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anon-e-miss · 1 year

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Shaping You - 7 Weaving Threads

“It’s okay!” Jazz caught Prowl in his arms before his humiliated consort could flee. “Ya didn’t forget yerself, Prowl. Ya fuelled, that’s all.”

“I made a porcineacon of myself,” Prowl counter. It broke Jazz’s spark to hear the self-hatred in his consort’s voice.

“Hardly,” he argued and stroked Prowl’s chevron. “Ya ate yer fill. No shame in that. The way yer armour’s cut, it don’t see like was meant to fuel at all.”

“Since I cannot help myself, it was designed to stop me from over indulging,” Prowl replied.

“Is takin’ more than three sip o’ energon o’er indulging?” Jazz asked.

“If it makes me grotesque?” Prowl asked as means of answer. “Yes.”

“Y’re not grotesque,” Jazz replied. “Yer gorgeous. Voluptuous. Every one o’ yer curves is perfection.”

“My curves are just brands of my excesses,” Prowl said, flicking his servo over his thigh with disgust. Jazz smoothed his servo up Prowl’s thigh. “What are your subjects going to think of me?”

“Remember, I told ya, we like our curves in Polyhex,” Jazz replied. He held Prowl’s servos and smiled at him. “They’re gonna be happy to see the Prince Consort is healthy ‘n fertile.”

“Fertile?” Prowl frowned.

“This,” Jazz said, cupping the curve low on Prowl’s belly, the evidence of their lovemaking. Prowl blushed a deep scarlet and Jazz kissed his cheekplate. “Is the sign o’ a fertile frame ‘n a productive bond. ‘M thinkin’ its playin’ a part in yer armour not closing.”

“Oh,” Prowl looked down at himself. “I do not believe I have seen this on any Praxian.”

“Probably ‘cause Praxian armour compacts it,” Jazz replied. “Don’t sound like a pleasant thing to me.”

“I cannot see your Aunt like this,” Prowl sighed. “I am indecent.”

“‘M gonna grab ya a sheet from the berth,” Jazz said. “‘N cover ya up. Won’t bother her, Prowl. Not even a little.”

It bothered Prowl. Jazz could see it and feel it. He went to the berthroom and stripped the top sheet off. When he returned, Jazz wrapped the sheet around Prowl, tying two corners below Prowl’s doorwings. The results were what Jazz would have imagined a witness of the nomadic tribe creating from memory, see receptive mates among the tribesmecha. The traditional wrappers his kinsmecha wore were made from fabrics with bright and intricate patterns. This sheet was more material than a wrapper was meant to have but more would probably make Prowl more comfortable anyways. In calor, Jazz would bring Prowl a proper wrapper and see if it suited him better than conventional armour in the hottest quartexes of the desert.

“What if it falls?” Prowl asked, arms crossed over his chassis.

“It won’t,” Jazz promised. “Y’re gonna find different types o’ wrappers ‘n kilts are common garb here, especially in calor. I learned to tie a wrapper from my ori, seen ‘m fight in one. The knots’ll hold.”

“You... go without armour?” Prowl asked, shocked.

“When it’s proper,” Jazz replied. There was a clear knock at the door. He rose from the couch. “Here she is. Don’t worry Prowl. She’s gonna like ya.”

“I hope so,” Prowl murmured.

“Auntie!” Jazz exclaimed as he opened the door. “Ya outdid yerself.”

“I tried my servo at some more recipes from Praxus,” Dipole explained. “‘N I got pressed energon for everyone. The cantine’s got yer consort’s brew. He likes it dark.”

“Ya ne’er waste yer time figurin’ how mecha like their press,” Jazz smiled. “Lemme take that tray from ya. Must weigh as much as ya.”

“I know you’ll insist,” Dipole replied. “Don’t go and drop it. I won’t ever let you forget.”

“Oh I know,” Jazz laughed. He turned back into the room and saw Prowl watching. “Come inside, Auntie. I wanna introduce ya to Prowl proper.”

“My pleasure,” the femme replied. “Dearspark, are you overheated again? I can get some ice energon for you.”

“Please don’t trouble yourself,” Prowl said, blushing sweetly. “My armour won’t close. I fuelled too much.”

“Ya did not,” Jazz gently corrected as he set the loaded tray on the low table in front of the couch Prowl was sitting on. “That torture device ain’t cut to fit ya. It’s the problem, not ya. Auntie Dipole, this is Prowl, my beautiful consort.”

“I know from my kitchen you like your pressed energon like the enforcers take it,” Dipole declared, pouring a mug for Prowl as Jazz sat down. “You never ordered anything else.”

“I should not have even had that,” Prowl said, taking the cup and smiling a little at the ominously dark fuel. “But my helmaches if I don’t have it. As it was, with just this, that armour barely fit.”

“That’s just cruel,” Dipole said. “Armour isn’t meant to be a punishment. I don’t know what your favourite fuels are yet so I brought a little of this and that to make sure you liked something. I haven’t made steamed lotus buns before. You let me know how what you think of them and I can play around with the recipe.”

“You did not need to trouble yourself for me,” Prowl said. Jazz placed one of the amber custard filled talc buns on a plate for Prowl and gave it to him. “Thank you. These are one of my favourites.”

“What else, Dearspark?” Dipole asked. “Everyone needs their favourites from time to time and they don’t always think to ask for them so I like to know, so I can make sure everyone is taken care of.”

