaashi (M, 74k, wangxian, JFM & WWX, JC & WWX, WRH & WWX, LXC & LWJ, LQR & LWJ, LWJ & NHS, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, musical cultivation, Slow Burn, Pining, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Murder Husbands, PTSD, BAMF WWX, Demonic Cultivation, POV WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics, Worldbuilding, No Yīn Iron, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Artist WWX, Musician WWX, Night Hunts, Fate & Destiny, Bad Parent JFM & YZY, Golden Core, Cultivation Theory, Sentient Burial Mounds, Father-Son Relationship, Dysfunctional Family, Grief/Mourning, Parent-Child Relationship, Angry WWX, Pining WWX, WWX is Not Okay, No Golden Core Transfer, BAMF LWJ, Pining LWJ, POV LWJ, Angry LWJ, One-Braincell Wangxian, Love Confessions, Idiots in Love, WIP)

❤️ I Started From the Bottom/And Now I’m Rich by x_los (E, 57k, WangXian, WWX/Others, Mutual Pining, Marriage of Convenience, Arranged Marriage, No Sunshot Campaign, Fix-It, WQ Lives, Transmigration, Time Travel, Weddings, Sugar Daddy, Sugar Daddy, Black Widow, Protective Siblings, Dysfunctional Family, Family Bonding, Sugar Baby, consort, Politics, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Crack Treated Seriously)

Lay my body down by tawaen (M, 48k, WWX & WQ, WWX & WN, wangxian, WWX & JYL, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Eventual WangXian, No Golden Core Transfer, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, What if WWX saw the first siege of the burial mounds and said Nope to the war, OCs, OC point-of-view for one chapter for plot reasons)

The Darkness Before Dawn by PsycheStellata707 (M, 113k, wangxian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, BAMF WWX, Attempt at Humor, PTSD, Oblivious WWX, WWX-centric, Blind WWX, Sentient Burial Mounds, Everyone Lives AU, Except Those Who Deserves to Die, Oblivious Pining, Not Canon Compliant, WIP)

We'll Build A Dynasty (one the heavens can't shake) by One_eyed_God (T, 66k, WangXian, WWX & WQ, WWX & WN, WWX & JYL, canon typical Jiang family dynamics, BAMF WWX, Canon JC Characteristics, POV Outsider, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, WWX is a Wen, Sect Leader WWX, Genius WWX, The Casual Intimacy of Hand-Holding, A Love Letter to WWX, Not JC Friendly, Time Travel Fix-It)

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11. itmf a/b/o modern au fluff fics like “insert coin now for extra fife” by TriviasFolly? thank you!!

Train Rides Change Everything by Seriana (E, 385k, WangXian, NHS/WX, JC/NMJ, JYL/LXC, WIP, A/B/O, Alpha/Omega, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics, Mpreg, Abusive Jiang Family, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Slut Shaming,bFluff and Angst, Unplanned Pregnancy, Feelings,bAbusive YZY, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Beta JC, Omega JYL, Modern, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Beta NHS, WC Being an Asshole, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Misunderstandings, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Scenting, Scent Marking, Scents & Smells, Slow Burn, Forced Marriage, First Time, Forced Bitching, Alpha WX, Minor Character Death, Murder, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kidnapping, drug overdose, Sexual Tension, Omega JC) It's a long one with pretty much everything - romance, comedy, drama, murder, mystery, smut, conspiracies, hurt/comfort...

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12. An ITMF request, but a specific one: has anyone done a fusion/riff on the old movie "Three Men and a Baby"? (I know there are a lot of "accidental baby acquisition" stories but I specifically mean an AU of 3MaaB)

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13. Any fics where Lan Zhan or Wei Ying turn into like an animal and then the other takes care of them, not knowing who it is (they know eachother normally, they just dont realize they are the animal)? Bonus points if before the animal thing, Lan Zhan is still acting cold to Wei Ying

🔒💖 blue-ribbon bunny by cicer (G, 15k, wangxian, modern, shapeshifting, supernatural elements, fluff & humor)

in the arms of the angel by ScarlettStorm (E, 37k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Fox WWX, animal rescuer LWJ, Minor pining, major shenanigans, Comedy, Smut, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Adhd WWX, the mortifying ordeal of getting your head stuck in a peanut butter jar, and getting subsequently rescued by your crush, there were in fact two beds, but LWJ knows what he's about, Blowjobs,bFrottages, witch rights, Scent Kink, Like a lot of scent kink, mildly telepathic sex, courtship via kittens)

