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thewritetofreespeech · 3 months ago

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In the Dark

pairing: Aemond x Targaryen!reader [Rhaenyra & Daemon's daughter]

summary: one night, while coming back from the Street of Silk, Aemond runs into an all too familiar figure in the dark. request from @brideofcthulhu10

tags: married reader, targaryen incest, tw: knives, tw: mentions of potential SA

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The Street of Silk was never quiet, but they were usually a bit more subdued this time of night. Aemond had planned for it this way.

Leaving the comfort of the palace to find comfort somewhere else, the prince always snuck out under the cover of darkness and returned just the same. No one the wiser. No one able to catch him and mock that he would be out here with whores instead of in bed with his wife. No one able to know what he was really doing here….

The prince adjusted his cloak to pull around him to make his way back to the secret tunnels of the castle. He rounded the corner and paused as he caught a glimpse of another figure in the streets. Not unusual, but not the usual sort either. Aemond’s good eye scanned the potential witness and noticed that their cloak was made of much finer material than any other in Flea Bottom. Too nice for peasants, though it clearly made efforts to seem plain.

Aemond growled through his teeth as he realized who it was. Even with the cloak, those whisps of silver hair that snuck out of the hood are a dead giveaway. Although Aemond had already memorized the gait. “What are you doing out here?” He hissed at his wife as he appeared behind her like a shadow.

You spun around fast. Wide eyed in startled fear, which quickly faded when you realized it was him. An odd feeling for Aemond, as it was usually the other way round when people realized it was him. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“What are you doing out here?” He repeated, still hissing, but more from the whispering now. “What are you doing outside the castle, alone, at night, without an escort?!” His blood boiled with each new remark to his list. Aemond thought his wife clever for a time, but he would have to rethink that in this lunacy.

You glared at him. “I do not need an escort.” You insisted. “And what are you doing out here? Last you told me; you would be with Ser Cristion for the night.”

The apple of his throat bobbed, but Aemond refused to admit he gulped at the accusations of his wife. True, they were both at fault here. Sneaking out unbeknownst to their people and partner. The only difference was that Aemond’s transgression did not come with the inherited danger a young lady, alone, in the middle of the night had. Your life was not your own now, and Aemond was angry that you were being so careless with it.

“That is immaterial. You do need an escort. What if I had been a stranger in the dark?”

“I can handle myself, Aemond.” You continued to insist. Why did the Gods have to give him such an infuriating woman as a wife? “I’m not the soft petal that other women in the palace are. I’m a Targaryen.”

True, you were not as soft as the other ladies. Rhaenyra may bare bastards left & right, and Daemon may be an opportunistic lech, but they had done right by their daughter. Teaching you to not only be an adequate lady of court, but also a skilled rider, both of dragon & horse, and how to defend yourself. Targaryens were never short of enemies. It was best to be prepared. But their Targaryen jewel had not been trained in the same way Aemond had. More how to hold a knife and properly thrust when the moment came, but not actually overcome a group of attackers if swarmed.

“Targaryen’s bleed just as much as anyone, ābrazȳrys.” Aemond told her. Stepping close. You predictably take a step back away from his ire. “We are not immortal like our beasts. What would you have done if I had been another man? Two men? Twenty?”

Your back eventually hit a walk. Locked on with Aemond’s eye as you felt a swell of fear in your belly at his words. “I…I would run away.”

Aemond cruelly laughed at your answer. “You would outrun twenty men? You’re fast, byka ābrazȳrys,” he remembers the races they had when they were children, before he sprouted to his current height, “but not fast enough to outrun twenty.” He then used that impressive height of his to quell around you. His arm coming up to place his hand against the wall. Blocking one exit. “What would you do if I had been a stranger in the dark?”

There was a tense moment between you. You felt trapped. You have to force your body to stay still and not tremble. “Stop it Aemond.” You hiss as you try to push him away. He’d made his point. Perhaps this was a bad idea. But you would never admit it.

“Who's Aemond?" Your eyes flickered up to him as Aemond’s voice sounded different. Void of the subtle hints of affection he had for you, and stone cold. A blade was suddenly out from by his pocket and by your throat. “I'm just a faceless, masked man in the dark.”

Your back went straight against the wall as you tried to create as much space as possible between you, Aemond, and the knife. “S-Stop it…”

“Make me.” Was his reply. “You’re a strong, capable Targareyn, aren’t you? Make me stop.”

You realize you can’t. You’re too afraid. This was indeed Aemond, your husband who loved you, but your mind kept thinking on what if this wasn’t Aemond. What if this had been a strange man in the dark? What is this wasn’t a test but truly real? An enemy of your mother? An enemy of Aemond? Or just a man like so many in the city who pulled women into dark alleys and forced them to their needs? What if this had been real?

Aemond saw the fear welling up inside you as tears came to your eyes in panic. He put the knife away and leaned in to give you a kiss. His build softening around you as the point had been made and the ‘game’ was over. You cling to Aemond in relief. Like a life raft out to sea. Overcome with emotions you kiss your husband desperately in a manner unbecoming of commoners in an alley, much less royalty.

Aemond kissed you back with equal fervor. Never missing an opportunity to kiss you. Relief also washed over him as well, thinking on the what-ifs if he had not run into you and another man did. What could have happened to you. The prince growled possessively at the thought and ran his hands over your body to claim it from these imaginary brigands. You moaned against his lips. Breasts heaving as you pant against him while his knee slid up between your legs as he bucked against you. “Let us go home issa jorrāelagon.”

You nodded fervently. You just wanted to go home now. Be with your husband. Be in the palace walls. Be safe.

The prince released you and the two of you walked back through the cobblestone streets for the tunnels. “Why are you out here anyway, issa jorrāelagon?” He realized you had never answered him.

“Father told me once of a spot past the Iron Gate that, if you look out at it at sunrise, you can see Valyria.” Aemond resisted the urge to roll his eye. What a ridiculous story. Valryia was leagues away. He’d barely come close to it on Vhagar; though in truth he would never fly near the place after what happened to Princess Aerea. “I know it’s silly, but I wanted to see it.”

“Why now?” He asked. You had lived in King’s Landing on & off for most of your life. Had you wish to see ‘The Valyrian Sun’ (yes, he knew what she was talking about) you could have done so at any time before. Why now, alone, when such danger was about for them?

“In times of trouble, I look to the Old Gods more, like your mother looks to the Seven.” Daemon’s influence, no doubt. Or perhaps it was just her own. Aemond parroted the phrases and did the prayers when asked by his mother, but he would not truly say he was bound to one set or the other. “I thought it might bring me some clarity on things. Some answers.”

“Answers on what?” You don’t answer, which made Aemond suspicious, but he doesn’t pry further. “Why didn’t you just ask me to come with you?”

“I thought you wouldn’t go if I told you it was something my father taught me.”

He frowned. Did you really think him that petty of the man that he wouldn’t go just because Daemon Targaryen taught of it first. “Come. This way.”

You do not have time to react as Aemond took your hand and pulled you down a different alley. “Where are we going?”

“The proper way.” He told you. “You were headed for the Dragon’s Gate. Yet another reason why you need an escort.” You frown at Aemond’s slight but follow after him.

The two of you meet the ‘Valyrian Sun’ together. There is no cast of Old Valyrian in the sun beams, nor any of the answers you seek. But when you turn to look at Aemond amongst the sunrise, you feel some kind of peace. Some kind of answers. “Let’s go home.”

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yandere-sins · 3 months ago

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Monstober - Day 5: Naga/Lamia [Elemental Sacrifices Part 1/4]

I am fashionably late and since this story was supposed to come out on my birthday I switched the prompts since we all know Nagas are my roman empire, hehe >:3

Also this is part 1 of 4 of a little mini-series happening in this Monstober Challenge, and I will lovingly call it the Elemental Sacrifices. I know we already had a sacrifice before, but what if—hear me out—we have 4 more? Yes, I thought that was a good idea too, glad we agree :D

(They are not much related aside from the concept, but they are in the same universe, so maybe there's some potential for future ideas! :D)

Prompt: Day 6: Naga/Lamia | Scales // Wrapping around // Poisonous Warnings: Yandere, AFAB!Reader, Sexual Actions (Dub-Con, Use of Aphrodisiac, Drinking said Aphrodisiac and getting it stabbed into your arm, Deep Kissing, Accidentally cutting your own tongue, Fingering), Violence (Biting with fangs, Description of (meager) fighting, Cutting the enemy, Blood mention), Monsters + Descriptions of Monsters, Light self-degradation, Long Post

The tradition had always existed.

From the moment you were born, you were told about the sacrifices made to the four gods, which took place twice a century. The four tribes would unite in peace and unity for this month of reverence, choosing their sacrifices carefully and laying down their weapons to organize and strategize the ceremonies so that no god would feel aggrieved. It was a wonder that people that worshipped different things, lived by different means, and usually clashed like hot and cold, light and shadow, could work together meaningfully to pay their respects, assure that everyone would continue to be in the favor of the different gods that roamed the lands you lived on.

And yet, somehow, it had always worked out.

"There, almost done," your mother mumbled, curling your still-damp hair around her finger so it would frame your face. You clenched your fists in your lap as you sat in front of the mirror, unable to even look at yourself without retching. 20 years ago, when you were told the stories for the first time, no one had assumed you'd be the one to be sacrificed in the next ceremony. No one informed you that your days were numbered, your purpose to be nothing but monster fodder.

Because that's what they were, monsters, nothing more, nothing less.

A two-headed snake, an ancient tree, a tentacled beast, and a fire-spewing reptile with wings—those were the four monsters you and the other tribes worshipped with offerings and sacrifices. All your life, you practiced the mindful handling of the teachings, learning how to hunt, fight, and serve your god. But even so, just because you were born the child of the leader, you were going to be discarded by your own people, and your hatred was as fiery as the vulcanos that surrounded your homeland.

"I heard the water tribe sends their most wonderful singer this year, too."

It was a frail attempt at small talk, and you couldn't care less about how pleased your mother sounded as she told you about the other sacrifices. The other poor souls that probably wanted nothing more than to run away about now. You had hidden your tears very well with your head hung low, but you couldn't imagine the other sacrifices felt any less miserable as you did.

You had plans for the future, plans that involved leading this tribe and creating a family sometime. Maybe participate in a war with the other tribes and show off the prowess of the fire tribe leader's oldest child. It was in the nature of your people to be strong and powerful, as was the exceptional artistry of the water people.

"And the earthclan sends another one of their scholars. I don't understand why they think the nature gods would like all these people hiding with their noses in their books, but I'm sure they have their reason for choosing them. Oh, but the wind people are also sending their ruler's child, just like you!"

A tone of pride swung in her voice as she continued arranging vividly red flowers like a crown in your head, pulling at strands of your hair to wrap them into the stems so they'd hold. "And yet, you'll make the prettiest sacrifice of them all. You'll make us all so proud!"

Inside of you, a war broke loose. A war you knew you couldn't win as you knelt on the floor of your childhood home, the place you always thought safest in all of the lands, yet it was no longer the place you'd return to after this expedition. All your good deeds and all your achievements were for naught because when the announcement was sent out that the sacrifice was going to be held that year, it ended your life instantly.

A part of you knew it could happen. Although you never wished this fate on anyone, you had always hoped for a sibling, born or adopted into your family, that could take this responsibility from you ever since you learned of it. Other tribes voted. They chose by luck or by skill at the time of sacrifice. But not yours. Yours had traditions, which meant the leader's strongest family member would go to the gods and ask for their blessings. Get eaten in exchange for a promise of safety and prosperity that the monsters could easily break on a whim. Returning would mean the blessing failed, so that wasn't an option. If you couldn't appease them alive, you would do it with your death. The ultimate sacrifice.

"Now, you're perfect. Look at you, my pretty child."

Pushing her fingertips into the underside of your jaw, your mother forced you to look up into the mirrors. Tears tumbled from your eyes as your head snapped upwards to avoid the discomfort of her nagging touch, and you watched her expression fall in her reflection. Not from sorrow, mind you, but anger.

"This is your duty," she reminded you. "Now that you have grown up and proved your worth, you should feel honored to be chosen."

You bit your tongue, swallowing the disrespect you wanted to voice. You couldn't care less about the sacrifice, about gaining the ire of some monster that some old people had decided to worship. About your mother's opinion or that of anyone else!

Deep inside you, you were afraid. Fear, first and foremost, had always been your teacher. It showed you the boundaries of your abilities and pushed you to perform deeds beyond your capabilities in times of need. It wasn't something to be ashamed of or scolded for; it was natural and normal.

But right behind it was anger. Anger at this tradition, anger at your family, and anger at the monsters for demanding lives in exchange for peace. Gods they called themselves, but there was nothing godly about how they conducted their demands. They were cowards with a taste for human blood, and instead of fighting and being slain by those humans, they demanded sacrifices to satisfy their hunger.

And there was nothing you could do to save yourself.

If you rebelled, you'd be dragged out by your limbs and hair, even if that destroyed the work they put into prettying you up. Who needed to be pretty when they'd be eaten alive? Still, as a warrior at heart, you couldn't imagine a greater shame than to force your friends to bring you to that dreadful sacrificial space, even if they might think it was for the greater good. If you had to go out, you wanted to do so with your head held high, no matter how foolish that pride of yours was. It was better than to put your unfair death entirely into the hands of others.

If you were going to be a martyr, then you'd at least die fighting until your last breath.

---

"That's far enough," you announced, coming to a halt at the edge of the lush green forest you used to hunt in. Before you, vulcanic stone spread in dark hues as far as you could see. Ash filled the air, mixed with the taste of metal and fire. Nothing grew on the stone ground, it was as welcoming as a death threat. Veins of red broke through the stone, leading to pools of lava that was cooking beneath the stone surface, the air simmering from the heat that immediately greeted you, coating your skin in a sheen of sweat. Once you had found the duality of this place beautiful. Now you dreaded it, hands curled into fists as you took slow, steady breaths to calm yourself.

"I wish to face the gods myself."

"Go forth then. Make us proud," your father expressed, resting his hand on your shoulder. A simple squeeze was all you got, and much like your mother who hugged you before your departure, their gestures were too brief to be any comfort. You wondered how they could have possibly come to terms so quickly with losing their own child when you, the one to be sacrificed, were struggling with your fear and pride.

Every step on the hot floor was like a stab of a knife in your back. The hunting party that had accompanied you watched as you continued your journey towards the sacrificial space the ancestors had created, their gazes like whips that spurred you on. But they didn't linger. Since they didn't have to tie you down on the altar, they had no reason to watch the gruesome death of their own kind, knowing that either way, you weren't going to return. You knew the way back to your village like the inside of your pocket, years of roaming the jungles teaching you how to go home. But they'd kill you before you cursed the village with your failure to be sacrificed. Merciless, cold. You were no longer a part of them. You were a meager part of the tradition now.