“I like dumplings,” Prowl said. “From any culture. If you take dough and fill it with something, I like it. I have a weakness for rust sticks.”

“There’s a femme in town who makes the best sweets,” Dipole replied.

“Mirror is amazin’,” Jazz agreed. “There’s a line ‘round the block for her shop on Prima-tur.”

“What specifically about Prima-tur?” Prowl asked.

“She sets out trays of treats to sample,” Jazz explained. “Treats mecha on the roughside o’ life can’t afford. She makes sure everyone can have a treat.”

“That is very kind of her,” Prowl said.

At first, Prowl only nibbled at the fuel but Jazz could see Dipole was taking no offence. Prowl was embarrassed he could not fit his armour and nothing Jazz or Dipole or anyone could say would make that go away. But as they spoke, he relaxed a little and Dipole took advantage. She asked him his opinion on different flavours of different fuels and with this be of underhanded guidance, Prowl ate a proper meal. Jazz was relieved. It was more easily done by Dipole then him. He never wanted to see Prowl starve and deny himself again. His consort needed his energy and his vibrancy to help Jazz bring Polyhex back to prosperity. How could Prowl carry a bitlet for him if he was starved? No, they needed to get Prowl comfortable taking his fill of fuel. Ori would have no use for a consort who fainted whenever he was called to work and that was a battle Jazz did not want to fight.

“I’m thinking you have Hotwire coming by for an armour fitting?” Dipole asked.

“Yeah,” Jazz confirmed. He was on his second steamed lotus bun. The silky bun and sweet filling was one of his new favourite fuels. “Even if Prowl’s armour wasn’t out to crush’m, it’s ununtrium. Too heavy ‘n too hot for Polyhex. Don’t know how they didn’t know. They trade out here.”

“They knew,” Prowl replied. “I have no doubt. My originator insisted on ununtrium due to its value. They wished to showcase their wealth using me as their billboard.”

“‘M sorry, Prowl,” Jazz squeezed his servo. Prowl hardly even dipped his doorwings.

“It is an ostentatious waste,” Prowl sighed. “I never wore ununtrium at home. It would have been seen as tacky to wear such armour to the Hall of Justice.”

“What had ya at there?” Jazz asked.

“I was an attache to the Lord of Law,” Prowl explained. “It would have been unsightly of me to serve something as menial as the enforcers.”

“Did ya like it?” Jazz asked.

“Aspects,” Prowl replied. “I would not have dared where ununtrium there. Question of my professionalism due to how I was armoured came up often enough as it was.”

“What didn’t they like?” Jazz asked.

“Me,” Prowl replied. “My originator would come to me raving about some complaint. It did not matter what shape or style of armour I tried. Something about it was always indecent.”

“I think your originator had some frame image issues that he put onto you,” Dipole declared. “You could have be covered from knees to neck and he would found a reason to complain.”

“He did complain,” Prowl murmured. “When he inspected my bonding armour. He wanted it cut lower down my legs but the designer set it was not possible if I was to walk.”

“I don’t think I like that mech,” Dipole grumbled.

Auntie stayed for moral support as Hotwire arrived. They nibbled on the snacks she had brought with her as the detailer had Prowl try on a dozen or more different cuts of girdle and chestplate. It suited the shape of his legs to have the girdle cut high on his hips and would let him move freely and quickly. Jazz did not think Prowl appreciated the newfound mobility yet. The curve of his hips was traced to perfection with none of that ugly, extra padding to make Prowl look straight and shapeless. After much back and forth, they settled on an adjustable waist, set higher at the moment, to make Prowl more comfortable. It too hugged the voluptuous Praxian’s soft belly, rather than squishy it and Jazz liked the subtle display it did of his contributions to his consort. Prowl’s chestplate was entirely revamped. Gone was the flat, crushing plate and in its place was a bumper that hugged his wells and showed off his broad, strong shoulders and wide, proud doorwings. Together, they showed off Prowl’s beautifully lush hourglass shape.

“Are you sure this is acceptable?” Prowl asked after he and Jazz were finally left alone. Jazz nodded his helm.

“It’s armour fit for a prince’s consort,” he replied. Prowl was only wearing the mock up for now. Hotwire would use fine crystals for his headlights and accents. He would not look like a pauper’s consort but neither would he look like a greedy bride.

“There is no season where ununtrium armour is appropriate here?” Prowl asked.

“No,” Jazz replied. “It... ain’t just the weather it’s.... just ain’t somethin’ done here. Ununtrium is for medical use, for construction. It’s too valuable to waste on armour.”

“I am amazed I did not have oil thrown on me,” Prowl sighed.

“Hey,” Jazz held him at the shoulders and reassured his consort. “It ain’t like that.”

“I am sure it was for ones suffering from fuel insecurity,” Prowl replied. “To see a foreign title hunter garbed in precious metal bonding to their war hero prince.”

“Prowl,” Jazz sighed.

“It can be melted down,” Prowl said. “Can it not be? Would it be improper for me to donate the armour for the rebuilding efforts?”

“They’d be in awe o’ it,” Jazz replied. He hugged Prowl to him. “How about ya ‘n me take a tour ‘n we can see were the need is greatest. We can see where yer armour ‘n dowry can do the most good.”

“I would like that,” Prowl replied, relaxing into the embrace. “I want to help Polyhex. In every way I can. It is my home now. They are my mechanisms now.”

“Remember how ya said I wasn’t yer dream mech ‘cause yer dream mech was a humourless brute?” Jazz asked.

