#BOTH TURNED INTO MONSTERS AGAINST THEIR WILL | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

somepsychopomp · 23 hours ago

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contemplating a particularly evil AU where, after Odysseus escapes from Poseidon the first time, our favorite problematic god decides to set his sights upon Ithaca in order to get his revenge.

He doesn't raise the tides to drown all the inhabitants or cause earthquakes to break the island apart, no. Poseidon directly seeks out sweet little 10 y/old Telemachus...

and befriends him.

(Ody really shouldn't have doxxed himself with this one)

It starts with Poseidon disguising himself as a mortal man and infiltrating the palace, knowing that Odysseus was blown across the sea and is still struggling to get home. He claims to be a wise man taught in Athens, and is willing to offer his tutelage to Ithaca's prince. Though it irks him a bit to pose as a scholar from the city he lost to his niece, Poseidon convinces Penelope to let him take over the position of her son's tutor in all necessary subjects: reading, oratory, history (which will be easy, seeing as Poseidon lived through all of it himself), etc.

Telemachus is shy at first, but warms up to his new tutor quite quickly. [insert Poseidon's fake name] is not like the stuffy old men that Penelope first assigned to Telemachus' education. He's patient, doesn't reprimand the young prince when he falters, and rewards him for doing well with sweet treats and fantastical stories about faraway lands and monsters.

After earning the lad's trust, Poseidon approaches Penelope and says it's not right that such a bright boy like Telemachus isn't also taught in other aspects of manhood. He asks to take Telemachus out for his first hunt, to which she reluctantly agrees. (Penelope knows that her husband slew an adult boar when he was Telemachus' age so yeah)

Telemachus is both excited and nervous to be outside the palace without any guards or his mother. He asks how Poseidon knows to hunt and he laughs, saying that just because he's a scholar, doesn't mean he isn't also an athlete and a warrior.

Telemachus takes the bait, asking what competitions Poseidon won, who he beat, etc. He's regaled with entirely false tales of wrestling matches, chariot races, and spear throwing contests, as well as stories of successful hunts for bears and wolves.

It's truly the perfect opportunity to strike. The two of them are alone in the woods with no one else around, no one who would hear the prince scream as he was torn asunder. No one to find his bones...

"Do it," Poseidon says quickly, "Strike now."

At the behest of his teacher, Telemachus draws his bow and fires at the young deer upwind from them. The arrow hits the creature in the flank and it darts into the foliage. No time to praise the prince for his aim, Poseidon leads him uphill, showing the boy how to track injured prey. He's armed with a bow he never intended on using and a spear designed for hunting, as similar of a weapon to his trident as he can get.

Poseidon catches a glimpse of movement through the trees and throws his spear. It strikes the deer in the neck, felling it instantly. That night under the stars, the two of them feast on roasted venison over a roaring campfire. Poseidon insists that he couldn't have done it without his pupil, that Telemachus injuring the deer was what brought about its downfall.

Telemachus is beaming with joy, so excited to have gotten his first kill, when he suddenly turns withdrawn and shy. Poseidon asks what's wrong.

"It's just that... I always hoped I would go on my first hunt with my father..."

Poseidon pulls the boy against his side as Telemachus sniffles and tries to suppress his tears. Poseidon hushes him and says that while he can't speak for the king, he's certainly proud of his pupil!

"But do you think he'll be back soon?" Telemachus asks. Poseidon smiles and says only the gods would know. But for now, Telemachus should be proud of himself.

Penelope is pleased to find her son in one piece when he returns. He shows her the pelt from his first hunt and she assures him she's very impressed. What really matters to her is that Telemachus is safe and growing as a boy should- learning the useful skills he'll need as a man and a future king.

From then on, Poseidon has much more leeway with how he spends his time with the prince. They go to the beach so Telemachus learns how to swim, fish, and sail. He learns how to tame a horse and gain its trust, etc.

It's a nice way to pass the time, waiting.

Eventually, news turns up that every fleet from Troy arrived home, except for Odysseus'. No other king knows where he and his 600-person army vanished to. No one knows where he is, or when he'll return.

Penelope is saddened by this revelation, but knows her husband well and refuses to believe that Odysseus of Ithaca perished in something as simple as a rogue storm. Telemachus is heartbroken, though. He's just a boy and after having heard that nearby kingdoms received their men after ten long years, he got all his hopes up that he'd finally get to meet his father.

His mother tries to console him, to tell Telemachus not to give up hope. Odysseus is out there, somewhere. But her son is inconsolable until Poseidon gently asks Penelope if he can speak to him.

Poseidon tells Telemachus that sometimes things happen for a reason. Was this the will of some god, perhaps?

Telemachus doesn't know how to respond, but sniffles and asks if he did something wrong. If it's his fault his father isn't home. Poseidon hugs him tight and says it's not his fault at all! No, if anything, perhaps Odysseus' silver tongue got him in trouble, or that this delay in his' return is only a temporary misfortune. Perhaps it'll lead to greater things down the line. Telemachus doesn't really understand, but he begins to calm down after hearing both his mother & tutor tell him that things will be alright.

In the meantime, Telemachus wants to become someone that his father would be proud of. He asks Poseidon to train him even harder and help him grow into a great warrior.

Poseidon accepts and the two of them grow even closer.

Not long after, the first of the suitors arrive. They're the sons of local noblemen or other prominent families in Ithaca. For a while, the queen offers them hospitality without suspecting much, thinking that the gifts the men offer are condolences for her husband's late arrival. Then they start trying to woo her.

The suitors start harassing Telemachus, too. They see him as an obvious threat to the power they could steal for themselves. Odysseus was crowned the king at the age of 13 and the same could happen to Telemachus if Penelope declines to remarry. All of a sudden as more and more suitors invade his palace, Telemachus finds himself unwelcome in his own home. The suitors do not let him eat near them- they'll go as far as to snatch his food. They leer at him, call him small, and taunt him by saying he'll never be king.

Telemachus thinks there's nothing he can do to fight back, but then Poseidon steps in and tells the suitors to cease their unruly behavior. They gang up on Poseidon, who they perceive as an unimpressive middle aged man, before getting their asses handed to them by a middled aged man who knows how to wield a spear as though he was born for it.

Telemachus has never seen something so amazing before. His teacher defeated a dozen men alone! How is that even possible?

Poseidon doesn't answer him directly, only saying he's gotten into his own fair share of fights before. When news of the brawl reaches Penelope, she decides that Poseidon should be promoted to Telemachus' guardian until Odysseus returns, fulling both the role of tutor & protector. She won't have her only child be bullied and menaced by grown men, not in her halls.

It is at this point that Poseidon pulls out his greatest trick yet. And that is to tell the truth. For months now, he's been posing as a kindly old teacher. But in secret, he reveals himself to Telemachus as the god of the sea!

Poseidon claims he heard the boy pray for his father's return and came to him in disguise. (Poseidon didn't even know who Telemachus was until Ody pissed him off, but he was willing to bet that such a naive child would certainly pray for his absent daddy to return. And he was right.)

Poseidon warns that Odysseus is not who Telemachus thinks he is. He might have been a kind and gentle man before, but he turned into a merciless, vain monster who allowed over 500 of his men to perish because he was arrogant enough to think he could lead them through a terrible storm.

Telemachus can hardly believe it- he doesn't want to. He won't! His mother always told him that his father was the most clever man of all, trained by Athena herself.

"Ah," Poseidon says, his voice full of sympathy, "And what does Athena know of love? Of mercy? No, no, my poor boy. You've been misled. Your father is not the man you think he is, for he blinded my own son just so he could steal some livestock!"

Telemachus’ mind is racing. He doesn’t know what to think. Who is his father, really?

Trembling from head to toe in fear, he asks if Poseidon will punish him as vengeance for his own son.

And the earthshaker will smile at him, oh so softly.

“My poor child, why would I do that? You father has flung himself to the farthest reaches of the sea, but I am here for you. I’ve come to answer your prayers, to set things right between your house and mine.”

Poseidon cups Telemachus’ face and leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to the boy’s head. “And should your father ever arrive on this isle, I will keep you safe from him.”

(And so Telemachus will grow up unsure of the man his father really is, all while struggling to see Poseidon as anything but)

#epic the musical #epic poseidon #epic telemachus #epic odysseus #odysseus of ithaca #penelope of ithaca #Odysseus shows up after 20 years: where’s my fucking son #poseidon: I think you mean MY son teehee #Telemachus: *has an identity crisis*

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bomber-grl · 2 days ago

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Percy Jackson x Child of Hera 🦚

Pairing(s): Percy Jackson x Gn!Reader

The first thought Percy has is just trying to figure out how you even came to be. It’s nothing like Athena, where her kids pop out of her head fully formed. No, for you to exist, there has to be a human involved—because, well, it takes two to tango. Plus, Athena’s whole thing is marriage and loyalty, so the idea of a glowing mark appearing above anyone’s head at camp—especially one that’s never appeared before—raises a lot of eyebrows.

Naturally, drama follows. There’s also some confusion among Percy and the other campers. In both Greek Mythology and Percy’s life, Hera has been an antagonistic figure. And he’s not the only one with strong feelings about her. You’re guided to the Big House where Chiron and Mr. D discuss your existence while some nymphs clean out the Hera Cabin. The fact that “Hera Cabin” doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue should be proof enough that you probably shouldn’t exist.

Percy and Annabeth are there too and overhear the conversation. After some heated discussions, it’s decided that you’re a demigod (after much deliberation), and since you are, Chiron says you’re welcome at camp. Not everyone’s thrilled about it, though, and even Percy thinks it’s pretty unfair. Sure, your mom is probably the worst godly parent ever, but it’s not like you had any say in that. (Not that any of the other gods are any better, but still.)

Though you’re not exactly being embraced by everyone, some see you as a bit of a curiosity. Hera doesn’t have any powers that stand out, so no one knows what to expect from her potential demigod kids. Safe to say, you become a bit of a project and gain some attention—not always the good kind—and you’re quickly becoming well-known for not being too different from your mom in some aspects.

During a Capture the Flag game, your powers first show themselves. You’re ganged up on by a group of Ares kids, who Percy knows to be pretty close to each other. He figures you’re in serious trouble since – much like his first time participating in Capture the Flag, he wasn’t really mentally prepared– but then something weird happens. One Ares kid randomly notices the sibling on her right is wearing her favorite anklet—totally out of nowhere—and then, they both blow up in each other’s faces. The third one tries to break it up, but instead, they all turn on each other, leaving you the perfect opportunity to sneak away.

This keeps happening, and after a while, Percy finally starts to put two and two together. Annabeth, of course, is impressed by how long it took him to figure it out, and Grover had picked up on it a while ago. Turns out, you have the ability to influence people’s relationships, pulling out little resentments and using them to your advantage. You don’t just break up friendships—you mess with their bonds to get the upper hand.

Percy’s always liked his powers, but after watching you, he can’t help but sort of be jealous of yours. Then, realized this implied he wanted to be Hera's spawn ( not that being a big fat target of a Poseidon kid for monsters was any better.)

Soon, more powers started to emerge, and it was almost like waiting each Wednesday for an episode of your favorite show to air. First, there’s healing—or maybe protection? It’s hard to tell. Both? It happens during a training duel when you and a close demigod friend are sparring against another duo. Percy’s time at camp was always spent rushing around, but this time, he actually stopped to watch. It doesn’t take long for him to realize that you’re getting totally wrecked—like, it’s not even fun to watch anymore. Your ally’s shield disappears when one of the enemies strikes, and a sword is about to make contact with your friend. Quite literally almost drawing blood. Time seems to slow, but then he and likely the rest of the onlookers are pulled out of the trance. There you are, your wounds healing at an incredible rate, and even your friend’s injuries are disappearing too. The most impressive part? There’s an invisible barrier stopping the sword from going any further. You were kneeling in front of your somewhat fallen friend, shielding them from your opponent while drawing strength from it (rather your bond)

It ended in a draw, which Percy thought was total buttcheek. He doesn’t really care about it at the time, though. That opinion doesn’t become important until much later—when you two are already dating. I know, a big leap, but stick with me. It wasn’t long after the day you completely owned those arrogant Ares kids—fair and square—that they started scheming for revenge. They always did.

It’s late in the afternoon at Camp Half-Blood, the kind of quiet time when most campers are either training or lounging around the mess hall. Percy’s leaning against a tree, thinking of a way to tell Sally about what he’s been up to without worrying her out. He’s been on edge all day. The rumors about you—the one with the strange powers—have been flying around camp like wildfire. Some are saying you’ve got the ability to manipulate emotions, others think you can control the weather. Either way, no one knows exactly what you’re capable of, and that makes people uncomfortable.

Suddenly, the camp’s usual peace is interrupted by the sound of shouting—definitely not a good kind of shouting. Percy glances up and sees a group of Ares kids marching toward the training field, and standing in the middle of the group is you. You’re being dragged along, and your usual expression—slightly aloof, like you’re just there to observe—has been replaced with a look of annoyance.

