#lavish liege

[katyawriteswhump]

the freak in the penthouse, pt 4.2

E-rated (for sexual content), accidental millionaire eddie/sex-worker steve.

On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse

On AO3

4.2 Playing hardball

Steve kneeled beneath the piano, contorting himself awkwardly to avoid the pedals. He was giving the blowjob of his life, which crazily, he was enjoying.

After his candy-ass panic nearly triggered an asthma attack in the plunge pool, he’d felt pretty shaken. On top of that, his ‘saving’ the situation through riding Eddie cowgirl was gonna make sitting down a world of ouch tomorrow. Once he’d escaped the pool, however, he’d managed to dash to the other restroom, take a puff of his inhaler, and… Bam! He came out swinging. 

Unfortunately, Eddie had then turned all jittery and Steve’s dumbass piano recital had been a bogus move.

Eddie seemed happier now, however.

He moaned, fists clamping rigid in Steve’s hair, while Steve pulled out all his neatest tricks. He pawed at Eddie’s balls, massaging and kneading, digging how they drew up, hard as pebbles. At the same time, he lavished his top-trump skill on Eddie’s cockhead. His lips slid wetly on and off the engorged plum, while his tongue swirled and dabbed at Eddie’s slit. He really hoped he was doing too much of an awesome job for Eddie to try and deep throat him.

His hopes paid off.

“Christ… Stevie… You’re fucking slaying me… Yes… there. Aaaaaagh, fuck, fuck, FUUUUUUCK!”

Eddie came hard, hot liquid coating the back of Steve’s throat, giving him little choice but to swallow. Meanwhile, Eddie jerked back, spurting the remnants of his load across Steve’s face:

“Shit… sorry, I was… Oh man, you’re sweet.” Eddie slumped forward, arms thumping the keyboard with a loud, dissonant plink. “You okay?” he panted.

“Mmmm.” Steve licked Eddie’s salty taste from his lips, dragging his arm across his disaster-zone face. He usually loathed this, struggling to conceal his revulsion. It made a helluva lot of difference when he actually fancied the guy who’d mini-bukakid him. He crawled out from under the piano, nearly braining himself. Eddie, looking kinda sheepish, offered him a glass of champagne.

“To wash away, the… erm…”

“Come? I love a cocktail."

“Pun intended?”

“Um, no?” Steve took the flute—internally cringing at his latest lousy line—chugged it back. He knew he should go drink some water. He said, instead: “Gonna be brutally honest. I prefer beer.”

“Christ, me too. I’d murder for a six-pack of Bud.”

After that, they showered together, got wasted on iced beer, then watched a Van Damme movie on cable from Eddie’s enormous bed. Steve lay belly-down across Eddie’s lap, while Eddie fiddled with Steve’s ass.

As Jean-Claude was high-kicking some punk out of existence, Eddie dealt his own killer blow: “Stevie, I want you to stay.”

“You paid for the night, man. I’m not about to split.”

Eddie switched off the TV with his remote. “Not that. How much dough d’ya want for a week? A month? To stay all the time. What do you say?”

“Woah! You really hate your money, don’t you?”

Steve rolled off Eddie’s lap, rested his chin on his fist, and stared. Was Eddie on the level? He was blatantly buzzed. A hot mess, basically. Steve was pretty fuzzy headed, too, after mixing the beer and champagne.

“I can’t ditch my day-job. Playing yo-yo in elevators is still better than”—having sex with the regular breed of a-hole John— “other crap. But listen, as long as I get some sleep and my cash, I’ll come back tomorrow. And the day after that. Aaaaand the day after that, if you’re not sick of my ass.”

A smirk flirted across Eddie’s lush lips, only to be replaced by total sincerity. “I’d like that, Stevie. I’d really like that. And as much as I’d love to fuck you all night every night, sleeping beauty, I ain’t got that kinda stamina. While you’re here, you can nap as much as you like. So…. any other rules? Expectations of your liege lord? Any more buck for your bang?”

“Say what?” This is where I play hardball. Negotiate a higher fee. “Nope,” said Steve, smiling up into Eddie’s big chocolate and slightly bloodshot eyes.

“Okay, I got one new rule,” said Eddie, crossing his arms tight around himself. “No games of poke the grizzly.”

“You lost me again. Is it some loopy sex-game?”

“Nope. You don’t ask me diddly-squat about my past. I won’t ask you.”

Cool. I don’t even have to feel guilty about keeping quiet about… stuff. “You got it, Eddie-cakes.”

Steve came back the next day and so it began.

They usually had sex. Some nights, they just chilled, ordered everything and anything on room service, plus take-outs from all over town, and stuffed their faces. 

Eddie proved a heavy sleeper, which was fortunate for Steve, who often woke himself up coughing. It got easier to control now he’d picked up his prevention meds, but Eddie’s smoking offset that a bit. Not that Steve was gonna say anything, which was kinda dumb, he knew, but… he really didn’t want to.

He’d muscle through.

By the end of a fortnight, it was all routine. When Steve’s alarm went off at 6am, Eddie would groan, lift his arm for Steve to roll away, then snore on. And Steve would often say a silent prayer of thanks to Eddie that he still had an alarm to swiftly silence. That digital watch was the last thing his father gave him. He’d been about to pawn it yet again before Eddie showed up.

On the fifteenth morning, all this usual shit happened. Steve flung on his uniform and slipped out of the suite. He was tucking his shirt in his pants when he reached the service elevator.

“What are you skulking around up here for, Harrington?”

Steve cringed, turning on his toes to confront that total creep, Kline. He needed an excuse, any excuse. Wearily drawing a blank, he was forced to drag out the one thing he’d got in his pocket. His inhaler.

“I was looking for this. Figured I dropped it when I was up here, delivering room service. Seems I was right.”

“Nothing about you is right, son. You’re a gutter-trash, good-for-nothing, snivelling runt.” Kline looked at his own watch, tapped it. “You better hurry up, or you’ll be late for your shift.” His eyes narrowed to slits. “Unless you’re already on shift?”

Steve longed to cave the asshat’s teeth in, break his nose, then scream in his ‘snivelling runt’ face. Instead, he muttered, “Don’t start for two minutes,” and dived past Kline to use the stairs rather than the elevator.

What did Kline mean, ‘Already on shift?’ Steve had been extra careful about not being seen entering Eddie’s suite, or even inside it. Anyhow, what he did in his free time was up to him, right?

Dream on. He rules the roost in this hotel. He’ll want a cut, or worse.

Steve slopped way more coffee than usual at breakfast. Even his trainee-sous-chef ally, Robin, hollered at him when he forgot to pick up the hollandaise to go with an Eggs Benedict. Kline told him to take the rest of the day off—without pay, naturally. He was heading off, when Robin came running after him. “Steve, wait!”

“What?” He hooked his hands on his hips.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” she said, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Listen, however much that penthouse bum is paying you, you need a night off to actually sleep.”

“I am sleeping, Robin! Only not in a linen closet.” Okay, that was where he’d been heading, but only for a snooze. “Jesus, how many times do I have to tell you? Eddie genuinely is the best thing that’s happened to me in a fucking age.”

...

5.1 on tumblr or search #thefreakinthepenthouse)

Chapter 5 on AO3

Thank you for reading. Likes reblogs and comments much appreciated and will feed the bunnies🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕

On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1

On AO3 All my ST stuff on AO3

[smallestapplin]

If only pt.2

This is a part 2! You can read part 1 here.

Honestly this is to the person who commented they wanted a part 2, and well I’m a push over lol.

Cw : brief assassinate attempt and murder, brief talks of sex. Yandere Thoma.

MDNI it makes me uncomfortable.🔞Adults only!🔞

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The more days that bleed into months, the less Thoma can take, every day is more or less the same.

He makes breakfast for everyone, does his chores, and then comes back midday to you dusting and sweeping, determined to help him. Spending all his time with you until your husband returns, and then you rush over to him ready to lavish him with all the affection you have to offer.

And most nights Thoma listens to your pleasured cries, finding it so cute how you try to muffle them. The only thing that enraged him was it wasn’t him loving on you, it wasn’t him pleasing you, it was always that bastard.

Maybe at the start, he felt bad for the anger to felt towards his friend and boss, but now it’s long gone. Thoma can’t take it anymore.

He wants to hold you, to be the one you rely on, the one you cling to.

He will do whatever it takes to ensure he can get that.

“I’m going to head out soon, my liege, we are out of ingredients for the dinner I wish to make tonight, but I’ll be back soon!” He smiles, knowing exactly what he’s doing when you jump up from your seat.

“Oh! Let me join you, it’s such a nice day after all, and I’d like to look around if that’s okay.” You’re already rushing to the door to get your shoes on.

“I can never say no to you, my liege.”

To you, Thoma was your best friend, someone you could trust and spend time with, why would you question or be suspicious of him? He was also your husband’s closest friend, so why would you even think he’d have other plans?

To Thoma, you are everything, you’re the love of his life, the light of his world, the center of his universe. He needs you, even if you don’t know it yet.

Walking with you he tries to stay as close as possible, just feeling the warmth of your skin just next to his has his heart racing, but he needs to back away if he wants his plan to work.

Just finishing up shopping, he notices you eyeing the path that leads to the ocean. His heart nearly bursts at the idea of you two having a romantic stroll, maybe even a picnic on the shore.

But he bites his tongue and smiles at you.

“Hey, why don’t you head to the beach, I’ll meet you there as I’m almost done anyway.”

You look at him with concern “Oh, are you sure? I don’t want to leave you alone.”

He can feel his face heating up, his heart can only beat so fast.

