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esthercore · 3 months ago

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Sweetness Overload!! (HSR Men and Cute Stuff they do!)

Argenti has the most exquisite house (spaceship) garden, making you the prettiest flowers weekly, and jotting on a note, what each flowers symbolizes. He also often likes making you flower crowns or random flower art, and will tear up if you do the same.

Aventurine before you start dating liked making a whole show of constantly calling you wrong names every time making your frustrated with him, except when he tucks his coat around shoulders after he find you slumped in front of your computer during overtime, dead asleep, whispering a good night, and sweet affirmations, checking your breath and finally uttering an 'i love you' once he confirms you are asleep. I think after 173 total posts this is the first time i wrote aventurine not being depressed or traumatizing him more lol.

Blade makes sure everyone knows you are his. You two out in public? He will be all over you, arm around you shoulder or simply clutching you from behind, as you two walk, he likes holding you whenever. You are rarely seen out alone, in public, if ever. He likes being with you as much as he can. Good things barely exist in his life, so he's gonna hoard you all to himself.

Boothill remember everything you say or do, your likes and dislikes? Can list all in his sleep. Each and every order you place in your favorite restaurants? Saved in his cloud storage. Every single important date? Your birthday, your first kiss, the first time he met you, the first time you hold hands, your anniversary, everything.

Dan Heng is an amazing listener. Every trouble you got, just tell him all about it and let him kiss them away. He's an empath and will help you mentally deal with your struggles. After everything he has faced in and even before the shackling prison, the last thing want is for his lover to face anything remotely as same, so very protective too. Also, he loves your voice, love hearing you speaks, loves to fall asleep to it, and to wake to your pretty voice. His fav place to kiss you is your throat,

Dan Feng liked to doll up and gift shiny stuff to his little mate. Anytime he sees any pretty accessory or clothes, he will bring them home, almost a hoarding problem. Loved to see you in the stuff in brought you, or enjoy any of his gifts. The high elder's mate was very popular for the way they were dressed like a god/goddess head to toe with jewelers and the best garments in all the Xianzhou ships.

Dr Ratio other than the hundreds of your statues he made, he likes to learn about all your interests. Any subject you like, any conspiracy theory, any fictional book you are reading, any game/tv show lore, he wants to know it. There is knowledge in everything, and by knowing about your interests more, he would learn about more, and he desperately wants that.

Gallagher names all of his drinks after you. Something sweet? It's name after something he likes about you. Spicy? Something that makes you feisty. Bitter? Something you hate. The entire bar staff, especially Siobhan likes to tease you for it.

Gepard likes to draw for you, like a little child, 2 stick figures holding hand. Little picture of his dear family of 4 (you him and his sister), and stuff like that. Will cry if you put those drawings on the refrigerator or frame it, that's literally make his inner child so happy after the abuse he suffered in his childhood.

Jiaoqiu likes talking about you. Anyone and everyone who knows him or get to talk to him for more than 5 minutes, will know how amazing you are and how much he loves you.

Jing Yuan loves holding you. Just sit in his lap play your games on your phone and let him nap, his head resting on your shoulders, he can spend an eternity like this. He is his happiest when you're in physical contact with him, too much tome away from you and gets antsy and pouty like a kid, though he don't show that exteriorly, for the sake of his reputation, but for Yanqing it's quite obvious.

Luocha loves to take care of you. Feed you, help you groom, help you with any tasks, everything, nor is he the type to shy away from complimenting you, he is a merchant, he words are beautiful and filled with flattery almost like those anime butlers. You are his little prince/princess and he makes sure you know that with how special he makes you feel.

Moze will give the chocolate end of his ice cream cone. This man is very self sacrificing for his love. You are his top priority, and in his his you are worth more than him himself. His happiness in entirely based on yours.

Sampo like to make chocolates for you. Very random, I know, but each valentines day, he with the help of the moles, makes you homemade chocolate, even go as far as to craft the box for you. They are not the best nor the prettiest, but it comes from the bottom of his heart, also he surprisingly buys all the ingredients too rather than stealing them, so you better apprecite it.

Sunday loves to either sing or you to sleep, he would yap and yap, his voice so melodious, the lullaby he sings so calming and nostalgoc, taking you in his arms, and gently petting you. Other than his sister when she was a child, you are the only one blesses enough to hear this bird chirp.

Welt trying to use gen z or gen alpha slangs and failing (definitely tried using 'skibidi ' or 'rizz' unironically), trying to imitate the express trio's speach pattern, so he can be cool, and match up with you, despite his withering bones. Kiss the grandpa and appreciate his efforts.

I will write nasty Dottore smut to cleanse my sins of writing fluff soon! The next post will should be very big, so I hope I can complete before falling asleep.

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aenramsden · 8 months ago

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The following is not my idea; it was the original brainchild of a friend of mine named Omicron, with help from various others including EarthScorpion, TenfoldShields, @havocfett and ShintheNinja:

So, you know what I want to do one day? Run (or play in) a D&D campaign in which the Big Bad Super Dragon that is fuckoff ancient and unfathomably powerful and whose actions have shaped history and bent the course of nations and had repercussions on the whole culture and society in the region where it's set; the Bonus Special Boss for some endgame optional quest after you defeat the direct BBEG and win the campaign...

... is a white dragon.

To explain this for people not deep into 5e monster lore; D&D dragons are sapient beings, and known for their instincts and tendencies, and whenever you meet an big evil dragon that's really old it's usually this ancient creature of terrible intellect Smaug-ing it up all over the place.

Except white dragons are fucking stupid. Like, they're still capable of speech and thought! They're just… feral, hungry morons. And you almost never see them portrayed as ancient wyrms for that reason; they lack majesty. Critical Role did it, yes, but even then, Vorugal is explicitly the most bestial member of the Chroma Conclave, and the others are the more intelligent planners and long-term threats. An ancient white as a nation-defining endboss, though; not a thug for a smarter master but as the strongest and biggest threat around is just not the sort of thing you tend to see.