Percy doesn’t have to guess what’s going on. The Ares kids have probably targeted you again, just like they did during Capture the Flag. He can already hear their more than lacking insults, Each one less cutting than the last. They don’t know how to deal with the idea of a demigod child of Hera showing up and making waves. Honestly, they’d probably prefer you were just a myth. Especially after you kicked their asses.

Without thinking, Percy jogs over to where the group is gathering. His first instinct is to stop the bullying, but as he gets closer, he sees something that gives him pause: you’re not fighting back, but you’re not backing down either. Instead, your eyes are focused on the ground as the Ares kids get closer, like you’re silently waiting for something.

Percy slows his pace as he gets within earshot. He’s not sure what’s going on, but he can tell something’s about to happen. It’s when one of the Ares kids, who Percy knows can be particularly nasty—steps too close to you, then it happens. Without warning, the person stops mid-sentence, his face a mix of confusion and... fear?

The others don’t notice at first, but Percy sees it clearly— his grip on his spear loosens, and he stumbles back, like he’s been punched in the gut. Then another Ares kid, this time a girl named, turns on her heel and starts yelling at him, her voice rising in anger. One by one, they start turning on each other, their camaraderie unraveling as small but vicious arguments break out among them.

It’s like they’ve all been possessed by their worst insecurities, and Percy can’t help but realize—this is what you can do. You’re pulling on the threads of their relationships, turning them against each other without even lifting a finger.

Before it gets too out of hand, Percy steps forward, his voice a little louder than usual. “Hey!” he calls out, making the group freeze. They turn to him, a mix of annoyance and confusion on their faces, but Percy ignores them and looks directly at you. “What’s going on here?”

You glance at him, your expression unreadable, but there’s a slight quirk on your lips. “You don’t know?” you say, almost too casually for the situation. “I just helped them... work out their issues.”

Percy raises an eyebrow, not sure if he should be impressed or worried. “That’s one way to do it, I guess.”

The Ares kids, now looking like they’ve completely lost their unity, begin to scatter. Percy watches them go, then turns his attention back to you. “You know,” he says, taking a few steps closer, “that was pretty impressive. And a little terrifying.”

You shrug, your nonchalance making Percy feel both confused and intrigued. “It’s not like I asked for it,” you reply. “It just... happens.”

He studies you for a moment. “Again?” He can’t help but grin slightly. “Can’t say I didn't see that coming.”

You meet his gaze, your eyes sharper than he expected. “Neither did I.”

Percy didn’t stick around camp as often as he could have, but every time he did, the two of you grew closer. Honestly, it got to the point where you both developed feelings for each other. It was a little weird for Percy to think of Hera as a mother-in-law, and on the flip side, you were more than happy to have Sally as yours. You two got along really well, and like Percy, she never held anything against you just because of who your mom is—or how, you know, terrible Hera can be. Percy was honestly just relieved that two of his favorite people got along so well.

But, on the other end? Well, that was a whole mess. Pardon my language, but it was absolute dog shit. While you were still figuring out how to balance your relationship with Percy, Hera kept a very watchful eye on you. There’s a definite possibility that she doesn't approve of him. Not to rule out her approving of him and giving you her support—though if that’s the case, it definitely creeps Percy out. It makes him question whether there’s something he’s missing or if she’s just being her usual irritating self.

And speaking of, Percy can’t believe he ever thought you might be like Hera, just because you were a little manipulative at times. I mean, really—it was just your power. It had nothing to do with your actual personality. And when the truth about how you came to be finally came to light? It was a major turning point. Likely figured out with a –one long and exhausting quest that helped you two get closer than ever– later.

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mommybard · 2 days ago

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You know, this is why people don't like you damn heroes.

Breaking into my castle at this ungodly hour. Did no one teach you how to send a letter requesting an audience? Or how to tell time? Or even how to simply knock? Nooo, instead you have to kick down the door and start shouting demands, interrupting my night. Shame too, I was going to see if I could hilt that little royal tonight.

Now then, what are you on about? Surrender? To you? Oh, that's just too precious. Let me guess, you heard all those fairy tales about the valiant knight who goes on a quest to save the royal captured by the monstrous villain. All the fables about the heroes vanquishing evil, single handedly saving kingdoms, restoring the crown to its rightful owner!

I mean, don't get me wrong. When you're young, those stories are fun and inspiring. But as you get older...well, other stories start to pique your interest more.

The brave villager rushing to the woods to save the town from the monster who lives there, just to be hunted for sport and broken by its knot. The knight who fights valiantly for their royals honor, but gets captured by the enemy and turned into their breeding bitch. The hero who rushes into the villain's castle at an unreasonable hour and...well, we're in the middle of that one~

Little knight, let me tell you how this is going to go. You have three options before you, that I am quite graciously allowing you. You can turn around and leave this castle. Knowing, of course, that you failed your quest but you get to keep your sanity and body in tact!

You can try to fight me. Cant say I'd recommend that one after seeing you though. So small next to me...really I swear I could lift you and pin you to the wall with one hand. You might be quick enough to get a few good slashes in, sure. But we both know you're going to end up overpowered, panting for breath, on your knees before me with your own blade pressed against your neck.

Can't say I'll be very merciful at that point. The things I'd have to do to you as punishment for daring to lift your blade against me. Though...mmm, could be fun.

Watching you struggling to fight back as I lift you by your throat and tear away your armor. Seeing just how long that defiant look in your eye remains when I'm dragging my blade down your body and cutting off your clothing beneath. Those vicious snarls of yours turning into panicked whimpers and pleas for mercy when I slam my cock down against your stomach so you can see just how deep inside you it'll go.

And it will fit sweetie, don't you worry about that. No matter how long I have to train your body, no matter how rough or vicious I need to be. I WILL make sure you take each and every inch of it, until your holes are perfectly reshaped to handle it. Even if I have to use your pathetic tears as lube to help me out~

Then, of course, there is your third option. You toss your sword away. You fall to your knees. And you surrender to me~

I do mean fully surrender by the way. Your body. Your mind. Your soul. All mine from that point. To do with as I please.

For example, rewriting your thoughts, erasing any stray ideas of rebelling or escaping and instead replacing them with happier ones. Like how good it would feel to have my cock draped over your face, still slick from the royal's holes, getting to drown in the scent and taste. Correcting any feelings of worry or concern for what your life was like before with utter and complete devotion to your new ruler~

Reshaping your body as I see fit. Giving you proper breeding hips, perfectly to squeeze and hold as I drag you up and down my shaft, using you like an oversized fleshlight. Forcing your sex drive up while taking away your ability to cum, just to see how long you'll try to masturbate before begging me for help. Playing with your shape to find something that perfectly suits that inner slut trapped deep down inside.

Well then, "hero", what choice are you gonna go with~?

#nsft post

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ameidala · 2 days ago

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Monster Among Men

You pray for salvation—only to awaken something far darker. Now, as his love turns to obsession and the shadows whisper your name, you must ask yourself, which fate is worse?

tags: smutty, rated 18+ extreme non-consensual themes, dark!thomas hutter, manipulation, breeding kink, possessive thomas, nosferatu (2024)

word count: 7,700+

this was self indulgent. i love this man so much and there was an extreme drought in fics about him! i might consider writing one or a few more fics if u guys are up for sending dark thomas requests! :)

Fate had a strange way of revealing itself—not in grand gestures, but in the quiet offer of a warm hand on a rain-swept night. It was not the storm that chilled you then, but the thought of how easily a single moment could change the course of a life. He was, in every sense, the love of your life, and you could swear that love had taken root the very moment your eyes first met. It had been a night of relentless storm, the heavens split open with rain, and you, shivering beneath the narrow shelter of an alley’s eaves, had all but resigned yourself to the cold.

Then came him. A man of uncommon kindness, he had not hesitated—upon seeing your drenched and trembling form—to offer you refuge. With a voice steady yet gentle, he beckoned you inside, the flickering lantern in his hand casting golden light against the darkness. His was a heart unburdened by hesitation, unclouded by selfishness. And in that moment, as the thunder roared beyond the walls that now sheltered you both, you knew your fate had been sealed… or so you thought.

He had not only offered shelter and a warm bed, but also a drink that thawed the chill of your bones and a change of clothes to rid you of the soaked, clinging fabric. His kindness extended beyond what you’d expected from a stranger. His voice, like a balm, whispered, “You seem to have lost your way in the rain, Madam. Might I offer my assistance to see you safely home come morning?”

From that moment on, you found yourself drawn to the man in ways that you couldn’t really describe why. It wasn’t just his kindness or the warmth of his voice. There was a connection between it that felt like it was reaching deeper, as though his presence had quietly begun to fill the spaces you hadn’t realized were empty.

Yet, as the first light of dawn crept through the window, the reality of the morning settled upon you. The storm had passed, and with it, the fleeting shelter of the night. It was time to return home.

But before you could gather your things, Thomas greeted you once more with a soft, warm smile. His voice was gentle, almost a whisper, as he spoke, "Would you care for something to eat before you head out?"

You glanced down at the modest table a few meters from you, where there prepared some simple provisions from the man. It included bread, fresh fruit, and a pot of warm tea—nothing extravagant, but enough to make you grateful. "I’m sorry it’s nothing grand," he continued, his eyes meeting yours with a glint of sincerity, "but I couldn’t bear the thought of a beautiful woman leaving without something to sustain her."

His words, though simple, sent a flush to your cheeks, his compliment lingering in the quiet space between you.

"I...I also failed to introduce myself properly," he added with a slight chuckle, as if embarrassed by his own forgetfulness. "Where are my manners? My name is Thomas…"

Thomas seemed to choke on his words at first, as if hesitant to let them pass his lips. But after a brief pause, he finally gathered his courage and, in a voice soft yet sincere, murmured, “Pray, allow me the courtesy of knowing your name?”

You gave a smile, appreciating the quiet efforts the young man had made throughout the night and up until this present moment. His kindness, gentle yet unwavering, spoke volumes—he surely knew how to treat a woman, or perhaps it was simply the way he treated every guest. You didn't want to assume anything more, as perhaps his mother had merely raised a kind gentleman who extended his hospitality to all. Still, his attentiveness lingered with you, and you couldn't help but feel a certain warmth in your chest as you spoke your name and offered your thanks.

The day wore on, and soon he helped you return home. He didn't offer to walk you the entire way, yet there was a certain gravity to his steps, as if he could sense the uncertainty in your heart. “I’ll accompany you to the edge of the town,”he’d said softly, his words almost as if he were offering more than a simple escort—he was providing the comfort of knowing someone cared. His pace was measured, slow, as though mindful of the rough cobblestones beneath your feet and the distance between the world you both occupied. When you reached the edge of town, the mist from the river lingering in the air, he nodded politely, his eyes briefly meeting yours with something that resembled understanding.

"Take care of yourself, Madam," he had said, his voice quiet yet sure, before retreating back into the shadows of the city.

But that would not be the last you would see of his presence.

From that moment on, you found yourself wandering the old, dim-lit streets more frequently, seeking out the winding alleys, the familiar corners where you might catch another glimpse of him. Perhaps it was the pull of hope, or maybe the loneliness that clung to you like the mist, but you found yourself more drawn to the quiet places of the city. You didn’t have much else—only the promise of those stolen moments with him.

It wasn’t a conscious decision to look for him, but more of an instinct, a silent hope that fate would nudge you together once more.

As the days passed, the rhythm of your life returned to its usual pace—slow, almost mechanical. The streets were familiar, yet they seemed to close in on you more each day, as if the world itself had grown narrower with time. There was a quiet repetition to your life now, but the emptiness lingered like the shadows in the alleys you walked. It was in these moments, when the bustling sounds of the town became distant, that your thoughts returned to the past—back to the orphanage, to those early years when you were sheltered from the harshness of the world.

No one ever had to tell you what to do there. You had learned to survive on your own, to blend into ordinary life, to anticipate needs and stay out of the way. You often felt as though you were one step behind, always catching up with the others who seemed so sure of themselves, their places in the world. There was a hint of envy in you towards those people.

The orphanage had been a place of warmth in its own way, but it was a transient warmth—flickering, never stable. It was home only because it had to be. Yet now, as you stand and are trying to face the reality of adulthood, the world outside has revealed itself to be much larger, and far less forgiving. The nonexistent structure became worse as no guiding hand to tell you where to go or what to do, it felt like your world came crashing down. You were left with only your own instincts, and sometimes, that felt like too little.

You had walked these streets aimlessly more than once, feeling the weight of uncertainty on your shoulders. It wasn’t a loneliness that could be fixed by simple companionship, but a deeper sense of being untethered. The world seemed vast, stretching endlessly, and yet you had no anchor.

But in the back of your mind, there was one place you kept returning to—the memory of that night with Thomas. His kindness had been a rare warmth, and in a world where you had learned to keep your distance from others or know that everything might be temporary, it had stirred something in you. Something you couldn’t quite explain.

You had never been one to believe in fate or signs, but there was something about him—his demure courteousness, his gentle ways of speaking—that made you wonder if perhaps, for the first time, someone truly saw you. Not as a stranger, visitor, or even as someone passing through, but as someone of their time worth knowing.