“Yes?”

“Darlin’, I can’t call ya my dream mech either,” Jazz replied. “I might o’ imagined a beauty, ‘n ya are. I might o’ imagined a savant, ‘n ya are. But I could not o’ imagined that Praxus would give me such a generous ‘n devoted angel for my consort.”

#shaping you #anon-e-miss writes #valveplug #arranged marriage #noble au #tf prowl #tf jazz #body image issues

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theprofessionalpromptmaker · 4 months

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Person A is an amateur necromancer who has a great amount of skill but not a lot of experience in their craft, and accidentally revived a handful of unhelpful zombie servants: Person B, gambler with a drinking problem; Person C, a deserter from the military with a sex addiction; and Person D, a very egocentric noble who is use to the finer things in life and often gets in fights with people they believe are rude or beneath them. The three have skills that make them fairly useful, but they keep spending all of Person A’s money they make as a renown necromancer and continue the vices of their old lives and Person A is frequently bailing them out of trouble.

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madmanwonder · 2 months

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Prompt

Crossover Fusion Medieval - Noble: Heir AU + Cyberpunk AU

Moka is a vampire heires considered to be married to Ventus but she denies any feelings for him. She doesn't love him... or so she claims. But when other heiresses like Kurumu and Mizore tries to use this to get the heir to marry them instead... well the vampire queen is not going to take this lightly.

Yasundere Meme

(Flirting) (Yandere) (Tsundere)

(Inner) Moka does not have feelings for Ventus. He was far too stupid and idealistic for her taste and even if she fit her type, she would not develop a feeling for the spiky-haired fool who was more bravado than wits.

"I can be a good wife to you Sir Ventus~" Kurumu the cyber-succubus flirted pressing her very endowed chest against the blushing cyber-warrior of the Light.

"Ignore the succubus. I, can be a better, more dutiful wife to you Sir Ventus." Mizore added in her ice-cold serene voice as she hugged the slim but strong arm, a smile on her pale face.

Moka stared at the cyber-succubus and the cyber-Yuki-onna flirting with Ven. Cause the light in her crimson-red eyes dims to dullness and her heart burns with the fire of extreme possessiveness as the vampire queen stomped toward to the trios with a murderous look on her beautiful sharp-featured face.

She was going to have new trophy to add to her collection...

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itsskoll · 1 year

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Noble AU be up on ye

#charlotte tiramisu #charlotte raisin #one piece #one piece oc #charlotte family #itsskoll art #rose belongs to a twit friend #noble au

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laniuchiha7 · 1 year

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Wait for Me

“Are you not enjoying yourself?” Sasuke whirls around to see the princess approaching, a shy smile on her lips and green eyes shimmering in the moonlight. They stand on the second-floor balcony, overlooking the East garden.

“I am, Your Highness. I only needed some air and wanted to collect my thoughts.” he replies.

“I’m glad to hear. I hope the people of Konoha have been kind to you thus far.” Sasuke only nods in response, making Sakura’s smile grow wider. “And please, as I’ve told you before, call me Sakura,” she says before turning her attention to the night sky.

Three weeks have passed since Sasuke came to the Land of Fire’s capital, and three weeks since he’s been taken in by the King and Queen. Coming to the Kingdom of Konoha under the guise of a traveler, even he couldn’t help but be enraptured by Sakura’s beauty, and overwhelming kindness and warmth. Conversing and spending more time with her only solidified his growing affections for her.

“For as much as I love parties and balls, I, too, find them suffocating at times,” she says, gaze never leaving the sky as she continues to speak. “This one more than others it seems.”

Gazing at the pink-haired princesses, Sasuke couldn’t help but notice the melancholic expression now painting her usual joyus features.

“Any particular reason?” However, based on the discussions he’s overheard tonight, he thinks he already knows the answer.

She sighs deeply, eyes lowering to the garden. “When I was a child, I imagined having this wonderful wedding alongside the love of my life. A handsome prince who would sweep me off my feet, and cherish me as much as I do him. Someone smart and protective, who only wants best for his people,” a small smirk forms on her lips. “Marriage for politics is not uncommon, as I’m sure you’re aware. My parents wed in order to bond the Land of Fire with the Land of Flowers. Even after learning of my betrothal to Prince Neji, I thought we could learn to love each other over time, although I suppose that was wishful thinking on my part.”

“You don’t love him?” Sasuke questions. From what he’s seen during his time in the palace, the young couple look like the perfect couple.

“Not for lack of trying,” she confesses. “But his heart already belongs to another.”

Following her line of sight, Sasuke sees two people having an intimate conversation in a private area of the garden, likely thinking no one would spot them. The guy he recognizes as Neji but the other, a woman with twin-buns, he doesn’t.

“TenTen works for the Hyuugas. From what I can tell, they’ve been in a secret relationship since before our engagement,” she informs him. “And to answer your earlier question, my upcoming nuptials was the topic of almost every conversation I had tonight. My soon-to-be loveless marriage. At least Neji and I have mutual respect towards each other, for which I’m grateful, but…”

“You’re not satisfied?” she hums in agreement.

“Something along those lines. I want him to be with the one he loves, and I want to be with someone who will love me.”

Would he be able to fill that void for her? Sasuke wonders. Could he make her as happy? If he came from a noble family, would they have met during one of her family’s infamous balls?

Once upon a time, the Uchiha name was well known across the lands, until a fateful night over 10-years ago, when Sasuke lost his whole family in a single night. In truth, Sasuke came to Konoha after learning someone fitting his elder brother’s description is staying in the kingdom.