However, the way to the altar was actually more of a challenge than going home. You had only been there once as a child, laying flowers down for your uncle, who had been the last sacrifice years before your birth. Your father may have called him your uncle, but it turned out he was an adopted orphan who ended up paying for his dedication to your family much later. Your father seemed unsympathetic towards him, but it dawned on you that he must have never been close to this brother of his, probably knowing the fate that awaited him.

You never knew your uncle, but back then, you had been proud of him, too.

That day was also the first time your father explained the traditions and the importance of keeping them up. How much honor it brought to your family and how many lives it saved to lose one person. You wondered why, after he taught you so many skills, worked so hard to make you a respected member of your tribe, and loved you like a father would, he could so easily send you to your death. But it slowly dawned on you what kind of person your father was. One that didn't truly cared for his "family", only for his own pride and gains. And you had been so easily fooled as to believe him all this time.

It took you much longer than you remembered, but eventually, you reached the grounds your ancestors had created for this spectacle. It was close to the foot of the volcano, an altar erected from the stone sprouting from the ground with nothing else present in this wasteland. The heat had increased substantially over time, every breath burning in your lungs, your eyes dry, and your feet chafed from walking over the smoldering stone for so long. Dread was no longer a constant companion as acceptance slowly crept into your mind. You had seen the bones of many humans on the way to this place. Apparently, not everyone had been so lucky to have made it this far, either the environment or the monster killing them before they reached the altar. Or maybe themselves, now that you thought about it.

The sight of the raised altar forced a shuddering breath out of your lungs, the stinging sensation barely enough to distract you from the blaring truth. You were going to die. One way or another, you would. Touching the side of your leg, you felt the leather holster beneath your dress. The dagger you sneaked would probably not be enough to kill the monster, if there ever was one. Still, if you could inflict some damage to it, perhaps your tribe would one day snap out of the trance that it was this immortal threat that your ancestors appeased by offering their own children to it. Maybe they'd see the wounds and realize they didn't have to cower in fear of it, and thus, maybe your sacrifice would not be in vain.

Brushing your hand over the warm stone, you felt an untypical cold shudder run down your spine, knowing it was meant to be your deathbed. You wondered how many before you had laid here, waiting for the monster to come. How many had prayed, hoped, and begged to be saved, and how many had fought and struggled like you were going to. Following in their footsteps now, you knew they did what they thought was their best. That was the greatest honor you could bestow on them.

You hoisted yourself up, struggling to climb on top of the massive stone slab, before you sat close to the edge and stretched out your legs, feeling the burned and chafed soles of your feet crack as they finally got some rest. Hissing, you were confronted with the pain, yet you only sighed, swiping your hands over your face to free you of the sweat that was desperately trying to cool you down. Even if you were used to the warmer temperature of your home, it was nothing against the volcanic heat, and you almost admired it for burning for so long, never bothered by anyone. The air was as heavy as your soul felt, trapped in your body and scared to the heavens.

Imagining the snake did very little to soothe your mind, but you still tried to prepare for the shock its sight undoubtedly would be. You imagined a snake as tall as a building, with two heads splitting apart at one end. Heads with sharp fangs and venom dripping out of their mouths, eyes that ate you up before their maw even got close to you. It would slither over the ground, nimble, avoiding the lava pools, but too large to hide behind the wasteland it reigned over. Bloodlust urging it on as it smelled the sweet fragrance of the flowers on your head, which were delighted to bloom in the warm temperatures. A green tail? Brown? Perhaps a little of both? Maybe its scales were dark red like all the blood it drank from the sacrifices.

"Look at that, they do sacrifice their own kind."

Deep in thought, the heat probably having gone to your head, you hadn't noticed the chafing sound that slithered closer from behind. Only when someone suddenly spoke did your mind alert you of the danger, and you jumped down from the altar, swiftly spinning around and bracing yourself. One hand hovered over your dagger beneath your dress, and the other arm stayed defensively in front of you. With the distance you managed to jump and the massive altar separating you from the monster, you were at a surprising advantage, and it felt good to have the upper hand.

Your eyes widened at the sight of two men standing behind the altar, one of them leaning down on the stone surface right next to where you had sat. In contrast, the other stood straight with his arms behind his back, but both watched you with burning intensity. Immediately, you noticed their similar appearances, the light grey hair falling from their heads, bound by braids, and still with countless strands falling over their exposed chests. Their eyes were like marbles, reflecting the different colors of the area in them, elongated pupils slightly vibrating as they fixated over and over on you. But what really put you off was their size. Their legs must have been easily as tall as the altar, and that was no size a normal human should have had.

"Mother never told us sacrifices were this cute."

The man leaning on the table rolled over on his side, his hair splaying all over the altar in waves. And yet, even while moving, his gaze never trailed off—but yours did. You let out a horrified gasp as the scaled tail of a snake buckled and arched to accommodate the man's movements, and with a surprised jolt, he reared upwards, exposing even more of the tail that started at his hips.

A moment of silence washed over you three, and you felt incredibly exposed and stared down by two pairs of eyes as if they were pinning you into place. Willing you to not move a muscle, to be eaten without putting up a fight. No one said anything before the startled man laughed out loudly, shaking his head and holding his belly before slapping his free hand attention-seekingly against his companion's arm.

"That scared me," he chuckled. "I've never heard that kind of sound before."

The other man let out a hum of agreement, nodding his head before looking back at you. You were at a clear disadvantage, unsure where to look first and who to focus on, as you were outnumbered by the two. The one that kept talking was smaller than the other, although this could have been the heat playing tricks on you. Both were muscular, but he was less refined than his almost-twin. You wagered you could take him on if there wasn't a scaley tail winding from his hips. That would be additional weight you couldn't topple, no matter how much you playfighted the other hunters and warriors of your tribe, which sometimes outdid you in terms of weight and size.

The quieter one, on the other hand, had the typical looks of a working man in the village: big arms coming from a strong back and toned muscles that the woman would drool over, while the other seemed fit and nimble. But your eyes unwillingly focused on the tail as the two scaled the altar, moving forward oddly in sync until it became clear why.

Their two strands of tails flowed together between them into one massive one.

It was mesmerizing, you had to admit, the scales an iridescent white. But whenever the tail moved, it took on the hues of the land, grey and red, only to return to their original color as it wound itself. You were awestruck and panicked at the same time, as the tail seemed to be neverending, wrapping around the altar, finding hold on the stony ground that even your feet struggled with. Fear filled you as you watched their slithering movements, the mistake in your thinking now glaringly clear: The monster existed, and it had come for you.

"Y-You're the monster!" you screamed, and the smaller one of the two scrunched up his nose, taking offense. The white scales swept over the altar, landing in the space between you and the stone with a heavy thud. His body was barely shaken by the impact, so perfectly in balance with itself despite their unnatural split into two different entities, and the seriousness of the situation rained down on you like their sharp gazes as you realized there would be no chance of you overpowering either of them.

Even with their connection, they spread out too far to reach both simultaneously. They could still move independently, even if their range was limited to what their body could give. But even without them rearing up on the tail, they were almost two heads taller than you were. They knew their body better than anyone, and you didn't doubt they had some tricks up their non-existing sleeves to best you.

Biting your lip, you finally slipped your hand beneath your dress, never letting the monster—monsters—out of your sight. To your surprise, you watched their gazes slip to where you raised the fabric, observing you with curious intention, their split tongues slipping out from their lips, tasting the air as they ogled at your exposed thigh.

Your hand curled around the grip of your dagger, and the moment you pulled it from its holster, the snakes lept forward. There was no time to be proud of yourself, but your reaction was immaculate. You jumped back just in time to avert the nimble one's grabby hands, even drawing blood as your blade slit open the skin between his thumb and pointer finger.

However, as fast as you dealt with one of the snakes, you couldn't recover quickly enough to avoid the second pair of hands. Much like you anticipated, their range was too extensive to fight both of them at once, and although you ducked beneath one hand of the stronger monster, his second hand latched on, right in your hair. You watched as the red petals of the flower crown loosened and swayed in the air like a sad veil of defeat.

Your head was yanked back, and you acted quickly, directing the knife towards the unprotected free shoulder, somewhere that would hurt. Somewhere that would leave a visible scar and show everyone that these monsters could be injured. But a bloody grip around your wrist prevented you from pushing the dagger into the creature's partially scaled bodies, your hopes crumbling into ash.

"You good?" the more muscular man asked, and the other clicked his tongue in annoyance while you flailed and struggled in their grip. Your free hand was useless as you couldn't even reach forward enough, and so were your legs as you stood on your tiptoes while they yanked you around.

The latter lifted the hand that was holding your wrist to his mouth, licking up the blood that spilled from the cut on his as he maintained eye contact. You bared your teeth in both pain and defiance, not showing any of the miserable fear and panic you felt inside. You didn't manage to do what you came here for, and you felt the power surging through their bodies just from their hands on you. The failure gnawed at your determination, the fight as good as lost.

"We're not monsters," he hissed, glowering at you, although it looked more like a pout. "But you sure are quick on your feet."

Their comments should not have caused your heart to swell with pride, but hearing it from the monster you swore to hurt in exchange for your life did feel good.

"Surely you wish you'd have gotten an easier meal, monster! But I won't go down until I have shown everyone that you can be wounded and defeated! That you will bleed if the people unite! There will be no more sacrifices once they've seen what I did to you!"

"We're not monsters!" they repeated in unison before exchanging a brief glance with each other.

"Well, I won't call you god and beg for your mercy!" you spat, and the lips of the snake with your hand in his grip curled into a grin.

"Are you sure about that?"

With his blood coating your hand, he raised it way over your head, causing you to gasp as your whole body strained to accommodate the movement. His hand slipped upwards, a few fingers holding you in place, while some snaked between your palm and the knife in your grasp, prying your hold from it inch by inch. You let out a soft whine as the leather grip was torn from you and watched the metal clatter to the ground.

But you didn't have the time to mourn the loss of your only weapon, not when your arm was bent backward. Immediately, your free hand shot up, trying to dig your nails into the fingers wrapped around your wrist still.

That was your greatest mistake. With his free hand, the quiet monster immediately reached for both of yours, wrapping them in his palm as quickly as their tail could around your body.

You were kept on your tiptoes as you felt the scales of said tail slither over your skin. Creeping beneath your soles and running up your ankles, squeezing the flesh of your shins firmly together before wrapping around each thigh individually. You kicked and squirmed, but their tail was almost as unrelenting as their hands, and you involuntarily winced as your wrists were squeezed together as if tied by a rope.

"It's true we are not the monster you're trying to defeat," the leaner one claimed again, licking his wound like an injured animal.

"That's our mother," his brother explained curtly, and your head whirled around to him, the questions etched into your face.

"Look at us; we're only half the snake she is."

With an exasperated huff, you looked back and forth between the two, reeling at the revelation. "That's not possible! You... you are a snake with two heads. It's exactly as it's told in our stories!"

"They're not wrong..."

"I mean, she is a literal snake with two heads. And she's gigantic. You should be glad she didn't find you first, or you'd be even less than a small snack for her."

"And our dad is human. Like you."

You must have looked rightfully befuddled as the two went back and forth on their explanation, but once they were done, you could only gulp, unsure what to make of the situation. "So... you're not the monster that demands sacrifices?"

"No."

"Not really."

"Then..." It was hard to form the words that zapped through your mind, your mouth suddenly feeling dry again as the adrenaline sifted from your blood flow. Nothing could rationalize this situation, and you were still strung up by their hands and tail. This almost felt too good to be true, so you had to take your chance as long as you could. "You'll let me go?"

A moment of silence hung over all three of your heads before the brothers slowly ripped their gazes off you to exchange sly smirks. You wobbled as their body—and by extension, yours—set into motion, slithering back to the altar until you were sat down, your back forced to rest on the stone like a lamb to slaughter, hands hanging over the edge above your head and legs still wrapped by their tail.

"Oh, you can't just leave," the lean one purred, coming up from below you and planting his clawed hands firmly on either side of your arms. "The nights get so cold, and the days are so lonely with our mom busy occupying our dad. She never lets us play with him or come back to our home. Won't you keep us company for a while longer? I'm sure you can teach us some things, and we can teach you."

The other settled on the opposite side, still holding your hands in place as he grunted in agreement. You felt the bile rise in your throat as one touch slipped below your line of sight, claw-like nails raking up your thigh and moving beneath your dress. Their intentions got more apparent as the fabric was gripped from above, too, slowly, sensually raising over your skin until the hip strap of your underwear was revealed.

In a last-ditch effort, you tried to struggle once more, legs tugging upwards and kicking at the ever-winding tail while your hands twisted in their hold, causing it to crush down onto your bones even more. That wasn't how you wanted to go down; it wasn't the fight to death you thought you'd have!

"End me, then. Get it over with," you yelled out, laying your head to the side and closing your eyes, the reality too hard to face. Sooner or later, you'd die anyway, and if this were the things you'd have to endure, you'd rather be dead. It wasn't the kind of sacrifice you wanted to be, one defiled and molested before you'd be killed, so you'd rather be dead than witness it.

"Hush now," someone murmured, and you felt a hand sweep underneath your chin, turning your head forward again before tugging it up and over the altar's edge. Your eyes snapped open as your instincts kicked in, but as you opened your mouth to scream, it was quickly covered by another.

A tongue slipped between your opened lips before you could close them, slashing around inside harshly and clogging your throat. There was too much to take, and you gulped down the wetness it brought, sloshing it everywhere to the point it dripped from your lips, running down your face that immediately heated up beneath the fluid. It tasted sweet and even when you wanted to stop, you couldn't, gulping down all that was given to you.

Your body began to relax while you felt a hand drive down the front of your torso, brushing an entire palm over your breast and getting stuck on your nipple. You jolted, a pang of electricity flying to your head and down your spine, your back arching as you couldn't understand what was going on anymore. You had never felt this sensitive before, and as the hand continued to roam from one side to the other, finding the budding nip beneath your dress and twisting it, you let out an unholy moan into the mouth of the monster, your own tongue lashing upwards until it got caught on a sharp fang. Despite not feeling it, you were pretty sure your tongue was ripped open, but even more of the sweet-tasting, addictive stuff dripped from the fang, gushing into your mouth. You gobbled it up, considering you had nothing to drink throughout your journey, and your mind was not getting enough of the taste.

"Considering how quickly you got hooked on our mating fluids, I'd not be surprised if you do end up calling us gods when we're done with you."