And so, each time you walked through the streets now, you found yourself hoping, almost unconsciously, for another encounter with him. Obviously this feeling was something new and so you didn’t know what it meant yet or how to navigate through these emotions, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that this, whatever it was, was somehow different. And you were liking that feeling for whatever reason it why.

Quick visits to the market or running simple errands were no longer tiresome tasks that you didn’t care of. They had become opportunities—small, fleeting chances for fate to intervene, for your paths to cross again. You found yourself wandering the aisles with a quiet hope, praying, almost, that the universe might favor you today, that you might once again find yourself near him, the man with the striking blue eyes.

There was something magnetic about him, something that pulled at your heart whenever you thought of him. The brief exchange that night in the storm had been just that—a fleeting moment. Yet, it had sparked something deeper within you, something that hadn’t been satisfied by the mundane interactions of your daily life. You wanted to know more about him, beyond the kindness he had shown you that rainy night. What did he do with his days? What brought him joy? What dreams did he hold, if any?

Days may pass yet you found yourself, once again, between the swarming townspeople who didn’t pay attention to anything but their own business. Meanwhile for you, it involved pretending to be focused on your task while your mind wandered, imagining the sound of his voice, wondering if you would ever have the chance to speak with him again.

It was a prayer whispered into the busy world, a wish that echoed through the crowds.

And, perhaps, the heavens had finally listened.

A few meters away, you spotted him—Thomas, unmistakable in his simple attire, standing in conversation with a man you did not recognize. The stranger was dressed far more opulently than Thomas—his clothes rich, his appearance polished with a wealth that was immediately apparent. He had a mustache, and his curly hazel locks framed his face with a certain confidence that only money seemed to afford.

You stood there, heart thudding in your chest, waiting, hoping that Thomas would look your way. You didn’t want to be too forward, but a part of you yearned for him to notice you, to recognize you, to remember that night in the rain. You lingered longer than you should have, pretending to be absorbed in your shopping as your eyes never left him.

The minutes stretched on, time slowing as you stood in that sea of people. Your breath caught in your throat each time he turned his head in your direction, only to look past you. He seemed distracted by the conversation, the man beside him far more commanding of his attention. You felt an odd sensation of longing mixed with a pinch of frustration, as if your presence wasn’t enough to pull him away from the company of this wealthy stranger.

It was only when your patience had nearly run out that you saw his eyes finally catch yours. For a moment, he seemed baffled upon seeing the figure in front of him, as though he couldn’t quite place your identity but seemed familiar with it. His eyebrows furrowed.

It was as if he were trying to decide if you were someone he knew—or if, perhaps, you were simply another figure in the crowd. A small thrill of anticipation ran through you as his gaze lingered a moment longer, and then, almost imperceptibly, his lips parted, as though he were about to speak your name but only molded into a small smile.

As Thomas’s eyes met yours, a strange current seemed to pass between you. The moment stretched longer than it should have, the crowded market around you fading into the background. He remained, his expression thoughtful, but there was no mistaking the spark of recognition that flickered in his eyes.

The rich man beside him continued speaking, but his words seemed distant now, drowned out by the unspoken tension between you and Thomas. The stranger, sensing something in the air, took a step back, as if he had no place in this growing connection. It was as though the space around you and Thomas had become an intimate world of its own.

You didn’t move. You stood your ground, but a strange anticipation coiled inside you, as if you were waiting for something to unfold. And then, as if he could no longer stay apart from you, Thomas took deliberate steps forward, his gaze never wavering from yours.

“You know,” he said, his voice low, almost private, “I must admit, I did not expect to see you again so soon. But I find myself quite pleased by the coincidence.”

Your lips curved slightly, a smile playing at the edges of your mouth as you responded, “Strange how the world seems to align when least expected.”

Thomas’s smile grew, but it was more than just polite. You felt his expressions were genuine as though he might also have been thinking of you. “Indeed. And I must confess,” he said, his voice growing quieter, “I’ve found it difficult to focus on anything else since that night. It’s not every day that one meets someone with such... presence.”

Your breath caught at his words, and a warm flush spread through you. His words were straightforward and was unlike what you were accustomed to. But you couldn’t deny that you were even the least bit enjoying it as if the weight of his words matched the gravity of the connection you both started to share.

For a moment, there was a pause between you two as your eyes simply looked at each other. His eyes tracing your face as if committing every detail to memory. His hands awkward at his sides as though he were gathering the courage to say something more.

“I’m not one for... grand gestures,” he continued, his tone still warm but now with a hint of earnestness, “but I would be honored, if you would allow me, to take you to a place where the noise of the world does not drown out the simplicity of two people’s conversation.”

The invitation hung in the air between you, his words heavy with meaning. He was no longer just offering you a dinner; he was offering you an escape—an invitation into a quieter, more intimate world, one where only the two of you existed for a while.

“You needn’t say yes right away,” he added softly, almost as an afterthought, as though he didn’t want to pressure you.

His sincerity was undeniable and charming. You could see it in the way he held himself, how his posture seemed to lean toward you, as though everything in him was drawn to you without hesitation.

You were no longer just an image to him—he was seeing you in this moment, this very real moment, and the warmth between you was undeniable.

And so, the days passed in a delicate dance of stolen moments and whispered words, the connection between you deepening with each encounter. It seemed as though fate had woven a perfect tapestry for the two of you—one of shared glances, tender conversations, and the slow, inevitable pull toward each other. The world outside felt distant, irrelevant, as you found comfort in his presence.

You could almost believe that the rest was history—that the love you had found was destined, unshakeable, eternal. But reality has a way of revealing itself when least expected. Just as the two of you neared the edge of something more—a promise of forever—the world outside your little bubble began to break through, and the weight of the unspoken truths could no longer be ignored.

It was then that you understood—love, no matter how deeply it had taken root, was never quite as simple as it seemed.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆｡ﾟ☆: ♱*.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

The candlelight swayed as though it, too, felt the weight of the silence. The air in the room was thick with unspoken thoughts, the walls seeming to feel like they are closing or locking you in with every passing second. It was a silence that made your body quiver while your heart had thumped faster in your chest. The silence between you two that signaled something far darker than mere disagreement.

The evening in the town always seemed long, but tonight it felt dragged-out as with it, the shadows had deepened into dark pools at the corners of the room. The once tender warmth between you and Thomas had begun to feel like something colder, more dangerous. There was no longer the soft caress of his presence—no longer the calm of his hand reaching out to yours. The man standing before you now was a stranger, a creature of need, of desire, his once-gentle tone now edged with impatience.

“You speak of time,” Thomas said, his voice low, measured—almost like a growl. “You think that choice is a luxury, don’t you? As if we can buy or have all the time in the world. But time… time is fleeting. And you squander it, as if it will wait for us.” His gaze narrowed, his lips curling in a way that sent a chill down your spine.

You could feel the sting through his words that fell out of his mouth, all the while darkness from outside inching over more into the room like a fog. He took a step toward you, slow, deliberate, as though the very air was thick with the tension between you. The once warm, kind man was slipping away, replaced by something more urgent, something almost desperate.

“Why do you fear it so?” His words were almost a whisper now, though they hit you harder than any shout.

“Why do you fear the future we could have? The family we could build? Why do you fear something so... so natural?” He moved another step closer, his gaze locking with yours, unyielding, unblinking. “Is it the money that binds you? The lack of it, the chains of our circumstances? Or is it that you fear me? Fear what I could become? What we could become?”

You recoiled, not from him, but from the weight of his questions. You had known this moment would come. You had known it was inevitable—there could be no peace between two souls that might be different, so driven by separate desires.

“I fear nothing of you, Thomas,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I fear us. I fear the madness of rushing into things before the time is right. I fear bringing a child into a world we can’t even provide for. What would we offer them?” Your words trembled in the air, hanging between you like fragile glass. “What will we give them when we have so little?”

He moved again, his presence now engulfing you, suffocating the space between you. “We have everything,” he spat, his voice now sharper, more biting.

He adds, “We have the strength to build. The love to nurture. I have the strength to provide. To protect. And yet you look at me as though I were weak—as though my love, my intentions, are not enough for you. You will wait forever for the perfect moment. But there is no perfect moment. There is only now.”

He was close enough now that you could feel the heat radiating from his body, or that it was maybe the tension between the two of you that was obviously seen also in his posture with raw hunger in his eyes. “I will not wait,” he said, his words like a command. “I will not stand idle while time slips through my fingers. I will not be a man who regrets. You will be mine, and we will have a future. Even if I must drag you there.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, not from love but from a deep, creeping fear that now gripped you. You had not expected this side of him. Not like this.

“Thomas, this is madness,” you whispered, your voice breaking under the weight of his presence. “We are not ready. Do you not see how foolish it is? How dangerous? I—”

“Dangerous?” His laugh was grating and dark. It was not a laugh based on amusement, but of something more terrible, something lowly foreshadowing like an omen. “You call love dangerous? You call life dangerous? I am offering you everything, and you call it madness? You wish to deny it all? You wish to deny me?”

He stepped closer again, until there was barely any space between you, his breath warm on your skin, the weight of his presence unbearable.

“You will have a child, and you will have it now or anytime soon… with me. I will not be refused,” he hissed, his tone low and chilling. “You will see, in time, how right I am. You will understand.”

A shudder ran all over and down to your body, not from the cold, but from the intensity of his words— more so threats— from the promise that lingered in the air between you. It was no longer a matter of love. It was a matter of control.

At first, rather the earliest of times that you were bonding with Thomas, seemed nothing wrong.

You convinced yourself that the house was warm, the bed was soft, and Thomas was well, you could say… attentive. Protective. Maybe too much so. But after everything, you tried to ease your thoughts and assure it by thinking it was just his way of caring. He provided for you, ensured you wanted for nothing.

You could say that it wasn’t really a prison if the doors were open, if the windows weren’t locked. It wasn’t control if he only wanted to keep you safe. Right?

But then, little by little things began to shift. The small, obvious details that eventually build up into something bigger than it was, or should be. Truthfully, time really has its way of revealing the truth.

The evident shift with his actions started with the way his grip lingered too long around your wrists. The fingers of his hand tightening just enough to remind you who had more of the strength between the two of you. Who had more power. The way his gaze, once filled with a captivating tone of longing, became something else—darker, heavier, like shackles you could not see but could feel tightening around your throat, wrists, and even ankles.

And don’t get started about the nights. The nights were the worst.

There were moments, just before sleep, when you felt his breath against your skin. But it was not with a hint of candied affection, rather it was like a reminder of possession. Moments when you awoke to find him watching you, unmoving. His eyes creepily gleaming under the dim candlelight of your shared room, his expression hard to decipher what might be filling in his thoughts.

And then came the threats amongst other nights. The first threat of the many more you didn’t know were coming.

Both of you were laying in bed. The quietness of the room contrasted to the endless thoughts that were spinning negatively around your mind. You tried to force yourself into complacency in the situation right now, acknowledging that making a scene wouldn’t help if you didn’t have any concrete plans. Yet as if Thomas had the power to read your thoughts, he simply interjects while you were close to zoning out,

"If you ever think about leaving this place… our place," he murmured. You could feel the mattress of the bed sink with his weight shifting, with him moving from laying on his back to the side facing where you slept. A finger of his trailed cooly and idly along your arm, "Just know… I would find you. No matter where you ran."

"Your existence belongs to me even if we may have not wed yet." The tone of his voice was soft past his lips but his words stung like venom. He says such phrases like he was cursing upon you,. "Where would you go? There is nothing for you beyond these walls—only cold, only hunger, only ruin."

"Why would you even say something like that, my love?" you asked, but in a tone that didn’t intend on fighting back. Your response leaned more towards trying to lighten up the atmosphere and tension. As if the very notion was absurd. As if your hands weren’t trembling nor as if you sucked in to bite down on the insides of your cheek to prevent your jaw from showing evident signs of agitation.

Thomas exhaled. The sound of it being like it was half amusement and half of whatever something else. But you assumed it was cold. His head tilted, eyes drinking you in with the slow indulgence of a predator toying with its prey.

"Do not insult me with such fragile deceptions, my dove,” he whispered. His fingers escalated past the skin of your arm and ghosted along your jaw, a caress at war with the iron beneath his touch. "I have seen the way your gaze lingers at the door, the windows. I know the weight of a mind that plots in secret. A bird does not glance at the sky unless it yearns to fly."

With the same hand toying around your skin, his thumb pressed down onto one side of your cheek while the other fingers on another side. It was just enough to remind you of his strength, that he could break you if he wished. Like a porcelain doll in the hands of something ancient and unmerciful.

"You think yourself devious, but your thoughts are glass to me. Every flicker of hesitation, every pause before you speak… I can see them all…"

It was honestly talented of him to have his words remain subtle, yet his intentions behind each word were far more sinister.. "And yet, you persist in this little charade."

"Tell me, dearest… do you truly believe you can outwit me?" Again, his voice, low and chilling that was filled with ridicule towards you.

You froze where you lay on your side of the bed. The weight of his words sank into your bones. Even with barely any hint of light in the dim room, his indistinct gaze bore into your skin, reading every flicker of uncertainty in your eyes. His fingers were lingering near your throat, playing with both your own body and thoughts almost as if he could feel your pulse rapidly increasing with each beat.