Adventurers: "Oh wise Therunax the Munificent, gold dragon of Law and Good, what can you tell us adventurers of the evil dragons which rule this land?" Therunax the Munificent, 500-year old Gold Dragon: "Good adventurers, know this: this land is torn apart by the evil of Tiamat's spawn. The eastern marches are the dwelling of Furinar the Plague-Bringer, black dragoness whose hoard is a thousand sicknesses contained in the body of her tributes. The southern volcanic mountains are the roosting of Angrar the Wrathful, the fiery red dragon, who brings magmatic fury on all who do not worship him. And the northern peaks are home to Face-Biter Mike, the oldest and most powerful of all, of whom I dread to speak." Adventurers: "F-Face-Biter Mike???" Therunax: "Oh yes, verily indeed; two thousand years has Mike lived, and his eyes have seen the rise and fall of five empires, and a hundred and score champions have sought to slay him; and each and every one he bit their fucking face off."

Like... I want to see a campaign where Face-Biter Mike is genuinely the most powerful dragon in the region, if not the entire world. Where sometimes he descends on a city to grab himself some meatsicles and causes a localised ice age by the beat of his vast wings and the frigid wastes of his mighty breath and by the chill his mere presence brings to everything for miles around him, and everyone just has to deal with that for the next decade. An entire era of civilization comes to an end, an empire falls, tens of thousands starve in the winter, all because Mike wanted a snack. Where his hoard is an unfathomably vast mass of jewels and artefacts and precious stones frozen in an unmelting glacier, except he is a nouveau riche idiot with fuckall appraising skill, so half of his hoard is coloured glass or worthless knicknacks, and he doesn't give a shit.

"Your Draconic Majesty, this crown is… It's pyrite." "Yeah, well, it's brighter than this dusty old thing made out of real gold, it's my new best treasure. Throw the other one away." "…throw the Burnished Tiara of Bahamut, forged in the First Age of Man, your majesty???" "See? I can't even remember its fucking name." "But my lord-" "DO YOU WANT TO BE A MEATSICLE" "…I will fetch a trash bag, your majesty."

But at the same time, he's not stupid, he's just simple, and in some ways that makes him more dangerous than the usual kinds of scheming Big Bad you see in these things, while simultaneously justifying why Orcus remains on his throne (because he's lazy). Face-Biter Mike doesn't make convoluted plans or run labyrinthine schemes; he just has a talent for violence and a pragmatic, straightforward approach to turning any kind of problem he struggles with into a problem that can be resolved with violence. Face-Biter Mike has one talent and it's horrifying physical power, so his approach to any complicated problem is "how do I turn this into a situation where I can fly down and bite this dude's face off?" with absolutely no regard for the collateral damage or consequences of doing so, because those are also things he can turn into face-bitable problems.

"My lord, the dread necromancer Nikodemion is using his undead dragons to attempt a conquest of the eastern kingdom; his agents are everywhere, his plans are centuries in the making, what can we do against such a mastermind?" "I'm gonna fly over the capital and eat the eastern king." "M-my lord???" "The kingdom will collapse without leadership, Nikodemion will win his war, he'll take the capital and crown himself king." "And that helps us… how?" "Once he does I'll fly over to the capital and eat him." "…" "This is why you advisors all suck. You're all about convoluted plans when the only thing I need to win is know where my enemy is so I can fly down there and eat him. Stop overthinking things."

And, like, yeah, it's a simplistic plan, but when you're several hundred tons of nigh invincible magical death, you don't need brilliant strategy; the smartest way to win a war is, in this case, the simplest. He's not even all that clever at figuring out the consequences of face-biting, he's just memorised the common consequences of doing so.

(If you want to go all in on Mike being the major mover and shaker in the region; Nikodemion only even has a pet zombie dragon because Mike killed the last dragon to show up and contest his turf but wasn't going to eat a whole dragon by himself. Nikodemion got to stick around and amass that much power because Mike ate the Hero of the Realm while he was adventuring because he figured the Hero would come and try to slay him at some point. Nikodemion got started because Mike ate half the leadership of the Academy of High Magic who typically keep evil wizards and necromancers in check. And then eventually this product of Mike's casual, careless actions becomes a big enough problem to bother Mike personally, at which point Mike eats him too.)

He doesn't even really fail upwards, either! He is regularly reduced to nothing but the glacier he stores his hoard in, but he's Face-Biter Mike so nobody wants to commit to actually ending him forever lest they get their faces bitten the fuck off. And his hoard's in a huge-ass magical glacier so nobody can get to it without running into the Invading Russia problem; it's hard to wage war when everything is frozen over and you're both starving and freezing to death. Once he's been beaten back to his central lair and has lost all his holdings… I mean, he's still a problem, but he's a far away problem. So he loses his assets and spends a decade in a cave brooding it up while no one dares risk trying to actually kill him, and then a generation or two later he flies down to a kobold colony and gets himself some minions, or a dragon-worshipping mage comes to offer his service against a pittance from his hoard, or a particularly stupid cult starts thinking they can get in good with him and leech off his power, and then he's (hah) snowballing again.

He's also got a very… well, the kind of weird Charisma that Grineer bosses do. Like Sargas Ruk, who's a malformed idiot, but oddly charismatic. As he's a dragon, that makes him a natural sorcerer and thus Charisma is all he needs. He's pretty relaxed when he isn't in a face-biting mood, and he's kind of infectiously optimistic, because his life has taught him that he will succeed as long as he perseveres. So he just believes it.

And sometimes that's really refreshing to work for, as an evil minion of darkness! It's like, you're coming to your Evil Dragon Lord with terrible news; you've worked for evil overlords before, you know how it goes. You fall to your knees weeping and tell him that you've failed to seize the incredibly powerful magical artifact, you think your life is forfeit. And he's just like "Eh, it's okay, these things are all over the place. Better luck next time. You remember the guy who took it, right?" and you go "Y-yes, oh great lord!" and he's like "Sweet tell me his name later and I'll grab it" and then eats a frozen adventurer he kept around as a snack.