“I’m sure, don’t worry about it! I’m sure you can find some pretty shells.”

He doesn’t miss how your eyes light up.

“Okay, I’ll meet you there! But be safe.”

“I will, don’t worry.” He watches you take your leave, watching until you disappear out of sight around that corner.

He decides to take his time, chatting with the shopkeeper for a moment longer before buying what he needs. He needs just the right amount of time to not let you get hurt but to also make sure you’re shaken.

And he does.

He counts the seconds in his head as he makes his way towards the shore. His eyes widen to see you being held by a strange, hand over your mouth to silence your screams, and a sword to your throat ready to cut into your skin.

Before your assassin could, however, a blazing polearm lodges itself in the side of their head. You barely manage to lunge away, as your attacker had long since fallen limp from the fatal blow.

Thoma tosses his weapon, uncaring for the lifeless body at the end of his blade. He places his foot on the neck and yanks his polearm from the burnt head.

Thoma whips around to you and rushes to your side, sliding across the sand to place his hands on your face.

“My liege are you okay?”

You don’t answer, burying your face into his chest, gripping his shirt like he’d disappear. It broke Thoma’s heart to hear your broken sobs.

He wraps his arms around you holding you tightly to his chest, he rests his head on top of yours trying to soothe you.

“It’s okay, I’m here. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

He’s happy you can’t see him.

He’s happy your face is in his chest, so you don’t see the smile he has.

Ah, the money he paid was well spent if it had you holding him like this.

He’ll have to hire another assassin soon if he can hold you like this more.

He hates you two will have to return to the estate soon, where he’s sure your husband will be waiting.

But that can wait a little longer, as one of Thoma’s dreams finally came true.

He pulls you into his lap so he can sit more comfortably, engulfing you in his warmth and security. You only hold onto him tighter, your sobs dying down to soft hiccups.

He rubs your back in soothing circles, trying to calm you.

He hopes you can’t hear his heart beating, he hopes you can’t feel the heat stirring in his loins, he hopes you can’t smell the slight burning of his clothes as his vision is out of control, his body heating up from how happy and flustered he is.

He is your protector.

He is yours.

As you are his.

[westeroslive]

the  warm  breeze  midsummer  breeze  dwindles  down  as  long  days  slowly  make  way  for  long  nights  -  autumnal  equinox  is  nearing  but  her  majesty's  esteemed  guests  still  enjoy  the  radiant  sunrays  the  reach  offers.  the  keen  eye  of  lords,  ladies  and  lieges  of  court  alike  notice  the  increased  activity  on  the  lands  of  highgarden  ⸺  something  is  brewing  but  could  it  be  more  than  just  harvest  season  ?  days  pass  and  so  do  the  lunar  phases,  nothing  out  of  the  ordinary  until  the  host  -  the  ruling  lord  tyrell  has  an  announcement  to  make  during  dinner.  under  the  approving  eye  of  the  queen,  he  speaks  poetry  of  his  wife,  each  of  his  declarations  echoing  louder  and  louder  in  his  great  hall  until  the  denouement  of  the  long  -  winded  speech  is  reached.  a  celebration  -  grand  festivities  honoring  the  name  day  of  the  ruling  lady  tyrell  ⸻  to  provoke  delirium  instead  of  misfortune  that  haunts  westeros  at  each  turn.  while  the  servants  continue  their  strenuous  performance  behind  the  scenes  -  finalizing  the  details  for  the  one  week  long  feast  that  must  make  all  forget  about  the  recent  tragedies,  the  westerosi  aristocrats  and  foreign  dignitaries  from  essos  rest  in  their  quarters  on  soft  pillows  and  poster  beds  to  brace  themselves  for  seven  days  of  celebrations.  it  is  time  for  a  new  beginning,  a  blank  page  with  an  ending  unplanned  ...  to  persist  and  thrive,  no  longer  just  survive. 

a  single  envelope  with  pale  green  seal  and  golden  rosette  stamped  on  it  resides  on  the  floor  of  each  noble  house's  chambers,  slipped  under  heavy  wooden  doors  by  attendants.  little  secrecies  revealed  by  quill  -  penned  ink  on  parchment  paper,  detailed  phrasing  on  the  activities  during  the  weeklong  festivities  ⸺  the  star  of  the  name  day  jubilee  written  in  simple  riddle,  shrewd  minds  resolve  it  with  ease  while  even  the  less  unfortunate  can  read  between  the  lines.

 "  the  heart  of  chivalry  is  not  complete  without  a  knight  and  their  crowned  queen.  "

a  grand  -  scale  event  that  will  take  place  over  several  days  while  other  endeavors  never  stop.  the  noble  guests  are  able  to  enjoy  different  types  of  activities  -  from  archery  contests  on  the  training  grounds  to  dancing  on  westerosi  tunes  during  the  lavish  feast  each  night but beware the ruling lady will have some conditions.  for  those  who  wish  to  enjoy  the  beauty  of  highgarden,  the  gardens  offer  plenty  games  for  youngest  members  of  court,  which  includes  games  of  hide  and  seek  with  sweet  treats  hidden  in  the  green  maze,  apple  biting  in  the  fountains,  plucking  the  home  -  grown  fruits  of  house  tyrell  and  bake  treats  with  them  in  the  outside  kitchens,  and  many  other  carnival  games.  even  the  highborn  who  wish  to  unwind  can  watch  a  play  composed  by  artists  unfold  with  ivy  and  climbing  roses  in  the  backdrop,  or  sail  along  with  a  pleasure  barge  along  the  clear  blue  and  calm  water  of  the  mander  with  a  cup  of  freshly  brewed  tea  in  the  hand.  one  thing  is  certain,  everyone  will  be  entertained  as  the  ruling  lord  does  everything  to  ensure  the  pleasure  of  his  guests  and  the  success  of  his  wife's  celebrations.

OUT OF CHARACTER:  LET  THERE BE CAKE

our  event  will  last  approximately  two  weeks,  starting  on  friday  august  16  until  sunday  september  1st,  to  give  everyone  enough  time  to  write  and  create  some  scandalous  little  adventures.  the  event  will  be  followed  by  a  little  revelation  that  brings  us  in  a  new  chapter,  with  fun  galore.

make  sure  to  tag  all  your  open  starters  under  westeros.cake  and  not  the  main  tag  -  that  way  all  event  related  starters  will  be  at  one  place.  don't  be  afraid  to  cap  your  open  and  closed  starters  -  it's  better  to  not  overwhelm  yourself.  be  sure  to  include  everyone  when  doing  a  closed  starter  call  but  also  respect  everyone's  cap  !

as  you  guessed  correctly,  we  will  be  having  a  mini  -  event  that  is  the  joust  tourney.  members  have  until  friday  (  noon  est  )  to  sign  up  for  the  activity.  with regard to the favours typically given to joust participants, we will post more information in our server asap  !  on  friday,  we  will  post  more  details  on  the  joust  but  the  outcomes  will  be  chosen  by  the  wheel  of  fate.

[cerastes]

Fucking hate being a Neptunia fan, bro, I feel like a solemn knight standing alone in a lavish dining hall, cross-armed, seeing as my liege’s whole kingdom falls to ruin, the retaliatory invasions of our enemies finally cracking open our last castle’s defenses, their joint armies pouring in through walls like a porous sieve, and their heroes and champions stand armed and ready, facing me for the last showdown before they can proceed to the throne room and kill my misguided, horrible king, except instead of defending lofty ideals and a paradise lost, I'm standing up for anime girls going “wehh!?!??!! boob size!?!?!” and making references to video games from 1987.

[black-queen-rising]

They Said "Kid, You Gotta Fake It Till You Make It"...Then I Did

(Closed starter for @goldenclarice)

One Moon Ago; The last day of the fourth month, two days before King Viserys’ death

“The Lady-Regent is of House Rowan by birth, gentle, intelligent, and sociable, everything a young Lord-Paramount would be lucky to find in his consort, and that is to say nothing of her connections.”

“Which are?” Rhaenyra’s eyes flitted over to the tall, lithe, and dark-blonde haired woman who stood opposite her in front of a map of The Reach and its borderlands the pair were surveying as she spoke. Lady Willow Fossoway, the eldest child of one of the Tyrell’s strongest banner men, had served as the new Queen’s lady-in-waiting for a decade; she was a stunningly talented musician and composer, so much so that the skill alone was more than enough to keep her in Rhaenyra’s employ, shielded from marriage to a man she would surely find no joy with, and lavished in the company of beautiful but lonely wives and gorgeous, self-abnegating eldest daughters. But the justification was only that, because the true purpose of Lady Willow’s service was as her liege’s principal spy, and spy mistress, in the kingdom’s wealthiest region, the place she was least likely to find allies of her own, the beating heart of The Faith, The Maesters, and the will to see Westeros’ first Ruling-Queen fail.

“The Shield Isles, to begin, she is one of thirteen children, and their Lady-Mother has seen them married despicably well.” Willow laughed shortly, “The eldest three girls all married the now-Lords of the islands, except Southshield, the Serrys are Lady Rowan’s maiden house, their alliance was never in doubt. The heir is my good-brother through Alysanne.”

“The second in your circle?” Rhaenyra questioned, clearly impressed, and Willow nodded satisfiedly.

“The very same! The spare is married to Lord Caswell’s eldest.”

“Wed to a woman set to inherit her father’s fortune, is that not the dream of every second son?” It was the Queen’s turn to laugh, then, and her lady hummed in amused agreement.