You could not tear your gaze away from his, though every part of you screamed to look away. This was a small yet defining moment where you almost and completely realized that he had you. And you knew it.

"No," you whispered, voice trembling, barely audible in the suffocating silence that stretched between you. The words felt foreign on your tongue, soaked with fear and submission. "I... I would never think or do such a thing like that."

You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling the chill of the air in the room seep past your body and straight into your very soul. There was no escape.

You tugged on the edge of the blankets tightly up and around your body as if to shield yourself from the fictitious dark energy that loomed in the room. Sleep came slowly, but when it did, it felt restless. Your dreams for that night were wildly taken over by some haunting nightmares. It was filled with wickedness and gloom that flashed within the corners of your mind waiting to terrify you like a figure creeping from behind.

Eventually the sun had to finally rise again and you woke up to the sound of the faint ticking of the clock, along with the light peeking through the small cracks in the curtains. You forced yourself from the bed, body feeling heavy alongside your very soul unwilling to rise. You went through the motions. You prepared food. You cleaned. You tried to speak to Thomas as if nothing had changed, as if his cruel words hadn’t dug into your mind and left their mark there, invisible to anyone but you.

You were still trapped within these walls. Wrapped around his grasp. And you wore a mask portraying an illusion of nonchalance, just to survive another day. But it honestly didn’t fool anyone other than yourself

By the time the afternoon sun began to dip lower in the sky, a crushing weight settled upon your chest. Thomas was preparing to leave, his work for tonight had him assigned for the night shift. His presence began to fade from the house, but your heart ached with the hollowness of your own captivity.

Once he had gone, you found yourself retreating into the room that you shared with him, the one where you just had an argument from the night before. You closed the door behind to seal yourself away from the world. The emptiness echoed through the walls as the silence deafening, but it was nothing compared to the emptiness inside of you. It felt like your insides had twisted and left a bad feeling in your gut, a constant reminder that you were apparently being locked in a cage and could not escape.

Your body fell to your knees by the side of the bed. Your hands clutched the edge of the sheets, the fabric crumpled under your fist. Your breath hitched as you fought a sob clawing its way from your throat. You held it back for a moment, just long enough to whisper, as if there were anyone left to hear.

You intertwined both of your hands together, forming a prayer, “Please.”

Your voice started to tear down as it was filled with desperation. “Please, hear my plea. I can’t take this anymore. Save me… Please, save me…”

But it was impossible to expect something while knowing that your cries will be thrown into nothingness, into the void. Consequently, you weren’t entirely aware of the dangers that you were inviting, especially at these times of the night, with whatever wandering spirit there was. There was a faint whisper, like a cold breeze passing through. Something ancient and hungry seemed to respond to your plea, its presence barely noticeable at first, but growing.

Eventually you continued to weep harder, without a care that no one was there for you at your side to comfort you. They were for something else entirely—something that would come to claim you, whether you realized it or not. You had unwittingly opened a door that should have remained sealed.

But for now everything that centered around you was your utter desperation. You felt as if your chest was about to burst under the heavy weight of your own torment. It felt as though the world had sloped and you were falling into it, unable to grasp anything solid, not even your own faith. As you knelt there, hands trembling, your voice still calling out for help, the very walls around you seemed to pulse with something far darker—something that could never save you, only draw you further into the shadows.

You wouldn’t know it then, but this was the moment that would begin your unraveling. And as your tears fell.

The call had been answered. But not by the heavens you were so despairingly pleading to. Not by anything you could have ever imagined.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆｡ﾟ☆: ♱*.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

The darkness of the sky eventually became your only refuge

During the daylight, you tried to play the part of being the obedient wife. Merely drifting through the halls of the house that you didn’t feel you belong in anymore. Then you carried out the necessary duties as if there were no invisible shackles forcing you in.

But when nightfall came, you looked forward to your usual routine of salvation. When the house and the bedroom was filled with nothingness and your lover, Thomas, lay sleeping, you would slip from out and under the covers. Your feet fell flat and bare against the cold wooden floor first, and then you kneel before the window which was your only source of dim lighting. The moonlight shines through it. It became a ritual. A sacred act of defiance wrapped in the guise of prayer.

Your voice would waver, no more than something softer than a whisper. “Please…”

Between other nights, it was nothing more than that plea. It consisted of a single word that got lost within the beauty of the gloomy moonlight. But other nights, you weep to the heavens as if confident that someone, or something, might take pity on you. The more you prayed, the more fervent you became.

Of course to your foolishness, you never noticed the way the air in the room thickened. How the shadows crept deeper in the corners. You never noticed the way the walls enclosed further, as if it was breathing, as if something was listening. Something patient, something waiting.

And you never noticed the way a pair of blue eyes began to watch you. Thomas began to watch you.

At first, he said nothing. He would wake to find you on your knees, speaking softly to the heavens, and merely observe from the bed, his eyes unreadable in the dim candlelight. He was always watching, always waiting.

Then eventually one night, the bed was cold when you returned. The side of his bed was as empty as when you left yours.

A sharp chill ran down your spine. The room felt too wrong. Too silent, too still. Then a whisper, a shift in the atmosphere.

“You pray so sweetly, little one.”

Your breath caught. You turned, slowly, to find him standing in the doorway, barely visible in the darkness.

His gaze was unreadable, still dressed in the clothes he used for sleeping. There was something in the way he stood. Something rigid, something restrained and it all felt too terrible, leaving a wrench in your gut.

"Tell me,” he murmured, stepping closer, “who is it you call for so desperately?"

Your lips parted instinctively, but no words came out.

His fingers trailed along the edge of the table. Slow, deliberate, as he took another step forward. "Tell me, my dearest… What answer are you expecting? Who are you expecting?”

You swallowed hard. Your hands tremble at your sides as it falls on either side of your body. “I—”

"You do it every night.” His voice remained soft, yet there was an edge beneath it. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice? That I wouldn’t hear?”

He was standing in front of you now near the edge of the bed. So close you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. He lifted one hand, brushing away a strand of hair from your face. It should have been a loving gesture. It was not.

"You kneel there by the window,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, "and you beg. You plead. For what? For mercy?" His fingers trailed down your jaw, pausing at your throat. "For deliverance?"

You shuddered beneath his touch, your breath shaky. "I—"

He lets out a low simulated chuckle. "You pray to something that does not answer you, and yet you ignore the only thing that holds you in its hands."

His grip tightened. But terrifyingly it was not enough to hurt, not yet, but enough to remind you. Enough to make your heart thump faster and pulse around that area pound beneath his touch.

"Enough of this, my love,” he spat. “You insult me. After all I have given you."

Your breath hitched as he leaned in, his lips softly grazing against the skin of your ear. "If you run, I will find you. I will drag you back by your pretty little throat and remind you why you should never have tried."

Slowly he pulls back a little with a cruel smile, one that did not reach his eyes. The tone of his voice remains the same, "You could throw yourself into the ocean, and I would still retrieve you from its depths. You could beg the wind to carry you far away, and I would tear it apart with my bare hands."

Your knees nearly quivered.

"I would burn this house to the ground before I let you walk away. You, and everything in it…” Again, his fingers found a way and tightened ever so slightly around your throat, not enough to choke, but enough to remind you of his strength, his control.

His eyes filled with darkness were unfathomable. He held you captive, drinking in the flickers of fear you could not hide. He tilted his head, studying you with a cruel, measured patience, as if savoring the weight of his next words before letting them fall like a death knell.

"...If I can’t have you, then no one will. Not even the earth to bury you in."

There was a pause that stretched between the two of you. The silence weaved with it had suffocated you aside from the weight of his hands. Then, Thomas sighed with a slow, measured breath. One that sent an unspoken warning through the stale air. His grip on you slackened, just slightly enough for you to breathe again. But you knew better than to think it was mercy.

“You still don’t understand it. Why don’t you?” His voice was quieter. The sharp edge of rage tempered into something even worse—certainty. “I don’t make threats, dove. I tell you what is.”

His hands were rough as they cupped your face. The calloused palms scraped against your skin and the way he held you was almost… gentle. Like a man admiring something fragile. Something he had no intention of breaking—not yet.

“You’re mine,” he said, as if the words alone could bind you in chains. “You always have been. And soon, there won’t be any question left of it.”

The pit in your stomach churned violently. The dread crawling up your throat like bile that you want to vomit out. You knew what was coming before he even spoke of it. He had already spoken about it before. But now… now it wasn’t just a suggestion.

His thumbs traced along your cheekbones, down to your lips, pressing there for a moment before he leaned in, his breath warm against your skin.

"You will carry my child," he murmured in between kisses. His voice as sure as the walls around you, as unyielding as the locked door you knew you had no key for. He pulls back with a breath, "And then, maybe… maybe you’ll finally stop pretending there’s a way out of this."

Your breath hitched as one of his hands drifted lower past your nightgown. It stops to settle over your stomach. The tips of his fingers pressed there, not cruelly, not harshly, but with intent. Possessive. As if there already was life he spoke of existing beneath his the area of where he touched.

"There will be no running," he continued, his voice still calm. Terrifying in its conviction. "No more foolish prayers to a god who’s long since stopped listening. No more pretending you have a choice."

He pulled back just enough to look at you, to imbibe in the terror you couldn’t hide. And then he smiled, a small, almost satisfied smile before leaning forward and securing to pin you down to the bed. “Shh,” he hushes against your soft skin.

Your arms at first try to push him away, palms pushing against his chest. However, your size was considerably in contrast with Thomas. His figure was huge and you were no match with his mass alone. And so you tried to stretch out your arms in hopes of reaching for anything, any object that you could use in defense.

The weight in the bed shifts as Thomas tries to position himself better above you. So that he could pin you down better to his advantage. With one hand, he flawlessly gets to put weight around both your wrists, successfully further trapping you underneath him as he continues to indulge between your kisses.

“Don’t be so obstinate, my love,” he says while using his other hand to scrunch up a segment of your nightgown under his fist so that he could steadily lift it up while still forcing you down. “You will be alright. I’ll take good care of you. I- I won’t hurt you.”

An impatient hand of his slips under your clothing that makes you pull your knees back and try to use your feet to kick against him. But you are further pushed down onto the bed in opposition to you trying to get away.

You feel one of his fingers tug against the fabric underneath, slipping past in order to access the skin of your cunt. He brazenly toys with each layer, indulging and acknowledging the growing wetness that made the cheeks of your face flush in embarrassment. Embarrassed that your body was reacting this way so which for sure Thomas would impose on.

Your lower back slightly arches at his cold touch. The tips of his finger finding its way inside, slowly and teasingly which as essentially a torture. But he doesn’t continue all the way, which you would rather prefer as it could just end already.

No. He makes sure to do it in a devious way. He plays with you so gently, making sure to soak the entire face of your cunt covered in your own wetness. Dragging along the fingers that he used to push inside and outside, he glazes over your clit as well which sends shivers across your body.

As he continues to be curious about exploring your lower body, you try to push your thighs together with the goal to cease his attempt on making events escalate into something more. But you were unsuccessful and this measure that you did had honestly provoked Thomas into advancing more.

He continues. Your strength was no match against him. You couldn’t prevent him from doing what he wants. He was so certain of what he wanted.

“T-Thomas,” you trembled underneath his touch. You look up directly to meet his eyes, “Please, no.”

It was no use and you weren’t sure if the man feeds onto everything in contradiction of what you’re crying out. As you were too distracted from all the worries that you were giving out to him, you had not realized how fast he had undone your clothes and that your flesh was left nothing but your thin gown.

Your skin was bare and completely naked underneath, and it didn’t help that it was scrunched up to reveal and expose your entirety for Thomas. Your body shakes intensely due to the coldness of the night and the darkness that came from him. It was not the same man you fell in love with at first. How did such completely change over the course of time?

Or were you just foolish enough to not see it from the start?

“I’ll make love to you all night, my dove,” he moans as he tries to undo his own clothes. His grip loosened for a short moment but you were so shocked that it left you paralyzed. He continues, “Let me carve my claim into your very blood...”

"...You will swell with my child.” He says but for you it comes off more as an intimidation. “Proof of what we are, what you cannot run from. I will make certain of it. You will carry me within you, bound by flesh and fate alike."

While you try to deny everything and shake, enough to show contest but not enough to force him away, he continues. And within the next moment Thomas gets in between the insides of your thighs, positioning himself before sinking deep and slowly into you. He lets out a deep groan, almost animalistic.

Then he continues to thrust, heavily jerking his hips while your mind fights to stay focused on what you were really feeling. It wasn’t the first time you had shared a moment like this, like any other couple would. But this time was different. There was a strong desire and immorality behind the intent.

As he spreads your legs apart to welcome himself in between your cunt, Thomas leans his body further forward. He buries his face in the crook of your neck. His weight further trapping you down as he drinks in the pleasure of fucking you senseless. “Need not resist, my love,” he murmurs, "I-I won’t harm you. I’ll… tend to you, cherish you, as only I know how."