His followers tend to quickly realise that if they fail him, bringing some temple's silver or a sack of brightly coloured beads or a couple of dead cows means he's super forgiving because at least he's got something out of the day. "Oh boy, cows? It's been forever since I had those, ever since the Orc Steppe Nomads took over it's all about goats and onions. Today is a good day." He's a master of delegation by dragon standards, in that he just tells you "Just go get it done, I don't care how" rather than micromanaging you and constantly appearing as an image in smoke or taking over your campfire.

The key part of Face-Biter Mike as a threat to players (because he exists in the context of a D&D campaign) works well in that you can rely on several known quantities:

He will not pull sneaky shit that you don't see coming

He will not make convoluted plans that you must work to unravel

He will consistently attempt to come down and wreck you personally if he finds the opportunity and you are a threat to him

You cannot fight him head-on (at least not until the last leg of the campaign, and ideally as an optional boss rather than mandatory)

So as long as you are good at staying under the radar, thwarting his minions (whom he gives broad orders to with almost zero oversight) and not putting yourself in face-biting range, you can deal with him. If you succeed, it won't be the first time Mike has lost his assets and had to go brood in his glacier for a decade or two before rebuilding. It happens; he can deal with it. And that's a win for you within the context of a single campaign, so take the win.

And if you're not going to use him as an enemy, he works pretty well as a quest-giver, too! The costs for failure are obvious and straightforward, and "do whatever, just get me mine" means that players have a lot of freedom in accomplishing their goals. As far as evil overlords go he is actually one of the least dangerous to work for; his pride is relatively subdued by draconic standards, his goals are simple and typically achievable, and he is easily pleased.

(There's also a good chance he is the forefather of any draconic sorcerer in your party, because Face Biter Mike is a deadbeat dad.)

#d&d #face-biter mike #I want this #writing #gaming #advice #funny #criticism #fandom

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flowerofbenevolence · 27 days ago

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Queen Maleficia Draconia Headcanons

TW: I have not read CH 7 yet, so this may be inaccurate and will be edited in the future!

"So you are the human that my grandson keeps telling me about."

Appearance:

She is envisioned to be extremely and timelessly beautiful, but also old-looking, like an older version of Maleanor. Like her daughter and grandson, she has dark midnight bluish-black hair, except it is slightly greying, or having grey streaks and is usually tied up into a bun. She also has yellowish-green eyes comparable to that of peridots, with long eyelashes and a few wrinkles beneath her eyes. she also has alabaster moonlight white skin, and of course, the famous, elegant, S-shaped horns that dragons and dragon-fairies are known for. Her attire would typically consist of the silver crown of the reigning monarch of Briar Valley, and long, black robes with green and silver accents as well as jewel and feather details.

Personality:

At first glance, Queen Maleficia seems to be cold-hearted, stern, and regal to the point of approachableness. But underneath that is actually a strong-hearted and passionate queen who loves her kingdom and people dearly, loved her daughter greatly, and is affectionate yet protective and strict towards her grandson. For that reason, many of her subjects praise her for her vast wisdom, knowledge, nobility, and being an amazing ruler. Humans, however, both fear and loathe her for her dark, cold aura and tend to take her inspiration for the villains of fairytales.

Background:

Long before the Human-Fae War started, Queen Maleficia actually had a human lover whom she loved very deeply, and promised to make him her king consort, regardless of how weak he was as a human and how short his lifespan was. However, much to her heartbreak, her human lover left her for a human princess, believing her to be much more beautiful, according to human beauty standards, and being much more "kind, graceful, and benevolent", which really meant her preferred softer, timider, and more insecure girls who suited his ego. Maleficia, following her draconic instincts (which many of us had assumed meant being jealous, possessive, and "hoarding their treasure"), was enraged, but kept her composure, knowing she had an image to maintain, being royalty and all, and tried to reason with him instead. She tried to tell him that beauty, especially human beauty doesn't last forever, and that she was the only one who would love him despite that and how his new human girlfriend's beauty would eventually fade. She also tried to tell him about how he would need someone wise like her to point out his flaws and faults and advise him so that he would be able to learn and grow as a person. When he got angry and continued to insist on leaving her, Maleficia finally snapped and decided her little human boyfriend needed a "punishment". She kidnapped his royal human bride and demanded ransom while torturing her. In the eyes of the fae, this was seen as acceptable, since fairies seek long-term relationships, strongly value loyalty, and believe that it is right to seek revenge when cheated on. Humans, on the other hand, were outraged, since they are more easily prone to cheating, being unfaithful to their spouses, but also moving on, and believed that Maleficia should be doing exactly just that instead of being a "jealous monster". As a result, Maleficia became the inspiration for numerous villainesses and witches in fairytales about "a princess who falls in love with a prince, but is hunted by a witch who is jealous of her relationship with the prince". Green also became a color associated with jealousy and envy since she often wore it, and sayings like "green-eyed monster" became invented. In the end, her human ex-boyfriend managed to rescue his human bride as well as severely injure her and return home where he was glorified as a hero. Centuries passed, and even when her human boyfriend died of old age and Maleficia found herself Malleus' grandfather, she still continues to resent her human ex-lover and the woman he left her for.

Ah, and of course, when the Human-Fae Wars started, Maleficia's hatred of humans increased tenfold, and when they killed her daughter, Maleanor Draconia, it was the final nail in the coffin.

Relationships:

Her daughter, Maleanor Draconia - Queen Maleficia loved her daughter very much and was very doting and protective. Afterall, she was basically a carbon copy of her and she would loathe herself forever if the same heartbreaking fate that happened to her happened to her daughter. That's why she was very wary of her son-in-law but eventually accepted him when he proved himself to her. She was beyond devastated when her daughter died and vowed vengeance against all the humans that caused her demise.

