#god i wish we were given more information on this man

[coochellati]

I’VE NOTICED SOMETHING!!!!

According to the anime, Bruno was born in the suburbs of Naples.

Later on, when Bruno thinks he is speaking with Trish, he mentions that he owns a house in the suburbs of Naples.

Methinks there may be a connection—this information makes me wonder…

…is this house his childhood home? We’re never told exactly what happened to his family’s house—there’s a good chance Bruno inherited the place after his father passed away.

If it isn’t, did he buy a house near where he grew up to feel connected to his past? Sure, there many of suburbs around Naples, but I like to think he chose to live near to where he grew up.

And this thought doesn’t come without reasoning—there’s evidence in Purple Haze Feedback that supports the idea that Bruno wants to hold memories of his family close. (If you consider PHF to be canon, of course.) A passage within the book states that Bruno has one of his late father’s old fishing nets hanging on the wall in his living room.

If he’s sentimental enough to hang a direct reminder of his dad in his living room, then it wouldn’t be a stretch to assume he would want to live close to the place he was raised. Perhaps it comforts him.

[barbieaemond]

Lykirī

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

WARNINGS: loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), handjob, we ride him bitches, dom/sub tones if you squint

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

Author's note: an early Christmas gift for those who celebrate!! For those who don't, just a regular smutty piece. This was based on a request where wife!reader rides Aemond. Merry Aemondmas :)

MASTERLIST

taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @arcielee

"You are to marry the King's second son. Prince Aemond Targaryen."

Those were your father's words. Your sister had looked at you almost with pity and a hint of relief since that fate had befallen you and not her. You had simply nodded, accepting the fate decided by your father, just as thousands of other daughters before and after you would have done.

Your mother had come to comb your hair before going to bed, and without much ado, she had told you what would happen after the wedding, after the banquet.

"All you have to do is try to relax your nerves, and I promise it will be less painful.”

The thought had stuck in your brain until the wedding day. And the aura emanating from the prince didn't help. He was stoic to the point of looking like a statue, his posture rigid as a spindle, and there was something unsettling about him that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand when he took your hand to recite the wedding vows. Fear, but also a foreign giddiness prickling your skin upon feeling his calloused fingers around yours.

The banquet had not helped either. Prince Aegon had behaved like a court jester, drinking to the point of wondering how he could stand upright, poking his brother with cruel jokes about his eye and a whore who had made Aemond a man many years before.

You didn’t know what kind of unpleasant memories your good-brother had just summoned in his brother’s mind. That woman and her cheap perfume, that way it had clung to his skin, to his thoughts for days after his only ever trip to Flea Bottom.

Then the elder Prince had approached you with his breath stinking of Dornish and it was then that Prince Aemond broke his icy silence, standing up abruptly and looking down at you. "Come, wife. It is time for us to retire."

Prince Aegon had clapped his hands as if in front of a hilarious show, saying "Finally some fun! The bedding!"

The entire crowd present at the banquet had escorted you to the prince's chambers. The servants had removed your dress, leaving you in your underskirts; you had unconsciously covered your chest, crossing your arms to hide from the greedy eyes of the men peering in the doorway, Prince Aegon in the front row with yet another cup of wine clutched between his fingers.

Master Mellos invited you to lie down on the bed, and you obeyed, swallowing, while a host of servants shielded you from view as the Maester made his humiliating inspection.

"All is in order, your Graces," the Master informed the Prince and Queen. And that was enough for Aemond to completely slip the iron mask off his face and go straight to the door. "The show is over. Get out."

"Oh, come on, little brother. Let me watch, at least. I could give you some tips."

Aemond had towered over his brother, and from your seat on the bed, you were able to see the eldest brother shrinking by the moment. "This is not some common whore you're speaking of.” Aemond seethed “She is my wife, and you will owe her the respect she deserves. One more lewd word from your mouth, and I will rip your tongue with my bare hands. Am I being clear?”

"Gods, brother, are you already so cunt-struck?"

He never got an answer, only the door being slammed right into his face.

You stood in the middle of the room, torturing your hands as he looked at you from the door. He seemed unsure of what to do, until he cleared his throat and took a few tentative steps in the room.

“You could have some wine, if you wish. It may…help you.” He said, but as he said this, he seemed to regret his own words, given how his mouth twitched as if he had just tasted something sour. Memories could come just like that, sudden and sour.

“You must relax, my prince. Have some wine, maybe? No need to worry, I will take care of you just as a prince deserves to.”

“I’d like to keep my mind clear, my Prince.” You said, keeping your gaze down, hearing his fast and deep sigh. “Fine.” he said, straightening his back as a soldier. After all, wasn’t this just another duty?

It wasn’t just that though. You were his wife now, the future mother of his children. It was his duty and his right to claim you as his own.

“Lay on the bed.”

With your heart pounding in your ears, you did as you were told but when the mattress dipped under his weight, you did not expect to see him with his clothes still on, the eyepatch firmly in its place. More so, you did not expect the harshness of his gestures as he held your waist to turn you around. The air hitched in your throat as your face met the mattress and a strange sorrow gripped your heart. Did he not want to look at you? Did he not like you?

“Try to stay still and it’ll be over shortly.” he said. He was trying to sound reassuring, but his voice came out cold and flat. His fingers latched on your underskirts, hiking them up, filling you with embarrassment as you grow completely exposed beneath him.

Aemond knew what to do. He may not have been as depraved as his brother, but he was still a man. And once in a while, when his hands would not suffice, some maid or servant girl would’ve had to bear, quite keenly on their part, his intimate attentions.

As his hands began to glide on your thighs, you shivered and said “Wait…”

Slowly your head turned to look at him, cheeks red and breath slow and anxious. “Am I not allowed to look at you?”

Your words seemed to stun him for a moment. The mere thought of you wanting to look at him made him realize how wrong he was behaving. You were his wife, not a common whore to bend over and have his moment of bliss. He had even told Aegon. That was not his intention, but there was a gap between how he felt and how he acted, a limb severed by years of pity looks and feelings trapped in his mouth and swallowed.

Almost gently, he made you turn but once you were facing him, he pinned your wrists on the mattress, unable to touch him even if you had gathered enough courage to do it. You tried to brace yourself for what your mother had told you. But she had not told you that he would touch you there, that all your senses would go numb except for that one brand new feeling between your legs. But he seemed enthralled by it just as you, his mouth parting to let out slow puffs of air as you grow wet and swollen against his fingers.

Your breath was labored, coming out in soft pants that made your cheeks purple. More so because he kept circling his deft fingers on your core while looking straight into your eyes, reveling in the way you were answering to his call, in the way he was shaping your need, your desire.

“You never touched yourself, did you?” he asked in a husky voice.

You barely shook your head and his eye glinted with something dark as he brought his face close to yours “Good. I shall be the only one inside you.”

He swallowed your shaky breath with this mouth, kissing you for the very first time, apart from the shy, almost prude peck exchanged after the wedding vows. Your lips moved shyly, trembling with the coiling pressure between your legs. And just when you thought this heat, this delicious aching couldn’t grow more unbearable, he sticked a finger inside you, spilling a loud moan right against his mouth.

One of your wrists twisted in his harsh hold, willing to touch him, to grip on something, but he didn’t let you. “Easy…” he blew on your lips “Relax. It’ll feel good, I promise…”

It surely felt good to him, to feel the tightness of your cunt squeezing his finger. He curled it and you squinted your eyes, choking a gasp that made him smirk proudly against your jaw. “Gods, you’re so tight…” he breathed as he kept rubbing slowly against your walls.

“It’s—it’s too much—“ you cried out with pain and pleasure running together, breathing his scent of ash, leather and a hint of something minty.

“How will you take my cock if you can’t even take my finger?” He whispered with benevolent cruelty, moving his finger faster and deeper.

Certainly your mother had not told you of the obscene wet sounds you would hear, of the uncontrollable moans coming out of your mouth, of his soft growling next to your ear when his breeches became too tight.

He had lined the tip of his hard manhood to your entrance, catching your breath away as tried to still your nerves, but the pain came altogether. You felt like he was cutting you from the inside. Tears filled your eyes, squinting for the painful stretching. You knew he was restraining himself; he didn’t want to hurt you more than he already was. And you almost felt affection for him, most men would not have bothered.

Then he had started to move, you felt that stranger body rubbing over and over against your walls, and finally the pain soothed, but not completely. You could tell he was enjoying it, his ragged breath and faint moans told you so, as well as the curses hissed through his teeth in a language you guessed was Valyrian. And then he had stilled completely, gripping your hips hard and firm while you felt a hot wave pulsing through your core.

The next morning, you could barely sit down for breakfast, and your aunt had looked at you with concern and a hint of amusement in her eyes. She was a veteran at court, a long-time widow, and quite happy to be so. It was her who suggested your betrothal to the Prince.

"How are you feeling, sweet niece?"

"Awful." you said promptly, shifting your weight on the seat.

"Well, this is the kind of anguish all women must go through."

"I thought that was giving birth to another human being."

"Oh Gods, no. That is the ugly part. This is the good one," she said with a sly smile "I suggest you enjoy it as much as you can."

At the time, you didn't really understand what she meant. The first night with the prince had gone...well, you thought. But he certainly enjoyed it more than you.

The second time was better. Your muscles were still sore, but the pain was but a faint discomfort compared to the pleasure you felt for the very first time in your life.

The third time he went down on you, bringing you so close to the edge only to deny your release, with cruel enjoyment on his part, making you whine with shame at the loss of his mouth and tongue on your folds.

The fourth time he bent you down on the breakfast table, all things falling in a mess of cutlery. He had pulled up your skirts and lowered his breeches just enough to thrust in, unraveling a special spot deep inside of you that had you mewling like some primitive beast.

The fifth time he had you writhing in bed, hair stuck to your head with sweat and hands clenching the sheets while he had you peak three times in a row.

It was then that you started to think your aunt was right.

That was indeed the good part.

“Are you afraid?” he asks, with a soft taunt on the tip of his tongue. You drag your eyes away from the gigantic beast before you and almost scoff. That is enough for him to laugh, quietly, but still not quietly enough for you to not notice and wonder at the view.

It’s been merely one moon since you’ve been married to Prince Aemond, and you could count on the fingers of your hand the times you have seen him laugh. It was eerie at first, you feared all the things you heard about the One Eyed Prince were true. That he was cold as stone and just as hard. And he was. But the more you spent time together, the more you were able to make cracks, and let light through.

“I’m equally afraid as any little mortal of right mind would be in front of the largest dragon in the known world, my dear husband.”

His lips stay quirked up, but his eye widens, as it always does when you call him that. He steps close to you, a few of his long strides are enough for him to tower over you, and the ground below your feet shifts.

“Come.” He says, taking your hand, “I promise she won’t eat you.” This time you deliberately glare at him, and he raises an eyebrow. “Do you need some other kind of persuasion to trust me? Perhaps like the one I used this morning?”

The early afternoon sun makes his face almost hurting to watch, or maybe it's just his bold gloating that makes his appearance so exhausting.

“That was not persuasion.” you remark, hiding the tinge of red on your cheeks “It was coercion.”

“Hmm. You didn’t seem so hostile when I made you come twice before breakfast.”

"I was hostile to the chance of the maid assisting with what we were doing."

"The maid should know better than to enter while my wife is undressing."

His eye roams over you just as he had done that morning, hunger clouding it, making your insides shrink. "Perhaps it's best if she knew. Someone must be aware of how cruel my husband is." there's a soft tease in your tone—something you are still learning, but true nonetheless.

He had ripped your nightgown with his bare hands when the maid entered to help you dress. She fled hastily, but you barely spared a glance at her, already lost to the fierce claim of his hand between your legs. He had taken you, twice, and then ordered you to dress, forcing you to have breakfast with the Queen and the Princess with your thighs still sticky with sex, sticky with him.

And he had been there, sitting just in front of you, with a piercing and delighted gaze.

He pulls your hand, and you follow, getting closer to that living relic that is Vhagar, Queen of All Dragons. She raises her monstrous head and looks straight at you with her amber eyes.

It is the first time you step so close to her, and even if you thought about it a lot, your heart is pounding fast, and your breath comes out slow and labored. She's a dreadful wonder.

She flares her nostrils and smells you, making a low rumble which results in a gust of hot wind that ruffles your hair and skirts.

“Lykirī, Vhagar.” Aemond says quietly “Issa ñuha ābrazȳrys. Kostā pāsagon zirȳla.”

You look at him questioningly, and he answers. “I told her you are my wife. And she can trust you.”

You cast a curious look at the dragon and then back at him “Is that all it takes? You tell dragons to trust you, and they resist the urge to turn you into their meal?”

Aemond curves his lips and makes you step closer, standing behind you and guiding your hand on the old green scales. “It takes much more than that.” he whispers in your ear “You have to surrender to them, completely. A dragon is no slave.”

You feel the heat beneath your palm, but it’s not that that makes you swallow; it’s the heat of his breath on your neck, right into your ear, scorching his way into your brain and inflaming every thought.

“What does Lykirī mean?” you ask, and you hate how your voice cracks on the edges.

He smirks because he knows, he always does. But he does not answer. Instead, he pulls your hand again, and you follow, circling the beast until stopping before the intricate ropes that lead to the saddle.

“Aemond, I don’t think—”

“You are my wife and you will ride with me on dragon back.” He said, commanding.

Truthfully, you gladly want to obey; there is just a slight difference between picturing riding a dragon and doing it.

Even the climbing to get in the saddle is a challenge on its own, but he helps you until you firmly seat yourself in it. Aemond sits behind you, and you look around with widened eyes, as if you are looking down from the highest tower ever built, except this is a living one, made of fire and breathing fire.

He leans over you to grab the reins, and you tense, waiting with bathed breath.

“Dohaeras, Vhagar. Soves!”

She lets out a loud screech that makes your ears hurt, but you have no time to even register it because she's already moving. You grip Aemond’s arms and brace yourself against his chest when Vhagar lurches onward and opens her huge wings to take flight.

She goes up and up, above the clouds, and your head is dizzy, with fear, with euphoria, until you are laughing like a child, like you never did in your entire life. Aemond lets go of the reins and laces his arms around you, angling his head to look at you, his silver hair violently ruffled by the wind. “How does it feel, my sweet wife?”

There are no common words to describe it. Now you know why they say Targaryens are closer to Gods than men. No man could claim a dragon or rule the skies.

“I feel like I’m close to the Gods.” you say, and he tightens the hold on you “Dragons do not answer to Gods.” he says, burying his nose in your hair “Where does this leave us?”

You turn your head to look at him, and you feel like you are looking at one of them. And yet he looks like he’s beyond any God.

“Above them. Above the Gods.”

“Hmm.” He croons, breathing your scent through his nose, and then his right hand grabs your skirt and dips underneath, until you feel his cold fingers grazing your skin. “I will make you feel like one.”

He cups your core through your small clothes, and you whimper, gripping his arm harder. He feels your heat through his palm, hotter than Vhagar’s own fire, and he sets the fabric aside to properly touch you. “My sweet wife.” he whispers, sliding a finger between your folds “Always so ready for me.”

“Aemond.” You say, holding your breath, trying to oppose but your voice cracks, and your body with it, already answering to his call. You see clouds before your eyes, but it’s all a blur, all your senses are enslaved by his touch, rubbing lazy circles on your bud. Too slow for your liking, for your need. Your hips arch and buck, chasing his hand for more friction, and he laughs, darkly. “What is it? What do you need, sweet girl? Tell me.”

He takes your chin with his free hand and forces you to turn your head and look at him. His hold is ruthless, but his tone is almost pleading. “Tell me.” he orders and you feel like he’s smothering you, sweeping away all the air from your lungs. “I-I need more…”

“More of what?” he asks, stopping altogether. “Show me.”

You look him in the eye and swallow, heat inflaming your cheeks, but there’s no place for shame, not here. It is just a faint ghost passing through you, and then it’s gone. Your hand pulls the gown up, and you place it on his, like a feather. “Here.” You breathe on his mouth “Inside.”

The howling wind does nothing to muffle his growl, and then he’s kissing you, harshly, teeth clashing and biting your lips as he accepts your plea, sliding a finger inside of you.

A strangled moan escapes you, and he swallows it, darting his tongue in every corner of your mouth. He releases your chin only to grab your leg to further open them and then he adds a second finger, moving them deftly until reaching that special spot. Your head falls back on his shoulder, gasping loudly, digging your nails into his hand.

Your breath is ragged and fast, and you uselessly try to stifle moan after moan even if there are only the skies to hear.

“Don’t.” he says grazing your lobe with his teeth “I want to hear you. I want you to scream for me.”

Your mind goes blank, as does all your restraint. You feel the tide coming to crash you, hips moving on their own accord, chasing and chasing. And then you’re drowning in it, mouth falling open and flesh and bones clenching and trembling.

He grunts softly when your nails scratch his skin and his fingers slip out, glistening; he raises them to his lips and tastes every drop of you. Still panting, he takes your chin once more with his sticky fingers and licks your lips, so you taste yourself on his tongue.

Your head is still dizzy when Vhagar lands in a clearing in the King’s Wood, but this has nothing to do with altitude. Your limbs are heavy when he helps you dismount, your legs buckle. There is a tautness knotting your bones, itching your fingertips.

You wish to touch him, because you have never, not as a wife would touch her husband, not as he has done with you.

It is only a moon and yet he has taken you almost every night and every day. He has touched you everywhere, he has molded you to his liking, and you let him do it with giddiness, undoing yourself like clay in his hands. He had put his mouth on you, and you have discovered he particularly enjoyed it, because he has done that at the most inopportune times, even in some dark corner of the corridors.

And you wondered if you could do the same with him—not because you have to, but because you want to. You want to claim him just as he claims you, relentlessly.

And he really is. He is relentless, he doesn't give you the time to wander with your hands, to discover, to touch. Fire burns him quickly and you are ashes before you realise you are burning with him.

“I didn’t know my wife had claws.” He says at one point, while you are going back to the Keep.

You wake from your thoughts and turn, watching him raise his hand to show the red marks on the back of his hand, and the sight makes you almost proud—proud to have left a mark of you on him. But you want more, and he wants more. You know it; it takes a brief look at his breeches to know that he wants more.

You dart your eyes around, but there's no one. So, you stop. Trying to gather all the boldness you never had, you step closer to him and take his hand in yours. Your eyes look up slowly, glinting with uncertainty and bravery. "Then let me soothe your pain, husband."

Aemond’s eye widens, and the air around you turn heavy, forcing you to open your mouth to breathe. You take one more step and bring the back of his hand to your lips, kissing it gently while your eyes stay fixed on his face. The other hand goes tentatively to his chest and then slides down, and for once, just once, he’s the one answering your call. His eye darkens and his lips part when your hands bashfully grab the laces of his breeches.

But you should have known better. Targaryens and their desires. Doomed to take whatever they want, whenever they want, answering neither Gods nor men.

You barely blink and he grabs you by the wrists and forces you to the ground. Cold grass and bushes stinging your back make you gasp, but Aemond is already on you, watching you like a century-long thirsted man who takes a glimpse of a water spring, as if you could evaporate from his sight at any moment.

“Aemond, please.” you beg “let me—“

But his tongue is in your mouth, hot and scorching you alive. Your eyes flutter shut, and he hikes your skirts up, taking hold of your hips. You feel his bulge against you, hard and ready, and you can do nothing else than wait, pinned down like prey, all bravery a distant memory.

Suddenly he lowers himself down, lifting your skirts with haste until you’re completely bare half down. “No—Aemond, please I want to—”

“You want what?” he asks with a wolfish grin “Deny me your sweet taste? Iksā ñuhon, ābrazȳrys.” He said that already, you know what it means. You are mine.

“You belong to me. And this…” he swears placing your legs on his shoulders while looking at your aching core as a man who found the greatest treasure in the world. “This belongs to me as well.”

He runs his tongue up and down your wet folds, humming with delight as he tastes you and sees you squirm, arching your back on the stingy bushes. You moan loudly when he slowly swirls his tongue, not able to keep track of your hips starting  to move on their own, thrusting into his mouth and the sight of you like this, makes him even wilder, pushing him to open his mouth and put it entirely on your cunt, sucking harshly until anything before your eyes becomes blurred.

Your legs on his shoulders begin to shake and curl, caging him further against you, but just when you are about to come straight into his mouth, he pulls back. A weak sob leaves your mouth as your hips keep bucking against nothing and he smirks at that, untangling your legs from his shoulders, running his tongue over his lips, to taste what's left of you on him. You look at him through dazed eyes and a tinge of annoyance for the denied release. “What?” he has the boldness to ask with a sly smirk “Did you not enjoy it?” he runs his thumb on his glistening chin and swiftly licks it. "Hmm. I most certainly did."

“Aemond, please.” you claw desperately at his shoulders and forearms, forcing him to lie on you, feel something that could soothe the aching between your legs. He seems keen to grant you this mercy, molding his crotch against you so you can feel how hard and desperate he is.

“Please.” you beg in a thin voice.

“Speak it plainly, my love. I want to hear it from your pretty mouth.”

You look at him straight in the eye and what you say next is not a request nor a plea. Your mother would be ashamed of you, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You are not begging. You are demanding. “Fuck me.”

He doesn’t need more than a few moments to get his cock out of his breeches, and not a moment later he’s pushing inside of you, your back arching on the bushes and your throat fighting for breath. He groans and starts a relentless pace, lifting his weight from you just enough for him to look at his cock going in and out, the sight only pushing him to thrust harder and harder. “Look at you.” he croons, sweet and rough “You were born to take me, to be mine.”