You barely heard the voice of the curious onlooker beyond your line of sight, your mind wholly crazed by the liquid that coated all of your mouth and senses. It took almost more work to extract the monster's tongue from your throat than it had putting it inside. Your head followed it upwards, unwilling to part while the drool kept dripping down onto your face.

As you were freed of the kiss, a shameful, miserable sigh of disappointment escaped you, and you barely regained the ability to reply, "Never," in response to what the snake had said. That caused both of them to chuckle, and the sound sent a core-clenching, spine-tingling warmth throughout your body. Your lips quivering as your mind begged for more of that deep rumble cursing through their bodies.

"We'll see about that," the monster from below mumbled as he raked his claws over your thigh. Immediately, you were jolting upwards in their hold, caught between pain and pleasure as he lightly scabbed your skin. It was a small revenge for his own wound, and the scratches burned deliciously as they welcomed the hot air all around you two. "You're already so wet for us."

"It's called sweat," you mewled defiantly, the sound of your voice not befitting your sarcasm. You clenched your legs together, but it was a vain effort with the tail still stuck above your knees, easily prying them open by driving upwards. The scales rubbing over your skin didn't help your misery at all, and you wanted to throw your head against a solid wall with how dizzy and needy you felt. It wasn't you on that altar, but a very distorted version of you, one that wanted to be fucked silly even though what you really wanted was a good fight.

The two laughed at your comment, and you moaned in annoyance at the electricity that sapped through you at the sound of their voices. Your head fell back over the edge, and you came face to face with the more muscular one of the brothers as he lowered himself to your eye level. His eyes raked over your face, then up to your exposed neck just waiting to be bit.

"You're so cute," he mumbled, split tongue darting out again, tasting the air. Your pussy clenched as you wished for that tongue back in your throat or, even better, caressing your quivering folds below that were begging for something to fill their loneliness. The experience was new to you, as you had never wanted intimacy like this with anyone before. You had been so focused on your goals and diligently upholding your parents' rules and traditions that you never craved anyone, but especially not these two beasts.

"I'm not cute," you mewled, closing your eyes and biting your lips as you felt the sharp claws hover above your abdomen, gently stroking the skin below your navel from side to side, your core clenching even harder with pure, undiluted desire. But when the fingers slipped beneath the rim of your underwear, you moaned as you expected them to dip into the wet mess that lay just beneath, the expectation almost enough to send you over the edge.

"Oh, yeah?" the snake-man grinned, and you felt one finger press into your slit, your folds welcoming it warmly and with a shudder going through your body. You quaked in pleasure, eyes blown wide open, and the two fangs of the monster were all more prevalent as his lips split into a toothy smile. "So cute," he doubled down, pulling your arms taut until your body stretched to the last of its capabilities.

With his lips gently brushing against your forearm, you were wholly unprepared for the sharp pain as he dug his fangs deep into your skin. But the shriek quickly turned into a moan, your hips grinding against the finger probing at your entrance as more of the aphrodisiac went straight into your bloodstream. You watched the dark fluid drip off your arm, causing even more heat to spread where it flowed, and you were mercilessly whining as you couldn't move your hips nearly enough to satisfy your needs.

"Please," you snapped upwards, staring at the creature settled on top of the altar next to you, leisurely rubbing his hand along your pussy.

"There goes the begging," he reminded you, and you bit your lip to the point of hurting yourself.

Fuck, that wasn't what you wanted to say. It wasn't how you wanted to die, you never intended to let it get this far. Pathetic, pathetic, absolutely pathetic. You were a fucking warrior, you fought threats and hunted prey, you were not going to surrender to them—

"Fuck!" you gasped out loud this time as one digit slipped inside you. You felt it hook inside your pussy, slowly dragging out despite being clung to firmly by your insides. All the faster did he push it inside again, every joint that buried inside you made you arch your back and rejoice. You nearly avoided being scratched open inside, purely by how slick your pussy and his hand were by now, more fluids gushing out as he pulled his finger from you again and again.

Simultaneously, another digit curled down, fondling the heated folds until it pressed down on your clit, forcing a mewl from you. Fangs tore out of your skin, but you barely noticed as the two fingers united, taking up more space inside of you and scissoring your walls apart until you felt your pussy gaping and drooling obscenely.

"I'll not... submit," you stammered between bated breaths. "I'll not... be your plaything."

"And we wouldn't want it any other way," they chimed in unison, exchanging a satisfied glance before grinning.

"Mom always said to look out for the feisty ones."

"We just didn't think you'd come to meet us so soon."

"Or that you'd be this fun to play with."

Your whole body shuddered as both fingers were pulled out of your terribly needy hole. Your breath was almost non-existent, the lack of air only stimulating you more as you heard the sloppy sounds of your wet pussy letting go of the monster's fingers. A hand slipped beneath your head, helping you to hold it up as you watched the leaner brother lifting his pointer and middle finger to his face, split tongue lapping out to taste your slick pulling strings in the gaps while maintaining eye contact with you all throughout it.

"They're perfect," he purred as he looked up, stretching his arm towards his brother, who leaned forward to have his taste of you from his brother's fingers.

"Damn, that's sweet," he commented too on your fluids, licking them from his lips as he looked down at you in a mix of surprise and awe.

"And so pretty, too."

You felt their eyes in the same way their claws had raked over your body. Hungrily, with the intention to harm you. And yet, your hole kept gaping, needing more stimulation, wanting more. You were the pitiful prey you kept denying you were, but it seemed that in their eyes, you were so much more than that.

"Our little fighter," the one at your side murmured, stretching upwards to hover beside your face.

"Are you not even finishing what you started?" you spit, your venom not nearly as effective when your voice sounded as if you were drugged and disgruntled.

"Oh, I will, little fighter. We're going to make sure you can take us before spreading you on our cocks and make you cry out in pleasure until you call us "god". But before that, you have to be good and let us take you to our nest. Bonding will take so much time, and you are much too vulnerable out here."

"Fuck you," you grunted, trying to elbow him, but your arm barely moved.

"Keep it up," he grinned. "Wouldn't want you to give up too easily. Breaking you in is part of the fun."

"You're a fucking monster after all."

The snakes hummed thoughtfully as you were finally pulled off the table. Instead of being dragged by your arms or wrapped in their tail, however, you were slung over the bigger brother's shoulder, feeling his hand immediately settle beneath your asscheek, not so subtly poking at your pussy with his claw.

"Let me go!" you demanded weakly, your sore hands pounding pitifully into his shoulder.

"And miss out on all this fun? I don't think so," the leaner brother answered.

"Mother told us you can't go back anyway," the one carrying you added, throwing salt into the wound. They were right, but that didn't mean you'd go down so easily, even if your legs were still quivering and your head throbbing with need. "They'll kill you on sight, won't they? And then they'll return you to the altar so we can eat you."

A hand clasped around your jaw, claws digging into your cheeks as your head was lifted to face the leaner brother. "You know we prefer a different taste," he grinned, and you felt your anger rise again together with the shame of his implication. Collecting your saliva and some of the residues of the aphrodisiac, you spit them into his face, not caring whatsoever what that meant for you.

The snake-man scrunched up his face, quickly wiping it away. "Save your drool," he snarled, and you grinned victoriously despite the clasp he held your face in.

But as if on cue, a large palm flattened against your ass, and you jolted forward on the shoulder, eyes blown wide open as you gasped. You couldn't believe it as the wave of pleasure finally crashed into your rockfest resolution, your toes curling upwards and your eyes rolled back, your orgasm hitting you harder than even the slap had.

"Oh, god," you whispered breathlessly while riding the high of pleasure and shame as you felt your juices leaking even through your panties, dripping and running down the body of the other stronger brother.

"Seems like you finally get it, sacrifice," the guy in front of you noted, brushing his thumb over your lips, which opened automatically to his beckoning.

"Let's go, brother," he urged. "Seems our little fighter needs just a bit more convincing as to why they'll love being ours. I can't wait to make their belly swell with our clutch, just like Mother has always told us."

"We're lucky we found a mate so quickly," the other agreed, and you let out a defeated huff, no more words to counter them with coming to your dazed thoughts.

Their tail set into motion, scales slithering over stone, while your mind drifted off, the aphrodisiac having too much of a hold on your conscience for you to be rid of it quickly. You were going to be taken by the monsters, and if you thought you were helpless before, your body now barely felt like it belonged to you. It was as if you weren't its master anymore, but that drug and those snakes were. You could only shiver, even though the air was getting hotter the closer you three got to the volcano, wondering if you at least fulfilled your duty as a sacrifice.

And when that duty would finally end.

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xxcrystalinerose · 7 months ago

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In light of Hades 2 adding new designs and MORE Nyxblings, here's a little face study I did of Chaos, Nyx, and their family. Someone once mentioned that Nyx's children who's got features she doesn't have actually have Chaos' features instead, and I wanted to compare and see which child resembles who more.

Additionally, shoutout to @blood-starved-beast for their post about the age order of Nyx's children because it has helped immensely with the brainrot.

Detailed analysis under the cut.

Firstly, the parents:

For parent and daughter, Chaos and Nyx don't really look the same. However, the cheekbones and jawline that could cut glass is hereditary lol. I wonder if there are other children of Chaos who look more similar to them?

I also like how Chaos' Hades 2 appearance could be a nod to them reconnecting with Nyx and probably wanting to look more "normal" (or as normal as they could get) for the family reunions. The exact same makeup style is cute.

Next up, we have the older children (excluding the Fates, whom we haven't seen yet):

Charon is a tough nut to crack because his portrait is so heavily shadowed and he also wears a bigass hat, so I don't really know his facial structure, but from what I could see, it's more like Chaos'.

Moros' eye shape is weirdly different from the rest of the siblings, but they appear to be downturned and large, which is closer to Nyx's eye shape. While his facial structure is more like Chaos', his eyes in particular make him look softer.

Nemesis actually has a different face structure from Nyx. Her coloring is the exact same (sans skin tone), but not the face. However, her hairstyle is similar, including the updo.

Lastly, the younger children:

It's probably because Hypnos' expression was drawn more comically, but as soon as I take a good look at his new portrait it's made greatly apparent that he and Thanatos are actually identical in terms of facial features. What makes them appear even more different is the hairstyle; Than's go straight down, Hypnos' is fluffy and piled high on his head. They also have similar face shape as Nyx, but with a squarer jawline.

You'd think their hairstyles are radically different. However, this official art of long-haired Than shows that his hair curls at the ends. His hair is straight now, but I'd like to think he straightens it out, because otherwise it would look a bit wavy still.

As for Eris, people keep saying that Nem looks like Nyx the most, but Eris looks astonishingly similar to Nyx. Oh, the irony of looking like the parent you detest.

Summary (and some thoughts):

Face structure-wise, the older children look more like Chaos, while the younger children look more like Nyx.

Of all Nyxblings we've known, only Nemesis has black hair.

Except for Charon, the children's eye art style is reversed between Chaos' and Nyx's (the ones with purple eyes have visible pupils and highlights, while the gold-eyed ones have no visible pupil or highlight).

Where did the curly hair genes come from? The twins are explicitly stated to be fatherless, too. Maybe some other children of Chaos have curly hair? Maybe Gaia, as she was mentioned in Hades 2?

I have a theory that the older children look more eldritch (more similar to Chaos), and only started to look "normal" during Nyx's separation from Chaos, and the cutoff point is Moros, unless Momus is older than him. Would be cool if the Fates are an amalgam of three bodies, because they're triplets and older than Charon.

Thanatos cutting his hair was actually a smart decision because his new hairstyle flatters his face shape more. I'm sorry darling but you don't have game in styling long hair. Too bad he and Moros don't know each other, big brother could've given him tips.

The entire family is hot. Nuff said.

#ksadraws #ksatalks #i love the variety and slight differences between the nyxblings so much :))#hades 2 #hades game #hades 2 fanart #hades fanart #chaos hades #nyx hades #charon hades #moros hades #nemesis hades #thanatos hades #hypnos hades #eris hades

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nvuy · 4 months ago

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poor provincial town — il capitano

summary. your father disappears suddenly, so you set off in search, and discover something much worse than the monsters you were warned about in your quiet little village.

notes. nvuy actually writing something holy shit we lost. it’s a beauty and the beast spin off. i want this man so badly i will trudge across the sahara desert just to lick off his sweat to cure my unbridled thirst.

warnings. 16+, mature themes, you can interpret capitano as yandere but he’s also implied to not be human (riding on the draconic capitano headcanons here) so in general he’s just a weirdo, he’s probably ooc because yeah, gn reader (any usage of the word ‘man’ is just another word for ‘human’), mentions of violence, threatening, violent threats can also be interpreted as sexy i guess, mentions of death, AU sort of because beauty and the beast spin off.

Your father had gone missing.

The news had shaken you to your core, and despite the wrangling on from the poor terrible and boring provincial town that you hailed from, you planned to set out almost immediately in search of him.

The people had warned you of wolves in the forest, flesh eating bugs that crawled in the winter snow, and men with pointy sharp teeth and large claws that could slice you to ribbons. All horror stories from children’s books; the same nightmares you had when you were little. Raging beasts within the trees to make sense of the shadows that moved strangely in the night.

You were warned, denied, almost locked away in your home for protection. But, you moved. You set out, for your father was already old and frail as he was. You couldn’t imagine him being lost to the woods. Not your father. He was wiser than to step out by himself, and especially so deep within the trees.

“It does not make sense for you to venture by yourself. Trekking through the woods is not for people such as you.” The older lady of the town library told you one day. “What lies out there… I could not tell you.”

You took the book from her hands and pressed your fingers into the hard cover. Your nails left a permanent dint in the laminate. “I do not fear death.”

“Not death,” she corrected. “Death is not what lingers.” She then glanced up at the ceiling, thoughtful. “Death is beautiful. What you should be afraid of are people.” She looked back down at you before a sad grin grew onto her lips. “Speak not to strangers, for you may provide dinner for the beasts that roam the woods.”

She did say beasts, you know. Monsters with fangs and fur and hooves that knew nothing but to bite and eat, eat, eat.

But there are various sorts of beasts. Charming, handsome quiet beasts. Kind and polite and patient.

“It is the gentle beasts that are the most dangerous of all.” The older lady sighed deeply, perturbed. She fidgeted in her seat behind the counter. “If you do leave, bring a weapon.”

You cannot fight, though you did pocket a small dagger.

And then you set off. Through the woods, down hills, across rivers, trying to piece together a narrative as to why your father had disappeared. It was winter — though, it did always snow here — and the winds were much more biting than usual. Thankfully, you had brought layers, and the thick hood that wrapped over your head did its job in banishing most of the cold.