Her grandson, Malleus Draconia - Though she loves her grandson very dearly, she is very strict and protective of him. She acknowledges that he is the only heir left of Briar Valley, and how hard it was to hatch him. For that reason, she takes being his only living relative very seriously and disciplines him to become the perfect ruler that not only she, but the entire kingdom needs him to be. She also strives for his safety above all else and only hires the best guards and retainers to keep him safe. Lastly, she would also be very picky and judgmental if her grandson were to fall in love - not only would she hate to see her grandson get his heart broken, but it would be terrible news if the Crown Prince of Briar Valley was distracted from his royal duties.

Y/N - If Y/N was introduced to her BEFORE the overblot and she and Malleus were NOT dating and just friends, Queen Maleficia would be very cold and wary of her at best, harsh and hostile at worst. She wouldn't like how casual, informal, and intimate she would be with the Crown Prince. However, if Y/N was introduced to her AFTER the overblot while just being friends with Malleus, Maleficia would at first be shocked and refuse to believe it. Afterall, how could a magicless human possibly save one of the top five most powerful mages in the world??? However, over time, when she sees that her grandson isn't joking and hasn't gone insane, she would eventually warm up to you and be extremely kind to you. Afterall, you DID save her grandson's life. If Y/N was introduced to her BEFORE the overblot and while she and Malleus WERE dating, she would be ardently against the relationship. Not only would a dragon fairy crown prince with powerful magic dating a magicless human commoner cause numerous political and social problems, but she knows better than anyone else that humans can leave behind the most devastating of broken hearts even before they're dead. But if Y/N was introduced to her while she and Malleus were a couple AFTER the overblot, as mentioned earlier, she would be very reluctant to believe such a revelation but would eventually come to quite passionately, support the relationship. With that said, the most that you'll be is Malleus' future queen consort, and the least that you'll be is his mistress. If you were to choose the former, she would be overjoyed and along with all your royal fae teachers, teach you all that you need to know to be a member of the royal Draconia family as well as the future queen of Briar Valley.

A like is a punch to Queen Maleficia's human ex-boyfriend!

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cdragons · 1 year ago

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Bound by Embroidered Chains - Aemond Targaryen x Seamstress!OC x Jacaerys Velaryon - Prologue

Next chapter

Summary: Dragons have a habit in hoarding the prettiest of jewels, and pearls are of no exceptions.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ Future NSFW, Obsessive Behavior (we all knew this was coming), Childbirth, Future Sexism & Misogyny (this is Westeros), Political Struggles, Future Deaths, Dark Themes, etc. etc. Also translations for Valyrian will be added at the bottom!

Author's Note: WHO ELSE SCREAMED AT THE HOTD SEASON 2 TEASER TRAILER????? The costumes, the cinematography, the set design, FUCKING BAELA ON MOONDANCER???? But this idea was something that had been on my mind for a while, and I am really excited to share it with all of you! Shoutout to @valeskafics whose works served as a HUGE inspiration to this idea! If you liked reading this work, reblog and comment if you want to be tagged in future installments of this work! Also I apologize for any grammatical errors, I wanted to post this as soon as possible.

“PUSH!” yelled the midwife to the soon-to-be mother. “Lady Doreah, I can almost see the head!”

“Almost?” the poor woman cried out; her body had grown weary after experiencing a day’s worth of labour. Her hair clung to the sweat on her brow as the rest of her skin was soaked in perspiration from the pain. She cried out in agony as a gentle kiss from above attempted to soothe her from the torment that came with bringing new life into the world. Normally she would preen at such affection, but considering the circumstances she was in, she was in no mood for soft affections. “Ao nādrēsy! You did this to me!”

“Yes, my love,” agreed the man beside her. Unlike most husbands, Hotho Pyke refused to not remain by his beloved wife’s side during the birth of their child. He wanted to welcome the product of their love into the world with open arms. He was desperate to hold this new tiny babe in his arms as his fingers would trace over the features given to them by both their mother and father.

“You speak true my darling; I am a bastard. But if memory serves me right, it was my bastard birth that finally made you look my way after months of me begging for your attention. Well, that and a bit of my bastard tongue.” He tried to hide the wince that almost spilled from his lips at the furious grip on his hands in response of his wife. Even at the worst times, the man would never stop in his attempts to make her laugh. It was a most excellent quality in a husband in any other time but now.

“Gods help me Hotho – if this child does not come out of me soon, I will take my shears and cut out that bastard tongue of yours myself!” Doreah let out another scream as she continued to push her child out – although the pain was intense, the longing to hear the newest member of their family was greater than anything else she had felt in her lifetime.

“The baby is crowning!” exclaimed the midwife, who stood forgotten by the couple. “You are so close my lady, a few more pushes and you and your husband can welcome the newborn!”

This news filled Doreah with a newfound determination. Using every bit of her strength, she grasped her Hotho for support as she let out a furious yell as her body clenched to push out the newborn.

And after what seemed to both a lifetime and no time at all, powerful and shrill cries filled out every corner of the room. Not bothering to lean back against the pillows to rest, Doreah reached forward and demanded to hold her baby. She didn’t even care if you were a son or a daughter- you could have been a goat for all she cared. All she wanted to was to hold whomever had been growing inside her for the past nine months. She wanted to breathe in the scent of their skin and kiss their tiny faces. She wanted to love her child- her new world and her greatest love. Son, daughter, goat- Doreah knew that this child would forever be perfect in her eyes.

And perfect this child was indeed, and perfection suited their daughter.

Ten toes and ten fingers covered in blood, and kicking as hard an airborne goat, Doreah and Hotho wept as loudy as their newborn girl. It was only when the midwife insisted that she have the baby cleaned and wrapped in blankets were the two able to part with her. When you were returned to your mother’s arms, all felt right with the world as they continued to weep at the sight of the newest member of their small and strange family.