🔒 and in the spring i shed my skin by wvlfqveen (T, 11k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Professors, Shapeshifter LWJ, Not Quite Necromancer WWX, Mutual Pining, WWX being an oblivious idiot, Fluff, Love Confessions, yunmeng trio, Family Feels,bget JC therapy 2020, Kissing, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian)

love & longing, rabbit edition. by jaws_3 (G, 18k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Animal Transformation, Mutual Pining, Fluff, two dumbass teenagers in love, First Kiss, Getting Together, Rabbit LWJ, Spanish Translation Available)

Kitty-cat by canis_lupus (E, 98k, WangXian, WIP, Cat WWX, Modern with Magic, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, dom LWJ, Sub WWX, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Jiang Family Dynamics, Abusive Jiang Family, POV Multiple, WWX Has ADHD, Autistic LWJ, Masturbation) is a great one, it's not finished but gets updated fairly often 🙂

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14. heyo this is for itmf! are there any fics which go like handler/ serial killer? basically anything w wangxian being badass and/or killing people

no wips pls! they give me anxiety TT @bunnycoffeeumcat

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15. Hello, for the next ITMF, I would like to ask for fics where when no one was there with wei ying, lan zhan was. Not burial mounds wen settlement days, but uk...

Wanna read about Wei Ying going through the darkest lowest time of his life and lan zhan is there with him.....

🔒🧡 rain falls and soaks into the earth series by RoseThorne (T, 57k, WangXian, WIP, Near Death Experience, Attempt Drowning, Madam Yu Bashing, Recovery, No war AU)

🧡 Company by WithBroomBefore (T, 29k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Pre-Relationship, Getting Together, POV LWJ, Fix-It, Pre-Canon, at least to start, WWX goes to Cloud Recesses, But Not In The Usual Way, fear of character death, Everybody Lives, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Light Angst, good teacher LQR, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, brief discussion of past minor character suicide, Kitten, Not YZY Friendly)

golden when the day met the night by glitteringmoonlight (Not Rated, 95k, WangXian, WIP, Slow-ish burn, Sugar Daddy LWJ, which is an anachronistic term for this fic but it fits, Light Angst, Fluff, Developing Relationship, WWX gets all the appreciation he deserves, even if he's a bit confused about it at first, warprize au with a twist, in that everyone thinks WWX is a warprize, but LWJ has only platonic and honourable intentions, at first, Eventual Smut)

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16. hello, itmf fics where dragonji hoards wwx as his treasure (like "These Mortal Treasures" by ChilianXianzi). thx!

💖 Hoards and treasures by apathyinreverie (T, 21k, WangXian, Siblings, Family, not particularly Jiang friendly, YZY Bashing, slightly darker Gusu Lans, LXC being the best brother, Some manipulation, But with the best of intentions, and not between wangxian, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Smitten LWJ, Fluff, perfect happiness, adorable WWX, Romance, Some worldbuilding, courting)

A Baby Dragon’s Guide To Seducing Your Huli Jing by sweetlolixo (M, 102k, wangxian, Fantasy, But still in the Cultivation World, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Younger LWJ, Older WWX, Fluff, Humor, Eventual mpreg, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Boy A-Yuan)

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17. I am in the mood for wangxian fics that are like...the opposite of pining while fucking. I want something where the romantic realization/confessions happen fast or early in the story, but for whatever reason, the physical side of their relationship is the slow burn part. Like, that could be because it's long-distance, or strict chaperoning during a betrothal, or anything really that keeps them from being able to indulge in the more physical part of their relationship. Just want to see these two burn for each other for a long time before the pay off. Thank you!

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If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[moistmailman]

Elden Ring AU

Tarnished Pyrrha, holding the Dark Sun Greatsword: Wow, this sword in honestly beautiful. Is that gold engraving on it?

Jeanne the Witch: Yes. It’s a family heirloom passed down from generations. It even has my sigil on it, the dark sun.

Tarnished Pyrrha: Wow, I’m honored. I can’t believe you would give something like this to such a lowly tarnished like me.

Jeanne the Witch: Of course I would. That’s the whole point of the sword after all, my dear consort. *vanishes*

Tarnished Pyrrha: What’s that supposed to mean?

*5 seconds passes*

Tarnished Pyrrha, blushing: WAIT CONSORT?!

*LATER IN THE ROUND TABLE HOLD*

Yang: Hey, cool sword. Where you get it from?

Tarnished Pyrrha: My wife.

Yang: What?! You’re married?! For how long?

Tarnished Pyrrha: For like…3 hours.

[xueyuverse]

Au HuaLian

In which Xie Lian becomes king of Xianle and makes Hua Cheng, the man who has been his lover since adolescence without anyone finding out, his king consort. When Xie Lian ascends to the heavens as Martial God, he brings Hua Cheng with him as his General.