Your face twists with pleasure, teeth biting your lower lip while he takes you higher and higher, higher than any sky a dragon could ever take you.

He soon becomes messy and sloppy, cursing under his breath, but you can barely hear him. Your mind is sluggish and everything comes muffled: him, the birds chirping on some tree, your wet flesh slapping against his in the lewdest and most blessed way.

He curses some more, and then he’s spilling inside you, his arched mouth opening and his eye closing like a man absolved.

And yet, he does not stop. He has not claimed enough.

“Māzis, dōna ābrazȳrys. Come for me.”

Your hand clutches something on the ground, something with thorns that pierces your skin with pain, but you can’t even feel that, because you are falling, legs trembling around him, and heart stopping for an endless moment of pure breathtaking bliss.

“Gevie.” he coos with his lips on yours, falling with his body on you, still clenching and pulsing around him. He stays right where he is, nesting inside of you, and now it is the only chance you have been granted to touch him. You put an arm around his shoulders, catching your breath, and look at the skies above, thinking you are indeed above them.

It was easy to explain the dirt and grass stains on your dress. It was a little less easy to explain the twigs in your ruffled hair when you and Aemond returned to the Keep only to meet the Queen Mother along one of the corridors. Alicent merely smiled at you with a tight smile and did not spare from giving a look full of daggers to her son.

"Seven Hells" you mutter when you go back to your rooms and catch a glimpse of the mess you are in the mirror.

Aemond stays on the threshold to close the door and grins, or rather, gloats.

You step out of your muddy shoes and start to pull the laces of your dress.

"What are you doing?" he asks, and you playfully glare at him. "Am I allowed to take a bath now? Or do you want me to go around all sullied? I fear there are no believable excuses for the state I’m in."

"You can tell them the truth." he says, walking to you and replacing your hands with his to help you pull the intricate laces.

You smile softly with your back turned before raising an eyebrow, asking "Which is?"

He keeps his eye focused on the dress, a slight furrow in his brow, and stoically serious, he says "That your husband fucked you in the King's Wood."

"I could tell the maid. I'm sure she won't be stunned after what she saw this morning."

He makes you turn so you can look at him, and the sight before you makes your heart sing. His eye roams on your face softly, a rare sight on him, always stoic, always sharp, like all the angles composing this beautiful sculpture of black glass.

You always thought of marriage as a strategic deal for men, and a way for women to prove their value to the world, giving those same men sons and daughters. But you care for him. And he cares for you. That look on his face is enough for you to know that he cares for you, not merely as a brood mare.

“Gevie.” he says, quietly, and he touches your cheek, softly, making you wonder how those same hands can be so delicate and yet so merciless at the same time.

“What does it mean?” you ask, even if you are sure he will not answer. You observed that when he speaks in High Valyrian he does it almost to himself, as if to protect something he does not wish the others to know.

But this time, he meets your eyes and lowers his hand. “Beautiful.”

You look at him with your heart pounding in your throat, and then you stand up on your toes, crashing your mouth against his, almost catching him by surprise. But he is all too deft at turning the game on his side, and a few seconds later, his hands are gripping your hips and his tongue is licking the roof of your mouth.

When the door suddenly opens, you pull back, spotting the same maid from that morning who, this time, can do nothing but suffer the Prince's wrath.

"Can't you just fuck off for once?!"

You hold back a laugh against his chest and the poor maid flees in a hurry. But when he pulls you to him, tilting his head to pick up where he left off, you step back and say, "I'm afraid the Queen has requested your presence. You should go, my dear husband. I promise that by tonight I will be completely clean."

"Tonight?" he asks, raising his eyebrow. "What is happening tonight?"

You shrug your shoulders and hold back a smile. "Innocence doesn't suit you, my Prince."

"Neither does you."

"I'm afraid this is your fault. You are sullying my soul as well as...everything else."

"You won't be of the same mind when you have my child growing in your womb," and he smirks, looking at you as if he's taking a sacred oath, and then walks away.

You finally manage to take a bath and change clothes, and then you go to visit your aunt. She spends most of her time alone, sipping tea in the gardens, partly because she can't stand the other court ladies, partly because the court ladies can't stand her. Truthfully, you cannot blame them, your aunt speaks plainly—too plainly at times.

You sit down with her for tea, which you end up swallowing like salt, because your aunt takes it with a whole squeezed lemon, and no sugar.

"I saw you with your husband earlier. I may be too old for new fashion but mud on your skirt and twigs in your hair seem a bit too brazen, even for me."

You stifle a smile, recalling what happened. If only she knew he was brazen enough to have you utterly undone on dragon back, thousands of feet up.

Your eyes go distant while you fumble with some tablecloth threads, but your Aunt stares at you piercely, and grabbing her cup of tea she says "I love that look on you."

"What?"

She sips the sour liquid and puts the cup down. "That look. The I'm in love look."

"I am not!" you counter, cheeks going red.

"Of course you are. I've watched you two. I dare say he's falling way faster than you."

You look at her puzzled. Many things have changed in a moon. And you are sure you are utterly infatuated with him. But you did not know what to think of what he actually feels for you, if he even feels something. You know he cares for you, you know he loves spending time with you. You know he's passionate, possessive, almost soft at rare times. But in love? That seems too soon to consider, or to hope for.

"It is too soon to talk about love."

"In fact, I did not, my sweet niece. Falling in love and love are beasts of different species. Why do you think we say "falling"? You can't stop from falling. To love a person is an entirely different matter. Love is a choice."

You let those words sink but you prefer not to question your heart right now. There is a reason you have come here to talk to your aunt, even if you don't know how to address the matter without melting from embarrassment.

But in the end, who could you ask for advice? Your squeamish maids? The Queen Mother? Definitely not.

"Listen, I...I wanted to ask you something..." you start "It is uhm...a matter of somewhat intimate nature."

"Ah, my favourites." your aunt says, beaming "I am all ears."

You shift uncomfortably in your chair and swallow another sip of that dreadful tea "My mother...she explained to me what would happen between husband and wife to...consummate the marriage. But she didn't tell me...well, everything else."

Your Aunt is quick to raise her eyebrow "I gathered that your marriage had been consummated by now. Thoroughly."

"Y-yes, of course. But I...discovered...that there are other ways for a husband to please his wife...and I was wondering if...if I could…do those same things to please him."

Your aunt looks utterly puzzled for a long moment, and then, almost stunned, she says "Oh Seven Hells, child. You are telling me you never sucked your husband off?"

A few court ladies walking near turned their heads, going white as sheets, while you, on the contrary, take a nice purple shade.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, prissies. We all did it eventually." she dismisses them, waving a lazy hand, and looks back at you. "You should do it, if you wish. Men love it. Your uncle used to ask—"

"I don't want to hear that, auntie, I'm begging you." you say squinting your eyes.

"Listen to me, child. Men love to think they rule everything, everywhere. But it is not always like that. And if you want to rule your husband's heart, you must rule in his bed first."

That evening, Aemond wanted nothing more than to lock himself in his room with his wife and forget all the hateful political talk he had had to endure at dinner.

You had not attended, and that had bothered him. Never would he have thought of marriage as anything more than a duty, yet there he was, wondering where you were, who you were with, and why you weren't in his rooms when he set foot in there.

"Where is my wife?" he asks the maid, and she keeps her eyes glued to the floor, saying "The princess spent the evening in the library, your Grace. She told me that she would be—"

"I am here," you say, appearing behind the young maid.

You see his chest sag as if a weight is leaving him, and he casts an icy glance at the poor maid "Out."

He is rarely kind to servants, but you can tell by his tense shoulders that something is wrong.

"Aemond, what is the matter?" you ask as soon as the door closes, walking up to him with a hand behind your back.

"Where were you? Why weren't you at dinner?"

"I was in the library."

"For four hours?"

"It was a tough read—"

He grabs your arm, gripping hour wrist harshly, and you flinch. "Aemond, I swear to you.” you say watching his eye on fire and a sneer twisting his mouth “You can ask Maester Mellos." 

Suddenly he lets you go, and looks down, closing his eye for a moment. But he doesn't apologize, he never does, and not because he is a Prince. It's just the way he is. He doesn't apologize, he doesn't say thank you, he doesn't say please.

"Aemond, what's going on?"

"I don't want to talk about it now. In fact, never. Not here."

You watch him carefully, and you nod as he moves to pour wine into a cup. You watch him gobble it up greedily, which is unlike him. So, you get close and move your hand from behind your back and say, "Anyway, I wasn't lying. I really spent four hours in the library...trying to decipher this."

You show him an old book, and the title catches his eye, cup held in midair. "Tales of the Dragonlords?" he asks frowning. "This is in High Valyrian."

"It is." you confirm as you move closer, and you steal his cup before saying, "Would you read it to me?" and you take a sip, of wine and courage.

He watches the liquid flow down your throat and then accepts the invitation, taking the book—the one he has read so many times he can recite it by heart. He opens it to the first page, but you say "No. Page 72."

There is a slight imperative tone in your tone of voice, and it thrills him, given how his eye glints under the candlelight. He drops it on the table, looking at you from head to toe, and says, "I'll read it to you later, sweet wife."

He steps closer but you back away saying, "Fine, then. I'll tell you what I understood so you can correct me or not." and at the same moment your own hands go up on your corset and you start pulling on the laces.

The gesture catches his eye like a moth to a flame and he stays silent as you pull all the laces and then slip off your dress, remaining in your underskirt. His gaze roams over you slowly, and with a soft smirk, he decides to play the game.

“Page 72, you said. How Dragonlords claimed Dragons.”

“Yes.”

"And why did it capture your interest? Do you wish to do it? Do you wish to claim a dragon?"

"I wish to conquer, not claim."

He comes closer and looks at you, breathing through his nose, restraining, always restraining, and then he's raising his hand to reach a lock of your hair falling on your shoulder, but you stop him, air as heavy as moss.

"The Valyrian sages say a dragonlord must surrender himself completely to the dragon. But it works both ways. The dragon must submit his will to their rider."

He looks at you without blinking, and you take his arms, guiding him closer until you turn and push him lightly on the bed. He sits and you slowly climb on his lap, knees caging his hips, heart is pounding in your throat like a hammer. You hear him taking a swift breath and pride pools in your bones because for once you have caught him off guard.

You can feel his crotch hardening by the moment, but the look on his face is not one of hunger or lust. It is pure and blessed devotion.

You wonder at the view, and your eyes roam on his face until...

"Can I take it off?"

There's no need to say what. His face goes hard as stone, eye looking away with discomfort, with shame.

"Please, Aemond." you whisper. "I want to see all of you. I want you to bare yourself to me as I did to you."

"It is not pleasant."

"I don't want pleasantness. I want you."

He stares at you for an eternal moment and then he caves.

A flash of sparkling blue catches you completely and you can do nothing but watch with lips parted, while he keeps his eye down.

You wrap an arm around his shoulders and lean your head against his to breathe one single word in his ear. "Gevie."

His arms are all around you, holding you so tight you might gasp for air. Instead you are smiling, breathing through his long silver hair. You are not sure if you aunt is right, if love is indeed a choice. You can't bring yourself to care because you are doing it already.

And then he's kissing you, seizing your tongue with his in a fierce consuming way. He slightly hikes up your hips, and his hand tries to slide between your legs, but you lace your fingers around his wrist, breaking the kiss with panted breath.

"No." you whisper, and he looks at you almost questioningly, mouth open and chest heaving.

"Lykirī."

His eye widens and you smile, secretly. "I know what it means now."

He smirks at this and does not miss the chance to be the ever diligent scholar. "But you said it wrong. The R is hard."

“Lykirī.” You say again, following his lesson, and in the same moment your hand leaves his wrist and goes down to his breeches. He dips his chin to look at it, at your hands unsure, and he too looks unsure.

“You don’t have to—“

“I want to.” You say, and your voice comes out firm and clear. “Please, Aemond. Let me…let me touch you.”

He realizes now that in all the times you have been lying together, you never managed to lay a hand on him. He likes to keep people at distance. Too many wrong hands have been on him. The Maesters’, inspecting, debating, healing without healing. That whore, taking what it was not hers to take, not yet.

But he wants you to touch him. He has dreamed of it, in any way a man could dream of a woman’s touch.

He looks at you for a moment, chest rising slowly, and then, without taking his eye off you, he pulls the laces of his breeches and guides your hand around his cock. You look down, exhaling a long breath at feeling his hard and hot flesh already pulsing.

He knows you don’t know how to do it, so his hands guide you at first, going slowly up and down, and the air comes out of his mouth slowly and labored. You look up at him, his eye is pitch black, lid growing heavy with pleasure, and your core clenches, desire pools in your belly and flows down.

He must hear the call of your body, because he releases your hand, still stroking him, and goes right between your legs. You gasp loudly, and he hums, delight dripping from his voice just as you are dripping on his fingers. He starts to pump his fingers and you can do nothing but moan, clutching his shoulders with your free hand, the other still around his cock, but the act is growing lazy, your mind can’t focus properly on what you are supposed to do.

“Listen.” he orders you, fingers moving faster and faster, and you do listen. Your soaked flesh coming undone at his scorching touch. “Who else has you like this?”

But this is a question he’s asking himself. Because no one else will ever have him bare like this.

“You. Just you.” you say hoarsely, eyes closing and hips rocking on their own accord.

“And who am I?” he whispers just as hoarsely, and yet his voice is like a whip on all your senses.

“My husband.” you cry, feeling the wave ready to drown you “Ñuha zaldrīzes.” My dragon.

You cannot care less about how you said it, because then your mouth falls open, nails digging into his shoulder while your trembling hips keep riding his fingers, clenching them like a vice.

Your head falls onward, leaning against his forehead, and you try to catch your breath. You watch his wet fingers go straight into his mouth while he looks at you, humming with pleasure. “You look so pretty like this.” he says with the ghost of a smile on his lips “I should fuck you in Throne Room with the whole court watching, so they know how pretty you are when you come for me.”

You laugh with your cheeks flushing, and he slides an arm around you, and you know he wants to pin you down on the bed and fuck you until you are muffling nonsense in the pillow. But this is not his game. This is yours, and even if you don’t know how to play, you will win.

“No.” you say, climbing down from his lap, and he looks at you with hunger and a tinge of thrilling curiosity. “It is my turn to claim.” You say with all the bravery you possess.

Not a moment later, you are going down on your knees.

Another small victory, because his eye widens as he had never done before, and you can see that this, the sight of you on your knees before him, is something he has been craving for, even dreamed of it.

His breathing is slow, and you are not even touching him.

You place yourself between his knees and you lean closer and closer, anxiety twisting your insides, but you want to do this. “Lykirī, nuha zaldrīzes. Surrender.” you take him into your hand, tugging slowly, and your lips linger on the tip, heart pounding in your ears and eyes fixed on him. “Lykirī.” You say one last time and then you are swallowing him.

He hisses loudly and his lips part, hands clutching the covers until his knuckles go white. He’s like burning metal inside your mouth—hot and hard. At first, you just taste him, running your tongue over the head, and he’s cursing under his breath. His hands twitch on the covers, restraining and restraining, but there’s no need. You take his hand while looking at him and you release it from your mouth to say “Teach me.”

It’s like you have just poured fire on more fire. His eye goes wild, he takes hold of your head and starts to guide you again, making your mouth engulf him once more and deep down to the base and then up to the tip again, filling the room with a wet gagging sound. You get the gist of what you’re supposed to do, so your head starts going up and down and up and down, and he actually moans for you, head falling back for just a moment before looking back, he can’t help but watch as you fiercely claim him.

You watch his chest heaving fast and your jaw is starting to hurt but you don't care, you are too absorbed by the view before you. You are too thrilled by the fact that, for once, you have made him speechless.

He's always so bold in the bedroom, so cruel in deciding when and how to give pleasure, and now he's utterly speechless. He can only curse without breath, and gasp and groan.

“Kelītīs.” he manages to say at one point, voice all husky and cracking. You don’t know that word, and you have no time to ask because in a blink, he’s slamming you onto the bed and he’s hiking up your skirt, but you get on your elbows pushing him on his back and climbing on him.

“I’m not done, valzȳrys.” you say feeling his hard length inflaming your core, so you lay your hips on it as firmly as possible. “I claimed, but I did not conquer.”

“You are fucking torturing me.” he points out, bucking against you.

“Conquests could last for centuries, dear husband. You above all should know that.”

“All I know now is that I need to fuck you.” he says placing both hands on the sheets to pull himself up.

“No, I will.” you promise, rocking your hips once more “This is my conquest, not yours.”

You keep rubbing your drenched core on his length until a sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead, and he's so hard he's leaking from the tip. "You are twisted, wife." he says with a dazed tone and you smile even if you can't take it anymore, but you rock some more, saying "I'm a quick study. And I'm learning from the best."

Finally, when you are so wet you are dripping on him, you raise just enough to slide his cock inside of you.

You gasp together and you brace on his shoulders to start moving. You both know you are not going to last long, so you start rocking your hips slowly, taking him to the hilt until you struggle for air.

“Move…” he orders but you just take the opposite road, slowing your hips in a delicious torturing way. “Do you know what else the Sages said? A rider must know their mount, feel their heat below them.”

But Aemond does not have a single drop of blood in his head right now to give you an answer, let alone play your game; he's just fire that burns and burns and burns and just like the Sages said, you can feel his heat, burning below and inside you. He grips your hips and starts to thrust inside you like the wild beast you are supposedly claiming, until you are moaning so loud your throat hurts.

“Yes—” he growls as you bounce on him “Just like that—you’re gripping me so well—fuck"

You both turn sloppy, a mess of sweaty limbs and teeth biting, clutching at each other with bruising grips, pulling at the roots of his hair when you’re about to fall from the highest sky.

"Come on, my sweet girl. Let go for me." he breathes into your mouth, forcing you to move even faster "Let go fro your dragon. Seal your conquest." And you do.

He follows right after, spilling inside while digging his teeth into your neck like fangs on a prey, muffling his loud groaning.

And you are smiling like a fool, a lovestruck fool, but most of all, a conqueror. 

Thank you so much for reading!! 💞💞

[carebearbussy]

𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙, 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨

ᥫ᭡ 𝙨𝙮𝙥𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨: 𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝… 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖𝙨 𝙟𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙤��𝙨𝙮 𝙨𝙠𝙮𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙪𝙩𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙩𝙧𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙚𝙮𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙪𝙥.

ᥫ᭡ 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙧𝙖! 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚! 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

ᥫ᭡ 𝙘𝙬: 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩, 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩, 𝙥 𝙞𝙣 𝙫, 𝙥*𝙨𝙨𝙮 𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩h (𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙙), 𝙛𝙪𝙡𝙡 𝙣𝙚𝙡𝙨𝙤𝙣, 𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨, 𝙘𝙪𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙨, 𝙚𝙙𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙣𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙨𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙟𝙤𝙗, 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙟𝙤𝙗 (𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙩 𝙚𝙣𝙙).

ᥫ᭡ 𝙬𝙘: 4.3𝙠 (𝙜𝙤𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮…)

𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

You were sooo tired.

Sukuna had woken you up at the crack of dawn, seemingly out of nowhere. He had apparently informed you about your early awakening, but you cannot recall such events from him. But you knew how he became when he was upset, you you sucked it up and got out of your comfortable bed, leaving behind its warmth, for what exactly?

Another one of Sukuna's meetings, where he would sit hours on end in his large throne, as he awaits an endless line of citizens, listening to every one of their requests. The throne room at the estate was massive in size, being able to house thousands of people on end. And in the middle of it all, was Sukuna himself, nicely sat in it, legs spread slightly with one hand holding his drowsy head. You on the other hand, were seated right on his lap, one of his lower hands holding you close by the stomach, making you squirm in his lap every once and a while. Your kimono draping down your legs, covering most of your body. You looked ethereal, as you became the center of attention very quickly due to your appearance.

A civilian stood up, as he walked the crimson red carpet up to the steps of the throne. With a skittish look on the mans face, he respectfully bowed to the floor of the stairs, hovering his hands over his forehead, making sure to not make any unnecessary peeking, somewhat aware of the notorious temper Lord Sukuna gets when somebody oversteps their place when it comes to you. With a slightly shaky voice, he spoke.

"My Lord, you see, my family is in desperate times at the moment. My wife has fallen under an unknown illness, and we have no way of telling whether she will survive or not. Please, it is with my greatest esteem, if you could bless my family."

You furrow your eyebrows as you hear his story. To Sukuna, he has no reaction over such ridiculous things, but to you? You become very sensitive to such things, as you try to hide your discomfort by ajusting yourself on Sukunas lap, making him ever so slightly groan. He side eyes, you, as he continues to talk with the man kneeling before him. "I do not think you are worthy of my blessings, tiresome human. You may take your leave now." He says sternly, not giving any second thought.

Besides the throne on your left, is Uraume, keeping watch and a handy count over everybody who comes in and out. On your left, is a group of butlers, ready to take orders at any given moment. They stood tall, wanting to thoroughly impress Lord Sukuna to the fullest. And it seemed as though one particular one had wanted to impress you even more. He was tall, not as tall as Sukuna, but still tall compared to you. His eyes were dull with need, as they eyed your frame up and down, silently admiring you through his vision. God, he wished it was him instead of Sukuna. If he had a woman like you sitting all pretty on his lap like that, thats all a man like him could ask for.

Meanwhile, the man cowering on the floor was left in shambles, disappointment filling his system as he hears the words of Lord Sukuna. He stays on the ground for a while, not moving out of sheer disbelief. But his moment to himself was cut short. "Lord Sukuna said move, lackey." Uraume had said with a flick of the wrist, causing the man to quickly get up and make his leave, not wanting to disrupt the dwindling peace in the throne room.