“Ziry's kesīr, īlva tala,” whispered Doreah with tears rolling down her cheeks. She looked up to gaze at her husband. “Gaomagon ao ūndegon zirȳla, ñuha jorrāelagon? Jurnegon rȳ zirȳla! Iksis ziry daor se olvie precious riña emā mirre ūndegīon!”

“I see her my coral,” whispered out her husband, whose face was soaked in tears in response to the overwhelming joy flowing within him. “Our pearl is beautiful. But most importantly, she is healthy and she is loved.”

He traced a finger across his daughter’s delicate features. Although you were currently sleeping, he knew that your eyes would take after hers, and he was ecstatic. There was a time when he believed that he would never love anything or anyone more than he loved the sea, only now there were two women in his life whom his love was consumed by entirely.

As the world slipped away into the background, the love from the new parents was so great it formed an almost impenetrable barrier surrounding them. But all peaceful things reach an end and theirs came from the knocking of a serving girl.

“My Lord and Lady…Pyke,” came a new voice, clearly disgusted by the act of referring a bastard as a lord, “if the Lady is presentable, the Queen Alicent would like to come in to see the child.”

“Oh yes!” exclaimed Doreah. “Please let her in! I would be most honored to have Alicent meet my sweet pearl!”

“My brightest coral, are you sure? You just went through birth. Queen or not, shouldn’t you recover before she asks your attention?”

Hotho Pyke was an impoverished bastard born from the Iron Islands. He knew how to predict wind patterns and navigate with the stars before he could write. His skills as a seafarer were so great that he caught the attention of Lord Corlys of House Velaryon who sat on the Driftwood Throne. But however impressive his skills were with a sail, there was still much to be desired with his knowledge of etiquette appropriate for the Royal Court of the Red Keep in the Crownlands. His raised brow and confused tone suggested that he believed his question to be one borne of common sense despite the horrified expressions on everyone else’s faces save for his wife.

“Hotho, ñuha jorrāelagon,” Doreah tiredly chuckled as she shook her head, “there is still so much for you to learn about the Red Keep. Please Jeyne, let the Queen enter. I want her to meet our pearl!”

Almost immediately, a heavily pregnant figure in resplendent green and gold came dashing into the room in hopes to be the first to reach the bedridden woman and greet the child.

“Doreah!” exclaimed out the queen, relieved that her dearest friend had survived the trials of birth with the result of a healthy child. “Let me see you! How are you? Are you sure you are well? Do you need anything for the pain?”

Doreah couldn’t help but laugh at the onslaught of questioning from her fretful childhood friend. Since they were still just young girls, Alicent Targaryen nee Hightower always worried about the seamstress’ health and wellbeing despite being a few years younger. She fondly looked back on the days when she and her would peacefully discuss about their days as they worked on their embroidery or took lessons from the Head Septa. Handing their daughter to her husband to hold, she reached out to her friend in attempt to soothe her worries.

“Alicent, I am fine. Truly, there is no need to fret so much.” Doreah reassured her friend before looking back to the love of her life. “Besides, I was never in any danger. Not with my brave Iron Knight by my side the entire time.”

Still holding their radiant babe, Hotho Pyke beamed at his wife’s tender words before laying kisses on her hands, her fingers, the top of her hairline, before eventually stopping at her lips.

Alicent, however, was less than pleased at the shameless display of affection shared between the couple.

“Ser Pyke,” – she refused to refer a bastard of all things as a lord – “surely you know that men are not permitted in the birthing room during the delivery. I thought that this was made clear to you when you first learned of your wife’s pregnancy.”

Not recognizing the insult in being referred as “Ser” as opposed to “Lord,” Hotho only took the queen’s words as a sign of worry for her favored companion.

“My mother would rise from her watery grave to string me by my feet and call me a cunt if she knew that I left my wife alone in bringing our child into the world. Besides, had I not been in the room, she would have let her vicious tongue loose on another unfortunate soul.”

“In any case, are you sure you should not be resting? You are carrying the King’s child, surely that takes priority over seeing me.” Doreah knew that this pregnancy had been particularly difficult for Alicent, recalling the many times she walked in on her kneeling before her chamber pots in emptying out the contents of her stomach.

“Nonsense,” replied Alicent, who shook her head at the statement, “there is no one more important to me at this moment than you, sweet Doreah. I just hope that your husband’s brash tongue does not influence such a young innocent.”

“Ah, no worries my Queen. The brashness of my tongue is no match for that of my wife. She proved that many a time in our quarters.”

The Iron Island-born bastard was promptly cut off by a swift slap on the arm from his wife.

Before Alicent could respond to such vulgarity, she was interrupted by the presence of another figure dressed in a gorgeous red and black dress patterned with masterful gold embroidery.

“Rhaenyra!” Doreah exclaimed in excitement, happy to have not one but two of her closest friends greet her daughter. “You did not have to come! Are you sure you are not currently preoccupied with your duties?”

“Oh, please,” the princess uttered, “what could possibly be more important at this moment than to greet the firstborn of Laenor and I’s closest friends?”

Walking over to Hotho’s side, Rhaenyra was entranced by the sight of the newly arrived babe. She could already see how you would grow to be the spitting image of your mother.

“May I hold her?” she asked with arms already reaching toward your father.

Looking back to his wife to make sure she approved of it, he carefully handed you to Rhaenyra – but not before he laid a dozen kisses on your face.

“Oh Doreah,” Rhaenyra softly cooed, “she is absolutely perfect. I can tell that she will grow up to be as kind and beautiful as her mother.”

“Oh, Rhaenyra,” tears filled your mother’s eyes at her friend’s kind words, “kirimvose.” She turned to Alicent, who was currently sitting beside the bed in a chair brought to her to ease the stress on her body from her third pregnancy. Your mother reached one arm to each of her friends as a way to show solidarity. “Thank you to the both of you. I would not be where I am now – so happy and full of love – without the both of you here to guide me through the Red Keep. I owe you two everything. I only hope that our children can remain as friends so that they will never know loneliness.”