The young princess happened to meet Sasuke after he saved her from a bear, earning her love in the process. When the King learned what happened, he invited the Uchiha to stay in the palace to show his gratitude.

While reserved and aloof when he first came to the kingdom, little by little Sakura broke down Sasuke’s barriers and wiggled her way into his heart.

However she believes he doesn’t feel the same way, although she knows it won’t make a difference since she’ll still have to marry Neji regardless.

“Sakura,” he says in a low tone, prompting Sakura to turn her head. Sasuke raises a hand to cup her face, brushing a calloused thumb across her smooth, soft skin, making the princess blush at the gesture.

She knows she should leave, that if someone were to catch them like this it will only cause trouble, yet Sakura can’t bring herself to care while she gets lost in his onyx irises, so full of desire. She wants this, she wants him, and now she knows he feels the same.

“Have you seen the princess? The queen is looking for her” One guard asks another from the ground-level. The voice stops both Sasuke and Sakura, just before their lips touch.

“No, but she cannot have gone far,” the other replies, and both return inside to continue their search.

Rationale returns to Sakura, and she steps out of Sasuke’s grasp and composes herself. “We should return to the party,” she drops her gaze, unable to look at him.

“Sakura –”

“It would be unfavorable if we were caught together, alone. We should part before someone finds us. I hope you enjoy the rest of the ball,” she turns to leave, but is caught by a strong hand on her wrist.

“Wait for me,” he tells her. Sakura turns her head and furrows her brows in confusion. “I…there’s something I must do. I came to Konoha in search of someone, and once I find them, once I make them atone for what they’ve done, we can be together.”

“It’s not so simple, Sasuke. I have a duty to my kingdom, my people. If I don’t marry Neji, his family may end our alliance,” she tries to pull away, but he only tightens his grip.

“I may not be a crowned prince, but I promise to cherish and protect you for as long as you’ll allow me.”

Sakura ponders for a moment, wondering if she could really run away with the man she’s fallen for. She doesn’t doubt Sasuke’s words, but can she leave her family and people behind for him? She thinks she might know the answer, but needs to consider every option before making a decision. Perhaps Neji will sympathize with her? She can only hope

“Can I think it over?” she asks. “It’s not that I don’t want to, but I need some time.”

The weight on Sasuke’s shoulders feels lighter with her response. “Yes, of course.” He lets go of her arm. “Thank you.”

She gives him a half smile, the same warmth returning to her cheeks as before. “Goodnight, Sasuke.” Turning around, Sakura walks away to return to the party.

Behind her, Sasuke tries to bite back a smile of his own. He came to Konoha with a clear goal in mind, and fell for the princess along the way.

#sasusaku #sasuke uchiha #sakura haruno #princess sakura #sssnippetaday #arranged marriage #noble au #kings and queens

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auideas · 2 years

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I've never once asked you to be 'noble' or 'righteous' -- you just have to be you, no matter who that person turns out to be.

The Never Book

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grismavessel · 2 years

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Noble Au - nobleman Ingo and servant Gris

NOBLE AU YOU SAY?

(I love your colors! And the little heart stitched on the back 💕 and Ingo in a fancy, puffy dress shirt💕💖 and Gris’s lil smile and the spiky bracelets I LOVE)

I’d imagine Ingo and Emmet being the sons of a really prestigious aristocrat, their noble status on par with their fierce Pokémon battling strength.

And Gris being hired as a last minute replacement to be Ingo’s personal servant. They were reluctant at first but the room and board was too good to pass up on.

And slowly, as the two interacted, they find themselves falling for one another, a bit of a forbidden romance since Ingo has to marry another noble to preserve the family’s reputation

AAAAHHHH I SWEAR AS SOON AS I GET DONE WOTH THE CURRENT FIC ITS NOBLE AU ALL THE WAY

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linderosse · 5 months

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She can relate 🥰

A followup to this TotK Zelda sketch.

< Prev | 8 | Next >

Masterpost

(Info: [SS] Sun gave up her consciousness for multiple millenia to recharge Demise’s seal. [TotK] Flora gave up her consciousness for multiple millennia to recharge the Master Sword.)

#wielders of wisdom #linked universe #lu flora #lu sun #lin draws #lu wielders of wisdom #creator content #totk fanart #totk #skyward sword #loz #zelda #zelda au #totk spoilers #gerudo town #noble pursuit :)#technically non-canon to the Wielders AU until I decide how to incorporate TotK #will also depend on how jojo does it #totk was great tho <3

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tapakah0 · 5 months

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Okay! I don't know where you got the idea from and my best guess is that your brain is connected to mine via bluetooth but.

Me and Hoddie have a royal au and your animation made me think of it again.

Nothing crazy special, but...ah...I should probably give a little context yeah...hmm.

Uh, okay. There's a kingdom. whose king and queen have died, leaving behind several possible heirs who are not their direct children. Right now, the king's first general is sitting on the throne, because the power of the army is, you know, a pretty powerful argument in a fight for the throne, right? This creepy regent is Cass. And Cass came to power thanks to Hoddie, who's basically the king's heir too, but she's pretty distant and her chances of the throne are quite slim. This has made her a professional rat and back stabber. The whole palace is busy weaving intrigue and destroying each other in a competition for power. Contests in cunning and sneakiness. A maximally intellectually uncomfortable environment in general.