The moment was an act of deep intimacy, entangled deep within the darkness of the room and night. It screamed and whispered both salvation and ruin. The warmth of his words was suffocating with promises that should have been comforting but instead invoked fear.

The closeness was only something you have seen and gotten from Thomas. He was right for that as you have never known it from anywhere in the cruel world.

Eventually his movements became unkempt and his rhythm was nowhere near steady. He threw his head back, the skin of his face covered in sweat as his hand trembled and lost within the sheets of the bed. He lets out a louder groan, and you knew from then how your fate would be sealed.

The intimacy shared was both tether and binding, suffocating and consuming. You couldn’t help but think this was another level of closeness shared with Thomas, the closest your souls have ever been.

Then his hands hurriedly find a way to snake and pin you down from your stomach. He grips on your body firmly with each thrust he does deliberately. With each of his last few thrusts, his moans were loud as the pleasure mixed with greed while steadily filling your bare cunt with his own seed.

He breathes our raggedly, "I won’t hurt you, darling. But I will care for you, in ways that will bind you to me forever."

“I adore you.”

i discovered i love writing gothic settings. the dialogues were immaculate and i hope u guys enjoyed reading this as much as i did writing! fell free to send in prompts of dark thomas or leave feedback :)

#thomas hutter #thomas hutter imagine #thomas hutter smut #thomas hutter x you #thomas hutter x y/n #thomas hutter x reader #nosferatu 2024 smut #dark thomas hutter #dark!thomas hutter #dark thomas hutter smut #dark thomas hutter x reader #thomas hutter/reader #nosferatu 2024 imagine #nosferatu 2024 #thomas hutter fanfic #thomas shutter fanfiction #dark!thomas hutter smut #dark!thomas hutter imagine #dark thomas hutter/reader

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riverside--wren · 3 days ago

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Welp, I wrote a bit of a fanfic for the Town Kook Ford au by @a-scary-lack-of-common-sense, set before Ford became the town kook. Hope you enjoy.

Icy winter winds whipped past Stanford Pines and settled themselves somewhere deep in his bones as he trudged the final few steps to his front door. The trenchcoat he had wrapped tightly around himself was insufficient protection from the pervasive chill. It was okay. It was fine. He’d gotten far too used to being cold recently. Ever since he’d had largely stopped eating and entirely stopped sleeping, Ford’s body had been wracked with shivers at all hours of the day, no matter how he tried to warm himself. He learned to quit listening to his body’s signals. Ignore the desire to wrap a blanket around himself that would only make him comfortable and complacent and drowsy, ignore the way his eyelids kept trying to slide themselves shut against his will, ignore the false images that danced in the corners of his eyes, ignore the sounds that reverberated just out of his range of hearing.

It was fine. Stanford would be fine. He could still fix this. Stanley was coming.

The postcard had been placed in the mail. He’d only just come back from dropping it off at the Post Office (spending the whole time pointedly ignoring the strange looks the townspeople were giving him and the way they tried to avoid him when he drew near. He knew they must think him unbalanced, disheveled and sleep-deprived as he was, but those people simply had no idea what he was dealing with). The hastily scrawled card was well on its way to its intended recipient, and soon Stanley would be here, and Stanford could finally begin to set things right. Even just the thought of his wayward twin was enough to cause Ford’s shoulders to slump in relief… and then immediately tense back up again because HE COULDN��T AFFORD TO RELAX, ESPECIALLY NOT NOW!

It took a few tries to get his key in the front door lock. He needed to use both hands to hold it steady enough to align with the mechanism. Ford couldn’t stand the way his body was turning against him, the same way his mind was eating itself alive.

Once back inside his cabin, his safe haven, Ford quickly went down the line of locks: latch, chain, bar, deadbolt. He clicked them into place one by one; sealing himself off from the outside world. Only then did he feel marginally safe.

There was no one in Gravity Falls he could trust. Bill’s spies could be anywhere. Fiddleford was gone, stolen away by the portal and possibly (probably) dead. (Don’t think about it, don’t think about the wife and son he left behind, don’t think about the innumerable ways you failed him, don’t think about the look of terror on his face as he fell through the machine you built with your own two hands). Bill Cipher had betrayed his trust, revealed himself for the monster he truly was. Stanley may have been a conman and a liar, but he had also always been there for Stanford when he needed him. No matter what, Stanley had been the one person in his life he could trust (right up until he couldn’t).

And right now… Stanford was ashamed to admit Stanley was just about the only option he had left. He’d burned through plans A through Z and was onto labeling them with greek letters and alchemical symbols. Stanly was his last chance, his Hail Mary. If this didn’t work out, the only options he had left were the truly desperate and the truly insane. This would work because it HAD to work.

Out of habit more than anything, Stanford went to the kitchen to check the phone answering machine. He always checked, even if there were never any messages for him. There was no one to call. If Stanford died in the snow out here, no one would even know. So when he saw the red light, slowly pulsing on and off, it took a minute to work it’s way through his sluggish brain that someone HAD left a message for once.

He lifted up his glasses to check that what he was seeing was real. Closed one eye, then the other. With the way his hallucinations had been increasing lately, he wouldn’t have been SURPRISED to have an imaginary a phone message. But it remained stubbornly lit, and stubbornly real.

He checked the machine.

There were five missed calls, all from the same unknown number, and one voicemail message. Fear churned in the empty pits of his stomach, although he couldn’t quite place why. Nothing was wrong yet. People recieved messages on their answering machines all the time.

A voice came through the speakers clear and clean, allowing Standard to hear the harsh breathing and subtle wobble that accompanied it. “Hey, Sixer, it’s your brother,” the voice spoke. A voice he hadn’t heard in ten long years. Ford’s breath caught in his throat, making each subsequent breath a struggle. Why was Stanley calling him? How did he even get this number? It was far too soon for Ford’s postcard to have reached him yet - was this some new trick of Bill’s to force him to turn the portal on? “Listen, some big stuff has been going down here lately, and tomorrow… well, it’s not like it really matters. But if you don’t hear from me, I just wanted you to know that I still love you. So, uh, bye.”

The voice message ended with a decisive click.

Ford had missed the call. Had missed what may have been the last call from his brother… no, no it wasn’t the last call. There would be many more calls in the future. Because Stanley was FINE, and he was coming HERE, and then everything would be okay.

The phone message meant nothing; Stanley was just overreacting to something as per usual. He was sure to call again soon to let Stanford know that everything was going to be okay, and they would laugh and set things right.

Ford busied himself with anything he could think of for the next two days, anything he could do to keep himself awake. He memorized parts of his journal he thought could be important in the future, he organized stacks of papers, he finally moved the giant dinosaur skull to a place where he could quit tripping over it, and he most decidedly did NOT worry about Stanley

Because Stanley was fine. Just like Stanford was FINE, and the whole situation with the portal was FINE. It was all okay, Ford just needed to wait.

He had almost slipped into a light doze, slumped against the fish tank that was the new holding place of the skull, when a shrill ringing awoke him. He quickly patted himself down for signs of possession, but his body was just as he left it. He must not have fallen deeply enough for the demon to worm its insidious way into his mind.

The phone rang again.

Ford barely kept his feet under himself as he scrambled for the kitchen, desperate for news.

“Hello, this is Stanford Pines speaking,” he answered, struggling to keep his voice even.

“Hello,” the caller answered. A high, femenie voice. Not Stanley. “I hate to ask this, but do you happen to know a… Panley Stines?”

“Stanley…” Ford muttered under his breath, exasperation tainting his words. He quickly swallowed down the sudden surge of panic that threatened to crawl up his throat - he had no proof anything was wrong, not yet - and he responded in as measured a tone as he was able. “Yes, this is his brother speaking.” (Ignore the fact he felt the need to give a fake name. Ignore how distressed the voice on the other end of the line sounded.) “May I inquire what this is about?”

She let out a huff of air. “Well you see, I found this scrap of paper with your phone number on the nightstand when I was cleaning up this motel room after - well, you see… something happened, and… your brother’s dead, Stanford.”

Breathing went from difficult to impossible as all the air suddenly seemed to evacuate the room. “No.” The phone shook in his grip, nearly dislodging his glasses with how hard it trembled. “No, you’re wrong. Stanley is not dead. He is my twin. I would have FELT it, I would have KNOWN.”

“Sir-”

“Do not call this number again.” He slammed the phone back into its cradle. Cracks spiderwebbed across the wall behind it, and he studied them as he worked to calm his breathing.

Stanley wasn’t dead, he couldn’t be dead. He would call any minute now to clear this up, to explain what had happened and reassure Stanford that he was okay. Then he would come to Gravity Falls, and Stanford could finally fix everything with Bill. Stanley had to. Ford needed him.

Ford just needed to wait by the phone. The call would be coming any minute now.

The phone rang.

Ford picked it up, clutching the worn plastic tightly.

“Hello?” He warbled. It took a few clearings of his through before he could make it through his standard greeting. “This is… Stanford Pines speaking.”

No voice came through from the other end of the phone, just crackling and popping static. Stanford would be furious if this was his mysterious prank caller once again. Didn’t they know he was waiting on an important call from his brother? Fiddleford had once offered to build him a 50-foot tall death robot that would seek and destroy all prank callers worldwide, and Stanford was beginning to sorely regret not taking him up on his offer.

Just as Stanford was about to hang up on the dead air, a voice came through. Distant at first, then louder. Laced through the static of the call was a distinctive, high-pitched laughter. Cackling with wild abandon: the voice of his greatest enemy and his former closest friend.

With a roar of rage, Stanford ripped the machine from the wall, yanking the wires out of their respective hole. He panted harsh breaths as he stared at the disconnected piece of plastic and thoughts churned their way through his mind. He needed to do something about Bill. He couldn’t live like this much longer. Stanley was (not dead, not dead, not dead) unavailable at the moment. Yet another plan that had fallen through. He was steadily losing the war in his mind, inch by inch, minute by minute. Soon there would be nothing of him left. There was no longer anyone he could rely on. Nothing he could do.

The phone rang.

#gravity falls #gravity falls au #town kook ford au #stanford pines #this will be cross-posted on ao3… eventually #don’t listen to what anyone tells you: sleep deprivation hallucinations are actually fun and cool #this contains both billford and fiddauthor if you squint and look at it at a 45 degree angle #book of bill phone call parallels go brrrr

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charlietheepicwriter7 · 7 hours ago

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@anotheroceanid Part 2!

Lightning branched across the sky, lighting up the overstuffed room with brilliant white. Thunder boomed moments later. Odysseus flinched back, his claws retracting and his body shrinking as his monstrousness was sucked back into him. He felt naked. Raw.

Human.

The woman continued to sleep. The light had given him a better look of her, and she was clearly exhausted. Recovering from a rough birth, as every mother of godly children suffered from, and dark bruises under her eyes… She wasn’t sleeping enough. She wouldn’t wake.

Her daughter did.

In her crib, the babe stirred. Letting out a quiet whimper, she raised one curled fist to her eyes, as though she was blocking the light. She grew restless as the storm outside worsened, hail banging against the fire escape. Her eyes fluttered open, wide and soft green.

Odysseus turned away, his stomach turning.

He’d expected Poseidon’s eyes. His children always had his eyes; it was the defining characteristic of children of the Sea God, even more than their tan skin or their dark hair. Glowing, piercing green eyes that made it easy to despise them, easy to gut them or behead them or–

His wife had green eyes. Dark, like the leaves of their marriage bed, with beautiful golden flecks that their son inherited. She was divine, he thought mournfully, his heart breaking again.

This child did not have her father’s eyes, nor his wife’s. Her eyes were as light as an olive and stared at him, even though he knew an infant’s eyes could not see that far.

Infants typically were born with blue eyes, he remembered.

Odysseus loomed over the crib as he once was, the only evidence of his fate being his red eyes. He stood as just a man over the babe, his soul laid bare.

She squirmed against her swaddle, legs kicking underneath the blanket. Whining unhappily, she broke free from its constraints, one arm flopping wildly, almost hitting herself. He caught her hand without thinking, her little palm curling around his thumb.

A soft, gummy smile spread across her tiny face, her bright eyes crinkling with joy as if she recognized him—welcomed him. She let out a tiny gurgle and released his thumb, reaching up to his face.

Odysseus froze.

The last baby he held, he killed.

He never even held his grandchildren, or their children, waiting until they were old enough to run, to scream, to fight back before he even dared touch them. Too cautious. Too tempting. He didn’t even like seeing the babies, not until they were older.

Lightning illuminated the room again, and thunder followed, rattling the windows. Tears immediately welled up in her eyes and, without thinking, Odysseus picked her up and held her against his chest. His arms naturally cradled her, supporting her neck in a gesture he’d learned centuries ago. He hushed her softly, comforting her as best he could while keeping an eye on the mother. Mothers were the most dangerous creatures in every species.

The comfort continued for many minutes, Odysseus speaking at a low volume to keep her calm against the instinctual fear of thunder. Her free arm latched onto his beard, digging her fingers into the coarse hair and pulling. Odysseus winced, but didn’t stop her. Small as she was, she couldn’t hurt him.