"The nerve of some people to request such deplorable things from me, it makes me laugh, truly." He says, laughing to himself, causing you to slightly bounce in his lap, not going unnoticed by the same butler ogling at you from behind. But Sukuna is faster. He never makes any indications that he knows somebody is looking at you, but he is well aware of his staring. Sukuna has superhuman senses from all directions, making it a point to protect you from harm. He brings you in tighter to his chest, as he rubs the skin on your thigh under your kimono, causing shivers to crawl up your spine.

He brings your head closer to his with one hand as he pushes against it, his mouth coming dangerously close to your ear, as you can feel his hot breath gently fan against your neck. "I'm sure you are completely oblivious to this, but there is a man looking at my woman. You will know who I am talking about once I let you go." he says, squinting his eyes in annoyance at the man he can feel lingering his eyes on you. He is blissfully unaware that Sukuna knows what he is doing. He truly has no clue what he has gotten himself into.

Not only have none of the other butlers informed him on Sukunas constant desire for you, but the other butlers take note of what he is doing, too scared to move from their current position to stop him. They are afraid that interfering meant death, because they know what is about to happen shortly after this whole ordeal is over.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

It was nice to relax after a while, you thought.

The meeting with the civilians had lasted hours, your intuition being correct. You had come so close to just resting your eyes during the whole thing, but the tight grip Sukuna had on your waist prevented you from doing so. You were exhausted to say the least, needing a nice, well deserved bath to soothe your nerves.

You step into the large dimmed bathhouse with two handmaidens, immediately being enticed by the warmth of the atmosphere. Steam seemed to sprout from all sides, making you feel drowsy. But you felt at ease. You stepped over to a large bath, as it was slowly filled with warm water by your handmaidens with pitchers. You sat by the bath, as you watched them fill it to the brim with warm water. Your toes hit the water, making you hum with contentment.

"I'm ready." You say, signaling for the ladies to help you into the bath. You slowly strip yourself of all of your clothes, your handmaidens helping you do so. One of them holds your used kimono, as another slides off your shoes and undergarments. As you are fully undressed, both of your hands were held out in front of you, as each of your handmaidens take hold of each one, helping you keep your balance as you enter inside. You close your eyes, being content with the temperature. As you ease yourself into the water, you think back at todays events.

You had also somewhat noticed the man staring at you, only after Sukuna had mentioned it, and once the event had come to a close. But it couldn't have been that bad, right? Sukuna had a tendency to overreact to things like this when it came to you. This must have been one of those cases, surely. Or maybe, he was correct to think this way. After all, the butler had been starring for what was considered too personal. You could not see him, due to you being seated facing forward. But it was evident that he was thinking about more than what meets the eye. But as you relaxed into your string of thoughts, you were externally interrupted.

A large commotion could be heard from outside of the bathhouse, making you flinch and startling you by natural reaction. You turn your head in the direction of the noise, realizing it was the sound of one of the sliding doors slamming open. The doors in the estate were made with heavy material, so it could only be opened with such brute force from somebody as strong as Sukuna. The only person being as strong as him, being himself, of course. You knew how Sukuna got when he got mad, and you did not want him to be unattended when he got like this.

Wasting no time, you got up out of the bath, not thinking to put on your clothes, but instead grabbing the large bath towel that was next to you in the tub, instead of the robe that was freshly ironed for you. With hurried steps, you almost slipped as you exited the tub, causing your handmaidens to go into safety mode. "My lady, please! You should wear proper attire, and i'm sure another butler can handle Lord Sukuna at this moment!" She says, reaching for the robe, trying to hand it to you. But you were quick to ignore her, as you help up the towel to your body with one hand, as you stepped outside in broad daylight.

And to your horror, you had wished you stayed inside.

With your own two eyes, you saw Sukuna in all of his glory, basking in the feeling of strangling the poor butler that decided to linger his eyes on you for too long. The mans hands were trying to claw away Sukunas much larger ones, but to no avail. The sound of the air being knocked out of the mans lungs rung throughout the openness of the estate. Sukuna looked at the man, as he held him high in the air with one hand. He rested the rest of his hands on his hips, clearly unpleased by his previous actions.

"Tsk, you're pathetic. Laying your puny eyes on whats mine? Has nobody taught you any manners? Foolish." He says, smirking through his reactions. His face was turning more of a purple hue by the minute, seeming like he could pass out at any minute. He looks over to Uraume, who is smiling with him through the servants pain. "Yes, my lord, he made a very large mistake." Uraume says, agreeing. "Hm... what if I just..." He says, teasingly tightening his grip on the mans neck, as a loud 'pop' can be heard. This only amused Sukuna further, pushing himself to do more.

As you stood there watching in pure shock while resting your body on a wooden post, you really couldn't stand to see it any longer. You had to do something. You walked along the wooden floorboards of the foyer, trying not to make nay sound, but you fail miserably. A painfully loud 'creek' is heard from your direction, causing everybody in your vicinity to advert their attention towards you. You felt yourself grow how in embarrassment, realizing what you were wearing was highly inappropriate. Everybody except for the butler seemed unnafected, but on the inside, Sukuna was fuming.

So you're trying to show off now? He had seen your half naked body loads of times, but in front of another man? You were really pushing it at this point. His nose scrunches, as his eyebrows furrow in irritation. He eyes you up and down, not wasting any time before dropping the man before him, not taking into consideration his safety whatsoever. He walks towards you, each step making you more jittery than the next.

"Kuna, what are you doing to that poor man-!" You say, calling out to him as you stand on the foyer, almost standing at the same height as him, but still having to look up as he stood in front of you. "What the hell do you think you're wearing, woman?" He says, adding fuel to the fire, and completely disregarding the fact that he had just strangled a man. You look at him with wide eyes, as you scoff to yourself, trying to peek over his shoulder to get a better look of the man, but to no avail due to his tall stature. "That's not what's important right now, now tell me what happened!" You say, still searching for answers.

"Yes it is, do not make me ask twice. Go put some clothes on before anybody sees you in such a state." He says, starring daggers at your body. But you aren't focused on that, but instead on what was happening to the butler, who was clutching his bruised throat for dear life, making quick breaths in and out as he pants on the stone floor. Its uncomfortable to watch, but Uraume and Sukuna don't seem to care at all. You go to move past Sukuna, wanting to make sure the dying man on the floor was alright.

As you walk to where the man was, he instinctively tried to move away from you, not wanting to test Lord Sukuna's patience any further than he already has. But he finds himself unable to do anything other than stay still, as he watched the girl come closer to him by the second. Sukuna would let you have your moment, before he would decide how to penalize you for acting out of line.

You knelt down in front of the man, still holding up the towel wrapping your body. You looked at him with so much care, something Sukuna was selfish when it came down to it. "Hey, it's okay..." You say, reaching your free hand out to rub his back, hoping to soothe some of his pain. You knew what you were doing would be overstepping, but in the moment it really didn't matter. It seemed to work, as you noticed his breathing become ever so slightly more sturdy as you stood there. You smiled down on him by natural reaction, forgetting that a fuming monster of a man was watching this all unfold behind you.

This didn't last any longer, as Sukuna made heavy steps towards the two of you, as Uraume observed from afar. But you are too focused on helping the butler get back to his feet, as you attempt to try and hold him up with one hand. But all the sudden, your free hand that was once carrying the butler, now carried nothing, as Sukuna snatched your wrist into his tight clutch. This made you wince in shock, completely diverting your attention towards Sukuna. His eyes squinted as he looked at you, jealousy taking over his system once more.

"First you have men looking at you, then you walk outside practically naked, and now you are trying to seduce another man? I think I need to teach somebody a lesson." He says, forcibly bringing you up by the thighs, carrying you so your chests are pressed together. You wrap your arms around Sukunas neck, as you squeel from the shock of being carried so abruptly. You kick your feet as Sukunas hands lock underneath your thighs, making sure to not move the slipping towel. His hold on you bounce ever so slightly. "How was that flirting-"

"And you're also going to learn how to not talk back to those above you."

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"Please, m' sorry-"

You said, your eyes lolling back into your skull. It had been roughly an hour after Sukuna had brought you back to his quarters, and he planned on using this time wisely.

You were propped up nicely on the cozy comforters on the bed, but the comfort was far gone, with Sukuna edging you for what seemed like forever. It was getting tiring, as you chased upon a non existent race, which was your orgasm. Somehow, Sukuna always knew whenever you were about to release, having a sixth sense embedded in his body dedicated to you. His upper arms hooked under your upper thighs, his lower hands holding your hips up to maneuver you how he pleases.

This position he had kept you in made you feel practically numb, bringing you speechless. Your mouth squeezed shut from the pressure of his tongue secured onto your clit. He latched his lips, sucking on the bud, bringing you too much pleasure that you can handle at once.

"F-fuck, please let me come 'Kuna!" You say, barely able to look him in the eyes, hell, he wasn't even letting you touch him, let alone yourself. But this in his words, was to be deserved. "Tsk, acting like such a whore today, arent you?" He says, taking a pause in his antics, before giving your pussy some nice, playful slaps with his upper hand, making your hips jolt up, your eyes going wide as you yelp out. "Sensitive for your king, aren't we?"

He resumes his assault on your cunt, making sure to linger at your reactions. What he wants most, is a reaction out of you. And a reaction he is getting. You feel your legs start to tremble under his constant sucking, as you feel your body pulse every time he hits a nerve. You can't help the whimpers that fall from your mouth, from the combination of ungranted release, and the tingling due to the numbing sensation from how long he had been toying with you. But you could tell Sukuna was enjoying it. But you needed to cum, and soon. You felt as if you were going to explode if you didn't, and there was really nothing you could do to stop him.

The grip on his thighs tighten, as he soon realizes you are close to your release again, which seemed to pattern the last three? six? ten times? You couldn't keep track at this point the amount of times he had edged you, especially the way he swishes his head in the crevices of your folds, eating you out like a starved man deprived of nutrients. He blew into your wetness, causing waves of vibration to be loud enough to make a noise, almost sending you over the edge, before Sukuna halts his movements, then looking up at you. Your face was red, sweat trickling down every inch of your body. You felt hot, inside and out. Why did he have to be so difficult?

"Noooo, please just let me cum! I'll be good!" You plead, whining about your missed orgasm. You fiddled your hands above your stomach, eager to grip his silky pink hair, reaching out to it by instinct. But he notices this, and stop you by grabbing you by the wrist. "Ah ah ah, you have to wait a bit, brat. I'm not sure you quite deserve your reward." He says, crushing your high hopes in one sentence. You practically had tears in your eyes from how frustrated you were. "Beg for what you wish."

You shut your eyes, a loud exhale from your nose being heard. You looked down at him, still between your legs. He starts running his lengthy fingers along your slick, squishing your puffy folds each between his index and thumbs. You look away, not wanting to look him in the eyes at the thought of how pathetic you looked. You open your mouth, trying to find the right words for your tireless begging.

"Please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to try to entice anybody, I was just worried, but that has nothing to do with this, please 'Kuna!" You say, looking down at him with glossy eyes, filled with need, You try to close your legs out of sheer shyness, but he stops you with two firm hands. He rewards you with a couple particularly harsh pussy slaps, making you jolt once more as he watches the way your hips buck upwards. He stays in his current position for a while, contemplating his decision.

He gets up from the edge of the bed, unhooking his arms as he towers over your resting form. You watch him slowly get closer to your body, crawling up the bed while looking at your face. He finds himself enticed by your neck, as he watches you extend it to the other side to hide your face. But that only shows off a noble part of your supple body that he adores. You peek up at him, as his face is mere inches away from yours. But he decides to attack your neck, going in like a moth to a flame. Sucking on the soft skin of your neck, he creates a multitude of different bruising, further marking you. Yeah, you were going to have a hard time trying to cover this up.

Coating your neck in his thick saliva, you whimper at the feeling of his thick fangs sinking ever so slightly into your neck. You try to grab onto his hair, but he stops you once more, pinning your hand to the bed with one of his upper hands, his lower hands reaching down to rub rough circles on your sensitive bud. You felt yourself bring a plethora of different emotions to yourself, no knowing what part of your body to focus on. You lifted your head back as a natural reaction, letting Sukuna fully dwarf you on the bed, as well as accidentally grant him full access to your neck. You try to close your legs, bringing your knees to your stomach, but his girthy hands keep them plied open.

He lets go of your nape with a 'pop', as he slowly pulls away, basking in the sight of his marks on your nimble skin. You are left panting, the combination of pain and pleasure seeping into you. He truly didn't mean to go too far, but he cant help it when it comes to you.

"Y'know, I was planning on having my fun with you until I tire, but since you asked oh so nicely, and the way you look right now, god, I think you're ready."

At his words, you felt a smile of relief hit your face, happy that after all this time, he is finally giving in. He felt his cock throb with precum, but one thing Sukuna is good at, is gaslighting you. He looks at you with a sinister smile, tilting his head as he moves his robe off of his body, pointing down at his pulsing length through his pants. "You see this brat? You did this. This is all your fault, and I know how you can fix it." He says, following with a loud sigh.

With one swift movement, he tugs off his undergarments. Your face contorts into that of surprise, being shocked every single time without fail whenever you see his two lengthy cocks, proudly pulsating against your thigh. You know you'll be able to take it, but with the kind of mood he is in right now, you are unsure. Sukuna is a very unpredictable man, after all. But one thing you were not expecting, was for him to be the one sitting up. His chest hit your back, as his legs resting on the floor at the edge of the bed for leverage. His lower arms held your hips up nicely, his upper arms hooking under your knees.

With another swift movement, no prep involved, he slipped inside of you with his bottom cock, his top one sliding against your pubic area. You moan out upon his arrival inside you, unprepared for the sheer size he was. His teeth connected to your shoulder as he slouched down to accommodate your height. "Wait-" You said, but were interrupted as he began to move at a moderate pace, as you sucked him in and out of your gummy walls repeatedly.

Wanton moans threatened to come out every second, as he plunged himself deeper into you, smacking his hips against yours as he did all of the work. You felt like you were floating, as you were being used like a ragdoll for Sukuna's pleasure. "Shit, just sucking me in like a vice, arent'cha? Are you gonna be a good little whore? You adore your kings cock that much?" He said, finding it amusing how your body reacts to his treatment. "Look down woman, theres something else there besides just the one inside you." He says, signaling to his free cock that was sliding against your lower stomach.

"Kuna, I can feel it in my-" "Your tummy? I know, you can handle it, it'll all be worth it. Now pay attention." He says, shutting you up once more. It was hard to focus, the bouncing of your body paired with the tight position Sukuna had kept you in being key factors. You slowly reach down with your right hand, cupping his free cock in your now wet hands, soaking them in pre cum. The squelching of the wetness of his cock thrusting in your hand, his hips and your pussy smacking against each other, and the sounds of your uncontrollable moans filled the room.

"You wish it was that pesky butlers cock in your tight, pretty hand, huh? Well i've got news for you, he is nothing compared to me. I shouldn't even be giving him a second thought, but thats what happens when you are in the picture."

You lazied your head on his bicep, trying to gain leverage on yourself. You were sooooo close. "What if I just..." He said, hitting the spot inside you that only he knows, repeatedly driving against the sweet ridge that sits nicely in your canal, thus almost sending you over the edge. "F-fuck! Right there-, holy-! I'm about to-"

But he stops everything, seemingly placing your world at an everlasting halt. That was to be your most intense orgasm of the night, but he ruined it. You were devastated, to the point where you tried moving yourself again, but the grip he had on you prevented you from doing so. You let out a loud sigh, tired of your release being denied.

"But you said you would let me, you said-!"

"Aww, whats wrong? You thought you would get it that easily? Now get on those knees of yours and put yourself to use, show me that you are truly sorry, brat."

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[birthanon]

Birth Ordinance

The following story contains: explicit birth, birth denial, twin birth, and enough information about Mormon temples they'd be upset with me. But hey, it was my experience too and I have every right to it. Some creative liberties were taken with the temple stuff. It's my first attempt at sharing something like this. So I'm happy to get feedback.

Story behind cut:

Mariah groaned, reaching down and wrapping around her large stomach as the car went over a bump and into the Mormon Temple’s parking lot. Her husband, Mathew, glanced over. 

“Almost there, honey,” he said. “Just keep breathing, and soon God will bless us with a pair of new children.”

The latest contraction eased, and Mariah eased back into her seat, breathing hard as her stomach visibly relaxed under her hand. The new prophet, President Oaks, had revealed that there was a new covenant and ritual that women had to participate in during the birth of their children. It was still new enough Mariah didn’t know anyone who had participated in it, but the prophet spoke for god so she and her family would obey. Surely a birth (or two) in God’s house surrounded by holy men would be far more blessed than a birth in a hospital surrounded by doctors who had been corrupted by fake-science like vaccines, gender ideology, dinosaurs, and other such satanic lies.

The car came to a stop, and Mathew got out, dressed in his nice suit. Then he came around and opened the door for Mariah. As she stood, another contraction seized her. She clutched the door handle and moaned through the pain, curling in on her stomach instinctively. 

“Come on, hon,” Mathew said, grabbing her hand. “We’re gonna be late.” Then he pulled, dragging her up out of the car with zero warning.

Mariah stumbled, still mid-contraction. Her back screamed as it took on the weight of her twins. Mathew managed to catch her, as her legs gave out, keeping her from face planting in the temple parking lot. 

“Woah careful there,” Mathew said, smiling, completely oblivious. He did however stay long enough for the contraction to end and for Mariah to get her footing back. The shoes she wore had a slight heel to them. She thought it wouldn’t matter too much, and she didn’t have anything completely flat that was nice enough for the temple, but the way her hips ached, she already fiercely regretted her choice. Even more so when she looked up and saw just how far away the temple was. Her husband had parked in the furthest parking stall from the main doors. 

“Go ahead and start walking,” Mathew said, “I’ll grab our temple bags.”

With a sigh, Mariah began the trek, pressing one hand to her back to counteract the growing pain there. Everything felt strange down below, both open and tight at once, her hips oddly shaky, which led to a distinct waddle in her walk. It took almost no time at all for Mathew to catch up to her, both temple bags slung over his shoulder. 

They made it to the temple doors without further issue, the massive white building standing out starkly against the blue sky, stain glass windows gleaming. A patron exiting opened the door for them, smiling and greeting them. Then their eyes strayed to Mariah’s belly. “Congratulations,” the man said. “Are you excited about the new revelation from our prophet?”

“We are so lucky to be some of the first to experience it,” Mathew replied, proudly resting his hand on Mariah’s belly. 

Mariah didn’t say anything, anxiety twisting in her chest. She just wished she knew what she was getting into. Neither man noticed her silence however, and exchange a few more quick pleasantries before they continued inside. 

Once inside, both Mathew and Mariah produced their temple recommends from their wallets, then Mariah produced her special recommend for a live ordinance, given to her after extensive interviews with both her bishop and her stake president to prove she was worthy. Another contraction came as they checked over her paperwork. She grabbed onto the desk, circling her hips and breathing hard, feeling the pressure increase.

“Has your water broken yet?” the man at the desk asked.

Mariah shook her head, unable to say much else in the midst of the contraction.

Mathew answered for her. “She’s been having regular contractions for the past two hours, one minute on, four minutes off. We’ve come as instructed. And we called ahead.”

“Yes, yes,” the desk worker said, then he handed her a little piece of paper and a pin. “We’ve got your guide waiting for you. Just put this on and head into the main room. She’ll meet you inside.”

Gratefully, Mariah took the paper and pinned it onto her dress with shaking hands, then she and Mathew headed past the white wall of the reception area and into the main temple area. Green plants and pastel green and gold couches lined the walls and filled the center space of the area. A woman and man saw her name tag and came over, shaking both Mathew and Mariah’s hand, and introducing themselves as Sister and Brother Wallace. 

Mathew handed Mariah her temple bag, and then was swept away to the men’s changing room by Brother Wallace, leaving Mariah with Sister Wallace, who led her to the other side of the foyer where the sister’s dressing room was. 

“We’ve already set aside one of the larger dressing rooms for you,” Sister Wallace said. “There will be a white jumpsuit in there. Put it on, just like if you were getting ready for a baptism for the dead. Then I’ll take you into an instructional room for a short video.”

Mariah nodded, and entered into her dressing room. Though it was definitely larger than the normal stalls, it was still small, barely enough room for her to move around with her massive stomach. She had just enough to to place her bag on a small wooden bench that protruded from the metal doors before another  contraction hit. She hissed and groaned, working through it. Once it was through, she awkwardly reached down grabbed the hem of her dress which was significantly closer to her fingers than it would have been pre pregnancy, and dragged it up over her massive belly. It was a bit of a struggle, but soon it was off. Next went her wired bra and her white pregnancy garments, which were soaked with sweat. 

Not caring much, she threw the clothes and her old shoes in a locker, then began the momentous task of putting on the silky zip-up garments which barely fit over her massive belly, the tiny sports bra that did very little to contain her leaking breasts, and a large zip up jumper than definitely was not made for a pregnant woman. She barely got the zipper up half her chest, leaving the white undergarments visible. As she sat down to put on the grippy socks, breathing heavily from the effort of changing clothes, another contraction took her she groaned, practically collapsing the rest of the way onto the little wooden bench. The unyielding solidness pressed against her privates which felt much more exposed in the tight white jumpsuit, zipper straining. 