If your mother knew of the cruel fate she thrust onto you with that wish, she would have given everything to the gods in hopes to free you.

Your father took you back into his arms before handing you once more to your mother. Although you had woken from your slumber, you made no noise. You only gazed at the figures surrounding you with wide and eager eyes. Ever so slightly, you reached out your hand to paw at the green fabric of the queen.

So young, and you already seemed to recognize the beauty in the custom-made garment.

Alicent laughed in a way that was so genuine that it seemed unfamiliar, fascinated by the fervent grabbing of her dress on your end.

“It seems that this little one will be a seamstress as well,” she stated as she reached forward to let you pull and tug at her sleeve in enraptured delight, “I can only imagine what talent she will possess.”

“What will you name her?” Rhaenyra asked, hoping that you will be blessed with a name with Valyrian roots.

But a shared glance between your parents showed that they had already decided a name for you far before this day.

“Ashirri, Ashirri Pyke” your mother confidently stated, “in honor of both our cultures.”

Your father grasped his wife’s shoulder in agreement. “We will never let our child feel she must restrict herself to one background. As her parents, we want to let her know that her world will be one of endless possibilities.”

On this day, Doreah Pyke gave birth to a child for her and her husband to raise. This child will be raised with so much love that it will not matter that you were born from two bastard parents, one from Essos and the other from the Iron Islands. No, you were born as a result of the love from two people from opposite sides of the world who miraculously found one another, and that was all that would matter in the end. Doreah would teach you an art that could only be made through masterfully crafted embroidery and needlework, while Hotho will teach you how to use the stars to navigate waters and open their horizons to an endless sea of possibilities.

And if you did not wish to become either a seamstress or a sailor, it made no difference to them. Westeros, Essos, the Red Keep, the Iron Islands – the world was your oyster, and you were the miraculous pearl.

Their child will not be like the close-minded fools of their homelands, but someone whose mind will be open to new opportunities and will never stop seeing the joy in discovering the unknown. And they would always be there to help guide you in any way the could. Nothing would ever come between the love your parents held for you.

If only the gods could allow for such happiness to last forever.

But dragons have a tendency to burn rather than create, especially ones with sapphire for eyes and strong blood in their veins.

Translations:

"Ao nādrēsy!" - You Bastard!

"Ziry's kesīr, īlva tala... Gaomagon ao ūndegon zirȳla, ñuha jorrāelagon? Jurnegon rȳ zirȳla! Iksis ziry daor se olvie precious riña emā mirre ūndegīon!" - She's here, our daughter. Do you see her, my love? Look at her! Is she not the most precious child you have ever seen?

"ñuha jorrāelagon" - my love

kirimvose - Thank you

Tagging: @valeskafics, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @asa-do-your-thing, @arcielee, @aphroditesmoon, @nighttwingg, @marvelescvpe, @nellychick, @its-actually-minicika, @biancaweasley

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd au #house of the dragon x you #house of the dragon fic #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon x oc #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x oc #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys x oc #aemond x reader #aemond x oc #reader insert

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naffeclipse · 9 months ago

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Please do elaborate 👁️👁️

@jackofallrabbits's and I made a new AU starring Dragon!Eclipse! A dragonborn-esque creature, he possesses red scales, a lashing tail, and a great crown of dark horns. He lounges on a great hoard of riches in his sooty cavern, but he hungers for more, a most lovely jewel to crown his possessions.

Y/N is a princess (gender-neutral). Beautiful and regal, you, unfortunately, catch Eclipse's greedy eye. His avarice leads him to kidnap you from your royal castle and smuggle you away into his cavern. He plays with you as a cat does with a mouse, and though you defy him and attempt escape after escape, he drags you back into his clutches. You must endure his posesssion, scalding touches, and forked tongue while awaiting rescue from a knight brave enough and strong enough to face Eclipse. With the promise of your hand in marriage to whoever can save you, several have already tried and failed, falling to Eclipse's teeth and claws.

Then two knights, celestial-like, set out to rescue the princess.

#dragon!eclipse #dragon au #jackofallrabbits #we have been obsessing over this guy

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extremely-judgemental · 4 months ago

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Imagine being a child or woman being abused in mountain camps without proper housing and learning there's a land of nirvana that your High Lord is keeping hidden for his precious people.

Imagine working your ass off in your court, governing your people and doing everything a High Lord is meant to do, only to find out the said High Lord is chilling in a secret city with his useless posse.

Imagine all the taxes you and your people paid for your lives being hoarded in a mountain cave by your High Lord and spent on people and city you didn't know exists.

Rhysand isn't buying shit for Feyre and IC with his money. Fuck Amren for flaunting those jewels. Fuck Feyre for wearing those crowns. Fuck Morrigan for drinking and partying.

And their nerve to shit on Spring's tithe.

Keir is right to ignore Feyre. He is a classic prick but he is right to look down on her and Morrigan.

#rhysand critical #feyre critical #morrigan critical #cassian critical #azriel critical #amren critical #inner circle critical #sjm critical #acotar critical #can't read between lines

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itsabouttimex2 · 8 months ago

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Primal Moon: Two

(I’ve created a new Character.AI bot to go along with this fic, by the way! ‘Primal Moon Mei’)

Twice a year; once in spring and once in autumn, a verdant moon rises to bring the bestial instincts of non-humans to light. Celestials and demons alike struggle to keep hold of themselves, something ancient welling up within them and shifting their thoughts and feelings to a more animalistic state.

“Be affectionate and kind,” says the voice of your elementary-school teacher, ringing in your head. “The Primal Moon might change your friends, but they’re still your friends. Don’t hit or yell, dears- you’ll only scare and upset whoever you’re dealing with.”

That lesson had been years ago, the first time you had heard this lunar phenomenon referred to by it’s true, scientific name- over the years, it had gained many different monikers.