But he could hurt her. He was there to hurt her.

A great many things in this world would hurt her.

Odysseus frowned. The Lord of the Sky would soon discover Poseidon's oath breaking, and so would the Lord of the Dead. Both would be furious when they discovered little Penelope; he got the distinct impression that neither king was particularly happy to stop having children, despite the Gods’ general disinterest in their young. And as she aged, her scent would grow stronger and attract monster after monster after monster after—

He took a deep breath. His hands tightened slightly around the infant, as if bracing himself against the weight of the realization crashing down on him. His purpose—vengeance, justice, the satisfaction of seeing Poseidon suffer as he had suffered—was literally in his hands. And yet, standing in the dim glow of streetlights refracting in the rain, holding this tiny, helpless creature against his chest, all he could think of was how fragile she was.

He exhaled slowly, pressing his lips into a thin line.

If he left now, pretended he never saw the child, she’d live. For a while. But eventually, the monsters would come for her. She would be devoured before she learned how to run. Even if she somehow survived, even if she grew up strong, she would be dragged into the games of the gods, made a pawn in the endless war between Olympians.

Odysseus had such a fate, once. He’d escaped by the skin of his teeth and ichor on his hands, but he escaped.

It was better for her to die, a part of him whispered. The ghosts of his past murmured in his head, warning him, cursing him, reminding him of all that he had lost, all that he had destroyed.

But the girl in his arms did not yet know of loss. She knew only warmth. Only comfort. Her little fingers tangled in his beard, and when he shifted her slightly, she let out a sleepy sigh, nestling against him as though he were something safe. Something familiar.

Odysseus closed his eyes.

He was not a hero. He was not a good man. He had no illusions about what he was—what he had become. But for the first time in centuries, he had a choice.

He could leave her. Let fate claim her. Let the gods have their way.

Or he could take her.

How many times had he wondered what would have happened, if he didn’t drop Hector’s infant from that Trojan wall? Hundreds of times? Thousands?

“Penelope.”

The name ached in his chest. He looked down at her one last time before making his decision.

With practiced ease, he adjusted his grip, holding her securely against him. He moved silently, his steps soundless as he turned away from the crib, from the exhausted mother who would wake in the morning to an empty cradle. Odysseus did not look back.

The storm raged on as he slipped out the window, the shadows swallowing him whole.

#epic the musical #pjo #epic pjo #odysseus epic #epic the musical ithaca saga #percy jackson #girl percy jackson #baby percy jackson #epic crossover #pjo crossover #percy jackson and the olympians #Congrats to the people who voted for Sally's baby to get kidnapped!#the other two results would have resulted in this #Sally waking = Odysseus becoming Sally's weird adopted monster dad #(remember she's only like 18)#Poseidon showing up = Ody becoming Penny's weird uncle who kidnaps her sometimes #next update will be next month

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totallyanopossum · 2 days ago

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Monster secretary part 3

Art by me

Link to master post

Part 3, 18+ art below

Art by me

R/totallyanopossum for uncensored art

Part 3, smutty smut smut

The feelings are just getting strong and stronger, she desperately needs some friction, something to clench around. She can't be stuck with this feeling for hours and not do something, it feels like if she doesn't get pleasure she'll explode. She hasn't even touched herself and she's fully soaked, she needs to do something. But she can't, not here in her bosses home, surely not with her boss, right?

It's been a few minutes of awkward silence after he dropped that new knowledge. There's a strong tension In the air, both awkward and sexual.

He didn't mean for it to happen, it's the last thing this situation needs. But her scent is getting stronger and stronger, it's affecting him, and the feel of wet arousal on his arm, he's getting the awkwardest boner of his life.

She didn't realize her feet were resting in his lap until she felt something harden beneath the balls of her feet. She glances down and can't help the cartoon look of shock that's plastered on her face as she realizes her feet are resting on his extremely large boner.

Is he affected by me? Wait, do we have mutual feelings, mutual attraction? Fuck, just how big is he? Oh I know I shouldn't but I wanna press down, feel how firm he is. Maybe he'll moan, or whimper, oh the sinful sounds we could make. Fuck, no, stop it, bad horny self.

Oh this silence is stupid, we are both turned on, both horny, both adults. My scent wouldn't have effected her like this if she didn't already have feelings for me.Even if there is a bit of a power difference here between boss and secretary, but fuck that it doesn't bother me and if it bothers her well the she can dominate me.

They both had that same thought at the same time.

D- “ Y/N”

Y/N-“ Draven"

They both said each other's names at the same time, catching them both off guard, adding another moment of hesitation.

She can't wait any longer, it's become too hard to think straight and focus, forming coherent words is beyond her at this point. She doesn't know what he was gonna say, but she's gonna go based on what his body is telling her.

Fuck it she can find another job, but getting another chance at this, to fuck a monster like him, she can't pass this up, her body is desperate for him and her lusfull mind is winning over her self control.

She grabs the hem of her shirt and throws it off, declaring her intentions loudly as her titties bounce from the recoil of her movements. Now she's like an animal in heat, she leans forward, grabs onto his hand for support as she maneuvers to straddle his arm. She's impressed all it takes is just one arm to hold her up, and how good it feels to grind on his arm. Her mind is so foggy all she knows is to keep bucking her hips and grinding on him, giving in feels so good, feels like a pressure has been released, but that's probably because she just released on him without realizing. Now his arm and pants are soaked with her arousal but she's unaware as she pants, chest raising with each ragged breath, her head hung back.

Whoa. She let loose, looks like she couldn't hold back anymore. Oh she's even more perfect then I imagined, smooth creamy skin, large pendulous breasts, oh those thighs, and perfect round ass. I wanna grab, fuck i wanna grab her but this is all her and she looks so good doing it. Using me for her pleasure. Oh, did she just? She did, all over me. Fuck I didn't get to taste, I'll have to make her do that again over my mouth next time, a few more times actually.

The ach in his pants is now painful, his slacks allowing no room to stretch against his growing length and the stain of leaking precum growing. It's time to say something now, he wants to touch her, to feel her.

D- “ y/n, darling?”

At the sound of his voice, she turns eyes locking with him immediately. Her eyes burning with a desperate hungry look.

Y/N-“ more”

D- “ p..pardon”

She shifts her gaze, eyes darting between him and the obvious bulge straining his pants. He's glad to see her interest in him, glad she wants more, and who is he to deny her that.

Y/N-“ more please”

D- “ of course darling”

He sets her down on the couch, she pouts, looking very upset about her new position and lack of contact. She won't be pouting long though it's his turn to undress. He starts by casting off his shirt and unbuckling his belt. He likes the way her eyes are glued to his every movement, just waiting to get sight of his impressive length. He hopes the size doesn't scare her off, but doubts that will happen with the way she smells, and how she licks her lips as his pants drop. This makes his hunger spike, cock grow to its full length, and his tentacles unfurl. They reach around for something to grab onto, something to squeeze, something to hold down.

Y/N-“ Whoa”

D- “ are you pleased darling?”

She doesn't have the words to convey her reaction, so she acts. She settles on her knees on the couch and reaches out with a grabbing motion, beckoning him over. She wants a closer look, she's never seen anything like it before, so big, both in length and girth.

He can't deny her and steps closer, making her level with his cock. His tentacles have a mind of their own, one pulling the tie from her hair making it fall cascading over her shoulders, the other fondling her swollen breasts making her moan with just the slightest squeeze.

His leaking cock bobs infont of her face as she admires it. The way it's girthiest at the base, how the tip is slightly flared with barbs just underneath, all the textured ridges, the way it's alright glistening with precum, and those tentacles already grabbing her.

Oh fuck this is going to break me, split me in two. That's if it will even fit, but oh I really want it to fit even if he breaks me this will be worth it. I need this, I need to be stretched, I need to be stuffed, I need to be broken.

She reaches out grabbing at the base with both hands, her fingertips don't even have a chance of reaching around him. She looks up at him while she licks and sucks on the tip, just the tip fills her mouth, stretching her jaw wide open, but it's so worth it. She's never tasted anything like this, the flavor delicious and indescribable and she wants more, needs more, she's gonna milk him for everything he's got.

He didn't expect her to be so bold, or for her touch to feel this exceptionally good. It's been so long since he's been with someone, he's embarrassed that just with a minute of her mouth on him he already feels his climax quickly approaching.

He lets out a deep growl and carefully fists her hair, his claws accidentally brush against her scalp eliciting a breathy moan muffled by his cock in her mouth.

D- “ im.. I'm gonna”

This makes her suck and flick her tongue more vigorous, like she wants him to cum quickly. But that's because she does, she's being driven by greedy hungry intentions of milking her boss.

He's about to cum, his tentacles squeeze her breasts hard, he bucks his hips and uses his hold on her hair to drive himself further in her mouth, making her let out choked sounds and the huff of heavy breathing coming from her nose. He hasn't released in so long, this load is very large, seeming endless, wave after wave hitting the back of her throat.

Delicious. Thank fuck he didn't pull out, can't waste a drop of it. Oh this is addicting.

Once he comes back to reality, he looks down admiring the way her lips are stretching around him, the tears rolling down her reddened cheeks, and that hungry devious look.

Oh she wants more, good so do I. She's gotten to have a taste of me but I haven't gotten a taste of her yet, how unfair, time to change that.

He pulls out of her mouth, making a lewd pop sound. He wrangles his tentacles, getting them off of her. It's time to take this to the bedroom so he can properly enjoy her.

He leans down and picks her up, placing her over his shoulder, grabbing her ass and squeezing as he takes her to his bedroom. Her plush soft body against his feels amazing, his fingers digging into her ass and thighs, her large breasts pressed against his shoulder and back, heavenly.

He playfully throws her down onto the bed, loving the way her body jiggles from the impact.

Oh he's perfect. Ravish me.

He goes to his knees at the foot of bed, reaches out grabbing hold of her thighs and drags his meal to the edge of the bed. He slips a claw under the soaked fabric of her underwear and cuts them off of her. Now she's fully bare to him.

She's perfect. What a pretty leaking pussy. A delicious meal all for me. Oh my dreams never came close to this.

He inhales her scent right from the source, the pheromones are intoxicating. Large hands pinning her legs open to the bed, he knows this will make her wriggle and writhe but she's not gonna escape his grasp. He glides his tongue between her slick folds getting his first taste of her delicious arousal, he immediately dives in sinking his tongue deep within her making her gasp and fist the blankets.

His tongue, fuck I already feel a stretch and it's just his tongue, his massive cock is gonna break me. Break me please. OH SHIT THATS MY CERVIX. DID HE JUST? HES TONGUE FUCKING MY CERVIX!

Good girl, yes gimme more sinful lewd moans. Try all you want, you're not going anywhere. That's it let me open you up, good girl take it.

Her back is arching off the bed, she's writhing under his expert tongue. He changes his hold, using his forearms to pin her thighs and his hands on her chest to keep her down. She looks so small and helpless trapped beneath his hold, so beautiful the way she struggles uselessly.

She clenched down around him hard, her legs shaking, body trembling, eyes rolling back as she cum harder than she ever has before.

Mouth open pressed against her pussy he waits for his treat, his delicious meal. He drinks up every drop, savoring everything she gives him. He slowly pulls his tongue out, leaving her empty clenching around nothing, feelings so empty. He releases his hold on her and just gazes at his beautiful little human as she slowly comes back to reality.

Eventually she opens her eyes, sits up a bit and looks at him, she's amazed and hungry for more. She never thought she’d be in a position to beg her boss for sexual acts but here she is. He said orgasming would ease the horny hunger but now it just feels stronger and unimaginably desperate, like if she doesn't get impaled on his cock soon she'll die.

She manages to sit up and grabs onto the horns coming from his collar bones for stability, not trusting herself to stay upright.

Y/N-“ more please”

He stays silent, he wants to see if she'll beg for more, for him.

Y/N-“ Mister Draven Please fuck me, use me, fill me. Please Boss I need you to fill me up, I'll do anything”

D- “ anything?”

Y/N-“ Yes!”

D- “ good girl, your gonna take everything I give you, your body is mine, we're not done until I say so, understood”

Y/N-“ yes, yes, please”

She's perfect and all mine. She'll get everything she begged for and more. I didn't know my scent hormone was this strong, poor Lil thing needs more pleasure, needs my cock.

He scoops her up, feeling her grip on his horns tighten as she's lifted off the bed, her legs over his shoulder, wet cunt dripping against his chest.

He climbs in bed, lays her down, and straddles her body hovers over her, loving how tiny she is beneath him, he's gonna have to be careful not to hurt her. 1 set of tentacles bind her breath together so he can titty fuck her while the other set trace along her neck and face. He lines up and thrusts, with each thrust her whole body gets jiggled. He's never felt something so soft or smooth before as he slides between her around breasts, he lets his head tilts back and enjoy the heavenly softness.

His tentacles really do have a mind of their own, the free set not binding her have taken interest with her mouth. They goes for her mouth, it's already open, panting,so they slip in, feeling around her cheeks and tongue, then exploring further back into her throat. She starts to choke, making Draven check to see what's happening, for a moment he's concerned but knows she can handle this.