Sister Wallace knocked midway through the contraction, asking if she needed any help. Once the contraction released her, Mariah leaned over awkwardly and undid the latch. No way she was getting on those stupid socks without help, not in her condition. Wallace helped her easily enough, getting the soaks on her swollen feet, then helped her up. 

The instruction room wasn’t far, and she was sat down in a cushy chair, Wallace at her side, and a video of the prophet showed up. “In order to ensure our families our celestial, God has revealed a plan for his children. As the child is being birthed, the mother will go through each of the ordinances on the path to the celestial kingdom, doing them in proxy for their child. That way, no matter what path the child takes in life, they will already have their work done for them. It is like baptisms for the dead, but for those who have not yet come into this world.”

Mariah stared as yet another contraction hit, the pressure building. The heavy ball of her first child’s head sitting in her hips. All the ordinances? But the baby was coming soon, and that would take hours!

“Best get a move on then, right?” the sister said.

The elevator was broken, so they had to take the stairs down to the font. Midway down another contraction hit, and Mariah was caught with legs on separate stairs, clinging to the bronze railing for dear life as the pressure mounted, and mounted and mounted. She needed to push, she realized suddenly. But no, that couldn’t be right. Her water hadn’t broken yet. And she had to get through these ordinances so her children would make it to heaven with her!

Mariah gasped in relief as the wave of pain eased away. Already her white suit was near-see through with sweat in some areas. But Wallace didn’t seem to mind, she just grabbed Mariah’s arm and helped her hobble awkwardly down the rest of the stairs, her legs forced just a bit further apart than they had been earlier.

Teens waiting to be baptized stared openly as Mariah hobbled down the hall, one hand on her back, the other trying to support her massive twin stomach. They walked into the main font, a white pool on top of twelve golden oxen, the air heavy with the scent of chlorine, then waited for the teen who was currently being dunked to finish their set of baptisms. Mathew was already waiting on the other side, dressed in a similar white jumpsuit. He smiled and waved, his escort at his side as well. Once the teen finished, him and his adult baptizer exited the font and were handed fluffy white towels, then Mariah and Mathew entered. 

The water was warm, a welcome relief to her straining body, and Mariah couldn’t help but groan in relief as Mathew walked her to the center of the pool. He took her wrist in his hand, holding her hand up by her face, then held his right hand to a square behind her. “Sister Johnson,” he prayed. “Having been commissioned by Jesus Christ, I baptize you for and behalf of, Nephi Johnson, who is not yet born, in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost, Amen.”

In the midst of his prayer, another contraction wrapped its way around her belly. As he put his hand to her back and pressed her down into the water, the pain and pressure mounted. She tried to scream with the pain, but water flooded into her mouth. Down, down, deeper into the water, as her husband tried to get her whole massive body completely submerged. Then she was up again, spitting up water, ears ringing, barely aware her husband was saying the prayer again, until she was plunged unsuspectingly back into the water. 

As her knees bent, something popped inside her, and the pressure was gone. She came back up spluttering, wiped away the stinging chlorine from her eyes and stared down at the red tendrils spread from her into the holy water. 

She blushed, but Mathew didn’t seem to notice. He pulled her to him instead, then helped her back out of the font. The stairs were slippery. A towel was wrapped around her as the cool air made her tremble in her wet clothes. 

Then she found herself in a shower, her legs spread, panting, struggling to get her white jumpsuit off while the shower spread the chlorine off of her. She managed to get the zipper undone with shaking hands, but she couldn’t get the fabric off her hips without closing her legs, and that just didn’t seem possible. Groaning with the effort, she put her legs together despite her body screaming at her, and pushed the suit down. Then came the too small bra, which clung to her chest, and then the zip up garments, which present similar problems. Once they were down around her feet, she eased down, groaning as her necked butt rested on the plastic shower seat, to try and kick her clothes off the rest of the way. 

As she curled forward to try and get them off, another contraction struck. She groaned panting, trying to spread her legs to give the baby’s massive head room, but couldn’t. Her feet were caught by the restrictive material bound around them. She panicked, reaching blindly downward, kicking frantically, trying to get a leg free, because she needed her legs free. 

Finally a leg slipped free, and she eagerly spread her legs, pushing hard as the contraction ebbed, thankful for the warmth of the shower water dripping over her. Perhaps I should just stay and birth in here, she thought as the water cleansed her sweat. But no, she had to follow through. Had to make sure her children were saved.

Heaving herself to her feet she grabbed her towel from her hook, did her best to dry herself off, then tried to wrap it around her. It was made for teenagers, so it wasn’t the best modesty shield for a full grown, very pregnant woman, but she got the important parts covered. Barely. 

Sister Wallace met her outside the shower, all smiles, and handed her a white poncho. “This is a shield,” she said. “We’ve brought it back for innititories, go ahead and put it on.”

On the plus side, it was just a giant rectangle with a hole in the head, incredibly easy to put on compared to the earlier clothes, on the other hand, Mariah was left nearly completely exposed, the fabric hanging down only to mid-thigh in the front because of her massive belly, and left completely open on the sides. 

Those attired, with shaking legs, she was led into a room and told to sit down in a chair. Mathew and Brother Wallace awaited her, they placed their hands on her head as another contraction began and began the confirmation prayer. Mariah tried not to moan as her legs spread apart, her massive belly sinking between them, covering her parts as her clothes seemed to do very little of that. She couldn’t help but push, and felt the massive baby within move further down. The contraction let up, then another came, and she pushed with it again, trying to stay quite so she wouldn’t disrupt the prayer. 

Gosh, the baby was right there, right between her legs. It needed to be born. But she’d been grabbed by the arm and yanked to her feet before she could fully process the change. “Hurry now,” Sister Wallace said.

Practically naked, she was led through the temple, and back to the stairs. “No,” she moaned, leaning forward as another contraction started and she felt her nethers begin to sting. Her hand shot to her pussy, although she wasn’t sure if her intention was to support the baby or hold it in. 

The contraction ended before she had to make up her mind, the stinging easing as the baby slipped back inside. 

“It’s coming,” Mariah moaned.

Sister Wallace frowned. “Hold it in, or it will never be able to be in the celestial kingdom with you.”

Nodding, Mariah steeled herself, staring up at the spiral staircase. She’d do this.

Up and up she went, one stair at a time. Each time her leg went up and separated to reach the next step, she could feel the sting of the baby settling against her holds, then she’d bring her feet together and the stinging would ease. One contraction stopped her midway up, and she breathed hard. Do not push, do not push, she chanted to herself, as she pressed her hand against the head, supporting it, keeping it inside.

The top of the stairs opened to the women’s locker room, and inside that the initiatory. Another sister met her inside a curtain and told her to sit in the small waiting chair. Wish shaking legs, she sat, purposely tilting her pelvis so the chair put counter pressure on her baby, keeping it inside. Her hand when she finally pulled it away, was wet.

“Sister, having authority, I wash you preparatory to receiving your anointings for and behalf of Nephi Johnson, who is yet to be born, that youmay become clean from the sins of this generation,” the sister in this room said. Then with wet hands she placed her hand on Mariah’s head, blessing it, then her ears, then her eyes, then her nose, then her lips. A strange game of reverse head, shoulders knees and toes, each body part its own blessing. 

“Your neck, that it may bear up your head properly,” the woman said, then she reached down inside the shield, resting her cold wet hands on Mariah’s shoulders. “Your shoulders that they may bear up the burdens that shall be placed thereon.” Then the hands moved further down, onto her back, then they slipped and rested on Mariah’s ample, aching breast, blessed to be a receptacle of pure and virtuous principles. 

A contraction came as the hands rested on her stomach, and she zoned out, focusing on putting her weight against the head of the baby, keeping it inside as she tried and failed to not push. The hands were back on her contracting stomach, blessing her loins that “they may be fruitful and multiply and replenish the earth, that you might have joy in your posterity.” It was all so much. She needed to give birth, she needed them to stop touching her.

She tilted her hips, lifting them up from the chair, and pushed. The crown grew. Her lips stung. Then another set of hands rested on her head and shoved her down. The growing crown hit the chair and was shoved back into her. She screamed as the second officiant sealed the blessings of the washing upon her.

Her ears rang through the next prayer, her body lost in the need to push. But then the touching started up again, though this time instead of cold water, it was slick oil. The anointing, preparatory to becoming a king and a high priest unto God. 

Slick oil open her head, nose, her eyes, her neck, her breast, her back, her stomach, her loins, her feet. The hands lingered on her massive belly, caressing it, slathering it in slick oil. 

Her body, frustrated with the denial, initiated another contraction. It seemed stronger than the others, desperate. And Mariah didn’t even try to stop it this time. As the hands rested on her head to seal the anointing upon her, she pushed. But she couldn’t get off the chair, couldn’t get it to move, the hands held her steady, pushing her down into the chair. A whine escaped her as the contraction ended and the baby remained just there. 

Instructions were given, about the garments to wear, and then a new name was placed upon Nephi, though he hadn’t even officially received his first name. 

It was over, finally. She could move on to the next step. Except—

It started over again, with the blessing. With the wet touching. Twins. She was having twins. She had to do everything twice. She gave in to the touching, groaning as the hands caressed her breasts and belly with both water and oil a second time. The touch turning from foreign to comforting as she searched for anything grounding, anything positive to help her through this.

Three contractions later, the babies still safely within, the initiatory was over. Mariah stood from the chair, legs spread wide to accommodate the head which lurched forward as soon as she stood. She barely wobbled out of the room, catching Sister Wallace’s shoulders to stead herself and instantly crouching and barring down.

The head eased forward, the stinging increased. The head was massive. Twins were supposed to be small. How was she supposed to get this out?

Then the contraction eased and the head went back inside, leaving her panting and sweaty, but with no progress to show for her efforts.

“Oh dear,” Sister Wallace said. “You seem quite far along. Don’t worry. I’ll help you get dressed for the next step. I’ll be with you each step of the way.”

Then Mariah was forced to walk the short way to the dressing room, gasping for breath, feeling the weight of the head between her thighs, her hips protesting the constant movement while being spread so far apart.

“We have special garments to help in situations like this,” Sister Wallace said. “Step in.”

Blind with pain, Mariah managed to get a foot up, then the next one as Sister Wallace pulled on some sort of white undergarment. It was a bit of a wrestle, but finally it was on, tight as can be and pure white, nestled just under her belly. Mariah paid very little attention as Sister Wallace put on her white temple dress, her long white socks, and white shoes, focusing on not passing out or throwing up from the pain. 

“You’ve just got the endowment left,” Sister Wallace said, patting her on the shoulder. 

If the endowment ceremony wasn’t two hours long, if she didn’t have to do it twice, that would have been more reassuring.

At least she didn’t have to climb another stairs, as she was led into the endowment room, women on one side, men on the other, the seats full except the one at the front nearest the white alter that sat in the front of the room, a man standing behind it, ready to officiate.

Mathew sat in the seat closest to the alter on the men’s side of the aisle.

They were to be the representative couple. No. That meant standing up and kneeling and. . . gosh, how was this possible? Why would god ask this of her? No. Obedience. It was a test of obedience. To prove she and her family deserved the blessings. She would do it. She would prove she was strong enough.

With Sister Wallace's help, she waddled down the aisle, legs spread, crotch stinging, and settled into the front seat. Instructions sounded on the speaker, then the movie began. It was a movie she’d seen hundreds of times, about the creation of the world and Adam and Eve, so she quickly lost herself in the pain of the contractions. As each one came, she tried not to push, breathing through it as the head pushed through her tender folds, then eased back in as the contraction ended, too big to get all the way through or stay out without her help.

She was jerked from her pained breathing and the rhythm of the heading coming in and out, by a tap on her shoulder. Sister Wallace sat beside her, pointing toward the altar where Mathew waited, the rest of the audience waiting impatiently, staring at her.

With a groan she eased herself to her feet, stumbled the few steps to the altar, and kneeled beside her husband. There she promised the officiant, who was standing in for God, that she would obey Adam (Mathew)’s law so long as he obeyed the Father’s.

Kneeling hurt her knees, and her huge stomach pressed into the altar. She had a skirt of fig leaves on under her belly, but she didn’t remember putting it on. Sister Wallace must have done it earlier. A contraction came as she kneeled, and with legs forced apart and with gravity helping, the baby came down. She couldn’t help but push, and gasped as the head shot out further than it had yet. Agony tore through her pussy and she couldn’t help but let out a gasp, barely muffling the full scream of pain that surged from her throat. 

As soon as the contraction ended, however, the massive head began going back inside. The baby kicked, the feeling was wrong. Revulsion and agony surged through her body, and she tried to catch it, engaging her core muscles, stopping the baby in its tracks. There was pressure, something pushing back against the baby. As she slowly stood from the alter and headed back to her seat, the baby’s head brushing the inside of her thighs, she lost the push. The baby eased back inside her all the way. Tears filled her eyes. 

She would have sunk to the floor right there in pain and despair, but Sister Wallace caught her and brought her back to her seat. “Don’t worry,” she whispered in Mariah’s ears. “Those special garments will keep that baby in, no matter how hard you push. It will be saved.”

The next contraction brought the baby to a full crown, then the garments immediately began pushing it back in once the pressure released. Desperately, Mariah kept pushing, trying to keep the head there so she wouldn’t have to experience the agony of it returning. But eventually, she had to breathe, giving up the fight. Nausea filling her chest and throat.

She had to stand again, to put on a hat and robe and other holy emblems. Then again to kneel at the altar. Then the altar again. The third time, as she knelt the baby’s head completely popped out, slipping off to one leg of the garment. As she stood, her cheeks red with embarrassment and exhaustion, the head pressed against her leg. She felt it as she walked, bowlegged back to her seat, but before she could sit down, Sister Wallace caught her arm.

Right. It was time to go up the stairs to the terrestrial room. Each step was agony, the shoulders shifting in her hip, her legs spread awkwardly around the head, which touched her thighs. A line of people waited behind her awkward shuffling, impatient. When a contraction hit, Sister Wallace kept pulling her up the stairs, not giving her time to push. 

Her legs shook, each step torture, then they were at the top, and she was being pushed into a seat again. Sister Wallace frowned at her, and reached subtly under her dress as the rest of the people found their seats. Her hand slipped to the baby’s head that had somehow escaped the restrictive garment. 

In a horrible flash, Mariah knew what was coming. “Please, don’t” she whispered. “Please.”

“We have to save your baby,” Sister Wallace responded, then her hand pressed on the babies head, forcing it inside.

Mariah opened her mouth to scream, but Sister Wallace’s other hand grabbed her jaw and forced her mouth closed. “This is a holy place,” she reminded Mariah. “You must be quiet.”

More standing and kneeling and contractions. Endless pain. Torture of another kind. She needed to push. Needed to give birth. How could she play Mother Even for this long, making covenants for her, and yet not be allowed to give birth? 

The prayer circle finally came, the last bit until the end. Mathew grabbed her arm, and hauled her to her feet. Her legs trembled, the world swirled. “I can’t,” she whispered.

“This is for our babies,” Mathew said. “Please?”

Before she could say no, but how could she when she’d just promised God she’d obey him?, she was dragged to the front of the circle. The officiant said a prayer, she repeated what she said with the others in the circle, her legs spread awkwardly, the baby’s full crown bulging against the worn garments. Agony.

Then she was standing against the veil, making the tokens, with Sister Wallace whispering the right answers in her ears. She normally had these memorized, but she had no more brain power, no awareness except for the bulge in her pants and the desperate need to birth. Finally, it was over, she was through the veil.

“Very good,” Sister Wallace said, “just one more time through the endowment.”

“No,” Mariah begged, falling to her knees. “Please, I need to give birth. Please. To one of them. At least.”

Sister Wallace hesitated, then nodded. She reached out and pulled Mariah to her feet, in through the celestial room with its giant mirrors and massive crystal chandelier, then off to a small room to the side. It was all white, a single altar in the center. 

Sister Wallace knelt down, under Mariah’s skirt, fumbling with the tight garment bottom. “You must push your legs together to get this off,” she said.

But the baby’s head was there, fully crowned. Her legs weren’t going anywhere. “I can’t,” Mariah whined.

“I’ll help.” Then once again, the worst feeling of her life, the baby’s head being shoved back in. Mariah did vomit then, falling to her knees, vision blanking. She woke up sprawled over the altar, her baby’s head in her pussy, the garment bottom’s finally, blissfully off.

“Push,” Sister Wallace ordered. “Quickly, the next endowment session is starting soon. Your husband is waiting.”

Exhausted, but relieved, she pushed. The head shot out, and she screamed at the sudden shift despite herself. Gasping for breath, she clung to the side of the altar, her fingers digging into the cushions to keep herself upright on her trembling legs. An agonizing few minutes of breathing as the shoulders turned, then more pushing, the first shoulder popped out, stretching her even more.

Big, so big. Mariah shifted, awkwardly on her knees forcing them further apart to make room for the second shoulder, then with a final massive push and gush of fluids, the baby fell from her, into the waiting hands of Sister Wallace.

Or no, another Sister in white had entered at some point. She came in, cut the cord, washed up the baby, while Sister Wallace was doing something down there. Mariah didn’t quite care what. She watched her baby, Nephi, as he cried, wrapped in a blanket, still smeared with unmentionables, but beautiful anyway. Perfect. And promised to her forever, no matter what he did.

Another contraction distracted Mariah from that holy moment. She groaned, feeling the next baby pressing down on her worn insides, already pushing through her dilated cervix.

Then something snapped shut around her waist and her eyes shot open. Mariah stared in betrayal at Sister Wallace as she stood back up and held a dainty hand to Mariah. The restrictive, birthing-proof garments were back on. “Come on then, you must save the other one still.”

“No, please. I can’t.” Mariah didn’t even think she could stand. Even kneeling was too much. 

“You must, for your child. Come, you won’t be the witness couple this time. You can just sit through it.”

She had to drag Mariah to her feet. Mariah leaned on Sister Wallace heavily as they walked back down the halls, back to the first endowment room, the telestial room, painted with mountains and animals a plenty. Mathew waved at Mariah from where he sat, giving her a thumbs up.

The story of creation and Adam and Even droned on as the second baby dropped. It was moving much slower than before, the cramps having shifted to Mariah’s back more than her front. She leaned against the seat back, desperately seeking counter pressure as she pushed with each contraction. But it was getting harder and harder to do so.

Her body ached. Her head spun. She was so tired.  Robotically, she obeyed the instructions from Sister Wallace to get through the session. By the time they needed to switch rooms, the second baby, the daughter presumably, was low again. This birth felt different somehow. Worse, slower. Maybe everything was harder because she was exhausted? Mariah wondered.

But as she stood and pressed her hand subtly to her bulging nethers, she felt something that was definitely not a head. Still it spread her apart plenty.

She was only two steps up to the next room when the next contraction hit. It was too much. Despite Sister Wallace’s support arm, Mariah’s legs gave out and she went down. She was too tired to scream, so she could only moan as something stretched her lips apart, only to be slowly shoved back in by the restrictive garments.

“Help,” she moaned. “Let me birth it, please.”

It took both Mathew and Sister Wallace to drag her limp, stumbling, exhausted body up the stairs and plop her in the seat for the next section. The contractions came and went, her body’s frantic, last push to get the baby out. The pressure and pain was awful, but the baby was stuck fast, spreading her lips wide apart, far wider than the son’s head. The garments were too worn by this time to push the baby back, it only held it, at the butt equivalent of a full crown, as the contractions continued on and on.

She zoned out in the pain, lost, distant. Until, at last she was pulled to her feet once more. The baby’s body brushed against her inner thighs as she was dragged to the front of the veil, muttered through the secrets, and was finally let inside. She didn’t have the energy to kneel, so she was laid across the altar.

Mathew was there this time, as Sister Wallace took off the garment bottoms, throwing Mariah’s skirts up, over her belly and out of the way.

Completely exposed, Mariah tried to look down to see what was happening, her legs propped up on either side of the altar on stools to keep them separate. She couldn’t have held them up, someone was doing it for her. Despite her efforts she couldn’t see over her misshapen belly.

“You are doing so good, I can see it,” Mathew assured her, from where he held one leg. “Push!”

The contraction came, and Mariah tried. The baby’s butt scooted forward a bit, then resumed its place, comfortable where it had been stuck for the last hour.

“Can’t,” she gasped out, head falling limply, once the contraction ended.

Then Mathew’s hand pressed down on her stomach, pushing hard. The increase in pain, the suddenly movement of the baby startled Mariah, she let out a squeak, and stopped pushing.

Mathew’s hand rested on her stomach. He leaned down, grabbed her chin, and forced her to look up at him. Then he forced his mouth on her, kissing her. She gasped at the contact, kissing back instinctively, unsure if it was too much or just the reassurance she needed. Then he pulled back. The next contraction came, contorting her stomach. She whimpered and tried to push, but she was too weak, too exhausted. The baby wasn’t moving!

“Keep pushing!” he commanded as he pushed.

Slowly, the baby’s butt slipped out of her straining, purpled lips. After three contractions, where she tapped out early, exhausted, heading spinning and he kept pushing on her stomach, the legs finally flopped out. She was too exhausted to even scream at that point. 

Her world narrowed to pushing, to the sensation of her lips dragging across the stomach and arms of her baby. Until finally, it popped out, accompanied by another flash of fluids. 

Done. No. The head. She still had the head. 

Someone had grabbed the baby and was tugging at it from the other end, sending fire shooting all through her worn body. Her lips spread again, more and more. The lips, the nose, oozing slowly out of her. And then with a pop, and a final gush of fluids she was done. The baby was crying. Mathew was holding it, cooing. “Oh she’s perfect,” he whispered, holding the baby out to Mariah.