“The middle girl is married to the newly inherited Lord Tarly, and the Lady Regent’s closest older sister to the heir to their vassals, Petty Lords by the name of Hunt. As far as anyone can tell all to spurn her mother and the late-Lord Tyrell, which I imagine would’ve made a much larger statement if her sister had not married him herself less than two years later.”

“And the younger ones?”

“The youngest daughter recently came of age, it seems Lady Rowan will settle for no less with her than the heir to House Redwyne, there’s two younger boys as well, it seems they’re waiting in the wings to sure up alliances wherever they’re needed most. The second-youngest girl has accompanied Lady Tyrell to court though,” one of Willow’s perfectly manicured eyebrows raised as she concluded, “They aim high and higher, Lord Cedric and Lady Selyse, and you can be sure there’s soon to come great offense at the match of Prince Joffrey and Lady Alannys. With no marriage pacts to offer and Lord Greyjoy sitting on your council,” she bit the corner of her lip and sighed before concluding, “There may be no true leverage you hold to sway this faction to your side.”

“And their alliances with Oldtown?”

Willow laughed again, but far more harshly than the first, “None to speak of, Your Grace, though certainly not for lack of trying. You mustn’t allow yourself to fall into the trap of seeing these matters as black and white…or even black and green, the late-Lord was no true friend of the Hightowers either, but we will be played for fools if we rely on that simple neutrality.”

“And the late-Lord Tyrell, Lorence, right? Do you know the truth of what happened to him?”

“A skirmish in the Dornish Marches, it was seen by a dozen, and the wounds that caused his demise by thrice that.”

“I see,” Rhaenyra swallowed hard at the feeling of her stomach twisting; the Dornish envoy arrived not a week before, how could she accomplish anything, if she could not even put a stop to this meaningless fighting?

Now; The last day of the fifth month, one week before Queen Rhaenyra’s coronation

The meeting was to be held in the Small Council Chamber, formal introductions had been made on the Iron Throne before her father’s funeral had even come, but this was a conversation between allies, not a missive from a ruler to her vassal. Rhaenyra dressed in gold, daring to hope it would be taken as the show of good faith she intended; what was her reign if not the product of a decade, or three, spent making such gestures.

The Lady Regent is one and twenty, her son, Lyonel, just two.

The reminder bounced around her head, hitting a hundred sore spots on its path. Jace is twenty, Clarice not even a full year older, Rhaenyra herself already had two sons by that age, Joffrey would come before the year was out, she had been ruling Dragonstone nearly five years then. But the memory most in prominent in her mind remained how desperately lonely she had been...and how thoroughly trapped she had felt in the only tangible proof of her father’s love.

She has a mother, a father, half a dozen older siblings too, all supporting her, stop fretting over mothering someone who is not a child, and neither needs, nor wants it…

What would you not have given for the ally you could be to her in this Court? Where would you be if you hadn’t promised yourself so many times the Court you created would not be built off the backs of broken girls?

The battle in Rhaenyra’s thoughts did not cease until the guard outside the door announced, “The Lady-Regent Clarice Tyrell, for you, your Majesty.”

“Of course,” Rhaenyra stood to greet her guest, golden silk swirling around her as silver-gold curls hung elaborately around the Queen’s face and down her back. She was met by a girl with large, dark eyes, wearing an equally lavish gown, who upon closer inspection, could pass for even younger than already apparent youth. Her stomach twisted as the thought intruded into her already fraught mind; the girl you wished so badly for Jace to be…she’d look just. like. her.

Rhaenyra forced a dazzling smile, charm was a skill so practiced in her life she could fake it with an ease most did not even have when operating on intuition. “My Lady, it is a pleasure and a privilege. You have my thanks for making the time to speak privately and I am glad we’ve gotten this chance to acquaint ourselves with one another properly.”

[ofhereditas]

here ye here ye — the riverlands welcomes LADY ROSALINE PEAKE of STARPIKE. king matthos baratheon is glad that the twenty-three year old appears to be guileless and he shall overlook that it’s said they are also naive, as long as they are glad to celebrate peace in the seven kingdoms. fortunately for them, matthos remains oblivious that they are happy with his reign.

Rosaline came into the world smiling.  If her life had been worthy enough to for her birth to be documented in a way other than stating that it had happened, it would’ve been said that she lit up the dreary quarters of her mother’s birthing suite, her near full head of golden Lannister hair catching the few beams of light that crept into the darkened room, eyes resembling the light blue of the sunny weather that her personality would grow to resemble.  One would think, that parents, after the birth of what seemed to be an angelic child, would be overjoyed.  But when it came to the Peakes, they’d be wrong.  Both Mother and Father seemed fairly apathetic about the new arrival to their family, instead doting on their already lavished upon son.  For it was on him their hopes of restoring the House Peak rested upon.  

But regardless of growing up in the shadow of her brother (the darkness he cast over his sister was no fault of his own, and was quite a great brother in actuality), Rosaline continued to bloom.  She excelled at all arts taught to her by the septa.  Needle point, poetry, the lyre, all things performed at the highest caliber by Rosaline, among many other ‘arts’ that were needed to be considered a ‘lady’.  She excelled, but regardless of how well she performed, her parents would barely cast a glance her way.  Her mother, on a night where too much wine had been drunk (an often occurrence) told her that she ignored Rosaline for her own good, to make her work harder, to turn her into a ‘good wife’, always looking to please.  And as cruel as it was, it had worked.  Her parents’ technique (although, some would say her father had not done is purposefully, he was simply oblivious and set on his son as being the future of the house) had turned Rosaline into an earnest and eager to please girl.  All actions were done in the hopes of getting the approval of whoever she had the attention of.  It could be her parents, her distant cousin, Janei, or even suitors. But this also meant that Rosaline was incredibly kind, finding that a sweet smile and genuine, kind words were the best way to anybody’s heart.  No matter the situation, Rosaline can be found with a positive outlook and a smile to encourage those around her.

Rosaline’s father, Titus Peake, was different than other Peake Liege Lords of the past he was ambitious, yes, but not ruthlessly so, as were many of his ancestors.  He carried that chip on his shoulder of once being a great house, that all Peakes had, the hint of desperation to be the one who could improve their status.  But he had hoped to do it through amicable means, unlike his forefathers, perhaps marry his son to a Tyrell, or even a Tarly or Rowan or Redwyne, any house that was in good standing and could carry the Peake name back into good graces.  A rising tide lifts all boats, after all.  But his hopes were dashed upon his son’s exile.  Roland, always the big brother, had been privy to the struggle his parents were having in raising Rosaline’s dowry, and after multiple betrothals falling through to do their inability to produce it, took it upon himself to find the funds.  And he was able to, however his ways were not legal, and after an ultimatum from the crown, Roland, along with his cohorts (Rosaline’s uncle and cousin), were exiled, as Lord Peake feared further repercussions to the Peake name if he refused to do so.  

The crown’s ruling on Roland’s crime only cemented Titus Peake’s hatred for the Lannisters, which was ironic, considering he had married one.  Or perhaps that is what had started the hatred.  Regardless,  Titus now focused his energy on finding Rosaline a match, now refusing any Westerlands or Crownlands matches, despite her mother’s desperation to find one from those areas. He seems to have forgotten that beggars cannot be choosers. 

[damazcuz]

A message for you sire, from the dukedom of Anonymous: "Hark! And privy beware, for the wretched maiden which thou hast welcomed into thine halls by posting her works to the chapel doors--is a witch! This serpent dost taketh the Lord's name in vain egregiously and has been seen lavishing in posts of folly most unsuitable for sire's palate. Be warned, my liege, and take action posthaste, for I should hate to see you beheaded for consorting with such sinners!"

As well as a note from the lord of the next kingdom, requesting that you send a painting of "hole and pole" at once.

[warhammer-fantasy-muses]

NORSCA--

A trail of blazing destruction and gore-covered snow banks were evidence enough of where the Gourmand had strode upon the lands of Norsca, and it made Valkia's tracking of him stupendously easy. But to actually get him to cooperate would be another thing entirely. As she had told her Beloved, he was the shining example of a Khornate daemon, full of rage, fiery conviction, and brutality in combat. But to her, it was unrefined. Sloppy. He was no true instrument of Khorne; he was a blunt. A dull, crude weapon to clobber against a skull, not a fine blade to sever it from its neck. But she would show him what kind of consequences his performance would have.

Striding over another hilltop, she would come to stare upon another scene of carnage and slaughter, the tangy scent of iron still fresh in the air, along with sulfuric smoke and ashes. A whole small settlement, laid to waste, burned in flames, and bathed in blood. And there she saw him; The Goregrinder. The Cannibal. The so-called 'Gourmand'; Kha'Zhubon. The Bloodthirster having occupied himself with throwing a feast in the middle of the town's square. Frowning, Valkia shot into the air, and came crash-landing in the center of town as well, the force of her landing tipping over a huge cauldron of skull brew that had stood simmering, the crimson beverage spilling onto the streets as Valkia now stood ankle-deep in it, scowling up at Kha'Zhubon. The various Furies and Bloodletters he had accumulated as a result of his slaughter-path bayed and snarled at the Gorequeen, but all were wise enough not to attack her.

"Goregrinder! Your failure in your mission to reclaim DeathAxe Monolith has not gone unnoticed by the Axefather, and he has found you lacking! Your failure to take the presence of a Lord of Change seriously lead you to being tricked, deceived, and foiled by the simplest of tricks the Changer could ever employ."

Kha'zhubon stayed silent throughout the Valkyrie's tongue-lashing of his person and his accomplishments during that skirmish. Honestly though, was it even a skirmish? It would've been child's play, had there not been such surprising resistance from the Exiles! His eyes wander to the tipped-over cauldron, and back to Valkia.