D- “ swallow darling, let them in…. Good girl just like that, don't resist”

He's not in control of his tentacles but he can feel them and the feelings of her swallow around them is pushing him over the edge. A few more gulps and his thrusts become erratic and desperate. He lets out a loud growl as he releases all over her chest and face.

The tentacles release her breasts and come out of her throat, each tentacles scooping up cum and taking it to her mouth. She sucks off every bit of his delicious cum, noticing the whines that escape Draven as she sucks.

She needs to cum again, the feeling so urgent it's her only focus. Breathing, surviving, all secondary concerns tossed aside, there's only one goal and she needs it NOW.

She turns and gets In doggy position, presenting her ass and dripping cunt to him. She even wiggles her ass back and forth trying anything to get him inside her.

Wow she's presenting her ass to me, I have made her wait but she'll get her prize now.

He repositions herself, resting her on the balls of her feet, while his tentacles wrap around her thighs and waist to hold her in place. He slides his tips back and forth between her wet folds getting himself lubed up while teasing her overly sensitive clit. He's a bit worried about making it fit, he might break her, but she did beg to be filled, and how can he deny her, his cute little needy secretary.

He lighs up with her entrance and slowly starts to push in, it's slow going at first, not much progress he'll have to be more forceful.

Y/N-“ please please fill me Draven”

D- “ I don't want to hurt you darling”

Y/N-“ i don't care, fill me, fuck me, I need you inside me… Please”

Her voice is heavy with desperation, she sounds on the verge of tears with her last ‘please’. That sound of her distress triggers his instincts he now feels a strong deep drive to give her what she's begging for.

He pushes hard forcing his way in, she whines, moans, and claws at the bed while the pain mixes with pleasure. She cries out loudy as she finally opens up and he sinks in half way. The girthiest portion is still unable to fill her, but half is good progress. His tentacles increase their grip on her as she starts to lose her balance.

He had the intention to start slowly but instincts and hunger have taken over. The room filled with the lewd sounds of her wet cunt getting abused, his growls, and her sinful crying moans. As he drills into her she starts to open up more and more, he's almost balls deep.

Nothing will ever compare to this, my pussy belongs to him now. I didn't think I could stretch this much, I feel like I'm gonna break, I'm stretched to the limit, it stings so good.

No pussy will ever compare to hers, I've never been inside anything so tight before, so wet. I'm never letting her go.

Her body has gone weak, only being held up by him as he drills into her. She's come so many times she's lost count, her body in a constant state of over-sensitisation, twitching and squinting making a mess. Each powerful thrust pushes her tear stained face into the bed, as her walls stretch to their limits, cervix being slammed with every ball deep thrust.

The fog clouding her mind is taking over, her vision going dark, her limbs completely weak, she blacks out her mind and body have reached their limit.

Did she pass out? She did, oh little darling got more than she bargained for but I'm not done and she did agree her body is mine and we're not done till I say so, so more of her swollen little cunt for me.

He's getting close, and his tentacles are a bit upset to have missed out on the fun when the game is almost over. They don't need to restrain her fully anymore so the set holding her waist releases to explore her ass. Her cheeks are already spread apart, her unsuspecting ass just waiting to be filled. Her body unconscious and relaxed, the tentacles twist together forming one and they begin pushing into her empty hole quickly.

This new sensation startles her awake, she lets out a yelp, very disoriented trying to figure out the new sensation. She felt impossibly full before but now she's just amazed at her body's capacity to handle so much. This stretch though isn't that good sting, this pain would be unbearable if there wasn't the pleasure of Draven drilling into her pussy. Another way of orgasms hit her, bringing her tired body back to the brink of consciousness again.

Her wave of orgasms has her clenching down hard, tipping him over the edge instantly and he spills a huge load deep inside her, filling her up. His seed adds to the lewd puddle of their arousal pooling on the bed, her little cunt just couldn't handle all of his load.

He pulls out, gets his tentacles to retract fully, and carefully lays her down on the lounge chair so he can clean up the bed. His poor little secretary isn't a match for his stamina, maybe with time she'll be able to go a few more rounds.

Once the beds changed, it was time to clean her up. When she wakes they can take a proper shower but for now a quick wipe will have to do. He gives them both a washcloth bath, taking care to be gentle with his little darling she did so good today. He lays her in bed making sure she's tucks under the covers, all safe and settled. He's not wiped out tired like she is, so he dressed, grabs a book and sits next to her bed, he doesn't want her to wake up alone.

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dnpanimationstudioclone · 3 days ago

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I REALLY lowkey want to see Charlie’s family stuff to have a moment like this. Warning spoilers(invincible fighting girl)

After being defeated by Quesa Poblana, wrestlers Ruff & Tumble strive to figure out her ultimate move & defeat her….unfortunately instead it led them to divorce & destroy their town bickering with each other about what way to do the move, making the place into a ghost town/terf war between their different dojo’s and neglecting their daughter who tried to destroy the war once & for all only for it to backfire, cause her to lash out & be driven away by them💔

If my theory about Charlie’s True intentions is true & revealed. Based on show dialogue.

Charlie- Please forgive me, I only did it cause I just wanted to-

Lucifer-So u admit it. This was all to bring your mom back? Why didn’t u just tell me that-

Lilith-of all the selfish, attention grabbing half-witted things you’ve done, this one really takes the cake! U think managing to get one sinner up to heaven was worth all the damage you caused!? And for me to come back!? Ugh, she gets this from you Lucifer! Bet u put this into her head!

Vaggie-Guys whoah, hang on. Let’s just calm down and actually talk about this to Char-

Lucifer-Hey don’t u dare put THIS one me! You always tried to keep her away from me! Always turning her against me! But then u got tired & left her too!

Lilith-Don’t u dare try to pull that crap on me, I didn’t make u do anything. U let me take care of her because you didn’t wanna end up creating another Eve! Yet somehow she still ended up a mess when I left!-

As they kept arguing,

Vaggie-I….didnt realize how bad it really was Charli-sees Charlie beginning to…lose it🍏

Don’t tell me u can’t see Charlie have or do something like this with her own family pictures(especilaly if it was shortly after Lilith first leaving).

I imagine they wouldn’t flat out just call Charlie a monster & cast her away, more like Charlie herself coming back to her senses after a crazy fight with everyone & running off in shame & regret, realizing everything she did was for nothing and is all alone💔

I can def see Vaggie be Andy, ripping into her parents if they start arguing over who caused that, how they both let Charlie down.

Vaggie- YOU BOTH DID THIS! All she wanted was you two! But u couldn’t put aside your own issues, not even for her! She wasn’t a monster, she was your daughter! With how u & the rest of Hell is(with how we’ve seen the sins & trial be, it’s clear Charlie doesn’t have a lot of positive role models to learn true proper authority from) it’s no wonder she did all this, she never understood what it meant….to actually be cared💔

I can def see Vaggie & the gang start to realize all too late just how much Charlie herself was suffering, struggling inside with her own demons & unintentionally leaving her all alone again…

Eve/Roo-History repeats itself.

What do u guys think? Could u see something like this happen with Charlie or any of the other characters? I’d love to know💖

#hazbin hotel #Hazbin hotel theories #charlie morningstar #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin charlie #hazbin hotel critique #in universe to go into Charlie’s character #Hazbin hotel critical #charlie #charlie Morningstar theories #lilith morningstar #lucifer morningstar #morningstar family #Vaggie #green apple charlie #fallen star charlie #invincible fight girl #mention #seriously love Bertie’s story it’s so tragic😭😭😭 I really hope she comes back & has a happier life

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valentine-cafe · 16 hours ago

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hi!! how have yall been!?

villain hubbies trying to make it up to reader after they had a nasty fight and accidentally said some nasty things

˖⁺. ﹙ multi monster villains x gn reader. ﹚ .𖹭 ݁

. . . forgive me baby !! 🍒 : villains ˖ monster character

your villanous husband attempts to apologise after an arguement in which he said some awful things. . . how does he go about it?

𖹭. ps : we've been great ! hope this is to your liking <3

﹙ Haoyu 9948v. ﹚. . . bloodshed of those you resent !! 🍓 : He was well aware of how mad he had made you.

A part of his twisted mind found great pleasure in it, however, at the same time he knew he could not return to the manor without making it up to you somehow. You were far too upset now. . . and he did value your affection, afterall.

So an idea popped into his head!

What better idea than to haunt those who have hurt you throughout your life. Each head making a loud thud against the floor, blood painting the walls and floorboards so beautifully. Oh you’d scream at the sight but to him the colour of crimson reminds him of his love for you.

Greedy hands snatch any and all belongings that would look stunning in your presence. Jewellery, your favourite kinds of cups, cutlery, clothes— anything.

His face met yours in the doorway to his abode. Smile bright and full of bliss as he trots inside with the mixed belongings in his hand.

“I know you’re still mad at me. . . but, I got you such precious items and surprises. Could we speak it out whilst you unpack my presents for you, baobei?”

꒰ phantom ˖ yandere character ꒱

﹙ Herrera husbands 209. ﹚. . . a tango of the ages !! 🍒 : arguments with you usually leave them quiet after. The both of them leaving you to your own devices for a while. They want to give you time and when they can see you want to talk it out, they approach.

Rishen is the first to murmur out a quiet apology after your own. Her thumbs settling on your cheeks to stroke across them gently.

“You know we never meant any of what we said, too, cariño.” She sighs, leaning her forehead against yours, while Jìngyí sways you both from side to side gently. Settling behind you.

“It was taken too far this time.” You whisper quietly in response to the apologies. To which they both agree.

“We know. . .” The doctor muffles into your shoulder, pressing a kiss to it before swinging you into dance together with his wife.

“But let us make it up to you, baobei. Would you have this dance with us for a while?”

“Only if you take me out for dinner after.” You chuckle, earning mutual sounds of amusement from the other two.

“Then that is a deal.”

꒰ snake monster ˖ mad doctor character ˖ mad scientist ˖ spider-mantis-moth character ˖ yandere characters ꒱

﹙ Hàoyu 1311. ﹚. . . manipulative charm !! 🍓 : darling would you listen to me?” your husband croons into your ear. Yet you push him off of your shoulder and huff. Getting away from the dinner table.

“Leave me be.” The grunt makes him tilt his head in dissappointment.

With a small sigh, he rolls his eyes and smiles softly. Following after you. Usually he values your privacy and your need to be alone. But he could clearly see you did not want to be left alone.

“We both know you don’t want me to leave you be, don’t lie.” He calls out, following you into your bedroom and leaning against the doorframe. Dioxazine gaze softened as it scans each and every little move you make.

“I want to be alone.” You insist, and look back at him. That beautiful tearstained face of yours. . . His sadistic urges make it incredibly difficult to not find the sight of you being hurt and upset a little bit adorable and endearing.

“Then let that be it.” He hums and shrugs, as if your emotions were nothing to him. You’ll come crawling back to him in no time.

And you do, gripping onto his arms as you let out quiet sobs for him not to go.

What perfect oppertunity to turn around and wrap his arms around you in tight apology.

“Let’s talk, baobei. . .” His words sneak into your ear with such ease. It doesn’t matter how many times you try to run from it. This man will always make you fold.

꒰ demon ˖ casino owner character ꒱

﹙ Alessio 1311. ﹚. . . sweet songs !! 🍒 : Your ears caught sound of the familiar strumming of guitar strings the second you stepped back into your shared apartment with your husbands.

Jìngyí had been the one to take you out with him after the argument you had with Alessio. The serpent man had only just arrived at the end of it, his milky white eyes catching sight of your tears spilling out your eyes were enough to whip you away and glare at the other man.

“Oh how precioussss.” Jìngyí sighs in slight sarcasm and makes his way towards the kitchen to put down the groceries you two got on your way home.

Almost instinctively, you walk into the bedroom to meet Alessio, his magenta eyes focused on the guitar strings. Long fingers work away at them to make melodies that could please the heavens.

“Alessio?” You mutter out. The call of your husband’s name immediately taking his eyes’ attention away from the instrument held delicately in his hands.

His lips are pulled into a slight frown. Gaze full of apology and regret that weighed heavy upon him, despite the hours that have gone by while you were out.

“Ah. . . Amor—” The bed creaks out in protest as he gets off of it and using it as a lean to support his guitar.

“I’m so sorry about earlier. . . Did fangyi and you have a good time?”

You look at him and then at the instrument, then back up.

“Were you making a song?” The sigh of amusement immediately made his attention direct back to the bed, his magenta eyes averting any contact yours attempted to make with them.

“You loooove meeeeeeee,” you start, only to be silenced when his hand claps over your mouth and he smiles.

“You wanna hear it?”

꒰ rockstar ˖ arsonist ˖ mecenary character ꒱

﹙ Jìngyí verseless. ﹚. . . little forget-me-nots !! 🍒 : And yet, the demon alchemist of the abhorration knew how to twist it into a potion of forgetting. With words of the argument whispered into the mix, so that the rest of your memories would be stored.

The argument never happened in the first place. His guilt was gnawing away at his demonic bones already that he had even argued with you in the first place.