Until Hoddie finds the true heiress. The king's blood daughter, to whom the throne should rightfully belong.

Problem? The problem is that the heiress needs to be two years older to be old enough to rule. And Hoddie and Cass' goal is to make sure she lives to that age in an environment where every other person wants to frame or kill her.

That heiress is you, Tap. But we couldn't think of what you'd look like in this au ahaha.

MHHMMM I SEE ONCE IN A WHILE BRAIN BLUETOOTH IS A GOOD THING you left me a window for my part and I grabbed this opportunity with sharp teeth Since there was no mention of my part, I have the audacity to add my own version. Did I understand correctly that my existence as an heiress was not known? It would be strange if the king was not looking for me, if I was the only heir (by blood), which means they were hoping for a new child, or already had plans for an indirect heir, or wanted to hide me. What other power is there, besides the king and the army, that holds the common people? Church. The king could have sent me to be trained as a priestess in order to gain support from them (either I was not considered worthy of receiving the throne in the future, which is why they preferred to hide me, or the king so badly needed their support that he was ready to sacrifice his only blood daughter) . Thus, from a young age, the beauty of a non-existent world somewhere beyond the heavens was drummed into my head and, in general, “God speaks all our actions.” I have an inconspicuous appearance, a position above a simple servant, but such priests are usually considered to be the daughters of high nobles, but not the king himself, which is why not everyone could know who I really was. Thus, they forgot about my existence ~ After the death of the king and all the heirs, the church quickly realized what to do next, and crushed me to itself, hiding me from the world until I reached the age of succession to the throne. (But children could take the throne under a regent. Could Hoodi become my regent as one of the older contenders for the throne?) So, back to the turmoil. Hoodie found me at church. Since childhood, my worldview could have changed greatly under the influence of the church, so, well, you will have to hammer a lot into my head, in addition to the throne’s education (You know... it's bit complicated to make a human sona not as a stupid little ball XDD... it literally can't get a shape at this point... maybe you will place a real bunny as the new king? It will be eating cabbage 24/7 and everyone will be happy)

#You know~ I'm sure you know that church isn't a very good place~#commoner servants or lowly noble servants do not dare to say a word against the nobles. (The laws are no better than in the kingdom itself)#Tapa saw some horrors in here~#I tried to make a look closer to the rabbit #but I guess it will be mostly about the way I behave #And sometimes the most beloved kind of hairstyle - rabbit looking one #But it's a bit complicated to get used to all these after strict rules of the church #Tapa #Cass #Hoddi #royal au #my little happiness

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ellecdc · 2 months

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Hi! I’ve never requested to anyone before, but I really love how you write Regulus. Could I request an arranged marriage with Regulus, where Regulus was head over heels for Reader at Hogwarts but kept her at arm’s length knowing he was bound to an arranged marriage? And him not knowing what to do now that they are finally married. With a calm and observant Reader. I hope it’s not too much trouble 😬😊Thank you!

such a sweet idea! thanks for your request!! I hope you do again 🫶

The Arranged Marriage of Regulus' Dreams

Regulus Black x fem!reader - arranged marriage (no Voldemort AU)

“You’re fucking with me.” Regulus hissed to Narcissa as he watched you and your parents walk through the door of 12 Grimmauld Place.

Narcissa smirked and nudged her younger cousin out into the hall. “Nope, now go on cousin, say hello to your fiancée.”

Regulus thought he was dreaming. No. Certainly he was dead. Would he have gotten into heaven though? Surely not. But if he wasn’t in heaven, then what were you doing here?!

“Mr. L/N, Mrs. L/N. Miss. L/N.” Walburga Black greeted the family as the Black family house Elf, Kreacher, took their outer robes.

“Ah, not Miss. L/N for much longer though.” Your father laughed as he jostled your shoulder a little too roughly, causing you to teeter slightly in your heels.

Regulus wanted to kill him.

“Of course! Tomorrow’s the big day, hm? The most important moment in a young woman’s life.” Orion Black proclaimed as he ushered everyone into the dining room. Regulus noticed your slight grimace at his father’s words, but your face softened as you made eye contact with him.

He smiled softly and bowed his head, taking your hand in his to place a chaste kiss to your knuckles – just like a proper pureblood heir ought to when meeting their betrothed.

Regulus had no idea it was you he was bound to marry.

Most noble and high-ranking pureblood families partook in arranged marriages. The heir of the family was the most important – most coveted. Regulus wasn’t always the heir – so his engagement wasn’t announced to him until his 5th year – the year that Sirius ran away from home.

The Black’s were readying their new heir; getting their affairs in order.

Regulus could admit that he didn’t really agree with everything his parents stood for. Sirius may have been able to escape his parent’s clutches, but Regulus wasn’t as lucky.

He found the idea of arranged marriage to be a little archaic, but he was nothing if not a loyal, devoted son. No matter how much it hurt.

No matter. Regulus understood his duty.

He had been crushing hard on this pretty witch in the year below him at Hogwarts for years, but he never felt confident enough to act on it. By the time he was confident enough to act on it – he’d been promised to someone else, so he never ended up pursuing it. What was the point of falling in love when you were bound to be married for business?

And here that witch was…with her parents…in his home…the evening before his wedding…as his bride.

No…certainly this was a prank. A joke. A stroke? He was dead. In heaven? Maybe this was his hell.

He must have been running on autopilot, because suddenly he was seated beside you at the formal dining room after he had tucked your chair in under you, listening to the adults the parents discuss business.