It did not stop the lingering gazes of the creatures that crept along the trees, and lingered within the shadows.

You are soaked in snow and wind and cold, but you press on.

You eventually stumbled upon a castle. A grand one, with cracked and broken windows, thorny leafless bushes that surround the forked fencing, and a door so giant your hand can barely wrap around the handle. It is the only source of shelter for miles.

He must be here. Your father was ill. He needed a roof to sleep under. And possibly, despite its state, the castle could have food hidden away if looked for thoroughly.

You push open the doors, wincing from the loud creaking that alerts your presence to anyone residing inside. It looks abandoned. The once polished floors and mangled and ruined, and it a single candle flickers with life. The chandelier sits on the floor, smashed to pieces, and glass spills from every corner.

It is dark, and cold, but it is shelter.

So, you search.

High and low, wandering through the endless halls, trying to trace your steps. You search upstairs first. There are many levels, perhaps maybe five or six, and as you look, you find different rooms. Grand empty ballrooms, bathrooms that once had plated gold edging to every corner and crevice, bedrooms with torn sheets and broken wardrobes. Most rooms were empty — you cannot imagine being able to fill every single one.

Then, you search downstairs. You hadn’t wanted to go below the ground, but your father did not answer to any hushed whisper you called, and you were beginning to lose hope.

The deeper you go, the more you feel trapped.

There are cellars down here, and they stretch on beyond what your eye can see.

The cellars are dark and twisted and cold. It smells of mildew and mould, and every step you take emits a splash from the puddles. The walls are brick and cracked and covered in moss so old it has turned black with time. There are no little white flowers along the vines.

You step further along the wet stone, feeling along the wall blindly. Your nails scrape along, and you try to even your breathing. It’s cold. It’s cold. Frost and snow still clings to your clothes.

That’s when you spot your father rotting away in a cell, and you quickly take his hands through the bars. He’s frail and older now, and so much sicker from being locked away for so long.

You cry out pathetically when he struggles to curl his fingers around yours. Frostbite has taken the tips, and his skin has morphed to an ugly purple and black.

“You shouldn’t have looked for me,” he tells you. Then, he glances down the dark hall. He cannot see anything, for shadows linger across the walls like spiders crawling upon silvery silken webbing, but he knows there is something out there. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

You dismiss his concern. “You’re freezing.” You squeeze your hands tight over his thin skin before you shed off your hood and hand it to him through the bars. “Who did this to you?”

“You need to leave,” your father pleads.

“‘Leave?’” you echo. You try to see through what little light there is for a keyhole. You do not have a key, but the iron is rusted and weak, and you’re sure you can find something to smash the door through with. “I cannot leave. Not without you.”

You search around. You try to steady your racing heart, breathing deeply through your nose. Fog passes from your lips with each breath. Water drips from somewhere, and the constant ticking and creaking of the old bricks make you nervous.

You’re concerned the entire floor will collapse, so you work quick.

The cellars are empty and abandoned. Most of the doors are open, and there’s no keys in sight. There are no weapons, either, nor any long poles to smash the door down.

You panic.

It’s hopeless.

This place is completely empty.

You turn back to your father and try weakly pulling at the door. It does not budge. “Who locked you in here?”

“A beast,” he replies. It is said in a whisper, as if he’s afraid of even uttering the word. “It tore me off my path and brought me here.”

But beasts can’t be real. They’re just fairytales; stories your mother told you when you were little so you wouldn’t wander off by yourself. “Did it hurt you?”

“No. Not yet.” He glances down the hall again. “But it may hurt you.”

“I am not leaving without you. I have searched for days.” You stand up to search for something again, but you know deep down it is futile.

There is nothing.

There’s nothing here.

You want to weep, but that will not help.

It’s hopeless. It’s all so twisted and horrific. There is no beast here. There cannot be. You would have stumbled upon it by now. It would have sliced you to ribbons by now. It would have locked you away with your father by now.

“Listen to me,” your father whispers. “Return to the village and call for the soldiers.”

You shake your head.

“They will not listen to me. They think I’m crazy.” And they do. You briskly wipe at your tears and kneel down in front of the bars again. Then, helplessly you bash at the bars, and the sound echoes down the halls. “How do I get you out?”

Your father tries to quiet your sobbing. “Go back to the village. Find General Zasha, speak with the soldiers.” He grabs your hands through the bars. “The General will listen to you.”

“He will not.”

“He will.” Your father nods once, confident. “I know a man in love when I see it.” Your father kisses your knuckles once before he lets go. “I will be alright.”

He will not be, but you stumble to your feet and back away from the cellars.

And then you leave. You say not a parting word to your father. You pray and hope he remains alive for another few days. You can do nothing else but trek back up the stairs and return to the main halls.

You know they must have been beautiful once. Now everything is old and withered and etched away.

In another world, another life, just maybe, you would have loved to roam the halls of a castle and spoiled endlessly.

You walk slowly, beaten down, cold and alone. Your bones ache with exhaustion, but you will not rest here. You are determined to return to the village and speak to the general, even if you despise him with every inch of your heart.

Your hand reaches for the door handle.

“What’s this?”

And then there is a blade at your throat.

“Another thief roaming my halls?”

You swallow, but all that does is press the blade further into your skin. The discomfort sends you into a panic, and your breathing stutters. Your hand remains wrapped around the handle, but you cannot will yourself to move.

Escape is futile.

You should not have come here.

The blade is removed swiftly. So swiftly that the sharp end glides along your throat and leaves a shallow cut. It stings, and you try not to cry out in fear. Sweat pools down your neck and twists into the new cut. You hiss silently at the pain.

“What did you steal?”

You do not turn around. “Nothing. I am no thief.”

“Then you know the man I locked away.” His voice is deep, and it echoes in the hall. “Otherwise, you would never have come at all.”

You turn slowly, aware he is still armed.

It is a sword he holds, though it is hidden away beneath a large feathered and fur coat that rests upon his shoulders. Long black hair falls from beneath a mask that covers his face, and the shadows below disguise his skin, and anything that can identify him.

He is taller than you. Much taller, and much bigger. You cannot fight him.

“Why did you lock away my father?”

“Your father is a thief,” he replies easily. “And thieves remain thieves until they rot.”

There is no noise. It is just you, and him, and the constant dripping of water from your hair.

“My father is not a thief, beast,” you argue. “You are locking away a sick man.”

“I am no beast,” he denies. “I am man.”

“A man with a blade is no different to a beast.” He must be a beast. There is no reason as to why he would reside in a place such as this. “I will bring back an army.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure you will.” It sounds condescending, and you scrunch your face up when he leans down to scrutinise you. “That is if you can leave my grounds alive.”

“You will die before you lay a hand on me.”

You pull out the dagger residing in your pocket. It is a desperate attempt to create space between you, but the knife only manages to garner a simple tilt of his head.

It’s small, barely deadly, but if angled right, you could take out an eye. But the thought of that makes you crumble; you don’t fight.

The man simply tuts. “You are not even worth a chance to spar.” He simply plucks the weapon from your hands. “How you survived out there is both a mystery and a miracle.”

“I am not weak,” you say. You don’t feel it’s true.

“Stubborn. You are stubborn.”

Your finger twitches in frustration. “Free my father from his cell.”

“Bring your army,” he answers. “It has been a while since I’ve been faced with a challenge.”

“You will lose your head before you even unsheathe your weapon.” You’re not sure if it’s true, but you have to trust yourself. Just this once. “You cannot take on one hundred men.”

“I have once. I will do it again.”

“I will be honoured to have your severed head hanging as decoration in my bedroom,” you sneer. “You will not win this. Your arrogance will be your downfall.” You try to twist and make for the door again, but he holds steady on your wrist. “Unhand me.”

The man, or the beast, or whatever he is, does not falter.

“You are small. Whatever army you bring will be smaller.” He pulls once at your wrist and that silences your struggling. It hurts and stings in warning. “Puny. Is this the best you can do? What if you were to run into a real beast?”

“Let go of me!” you try.

His grip tightens. You fear your bones will snap into pieces. You’re unsure if the skin beneath his gloves belongs to a man or a beast. The tips are sharpened and metallic, and you’re sure they can pierce into your flesh.

He leans in close. Too close.

Close enough you can barely identify the outline of lips drowned out by the shadows that swamp his features. A big man, much too big for you, and he terrifies you beyond your nightmares.

You will dream of him.

Terribly.

“Let go of me,” you plead quietly.

“Let us strike a deal,” he whispers.

“I will make no deals with any man,” you defy.

You see a smile and a flash of sharp teeth.

“I am no man, nor beast,” he responds. “Send your men. Send one thousand. Send every man that has ever walked this plain.” He grabs you even tighter, and if the mask did not obstruct his face, your lips would have touched his, and the scar that runs across the vermillion. You share his breath, and you smell blood and ash. “I will kill them all.”

You feel he tells the truth.

Still, you insist. “You will die.”

“If I do so perish, then the wager is in your favour. Have whatever you wish from this place. Destroy it, restore it, it is yours.”

You want to tell him you do not want this terrible castle. You want your father home, but you are aware he knows this. You open your mouth to speak, but a hand abandons one of your wrists to grab your face and squeeze just enough to keep you quiet.

His claws press into your flesh. You try to wretch yourself free and rake your nails down his arm.

“And if I kill every man you send, I will return your father.”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“I will have you instead.” He twists you further towards him, and your lips touch. “I will decorate these halls with the heads of every man of your village, and I will ruin you.”

That is a promise. You know it is. You can tell from how he whispers it, and how his grip has slackened into something more gentle than it was before.

“You cannot–” Nothing comes forth from your lips.

“I can.” He lets go of your other wrist and twists his claws into your hair. “It has been so long since I have tasted the flesh on mortal bone.”

The man, whatever he is, releases you finally, and you startle backwards against the door. Blindly, you feel for the handle behind you, trying to keep your breathing even as you finally grip onto the cold metal.

The door swings open behind you and you step outside of the castle. The cold hits you instantly, and you double over in the icy strong winds. You abandoned your hood to your father, and have nothing to shield your eyes. They sting with tears and snow.

Something drapes over your shoulders, heavy and warm.

It’s a coat. The same feathered and furred coat, though it is not laid onto you out of concern or politeness. It is possession, and complete control, ownership when the beast grasps your chin from behind you one last time.

You stare out in fear into the forest ahead.

“Flee, little one.” You feel his lips on your ear. “Time slips away as the clock ticks forward. The world will stop for you, if I so choose it to wait.”

He is warm. Warm against your back, and it provides temporary, ill-fitting relief into your skin.

“I await your return, blade honed, and hungering for your skin.”

You slip from his grasp. “If I don’t return?”

“Your father will draw his final breaths in my cellar,” he tells you, “and once he does, I will chase you to the ends of the earth to deliver the good news.”

#✦ ( the macrocosmos. )#il capitano x reader #capitano x reader #the captain x reader #genshin impact x reader

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blasphemousclaw · 9 days ago

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Speaking of different Hornsent cultures, do you also think Midra is a part of that culture as well? The ghost in his manse dies suggest they're both Hornsent

I do think Midra is meant to be a part of the hornsent culture, yeah! Not only do the manse spirits and the inquisition storyline suggest that he's hornsent, but his manse is FULL of architectural details that you can find across all hornsent settlements!

We have to mention first though that Midra doesn’t have horns (and it doesn’t seem like Nanaya has horns either under her headscarf?), but it does seem that there were hornsent in Belurat who did not have horns... technically, “tower folk” might be a more accurate way of describing them in that regard, though the game seems to refer to the culture and those who lived in the Lands of the Tower collectively as both “hornsent” and “tower folk”: “Long ago, Queen Marika commanded Sir Messmer to purge the tower folk” (Leda). “Scorpion simmered in a black soup. Traditional meal of the hornsent” (Scorpion Stew). I'd guess that it was just less common, and not as well regarded, to be hornless, so the culture is still pretty defined by having horns even if it's not a universal trait (again, the hornsent aren't a species, they're just people who are very strongly affected by the Crucible's influence, just like how the animals of the Shadow Lands can often be found with horns too).

Anyway back to Midra – because he doesn't have horns, it is possible that he wasn't born hornsent and simply adopted the culture. Nanaya though has an extra cultural detail that makes me feel like she might have been born into hornsent culture... “Nanaya” was the name of an ancient Mesopotamian goddess of love! The hornsent civilization is extremely heavily inspired by ancient Mesopotamia, especially Babylon: the name Enir-Ilim comes from the Akkadian name for Babylon, Bāb-ilim — “the gate of the gods,” and the Tower with its Divine Gate is pretty obviously a reference to the Tower of Babel… so the fact that Nanaya has a Mesopotamian name, when we know the game used other words from ancient Mesopotamia for the hornsent, makes it VERY likely to me that she is a native of the tower lands! But even if Midra and/or Nanaya aren’t tower folk and originally came from a different culture (some have theorized that they’re numen), it’s pretty clear to me that they’ve at least adopted the tower culture due to all the visual and story details associated with them and their manse.

Architecturally, the Manse very obviously uses a lot of the same stylistic details as structures in Belurat and other hornsent settlements. The front door to the Manse has the same metal relief design as the doors in Belurat:

(Midra’s Manse front door; Belurat front door)

the Manse is also decorated with the same spiraled columns that are a staple in all hornsent settlements, as well as the same spiral tree motif that can be found on walls and stone tablets in Belurat:

(Midra's Manse library)

(Midra's boss room; Manse front room)

(Theatre of the Divine Beast, Belurat)

(Small Private Altar, Belurat)

Midra's robes are pretty nondescript, but Nanaya's outfit absolutely screams hornsent; there are so many details in her outfit evoking the hornsent culture. The decorative trim on her robes have a spiral design, which is a motif found in a lot of hornsent art and architecture:

(Enir-Ilim)

and the twisted fabric framing Nanaya’s face reminds me of the twisted drapes found in the Theatre of the Divine Beast and Enir-Ilim:

(Theatre of the Divine Beast, Belurat)

(Enir-Ilim)

Midra and Nanaya had a lot of hornsent followers who lived in their manse who you can still find as spirits and shades. The dialogue and item descriptions related to Midra and his followers make it very clear that when the inquisition stepped in, the violence they were committing was against their own people:

"I beg you stop. Haven't I taken enough? Are we not brethren, common in our line? And yet, you offer only cruelty... I ask; what crime did great Midra commit?" (Manse spirit NPC)

"A glove stitched together from the flayed skin of the victims of a butcherous bloodbath. [...] Forged of an unyielding, black impulse toward revenge fostered in those who were hunted down as heretics by their own brethren, these are the weapons of the utterly downtrodden." (Madding Hand)

and yes, I think Midra and Nanaya are included in this! There’s kind of a pattern in the hornsent civilization of the elites (represented by the inquisition) suppressing different subgroups within their own culture for not adhering to the status-quo: this includes the Curseblades, the Lamenter, and Midra and his followers. I wonder if Midra held some independent beliefs that had nothing to do with the frenzied flame that made him suspicious in the eyes of the inquisition? He was known as "Sage Midra," and had a great library in his manse... it makes me think that he was some revolutionary scholar and thinker who inspired a lot of hornsent to follow him at his manse. I wonder if him not having horns and still having so much influence over other hornsent could have been seen as a threat to the inquisition’s image of (horned) supremacy??