"... THAT WAS PERFECTLY FINE SKULL BREW YOU WASTED, GORE-WENCH." he snarls, as Valkia bares her fangs at his disrespect. "THE LORD OF CHANGE WOULD HAVE BEEN CHILD'S PLAY. HE WAS DIMINISHED FROM THE PRESENCE OF OUR FATHER'S ENERGIES, EVEN I COULD TELL. ACKNOWLEDGING HIS PRESENCE WAS NOT MY ERROR! IT WAS THE DAMN TRAITOR EXILES PUTTING UP A DEFENSE I COULD NOT HAVE PREDICTED. KHORNATE AND PLEASURE-KIN WORKING TOGETHER--" he spat on the ground, and even Valkia herself had to subdue a gag from herself. It sickened her as well. And in the back of her mind, the voice of her 'trusty' shield Locephax whispers;

"Well well well~~ Your dear-old Daddy's boys and my Lavish Lord's kin working as one? I would DIE to see such a day... if I were not so graciously dead already, ho ho ho~! Truly makes you wonder how close our lieges still are, does it not, little girl~?" a quick smack of Valkia's elbow against the shield's 'face' earns a silent shriek from Locephax, and then silence before she speaks again;

"Your statement might hold truth, Cannibal, but ultimately the reason for your failure is not important. Only know that Khorne wishes for you to better yourself. Join me in the south, along with fellow Bloodthirster Va'rrick. We have been called to retrieve an object of immense importance." after hearing who he was to pair up with, Kha'Zhubon grumbles and rolls his head, his ruffled mane shaking briskly.

"... HMFH. MYSELF ALONE WOULD BE FINE. BUT IF IT IS THE WILL OF THE GOREFATHER... THEN I GUESS I WILL NOT OBJECT." that comment of being fine on his own had immediate consequences, as suddenly, a streak of blazing flame sings through the air in a semi-straight line, and the tip of Slaupnir embeds itself into one of his horns, before exploding in a violent blaze, blasting it off as Kha'Zhubon howls in rage and pain. The spear then reforms within Valkia's outstretched hand, as she slams it to the ground. The Bloodthirster's eyes glare with venomous hatred down at the Daemon Prince, who just scowls back.

"And SUCH arrogance is what caused your failure to begin with, Goregrinder! I shall not have the same tolerance as your Father, my Beloved Kharneth, would have! From now on, YOU will answer to ME! I will be the judge of your character, and believe me; I am as ruthless as I am devoted! Failure to comply will be met with IMMEDIATE discipline! Understood!?" she'd bark straight in the daemon's face, at which even Kha'Zhubon, with his superior size and bulk, could do nothing but utterly balk. Her stature might be small, but her roaring voice was like having the gaze of his Father upon him, almost as if an aura of Kharneth himself had manifested around her being. So this is how deeply her devotion ran within her... begrudgingly, yet sheepishly, he'd lower his head and gaze to the gore-soaked dirt.

"... UNDERSTOOD, GOREQUEEN."

[antimonyandthyme]

Are there any ideas you want to write but haven't (yet) for whatever reason? No time, too big, too kinky, different fandom, other?

-🐙 (since you've been naming your anons I'll claim this one 😉)

Oh my god octopus anon! I love you I love this question I love that you're giving me free reign to talk about whatever I have rolling about this noggin' I'd like to caution everyone that it is unhinged and very nsfw and sadly I might not get to writing it all but I live in hope!

(Also octopus anon I feel like you already know me because indeed there are a lot of ideas that are probably too kinky--gets sniped)

1. Flesh out the superhero AU

When things get really hectic at work like now I tend to spew out short snippets which is what you've been seeing on the blog, I add lil scenes to the Superhero AU and the Wolf AU and it's just wonderful distraction for me, but the brain is a little too scrambled at the moment to weave all the scenes together.

I'm enjoying the Superhero AU so much that I actually want to sit down and write out a whole proper chaptered story. All the backstory with supes and their companies, Seb's tragic past with Michael, Charles coming into the picture, the training, Seb meeting Mick and dropping his shield, Charles' and Mick's duel with a lot of crying and a lot of yelling, Mick's apology with more crying, SebMickChal as a superhero trio kicking ass and taking names, LOTS OF SEX BETWEEN THE THREE, a final fight in which Seb loses his powers protecting Mick and Charles, Seb retiring to be a farmer.

2. Hear me out, hear me out. I want to write an Attack on Titan AU for F1. I'm not kidding. Seb is Eren. Lewis is Mikasa. Nico is Armin. Am I speaking into the void here?

3. Hear me out, hear me out. I want to write a Star Wars AU for F1. I'm not kidding. Seb is Obi-Wan. Charles is Anakin.

4. I have like, 5 Pacific Rim AUs planned. I can't write them at the moment because my brain is constantly distracted by porn.

5. I've chatficced this with court my beloved @cooldownrooms, and I also want to flesh out the Wolf AU. I want to write an entire story where Seb and Charles lead as co-alphas one human one wolf and they straddle the gap between the village and the forest and slowly gain the respect of all and I want Charles to tell the wolves about his liege lord and a scene in which Seb's reading by the fire with like a dozen wolves curled up around him. Charles has his head in Seb's lap.

6. Sebastidan. Like roadtrip Sebastidan. Summer break comfort Sebastidan. Hot but very sweet sex Sebastidan.

Be warned, things get really funky below. Please tread with caution!

7. More stories regarding fucked up contracts!

In It Takes an Ocean Not to Break, I play around with the idea that contracts exist for prize or punishment for winning and losing. I wanna do a sebchal version in which Ferrari has a contract in place which allows for gangbangs whenever a driver performs poorly. Charles finds out by accident, and questions why it's never happened to him before. Turns out that Seb has been taking it in place of Charles all this time. Charles bursts in during one of the sessions and rips them all off of Seb.

8. Speaking of fucked up contracts!

I want to write an ABO AU for It Take an Ocean Not to Break, in which Seb loses in 2018 goes into heat doesn't know who to turn to (not his own team, he can't even face them) so he goes to Lewis and Mercedes. Lewis and Toto will go to Ferrari tomorrow and rip everyone's heads off for not taking care of Seb but for now they will lavish Seb with all the attention and affection he requires--you get the idea.

9. Smick pleasure toy AU

There's a whole world I've planned in which Mick purchases Seb as a pleasure toy. He goes to an auction and they have all these people strung up on display and Mick zeroes in on Seb and the trader goes oh you don't want this one, he's problematic, and Mick goes oh on the contrary. This one's mine. I don't want to spoil this too much because I really, really want to write it.

10. Fucking machine

Well this is kinda self explanatory and @mediumbeans is already a genius for giving us a glimpse into what Seb would be like with Klaus I love it I love it so much. I do want to get into the mechanics like how is it built? Does it have tentacles? Oh god. How does it fuck Seb? Does it gain sentience? Does it refuse to stop when Seb tells it to stop?

Octopus anon once again thank you for your question you've allowed me to be brave if I haven't scared you away with this please always feel free to ask me for more details I actually have a million other ideas they never stop. Time's mostly the issue with all of these I enjoy writing so much but unfortunately! Life calls.

[scotsq]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: Closed started for @ladymegwelles​ 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: Goddess Banquet - The Great Hall at Hampton court. 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄: November of 1559

Within a week’s time, the Arthurian glamor of Hampton court had been shrouded in shades of imperial gold and shimmering emerald, the allure of ancient Greece breathing new life into those unapologetically English halls. Kaleidoscopic fauna imported directly from the coast of Athens flourished from rims of ceramic vases and strewn along the paneled walls hung illustrious tapestries that inspired much discussion regarding their histories and meanings. At every turn stood lavish Tudor courtiers emulating their chosen ethereal being, the room practically overflowing with Mediterranean opulence. Goddesses and muses alike twinkled with rare pearls and raw gemstones cascading their gowns as spellbound gods watched their every move with intent. Intricate and ornate environments such as these would always set Mary at ease, for it was in at the nucleus of magnificence that the white lily of France thrived. 

The Queen seemed to effortlessly float across the grand scape of the great hall as though she were truly the muse Terpsichore reborn, her curled auburn ringlets bobbing gracefully beneath a neatly wound plait and a crown of pure white lilies all bound together with red satin. At the moment, all four of her ladies (each of them styled as muses themselves to further compliment their dear liege and friend) were absent from her side, having dispersed some moments ago to integrate within the intimate circles at the ball. Never too far from their mistress, Mary could easily call upon them whenever the need arose, however it was not their presence in which the Queen sought this night. 

Among the swirling sea of cloth of gold and rich crimson damask, Mary caught sight of the lady Marguerite Welles, a name she had heard often in passing bearing a face that she would not soon forget. The raven-haired lady in waiting to her intelligent, albeit dull cousin Elizabeth was a striking beauty in her white silk and gold embellishments. What a pretty gem in my cousin’s court Mary thought. Gliding across the great hall in flowing silk like a paragon of French excellence, Mary paused once she stood across from Marguerite and dipped her heart-shaped head to acknowledge the lady. “My lady,” Mary greeted with a natural warmth that rivaled that of mother Earth herself. “We have not yet been formally introduced by I was compelled by your radiance to make your acquaintance.” Standing a decent few inches above her in height, Mary’s eyes scanned the lady as she admired her garments and extended her hand for Marguerite to take into her own. “I must call upon your tailor for I am in awe of his work.”