Mariah smiled. She’d done it. They were a family of four. Together. Forever.

[katerinaaqu]

i'm in despair (this is about antinous)

WHAT?! Okay seriously I have had enough at this point with this bullshit and the misinformation out there just because some people twist away the Odyssey and become famous to the point of people not being able to tell reality from fanfiction and of people who just won't do research or read the most crappy "translations" in the world! So because I have had enough here's ALL the lines Antinous speaks in the Odyssey to clear this up once and for all!

(Be warned this will be long but please share this as much as you can guys! Forgive me in advance if some of my translations are a bit sloppy or not as accurate I am willing to redo some passages if you guys want in comments or reblogs in the future.)

Please spread this because honestly I have had enough and this EXACTLY why I cannot take anymore of these "retellings" and whatever the hell the names are and the changes they make for no reason to characters for "creative liberties" because honestly people cannot even read the sources properly and they just make claims taking advantage of popularity of media!

ANTINOUS'S LINES IN THE ODYSSEY:

And then Antinous the son of Eupeithes answered him:

"Telemachus, no doubt the gods themselves are teaching you well since you became such a boaster and speak with so much insolence! May son of Cronus make sure that you shall never reign Ithaca of the two seas, which is your ancestral right!"

(Translation by me)

Rhapsody 1 (383-387): Antinous to Telemachus in irony when Telemachus has seen Athena in disguise off.

~

Telemachus, you high-and-mighty, uncontrollable in your insolence, what kind have you said is my shame: you wish to shift the blame! But I tell ya it is not the fault of the Achaean suitors but of your beloved mother's, who knows very well how to gain from others. For this is the third year, nearly entering the fourth, that she plays with the feelings within the chests of the Achaeans. For she has given promises to each and every one of us all and sends us messages but in her head and she has made a big ploy; and after she set a large loom in the palace and began to weave in a thin and complicated way and then she said to us:

"Young men, my suitors, since divine Odysseus is dead, please be patient since you are in a hurry for my marriage, but allow me fulfill this one pledge, for I do not want this weaving of mine be for nothing, let me make a shroud for the heroic Laertes for when his fate strikes and is taken by the death who brings so many woes, so that I will not gain resent from the Achaean women, oh, if the man who gained so much were to lie without a shroud"

So she spoke to us and our heroic hearts were persuaded and so in there by day she was looming at her great web and by night she was destroying it under the light of the torches she had beside her. And so she gained herself 3 years with her deceit that persuaded the Achaeans, now entering the forth and time has passed and we were informed on this by one of the women who clearly saw what had happened and so we caught her red-handed unraveling the great web. And so she was forced out of necessity to finish it. And so to you the suitors are replying to you so you shall know it deep in your heart and for all the other Achaeans to know; send back your mother to her father and command her to choose which one of us she pleases to marry. For, truly, Athena has blessed her with knowledge and craftsmanship and understanding heart; such wiles Penelope knows above other beautifully-haired Achaean women, even than the ones known by the old ones; and Tyro and Alcmene and beautifully-wreathed Mycene but her last wile was not right and so we shall continue to eat here from your inheritance, for despite the fact that the gods placed such mind more than many inside her and she brings great name upon herself, but you shall regret your insolence. We shall not move back to our homes or to any other place until she marries which of us Achaeans she desires!

(Translation by me)

Rhapsody 2 (86-128): Antinous to Telemachus about Penelope's scheme when Telemachus accused the suitors for their staying at his palace. Penelope is being accused for her game upon them and simoultaneously praised for her mind and craftsmanship but also Telemachus being pressured to send her back to her father to start preparing for her upcoming marriage.

~

And Antinous immediately laughed and rushed to Telemachus and grabbing one of his arms he mocked him:

"Telemachus, you high-and-mighty, uncontrollable in your insolence do not have other evil word or action you in your mind for us, but I say come and eat and drink with me like before, I am sure all these you want the Achaeans shall provide and ships and outstanding oarsmen so that quickly you shall reach holy Pylos and hear news of your noble father!"

(Translation by me)

Rhapsody 2 (301-308): Antinous to Telemachus mockingly after the end of the gathering. Basically Antinous mocks Telemachus and tells him to forget the meeting ever happened and then mocks him with the notion he had to reach Pylos for news of his father.

~

And then Antinous, the son of Eupeithes replied:

"Tell me the truth! Where did he go and who were the men that followed him? Were they chosen Ithacan youth or heirlooms and slaves that belonged to him? Definitely I think he is capable even for that! And tell me this as well and answer truthfully for I shall know, whether by force and without your will he acquired the black ship or whether you gave it to him willingly, agreeing with his words!"

(Translation by me)

Rhapsody 4 (641-647): Antinous to Noemon son of Phronius. The man possessed the ship which Telemachus got and now Antinous is interrogating the man on whether he did so with his free will or by force. The man of course replies that he had no reason to refuse Telemachus thus gaining the reaction by Antinous:

Furiously, then replied to him Antinous the son of Eupeithes; with great anger filling his black heart, both his eyes shining like fires:

"Damn! What a bold insolence Telemachus has put in action, this journey, even if we were saying he would never see it through! The way he has managed to launch a ship and even pick the best youth of the people and take them with him! He shall be our doom soon the way it goes! But hopefully Zeus's strength shall destroy him before he reaches the maturity of youth but go on now and give me a fast ship and twenty men so I shall wait for him and set an ambush to the narrow path between Ithaca and rugged Same and so his voyage to find his father shall have a sad end!"

(Translation by me)

Rhapsody 4 (660-672): Antinous to himself and the other suitors. Basically here he speaks on the ambush he wants to set on Telemachus in his anger that Telemachus left for the trip after all plus how he fears that Telemachus will be their doom somehow.

~

Gentlemen, all of us, let us stop spewing arrogant words for someone might as well report your words in this house. But let us speak in low voice and make our words action, for this has pleased all our hearts.

(Translation by me)

Rhapsody 4 (774-777): Antinous to the other suitors. In plotting in silence how they would proceed with the murder of Telemachus while Penelope is up in her rooms praying to Athena for the saving of her son.

~

Damn! Look how the gods have saved this man from misfortune! Even if we had guards waiting at the windy tops day after day, one after the other. And when the sun fell down we didn't stay on shore but we sailed on the fast ships in the sea till the divine Eos (Dawn) waiting and lurking for Telemachus to take hold of him and destroy him: some god undoubtedly has brought him home! But let us here plan the sorrowful doom of Telemachus so that he won't escape us; for I know that as long as he lives our plans will not be fulfilled. He has persuaded the council and the people do not agree with us anymore. But let's go before he gathers the assembly of the Achaeans because I think he won't be wise to act slow but he would rush in full wrath and he would choose to rise everyone up by saying that we contrived against him murder but didn't catch him and they will not like it when they hear our evil deeds. Mark my words, he will drive us all out of our lands and we shall move to stranger lands! Come on! Let us seize him at the countryside, outside of the city or on the way and let us seize all his possessions and lands and divide them among ourselves equally but the house we shall give to his mother and to whomever marries her. But if you are displeased by these words and you believe he should live and keep his inheritance then let us stop devouring his goods and leave the house and each one of us from his own palace shall continue showering her with gifts till she will have as husband the one who offers the most.

(Translation by me)

Rhapsody 16 (364-392): Antinous to himself and the other suitors. His fury that Telemachus escaped their ambush and he repeats the plan on killing him or establishes even more options for the suitors. In here he also suggests to keep pressuring Penelope to marry.

~

And so spoke Antinous scolding the swineherd

"Notorious swineherd what did you bring him to the city for? Don't we have enough vagabonds and other annoying beggars to ruin our dinner? Aren't they enough people to eat the king's wealth here that you invited this one too?"

(Translation by me)

Rhapsody 17 (374-379): Antinous to Eumeus on Odysseus. Eumeus had brought Odysseus-Beggar to the palace and Melanthius, the goat-herder had pointed out that he saw Eumeus leading him there so Antinous once more barges in and complaints (that is the first time Antinous speaks in the presence of Odysseus)

~

Telemachus you high-and-mighty and uncontrollable in your insolence what did you say! If all the other suitors were to give him as much then he wouldn't need to come back for the next three months!

(Translation by me)

Rhapsody 17 (406-408): Antinous to Telemachus. Telemachus mocks Antinous on his mocking on Odysseus/Beggar and so had Eumeus before him so now Antinous just mocks them back

~

Which god has brought this creature to destroy our feast? He stood there in apart from our tables and claims he comes from bitter Egypt or Cyprus: He insolently and so rudely asks for food from all who are here: and they give it so recklessly for no one is more generous in giving than the one who gives something that belongs to someone else for they have much each!

(Translation by me)

Rhapsody 17 (446-452): Antinous to himself and Odysseus. Odysseus goes to Antinous in particular to beg for food and tells him once more his "sad story" on how he fell from grace. Antinous does not like the whining and he retaliates. Ironically he also says something correct here; that they are all generous to the food they give to Odysseus because that food is not theirs in the first place.

~

So he spoke and Antinous got even more furious and looking down upon him he replied with winged words:

"Now you shall no longer stay in this palace, back off since you speak words of accusation!"

(Tranlation by me)

Rhapsody 17 (458-461): Antinous to Odysseus. Odysseus insists upon Antinous give him some food and Antinous retaliates sending him away and in the next scene he throws the stool at him

~

And to him replied Antinous the son of Eupithes:

"Sit there and eat, stranger or go elsewhere or else you shall be thrown out being carried away by your arms and legs and be skinned whole!"

(Translation by me)

Rhapsody 17 (477-480): Antinous to Odysseus. Basically Odysseus complained to the entire assembly that Antinous has just striken him because he is hungry. Antinous doesn't like it and threatens that Odysseus will be carried out by force and be skinned alive if he goes on. He is heard by Penelope upstairs and she is filled in the details by Euryclaea.

~

Mighty Antinous heard them two talking and breaking in merry laughter he addressed the suitors:

"Friends how fortunate that such a thing happened, that the gods brought such entertainment to our doors! Irus and the stranger fighting and wishing to hit each other! Quickly! Let's set them up!"

So he spoke and everyone broke down laughing and gathered together the two beggars and again Antinous son of Eupithes addressed them:

"Listen, heroic suitors, what I am about to say. These goat stomachs here that is roasting on the fire and we had set them here to make dinner after we have filled them with fat and blood but now I say the one who wins and comes out on top let him choose which one he wants to have for himself and what's more he shall dine with us and we shall suffer no more a beggar begging among us!"

(Translation by me)

Rhapsody 18 (34-49): Antinous to the rest of the suitors. Irus has arrived to the palace and he picks up a fight with Odysseus/Beggar and Antinous loving the idea of watching them two fight and suggests the contest.

~

Now, don't whine, you bully and it might have been better if you never born if you are to be afraid and trembling of this fellow, a man old and beaten down by misery. I tell ya and it's done: he has won against you and is stronger, I shall throw you in a black ship and exile you to the mainland to the king Echetus, the baneful of men, and he shall have your nose and ears cut off with ruthless bronze and shall throw your privates to the dogs to devour!

(Translation by me)

Rhapsody 18 (79-87): Antinous to Irus. Basically he threatens and mocks Irus for being afraid of losing to "an old man". Irus was taken over by fear when Odysseus revealed his shoulders and legs realizing that he is not just a common old man. Antinous is "guilt tripping" and threatening Irus so that the two of them would fight.

~

And Antinous son of Eupeithes replied to her:

"Daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, the gifts you want the Achaeans shall bring you here, for you to accept them, for it is no good not to accept them, but we shall not leave this place and go elsewhere till you choose to marry the best of us Achaeans!"

(Translation by me)

Rhapsody 18 (284-289): Antinous to Penelope. Penelope demands wedding gifts (as a manipulation for the suitors to bring items to pay back what they have eaten and possibly more than that). She probably hoped to manipulate the suitors out of her house. Antinous responds to her by accepting her request but also expresses the decision all the suitors made, not to leave the house till she has chosen a husband (in the next lyrics it is revealed that Antinous's gift was a beautiful embroidered robe with 12 golden brooches)

~

I verily think is hard, Achaeans, to accept the word of Telemachus who has so much spoken threateningly against us. Truly the son of Cronus Zeus wouldn't have tolerated this but he would already have silenced him in this palace, the way he clearly speaks!

(Translation by me)

Rhapsody 20 (271-274): Antinous to the rest of the suitors. Telemachus placed his father (dressed as beggar) sit among the suitors and has showingly given him good portion of food and golden cup and he told him boldly to sit and eat and drink with the rest of the people for it is not a public house here but the house of Odysseus that treats his guests! (I also find it a nice cheeky move by Telemachus here!) Antinous didn't like it and he speaks up

~

You foolish boors who only care for today! Cowards why are you crying now and you are troubling the heart of this woman? Now that she has learnt she has lost her dear husband! Be silent and sit down or if you have to weep go elsewhere and leave this bow behind so it will be a the contest of decision for the suitors. For I believe it will be no easy task to chord this bow. For there is no such a man among us like the one Odysseus was! And I myself have seen him and I remember him even if I was but an infant child then!

Rhapsody 21 (86-96): Antinous to Eumeus. Eumeus was ordered to bring up the bow from the armory. Eumeus held the bow in his hands and he actually cried in emotion as he held his master's favorite bow. Antinous retaliates and calls him names because as he says "he is troubling Penelope" with his cries and he speaks on how he remembers Odysseus when he was a child. And ironically or not so much he speaks very positively on Odysseus and the kind of man he remembers him to be, maybe because he thinks he is safe now and believes Odysseus to be dead.

~

And Antinous, the son of Eupeithes, said to them:

"Rise in your turn from the right, all my friends, we start with the order the wine is being poured"

(Translation by me)

Rhapsody 21 (140-142): Antinous to the rest of the suitors. He basically suggest the order with which everyone will try and string the bow (with the order that the jug holder has poured them wine) from right to left)

~

But Antinous reproved his words and he called out:

"Leodes! What words have escaped the barrier of your teeth?! This is both painful and dreadful words indeed that I feel resentment by just hearing you! If this is the bow that shall judge who is the best in heart and soul no wonder you cannot string it. Your noble mother hasn't birthed you to be a strong archer or shoot arrows. Let the other noble suitors string it!"

So he spoke and then he ordered Melanthius, the goat herder:

"Melanthius, go and light a fire in the hall and place a great chair by it covered in fleece and bring a large block of fat when you come back so that we shall smear the bow with it and soften it over the flames before we execute our contest"

(Translation by me)

Rhapsody 21 (167-180): Antinous to Leodes and immediately after Antinous to Melanthius. Leodes expressed the impossible of stringing the bow and then he claimed that he'd rather die than suffer the loss there for Penelope's hand and Antinous does not like the defeatist attitude. He takes over and orders to Melanthius to bring the tools to care for the bow and make sure it is usable after so long staying in storage. This passage also shows the knowledge Antinous has on weaponry in general and possibly hunting in particular.

~

Eurymachus, this won't work; you know it yourself, because now it is a public celebration for a god. Who then would string the bow?I say set it aside for now. Newvertheless we shall leave the axes here where they are, for I believe no one shall enter to the palace of Odysseus the son of Laertes, to take them! But let's go, let the cup bearer pour the liberations in our goblets as we make our offerings and let's set aside the curved bows! By the morning we shall order Melanthus the goat herder shall bring the best out of the goats he is tending and herding and so we shall sacrifice their thighs to Apollo of the beautiful bow and we shall try one more time to execute the challenge of this bow.

(Translation by me)

Rhapsody 21 (257-268): Antinous to Eurymachus when none of them could string the bow he suggests that it is because it is a public celebration that they should make their own offerings to the gods and call it a day and try another day because he assumed it is possible that the reason they couldn't string it could possibly be that it was because of the celebration. So he suggests to call it a day and offer a sacrifice to Apollo the next day before they try again.

~

Ah bloody stranger! You have absolutely no trace of wit! You are not satisfied enough that you arrogantly sit and dine with us and you are in no want of food but you also pry in our conversations and overhear our words! No other beggar or stranger ever overheard our words! Undoubtedly the sweet wine has gotten to your head and you know the wine is bad for others too, if greedily take gulps and drink without measure. The wine made even the centaurs and the noble Eurytion act foolishly when they were to the palace of great-hearted Pirithus, when he went to the Lapithes: and because his mind was consumed by wine, his frenzy caused great evil upon the house of Pirithus. And so great sorrow fell upon the heroes for he was dragged out of the doors and thrown out and his ears and nose were cut wit merciless bronze and so he bore the punishment for the madness of his mind. And so it commenced the fight between the Centaurs and the humans. They were the first to see the evil of heavy drinking. And you who speak big words I warn you if you manage to bend the bow you shall not be met with kindness and we shall throw you to a black ship and exile you to the mainland to the king Echeton, the baneful of men, there nothing will save you! Sit still and drink and don't aim to compete against much younger men than you!

(Translation by me)

Rhapsody 21 (288-310): Antinous to Odysseus. Odysseus/Beggar has just slowly approached Eurymachus and Antinous and he has asked for the right to try the bow himself. Antinous got furious that Odysseus overheard them and that he suggested to take part to the challenge and then he assumes that Odysseus is drunk and he even brings up the myth of the centaurs and the Lapithes to say how wine makes people say and do stupid things. Ironically he is most likely self-projecting since he does seem to be the intoxicated one (at least how I read his passages). And those were the last words spoken by Antinous and the last ones addressed to Odysseus.

In the next passages is the death of Antinous (he doesn't get the chance to even react given how Odysseus kills him when he is about to take a drink with an arrow through his throat) and his name is mentioned a few times by Eurymachus and some more mentions by name.

**

As you see there is absolutely no mention whatsoever not even to the murder of Telemachus to none of the scenes where Odysseus is present (mind you neither to the scenes where Penelope is either! Penelope was informed on their scheme by a servant that overheard them and she went down to confront Antinous!)

Also Antinous makes no mention whasoever in any rape! He mentions the myth of the centaurs and Lapithes and NOT EVEN THEN does he mention the attempt of rape of the women by the drunk centaurs yet alone to Penelope! The only things he speaks about is how to keep pressuring Penelope choose a husband and he mentions wedding gifts.

If anything it is ODYSSEUS the one that gets threatened all the time by Antinous and mistreated by him. Antinous even speaks positively about Penelope like 99% of the time with the exception when he calls her devious for her trick that had them all waiting.

Absolutely they want to increase pressure to Penelope and they want to kill her son but that rape thing should be enough at this point! Honestly THIS is where a certain someone SHOULD come out and say that these came out of his head and NOT the Odyssey! Like sure it is your imagination and do whatever with it but damn!

Sorry I am really upset with these smartasses on the internet at this point! Once again forgive me if any of my interpretations is sloppy or even if I have forgotten something. I have double checked but just in case.

[annwrites]

⸻ a call to arms. part five. ⸻

· pairing: jacaerys velaryon x dragonseed!reader · type: part of a series · summary: you & jace hide yourselves away in a familiar alcove after a morning tiff. · word count: 3,286

When you wake the next morn, you feel in at least slightly better spirits.

You’d, after your 'incident' with Jace, sent the coin he’d given you to your family in King’s Landing, writing for them to send notice to you as soon as possible, informing you that they've received it.

Once you’ve broken your fast and dressed, you emerge from your chambers, wanting for an early-morning walk along the beach…only to be greeted by an unfamiliar guard outside your door.

“Where…where is Ser Myles?”

He bows his head to you. “I believe he has been reassigned, My Lady.”

You blink up at the strange man before you, anger quickly flooding your every sense.

You head directly for Jacaerys’ room.

Jace is interrupted from breaking his fast by a loud pounding on his door.

He panics, immediately worried that, mayhaps, it is Baela. 

What if she knows of last night—what nearly occurred between the two of you? What if she has come to call off their betrothal? Gods, what in Seven fucking Hells had he been thinking? What has he been since your first meeting but a couple of nights ago?

When you’re near, he finds himself unable to think straight. You cloud his judgements. Rather, force him to think with only one part of himself—and it is most certainly not with what sits between his ears, but rather his legs.

He stands, walking toward the door—lightly jumping when the pounding begins again. He wrenches it open—ready to loose his sharp tongue on whomever has forgotten their manners so early in the morn, only to be immediately cut off by you barging into his chambers.

“Where is he?” You ask acidically, swiftly swinging round to him, your loose silver hair falling over your shoulders. 

His mouth tugs into a frown.

The pleasant girl from last night has clearly fled him once again, instead replaced by one filled with fire.

“You’ll need be more specific, I’m afraid,” he replies cooly.

You take a step closer, your hands balled into tight fists at your sides, your nostrils flared. “Ser Myles, my guard. Where is he?”

He grits his teeth. “He has been reassigned.”

“To whom?” You spit.

“Not to whom, but to where,” he states flatly.

You seethe. “You sent him away.”

“I did. He was no longer suited to his role here as your protector.”

“Because he dared touch me, as if I did not do it back?” You ask with a raised brow and a hammering heart.

He takes a small step toward you, and then another. “You barely knew him. Why does it matter?”

His brow twitches in irritation. “Unless it was more than just a few ‘innocent’ touches which were shared. Mayhaps...”

He grins then, chuckling darkly, shaking his head.

“What?” You bark with vehemence. 

He steps closer, followed by another step and another, while you back up, glancing behind you, the wall on the right side of the room growing ever-closer.

“It is just your nature, isn’t it? I should’ve known as much the night last when you encouraged me to…to dishonor my betrothed.”