Many people these days liked to call it ‘viridescence’. Years before it was better understood, it was called the ‘Green Surge’, only used in modern times by segregationists who viewed demons as inherent threats to humans. Religious folk see it as a time of internal cleansing, one’s sins leaving the body. To them, it’s the ‘Spring Tide’, a wave of unholiness exiting one through their connection with the rising moon. Lightheartedly across Internet forums it’s been dubbed ‘Prime Time’, photos of the green moon edited onto pictures of athletes and celebrities.

Your friend is a celebrity in her own right, actually. You had met her when she was live-streaming and struck up a quick friendship, the two of you near and dear to this day.

It’s the first time you’ve actually been around her during a state of viridescence, though- you had both lost track of the time as midnight crept closer, leaving you as perfect little treasure for Mei to take in hand.

She had snatched you right off your feet in her massive maw, hurrying your dangling form to a precious hoard. In it were countless possessions ranging in value, everything from worn childhood plushes to limited edition action figures to antique jewelry.

And you sat on it in the very middle, a sweet and soft crown jewel to be admired and adored.

Now, you look up to her. Her draconian eyes leer down at you, your image reflected in pools of endless yellow. Her head tilts in time with yours, scales twitching with each movement.

“…Mei? Are you alright, hun?”

Delighted by the affectionate nickname, a rumbling purr comes from deep within her throat. Mei adjusts her whole body, pulling you close with a coil of her emerald scales. Your best friend’s head dips forward and nudges yours, the tip of her large, pointed snout pressing against you before she hisses, her tongue flicking out. For just a moment, a strange black and red fire dances along the length of the organ.

Then, she starts to shift- from any other perspective, the event would be awe-inspiring. The graceful slither of her draconic body, each emerald scale glinting like starlight as it caught the sheen of the lanterns above.

There’s a low rumble in the back of her massive throat, a deep and thrumming call. Your best friend twists around until a certain portion of her glittering scales are in front of you- looks like she wants scritches.

“…even during a time like this, you manage to be a little cute.”

You aren’t exactly incredulous at that, though. Mei’s family is absolutely loaded, and they were rather strict and protective throughout her childhood- they had probably gotten her proper (and expensive) counseling to deal with all the problems that viridescence brings. So, although she was impacted as much as any other non-human, Mei was much better at controlling herself than most.

Slowly, you reach out to her scales, scratching at the defensive keratin with both of your hands. “Is that any good, Mei?”

Another rumbling purr comes from her throat, and Mei nudges you once more. Her long tongue flicks out, the wet organ rubbing against your face before slinking away back into her mouth. An incredibly hot sensation spreads where her tongue had been, a few degrees below burning.

It takes everything you have not to scream as the boiling saliva spreads on your cheek, but you manage to compose yourself enough to quickly wipe at the wetness with a sleeve, staggering away from her tongue. And then, in doing so, you lose your balance and slip, tumbling down Mei’s hoard. Near the bottom you land on her tail, feeling a feathery mass of green fur bind around you.

Mei lifts you slowly above herself, releasing you from her grip midair. You fall several feet into the massive coils of her body, feeling the dragon-girl knot herself around you like a python. Against your struggles you find yourself slowly consumed, twisted up like a pretzel in the folds of emerald scales.

There’s heavy pressure pushing on you from all angles, keeping your form locked securely in place. All of Mei is warm to the touch, blocking out the cold of the night. Still, aside from the cheek that had been smeared with fiery saliva, nothing outright hurts. She’s careful to not crush or strangle, though her grip is impenetrably tight. Constant purring rumbles her body, leaving you enfolded in what feels like the world’s coziest earthquake.

Warm and safe in the embrace of your best friend- there are worse ways to face the moon.

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Yandere Mei #Mei Dragon #Primal Moon #Fluff Fic

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 1 month ago

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banner by @/cafekitsune

Pairing: John Price x fem!OC (Rory Sinclair)

Word count: 1.5 K

Warnings/Tags: MINORS DNI, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, established relationship, monster hybrid au, ABO dynamics (sort of), werewolf female in heat, John Price has a breeding kink

A/N: inspired by @/bluegiragi's cod monster hybrid au. Dragon!Price makes my brain fuzzy

Title based off this song

The warm, caramelized vanilla scent of toasted marshmallows invades his nostrils, smothering him in the sticky sweetness of his lover's heat. Left to crave it with the insatiable hunger of an insect led to the honeyed nectar of a pitcher plant. Used for her needs, required to fulfill a biological demand.They might have been different species, but this dragon was no fool, he'd be damned if he wasn't driven the tiniest bit mad by his little wolf spread out on their bed, surrounded by pillows and blankets in her own hand-built nest fluffed and shaped on her own accord all so she could be taken by her mate in a time-honored tradition.

Breeding.

He could appreciate the effort she put in, but even more so it was the sight of her presenting herself like a good little pup. Her round, firm ass held high in the air, hips flaring as she arches her back on her hands and knees, wiggling her delicious curves at him – as if she really needed to tease to get him to join her. His fangs were already dug deep into his lower lip, his claws piercing into the palms of his fists, carving crescents into his rough, meaty paws, struggling to resist the temptation served up to him.

Fuck, she’s so willing and eager.

“Christ, Ror, look at you,” he growls, sweat beading on his brow as if the fires that burned in his belly were raging out of control. She was the catalyst that could spark an inferno.

Whining, she keens against the mattress, grinding her slick cunt along the bed, desperate for the friction. She's soaked, drenched and dripping, and the sight of the thin, pearlescent filaments of her slick drooling from her cunt and connecting her to the bedding make his heart race. Her heats always turn her into a feral thing, desperate for him, for his cock. A wanton creature of base, animalistic desires that ache to be sated.

“Please, John,” she mewls, her arms and legs shaking, her breaths a heavy pant as her skin glows with a sheen of perspiration that beads from her pores and fills the room with the cloying scent of her need.