[furinaslays]

Endless Nights Of Torture p2

even know if she'll be able to see his beautiful face ever again. The next few weeks were tough for her, her clothes were thin and she was barely fed, almost being starved to death. She's cold and doesn't know what to do, waiting for the time when someone will save her. A month passed and when she was trying to sleep, she heard her cell being opened "__ wake up." she slowly stood up in confusion in her mind, thinking "Am I going to be freed? Did someone come for me, will I be able to see Kaveh again" questions spiraled in her head but the guard was not patient and almost dragged her out and bring her somewhere unknown to her. Someone put a blindfold on her, probably to keep her controlled so she doesn't know the setup of the "building", but she wouldn't know, it's not like she could even escape. they finally stopped in a room and the guard pushed her to her knees She could hear unfamiliar voices talking "Is this her?" "She looks gorgeous" It was all blank to her, What was happening? is she getting sold? She was later brought back to her cell and she was still confused about what happened. The next few days were normal. her, doing her daily routine of eating, sleeping, and trying to keep warm until one day the same guard opened the door to her cell and told her "You're going to have to follow me." she did what he asked, not wanting to know what would happen if she didn't and she was brought to a room, a lavish room at that. it had gold everywhere and she saw the back of a man, he was in expensive clothes, professionally sewed, gold and diamonds surrounded him. The guard said "This will be your new "liege" listen to him if you will and you won't know the consequences, you will be leaving here with him today." the girl was happy, but skeptical. yes, she was free now but what would this man do to her? The guard did say I had to listen to him. The man looked at the girl walking toward her and tilting her chin. "my my, are you a precious gem? ill call you Rosalyn"

[lavishliege]

Lavish Liege

A premium collection of photographs featuring black self expression.

[action-not-despair]

do yall ever think abt what could've happened if jester and beau bought those twin tigers along with nugget, sprinkle, and professor thadeaus because I sure do. all the time.

[zhongrin]

universe abound

| ◆ ch.7 ⑊ interlude i.

⬙⤠ masterlist ⤝⬙

◇ a/n ◇ it's back! for now... at least... i'm struggling with ch 8 lol perhaps i should release the x reader chapters first.... hmmmm.... what do you guys think.....

"how are they?"

"still asleep."

barbatos lets out an indignant huff, his hands settling on his hips as he regards the youngest out of the three of them, "it's not fair! you get to hog them for, what now, five days??"

"after [name] blessed inazuma personally, it's only natural that i would oversee their recuperation and make sure that they are the most comfortable," beelzebul answers haughtily, a proud smile tugging on her lips as she returns the other's envious gaze, "it was an honor, to witness the divine one's power right before my own eyes. it is just as beautiful as what makoto used to tell me."

"hmph! well, i'll have you know that i've personally seen [name] perform a whole lot more miracles! and even better - she used to do it for me!"

"w-well, the creator was the one who asked me to take a walk around inazuma in the first place! clearly, they favor the country i've created even without their memories of the past…"

the two continue to bicker with each other, and morax chuckles upon viewing the sight. their images overlap with his memories, and he watches wistfully as his younger, brasher self hurls words after words of snide remarks in the face of osial's provocations, hoping to gain your attention. your laugh echoes in his mind, carefree and amused, your next words meant to scold them but your relaxed stance tells him that you're not the least bit bothered at the childish display.

his daydream ends when the two fall into a tense silence, facing away from each other. with a calm wave of his hand, he calls out to the two, specifically the anemo archon himself.

"now, now. let us both take this experience as a blessing instead, barbatos - it only means that we have more time to ensure we will be ready the moment they grace us with their divine presence."

the shogun of inazuma turns away pointedly, her arms crossed. though it may sound harmless, the implication behind the dragon's words was not lost on her. in her moments of impulsiveness, she had lacked to consider giving you the grandest welcome she could ever provide.

"the creator will not be swayed by overly grand gestures. they see our heart and sincerity."

"perhaps. but they deserve the lavish treatment nonetheless. to devotedly serve and to offer all we have to the creator, in exchange for our godhood and their guidance. such is the contract binding us to them."

beelzebul huffs and takes one last glance at her fellow archons, before walking away to tend to her own duties with one last announcement, "i will notify you both when they wake. i am not so childish as to keep them away from your people. but i believe that in the end, they will choose to settle with their most sincere devotee, not those with a penchant for excessive grandeur."

"how does your sister fare, baal?"

"she is well, your grace. her sense of duty is as impeccable and as unshakeable as always."

the corners of your eyes crinkle in amusement.

"you say that, but aren't you just as headstrong in your ideals and beliefs?"

"i suppose so, your grace."

and one day, it might become your downfall, you muse sorrowfully as you gaze into her soft purple eyes.

"please extend my invitation for her too, the next time you visit."

"i always do so every single time, my liege. however, she keeps telling me she is unworthy to be in your presence…"

"nonsense," you swat a nonexistent disturbance in the air and laugh, "you both should learn from the young rex and his friends. the older ones used to call them insolent. i find them rather charming."

"rex? you refer to the rex lapis? morax, the lord of geo?"

"can hardly believe it, can't you? he used to be much… hmmm… how do i describe it… clumsy? less polished? … ah, adorable! that's the word!"

"a… adorable? well… if your grace says so… though it is a little hard for me to imagine…"

"everyone says that! why don't we have some snacks over a cup of tea - guizhong just sent me tea made from a new type of flower she grew herself - and i can tell you all about how morax used to behave! tease him for me when you meet him, okay? it's his punishment for not dropping by to visit me for so long!"

makoto replies with a cheerful laugh and a nod. your heart clenches inside your chest.

it's so unfair that all the gentle ones are always the ones who die first.

© zhongrin | 2022 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

◇ taglist ◇ @paintingsofdragonspine | @genshinparty | @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sophiethewitch1 | @why-am-i-here-someone-save-me | @sunnshineflxwer

ps. if you want to be removed/added from the taglist, just send an ask!

[syrma-sensei]

→ Pleasure Services

original art by: spaceboykenny

This one-shot is dedicated to my dear friend: @hoeforreiner, hope you like it, hun 😚❤️

→ attack on titan masterlist | ao3 | wattpad

pairing: gladiator!Reiner Braun x mistress!reader

setting: Ancient Rome AU

rating: dark, explicit.

warning: slavery, angst, dom reader, humiliation, twisted games...

word count: 5.2k

Every month, a grand game took place in a vast court, bestowed with the presence of Emperor Fritz and his wife, Empress Ymir and their two eldest daughters: Maria and Rose, whereas little princess Sina was too young to behold such event; a gruesome one at the point.

Well-trained gladiators were to fight, most of times to the death, to entertain an applauding and profuse crowd. Most of them were slaves of Marley soldiers, traitors, criminals, or previous disobedient house slaves that their masters were tired of them.

You were a famous Mistress to hold such business, you took it after your father, it was profiting and delightful to you. The money you earned from the gambles on the warriors you had — you had the best of all. Unlike the other masters, you didn't welcome any slave to your training grounds. They should be fitting, meet your high standards, and you were generous enough to let them live a luscious life before the possible fatality on court. But they were vicious and capable, they had never disappointed you before.

Dressed in your silky robes that oozed wealth made upon the shoulders of those vigorous men, you swayed your way left and right, stuttering your power and opulence. Your laced, leather sandles tapped against the marble floor as you sauntered down the vaunted corridors, on your way to the lavish seat within the crowd, very much close to the royal family's cabin, your father wouldn't dream of it, but you earned that place.

“Lady (L/N),” A gruff voice came from behind you.

You bowed to the large man, “Your Majesty,”

“I expect your infamous gladiator is up to a fight today, isn't he?”

You couldn't help the smirk on your lips, “Of course, Your Majesty, as you'd requested,”

“Good,” He gave you an amused smirk of his own, “Many thanks, Lady (Y/N),”

It was several days ago, when you received a message from the Emperor himself, marked with his royal seal, requiring you to put that gladiator on the next game. You didn't entertain the idea really, because he was precious to you and you didn't want to let him go to waste on games. But you couldn't turn off a liege's order, could you? Furthermore, you were absolutely certain of your slave's capability, and whomever his competitor was, he'd strike him down with ease. You smirked.

Following the sovereign and his wife and daughters, you took your seat, right beneath the royal box, and among the highest of the high, waiting for the tournament to start.

You watched Lady Mikasa Ackerman, sitting next to you after she startled a bit at your presence. She and you weren't on best terms to say the least. You two were vicious rivals to get on top, and perhaps her inheritance and being an Ackerman, a noble family and close to the royals, gave her quite the advantage. One would certainly know that you wouldn't have a chance against her, but again you proved that allegations to be wrong.

“Lady Mikasa,” You acknowledged her out of courtesy; you knew your manners well.

“Lady (Y/N),” She said, voice curt and unamused as she sat beside you.

It'd always been like that, ever since you climbed your way to the top and almost knocking her off of it. She always — and unabashedly — showed her disdain for you, given you weren't born of noble blood like her. But it amused you, and it did too much. How you, a mere mistress could unsettle her greatly, that when you decided to mess with her.

“A word of mouth says that your slave, Jaeger,” Her instant flinch didn't go unnoticed by you, “is visiting whorehouses, not that it's truly a big deal, but they say he terrorises the poor whores with unspeakable deeds,”

You watch her jaw clench. Good. She was taking the bait, and nothing could bring you more pleasure.

“Eren,” She called her slave by his name, and it was utterly normal, but the way she said it with was ardent almost... intimate. “isn't doing anything of the sort, and I hope you don't believe to those filthy rumours,”

Ah, here she was again, trying to mask her anger beneath false cordiality. But you knew better.