#elden ring #midra #midra lord of frenzied flame #nanaya #asks #the tower folk were so complex and diverse its super fascinating

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imaginariumwanderer · 9 days ago

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Any thoughts on the headcanon that the beasts aren't friends and that shadow milk is simply lying? Having been friends in the past but the friendship fading with time and their descent into beside.

On a personal level, I find the premise of the Beasts staying besties despite millennia of mind shattering-corruption to be ripe with comedic potential.

But if we were to look at canon, I would say here's not enough information for us to confirm anything.

Aside from a very brief mention here, Mystic Flour and Burning Spice so far have made no further remarks or references to the other Beasts. I suppose with the way she worded it, we can assume they're at least still working together.

Going back to Shadow Milk though, why, he is indeed acting quite "sweet" to the other Beasts. We see him both hype them up and refer to them as "friends" pretty consistently throughout "theater of lies" and "vanquisher of darkness"

Most of the time Shadow Milk's mocking and sarcasm can be taken pretty straightforwardly, and when genuine praise does come from him it's only cuz the target-of-praise is doing him a favor (i.e Dark Enchantress) In all of this we have to consider as to why he would play up the facade of friendship, if it were a facade in the first place. Was he acting that way to keep the other Beasts' guard down until the eventual rug-pulling? Maybe he's playing up their alliance as intimidate our heroes?

It's fun to speculate what's going on in that messed up noggins of his. It's also quite fun to think about the Beasts as group considering their parallel with the Ancients. Unlike the Ancients who formed their bond by choice, the Beasts were created and is stuck together since birth in a sense (the same can apply to their Souljam/power) And unlike the Ancients who all share the same goals of protecting their loved ones etc the Beasts' goals so far is shown to be different and may even conflicts with one another, like Mystic Flour's wish to return everything to flour would no doubt get in the way of the "empire of lies" Shadow Milk mentioned once. Would the other Beasts be exempt from Flour's Apathy or Spice's Destruction?

I hope one day we'll get some on-screen interactions soon, like what the writers did with the Ancients in Odyssey.

#this ended up going way off topic whoops #crk #shadow milk cookie #1m4 answer #1m4 rambles #text

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ghostofashina · 2 months ago

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The dilemma with the source of golden lightning and how it can bring a hidden face of the Golden Prince.

I keep thinking about Godwyn's lightning. And something didn't sit right with me. And the more I dug into it, the more of a... revelation I had of Godwyn.

Except for Fortissax wielding "Death Lightning", I don't recall any ancient dragon with actual golden lightning. Yet, not only godwyn's lightning was described as golden, but every dragon cult incantation is golden.

According to Death Lightning:

It is said that this golden lightning was wielded by Godwyn, who befriended Fortissax.

But Vyke's dragonbolt ain't golden. And as Godwyn, he is said to be loved by a dragon. Not only that, but after we befriend Florissax, she gives us her own dragonbolt blessing, and it's not golden. The only golden dragonbolt we find, is near Godwyn's memorial, in a church with Radagon's statue (which, I have to say, I find very... odd.)

And then, we have the Gravel Stone Seal (and I believe it belonged to Godwyn at some point), which is even more odd, because it says:

The worship of the ancient dragons does not conflict with belief in the Erdtree. After all, this seal, and lightning itself, are both imbued with gold.

Except this is straight up a lie. Only Godwyn had golden lightning and, therefore, his soldiers, etc.

But there's others sources of golden lightning. And I want to mention one kind that seems to come from Godwyn himself.

The flower. We have 2 types of lightning flowers. One of them you find all over the place in the base game, called Fulgurbloom. And other kind that only grows in Lands of Shadow, called Yellow Fulgurbloom. Now this is really interesting:

Fulgurblooms are found in many places, including Farum Azula, and can be used to craft an ordinary llightning grease. However, Yellow Fulgurblooms ONLY spawn inside Godwyn's catacombs and is used to craft the dragonbolt grease, a favorite tool of Godwyn's soldiers, an item that does not exist outside the DLC.

I always thought that Fulgurblooms were responsible for the eletric goats we find everywhere, and I still think it's the case. And that this a natural item of this world. Which I don't think it's the case of the Yellow Fulgurbloom. Blossoms in the realm of shadow's underground gravesites and places struck by lightning. Imbued with yellow lightning's essence: which means, in the presence of Godwyn. Yes, resembles Miquella's lily. Or even the butterflies. Because we also have the Red Fulgurbloom and it's said "to bloom where the red lightning of the ancient dragons strikes the earth". It grows where the lightning hits. So I guess that, besides the divided corpses of the Prince of Death, these flowers can help us confirm Godwyn was there at some point.

But, once again, where does the golden lightning come from? And this is where things start to make me dizzy. Because we have a known source of golden lightning: storms. At the base game, we have storms aspects linked to a Lord that Godfrey defeated.

Then, going back to DLC, all storms aspects come from the Hornsent. The Divine Beast Warriors wield aspects of storms, such as wind, ice and lightning: golden lightning, very similar to the dragon cult incantations. They even have a golden lightning spear. Not only that, but the Divine Beast Dancing Lion also have golden lightning and one of them is actually infected with Deathblight, for whatever reason. And the Divine Beast has the exact lightning of the Death Lightning, without the corruption of deathblight.

I don't have any big conclusion so far, but the more I look into it, the less I think Godwyn's lightning had the dragons as source. Don't get me wrong: it started with the dragons, of course it did, but I guess its roots are far more deep inside a genocide of a culture: part of a genocide is also appropiation of a culture being stolen. And that, perhaps, Godwyn himself had a part on it.

Messmer had an entire storehouse with dozens of specimens. That was not made to preserve the Hornsent culture in any good means, it was a source of study and experiment. And now I start to think he wasn't alone in this quest.

#elden ring #shadow of the erdtree #godwyn the golden #godwyn the prince of death #messmer the impaler #hornsent #long post

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meanbossart · 10 months ago

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Lore Ask Compilation: "Every Other Question Is About The Drow's Dick" edition

Oh I LOVE Minthara, her dialogue is absolutely fascinating and in my opinion some of the best written In the game. Experiencing her in my Evil Durge playthrough without having been spoiled to her companion scenes prior was great - the amount of depth they managed to add to her, without it at all feeling forced or rushed, and considering how much less time she gets to develop at our side is really well done. While nearly everyone's quests had me immersed, she was one of the few characters who really made me pause and think about the things she had to say to me, what she truly meant by them, and what they meant for me as an avatar doing an evil run.

We have a lot of characters in this game that are meant to be full of wisdom and experience, who are meant to be the ones who say the right thing at the right time that inspires us to make the correct choices, but I don't think either Halsin or Jaheira (and I love Jaheira) made me feel like I knew so little about life quite as Minthara did.

And, of course, she's absolutely hysterical. 10/10 I wish she had a proper companion quest past being rescued but I understand why she doesn't.

[MORE ASKS UNDER THE CUT]

It doesn't connect to the urethra since the slit in on top, so he nuts and pisses normal.

Also you 100% are not sorry, stop lying to me.

Man, I thought a lot about this one because I play so fast and loose with the content the game gives us that I'm positive there must be SOMETHING I'm completely disregarding, but I couldn't think of anything! I've chosen to pick slightly less obvious interpretations to some lines and text but nothing that completely deviates from canon, I don't think. If anyone has noticed something I neglected to mention, feel free to let me know - not because I want to revise it, but just because I'm curious!

For the second part of the question, not really. Larian did a great job of giving us plenty of room to play around in the dark urge's background, I think I'm yet to see something that I find to truly "not fit" in the ample freedom they've given us. I have my preferences, of course - I'm shocked to find that most dark urge's are NOT big hulking beasts, for example - in fact that seems to be the minority by far, but I realize that I have my... Uh... Biases.

You can see a cute little divot through the fabric if you look closely LOL

And nah, I think his penis has seen enough sharp points for a lifetime.

Well.

Unless someone decided to add some bite-marks to it.

HMMM, I... Don't think so.

He didn't cry as a baby, he didn't cry as a child (and this isn't something I just decided on now - this is a major reason why his foster drow mother even kept him around) he didn't really cry growing up or at any point during the campaign. I think he is capable of it - sadness in him just tends to be far more confusing a feeling than anything else.

He will have emotional moments in ANE, whether or not that will culminate in crying is something you will have to wait to find out LOL

Astarion has noticed this and just took it as a character trait - the drow doesn't cry, he just gets confused, angry, frustrated or simply bottles it up. While he can be demanding of his emotional maturity, he isn't going to try and dictate how he should experience his own feelings. If it did happen it would definitely catch him majorly off-guard, perhaps even shift the perception he has of him to a certain extent.

Oh my god you just know they All managed to be utterly quiet about it for as long as humanly (and unhumanly) possible until like, I don't even know, halfway through the Shadow-cursed lands where one day Karlach finally turns back to the group around the campfire after a half-nude drow has strut past and she's like "SO

"DOES ANYONE KNOWS WHY HIS DICK HAS A SNATCH"

And Wyll is like :0... Karlach you can't just ask people that.

And then she pointedly turns to Astarion and starts trying to interrogate him on how it works while Gale covers his ears and Shadowheart is like:

This is gonna blow you guys backwards but he does not do those things in front of people and thinks its rude if you do.

HMMM Mostly physically but it's a little subtle. He really enjoys interacting with Astarion's (and previously Orin's) hands - kissing, holding, caressing. Touching hair and faces as well. He can engage in more overt physical affection but usually Astarion has to be the one to initiate.

A disarmingly earnest proclamation of love and adoration here and there as well - he isn't shy in the slightest to tell people how he feels about them, he just isn't constantly reminding them of it unless inspiration strikes.

Most of all I think he expects his loved-ones to see his care for them in his tendency to go out of his way to help them achieve their goals.

He went with them to the Shadow-cursed lands but I never helped him fix the curse, so he stayed behind when the gang went onwards to the city. DU Drow didn't really like him so it was good-riddance as far as he was concerned.

If he had come along and propositioned him during act 3 - uh, you know the really mean rejection line you have as a choice during that dialogue? Yeah, that one lmao.

Alas, DU drow is just monogamous. He could entertain group-sex with a partner for fun at the most, but not ever a third person in the relationship. And In my personal interpretation (but by all means - everyone else have fun with their poly arrangements!) of Astarion and his delivery of the "this is about Halsin" line, I also thought he was lying about being comfortable with it, so I write him as monogamous as well.

Nothing. Nada. Not a thing. Say what you'd like about Bhaal but he sure knows how sculpt them out of his murder-meat.

(Thank you!!!)

#ask compilation #DU drow lore #bg3 spoilers

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danikamariewrites · 1 year ago

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Could you do one with Xaden where reader gets hurt during training and he almost loses his shit? I can totally see him and Sygael, along with readers dragon of course, wanting to find the person who hurt them and burn them to a ✨crisp✨ lol.

Gotta have your daily protective and caring shadow boy lol

Injured

Xaden x reader

A/n: not me expanding the No One Left Behind universe (like that’s a thing lol) Cadmus is a beast in this one, he is taking no one’s shit. That sweet puppy dog dragon is gone for now.

Warnings: canon typical violence, mentions of injuries

Sgaeyl had told Xaden what happened seconds before Liam came and got him, panting and out of breath only wheezing out your name. He was now out pacing Liam on the way to the infirmary.

Amon had once again pulled a dangerous stunt during flight training. Flight training. The one time of day no sparring was supposed to happen. Xaden wanted to kill the little prick. He went too far this time and Xaden was at his limit with giving Amon chances.

Pushing the doors open Xaden scans the beds looking for you. His eyes find you on a bed on the far right of the room. You looked pissed as you messed with the bandage around your hand and arm.

You didn’t notice him until he was sitting next to you on the bed, gently taking your hand in his so you’d stop picking at the wraps. You looked up at him and you were fuming.

Xaden scanned your face taking in your injuries. There were cuts all over your face and dried blood coming from your nostrils and smattered on your nose. A nasty bruise went from your temple to your jaw. Xaden picked up the wet cloth on the bedside table, gently wiping the blood from your face.

“You ok sweetheart?” You flopped back on the bed letting out an agitated sound. “I swear I’m going to kill Amon next time I see him.” Xaden wanted to laugh but this wasn’t a joke. “Can I leave yet? I hate the smell in here.”

Xaden nodded, helping you up as you winced from the shooting pain in your ribs. As you walked to Xaden’s room you told him about what happened at flight training. Amon and his poorly behaved dragon attacked you and Cadmus in an impromptu fighting exercise.

Cadmus was thankfully unharmed and went on the offensive quicker than you could tell him to. You had never seen or heard him so pissed off, or using so many swear words. He was so well mannered. Of course Cadmus got Sgaeyl involved, who told Xaden immediately.

“Would it make you feel better to know they’re currently plotting their revenge on Amon?” You let out a laugh, relaxing on Xaden’s soft black covers. “Yes actually. I’d love to see Cadmus lose his mind. Is that why he cut me off?”

You spent that night in Xaden’s arms as he whispered loving words and promises of protecting you, never letting anything like this happen again.

The next afternoon you heard about the beating Xaden gave Amon during morning training. It was so bad Dain had to step in and pull Amon away from Xaden while Garrick, Liam, and Imogen had to restrain him.

Once Amon recovered you were both back at flight training. Xaden was overseeing your squad for the time being, just to make sure Amon understood his death threats were serious.

You had never seen Cadmus look so terrifying, it also didn’t help that he and Sgaeyl were next to each other glowering at anyone who looked at them. Even you were scared to approach him until you heard his voice in your head. “We’re just making sure we get our point across. It’s ok, I’d never hurt you y/n.”

You smile up at him and mount in the saddle, preparing for take off. Xaden mounted after you shooting you a grin once in his saddle.

Looking out at the field you saw Amon. Gods he looked awful. Xaden really did a number on him. “Sgaeyl showed me. It was wonderful, I’d never been so happy to see a fight.” He let out a huff which you took as his laugh.