He didn’t feel much like an adult right now.

He felt like a prepubescent schoolboy with a crush.

How humiliating.

“So, Orion and I will be leaving tomorrow immediately after the wedding.” Walburga announced. “Regulus will be the official head of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black along with his wife Y/N, and we will leave the affairs to them.”

“What are your plans for after the wedding?” You father asked Walburga.

Regulus wanted to roll his eyes. Isn’t that the kind of question people are meant to ask the bride and groom?

“Where’s the honeymoon? What are your plans afterwards? Where will you be living? Do you plan on having kids?”

Regulus had to stop his train of thought – getting a little too excited thinking about his marriage…to you.

Surely he was dead. Surely.

“We have a few properties in France.” Orion interjected before Walburga continued.

“We’ll be residing in a vineyard in the South of France. Retirement will be good for Orion.”

“How lovely. You’re resigning from your position in the Wizengamot?” Your mother inquired.

You and Regulus shared a look and a shy smile before returning to your plates.

“Regulus will be overtaking my position in the courts, as well as the Black’s affairs in the Ministry. We donate a lot of money to keep that government running.” Orion stated proudly. Regulus fought the urge to grimace.

“It’s a good thing too – Salazar knows that place would be run by mudbloods and halfbreeds if we weren’t careful.” Walburga added.

Regulus had to hand it to you – the only sign you even heard his mother was the slight raising of your eyebrows before the returned to their rightful place above your eyes.

He was smitten.

“Well, our darling Y/N will be a wonderful addition to the Black legacy. She was top of her class, she’s a powerful witch, and loyal to her kind.” You father proclaimed, jostling your shoulder once again.

Regulus couldn’t help himself; he gently placed his hand on the same shoulder your father’s hand was and brushed it – effectively shooing your father’s hand away. He rubbed your shoulder consolingly before returning his gaze to the table.

But not before he caught Narcissa’s knowing smirk as she eyed the two of you.

“Marvellous. I think this will be a very wonderful match.” Walburga proclaimed.

Regulus didn’t often like agreeing with his mother – but he couldn’t help but feel the same.

The house was disturbingly quiet after the affairs that took place today.

The trip to the ministry to get your marriage license. Your ceremony on the grounds of Malfoy Manor, and the reception that here at 12 Grimmauld Place, where your image and name were added to the Black Family tapestry.

This is where Regulus found himself now, in the formal living room – hiding from you.

Not hiding from you.

Sort of hiding from you.

Regulus never grew up expecting much; at least not much of what he wanted. He lucked out getting to play quidditch, but everything else had been decided for him.

His house at Hogwarts was decided for him. His friends were decided for him. His marriage was decided for him.

But now that he had this? A marriage with you – the one witch he would have actually chosen for himself?

Well, he just didn’t know what to do with himself.

So, he was hiding in the formal living room, staring at the Black Family tapestry where your name and portrait was woven in beside his.

He had never felt this lucky before.

His eyes, as they often did, wandered over to the place where Sirius’ name and portrait had been blasted off some years ago.

Regulus got what he wanted in you… he only wished his brother had been there too.

This is how you found him, standing against the back of a settee with the sleeves of his button-down rolled up, shirt untucked and tie loosened.

“Oh, hi L/N…erm…” he trailed off awkwardly as you smiled kindly at him.

“I supposed you’ll have to call me by my name, now that we’re married.” You stated plainly as you moved to stand beside him to look at the tapestry.

“Did you know?” Regulus asked quietly after a few moments of silence.

“Know what?”

“Know that it was going to be me? That you were to be married to?” He clarified.

You shook your head in the negative. “I never bothered asking. Didn’t think there was much sense, seeing as there was nothing to be done about it.”

Regulus nodded in understanding. “Are you disappointed?”

“That it was you?” You asked. Regulus nodded. “Not at all.”

Regulus hoped his relief wasn’t as evident on his face as it felt.

You turned your head back to the tapestry before pulling your wand out and stepping towards it. You pointed it gently at the place Sirius’ name was and murmured something quietly.

Regulus watched in awe as the strands of the portrait stitched themselves back together, proudly displaying his big brother again.

“Is this alright?” you asked as you turned to observe him. He nodded dumbly as he swallowed against a painful lump in his throat. His eyes flitted to Andromeda’s burn mark.

“Do you mind doing that one too?” He asked quietly.

You smiled softly and turned back, repeating the spell until Andromeda’s name was once again displayed on the wall.

“The Black’s can be whoever you want them to be now, you know?” You murmured quietly, eyes intent on Regulus’ form.

“I’m happy with the newest addition, so far.” He admitted shyly, wishing he was bold enough to proclaim exactly what he thought of you.

You smiled bashfully, and Regulus delighted in the slight flush that coloured your cheeks. “What else should we do?”

Regulus thought for a moment before a devious grin grew across his face.

“I say we start by pulling the funding from the Ministry. What do you think, my dear wife?”

Your smile looked like it was trying to be as wicked as Regulus’, but you fell painfully short. Regulus doubted you could ever manage looking anything but sweet.

“Sound’s perfect, darling.”

Regulus was in heaven – surely.

#regulus black imagine #regulus black x reader #regulus black x you #regulus black #sirius and regulus #marauders au #marauders era #ask elle #reader insert #self insert #the ancient and most noble house of black #ellecdc fics

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therealmofamorus · 2 months

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Ask

Alpha Male Crossover Stud Medieval: Noble- Lord AU

Now that Shirou fucked Nami good... what would she say if Shirou tells her to wear a belly dancer outfit and shake her big tits for him?Would she do it and love it like her friend?