“Of course, Your Ladyship, I just said what I said to warn you, I know how Jaeger is valuable to your business, and such words might damage his popularity amongst the audience, and we don't need that, no?”

She forced a smile as she gazed at you, “Thank you, Lady (Y/N), I appreciate your... consideration.”

“Of course, my lady, of course,”

However, rumours didn't include that Jaeger was fucking whores, but Lady Mikasa herself. Rumour had it that the slave and his mistress were in having an affair, and if that turned out to be true, it would lead the both of them to a very unpleasant place.

The herald's strong voice boomed, over powering the crowds' chattering and screaming.

“Behold, Their Majesties, Emperor Fritz and Empress Ymir, and Their Highnesses, Princesses Maria and Rose.”

The crowd barked and applauded as the royalty made it to their cabin, waving their hands to the people. Fritz was doing it vivdly, while Ymir was more forced into it, and the young princesses were doing their utmost best to do what they ought to do.

After taking their seats, Fritz gestured his hand to the herald.

“Today's game should include the fight that each one of us has been waiting for,” The herald hollered, “It is between two of our most favourite fighters; fierce they're known, and merciless when it comes to death...”

The intense silence, the anticipating eyes, the boiling bellies, the thumping hearts, you enjoyed it all.

“The man who was a general in our army, the one who betrayed us, the sinner who's seeking forgiveness,” The herald's voice was strong, unrelenting, “Ladies and gentlemen, with His Majesty's blessio, I present to you; the Armoured Titan, Reiner Braun!”

A very cheerful applause followed as the gladiator came out from the gates.

A very contented smile quirked your lips as you saw your warrior, board and chin up, an aggressive expression adorning his handsome face, his muscular and huge body cladded in an elegant armour, that you personally had chosen. The cheer satisfied you greatly; Reiner, although being accused of military treason, he'd gained grand popularity amongst the people and won their hearts, as if he had done nothing before and that was all because of you and how you presented him; a sinner looking for a remission for his gruesome deeds, and from the mad clapping and cheering, you knew you made a very damn good job at it.

“His rival to victory today is, our favourite local man, who's been accused of murdering his masters, seeking freedom of slavery,” You glanced at Mikasa next to you to find her... anxious. You raised and amused eyebrow and puckered your lips up in a sickening grin. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you also, the Attack Titan, Eren Jaeger!”

A loud cheering followed, almost as rowdy as the one they did for Reiner.

Eren came out of the gates as well, with his long, brown hair, and fierce, green eyes. Unlike your warrior, he didn't wear anything but a topless tunic, a piece of groin protection, and a pair of sandals. His tan skin was glowing feverishly under the sun.

The two warriors approached near to the royal box and bowed, “We who are going to die, salute you!”

The Emperor nodded at them both, “Let the game begin!”

•••

“You did well today, Reiner,” Your fingertip ghosted on the skin of his chest, teasing and mischievous, “You made me proud, my warrior, and your Mistress deems you worthy of a reward tonight,”

After the game had ended, with Reiner as the winner, and after smashing Eren's jaw, and the crowd losing their mind over the scene, you took Reiner back to your quarters in your palace, and tended his wounds all yourself. That whore's gladiator had stabbed a spear through your precious Reiner arm, but fortunately, it didn't hit a main vessel. You smiled, despite his arm becoming useless during the fight, he had managed to win.

You could feel him shiver under you hands, you giggled, “Wouldn't you like it?” Leaning your face in, you took a lick of his already erected nipples, “To let your Mistress pamper you, her brave and strong slave?”

Gulping hard, he looked into your eyes pleadingly, just like you taught him; when he wanted to beg something of you, he had to say it with him gazing at you in the eye.

“Y-Yes, milady,” He nodded hesitantly, “I'd love to have you pampering me... although I don't deserve it.”

His face snapped to the side as your palm connected to his cheek. “Slaves don't have a say in what they deserve, their masters decide it, and when I say you deserve something, then you indeed deserve it,”

Reiner's head dropped in shame, “I crossed my lines, I apologize, milady,” He was now on his knees before you, “Please forgive me,”

You grasped his stubbled chin gently, tipping his head up to lock his eyes with yours.

“Forgivness must be earned, Reiner,” You said, playfulness screaming out of your voice, “Don't you agree?”

Finally, you saw him smile, exhaling deeply from his lungs, picking up too well on what you were hinting at. So, with shaky hands, he caught your hips so lightly as if he was afraid his callous hands would hurt you, “Will milady allow this slave to please her?”

You smirked, “Yes, but don't you dare mess this up,”

“Of course, milady,”

He was on feet again, towering over you before sweeping you in his arms delicately. Reiner put you on the foot of the large bed, kneeling on the floor before you. One firm hand grabbing the hem of your robe, sliding it up to reveal the delicious skin of your legs.

“So divine,” He whispered, kissing your ankle with his warm lips.

“Do you see me a goddess, Reiner?” You asked as your elbows carried your weight up, rising your upper body in order to watch him.

His lips trailed a line of kisses on your leg, strong hands around your ankles pulling you closer to his head.

“You're my goddess, milady,” He made sure to say that with eye contact as he teased your inner thigh.

You sighed deeply, his thumbs circling on your skin so slowly, so softly.

“Worship me then,” You said, a challenging hint tinting your tone, “Show me how obedient of a devotee you are,”

And with that you splayed your legs a bit, puckering your lips into a haughty smile, and he smiled back, lifting an eyebrow amusedly.

Reiner leaned in again, pressing his face into the crook of your hip, nuzzling his nose into it, and your head snapped, and you burst out laughing.

Reiner felt his heart flutter at your voice, and you felt the smile on his lips as he dug down to your mound. Reiner made sure to tease your skin first, kissing and licking on your outter labias and rims of your slits, taking sick pleasure of hearing you moan and mewl his name over and over.

“Gods!” you snapped, gripping on his hair hard, “Get over it already, Reiner,”

And so he did.

The warrior buried his face into your slit, his nose brushing to your clit whereas his tongue licked all the way up your hole. The pressure made you explode.

“Ah... Reiner...” Your hands tightened, one on his hair and the other on the sheets.

Reiner wasn't only an expert in splitting his rivals' throats on court, rather his tongue was also pretty adept on splitting you open down there. His master tongue brushing your small labias left and right, kissing fondly on the hood of your thrilled bud, before inserting it, dripping wet with his saliva and your juices, inside of you.

“Gods above, Reiner!” You hummed, head digging back into the mattress, coils tugging at the tip of your stomach. “R-Reiner... hah.. Reiner you bastard... k-keep going,”

Your thighs sqeezed his head, a desperate attempt of you to cease the fireworks between them, but to no avail. He cooed against your cunt, his voice vibrating against your flesh.

Reiner's tongue was diligent, relentless as he fucked you through spit and slicks. Your were his ambrosia, already tasting it like the gods above. And when you came in a powerful spasm, with a scream of his name, he lapped your cum, tongue pressing against your swollen clit and drawing every wave out of your orgasm.

Your legs shook, and your eyes closed shut, as he seized your cunt between his lips and began to suck. You tried to push his head away, you needed to recover, he was in no place to fuck you dumb just by his tongue.

“S-Stop!” Unlike the heartless lady you were, your word came out as whine, a pathetic sound of begging. You were triggered.

“Stop it!” You pushed your gladiator's head away, well he obliged to your demand to be exact. Your cunt pulsing and shivering, missing the warmth and wetness of his mouth. Reiner was practically making out with your pussy, and you fucking liked it. He was a damn good kisser, upper and lower lips, he could take care of them very thoroughly.

Through half-lidded eyes, chest heaving up and down, you glared at him. He was smiling, giddily. His chest was heaving too, excited. You shivered when he licked you off of his lips, his tongue brushing teasingly on his skin.

The bastard, does he seriously have the notion that he can overpower me?

You clicked your tongue, and Reiner's face dropped.

“Is something the matter, milady?” You could sense the urgency in his voice.

The audacity, he even has the nerve to ask!

You tsked again, “I don't think you quite understand, Reiner.” You lifted yourself up, surging forwards down to his handsome face, cupping his cheek, “When I tell to stop, you stop,”

“I-I... I'm terribly sorry, milady,” He puffed air in a light chuckle, “I got carried away, and I couldn't help myself... I love pleasuring you,”

“Oh, really?” Your mouth quirked into a sly smile, “Tell me, Reiner,” He quivered as you played with his dirty blond hair, “Are the other slaves privileged as such?”

His eyes never leaving yours, “No,” Reiner clasped your hand on cheek, and kissed your palm. “I'm forever in debt to you, milady,” He whispered.

“So, you accept doing this just to repay your debt, Reiner?”

“No!” He almost yelled that, “Not at all; I'm well aware I cannot do that. I-I know my place too well, milady,” His eyes locks with yours again, just to detach away again, “I-I... dare not say what motivates me to keep going on this,” A fierce blush smeared his face pink.

You giggled, tapping his shoulder, “It's alright, Reiner, to admit the needs of your flesh,” You fondled his cheek gently with your fingertips, “Your Mistress is generous enough to let you indulge yourself in that regard, as long as you make that bitch cry by beating that her slave's arse up,”

An image of Lady Mikasa falshed through your mind. When she hysterically screamed when her fighter — lover — was down. The idiot whore, she even begged the sovereign to stop Reiner from delivering the final blow to save Eren's life. And the monarch obliged, even though he was experiencing an unmatched euphoria from watching the fight, that even his wife or any other whore could never give him.

You knew why he spared his life; he wanted to see more of Reiner and Eren's fighting.