Once up in the air Cadmus insisted you stay at the back. Just in case anyone tries to attack so he could be ready this time. You weren’t fully convinced by his tone but went with it anyway. Who were you to question the wisdom of a century old dragon?

About an hour in you had a feeling Cadmus was up to something. The squad was flying over a mountain pass you usually avoided because it was a third year course. And Sgaeyl was slowly making her way next to Cadmus.

They gave each other a look that made you and Xaden panic. Then they started to climb at an alarming rate. Their wings beating loudly as wind rushed past you, making you flatten yourself to the saddle. “Cadmus!” You yelled at him. “What are you doing?” “Doing what I should’ve done in the first place.”

Oh shit. That wasn’t good. You thought Xaden was joking when he said they were plotting. Looking down you noticed the other dragons had peeled off, leaving Amon alone to hover over the pass.

Passing each other, Sgaeyl and Cadmus dove for them. Amon’s dragon took the offensive too late and Cadmus got a chunk of his side, biting down hard enough causing the dragon let out an ear piercing shriek.

Letting go he flapped away best he could but Sgaeyl was ahead corralling him. Cadmus let out a roar that you’d never heard from him before. It shook the world around you causing your grip to tighten on him.

Unhinging his jaw as wide as he could, Cadmus let out a gust of flame in Amons direction. His dragon flailed and Sgaeyl went for its eyes. They started dropping fast, his dragon going lifeless. Unfortunately, one of Amon’s friends brought him on his dragon before the loud thud of the dragons body echoed around the mountains.

You couldn’t look away. In awe of what just happened. At least Amon would be a little less dangerous from Now on.

Later that night you were sitting in front of the hearth in the common room staring into the crackling flames as you went over the days events again. You couldn’t stop hearing the echoing thud or the silence from Amon as his dragon died. The way he felt nothing for the thing he was connected too didn’t sit right with you.

Xaden silently approached letting his shadows softly caress you to alert you to his presence. “Hey sweetheart.” You hum acknowledging him. Sitting down, he kisses you on your head. He places a hand on your back to comfort you. “Thinking about today?”

“Yeah.” You said absentmindedly. “I’m not upset they did that. I mean, I am a little. A warning would’ve been nice.” You both let out a chuckle. “Did you know?” “No.” You believe him from the seriousness of his tone.

“What’s still bothering you?” “How Amon didn’t care. At least that’s what it looked like to me. I’d be distraught if that was Cadmus.” Xaden wrapped his arm around your shoulders, resting his head on yours. “I know. He’s a psychopath. But we’ll see what happens.”

You let out another hum, relaxing into his warmth. At least you were safe in the skies now.

tags: @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane @aroseinvelaris @twsssmlmaa

#fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #xaden fourth wing #xaden riorson #Xaden riorson fourth wing #xaden fourth wing x reader #xaden fanfic #xaden riorson x reader #Xaden x reader #Xaden x you

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republicsglory · 5 months ago

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i think the faeries of cookie run kingdom in general are a waste and that's really sad </3

okay, face it. faeries are already a banger concept, and kingdom's twist on them is really unique! and very ironic — fae are often depicted to be allergic to silvers. really fun spin on it.

but god..... head in hands.... what did you DOOOOOOOO. it's no secret that the beast yeast arc was (and still is) a mess. but i think it's really sad how these sick ass concepts just.. get executed so poorly??

the thing is, in the 3rd anniversary, devsisters was trying to bite off more than they could chew. the introduction of the beasts was sudden, they felt pretty shoehorned in. i COULD say shadow milk is exempt from this — he's got some decent foreshadowing! can't say the others have it going for them...

okay, sure, introduce the beasts. introduce the faerie kingdom with them. these two things of course go hand in hand. BUT HOLD YOUR HORSES WITH THE BEASTS???

it's okay for crk to introduce new nations! but the faerie kingdom was out of the BLUE. nothing leading to it whatsoever. how are we supposed to deduce anything from what, white lily's prologue asset?

it's very possible to introduce a new nation and do it right. dare i say the créme republic? there were previous mentions and hints to it ingame, making its introduction decent. see — if executed correctly enough, the faerie kingdom may not have needed too much of that.

let's say.. i dunno... two beast yeast episodes are equal to two days of odyssey. in two days of odyssey past ch1, that'd give us enough about the créme republic and time to learn about it! the good parts, and the gritty. BUT in the 3rd anniversary they were obviously trying to make it a little TOO big...

it'd have been nice to see those two episodes focus around the faerie kingdom, its traditions, its denizens and general environment and culture. there could've been problems without too much of a big bad, hell we could've had an almost beast escape. but then again, it WAS the anniversary, but was releasing lily not enough?

now don't get me wrong here — shadow milk had a spectacular introduction! he kind of saved the story i can't lie LOL but was his releasing from the seal..necessary so soon? of course, we'd just be delaying the inevitable, but it'd be nice to just..explore our surroundings a little first.

most information on faeriewood and the silver kingdom are in the LIMITED artbook </3 which kinda. sucks.

we should've also had time to meet the characters more. elder faerie dying is chill with me, nice to know devsisters aren't afraid to kill someone permanently. the problem is, his death was notably supposed to have impact. but like most people felt nothing... because elder faerie is more or less a plot device. give him a character, traits we can attach ourselves to!

there's a Lot more i could rant about actually, but my wrist hurts and i'm tired. i've posted stuff about the silver knights before. just had to let some of this out. tldr the faerie kingdom and faeries are a cool concept but dear god they were executed AWFULLY

#cookie run kingdom #cookie run #crk #cr #elder faerie cookie #white lily cookie #faerie kingdom #secrets of the silver kingdom #finan rambles #I JUST

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spop-romanticizes-abuse · 1 year ago

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i'm just gonna say it. hordak was more redeemable than catra.

no, i haven't forgotten that he was a tyrannical warlord who conquered and destroyed like half of etheria. i'm not saying any of it was justified or that he deserves to get off scot-free.

i just think that hordak had more moments of humanity. we know what he was but there were less instances of hordak being straight-up sadistic on screen. there were actually no instances of hordak attacking anyone, except for that one time in s4 when he attacked catra (which she 100% deserved).

whereas he did have moments of genuine kindness and compassion. he took adora in, when he had the choice to abandon her and leave her to her death. granted, he raised her as a child soldier in the horde, but she was alive thanks to him, nonetheless.

he takes care of imp as he would take care of a child. even when he gets angry, he rarely intentionally hurts people like catra did. the most he did was scream at them. which is not good either, mind you, but it's something that he could work on. it wasn't cruel and destructive like catra's temper.

he also treated entrapta with great care and respect. after a moment of fury, he quiets down and lets entrapta help him. when entrapta mentions in an offhand manner that she was also a defect (or something along that line, i forget), hordak was first concerned and then rightfully furious at whoever dared to demean her like that.

he needed a little push from imp but he expressed his gratitude towards entrapta and treated her as an equal from then on. he even risked his own physical health to protect entrapta. when catra sent entrapta to beast island and double trouble told him about it later on, hordak was ready to murder catra for daring to hurt the one person who understood and loved him.

later in s5, we see what exactly hordak went through at the hands of his creator. although like every other character, his trauma was pushed aside for catra's, you could still see how hard he had it. horde prime was worse than shadow weaver, when it came to abuse. and despite all that, hordak was still able to show kindness to a few people in his life.

of course, that doesn't erase everything he did to the people of etheria. it doesn't erase the toxic environment he created for the children in the horde. but i feel like a villain with some moments of compassion is a lot more promising than a villain who relentlessly hurts and tortures people, not showing even an ounce of regret.

#this is not to say that catra is irredeemable #her redemption would just take a lot more time #and spop didn't give it enough time #spop critical #spop salt #spop #spop criticism #spop discourse #she ra #anti spop #hordak #lord hordak #spop hordak #it's like zuko #even when he was a villain he still had some good monents shine through

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tenderleavesbob · 5 months ago

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Hi!! Anon from before, I meant the fic where the chain see each other again but Wild is missing/not there yet :) sorry for the confusion

Aaaah. That makes more sense! This fic. Here you go!

When their adventure ended and Warriors returned to his life as Captain Link, he accepted that it was the end of their time together. He felt blessed as it was to have the opportunity to not only see Tune and Mask again but to fight alongside the new heroes. He didn't expect to receive such a blessing again.

He stepped out of the portal and into preparations for a new war.

The breaking of Ganon's bindings had left them fragile. Even with the Master Sword sealing him back in his prison, no one expected them to hold Ganon for long. They needed to prepare for the new battle.

Impa introduced him to their new weapons. Rather than fighting another war and sacrificing their people to Ganon's madness, they would create divine beasts to join their hero and Hylia's daughter into battle.

"It was a good idea," Warriors admitted, rubbing his chest. "We underestimated him, though. He didn't have the Triforce anymore, but he was still empowered by it." He grimaced. "He was also mad as hell."

Wind pressed against his side. It was still strange to see Wind as tall as him. Wind showed him what he had actually looked like when he died, and Warriors cried at how old and strong his boy looked. He was still crying as Wind scolded him for dying so young.

"It almost worked, but we relied too much on him being similar to how he was before," Warriors said.

Legend tsked at him and shook his head. "Amateur mistake."

"Leg!" Twilight hissed.

Warriors grinned at him. "He's right. It was." He tapped his chest. "This time, it did cost me my life. I won, but no one expected..." He waved his hand vaguely. "Whatever that was. It was nasty. Took all of my power to take it out."

"His Malice," Twilight said. He frowned. "Wild mentioned it."

Warriors shrugged. "It certainly kicked my ass."

Time leaned against him from his other side. Spirits shouldn't have weight, but Time did. A dead man shouldn't be warm, but he was. He was comforting and smelled like the forest around them. "If I'm right about the timeline, it'll be a long time before we see Wild. Your sacrifice will keep Ganon at bay for a long time."

Warriors hummed and didn't respond. They all knew enough about Wild's timeline to know how that would go. He just hadn't realized that he was the hero right before Wild. He had hoped that he would be able to change it, even if it messed up the timeline again. Better prepare them after they used the Divine Beasts.

Twilight kicked Warriors's shin. It didn't really hurt. Nothing did anymore. Warriors still yelped. "I see ya thinking. Knock it off."

Legend grinned. "Don't tell him to knock it off. He'll never be able to start up again!"

Everyone started laughing again. Time kept his hand pressed over Warriors's heart.

His death had been immediate. He had seen the death blow but hadn't felt a thing.

"So now what?" Warriors asked.

Hyrule plopped beside Legend with Four right behind them. Their chain wasn't complete yet. It wouldn't be for centuries. It was nice, though, for all of them to sit together like this, safe within the Great Deku Tree's forest. The forest spirits laughed and chattered around them, and Hyrule resembled them as he offered them the fruit he and Four had gathered. "Now we eat!" he chirped.

"And wait," Four added, passing some of the fruit to Wind and Warriors. "We did our time."

"Sorta," Twilight said drolly. Time snickered.

They didn't need to eat, but the fruits of this forest were good for more than mortal sustenance.

Sky watched all of them quietly, a content smile on his face. In death, he glowed even brighter than life. Under the shadow of the trees, he shone like their own sun. "We're together," he said simply. "We'll watch over Hyrule the best we can and support Wild when it's his turn. For now..." He accepted a golden apple from Hyrule. "We eat!"

"Do you think we could make beer from this?" Twilight mused.

"Or wine?" Warriors offered.

That started everyone off again, including cheers when Wind reported that he knew how to make moonshine. Warriors watched his brothers, far more content in death than he ever expected.

For now, no more battles.

For now, they could rest.

And eat.

#lu warriors #tl scribbles #lu chain #tl asks

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randomfandommaddness · 7 months ago

Text

Silent Salt is the Founder of the St. Pastry Order Conspiracy

Solidarity- unity of feeling or action, especially among individuals with a common goal, interest, or BELIEF.

Freedom- The power of choice in actions, thoughts, words without hinderance. - Alternatively, the option to choose the greater good for one's self, and/or for another's sake.

Silence- The restriction of actions and words, and the total control of thoughts. Complete obedience even if the actions are wrong. Tyranny.

Three Updates foreshadow the connection:

1 - The First Tower of Sweet Chaos Update

A- Aesthetics:

- The Backdrop Color scheme for the church Matches Silent Salt's color pallet

- The Shadow sister's order is the closest we get to matching outfits

- Silent's current clothes look torn, but their former attire appears to contain a lace-like fabric (Similar to the pastry order's robes) * There appears to be no imagry of Silent anywhere in to order's church. There are three potential reasons for this:

1- Silent DOES appear, but their helmet is removed (They are the praying cookies at the edges)

2- Silent HAD imagery that was removed after their imprisonment. (Reputation is important for religious groups or cults. Heretic imagery is heavily condemned.)

3- Silent REQUESTED no imagery of them to be made and they operated in the shadows of the order. (Most likely)

B- Beliefs:

* The order worships the witches, And Silent was personally baked by them, so... This could be a case of abusing a belief for the sake of control. We have absolutely no idea what the witches would have wanted, but the order's actions actually don't align with the witches. If they did want what the order is preaching, then Silent Salt WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN LOCKED UP. This actually makes the whole Order built on literal pillars of salt. If the truth got out about the founder, then no one would be fooled by it. Cookies with morals would leave enemas forcing the Order's leaders to crack down on rebellion.

* The order believes that cakes and monsters don't have a place in the world (Similar to medieval beliefs that were influenced by Christianity- Beautiful= Good, Ugly=Bad)

- By the destruction of "The World's Order" Pastry was probably referring to the perseverance of cakes and other desserts (Notice how we don't see anything other than cookies in the order proper)

- This is backed up by Red Velvet, saying "And when you meet your Godly creators, ask them. Ask them about your precious 'Order' that decrees pretty Cookies to live, and forsaken, burnt Cakes to be SLAIN!"

- The weapons of the order are specifically made to purge monsters.

* There is LITERALLY a Book of Salt in their Bible's Equivalence, the Quote "...may thy will guide the fork of your humble servant" is an example. (Of course there are more books, like the Books of Butter and Flour, but Salt being mentioned is suspicious.)

C- The Cake Tower Itself:

-According to the Order, and the cookies of darkness, the first cookies were baked in the tower. As for whether or not the five beasts were baked here is up for debate. But it is possible that they were.

-White Lily being involved with the tower and the witch's banquet in of itself is proof that the order connects back to Silent Salt. White Lily becomes Dark Enchantress Cookie by being re-baked. Did anyone ever make the connection to Dark Enchantress having a very demonic design? The very thing someone like the Order would oppose.