Your jaw falls slightly open. 

“You can’t help yourself. A wanton woman who can think only with that which is between her le—”

You slap him.

Slowly, he turns back in your direction, watching silently as tears slip down your cheeks and your chin wobbles.

“I am not the only one to blame,” you say between sobs.

His face falls slightly at the state of you. Of his own causing, no less.

“He was my friend. He was like me: lowborn. I’d found someone to talk to, and you took him away from me. Leaving me left with only the likes of you. If you wish for someone to blame for what we did, you should first take a look in the mirror, and remember whom it was who summoned whom to sup with them.”

He remains silent, only breathing steadily as he continues to stare at you.

“Jealousy and pride is no excuse to treat people as you do: disposable, lesser than, inconsequential.”

You step closer, jutting your chin upward as you stare into his brown eyes. “We are many. It is all of you who is few. You should remember that for when you are one day king, and inevitably go a step too far.”

You turn, heading for the door, slamming it behind you.

You find a quiet spot on the beach where you turn your back to your new guard and cry. 

You refuse to even speak to him. Not because you do not wish to, but because you are afraid of what may happen to him if you try.

No place is safe here.

You are filled with immeasurable guilt. For Myles—losing his position here is all your fault. Had the two of you never met, he would still be in his position. And for Baela. 

You could see it yesterday when she looked at the two of you, could hear it in her tone—the worry that Jacaerys looks upon you in a way he should not. 

She deserves better than someone like him, you’re sure. Then again, she, too, is highborn. Most like, she sees you just as he does.

As they all do.

You hate it here.

You don’t bother coming in, even when you begin to shiver from being cold. You merely sit and stare at the endless expanse of sea that lies before you.

You know your guard must be growing tired, but when you had tried telling him that if he would like to go inside he may, he’d merely told you his post was protecting you.

So you drift away in your thoughts, returning to your small abode in King's Landing, pretending you are sat upon a rocking chair, your little girl in your lap as she snacks on pastries you've made for her as you tell her stories.

Mayhaps you should instead steal away on Silverwing, as opposed to remaining here. Offer yourself to the Greens. At least that way, you will be closer to home.

You cannot support a family such as this. Neither of them deserve that which they fight for.

You wrap your arms round yourself, debating.

Jacaerys had given you a bit of time after your morning tiff in hopes that you would cool down.

He, himself, has felt in a daze in the hours since—your heated words going round and round within his mind.

And the heartbroken look he had instilled upon your face... His own had deserved to sting in return when you repaid him for his offensive accusations.

And now he treads the beach in search of you.

He is unsure what he means to do when he finds you.

More lessons in High Valyrian? Gods know you need further tutoring.

Another flying lesson upon Silverwing? He is sure you do not wish to be so close to him again.

Not today, at the very least.

Just as he begins to consider turning round and going back inside, he spots you sitting atop a small boulder, your guard at your back as you stare at the sea that lies before you with a solemn, blank expression.

You look...pale. And you shiver from the cold.

Now he has driven you even from feeling welcome in the castle where you should instead be, finding warmth.

Not that he's sure you ever did feel welcome to begin with.

All his fault...

When he meets your guard's eyes, he motions for him to return to the castle, and the man bows his head in return before turning round to leave.

You do not even notice his sudden absence.

Nor do you notice as Jacaerys stalks ever-closer.

Not until he is draping a warm cloak round your shoulders do you realize his presence.

Your head shoots up, and you quickly scowl, promptly standing.

You throw off his metaphorical olive branch, quickly marching in the other direction.

"Stop," he calls to you, retrieving his cloak, jogging to catch up to you.

You keep your mouth clamped firmly shut, refusing to speak to him.

"Please stop. I only wish to—"

You skip ahead a few steps, nearly tripping over your skirts you're so eager to create distance between you and he.

He lets out a low curse, spots an opportunity off to the side, then swiftly reaches forward, taking your hand in an iron-tight grip as he pulls you alongside him into a familiar alcove.

"Let go of me!" You shout, trying desperately to yank yourself free of him.

He holds firm, refusing to let you escape him as he hides the two of you away round a corner.

He pushes you back against a stone wall, desperate to make you listen, until you slap his face again, tears running down your own.

"I hate you! I cannot stand the sight of you! Being near you is unbearable! You royal arse!"

You begin pounding tiny fists against his chest, trying to push him away, until he has reached his limit, and he pins your arms to the wall behind you, just the same as before.

"I'm sorry!" He shouts.

You quiet then, staring up at him with vehemence.

"For all of it. My beastly behavior since we met. It has been..." He shakes his head. "Un-princely of me. I just..."

He cannot say it—that he both envies your looks, while they are also simultaneously the reason he lusts after you. And that you have figured him out with ease time and again. His insecurities over someone like you claiming a dragon, which he had thought made him special to have. And someone like you somehow being more worldly than he—a royal prince.

You know more than him, and it had stoked his ire time and again with how...mature you seem. Making him feel a child in return.

But that same maturity... Gods, how he longs to see you exemplify it again and again.

"You just what?" You spit, pushing back against him, though it does you little good.

There is a brief silence which hangs between you, until he comes closer, the familiar feel of his erection becoming present as he presses it to your abdomen.

"I want you."

You roll your eyes. "As I am well-aware. The feeling is not returned, I assure you. Now, let me—"

"Gods, you're fucking impossible, aren't you?"

"Me?! You've no idea what you want. Me, or Baela, or—"

He crushes his lips to yours while you squeal and squirm against him. And then you clamp down on his lower lip, drawing blood.

He wrenches himself away, but still holds firm to you.

"You just...you just bit me!" He cries in shock.

"Try that again and I'll do it again," you seethe.

He sneers, squeezing your wrists impossibly tighter.

"Fine. Then I shall..." He pauses.

Is he truly about to do this?

He glances to the side—the direction of where the alcove's entrance lies—then back to you.

He releases you, kneeling.

"What're you—"

"Teach me," he says, blinking up at you.

And you stare down at him, taken aback, quickly cooling.

"Teach..."

He reaches beneath your skirts, sliding a warm hand up your calf.

"Teach me how to please you. Allow me to show you how truly sorry I am in this...other way," he says with a slight smirk.

"I have taught you much these last few days. It is time, mayhaps, you return the favor."

He slides his hand higher. "It will, after all, be for your own benefit, at least."

He presses a soft kiss to your stomach, over your dress. "Allow me to please you."

You swallow nervously. "Jace..."

His face slowly falls and he glances away, softly shaking his head. "Foolish," he whispers. "Forgive me—"

You shakes your head, not wishing to humiliate him. Not when it comes to this. Even if he mayhaps deserves to be hurt in return for how he did the same just this morn.

"No, it's just... How am I to trust that I...consent, and you do not, once again, throw it back in my face, just as you did with what occurred between us last night?"

He slides his hand up the back of your thigh. "You have me on my knees. Begging you to allow me to pleasure you. You need more reassurance that you have me at your mercy now?"

Your lip twitches. Oh, Gods, this is so very strange.

"What do you... I mean, there are many things..." You stumble over your words, searching for that which you mean to ask.

His eyes trail down your body before settling on that which is directly before him—hidden beneath skirts of his own selection.

"I would use my mouth, Y/N, if it please you."

"What of...Baela? Or... If this is your first experience, are you sure you—"

"I know what I want. And I know that it is you. Here. Now. Will you not allow me this most singular indulgence?"

Your heart pounds between your breasts and all sensations of cold have fled your body, instead replaced by a blooming warmth spreading across your electrified skin.

Finally, you nod.

And he smiles.

He reaches to the hem of your skirt, pushing it upwards, and you take it from him, holding it above your waist as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your smallclothes, easing them down your thighs until they're pooled round your shoes.

You step out of them and he tucks them into his pocket before taking your bare hips in either of his hands, staring at your glistening cunt with wide eyes.

He licks his lips, swallowing thickly.

He gazes up at you once again. "How do I... What do I do, exactly?"

You nearly burst into a fit of nervous giggles, but use all your strength to fight the feeling down.

"Do you see...um...that small, fleshy hood—so to speak?"

He reaches forward, pulling it upwards, nodding, revealing a small pink pearl beneath.

"That—what you've just...revealed is what gives a woman her...pleasure."

He grins. "I believe I know all I need for the moment being."

And with that, he dives between your thighs, planting his full mouth openly against your sex, beginning to suck and run his tongue between your hot folds.

You throw your head back, sucking in a sharp gasp as your eyes flutter closed.

You quickly thread your fingers tightly in his dark curls, tugging his face impossibly closer to your sex.

You release a shuddering breath, sighing his name. "Jace..."

He reaches up, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder before he bends his neck to the side, diving ever-deeper with his tongue, desperate to fuck you with it.

He spreads your lips with his fingers, running his tongue along your dripping entrance, moaning against your heat.

"Gods, Jace, just like that."

His lip twitches, glad for your approval.

He kisses you sloppily, making loud, wet, smacking noises against your cunt—his cock straining painfully against his breeches all the while.

Palming himself over them only serves to makes the pain all the worse.

He breaks from you, staring up at you from under hooded lids—his face now slick from your arousal.

"May I untie my breeches, My Lady?"

Your brow twitches? He...he wants your permission to give himself relief?

"Y-yes, of course."

He nods, just once. "Thank you."

Your brows shoot up at his reply, watching as he tugs desperately against black leather strings. Finally, he reveals himself: long and hard, and the pink tip weeping with seed.

He does not stroke himself even once before he returns his full attentions, instead, to you.

And it is with fervor that he does.

He slurps and gasps and moans loudly in the back of his throat as he dines upon the most delectable part of you.

"Gods," he mutters against your mound. "You're so beautiful. Mm, and delicious."

He spreads your labia again, kneeling even lower as he flicks his tongue repeatedly against your pulsating entrance—dragging his speared tip back and forth, back and forth...

You gasp, clenching his curls tightly in both of your fists before pushing his face back against where you most want his mouth to be: against your clit.

"My clit—that...part I—"

He finds it instantly.

"Oh, Gods, good boy, Jace!"

He growls against you, his ministrations turning animalistic as he sucks and sucks against it, flicking his tongue, doing his utmost to please and tease.

You release his hair, tugging down the top of your gown, revealing your naked breasts before gathering your skirts again just as they've begun to slip over his head.

You want to see him.

Want to watch what he's doing to you.

Or, mayhaps, you are doing to him.

"Your fingers...slip two of them inside of me."

He does as instructed, easing them between your tight walls. The sensation he finds to be most unexpected: they are hot as fire, warm and wet and squishy, and utterly delightful.

Now he sees what all the fuss is about.

"Curl them upwards," you say between sighs.

He does.

"Now massage."

Slowly, he makes a beckoning motion with them and you gasp loudly, your eyes popping open.

"Yes, just like that. Good, you're doing so well!"

He pushes his face against your stomach—his nose pressed so hard into it that he can hardly breathe. So, he instead gasps for breath between your legs between long sucks and pleasant licks.

You bite your lower lip and Jace assumes he's most-certainly doing something right when those velvet walls begin to clench quickly around his soaked digits—your arousal so much that it's now running down his palm.

"Yes, yes, Jace, just like—oh, Gods, good boy—yes!"

He hums in contentment, glad to know he is doing right—is pleasing you so well in this way.

Your fingers tremble against his scalp, your breaths cause your body to shudder, and your thighs shake, but you do all you can to remain upright as you grow ever-closer.

He continually flicks his tongue against your too-sensitive bundle and you begin to whine in response.

"So close. You're doing so well... Gods, just a bit—just a bit more, My Prince"

He eases a third finger inside you, continuing to gently coax, and you gasp loudly.

"Yes! Yes! Nearly—"

He swirls his tongue round and round, on both his knees still, one of his hands tightly gripping your ankle for balance as he works fervently in your favor.

"Jace, oh Gods, I can't—I—Yes! Yes! Good boy! Yes!"

You finish against his face—against his tongue—giggling and gasping and whimpering all the while as your orgasm overtakes you.

You could swear you hear dragons roaring in the distance, but cannot know in your current state.

Eventually, you calm and when you look down, Jace is nearly on all fours, staring up at you with such a look as you have never before seen: lustful and wanton and overtaken with desire.

His face and hairline is slick, as well as his right hand.

Finally, he stands on wobbly legs, and it's then that you notice his cock is absolutely covered in his thick, white seed.

"Did...did you...?"

He crushes his lips to yours—his wet erection pressing against your bare stomach, leaving its own kiss in its wake as he pulls back after allowing you to taste yourself.

"I did not need even touch myself to finish at your hand," he mumbles with a pleased smirk, returning his lips to your own.

— tagging list: @emilynissangtr @tvangelism @aemondwhoresworld @cecestea @daisyhxsh

@burningwitchobject @zizouu23 @baybaybear1 @sugyomama @dracaryxzs

@hayloftxxo @gentlejoy @darlingcharling-blog @s0urw00lf @usaguisenpaisblog

@kqlopsia @marvel-at-stucky

[lostintransist]

I've come and gone from your page like four times, contemplating how to do part four with our stupid pretty Johnny "Soap" MacTavish.

The stupid pretty man with the pretty blue eyes that constantly seem to swing between shades of blue as they stare down at the black ink swirling on the operator's cheek bone across from him. Another shit mission and co-op with Shadow Company. AGAIN. They've become far to common and this... /Soldier/ laughed and bullshitted with their friend far to much. Even with the eye black masking those familiar curves. The straw broke on the camels back when the man snapped. Slamming the Operative against a wall, hand over that mouth that talked to damn much for a damn stealth mission. Those burning blue eyes searing (SROP AUTO CORRECTING ME DAMMIT) into the shocked ones, a loud 'bang!' echoing out. Having Johnny freeze stomach in his throat, breath held, staring... Staring... Staring... Before slowly looking down, seeing that smoking gun so dangerously close to his side. Turning back to look at an enemy soldier on the ground. "'m a decoy Sir, don' forget. Supposed to play stupid, doesn' make it so."

SUCH A GOOD IDEA! I wanted to expand on this a bit so anything in italics is taken exactly from @lialucis' delicious ask.

Soulmate AU if you wanted to see more about Johnny's tattoo before reading this.

Not proofread. The sun has been gone to long for my eyes to stay focused long enough to fix any errors I might have made.

The stupid pretty man with the pretty blue eyes that constantly seem to swing between shades of blue as they stare down at the black ink swirling on the [your] cheek bone [as you sit] across from him [at the long eating table].

The letters never made any sense to you. Though you once had a language professor chase you down to ask if you knew your tattoo was in Gaelic. You hadn't known but thanked him for the information. You had a tattoo artist you trust add vining leaves and small thistle flowers. Hiding it wasn't the goal, but you wanted to control who got to know. Almost everyone else had their marks in a hidable spot, able to mess around and not cause hurt feelings until it could be confirmed the marks don't match.

Not you though. Never had a first kiss because someone's claim to you superseded your autonomy. God sometimes you wish you could find the bastard and knock their block off. You had been close, once, to a first kiss. You had been sixteen and your mother found you sneaking off the back porch to meet up with a classmate who claimed to have your name inked across their inner right knee.

She broke down, disbelief and heartbreak crossing her face so fast tat even at sixteen and knowing everything you paused.

"The name on your birth certificate? The one we call you by? That isn't your first name. It's a tradition in a lot of places to give a secret first name so you can learn and grow into adulthood without having to worry about falling in love. I was going to tell you when you turned eighteen."

Despite all the justifications it had sliced at your bond with the claws of lies. You had gone to college out of state the same week you graduated and joined the military soon after bailing on your first semester. You had managed to flunk out of basic and ended up with a paramiltary contract group. You were a shadow because you liked to blow shit sky high and you were good with a weapon.

You were in Los Alamas on a job, functioning under Shadow Company Leader Phillip Graves. The man reminded you of fungus, creeping by so slow into your system that by the time he struck the killing blow you had been dead for weeks. Thankfully you didn't actually work for him. No. Phil lead the Shadows but he didn't create them. You worked directly for the head of the company, and she had given you a specific job.

See she thought that Phil was taking to many liberties in leading her company. Your job was to sniff it out, kill anyone you deemed necessary, and report back. The payout from this single job would set you up for life. You financial planner confirmed it. Now all you had to do was survive.

That brought you back to the man staring at you. His eyes trailed up and down the bits of your soulmate tattoo he could see. It extended up into your hair which had grown long again.

Pulling down your lower lid and sticking your tongue out at him before lifting your tray and disappering among the bodies of the other shadows. You kept running into him, almost as if he were searching you out. It grated at your already frayed nerves.

Another shit mission and co-op with [the 141]. AGAIN. They've become far to common and this... /Soldier/ laughed and bullshitted with their friend far to much. Even with the eye black masking those familiar curves. The straw broke on the camels back when the man snapped.

Phil had made his move, detaining Alejandro's men, and going home by home searching for the two members of the 141 that escaped. You slipped into the darkness behind them, skirting both the men who would kill you and the teammates who would label you a traitor. If you made it out of this they would know who really betrayed them.

[You had the misfortune of choosing the same wall for shelter as one "Soap". Slamming [you] against a wall, hand over that mouth that talked to damn much for a damn stealth mission [he snarled down at you. Again his eyes strayed to your tattoo insted of your eyes.]

"What are you doing here?"

A loud 'bang!' echo[ed] out. [Soap froze], stomach in his throat, breath held, staring... Staring... Staring...[at your eyes finally and not just your face], before slowly looking down, seeing that smoking gun so dangerously close to his side. Turning back to look at an enemy soldier on the ground.

"'m a decoy Sir. [The owner of the Shadows is not pleased with Phillip Graves and I am the nail in his coffin]. Supposed to play stupid, doesn' make it so."

The crackle of a radio between you breaks the moment.

"Johnny, you find any supplies yet?"

"Not yet L.T." he releases you and the button on the radio.

"Let's get your arm patched and get the fuck out of here. I have the city memorized. I had a feeling that something might happen." Peeking around corners you confirm the clear shot to an empty building.

Soap moves with you, on your heels and breath on your neck. Inside the empty builing there is a solid desk. You order Soap to sit there and begin to bandage his bleeding arm with the only roll of gauze you keep in your vest pack. Focused on wrapping and tightening down on the bleeding you miss his hand moving until a finger traces each letter with surity.

"I think this is my name." His whisper is shared to the dark as your eyes snap to his.

"What does yours say?" The quiet question comes out, harsh and haunting.

"That's the oddest thing, it's as if it's two names mashed together. As if their parent wanted to be sure they would know who their soulmate was."

Stumbling back you trip over your own boot. That conversation with your mother drifted back to you across the canyon of time.

"We slapped two family names together for you. We, I, wanted you to be sure when you found him," her heartbroken confession rocking you to the core.

"Holy fuck."

Soap grinned down at you before standing and offering you his uninjured side. Taking his hand he helps you up. You don't protest when his fingers slip between yours.

"How 'bout we go find my L.T. at a church and get the hell out of here bonnie?"

"You know I don't have much else going on tonight. That sounds like a plan."

His laugh is loud, and so much more gratifiing when it happens for you and not only near you.

Masterlist

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Kenshin's Sequel Preview

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

Spoilers ahead.

Once, he became a demon for my sake.

The deep, dark obsession he had was gradually turning into something more gentle.

Kenshin: "As long as we are in a truce, the Uesugi clan will not attack the Oda clan."

Kenshin: "Moreover, if the world becomes more chaotic, I could lend a hand in bringing peace, depending on the conditions."

Masamune: "A god of war would see a chaotic world as an opportunity for battle."

Kenshin: "That would only sadden Mai."

Kenshin: "Easing her worries takes precedence over everything, even the joy of battle."

Ieyasu: "I can't believe this is the same man who once tried to destroy everything for the sake of one woman."

Amid our happy days, I was sure that one day we would attain the calm of a serene sea, but...

Wounded Soldier: "Sorry, but I have my reasons."

Mai: "Ah!"

(He's going to kill me.)

A sinister hand reached for me as I accompanied them to battle.

As pain surged through me, the image of my beloved came to mind.

(No! I can't leave Kenshin alone.)

(Not like that time again.)

In my final moments, a memory and regret pierced my heart.

I never wanted to see him become a demon again.

(I wish I could go back in time. I wish I could redo everything.)

Would my desperate wish bring a miracle or something else?

----------------------------------

Kenshin: "You're pale. Are you in pain somewhere?"

Mai: "Huh? Me?"

(I'm not dead?)

From that moment, an unknown power to turn back time began to awaken within me.

When he learned of this, his heart began to crack secretly.

Kenshin: "I haven't given you permission to speak."

Kenshin: "Normally, I wouldn't even allow you to breathe, but I'm sparing you so you can spill all the information."

Man: "P-Please, spare me."

Kenshin: "Didn't you hear me? I told you to shut your mouth."

Mai: "U-Um, Kenshin."

Kenshin: ".........."

Mai: "!"

(It's been a long time since I've seen Kenshin with this expression.)

Kenshin: "You must have been worried, Mai."

Kenshin: "There's no need to stain your beautiful eyes with such an unsightly, tedious interrogation."

Who was it that first opened the box that held back his madness?

Kenshin: "Let me make this clear: I am furious, more than I've ever been."

Kenshin: "I'll protect you, no matter what. And I will kill every last one of them."

I wanted to give him as much love as he gave me.

Mai: "It wouldn't mean anything if I'm the only one who survives."

Mai: "Not using that power is the same as letting them die."

Kenshin: ".........."

Mai: "Please, I've made up my mind."

Kenshin: "That's the part of you I fell in love with."

Even if I burn my life away, my soul will shine only for you.