So he mixed the small vial of liquid into your favourite drink and gave it to you.

Despite the huff of irritation you made as he handed you the cup. It all came down your throat. Sip by sip, you slowly began to forget why you had even felt angry. Until you didn’t even remember you’d been angry.

All you remembered was his loving gaze at you as you both shared a cup of tea. His smile and those devilish hands stroking at your knuckles.

“Tell me more about that costumer from earlier, an angel, you said?” He strikes up a new conversation.

“Right! That’s what I forgot to tell you. So this angel—”

꒰ demon ˖ necromancer ˖ alchemist ꒱

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philosophicalparadox · 1 day ago

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I think you are correct, but there is another element to balancing that is pretty consistent in Naruto, which is less balance and more “check” — many Shinobi teams seem to be organized that way, probably to keep teams from going AWOL or individuals from gaining too much upper hand. From that perspective, Sasuke is maybe not well “balanced” outside his personality, but he is well “checked” by both sensei and team, because:

1. Sakura is resistant to Genjutsu (she sorely needs help exercising this at first, but it is a latent talent)

2. Naruto is conversely very weak to Genjutsu, but he nonetheless keeps Sasuke’s dark impulses in check by being obnoxious and competitive with him, which serves the function of both Naruto being likely to snitch and also providing an outlet. Naruto can also theoretically out-stamina Sasuke (pre curse seal) which works out, because Naruto is tanky af and Uchiha typically seem to rely on efficient, well timed and hard-hitting strikes, which unfortunately can use up a lot of chakra. Knowing this, Naruto makes a decent counter because at the end of the day even if he does no damage, he still overwhelms in multiple senses, and provided he can tank or dodge that killer strike, will simply outlast his opponent (IN THEORY. Of course nobody knew that Sasuke was Mini Madara 2.0 power wise, which pretty much totally negated that safeguard eventually, but at the time it might’ve been the idea).

And 3. Kakashi. I don’t think I really need to explain that one lol. If nobody else can reign in an angry wayward Uchiha, then he can, both because of his own Sharingan and his experience.

Again I agree that personality is something that Konoha especially tends to strongly consider, because of their emphasis on teamwork, but there’s also a stratification aspect that seems to be pretty universal that teammates need to be able to both balance each other out AND keep each other in check in the event of conflict. Which one is weighed heavier, and HOW they’re checked, I think depends entirely on the purpose of the team.

The anime only (but still canon in my heart 😭) Team Ro is a good example. Tenzou, Itachi and Kakashi are terrible checks for each other, if the objective is to keep everyone alive. I mean, arguably Itachi and Kakashi are well matched enough, but poor Tenzou wouldn’t stand a chance at that point in time if they both turned on him, and might not even survive one of them turning on him. He’d have to kill them to stop them, and while he absolutely can, his abilities don’t lend themselves well against a Genjutsu specialist or a 5 chakra type using monster lol without having to resort pretty immediately to killing them outright. Similarly, like I said, Itachi and Kakashi are reasonably well matched at that point in time, but if they fought one of them would almost certainly die, and that would probably be Itachi.

The reason for that though is that they are matched very well, and balanced very well, by their personalities. I can’t picture a universe in which Itachi kills Kakashi unless he’s left with absolutely no other recourse, but the inverse is not as true. I don’t think at that point that Kakashi would want to fight or hurt Itachi, if for no other reason than that Itachi is good at being disarming, and because he is literally a child. (And those things are related). Similarly, while Tenzou would probably lose (again), he’s good at appealing to people’s better judgement, which keeps Kakashi from slipping back into bad habits.

So ability vs personality and checks vs balances are all different sides of the same cube I guess lol. How each gets represented in a team is different depending on their purpose and whatever background politicking is trying to stabilize things.

I’ve been trying to figure out how Team 7 is considered “well-balanced” because it’s pretty well known that

- Sakura and Sasuke (the two with the highest grades in their class) balance out Naruto’s lack of book smarts and help him learn along the way

- Sasuke and Naruto (the two strongest of their class) balance out Sakura’s lack of taijutsu skills and maybe help her develop them

But nobody ever talks about how they balance Sasuke out. Then I realized

- Naruto and Sakura (arguably the loudest and most extroverted pair in their class) balance out Sasuke’s hardcore introverted nature and maybe pull him out of the darkness

At least that’s what makes sense in my mind. All the teams were chosen to balance each other out and I don’t think they could be as easily changed as people seem to believe.

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rookdaw · 1 year ago

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monster X monster hunter

#baldur’s gate #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #astarion #wyll #I AM SOOOOOO NOT NORMAL ABOUT THESE TWO #IMAGINE BEING PERFECT FOILS OF EACH OTHER #BOTH TURNED INTO MONSTERS AGAINST THEIR WILL #imagining young wyll trying to court astarion and just being so genuine about it #as one of his first loves he wants to do everything right but is still overall (fairly) new to the whole thing #vs astarion who is much more cynical after 200 years of seducing victims #he knows how to play someone’s heartstrings like anlite and is overall very detached from the whole thing only #doing it to make aure wyll wont murder him or something #but then selune forbid it he starts to develoP FEELINGS FOR HIM KSDBBSJAJA #and then just as astarion starts to fall into love wyll almost falls out of it as he realizes astarion was LYING to his face the whole time #about liking him #and then there is DRAMA and a secret slow burn underneath what you THOUGHT was a fast burn #AHEM. anyways.#im gonna draw more of these two cause wyll is soooo slept on #pictured this as early in their meeting/relationship which is why wyll doesnt have horns yet #also *anlite i meant to type *a lute but shaky fingers #rip no tag editing

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mayhasopinions · 2 years ago

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i am going to throw myself out of a window

#inhales gloreth and ambrosius are both impressionable having someone they care for who are societelly percieved as monsters/villains #and because of society they've been turned against them against their own moral judgement #and ballister and nimona are more alike than i initially thought :'<#nimona spoilers #nimona #nimona movie #nimona netflix #gloreth #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #nd stevenson

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dirtytransmasc · 1 year ago

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[mild tw for marital rape/forced 'consent' its only referenced a little, but it feels necessary to mention it]

imagine Alicent only standing up for herself when Aegon is in the picture. Imagine her talking her son to her chambers cause he's fussy and won't go down for bed and was asking for his mum, and she has him tucked close, blissfully asleep, and Viserys calls for her.

she knows she can't refuse, but she tells the servant he had sent to make him aware of Aegon's state. he still demands that she be brought to his chambers and that the babe go back to his nursemaid. she looks down at her baby, who's now woken due to the disturbance, who is staring up at her with soft tired eyes, a little yawn escaping him.

she doesn't want to go, she doesn't want to be forced to take her husband, to pleasure him at her own discomfort. she doesn't want to leave her son, to have him sent back to bed where he will remain restless and in the care of someone who is not his mother. she had never want to refuse more than she did in that moment.

she hesitates, her facade falters. Aegon is still looking up at her as tears well up in her eyes. he quirks his head at her, fingers reaching for her cheeks as if to comfort her. with a sudden conviction, she takes him in her arms, rising from the bed, requesting a robe and a blanket. when her servant looks at her in question, she clarifies that she will be taking Aegon with her and does not wish to rouse him in attempts to dress him. they look at her with shock, but don't voice the concern written on their faces.

they bring her Viserys's favorite robe. Alicent recognizes it from her time with Rhaenyra and Aemma. she's worn it before, Viserys has made sure the servants bring it to her every time he requests her. she hates the way it feels against her skin, knowing why he makes her wear it. she wraps aegon in his blanket, soft and royal blue, his hands beginning to play with its golden tassles as she tucks him inside her robe, pressed to her chest with care.

even as fear bites at her heels, anxiety churning her stomach, she walks to Viserys's chamber with her held high. she knows she is only asking for her husband's wrath; she knows she should just obey him, but she just can't. her son will not suffer a sleepless night and horrid following day all because her husband feels the need to use her body once more. he will not suffer at his father's hands tonight, even if she has to endure Viserys's anger for it.

she enters her husband's chambers, finding him in bed, in a white night gown, clearly ready to use her; he was never subtle when he asked for her, not even the first time.

she pauses in the doorway, pulling back the robe slightly, making him aware of Aegon's presence. she watches his face fall, barely muted anger. she holds onto Aegon tighter. part of her fears he may hurt her for this disturbance, but more of her fears he will hurt Aegon on her behalf.

"I told the damned servants to take him," his voice is warped and cruel, just an angry scowl of sorts.

"Aegon is not well, dear husband... I could not leave him," she admits before he can say anything else. she puts her foot forward as a mother, hoping to claim mercy from the man who made her one.

he mutters something in response, not quite loud enough for her to hear. she has a feeling she is grateful for that.

"what was it you needed, my dear?" she tries to sound sweet and kind, in attempts to abate his anger, "I'm sure I could still attend to it."

"you know what I wanted," he yelled. it had been the first time he'd truly raised his voice to her. she couldn't help but gasp, stepping back one step, than two, stopping when Aegon began to fuss, curling around him instead.

"Please Viserys, the baby." she ducks her head down to press her against his whispy white hair. her son his huffing, as if about to cry, and she's sure if she could see his face, his little cheeks would be red and his eyes would be crinkled and wet, his lip puckered. she begins to rock him slightly, still afraid to move.

"your'e dismissed," he grunts, but his tone gives it away. she knows he doesn't mean it, the if she leaves she will be in more trouble. she questions staying, calling a servant to take Aegon and giving him what he wants, but decides against it. he would not come before her son, not now, not ever.

"I'm sorry, my dear, another night, when I do not have Aegon to tend to," she forces some cheer into her tone, "he is still so young, so helpless. he needs his mother. I'm sure you understand?"

"he is not the only one in need of you." he had not lost his anger yet. not even for the sake of his son.

"yes, of course. forgive me. only he is not as understanding as you, my love." that wasn't the truth, Aegon was more kind and understanding at a year old, than viserys was in all of his years. "I will leave now. I am sorry for the disturbance."

she pauses for a moment, waiting for her husbands reaction. when he doesn't lash out at her, she breathes a quiet sigh of relief, feeling as though she has evaded a great beast. her heart calms in her chest, slowing from its fluttering and her stomachs stops its dizzing ache. she questions turning and running, fleeing from his presence before he can change his mind, but knows better.

she hurries to his side, eyeing him all the while, each step calculated, avoiding cracking any eggshells, until she is close enough to kiss his cheek. he allows it, and gives Aegon grace when he reaches out for him, letting him play with his finger a moment, before pulling it away, not even turning away fully before sneering. she takes that as her cue to leave, this one being much more genuine than the last.

"goodnight dear husband." he says nothing. she takes Aegon's little hand, waving it slightly, "say goodnight Aegon."

her son tries to imitate her, though unintelligible, as a toddler would. she continues to smile and coo at him even when his father ignores him, not letting him feel his father's scorn, quickly turning towards the door and back to her own chambers.

the second the door is close she feels herself sag, she would have fallen to the floor right then and there had there not been kingsgaurd watching. instead she holds her head high once more, walking calm and steady, like a queen should.

Aegon settles his forehead against her collar, giving a great yawn against her skin. she smiles at him fondly, kissing his brow, earning a tired little giggle from him. it hits her that he is unaware of the trouble he just saved her from. she feels equal parts relief as she does terror; she hopes he never knows, never understands, but is so so thankful for it none the less.

the second she steps into her chambers she pulls of the robe, setting it aside carefully despite the pain it brings her, respecting the memories it carried. she pulls back the covers before smothering her and her son amongst them. he's quick to curl against her, quite tuckered out after their harrowing adventure, even if he was unaware of its true weight. she herself still wanted to cry, but was similarly too tired to keep her eyes open for another moment. tomorrow, she tells herself, tomorrow will be difficult, but tonight you have your son, tonight you have a chance to rest.

so she does, she holds him close, tracing fingers over the gold threaded patterned of his blanket, feeling the shifting of his chest as he breathes and the tickle of his hair against her neck. all is well in that moment. she drifts to sleep at the thought.

#omage to Aemma's robe that we see alicent wearing in episode 3 (I believe. it was when she was helping bathe viserys)#cause I know he made her wear it cause he's a monster #this is set prior to Helaena's conception. aegon is tiny. and alicent is still naive to the true extents of viserys's abuse.#especially to the fact that despite all of the love she holds for her children and how badly she wishes to always pick them first #his abuse and the stockholm syndrom that follow it will turn her against her children. aegon in particular.#maybe not against. but acrid and foul. her pain overtaking her love. she still tries so hard to protect them though. if you get what I mean #its otto's fault too and they should both die #anyway #I'm just in my feels with these two #we didn't get enough scenes of them together especially when they were both young and I wanted to give alicent a moment were she fought bac #she refused to give him what he wanted. she chose her child over him. she stood up for herself and what she wanted.#she earned that moment #I know she was choking through those “my dears” and “my loves” but she had to for formalities sake #angst in the front fluff in the back #even if the fluff is laced with angst #letting alicent be soft and love her son #I needed it #aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #alicent hightower #anti viserys i targaryen #pro team green #hotd #house of the dragon #I love them your honor

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