It's not just the design though... It's also her goal! Dark Enchantress seeks to overthrow the witches and recreate the world in her image. And destroying the world that the pastry order protects is absolutely against the order's code. With the Order worshipping the witches, Enchantress is obviously their enemy. But the order is also bad for its own reasons.

If Silent Salt did found the St Pastry Order, then it has been around for a very long time. Long enough to shape the cookie world. Just as Christianity shaped Medieval Europe, The Pastry Order shaped the land of Earth Bread. Even without Silent Salt at the helm, their order is carrying on their wishes. As for their wishes, it's to ensure that cookie kind flourishes, while other desserts are deserted. And there's more...

2 - Cookie Run Odyssey (Where things get dark :D)

A- Asthetics (They're getting more convincing)

- The Cookies in black masks are the closest design to Silent by far - Why the masks guys? Something to hide? (Or someone they're referring to?)

- The weapons all carry a very refined astetic, and also a fork symbol.(Silent's soul jam kinda resembles a fork too. Huh)

- The very presence of the missionaries in the Creme Republic. (Silent's design could be a reference to the Templars from the crusades)

B- Beleifs (They carry the ones above here, but lets add some more salt.)

* The Order Believes that Cookies were made to be eaten (White Lily learned that the hard way)

- The first cookies ran away from their creators (They could be referring to the beasts, but that may not be the case)

- The witches are waiting for the cookies to return (So they can fulfill their purpose of desserts)

- Elder Mille-Feuille Stated "The First Oven will open, and all will become one." This could be referring to the baking and consumption of cookies.

C- Goals and Motives shown in the Odyssey

1- They are after the soul jams. As for why, they say that combining the soul jams together will summon the witches. While we don't know if that is true, it may be possible... But I think that the real reason that they want the soul jam is that it was Silent Salt's final order before they were imprisoned. That way, the order could free both them and the other beasts and restore their power. (Of course, they can't say that that would be selfish!)

2- They are NOT working for or with Dark Enchantress Cookie. We do fight the Order in Odyssey, but during the Final battles, they are nowhere to be seen.

3- The order is trying to convert as many cookies to their cause as possible. Since the youth are impressionable, that's a good place to start. Preaching to the desperate is also a good tactic if they wanna get followers. (Yeesh, they're more like a cult than a church. At least the church is optional!)

3 - White Lily's Beast Yeast Update (Trust me, this update is important)

It is within this update where we get introduced to Silent Salt properly, along with the rest of the beasts. We notice that certain areas of Beast Yeast refer to the five. In the Land of Silence- the Salt Flatlands we see a giant cross on the map. A GIANT CROSS. Yep. Defidenty guilty.

Within this update, we are introduced to our first beast Shadow Milk Cookie, Pure Vanilla's polar opposite. Oddly though, Shadow also has a rivalry with White Lily due to Elder Faerie Cookie leaving her the post as Guardian of the Tree. I always thought it was weird that Shadow would target another ancient hero that isn't Pure Vanilla Cookie... Until we consider Silent Salt's stake in all of this. What if this isn't meant to be a three-way fight, but a four-way?

Silent Salt Vs Pure Vanilla Cookie. How would that play out? Let's start with the very fun possibility of exposing the St. Pastry Order as frauds. After all! Pure Vanilla cookie holds the light of truth, so letting such a harmful and dangerous lie run its rounds unchecked would be against what he stands for! Moreover, having Silent Salt paint Pure Vanilla as a heretic would be very in character for them. Pure Vanilla was inspired by Jesus Christ, Who was persecuted Himself! Oh wait... Does this mean that Silent Salt is going to successfully kill Pure Vanilla Cookie?

The Themes of Solidarity, Freedom, Tyranny, Deceit and Truth. Solidarity is defined as unity. It is a special force that the individual can connect too but is also felt by multiple people. I imagine that the original source of the soul jams power is derived from its core aspect:

- Imagination and curiosity are the source of the power of Knowledge

- Will power and motivation are the source of the power of Volition

- Interest is the source for the power of Love

- Action is the source for the power of Change

- Unity is the source for the power of Solidarity

Now, just as the original soul jam before it was split, the power is still fueled by its aspects, but instead the conditions are a little more specific: - Delusion powers Deceit, while Acceptance powers Truth - Lack of will powers Apathy, while strong will powers Resolution - Lack of Care powers Laziness, while immense care powers Passion - Desires for Carnage power destruction, while Desires for Worth Power Creation - Absolute submission powers Silence, While Individuality Powers Freedom.

Now unlike most powers, Solidarity is powered by a group of cookies with a common goal and a feeling and sense of unity. In order for that power to be strong, the connection they share must be strong. Kinda hard to do when everyone believes in completely different things... But what if they didn't? What if all the cookies believed in the same thing strongly? Then the power would flow like the salt in the seas!

However, in order to have a strong belief, you would need a very solid idea. An idea so important that it would be impossible to ignore, doubt, or question... an idea like your makers. Worshipping your creators, creating an empathetic narrative around them... Making it easy to get both mentally and emotionally attached to them, and most importantly: being able to connect to others who do so as well.

It's why the order deems anyone who isn't a cookie as blasphemes. Cookies are a dime a dozen on Earth Bread. But they are also capable of thinking and common sense. Why else was no other dessert chosen to potentially become the order? Other creatures aren't as bright as cookies. And for that reason, cookies are able to be saved, while other desserts are a heresy! Hence why they have to be purged.

If all creatures of Earth Bread share a likeness in the form of cookies, then they have more in common, making it easier to connect with another cookie instead of a cupcake.

When it comes to Silence itself, we are talking about Tryranny. The complete restriction of words and actions. It's all about complete control, even if it's against the will of the victims. ESPECIALLY if it means doing something that will hurt another person. Being constricted isn't going to last forever, and almost always ends in disaster.

Of course, being deemed a "holy being" meant to pass judgement in the name of their creators lets you get away with some messed up stuff. How do you know if they are acting for the cause, or for their own interests? You can't tell, and that's the whole point. Silent Salt is using a so called "Holy Cause" as an excuse to do horrible things to other cookies and desserts. Namely:

- Making everyone believe in a suicidal ideology (.... What do you even call this? Brainwashing?)

- Deeming any critics as Heretics and killing them (Assassination/Murder)

- Using everyone's impressions as a source of power and control (Abuse on a wide scale)

- Going against the witches, all while claiming to work in their name (The worst evil in the world: Hypocrisy)

- Using the set of beliefs that controls everyone to cut down innocent creatures who did nothing wrong. (Mass Genocide)

- Tricking others into killing for the cause as well (They're still guity, but it's not entirely on their heads)

- He probably turned families against each other as well! Mainly over beliefs. (I... I have no words for this. It's too horrible to even imagine.)

Yes. The list of crimes for this cookie is long. I wouldn't even be surprised if they were the evilest of the Beasts.

Now for the million dollar question: How do you beat Silent Salt cookie?

Well, their power comes from unity under their constrictive control, and that control comes from the strong beliefs in the orders followers. So, the only way to beat them, would be to turn everyone against them. More specifically, dividing the order, and getting them to disband somehow. The number one way to do this is by exposing the order to the truth. And it's no stretch to believe that Pure Vanilla himself will be involved with this part.

Just as White Lily beat Shadow Milk with the power of free will (She chose her own option over the two options Shadow gave her), Pure Vanilla is going to use the truth and expose the Pastry order, having them turn on themselves in disarray. With infights and zero control, Beating Silent Salt is just a matter of skill. Of course, you'd have to be pretty convincing to go up against the order's core beliefs. So, what if Pure Vanilla bought the witches into the picture? It would be cool if he could find out the real reason why the cookies were baked the way that they were. Though I'd imagine that Silent would actually turn the order against him at first, get Vanilla killed, then the witches would re-bake pure vanilla cookie in front of the order. That would be super cool! :D

Also, I forgot to add that the St. Pastry Order will probably invade the Fairy Kingdom. Just as Christianity Settled in northern Europe.

Where Silent Salt Is Sown

Living Things can't be Grown.

Small Note: There may be more that I forgot. Feel free to add to the list!

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #silent salt cookie #white lily cookie #pure vanilla cookie #shadow milk cookie #crk #crk theory #scatterbrain #:D

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melancholymetropolis · 2 years ago

Text

PillowTalk

plot: A normal breakfast takes a steamy turn.

pairings: Aizawa Shota x Pregnant!Reader

genre(s): Marriage of Convenience AU; Shameless Smut

warnings: MUTUAL PINING. former boss/assistant. mansion in the middle of the woods. stay-at-home wife (kinda). CEO husband. ROLEPLAY. reader is a book nerd. chasing. lowkey beauty & the beast au. toxic ex. library sex. PIV SEX. rough. table top. mentions of voyeurism + masturbation. pet names (princess, little wife, beast, prince charming etc) light breeding. teasing. Aizawa is a simp for his wife. y/n is a dirty -talker. BOTH OF THEM ARE REALLY HORNY FOR EACH OTHER

w.c: 4.4k

Aizawa Shota lowered the newspaper from his view and lifted the coffee cup to his lips. He took a hefty gulp of the cool drink and I felt myself squirm in my seat.

My kinda-husband was simply too hot for words and I was beginning to lose my mind. His dark hair was pulled into a messy bun at the back of his head, but a few (selective) strands framed his face. He decided to grow out his facial hair a bit, sporting a deviously dark five o’clock shadow. The white dress shirt framing his chest was seconds away from breaking at any sudden movements. The black suit he wore was tailored to his body perfectly— framing his butt and thighs gorgeously. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones or the lack of pleasure I had acquired in recent months— I wanted him. I wanted him badly.

I wanted my fake husband to toss me to the table and devour me, just like how he did our breakfast.

I wanted him to mount me like the sexual beast I knew he was and pound me into the table.

I wanted him to ruin other—

“How are things?” He asked, snapping me out of my reverie.

“Uh. . . what things?” I asked absentmindedly.

His black eyes flicked onto my face, taking in my flushed expression. “Are you hot? Do you want me to turn down the thermostat?”

Oh, I am hot. Hot and ready for you to slurp me like—

“N-No,” I stammered, bringing my iced tea to my lips. I took a slow sip before setting the glass back on the table. “And everything is fine! The doctor said my blood pressure and cortisol levels were not as high as before and were leaning toward normal. She also told me to start drinking okra water and to work on my breathing, since I reaching the end of my trimester.”

Aizawa nodded. “Seems to be all good news. I am happy to hear it.”

“Well, there is only good news because of you and your support,” I said sheepishly.

The statement was very true, if it weren’t for Aizawa I probably would’ve been dead by now. That was not an exaggeration whatsoever.

We didn't marry for love, nor was this union arranged. It was a simple matter of convenience. I was his secretary and he was the CEO of the company. I was already engaged to another man prior, but he left me mere weeks after I had fallen pregnant. My fiance cleared our joint account and fled the country. Leaving me with nothing. I was forced to consider going back to the united states and sleeping in my childhood bedroom with a newborn.

Aizawa, out of the blue, presented the possibility of a marriage between us. He would pay for everything. The medical bills, food, car payments, baby supplies— all I had to do was manage the house staff: sign off on repairs, oversee their daily tasks, and inform him of anything out of the ordinary. He was basically paying me to be a housewife, without the strenuous duties of cooking, cleaning, and tending to the kids. Plus, Aizawa suggested I get a night nanny so I could rest a little better.

The deal sounded a little too good to be true. But, given the two years we spent working together, I knew he was trustworthy. I took the leap and ended up living an absolute fairytale life for the past 5 months. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Although, deep down, I wished we explored a little past our new normal.

Maybe even find ourselves entangled in the sheets and trying out all kinds of positions.

I’m pretty sure I can still get my leg over my head if I really tried. Giving him enough room to dig deep in me and rearrange my guts.

"You don't have to thank me every chance you get," a small smile stole his face. "In fact, I should be thanking you."

"Oh really?"

The smile widened and the brunette adjusted his position in the chair. His arms crossed against his broad chest and the buttons strained from the action. The muscles in his forearms flexed underneath his rolled-up sleeves. His biceps bulged a little against the cotton fabric. The longer I looked at him the wetter I felt the seat of my panties become. If he kept being so absentmindedly attractive, I would soon find myself sprayed out on my bed, fingers probing my slick walls, wishing he were on top of me.

Damn, I have it bad.

“Y/N!” Aizawa said in a raised voice.

I blinked several times and cleared my throat. “Y-Yes?”

“Are you sure you okay?” He asked, leaning forward.

“Yeah! It’s just the. . . hormones!” I blustered. “You know, all those raging, sweaty hormones that make it hard for me to focus.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are sure it's only the hormones? And not some other factor?”

“Uh. . .” I stammered.

Aizawa, suddenly, rose from his seat and walked around the round table. His eyes never left my face and a smirk was forming on his lips. He appeared next to me in an instant. He pressed one hand on the table and another on the back of my chair. Aizawa leaned forward until our faces were mere inches apart.

“I heard you the other night,” he stated, a certain hunger in his eyes.

“What are you talking about?” I gulped.

“You cried out for me,” he said, plainly. “Begging me to. . . how did you say it? Oh! ‘Split you apart with my thick dick’.”

The realization hit me like a sledgehammer. It had been the night he had come back from a run around the block. He was shirtless and the shorts were low on his hips. His sculpted v-line was on full display, along with his sensual muscles. He was breathing so heavily, panting and mewling from the strenuous exercise. He claimed to have “overdid” it this time. He ran at full speed for the last few blocks and all the way up our long driveway. His long hair was, again, pulled into a messy bun, highlighting his sharp jaw and rugged features.

He looked so hot. So fuckable. I wanted to mount him like the stallion he was and ride him into the sunset.

". . . Oh," I murmured, turning away from him.

"'Oh' is right," he chuckled. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop but you were so loud and luscious that I couldn't help myself." Aizawa leaned forward, his lips brushing against my earlobe. "And saw you too. Your door was cracked open just for me to see."

Shivers ran down my spine and my womanhood throbbed. His hot breath was caressing my ear, whilst his mouth did the same. His body was so close, yet he wasn't laying a finger on me. The temptation was swiftly sending me over the edge. I hated the slow, seductive game he was playing. I knew the ending would not be in my favor. He wasn't the type of man to spread me open like a Thanksgiving feast, nor was he the type to treat me like an animal. He wanted me begging, weeping for his touch. Despite the rather x-rated thoughts running through my mind at the moment, I couldn’t allow myself to succumb to his game so easily.

“Who knew you were such a little perv,” I giggled, lifting my mug to my lips. I took a small sip of the hot tea and hummed sweetly. “But, I guess, if I was holed up in my office for 40+ hours a week I’d be a little… frustrated as well.”