Kenshin: "I thought you were teaching me a gentle love, but I was gravely mistaken."

Kenshin: "The desire to possess you consumes me like a sweet poison, and it will never fade."

We are two halves seeking each other in a twisted way.

Our tightly clasped hands will never part, even in the depths of hell.

[deviouz]

OKAY SO LIKE idk if you take requests anymore but I need this done so bad and I love your writing so like imagine Jason Todd being adopted and raised by Catwoman and the reader by Batman as robin like a girl robin and basically Jason needs info or wtv and he defeats the reader in a battle or something and handcuffs her and like seduces her for it and reader's usually had super high morals and stuff but she's like simping over him and melts for him practically but idk something like tht like cat women and Batman but roles reversed but yea

Totally get if this is like weird too much though lmao

here’s a lil drabble while i make my way through other requests <3 thank you lovie!! also, jason’s name didn’t really come up, so i guess you can imagine it as whoever? i did write with jason in mind though!! ;; soz

role reversal !

“Come on, I know you can spit it out. The old man can’t be that important to you.”

It was hard to fight off the embarrassed blush as you jerked your wrists from behind your back, the cold bite of steel a painful reminder of the predicament you had found yourself in. The fight was long and drawn out, having left both of you breathless for a while before your captor had gotten the upper hand. It was times like this you really wished you had paid more attention to your father’s teachings about how to get out of precarious circumstances as this one.

How the hell were you supposed to dislocate your thumb and slip out of the handcuffs again?

Being Robin had given you quite the ego. It hadn't really occurred to you that getting captured was a possibility. Batman had shown you every trick in the book on how not to get caught.

Your opponent was as sly as a fox, though. He was quick on his feet, definitely hard to defeat. It was when you had the upper hand, or believed so, that the rug was quickly pulled out from under you, sharp smile and all.

Silence would be your best friend. There was no way in hell you were going to divulge any information that could be used against either yourself or your family — you’d sooner die than allow that to happen.

It was when he had made way to pluck the black mask shielding your eyes did you move, head jerking to the side while a noise of disapproval escaped your throat.

“Don’t touch me.”

He kneeled before you, lips curled into a smirk as a hand trailed from your knee to the middle of your thigh. Your suit was thin, meant more for agility than anything. It was nothing compared to the protective kevlar of the Batsuit. Stealth was your strong suit, and it turns out lingering touches from a man clad in a catsuit was your kryptonite.

“Don’t be like that. We can have fun! I promise I’ll make it worth your time,” he practically purred, voice smooth and intoxicating. “Just tell me what you know.”

Had your heart always beat this fast? Did he drug you? Maybe it was the lack of sleep finally catching up, the deprivation rearing its ugly head at the worst possible time.

“I thought I told you not to touch me,” you quipped back with a clenched jaw. Hands balled into fists and eyes narrowed, you were a sight for sore eyes. “How about you take these cuffs off and we go for a round two, hm?”

He had the audacity to giggle like it was the funniest thing in the world. The hand on your thigh began to inch upwards once more.

“Darling,” God, did that sound pretty rolling off the tip of his tongue, “any round two that we have will be somewhere with some nice booze and a bed, and maybe with soundproof walls depending on how loud I can get you.”

You were stronger than this, surely. Anything to protect Gotham and the people inhabiting it. You wouldn’t lose your nerve to a man with pretty words knelt before you.

“I can give you what you want, you know. Think of it like a trade; you give me the information I need, and I’ll have you screaming my name for all of Gotham to hear. Fair?”

As his touch began to grow more bold, warm hands slowly parting your thighs as he moved in between them, you knew you had to act fast. Resolve could only last so long, especially when coupled with a nighttime job known as being Robin — you were long overdue for something devious and a long nap.

Mustering up what little restraint remained, your foot raised to kick him back, momentarily leaving him a breathless heap of muscle and suave on the ground before you.

“You really don’t listen well.”

[aishangotome]

Azel Radwan: Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Thank you @shatcey for providing the video for this chapter!

♡———♡

Azel: Good evening. I've been wanting to see you, you know?

When I came to, I was here again.

In this rose garden full of buds, there’s a man with an otherworldly appearance, resting his hand on an oak table.

I have a strange feeling like this has happened before, or maybe it hasn't.

(Somehow, only the presence of this Living God feels strangely vivid.)

Emma: ...A dream, right?

Azel: Oh? There's no way to prove which is the dream and which is reality.

Azel: Human wisdom hasn't progressed enough to unravel the mysteries of dreams.

Azel: It's possible that you being here is actually reality, and vice versa.

(I kind of understand, but I kind of don't.)

Azel: By the way, are you good at cooking?

Suddenly switching from a mystical topic to a realistic one, it took me a while to grasp the meaning.

Emma: I wouldn't say I'm good at it, but I can make decent food.

Azel: That's good. Actually, I've been interested in the local cuisine of Rhodolite.

Emma: ...Why are you suddenly bringing this up?

Azel: Because I know what will happen in the future.

Azel: When the time comes, you'll understand my intentions.

(It's hard to believe, but I guess that's how Gods are.)

Azel: By the way, I haven't had dinner today.

Emma: Eh? Are you feeling unwell?

Azel: No, it's due to various circumstances.

Azel: You're supposed to be a kind-hearted woman. You wouldn't do something cruel like leave a God on the verge of starvation, would you?

Emma: ...Rather than a prophecy, it feels like you're blatantly pressuring me to "come and cook for you."

Azel: Not at all, not at all. I'm just telling you that I prefer hearty meals to sweets, but I have no ulterior motives.

(I feel like there's nothing but ulterior motives.)

Azel: Besides, "you" over there hardly remembers what happened here.

Azel: There's no point in pressuring you, is there?

Prince Azel smiles mercifully – and the world begins to distort.

Azel: Ah, I'm looking forward to it.

Azel: –– ...I just happened to need a slave.

-

I woke up with a start, drawn by the light, and found myself in the guest room that had been given to me yesterday.

(I think I had another dream.)

(...It was a dream with the Living God in it.)

As usual, my memories crumbled away.

What remained today was the puzzling information "hearty meals, not sweets," and a chilling, inexplicable pounding of my heart.

(It wasn't a nightmare, but... how strange.)

-

Emma: There's something I've been wondering about...

Emma: Owner, what's that?

The city surrounding Tanzanite Castle was even more lively than Rhodolite.

The reason was obvious; everywhere I looked, there were tourists who seemed to have come from foreign countries.

Some people were enjoying food bought from stalls, while others were browsing souvenir shops selling pottery and textiles, which were local specialties. But what drew the most attention was the statue of the Living God, sitting majestically in the center of the city.

(I only passed by yesterday, so I couldn't get a good look at it...)

(Looking at it now, it's a spitting image of the real thing.)

Akatsuki: It's a tourist attraction. It's famous as a power spot where wishes come true.

Emma: Ah, that's why so many people are praying.

Akatsuki: You want to go too?

Emma: No... I'll pass.

(My wish is "to fall in love," so somehow I feel like I shouldn't pray to this statue.)

(...Really, it's just a feeling.)

Emma: So, what are we doing today?

Akatsuki: We're delivering an item that was requested.

Emma: So the Living God wasn't your only client?

Akatsuki: I have about 100 business partners in Tanzanite.

(That many...?)

Akatsuki: Sometimes I sell books, sometimes I exchange them for other books.

Akatsuki: Watch and learn.

Emma: Yes! I'll do my best to learn.

(This is completely different from looking after the shop. I have to work hard.)

Renewing my determination, I chased after the Owner's back as he walked ahead.

But I soon stopped in my tracks.

Akatsuki: ...Seems like something's happening.

Emma: ...!

The crowd gathered a short distance away was different from the others; they were buzzing with commotion.

Thanks to the Tanzanite soldiers, people were already starting to disperse, but through the thinning crowd, I could see a man with a swollen face.

Emma: He's badly injured. Was it a fight?

???: Something like that. It's been happening a lot lately.

(Ah, that voice...)

When I turned around, I saw Basil carrying a large amount of luggage, and Kamal, whose beauty, as always, was attracting attention.

Basil: I suspect a diviner misread the divine oracle.

Emma: What do you mean?

Basil: Divination in Tanzanite is considered to be the interpretation of the divine oracle, which reads the will of God from the stars.

Basil: Since Prince Azel is a God himself, his words directly become divine oracles...

Basil: Diviners are required to be skilled in how well they can interpret the will of God.

(Speaking of which...)

*flashback*

Azel: The basis of divination in our country is astrology.

Emma: Astrology...?

Azel: It's what you call astrology. What's popular here is unique to Tanzanite.

*back to present*

(Unique, so that's what he meant.)

Basil: However, it seems that many diviners have been misinterpreting the divine oracle lately...

Basil: Customers who are angry about the blasphemy against God sometimes lash out like that.

It was a logic I couldn't understand.

(I think divination is something that can be right sometimes and wrong sometimes.)

Emma: ...Are mistakes not allowed?

Basil: Well, divination is something that can change a person's life.

Basil: In this country, to call yourself a divinator, you need to have a certain level of resolution or preparedness.

(I guess I don't understand because I'm from another country.)

Basil: The idea that Prince Azel's thoughts are something that a mere divinator can read is preposterous.

I felt a shadow fall over Basil's face as he pushed up his glasses.

(Basil also has something on his mind, and that's dangerous!)

As he touched his glasses, the balance of his luggage was disrupted, and the Owner supported it with a speed invisible to the eye.

Basil: Oh dear, I'm so sorry! Thank you very much.

Akatsuki: Don't mind it. But, is this for a feast?

(I thought so too.)

The contents of Basil's luggage were a large quantity of groceries.

It was such an amount that it seemed difficult even to walk while looking ahead, and at least I wouldn't be able to carry it.

Basil: No, it's just an errand.

Basil: It certainly feels like there's more than usual, but I'm sure there's some noble reason for it.

("Noble reason" means it's an errand for Prince Azel, right?)

Only Basil was running the errand; Kamal was empty-handed.

When our eyes met, his long, beautiful fingers pulled out a letter.

The envelope was presented to the Owner.

Akatsuki: An additional order?

The Owner, who opened the seal on the spot, furrowed his brow at the letter he took out.

Emma: ...What's wrong?

Akatsuki: It says they found a clue to the book I was looking for.

Akatsuki: ...But it's suspicious.

Emma: Isn't that a good thing?

Akatsuki: If they were willing to tell me like this, they could have told me yesterday.

Akatsuki: Yet they deliberately contacted me later. And they're telling me to come and get the clue.

(...Indeed, I wonder if there's some intention behind it.)

Basil: Well, Prince Azel also apologized for that.

Basil: He said, "I accidentally forgot to tell you."

Akatsuki: .............

Akatsuki: In the first place, I don't have time to go get it for a while.

(I'm sure he has appointments to meet with his clients after this.)

(...But I think the information about the book is something the Owner desperately wants...)

(It might be rude to refuse the goodwill of a God.)

(Alright, this is where the assistant comes in.)

I raise my hand and volunteer to the Owner, who has a grim expression on his face.

Emma: Shall I go and get it?

-

Azel: My apologies… I am truly sorry.

Prince Azel warmly welcomed me when I visited his residence with Basil and Kamal, after parting ways with the Owner.

The way he emerged from the building with such perfect timing, as if he had foreseen everything, made me truly believe that he possesses some extraordinary power.

Azel: Thank you for your hard work, you two. Please bring the luggage inside.

Basil was frozen with his eyes sparkling, saying "H-huh..." Kamal grabbed him and pulled him inside.

(Now it's just the two of us.)

Emma: I've come on behalf of the Owner. I heard that you would give me a clue about the book...

Azel: Yes. I will give you a map.

Prince Azel turns his back to me and starts walking.

His eyes urge me to "follow me," so I follow him, but he's fast.

(Are his legs long, or is he just unusually fast...!)

I desperately chase after him, and as I follow Prince Azel through the uniquely shaped entrance---

Emma: ………… Huh?

I stop involuntarily, blink a few times, and pinch my cheeks.

It hurt like normal.

Azel: What's wrong?

Emma: No...

(Wh... what's going on here!?)

It was a shock, as if I had stepped into another world.

Unlike the weathered exterior walls, the interior was so neatly maintained that it didn't feel like it had 1000 years of history, and there was no sign of the precariousness that made it seem like it was about to collapse.

It's hard to say it was a brand new building, but the description of a "castle" truly suited it.

(I initially thought it was a solitary castle in the desert, and maybe I wasn't far off.)

Emma: The atmosphere is quite different from the exterior.

Azel: Of course, I can't just live in a 1000-year-old building as it is.

Azel: It's under major renovation right now.

Azel: The right side is mostly finished with renovations, so there's no problem, but the left side has partially collapsed.

Azel: If you happen to walk around here, never go to the left side.

Azel: If you do happen to enter it–

Emma: ...If I do?

Azel: Hehe.

(I'll be careful not to accidentally wander in there.)

Azel: Please be careful where you step.

Prince Azel goes up the stairs and proceeds to the right.

While chasing after him at a running pace, I casually glance to the left, and even though the sun should be directly overhead, it seems like a dim darkness lingers there.

(...I wonder if it's because the renovations aren't finished yet.)

After passing through the entrance hall, there's a corridor, which is also beautifully repaired.

At the end of the corridor where Prince Azel strode purposefully, there was a door.

Azel: Now, please come in.

Even though I was out of breath, I entered through the open door without a shred of suspicion... and found myself not in a guest room, but a kitchen.

(...Why?)

In the tidy room, the large amount of luggage that Basil had been carrying was carelessly placed. As I picked up a fruit that had rolled out of a bag, question marks popped up in my mind one after another.

Emma: Prince Azel... is the map in the kitchen?

Azel: Of course not, you idiot.

(!?)

(What? I just heard him speak like a different person...)

The door slams shut.

Prince Azel leaned against the closed door, blocking my escape route, and the corners of his mouth lifted.

Azel: Now, it's time for collection.

Emma: C-collection?

Azel: Here you go.

A letter, seemingly produced from thin air, is thrust in front of me.

Emma: This is...

I rub my eyes and look again.

No matter how many times I look at it, I can only read it as a "divination fee invoice."

Moreover, the numbers lined up on it were of an exorbitant amount that I had never seen before.

Emma: ...Is this addressed to me?

Azel: Yes, it's addressed to you.

Emma: I'm sorry, but I don't recall this.

Azel: Don't tell me you thought a God's divination was free?

Emma: ...Eh?

Azel: Wow, how rude. Don't underestimate me, okay?

(The divination from yesterday, it wasn't free!?)

I hurriedly pulled myself together as my senses started to fade.

Emma: But you said it was a thank you gift...!

Azel: There are many people who want to receive my divination but can't.

Azel: The thank you gift is the "right to receive divination."

Emma: You didn't say a word about that!

Azel: Well, it's common sense.

Emma: I don't know any such common sense!

Azel: Don't blame your ignorance on me.

(This is a scammer's tactic!?)

The me of yesterday, who thought he was a merciful and kind God – it seems I was seeing an illusion.

(Maybe this is his true nature.)

*flashback*

Clavis: But it's surprising. You're the current "Belle," and you're good at seeing through people's true nature, right?

Clavis: ...No, that's not right. Or rather, is it that impression precisely because you "saw through" it?

Clavis: Hmm, very interesting. I wonder if it's me who's seeing the illusion, or you.

*back to present*

(–That's what he meant. How pathetic of me, even though I'm Belle.)

Azel: Ah, but please rest assured. I'm not so cruel as to say "pay now."

Azel: We have two payment methods available: cash or labor.

(I can't feel assured at all.)

Azel: You don't seem to have any money, do you?

Azel: To repay this amount, you'll have to work like a slave...

Azel: Good luck.

His benevolent smile fueled my anger.

(Everyone's been deceived.)

(This person is not a merciful God at all. Rather...)

Emma: You, evil God!

Azel: Oh my, are those insults? As expected, a foreign girl is quite spirited.

Azel: But you see...

As I glared at him, Prince Azel grabbed my chin with his large hand–

Azel: Shall I show you what happens if you defy me?

.

.

.

Letter

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[characteranalyst]

Phayu Character Analysis : The Man With a Borrowed Halo and One Foot in Hell

“My brother is far from simple, you’ll get burned if you don’t know how to play with fire” - Saifah

Gather round LITA obsessed children for an in depth analysis of our resident Daddy Dom Brat Tamer Phayu who Christian Grey wished he was and tried to be. You either hate him, love him, want to be him or all of the above.

I know PhayuRain’s arc seems like on the surface just a fluffy little romance with no need for lengthy think pieces.  But I’m obsessed with their dynamic and I could not let the hyper-fixation pass before doing a character analysis. Phayu haunts the periphery of dreams and I am hoping that this analysis will help me exorcise this beautiful spectre so I can finally know peace.

As much as I would genuinely love to crack open his skull and unspool all of his thoughts and motivations I cannot do that. So disclaimer obviously this will just be conjecture and my opinion and I am going to try and stick as closely as possible to canon and refrain from falling into head canon territory.

I have read Love Storm but I’m only going to be referencing how Phayu behaves in the series because I prefer that version of him. Also this is going to be a very LONGGGG post. I have many thoughts on this man. Feel free to skim through or save it to read for some other time.

I am mainly going to be speaking about the main character traits that I have observed from him and how he relates to the rest of the characters in the series. I think I am going to make a separate analysis of his dynamic with Rain because going in depth with that would be too much for me to mention here. 

Alright let’s get into it.

(1) EARLY CHILDHOOD AND YOUNG ADULTHOOD

We are given little to no information on his childhood and or young adulthood. What we do know is that his parents left him and Saifah an incredible house and the luxury garage so we can assume that they weren’t strapped for cash.  

Him and Saifah seem like two relatively well adjusted young men so I guess we can assume that there was little to no childhood trauma. In episode 6 during their pillow talk Phayu tells Rain that his parents are off living in Korat and enjoying their lives, I’m assuming. So I guess they’re not divorced. So he has no ‘separated parents’ trauma to deal with.

The only thing that gives us a little insight into how his childhood affected who he became as a person was when he told Rain the story of how his mother always used to argue with his father about how he could fix bikes beautifully but he could not build a house for them.

So Phayu decided that he was going to ensure that he was able to fulfil both by becoming a mechanic and an architect. I think from this we can conclude that Phayu is an overachiever and this displays his seemingly constant need to be perfect and the best.

I think this may also come from a child’s instinctual need to please their caretakers and make them proud. Phayu also seems like someone who has had a Type A personality from birth. In contrast to Saifah who seems like a little more laid back more go with the flow type.

From this little snippet of information we can also assume that his affinity for being a mechanic was either inherited from his father or taught to him and Saifah.

In conclusion it’s safe to say that Phayu does not really seem to have any trauma to speak of, he's just kinky.  I like the fact he doesn’t have any heavy trauma or unsavoury character traits (well I take this back he’s a little pushy and manipulative) he needs to get over. There is beauty in this simplicity where as a result, the majority of the narrative is focused on Phayu Rain falling in love with each other.

(2)   PHAYU AND HIS AIR OF MYSTERY (DR JEYKLL AND MR HYDE)

One thing that stood out to me when we as an audience were introduced to Phayu was his air of mystery. Everyone knows of him of course because he has been knighted as the God of the faculty of architecture.  But we see quickly that very few people actually know him personally. We can see how this fact plays out in the series through the following examples:

Pun says that she has no idea what kind of business Phayu runs but it's ok because she likes a man with a little mystery. (Episode 1)

Phayu refuses to tell Rain what he likes to eat on their first date because he says that Rain has to know him a lot longer before he can ‘snoop for information’ as he puts it. (Episode 3)

Phayu shares only a little information about his life with his senior Mhok before abruptly cutting the conversation short so as to not reveal too much information about his personal life. (Episode 4)

Phayu only reveals deep information about himself and his parents and childhood to Rain after their second time during pillow talk. (Episode 6)

He also doesn’t really seem to have close friends except for Prapai and Saifah. I don’t really think Saifah counts because he’s more of an unwilling captive because they have to share everything that their parents left them. I really don’t think they would even be friends if they weren’t brothers honestly because of their differing personalities. 

I think this ability to guard what he reveals to people helps maintain his mystique. There needs to be a certain level of distance and holding people at arm’s length that needs to take place in order for people to project their fantasies onto him and build him up as some sort of God among men.

I think the reason people idolise Phayu and like him so much is because they like the idea of him rather than the reality of him. I think if more people knew who he actually was in reality, they would be put off by how intense he is.

Rain seems like the only person who had become disillusioned with the idea of Phayu. After the debacle in Episode 1 he sees Phayu not as his ‘cool handsome big bike bro” but as a pushy piece of shit bastard that tried to assault him. I also think some of his anger towards Phayu had to do with him being confused by his feelings for him;  creating a cocktail of confusion for poor Rain to sort out. So he was able to view Phayu as a person and not place him on a pedestal like other people do.

I think this is what PhayuRain’s relationship needed to flourish as well because Phayu needs someone who is able to challenge him. We are well aware of how much he loves brats. The worshipful gaze of Som and Pun would not be satisfactory for him because they had him on a pedestal and were blinded by their idea of him so they would readily submit to him without much push back.

He needed someone with a backbone who could engage in a sort of push and pull relationship with him and our adorable little firecracker Rain was the perfect match. Phayu has people falling at his feet daily; he was in need of much more excitement than that.

Like the story of the titular character Dr.Jekyll a well-respected scientist who used his alter ego Mr.Hyde to delve into the darker side of science without repentance or taking responsibility; Phayu has that same sort of duality. I think Phayu keeps his kinky side under wraps and he’s very careful about whom he shows that part of himself to. Presumably only his lovers or potential lovers get to see his ‘bad side’.