Nami no longer care about her crew or pride, all she wanted right now is to worship and please her Lord and Master.

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anon-e-miss · 1 year

Text

Ember

He did not doubt for a moment that Chromedome had intended every time to leave and ember in his spark, just as Prowl did not doubt that Chromedome’s neglect of the newspark, of his duties to contribute had been intentional as well. It was revenge, served chilled. When Chromedome had been called Tumbler, when he had been apprenticing in Praxus, he had admired Prowl but Prowl’s procreators had not given him leave to court their creation. Only after he had become king had they agreed not just to a courtship but to a political match. For that old slight, he punished Prowl and would have continued to until the end of time. It was a shame for Chromedome then that Prowl was not the sort of mech to linger and suffer without a fight.

He had known that the mnemosurgeon had found himself on the throne of Damaxus through an odd route. At some point he had been brought into the service of King Dominus Ambus. The king had died and his widow by a peculiar bit of law had inherited. Not long after, the widow, Queen and then King Rewind had bonded to Chromedome, much to the displeasure of much of the court. Again, not long after, Rewind had died. No one could say if Rewind had bonded to the mnemosurgeon by true choice or if the choice had been made at the tip of Chromedome’s needles. All Prowl knew was that in order to secure his position with wealth and arms, Chromedome had approached Prowl’s procreators for a bond and this time, they had humoured him.

“Down the hall, on your right,” Prowl told the soldiers who had thrown open his door, waving them away without so much as lifting his helm. A few moments later, Prowl heard shouting and his spark finally stilled. Since Barricade had written him, detailing Chromedome’s crimes beyond his cruelties to Prowl himself, and the plans of his bonded’s kinsmech to reclaim land that had once been held by their line. Was that high pitch shriek that of Chromedome’s current favourite? Prowl was not over worried. There would not be a slaughter, Barricade had promised him.

There was an ember on Prowl’s spark again, and he would find for it. Polyhexians came for him and with them carried armour to suit his new status. Prowl’s pride might have seen him refuse the scant armour but when he was informed that the deposed king would see him claimed by his new sovereign, Prowl stripped of his plane vestments and dressed in the fine, if scandalous armour he had been gifted. Not forged of metal, the armour was carved from crystals. He could not transform in it but there was no need for that in the moment. The girdle cut of translucent crystal covered Prowl’s array but hardly disguised his equipment. It was the same for his chestplate, the crystal was not opaque enough to high the shape and colour of his nozzles, nor the glow of his spark.

The spark Chromedome had abused from the beginning. He had taken the jewels that had come with Prowl’s dowry but also the royal jewels meant for his queen and had passed them around to this favourite and that. Chromedome had taken Prowl’s armour and gifted it to another leaving him in what amounted to rags. As his queen, Prowl had not been permitted to deny him and time and again, Chromedome had ordered Prowl to his berth and left him with an ember, only to dismiss him and ignore his responsibilities until the ember had faded. He had broken Prowl’s spark over and over.

Bracers inlaid with jewels were closed around his wrists and cuffs around his upper arms. Bangles around Prowl’s ankles jingled as he walked, as did the crystals dangling from the mesh sleeves over his doorwings. A cape of sheer linen fell from those sleeves and it matched the loincloth, its belt being made of metal inlaid with more gems that hug from his hips. Prowl could not imagine a courtesan in Praxus dressing like this but knowing those cost of the crystal used in the armour, Prowl could not think of a duke or even king whose armour was so costly. Luridness came with a high price tag.

Prowl might find the jingle as he walked annoying later but for now he heard it, felt it, as a symphony of victory. Those who had so readily bowed to Chromedome sat in the throne room on pretty cushions as Chromedome sat, bound, facing the throne he had stolen. On that throne was the mech who had in turn stolen it from him, a prince of Polyhex, twin to the prince who had taken Prowl’s brother for his consort. Did Barricade armour as Prowl did, or was this spectacle simply a means to further humiliate Chromedome? It did not matter, ultimately. Prowl walked past him with his helm up and back and doors straight and proud. There was little time left to secure the ember and had it not suited this prince to claim Prowl and it, he would have sought a guard or a dozen. The Praxian was exhausted by the losses.

“The true pearl in Damaxus’ crown,” Prince, now King Jazz, declared. He offered his servo to Prowl as the Praxian bowed at his peds. “My Queen doesn’t kneel.”

“My lord,” Prowl murmured as he stood. He stood only for a moment before his new liege pulled him onto his lap. Prowl made a little squeak and blushed as Jazz admired him.

“I don’t know how that fool coulda treated such a rare beauty with so much contempt,” Jazz declared as he held Prowl’s thigh and smiled up at him. “There’s not a mechanism in this court that could match ya.”

“Thank you,” Prowl replied. He felt more like a beauty that he often had in his life. Scandalous or no, the crystal armour made him feel ethereal. He saw the courtiers who had worn his treasures in watching in their rags and felt a petty thrill of justice.

“Y’ll rule wit me on this throne,” Jazz assured him. “‘N receive the honour ‘n care y’re due.”

“It would be my honour,” Prowl said.