Reiner chuckled, shaking his head, “Although what milady implies is utterly correct, but there's something more to it,” He dropped his head again, “And I'm afraid I'm in no place to divulge it,”

Reiner's head snapped again to face you, when he heard you hum so beautifully, his lower lip shuddered.

Reiner closed his eyes shut, and you could've sworn you could hear his heart pumping in his ribcage so vigorously.

“I told you, Reiner, it's not your place to decide it, so, come on,” You crossed your legs haughtily, lips curling into an amused grin, “Do tell me, what's your secret motives, other than your carnal needs,”

He finally opened his eyes, somehow gathering the courage to utter, “I harbour feelings for you, milady,”

You giggled again, and he pouted; you were taking sick pleasure in this, and you fucking knew it.

You passed a fingertip on his cheek, “What kind of feelings, Reiner, hm?”

He licked his lips, frustration covering his face, you saw his bulged Adam's apple sway up and down as he swallowed hard.

“Respect, loyalty, and... and even... perhaps l-love,”

The frightened yet anticipating expression he drew on his face was priceless, and your smirk dilated.

“I'm sorry, I'm terribly sorry, I-I shouldn't have said tha — mmmhhhmm...”

Reiner rough arms brushed against your silky robe as he held you close in his hold after you practically jumped onto him. Your arms around his neck, lips syncing and smooching urgently. He couldn't stop his hands from ramming down your back, even to your arse, circling his palms on your hips and sides.

Your lips were hugging in amatory, tongues dancing leisurely, before he wrapped his lips around your tongue and started sucking on it. You hummed in delight, rolling yourself on top of him, as he grazed your chin then going back up to your mouth.

Your lips popped and clicked in the most wet, salacious sounds, sneaking through your bodies lithely. With each sound, you could feel your folds wring and throb in need, and more slicks smearing your already dirty robe.

When you two broke the kiss, his gaze held yours, and he dared to grab the hem of your dress, sliding it up your head, putting it aside, revealing your body to him.

“My sweet lovely goddess,” He uttered breathlessly, and before he could steal your lips again in another kiss, you drew back, your glorious body retreating up to the bed. And while doing so, your eyes never left his, inviting glint gleaming within your eyes, and he gladly accepted. It wasn't his place to say no after all, was it?

He followed you to bed, after slipping his leather sandals off.

His hazel eyes rammed your body, vehement and intense, and you noticed the hitch in his breath. You allowed him to top you, to entertain his needs of pleasing you. Reiner's killer hands, as rough as they were, were nothing but smooth on your skin, and his lips made wonders on your body.

Your figure sank into the fluffy mattress, his overly skilled hands were sending you to the edge, coaxing purring moans and whispers when he lavished your neck and breasts. But when you sensed him going down there again, you stopped him, then you sat up, and pushed him on his back, straddling his toned abs.

You giggled at his perplexed expression.

“H-Have I done something wrong, Goddess?”

Another giggle, swiping the tip of your forefinger on his muscled chest, “Not at all, but on the contrary...” Your smile didn't budge when you hunched over to whisper in his ear, “You're being a very good boy, Reiner,”

And gods above, you could feel his entire body jolt beneath you. The cotton loincloth that was left on was painfully straining his cock.

“Please — ugh...” His panting voice turned into a heavy grumble when you curled your small hand around his clothed manhood, a wet line of pre-cum already moistened the loincloth.

“M-Milady... please...” Reiner's rasp voice came out hushed, breathless, as he shamelessly begged you, and you trembled, delightful chills crossing your body, your twisted side was enjoying this; having a fierce warrior, a brutal one, imploring you to touch him, grope him, feel him, to let you have him whole.

“Good boy, Reiner,” You stroke his clothed cock harder, “Good boy, my strong, beautiful warrior,”

And that was the last straw; you felt wetness dampening the piece of clothing, seeping through the cotton to reach your hand; your eyes dilated. The latter twirled his head to the side in shame, dark hues of red rising on his face.

“D-Did you just release, Reiner?” You said in utter disbelief.

“No! I-I mean yes,” He said bashfully, still not facing you, “I-I'm so sorry... I didn't mean it to be fast!”

You were silent for a moment; your gladiator was full of surprises ideed. For all you knew, Reiner was into be shackled and tied up, being at command like an eager dog. You used to put a choker on his neck, and tell him how needy of a slave he was. Tying him up to your bed and having your way with him. You told him profane and filthy things, about how slutty he was, and slap him in the face for daring to hint at disobedience, and he liked it, you used his guilt and regret against him, making him think of himself worthless, and only you who could provide him value. You relished in it too far, using him, mentally and physically, for your own pleasure. But that was the point of slaves, wasn't it? To serve their masters with everything they could? And you were generous enough to seek what pleased him too, and Reiner loved to be humiliated and debased, to be treated like trash, for he was trash, and that was why he turned into a slave in the first place, to atone for his sins, he had betrayed the empire, and killed one of his comrades, Marco Bodt, in the process.

But did you give two shits about the matter? Absolutely not. Reiner was a military man, a brute beast in the battlefield, and today he managed to beat Mikasa's gladiator, and he did it to make his Mistress happy. He was about to charge the final blow but that slave's bitch of a mistress broke the rules and saved her precious warrior. And you couldn't be any happier, to break her resolve and freak her out. She wasn't on top anymore, and you got an approving from the emperor himself.

You burst into laughter, making him whip his head towards you, “Aww, my fierce warrior loves to be praised by his Mistress, how adorable,”

And it was indeed; the blood of his competitor was still on his wrappings, the ones you discarded aside to personally tend his wounds by yourself. But here he was, with his huge and broad structure, rendered helpless under your touch, and begging for more.

“Milady... please forgive me,” He kissed the pad of your palm, “I j-just lost control of myself,”

A wide smile cracked your mouth, patting his cheek.

You chuckled heartily, “That's where you're wrong, darling,” You back sloped down, “You never were in control, Reiner,” Another chuckle, licking one his nipples, you knew how sensitive they were, “I am,”

Reiner hissed both in pain and pleasure, and you took one nipple in your mouth, and the other being twisted harshly between your thumb and forefinger.

“F-Fuck...” Reiner's eyes rolled back, “Milady, please... please... ghhh,”

You drew back; you wanted to look at him, and he was in a pathetic state. You giggled, cupping his cheeks again.

“You're going to promise me, Reiner,” You bit on your lower lip, “You're going to show me how strong you are, just how I taught you before, hm?”

Reiner's eyes flew open, carrying his upper body on his elbows, when he felt your nimble fingers unfastening his lower cloth.

“Wait, wait! please, I'm not ready ye — fuck!”

His head snapped backwards, feeling your warm tongue lapping the underside of his hard cock, reaching the weeping tip then wrapping your lips around it. Reiner hiccuped when he gazed down at you. But like you taught him, he stood still, clenching the sheets underneath him. Damn, the cuffs would have made it easier to him in this case, he didn't trust what his hands might do, and he'd be damned if he disappointed his mistress.

Your lips let go of him with a wet sound.

“Behave.” Your eyebrows knitted in a playful hug, and he nodded frantically, the apple of his throat bulging conspicuously as he swallowed hard.

You nodded approvingly before taking him in again, deeper this time. Reiner was huge everywhere, and his cock was no exception; you were having a bit of trouble to adjust him in. But you did eventually, of course you did. Reiner was your slave, and you'd be damned if you, his owner, couldn't take him in.

Reiner squirmed; your tongue swirling and twirling around him so adroitly, and his breathing grew ragged.

“M-Milady, please... AH!”

A wicked smile slipped into your lips even though you were tearing up, and then you sucked him, hard, and by the incoherent, guttural sounds he was making, you knew he was raving with pleasure.

Your drew your face back a little only to plunge him deeper, your nose being tickled by the blond hair, his balls slamming your chin. You reached out for his hands, and you interwined your fingers with his, as you bobbed your head over and over, making his tip scratch the back of your throat.

Reiner's hands clasped harder on yours, “Milady, please, please, I'm... I'm going to...”

That was when you slipped out, lips and chin already stained with pre-cum and spit.

With half-lidded eyes, hazel orbs gazing at you with beseech.

“You want to have release, Reiner?”

The latter gulped, nodding, “Yes, yes, I want it so bad... please...”

“Then have it inside of me, warrior,” You poked his nose, “Show me what you can do,”

Reiner nodded again, almost eagerly this time, and he surprised you by grabbing your hips, flipping you on the mattress and topped you. You giggled cheerfully, waiting for him to ravish you, and Reiner didn't disappoint you. Such a good boy.

Reiner's body dwarfed you, and you allowed yourself to feel safe with him. Slaves were dangerous. You worked as a mistress for long enough to work it out, and what you had with Reiner was even more dangerous. To have a sexual relationship with one of your slaves, to let him be in your personal bed, it was a great jeopardy. Not that it was frowned upon of course, for the masters were allowed to have their slaves as they pleased. But those slaves were free one of those days, and certainly, some of them yearned for freedom. But you knew Reiner wasn't one of them; the man relished in being a slave, your slave in that regard, and you made sure to ruin him, to make him attached to you by owning him in all aspects.

It began in purely animalistic kind of way. You found in him the perfect servant in bed; you'd had always a thing for tamming big, puffed men, to have them begging at your feet, but Reiner, fuck, you didn't even need to break him; he was already broken with shattered soul, and had no ounce of defiance.

You could sense the uncertainty in your gladiator's hands, so, you grabbed and led them to your tits, and he obliged, kneading and massaging them assiduously. Hushed mewls slipping through your lips, tough thumbs caressing your nipples.