His fingertips brushed against my arms, tickling me the same way a feather would. “You are playing with fire, little wife.” Aizawa groaned and gripped the back of my chair. “Ever since that faithful night, I have not been able to think straight. Seeing your legs shake and your toes curl, while you work yourself with that sparkly pink toy—” He sucked in a breath and released the back of my chair. He pushed his body away from mine.

Immediately, I rise to my feet and turn to face him. The brunette placed a significant distance between the both of us. His breath was labored and his hand was balled at his side. There was an oblong shape intensely prominent near the zipper of his slacks. The member was only semi-hard and I could already tell that was quite massive. Probably bigger that the sparkly pink dildo I had in my nightstand, certainly thicker that the toy as well.

My assumption was right.

He did have a long, thick dick.

“I like to think myself a patient man,” he started. “A respectable man. I tried my best to keep my distance from you and to give you all the space you need to grow. To heal from whatever happened before our union. I never wanted to force myself or my desires onto you. I never wanted you to think you owed me anything because we were simply married and living together." Aizawa’s brown eyes bore into mine, just as the morning light gracefully captured his face. It gave him an ethereal glow. Made him look even more beautiful that he already was. “I promised myself that I would not touch you or make any advances toward you until I have obtained your explicit consent. However, being near you, feeling your luxurious presence and capturing your delicious scent, while trying not to press my mouth against that gummy pussy is pure agony. ”

Aizawa was so eloquent with how he spoke, sounding like a pure gentleman. Up until that last bit.

“So, from what you’re saying,” I said, tilting my head to the side a little bit. “The beloved prince charming I married 5 months ago is gone? And he was preplaced by a horny, insatiable beast?”

A smirk pulled at his lips. “That’s not exactly true, princess. Charming was always a beast, at least during the night. It took a very special lady to set him straight by morning.”

I hummed once more and pulled my braids into a messy bun. I hiked up my dress and gave him a smile. “Where is the closest soundproof room in the house?”

“A few doors down,” he replied. “It’s the library.”

I took off in a swift jog toward the room, turning my head back to say “You can’t catch me, you fearsome beast.”

His laughter was explosive. “Are we roleplaying, princess?” Aizawa shouted after me.

I was already halfway down the hall, the double doors of the library were swiftly approaching. “Only if you want to,” I shouted back.

“You cannot hide from me, young damsel!” He boasted, as heavily footsteps came stomping my way. “I will capture you one way or another!”

I giggled at the sound of his “beastly” voice and proceeded to quicken my pace. “Please do not harm me, furocious beast. For I am innocent in this matter.”

I have no idea what possessed me to put on this whole act. Maybe I was watching too much Bridgerton or reading entirely too much erotica, but the idea of being chased by a massive man, just to be savagely fucked in the library was exhilarating. The book nerd in me was jumping with joy.

I pushed through the library doors and sped over to the nearest flat surface. A wide table with several wooden chairs surrounding it. I shoved the chairs aside and hopped right on the table. Anticipation ran through my veins. The big, hulking man burst through the room with a loud grunt. The smile on his face was undeniable. My little charade had done its job perfectly: it had taken us out of earshot of the bustling maids in the house and eased the thick tension between us. Aizawa’s playful mood was igniting something within me. Something I didn’t recognize. It had been a while since I had seen him actually enjoy himself. His smile was so wide and genuine that I thought he was a different person.

Not the stressed-out, sleep-deprived spouse that I often avoided.

But the bubbly, fun husband that I always wanted.

His immediate acceptance and active participation in my game showed me that there was a chance. A chance for us to have a real, authentic marriage. A union where we love and cherish each other. One where I didn't have to question whether or not he felt the same way.

“Sweet, delicate princess,” Aizawa groaned, inching close to me. “Please allow me the opportunity to voice my desires without prejudice or ridicule.”

I looked away from his face for a moment and tapped my chin. “Fine, you may.”

“I want you. In every way possible,” he confessed, closing the distance between us. “I have wanted you from the sheer moment you opened your heart to me. From the moment you started staying up a little late to have dinner with me, or when you made it a point to pack me lunch on a particularly long day. When you made Sunday nights my favorite time of the week and got me addicted to Outlander.”

“Since when were you into Outlander?” I asked in disbelief,

“Since you started screaming at the TV, cursing out Sir Jack Randal,” Aizawa chuckled. “I never heard you use so many curses in a single sentence.”

“I still can’t believe he did that to Jamie,” I grimaced.

Aizawa nodded in agreement but carried on with his statement. “You have been the object of my desires and the capturer of my heart for months now. I go to sleep dreaming of your big brown eyes and beautiful smile. I hear your sweet voice in my mind all day long and wish I could spend every moment with you.”

I reached out to grab his hands, which he gladly handed to me. I brought them to my thighs and allowed them to hike up my skirt. The beige fabric lifted from its place at my ankles and exposed the bronze skin underneath. Aizawa settled at the small space between my thighs and gently placed his hands at my sides. His brown eyes bore into mine. The older man looked at me like I was the only woman in the world. Like nothing else mattered but us at this exact moment. His gaze was so pure I could almost cry on the spot.

I hooked my arms around his neck and started to lean closer to him. My eyes fluttered closed and my lips slightly parted. He captured my mouth moments later and his arms swiftly wrapped around my plum form. Aizawa moaned against my lips as if marveling at the sensation. His mouth danced across mine gracefully, following my lead and patiently waiting for the next step.

My hands were in his hair and my thighs rested against his hips. I gently rolled my damn center over his semi-hard front. The lust was quickly growing the long he kissed me and soon I wouldn't be able to contain it. The confession had provided me with all the information I needed— our feelings were mutual. He wanted to give this fake marriage some authenticity and turn it into a real one. I was beyond excited.

I tore my lips away from his searing embrace and whimpered as he dragged a tongue along the side of my neck.

"Take me," I gasped, clawing at his back. "Right here. Right now."

The brunette lifted his head from my neck and immediately started fumbling with the buttons on my blouse. Seconds later, he exposed the lacy number underneath and growled at the sight. His skilled fingers undid the finicky clasp in the back, exposing the plump mounds to his eager eyes.

"Your breasts are so full and round," Aizawa groaned.

His thumbs gently ran across the pebbled nipples and a hiss left my lips.

The older male immediately paused his actions. "Did I hurt you, princess?"

A blush flickered on my cheeks as I sheepishly looked away. "No. . . They're just really sensitive."

"Well, I'll try to be more careful with them," he stated, lowering his body until his face was directly staring at the bosoms.

His hot tongue tenderly flicked the right nipple several times before giving it a long seductive lick. Shivers ran down my spine as he kept giving sloppy kisses to the sensitive bud. The seat of my panties was drenched. My arousal practically glued them to my lower lips. My legs were vibrating with anticipation. The hot mouth moved over to the left nipple and I thought I ascended to heaven. Aizawa moaned as he sucked on the breast. He was enjoying the lewd act and it was intriguing to see.

He released the bud and a long string of drool connected the two as he pulled away. He brought his lips to mine and gave me a mind-numbing kiss. His fingers dipped between my thighs as we made out. He pressed two fingers against the wet area and started to rub small circles right at the top of the slit. My poor clit was already throbbing from the foreplay and it seemed to pulse after that action. I moaned against his lips and pulled away. The area was so wet and sensitive that I knew it wouldn't take long to push me over the edge. Especially after he gave my nipples such delicate care.

"What a cute face my little princess is making," he purred, pressing his forehead to mine. "Looks like she wants to cum."

I nodded, keeping direct eye contact with the seductive man. "I do, you beast. I want to cum all over your pretty cock and gorgeous face. Will you let me?"

The older man groaned and removed his hand from my panties. "Coming on my face is just gonna have to wait until our next rendezvous. I'm afraid if I don't slip into that dripping wet pussy I'm gonna burst. And we wouldn't want that, right?"

"We sure wouldn't," I said absentmindedly rubbing my baby bump.

Aizawa smirked before slowly unbuttoning his dress shirt. He threw the cotton garment aside before fiddling with his belt. His eyes never left my face and that seemed to make his actions even hotter. He pulled his pants and boxers down in one swift motion; leaving the thick, long member to spring free.

My eyes widened at the sight. He was certainly bigger than I imagined. Definitely bigger than my ex, who could barely last 5 minutes without busting. Aizawa was indeed a patient man, a kind man. That was the only reason I could gather for why God would bless him with such a beast. Maybe I too was God's favorite, since he allowed me to marry such a good man.

Not only was he fine as hell, tall and rich— his dick was big. I had no doubt I had hit the lottery in the husband department.

"Are you okay, princess?" He asked. "Would you like to take a breather?"

"I breathed enough," I shot back. "Come take these panties off and pound me with your long, thick dick."

Aizawa chuckled and hooked his thumbs under my waistband. He pulled the cotton panties down my plump legs and tossed them to the side. He aligned the head of his cock with my womanhood and just before easing himself in, Aizawa paused and gave me a final look, as if to ask me ‘are you sure?” I nodded immediately and widened my thighs a little bit more. The thick member sunk right into me with little resistance, on account of how wet my womanhood was. Pregnancy amplified all my bodily functions to the hundredth degree, including how soiled my underwear became anytime I saw something that appealed to me. Or, anytime I saw my husband.

The brunette helped me lay flat on my back against the table and adjusted the position of my legs. He hooked my limbs over his forearms and continued to push into me. I gasped when every inch was nestled into my greedy pussy and my eyes fluttered closed. I placed one hand above my head, gripping the edge of the table and the other underneath my belly. I braced myself for impact. Aizawa started off slow, rolling his hips against my pelvis gently. I could feel every inch inside of me. The slow thrusts softly pushed against my sensitive spots, causing me to squirm and wiggle underneath him.

"Can I move a little faster, princess?" He grunted, tilting his hips a little bit.

"Please move faster, beast," I panted, digging my nails into the table. "I cannot take this teasing any longer."

Aizawa took a firm hold of the table and chuckled quietly. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

The older man’s hips gradually began moving faster against mine. At first, my little mewls remained relatively uninterrupted by the change. I pretended to be disinterested in the movements, rolling my eyes and telling him to move faster. To fuck me harder. Informing him that I was displeased by his treatment, Aizawa’s persistent behavior of treating me like a delicate flower was starting to frustrate me. I was a woman above anything else. This pregnancy had almost everyone in my everyday life view me as fragile. Something that could easily be broken with little force and it struck anger in my being. Since my body is sturdy enough to grow an entire human being, I was pretty sure it was strong enough to handle some power thrusts from a man.

“Come on, beast,” I teased, a smile kissing my teeth. “Don’t tell me this is all could do? Some half-hearted pumps and expected me to be satisfied? I thought you were more of a savage than this.”

Without a word, Aizawa started to snap his hips against mine harshly. A good portion of his force was colliding with my body and it made my heart sing. My breath was caught in my throat and my legs started to tremble. I rested my body on my elbows and looked into his dark eyes. He was already looking at my face. The smile on his lips was stirring something within me. Almost like he knew I wouldn’t last long or I couldn’t handle the power of his thrusts. There were two words lingering on his tongue that I was dying to hear him say. Something that would definitely send me over the edge.

The man towering over me tilted his hips once more and a squeal shot out of my mouth. My back fell right back onto the table and I raised both arms above my head to grip the edge. The plush head of the cock was hammering the underside of my cervix, a very sensitive area deep within my cunt. My body started to tremble in response and my breathing became hollow. Pressure started to build in my abdomen and a pool started to form. My walls started to pulse against his massive cock and I couldn’t string together a single thought. My body started to tingle and my mind started to blur. Drool spilled from my lips as my eyes started to roll back.

The orgasm was slow, deep, and damning. My body twisted and contoured into various weird positions as I rode the hot wave. I said my husband’s name like a prayer, chanting it over and over again. I begged him not to stop, to keep going, to take me to heaven. And he did just that. Aizawa kept his hard, sharp pace. He continued to drill that girthy dick into my snatch like he became addicted to the feeling. My body completely succumbed to the pleasure, not wanting to do anything else but relish in it. It wasn’t long before another orgasm began to build and my legs started to tremble all over again.

“Fuck!” I cried, arching my back against the table.

“Come on, princess,” Aizawa cooed. “Give beasty another one. I know you have it in you.”

The older man’s hips started to sputter and twitch, indicating to me that he was next to reach his peak. But, like the respectable man he was, Aizawa continued his sickening pace. Eventually, my eyes gradually opened and I took in the scene before me. A hulking man with rippling muscles and a gorgeous face was looming over me. Drilling his cock in me at a record pace with a smile on his face. He held my legs nice and wide in a seductive ‘v’. He was watching my every expression, movement and taking in my sounds. Aizawa was fully invested in pleasuring my horny, pregnant self and I was grateful. I never wanted this moment to end. I wanted to feel the weight on his body forever. I never wanted to part from him. I needed to be with him as long as humanly possible.

The second orgasm was harder than the last. It tore through me like lightning and forced my toes to curl. My eyes were wide open for this one. I watched Aizawa lean forward and gather me desperately. He held me close and proceeded to rut into my creamy pussy. He pressed his hot mouth to mine while his hips trembled and spasmed. His head fell on my shoulder when the pleasure became too great and he couldn’t hold out any longer. Hot cum shot into my awaiting womb, gradually filling me to the brim. Aizawa’s slow and rhythmic thrusts made the feeling even more sensual. It was as if he was fucking the semen into me, hoping to make me pregnant all over again.

I never thought I’d have a breeding kink, but his actions convinced me otherwise.

Soon, it was nothing but our labored breathing filling the library. Our bodies were still one and his chest was still pressed against mine. My fingers were slowly running through his hair while his arms were tightly wrapped around my back. It seemed like the older gentleman had no intention of letting me, even though we were both sweaty and panting. It made me feel special.

“Is this okay?” He asked, breaking the silence. “Me holding you like this?”

“It’s fine,” I replied with a sigh.

“Okay. Just let me know if I am crushing you or the baby.”

“Alright, Aizawa,” I giggled.

Suddenly, he lifted his head from my shoulder and pressed his forehead against mine.

“That’s not what you’re supposed to call me, princess,” he acknowledged. “I am your husband, not some stranger on the street.”

“Than what am I supposed to call you then?”

He thought for a moment. “I think Shota would be fitting.”

“Shota?”

“And Beast/Charming on special occasions,” he said with a wink.

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a/n: there are hints in the story letting you know what kind of fic I'll be posting next. let's see who can guess it before sunday.

Also, a little update, I will be posting FULL SMUT SCENES from this point forward. So get ready for 2k - 4k worth of filth. Good luck going to sleep at night.

Finally, let me know if you would like to be added to my official taglist. I will be alerting you everytime I upload!

bye for now!

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