He was sure Chromedome would have been cursing him, except he was gagged as well as bound to that chair. The Praxian sat, unresisting as his new king unclasped the crystal girdle from him and handed it to a courtier. Prowl gasped as his loincloth was pushed aside and his node and valve petals stroked. There was a little buzz, something from within those digits and Prowl moaned as his channel lubricate quickly under the soft touch. Jazz kissed and sucked the hollow of his throat as he pleasured Prowl with his digits. Soon, Prowl’s chestplate was also removed and he writhed a little in the new king’s lap as his new liege played with his nozzle. He took his time bringing Prowl to peace, only stilling his digits when Prowl overloaded with a soft cry.

“Ya see what ya threw away now, don’t ya?” Jazz asked as he turned a languid Prowl around on his lap, so that he was facing out. Prowl saw Chromedome’s panel had opened and his cruel king had overloaded as the king had cuckolded him on his throne. “Y’re gonna watch me claim yer queen, Murderous scum. Yer gonna watch me claim yer ember. It’s gonna be the last thing ya see.”

“Oh!” Prowl gasped as he felt his new liege’s spike press against his swollen folds. He saw Chromedome’s optics bulge as the Polyhexian slowly brought his stolen queen down on his turgid spike. “Ah!”

Prowl brought his servo to his valve to feel the way his valve petals spread taunt around the Polyhexian’s girth. His node ached with charge and Prowl stroked it frantically. Above his valve, Prowl’s plugged spike twitched, in an odd way milking the crystal plug that had been lodged in it. Jazz purred against Prowl’s doorwings as he held him by well and hip and impaled him fully on his spike. Prowl squealed as the great spike cleaved through his gestational tank and flushed scarlet as he saw every optic in the room trained on him. He felt it descending the plating of his lower belly and moaned all but deliriously. Not a drop would be wasted with his new liege overloaded in him. All would go to the ember and give it the life it deserved.

“Ride me, My Queen,” Jazz ordered as he fondled Prowl’s hips and wells. “Take what yer ember needs.”

Spurred by lust and maternal need, Prowl forgot his embarrassment and rode his new liege with vigor. His wells bounced and slapped his chassis, echoing around the room along with the filthy squelches and clangs as Prowl’s array struck Jazz’s lap. He could feel Jazz’s lustful groans against his crystal covered doorwing and they bade Prowl rock and grind on the other’s spike as his channel strained around it. Jazz nipped his doorwing as he seized Prowl’s well and hip and thrust up hard, making Prowl shake in his lap as he was publicly claimed in front of the whole court. Prowl’s jaw hung open as his optics glazed over. Cries of lust were punched from his vocalizer as he gestational tank was battered and then flooded.

“Oh, oh,” he cried as he felt Jazz’s overload fill his gestational tank. He squeaked and squealed as his belly began to round out. The Polyhexian had transfluid stores like no lover Prowl had ever taken. As Prowl sagged in his hold, Jazz sighed with contentment.

“A few overloads like that outta do,” Jazz declared.

“Oo?” Prowl asked unintelligibly. A few overloads? “Ahh. Oh!”

Jazz folded Prowl over the arm of the throne as he fragged him from behind. Prowl squealed and cried as he was hollowed out on his liege’s spike. Lubricants and transfluids trailed down his legs as his gestational tank could not take another drop. Above Prowl’s slack valve petals, his sheath gaped, the plug gone and Jazz’s transfluids oozed from it. More transfluids stained Prowl’s face as it was pressed against the seat of the throne as Jazz reamed his aft, claiming this last piece of him. Chromedome sat in a puddle of his own transfluids, lubricants and energon. His needles now plugged his spike. A large mech stood behind him as he pleaded through the gag for mercy. Blaster, the cassette-carrier who had created Rewind showed him none as he stabbed the last of Chromedome’s broken needles into the mnemosurgeon’s processor.

Though Prowl had thought Jazz comment that they would rule on this throne together had been a figure of speech, the Polyhexian king proved to mean it. They ruled on the shared throne, though Prowl said less given it was difficult to speak or thing coherently while skewered on the King’s spike. His belly was large now, round with not one but three newsparks who had split off from that ember. Jazz kept his frame so achingly of transfluids that a new ember had formed on Prowl’s spark despite his forge being swollen with triplets. The medic called it superfecundation. Jazz had seen to it that it did not fade, insisting that he would not stand by as Prowl suffered another loss. Now there were small protosparks orbiting Prowl’s spark. If they remained or faded was in nature’s servos. If they remained, Prowl’s frame would immediately begin forging their spark chambers in preparation for their descent into his belly as soon as he gave emergence.

By the time Barricade was able to visit, with his own carryings complicated attempts to travel, Prowl had five bitlets and another three in his forge and Barricade was newly delivered of his third set of twins. It seemed to Prowl like Jazz was trying to give him twins or triplets for every ember he had lost to Chromedome. If this was the case, Prowl would have many creations before his spark ignited no more. As he sat in the garden with Barricade, they nursed their bitlets and shared their joyous exhaustion. It was here and how Prowl learned that Polyhexians never sired less than Twins. Over the vorns, he would fill every room which had at one time held the by-blows of not just queens but concubines. He was carrying another set of twins when his eldest mechlings announced they had ensparked their lover, the court medic. Ratchet had blanched when Prowl had reminded him Polyhexians only ensparked in their mates twins. The medic had wide hips and a sturdy frame however and Prowl thought he would manage.

#valveplug #maccadams #ember #noble au #one shot #tf prowl #tf jazz #weird revenge is weird #this is smut let's not read into it too deeply.

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