“Reiner...” Arms encircling his powerful neck, pushing his head forwards, burying it into your breasts, and Reiner obliged, he deluged your mounts that teared you up.

“Reiner...” You bit on your lower lip, “Put it in... put it in... nhhhm,”

Reiner buried his face into the crook of your neck, and sleeved himself within your hungry walls impatiently. You plundered his lips, sloppy and lazy kisses as he pounded inside of you untill his tip kissed your cervix nuzzily. Nails digging into his flesh, and meat blunging from between your fingers, drawing blood out as you marked him yours.

“M-Milady...” He whispered next your ear, pinching his eyes shut, “I'm close...”

“So am I-I — nah!” Your orgasm hit you, unraveling the tight knot coiling at the tip of your stomach, and Reiner followed you, painting your insides white with his profuse seed.

You took him in your arms when you were finished, caressing his face so gently, “Good job, Reiner, good job...”

And while stroking his hair you wondered, would you act like Mikasa if he were on the edge of death, or would you let him die like any other slave you had had?

•••

Reiner Braun was a sinner, and he was fully aware of that fact. Marco's ghost still hunted him within the nights, depriving him of sleep and rest. Except those amazing nights he had with his mistress, his alluring and beautiful mistress.

Reiner had fallen deep for you, he knew it was kind of illicit type of love, but he fell for you hard, another sin into his record wouldn't make a difference, he thought. But what would certainly make a difference was the consequence of what he was about to do.

Reiner made his way to the infirmary where Eren was attended. He walked into his room to see the later up and about already, but with swollen jaw.

“Reiner,” Eren acknowledged.

“Eren,”

“You're certainly not here to apologize for almost killing me. So, what brings you here?”

“Indeed I'm not,” Reiner exhaled through his nostrils, “I want to speak about the rebellion,”

Eren raised his brows, “What about it?”

Reiner shook his head, gulping, “I'm out,”

“Gods above! Reiner what in the fucking gods' names are you talking about?!”

“I can't keep on it,” Reiner's face turned solid, “I don't want to anymore,”

Eren's green eyes were dilated, but then he scoffed, “A true slave you are,”

It happened years ago, when he and Eren were still freshly enslaved for their crimes, the latter approached him with a mad plan to revolt against the masters, to get rid of this cycle of slavery once and for all, convincing him it was the only way he could atone for his crimes. Eren had hit a very sensitive string that day, and Reiner accepted almost immediately.

The plan was to get close to the masters and gain as much as they could of power and influence within them. And it worked; the rumours about Eren and his mistress were true, they were actually in an affair, so were you and Reiner. But unlike Eren who was in control and never wavered from his determination to be freed, Reiner leant in and gave up. He had fallen in love with his own enslaver, his now lover, and last night, he felt it. He dared to feel the kindle of love you had for him. That was where Reiner realized his truth; he never wanted to be forgiven nor atoned, he only wanted to he loved as the sinner he was.

“I think I am...”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Twisted Tarot IV — The Emperor

"Leadership is not a position or a title, it is action and example.”

The Emperor, Upright: authority, establishment, structure, a father figure

The Emperor, Reversed: domination, excessive control, lack of discipline, inflexibility

He is the ultimate authority--none can stand to challenge him in power, nor prestige. His people look to him for wisdom and guidance, and he, with the weight of the crown heavy upon his head, leads. If he falters, so, too, will his kingdom--so he must stand tall and stare straight into the face of the unknown.

Reveal the Shape of thy Soul...

... Malleus Draconia!

“... and this is our lounge!” Lilia chirped, sweeping a hand to gesture at the amenities. “Quite welcoming and lavish, isn’t it? Feel free to use this space to unwind from the stress of your classes and extracurriculars.”

Diasomnia freshmen exchanged dubious glances with one another in the dim room. Even then, they could barely see each other or the fear reflected in their eyes.

Through the mirror and up a winding, worn stone path they had treaded, the bramble coiling at their feet with every step. Nestled at the top of the hill, at the end of that trek, loomed a great castle with piercing spires and grand arches against the stormy sky.

The new students had balked as Lilia ushered them through the front doors. Their shadows shivered along creeping corridors, the walls lined with ancient artifacts and tapestries spinning stories of old, secrets and rumors woven into their threads. It was dark and cold and oppressive, less like a home and more like a dungeon.

Was Lilia the shepherd guiding his meek sheep to safety, or guiding his lambs to be sent to slaughter?

The freshmen weren’t sure.

One of them raised a hand. “Er, Lilia-senpai, sir? It’s a too dark in this room for us to make out anything beyond vague shapes...”

“Hmm? Ah, so it is.” Lilia nonchalantly glanced around. “Silly me. I’ve become so accustomed to the layout of this room that navigating it is practically second nature. It looks like someone forgot to relight the candles after they were blown out last night.”

From deep within the darkness, a calm voice rang out.

“Please, allow me.”

At once, a warm neon green light burst forth, spilling over every corner and crevice of the room. Flames flared from the tens of candles littered in the lounge--on single candlesticks, on candelabras, on sconces--illuminating the room in an eerie emerald glow.

The students realized the lounge was divided into two wings: one elevated above the other, with two stairwells bridging them. On the lower wing was a fireplace, beautiful carpets laid upon the floor, luxurious leather furniture and finely polished tables for seating.

But on the upper wing? A throne, with a pair of massive stony wings splayed out, made all the more imposing by an intense violet backlight.

And there, seated in that throne, was a young man of regal face, large horns protruding from his head. His lips peeled back into a smirk as all eyes in the room fell upon him.

The anticipation was nearly palpable.

“Well now,” he purred, “quite a glittering assemblage we have here.”

“My liege.” Lilia immediately dropped to one knee. “I have returned with fresh blood.”

“Yes, from the entrance ceremony, I presume.” His brows slightly knitted together. “I really felt quite distressed at having not received an invitation. Such an awkward situation--but no matter. How kind of you to bring them to me.”

The horned young man raised a gloved hand, a quiet but confident stroke that made the green flames in the room burn brighter, grow hotter.

“I welcome you to Diasomnia, founded on the elegance of the Thorn Fairy.”

A chorus of gasps and strangled sounds escaped the first years. They all scrambled onto their knees, following Lilia’s example, heads bowed and eyes affixed to the ground so as to avoid a discerning reptilian gaze--and to hide their frightened faces.

The air was suddenly thin, too stale to gulp down.

Outside, thunder rumbled, and lightning tore the sky asunder. 

Ghostly chills ran down the mob students’ spines.

Lilia found himself grinning wider than ever. “Gentlemen, I present to you the crown prince of the Briar Valley, your dorm leader: Lord Malleus Draconia himself.”

“Kufufu~”

A certain vice dorm leader’s laughter reverberated in the hallways as he passed. Lilia practically bounced, surging ahead of his prince with a pep to his step.

“You gave the new students such a fright, Malleus! Spooked them straight. I’ll bet they won’t be able to properly dream for the first few days of class.” Lilia paused. “The exception may be Sebek. I’m almost certain he was so touched that he was on the brink of tears. His face was twisting in such funny ways, trying to contain himself!”

“Yes, it was a successful orientation,” Malleus agreed, his reply terse and lacking his vice dorm leader’s enthusiasm.

“Hmm? You don’t sound very happy about such a ‘successful’ orientation.” Lilia cocked his head, mouth pursing into a sly shape. “My, could it be that you’re still upset about the headmaster forgot to tell you the date and time for the entrance ceremony?”

“I am in no such mood.”

His pout implied otherwise.

“Oh, Malleus. You know you can’t hide your disappointment from me.” Lilia chuckled faintly. “That would explain all the gloom and doom and the stormy weather.”

Raising himself on his tip-toes, he leaned into Malleus’s ear and whispered, “... It’s alright to feel frustrated. Let it out.”

The fairy prince laughed. “Throwing a tantrum over such a trivial thing is not behavior befitting of a king. I was merely insulted at the insinuation that my presence was not important enough to be remembered—that is all.”

“I see.”

Both of them knew Lilia didn’t believe him, but he at least had the grace to know when to give up on challenging his liege.

“... I thank you again for serving as my liaison. It helps to have a friendly face to coax the first years in.”

“Come now, you’re too kind. I’m sure they would love to be personally escorted around by THE Malleus Draconia as well.”

“I would think they would... how did you put it? Be ‘scared straight’ rather than be welcomed,” he replied dryly, a slight hint of mischief in his eyes.

“Perhaps so~”

Malleus’s lips twisted into a wry smile—one of the few things someone of his status was allowed to do without many repercussions. Mild humor to hide the pain, to keep people from looking deeper, from suspecting something.

An unspoken rule of royalty, a mantra to keep himself sane... Conceal, don’t feel. Put on a show. Make one wrong move and they’d all know.

His faults, his flaws, cracks in the facade of a perfect prince—their strong and powerful leader. The immense loneliness that gripped him. All the anger and the sorrow he couldn’t outwardly express.

“Malleus.”

He suddenly felt two hands close on his cheeks, cupping his face. Lilia stared intently into his eyes, his words as solemn as his gaze.

“You wear your crown well, but do remember to not let its weight crush you.”

“I know.”

I know that more than anyone.

Because if he fell, so too would the ones looking to him.

“Good.”

Lilia released him, turning around in a twirl. “This is your youth, your schooling. You have every right to kick back, relax, and live a little! Why limit yourself to these drab castle walls when you can make NRC—no, the entire world—your castle?”

“You tease me with the prospect of world domination,” Malleus joked. “Don’t tempt me.”