“Tha’s right, darlin’. I’m here, just relax. Lemme take care o’ you, sweetheart.”

Her arousal is a palpable thing, he can taste it in the air. It clings to his taste buds like thick cream and he can't help but groan, his eyes rolling back in his head as if the scent itself can rewire his own instincts and flick the switch that begs to plant his seed inside her, giving her exactly what her every nerve and muscle is crying out for, to be freed from the burden of an empty womb. The dragon inside him begs to claim her, to mark her as his, a wonderful addition to his hoard. This pretty little lupine who has him wrapped around her little finger is the jewel of his crown.

Swallowing thickly, he rubs his hand down his mouth, steadying himself, regaining control. The last thing he needs is to let the dragon loose and harm her. Never her. Though this side of Rory tends to like things rougher, she’s wild, more intense, he still has to reel himself in. Her skin is so soft, tender, supple. The wrong move of his claws could tear her apart. She’s so small, a delicate little thing and she trusts him. He’s her mate, her protector, and it stirs every instinct in him to hold her close and never let her go, to never let anyone else touch her or come near. The greedy, territorial dragon that curls around her, huffing out smoke in warning at any who might dare trespass upon his domain. She was his to guard.

Climbing onto the bed, the mattress creaks and groans under his weight, and he can feel the heat radiate from her body, her skin burning with a fever that can’t be starved, it must be fed, if only to relieve the pain she suffers. God, he hates how her own body betrays her like this, how wet she is yet, at the same time, she wants to curl up into a ball as she grabs at the bedding, twisting it in her fists as she trembles beneath him, panting and moaning, gritting her teeth as she waits for the sweet release of his cock inside her.

He’s barely saddled up behind her before she’s grinding against him, scenting him with her sweet little pussy. The perfume of her need wafts around him in a heady aroma that he sinks into, pleased as punch to take up the mantle of her partner. The intoxicating thought that wolves mated for life twisting through the folds of his reptile cerebellum like vines. He’s lost in her already and he’s not even inside her yet.

Stilling himself, steeling his resolve to keep himself from coming instantly, he grips her hips and rubs his thumbs into the flesh tenderly. He knows her body, intimately, both as a lover and as her captain, and it's a thrilling notion that never fails to stroke all the right parts of his brain. He pumps himself in his hand, once, twice, feeling the thick girth start to throb in his fist and he can’t hold back any longer. Dipping into her slick, he teases her entrance with the head, making her claws dig into the mattress, kneading it like a kitten as she mewls and growls at the back of her throat.

Tail swishing back and forth behind him, it thumps cartoonishly as if it has a mind of its own. The constant drumming of it against the bed like a metronome of his passion, keeping time with his racing heart and his pistoning hips as he takes her deep.

“There she is,” he purrs, slipping into her with ease.

His arm coils around her, holding her soft body against the hard planes of his form, fur brushes against scales in a feather-light kiss. A clawed digit finds its way to her folds, and her clit is already stiff, pulsing as the blood flows to her puffy, plush pussy. Rubbing it in slow, gentle circles, he coaxes out a ragged cry from her lips.

Melting forward into the mattress, her eyes flutter shut as she moans long and low, the sound of perfect pleasure. There’s no resistance from her, no playful push back, she gives into his touch in totality. “Fuck, John… just like that, love,” she breathes, her head hanging and she loosens underneath him like an unraveling knot.

He smirks, pride filling his barrel chest, eyes crinkling at the corners, dimples creasing his cheeks. He’s on top of the world right now and it only gets better as she bucks her hips back against him, driving him into her right to the hilt, building towards that sweet release they are both racing to.

This is it. There’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

The head of his cock brushes against her cervix and she howls, her velvet walls clenching tight around him. It's enough to flood his mind with images of her belly made round and full with their pups, her pretty little tits swollen with milk. He can’t stop the guttural groan that builds from deep in his chest.

She’s too much, too fucking perfect. She had him from the first moment he caught her scent and she smiled at him.

When she moans out the word “Alpha”, his breath hitches. She's never used the term before and it sends him reeling, his head spins. It makes him feel like a king, a God, and his dragon side roars at the idea. Ownership. A claim. Her Alpha. His Omega. The beginning and the end. A pair bound to each other, their very natures interlinked. Two halves made a whole, and bringing forth new life.

The heat boils in his gut, twirling bands of steam rising and warming the blood in his very veins. He tries to stop himself, biting his lip, roaming his hands down the tense muscles in her back, groping the soft swells of her breasts and rolling her nipples, his fingers following the trails of sweat that bead down the curves of her body.

“Christ, love, I’m so fucking close.”

“Please, John… Please…”

The whimpers, the pleading with him to give her what she needs is enough to crack any strength he had left to last wide open. His wings flutter as a shiver runs down his spine and he plants himself to the root, her creamy slick coating him as his seed fills her. Springtime in a garden that he wants to watch grow.

Their thighs are wet, muscles quivering, limbs trembling as he wraps his arms around her, nuzzling into her neck, breathing her in deep. She smells like heaven and a low rumbling sound of contentment vibrates through the both of them. He trails kisses down her neck, his lips wrapping around the old mark on her neck, the scars left behind from where his teeth had sunk into flesh, and he sucks softly as a reminder of who this little wolf was tied to, remaining connected until it finally takes.

NSFW taglist (no pressure to read of course): @roofgeese @efingart @josephseedismyfather @g0dspeeed @cloudofbutterflies92

@imogenkol @inafieldofdaisies @spookyrares @evvie-a @an-drawer

@clicheantagonist @rc-dragons @la-grosse-patate @direwombat @statichvm

@cassietrn @lady-eudaemonia @strafethesesinners @thedeadthree @voidika

@strangefable @simplegenius042 @writeforfandoms @elligatorrex

#cod smut #cod fanfic #john price #dragon!price #werewolf!rory #oc: rory sinclair #call of duty #ship: you are the sword to my shield #skelly writes

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