So his DR JEKYLL would be, so to speak,the Phayu that is seen as a smart, capable, polite, helpful and well-adjusted young man, loved by all and sought after by many. This is the Phayu that would leave a random stranger his set square with an encouraging message about his future in architecture.

On the flip side his MR HYDE would be Dom Daddy Brat Tamer Phayu with a penchant for sadism and degradation.

At the end of the day both sides come together to make up who Phayu is as a person and there is nothing inherently wrong with his Mr. Hyde as long as he is able to channel it and engage with it safely with willing participants. Fortunately for him, he has Rain for that.

(3) WONKY MORAL COMPASS BUT STRINGENT PERSONAL RULES 

I really had a hard time dissecting this part. But I have come to the conclusion that Phayu deserves to be labelled as a morally grey or morally ambiguous person. I really have a soft spot for morally grey characters in media or literature. 

It makes the narrative far more interesting to follow. In real life however I would run in the opposite direction and call the police. But this isn’t supposed to be real, it's supposed to be a fantasy so I’m not going to go too much in depth about Phayu’s moral failings. This show doesn’t take itself too seriously so I’m not going to either.

Phayu is not a ‘nice’ person plain and simple and he knows it, contrary to Pun’s expository gushing in the first episode of the show when she refers to him as “super-duper nice”. After the spanking incident in Episode 2 (which was wild now that I think of it) where Rain declares that he is going to make him fall in love with him he says to himself;

 “You’re going to make me fall in love with you but do you know what kind of man I am.”

I think Phayu says this because he knows himself thoroughly the good, the bad and the ugly. Phayu has overcome himself. He has recognized all his shortcomings, all his base desires, all his lowliness, all the self-imposed restraints he places upon himself and overcome them. 

Phayu also strikes me as someone who has engaged with his shadow self and explored the parts of his psyche that most of us would repress and compartmentalise because we are too ashamed of our darkness to engage with it.

He has looked his darkness in the face and come to terms with it. That is why he says, "Do you know what kind of man I am?", because he understands people’s perception of him lies in stark contrast to his unsavoury character traits.

I also think his dabbling in BDSM has given him the room and space to conduct such exploration of himself in a safe, sane and consensual way. I think the nature of BDSM can afford people an outlet to engage with their own darkness and sort through it so that it doesn’t manifest in their life in other ways.

In Episode 1 we see where Prapai likens him to the devil (jokingly) but under every joke there is definitely some truth. If Prapai is calling him that it must be the truth because as we know Prapai looks like his only close friend.

We can assume that Prapai is incredibly familiar with Phayu’s Mr. Hyde as we can presume that they know each other very well so his assessment of dubbing Phayu as a devil must be accurate. 

Also head canon (I know I said I was going to refrain from going into head canon territory but please indulge me a bit) I’m sure they’ve fucked before in a bro-ish kind of way. I mean their both hot and bi and Prapai’s a sub in top’s clothing (I know Dom/sub and top/bottom are two separate things just enjoy the joke you know what I mean)  so it’s not far fetched to think they would have at some time fucked around a bit. 

Although I know Phayu is hardly the correct type of Dom for Prapai’s specific brand of subbiness. The point is I think that Prapai would be privy to Phayu’s true nature and how much of a little shit he can be when he isn’t using his powers for good.

In Episode 5 Saifah, the only other person we see having a close relationship with Phayu refers to him as a Devil as well.

I just know these two have witnessed some shit over the years of knowing Phayu that warranted him being referred to as a Devil.

Discussing Phayu’s moral code is very weird because it’s obvious that he doesn’t really adhere to a normal set of rules. We can assume he’s not particularly religious because it wasn’t mentioned.

I think Phayu is very domineering and kind of manipulative but at the same time he commands an air of respect. He is not necessarily what you would expect from someone who is so widely lauded as an exemplary person.

What also struck me about Phayu was the fact although his moral code seems a little flexible he has a few hard and fast non-negotiable rules that may seem arbitrary to someone like Rain but to him it may as well be gospel. 

One of these rules in the show is seen where we see he has a big thing for respect. We see an example of this when he calls Rain after he picks up his car from the garage and he tells Rain that only ill-mannered boys don’t greet the owner of the house when they stop by. He also ends the call by telling Rain to be respectful. We also see his thing for rules when he tells Rain that he doesn’t like ill-mannered boys and that he should address him as P’Phayu emphasising the use of honorifics.

Phayu is also a man of his word in Episode 7 when Rain tells Phayu that he will unleash his wrath on him if he ever cheats on him. Phayu just laughs and says he will never let Rain down. He holds true to this in the Special Episode when Rain accuses him of cheating on him with Natsu he utters the same sentiment that he promised to never let Rain down. This man looked absolutely horrified at the accusation like he wouldn’t even dream of it.

I think his strict adherence to rules other than him being a Dom could also be influenced by his exposure and affiliation with the likes of P’Pakin and P’Chai.  He knows that there will be dire consequences if the rules aren’t strictly adhered to. This is why he curses Stop for mentioning the race in public and he reprimands Rain for thoughtlessly wandering into the illegal street race without permission to be there.

BUT ON THE FLIP SIDE

He’s so stringent about ensuring that Rain is polite and respectful but he thinks it’s perfectly fine to tamper with Rain’s car so that he would have an excuse to be his knight in shining armour and save him so they could hook up. The math is not mathing at all. I know he’s an experienced mechanic and he wouldn’t have tampered with anything that would have led Rain getting in an accident and getting injured but still. WEIRD BEHAVIOUR KHUN PHAYU!!!!!! Also don’t even get me started on him using the debt of fixing Rain’s car as some weird way to stalk him??? RED FLAGGGGGG!! His methods of courtship definitely need some fine tuning. 

In conclusion his contradictory moral code gives me whiplash trying to figure out where on the scale from angel to devil I should place him. But I think he’s just human. No one is all good and all bad and I think that Mame writes very human raw characters that make you feel something. I’ll give credit where credit is due.

(4) AN EERIE LEVEL OF SELF CONTROL AND THE PATIENCE OF A SAINT 

This man probably never has New Year’s Resolutions because he’s already operating at optimal condition. Phayu is portrayed to be quite literally always in control. The only time he looks undone is after THAT SCENE in Episode 6.

We see this self-control manifest in the way he makes love to Rain in a very formulaic, worshipful and almost performative manner. Gently throwing Rain’s head back, holding his hands down and caging his body. Rain responds in kind to his dominance by always baring his throat in submission and allowing his body to go lax under Phayu’s ministrations.

It’s so gentle but he’s still being dominant and in control. While Rain always looks halfway between heaven and earth during these scenes Phayu always seems wholly present and tethered to earth (like a good Dom should be) creating a space in which his precious sub can feel safe enough to fly out of this stratosphere.

The subtlety with which he maintains control makes me absolutely feral. There is hardly any jostling or manhandling but it’s still forceful. I think a great example of the subtlety of how Phayu displays his dominance can be seen in the PhayuRain make-out scene in Episode 5.

The natural way he cages Rain’s neck to control the flow of the kiss.

The way he stop kissing Rain when Rain tries to lead and he put a finger to his lips in a way that almost screams “Relax I’m in charge here.”

Unlike our donut firecracker Rain (my sweet boy) that was ready to scrap at the first sign of disrespect, Phayu seems like he is not one to resort to violence if they could sort it out by just talking and coming to an amicable solution.

We can see an example of this where Phayu refused to be baited by Stop into fighting with him even though Stop was about to punch him at the night racing circuit in the beginning of Episode 6.

Also before the race between him and Stop where Stop was trying to rile him up. He was able to remain level headed while Stop immediately lost his cool and tried to fight him once again when Phayu insulted him.

I’m assuming this self-control is more nature than nurture. It seems like he is the type to have always been calm and self-contained. He doesn’t need to bark loudly because his competence and self-assuredness speaks volumes. 

He quite literally doesn’t yell often he just uses that husky dom voice. The only time he ever really raised his voice was when he was shouting at Rain in Episode 2 when he was worried that he could have gotten killed for sneaking into the illegal street circuit race.

The thing about dominance and control that I think people like Stop with fragile egos get wrong is that they think it comes from a place of aggression, peacocking and forcing people to bow to your will. This is however not the sort of dominance that will truly gain you respect and have people willingly obey you.

Phayu’s dominance and control comes from a place of nurturing and caring and people only defer to him and his authority because he has proven time and time again that he is capable of shouldering the responsibility of what this control entails and he has consequently gained their respect because of it.

(5) PRIDE GOES BEFORE A FALL 

No matter how level headed he is and self-control he possesses he’s still a man and he has been socialised to exist as a man. So he’s not above engaging in a motorcycle race with an asshole like Stop to prove a point and because of his pride.

I like how this moment humanised Phayu and showed how no matter how above petty human emotions he seems, he’s still liable to fall victim to making decisions based on ego.

However, I like that he was self-aware enough to realise that he was indeed only participating in this race because of his pride because he says to Rain when he tries to stop him some things just don’t have an explanation. 

We can contrast him racing Stop because of his pride and him kneeling before Stop and crawling to save Rain from being hurt. Although he has an ego he was more than willing to put pride aside to ensure Rain’s safety.

(SIDENOTE- I died watching the kidnapping ordeal in episode 7 that shit was so unserious. The picture of Rain that Stop sent Phayu lives in my head rent free and I cackle from time to time because of it.) 

(6) “P’PHAYU LHOR MAKKKKK!” – Pun  (PRETTY PRIVILEGE AND THE HALO EFFECT)

Physical appearance is often a major part of the halo effect. People who are considered attractive tend to be rated higher as possessing positive traits in contrast to people who aren’t considered conventionally attractive.

I think beauty can be blinding and make people more willing to overlook people’s misgivings. As the halo effect states people are more likely to project good qualities on to people they deem to be conventionally attractive.

As I said when I was addressing his air of mystery; because people are so predisposed to projecting all these good qualities on Phayu the distance and the space that he creates between him and other people can be filled with these projections and good qualities so that they build him up in their minds as this amazing person.

This man radiates and secretes ungodly amounts of sex appeal without trying. So I think his general attractiveness is one of the reasons as well why Rain had a hard time getting people to believe that Phayu was a pushy manipulative little asshole in the beginning.

Do I think Phayu would have commanded the same level of respect that he does without also being pretty? I don’t know to be honest. I do however think Phayu is an unintentional cautionary tale about the dangers of projecting good qualities on someone just because they’re attractive and being blind to their faults.

(7) SELF ASSURED, CONFIDENT AND CHARMING – CONCEITED?

I mean I’d be that confident too if I was rich, handsome, talented, smart ANDDDDD could fuck like a porn star but I digress. Very much a quiet confidence to him as was elaborated on when I spoke about the air of mystery. He is evidently very capable and consequently people rely on him and I think his self- assuredness comes from the fact that he can back up his claims because he has every right to be self-centred.

Without mincing words this man is very conceited. However although he is conceited he doesn’t lack empathy and he doesn’t seem too self-involved as evidenced by the way he ensures that he takes care of the people he cares about.

(8) PHAYU THE COMPULSIVE CARETAKER, CONCEITED BUT NOT SELF-INVOLVED

We see in Episode 4 how Phayu puts Rain’s needs before his by ensuring that Rain focuses on his school work and ensures that his development and advancement as a person comes before pursuing a romantic relationship with Phayu.

He ensures that Rain understands how slacking on his work in pursuance of other things will affect his work life and he lectures him while still comforting him after. I really liked this scene in Episode 3 because Phayu is able to help Rain because he’s older and more experienced and he’s gone through it before. I also like the fact that there isn’t a hint of condescension in his voice, just concern and wanting to ensure that Rain becomes the best version of himself.

Phayu shows how much he cares about Rain and is invested in making Rain a priority in his life in so many little ways. We can see in Episode 5 how Phayu leaves an important meeting to answer Rain’s text messages. Also in Episode 4 When Rain finishes his project early after an all-nighter and instead of sleeping he goes straight to Phayu. Phayu ensures that there is reciprocity in their relationship by saying that you missed out on sleep to come see me, so I'm going to hurry up and finish my work so we can hang out.

He makes an effort to help Rain finish his models like he promised to do in his speech in Episode 5. Also in Episode 4 he apologises to Rain for his phone dying and for making him wait for him in the rain. In Episode 6 after he almost gets in a fight with Stop the first thing he does is ask Rain if he’s alright even though he was the one that almost had a brawl with Stop.

I think we really see throughout the show how the way Phayu interacts with Rain takes on a sort of paternalistic tinge. The title of Daddy is incredibly fitting and I really just think this is him being a good Dom.

That’s why I think this is the reason Phayu looks so touched and taken aback when Rain and him first meet and he holds the umbrella for Phayu while he’s changing his tire. Phayu’s so used to being relied on and being assumed to be competent and well put together. He’s used to giving without expecting anything in return. So when Rain does this small act of kindness in an effort to repay this Good Samaritan, Phayu becomes fascinated with him. 

(9) ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS B.R. (Before Rain)

Was he possibly a whore? Not as much of a whore as Prapai but he has definitely spun the block. Whereas our beloved service top Prapai has built a gated community in which he resides on said block. Phayu had a condom stashed under that toy car so we know he was getting some action.

He was probably not a whore whore because as he said to Rain in the bathroom scene:

We all know why he’s particular. I don’t think he would have been able to find a lot of people willing to put up with his domineering attitude and controlling nature long term if they didn’t have that sort of kink no matter how insanely hot he is.

But there were definitely others before Rain if we can take cues from the offhanded comments of the other characters in the series. Saifah tells Rain in Episode 3 when he’s waiting for Phayu that there were others before him. Was it a lot of others though? The world may never know.

Saifah comments on the fact that Phayu has been single for a long time and Saifah tells him if he wants to be happy like him he should get in a serious relationship. So we can assume that long term romantic relationships for Phayu have more than likely been few and far between. He probably was not celibate though as we see how he was going to have a one night stand with Rain.

We see Saifah saying that he feels bad for whoever is making Phayu smile like that and how he warns him not to be too mean to Rain because he will run away. We can assume that others have been perturbed by how intense Phayu was in the past and they have run off.

I’m sure Saifah knows Phayu very well and even if he isn’t aware of the details of his kinkiness he knows Phayu has a thing about control and a mean streak. At least that’s what Saifah computes it as in his vanilla mind. I’m sure this poor man has heard and seen way too much. JUSTICE FOR SAIFAHH!!!!!!

Lastly before they get together Phayu constantly tests Rain to see if he can handle what a long term relationship with him would look like. I’m sure this comes from things not working out in the past and Phayu wanting to ensure that Rain can handle him.

We can see that Phayu may have abandonment issues from things not working out in the past with his romantic pursuits when in Episode 5 he’s scared and panicked and sad when Rain runs away after they have sex for the first time. I have three theories about this:

(1) He didn’t want to lose Rain because he’s a unicorn and he may never have hope of finding someone so perfect for him again.  

(2) He was abandoned before because he was too much and overbearing and it triggered him.

(3) He’s big on communication and he feels slighted that Rain ran away before they could discuss how their relationship would develop after they had sex for the first time.

It could have quite possibly been a combination of all of the above. Phayu seems like the type to be fully invested in a long term relationship and he seems like someone who loves deeply so I think him testing Rain was him just trying to ensure that Rain was worth the investment before he got too attached.

(10) PHAYU THE SCULPTOR ; HIS OBSESSION WITH POTENTIAL AND MOULDING THINGS TO HIS LIKING 

“Rain before you design a house you need to design your life first”- Phayu

I get the impression that Phayu’s view on life is that everything can be curated and tailored to his liking if he tries hard enough. He’s definitely not a go with the flow kind of person. Every single move he makes is intentional. Looking at his two professions being an architect and his side of job of being a mechanic; these are two things that require moulding, precision.

Architects are able to create and design and bring their vision to life and make it tangible. It’s a very creative profession with the added bonus of having something you designed realised in real life.

Also mechanics are constantly tinkering with engines and in control of powerful machinery. Whether they work on maintenance, diagnostics, or repairs, they have to perform those tasks with exacting detail. That is because this careful work on important vehicle components could save someone’s life.

This speaks to Phayu’s pedantic nature with the added element of not wanting to deal with the consequences of disappointing Pakin. These machines are kind of like a puzzle to be solved.

But the catch is those things aren’t really his and they don’t truly belong to him.

In Episode 3 we can infer that sometimes clients may criticize his designs and he has to mould it to their liking instead of relying on his own vision.

In Episode 1 Prapai tells him your babies are so beautiful (referring to the motorcycles) but Phayu corrects him and says that they don’t belong to him.

But I think that although he doesn’t own these things and that he may be required to tailor the design of a house to someone else’s liking still these tasks scratch his itch for moulding and creating.

Then *enter stage left* a wild Rain appears, a blank canvas unmarred by past sexual or romantic experience. He has no expectations and no idea how anything works so he’s able to become a sort of pliable clay that Phayu can use his deft fingers to mold to his liking consequently making Rain his.

We can are shown how their relationship is mutually beneficial and how it works for them. Different folks have different strokes.

The glint in his eyes and the way Phayu all but shivers in excitement every time Rain tells him he can’t do something. 

Episode 4 – "I’ll teach you"

Episode 6- "I'll train you to be the best rider"

In the infamous Daddy scene in the special episode he says "When I teach I teach to the core" 

It’s not explicitly stated but I’m sure this man got off constantly at the fact that he was Rain’s first everything when it came to sex and romance and he is constantly in charge of moulding him.

We can definitely see how much of a diligent student and quick learner Rain is and how Phayu is consequently able to enjoy the fruits of his labour. (SIDE NOTE: I’m sure Phayu wasn’t prepared for the monster he created in Rain.)

I love the reciprocity in their relationship as Phayu shows Rain just how desired he is and worships him constantly.

(11) WHY HE WAS DEFINITELY A KID WHO HATED SHARING HIS TOYS 

Phayu strikes me as a man who knows exactly what he wants and  how to obtain it and when he finds it he will hold on to it and never let it go. We are given countless examples of Phayu’s blatant possessiveness over Rain once they begin their unorthodox courtship.

When after their first time Phayu says to Rain that he must repeat the phrase “Rain belongs to P’Phayu.”back to him.

This man heard that Pun was in Rain’s general vicinity and immediately drove to him to stake his claim. Also when he admits to being “insanely jealous” of Pun ever since he heard that Rain used to have a romantic interest in her.

He removes Saifah’s hand from Rain’s shoulder in Episode 4 and tells him to get back to work after Saifah suggests that he could teach Rain how to ride a super bike.

I do think this possessiveness is also in part because Phayu realises how much of a rare find Rain is and he will do everything in his power to ensure that they stay together forever. I also think in contrast, Rain’s possessiveness has more to do with him constantly having to fight off potential suitors because everyone is in love with Phayu (well the idea of him). 

I appreciate however that his possessiveness isn’t portrayed as particularly toxic because in episode 5 when Phayu is having lunch with Sky and Rain and Rain tells Sky he loves him after he told him that Phayu and him were dating.

Instead of getting unreasonable jealous of Rain and Sky’s obviously platonic relationship, Phayu simply says that he has no reason to be jealous because he knows that Sky and Rain are just friends.

I think if they ever decided on venturing out and engaging in a threesome it would 100% be Rain’s idea in order to satiate his own curiosity. Phayu would go along with it (ever indulgent of his sweet boy) but he would probably have to be in control the entire time while simultaneously barking orders at the third party about how to pleasure Rain properly.

(12) THE SADISTIC  LITTLE SHIT (AFFECTIONATE) AND HIS “DEK NGO”  "DEK NARAK"

I know PhayuRain and their kink list is longer than the elevator ride to hell but I’m going to focus on what in my opinion is Phayu’s poison of choice. That is sadism and degradation.

More specifically emotional and psychological sadism mostly. I don’t think he’s particularly opposed to physical sadism though. In the special episode he said he punished Rain until he was sore but Rain liked it. Although this is vague and he could have been sore for different reasons we see in Episode 2 when Phayu is berating Rain for breaking into the illegal race that isn’t above spanking Rain.

I don’t really know for sure if Rain is a masochist though I think he is definitely willing to try things with Phayu but he didn’t really seem to enjoy the spanking but I guess that was mostly because they didn’t know each other that well.

So I think while Phayu is mainly an emotional sadist and he prefers it he partakes in physical sadism with Rain because I think Rain would prefer that more based on his personality. This is mainly because of his obvious praise kink.

(CC: Rain’s blissed out expression when Phayu whispered “keng mak” i.e. “Good job” in his ear in the bathroom stall scene after Rain had followed his instructions.)

So the degradation that comes along with emotional sadism may not be Rain’s cup of tea.

After the incident in Episode 3 where Phayu told Rain to change ‘ngo’ to ‘narak’ ; I think he realised how insecure Rain was about being called stupid and that this was a hard limit for Rain. We can see as the story progress after this incident where Phayu either calls him “naughty boy” or some version of good boy.

I do think that this is an example of how Phayu is willing to tailor and transform his kinks and compromise to ensure that Rain is comfortable. He realised that Rain responds far better to praise and made the necessary adjustments.

We also see Phayu’s penchant for degradation and humiliation in  Episode 3 where he buys Rain extra small underwear. Although they were the correct size for Rain, Phayu had to throw  in a little dick size shaming for his own amusement. The smug little smile after he riles Rain up about this speaks for itself. 

However I wanted to fight him when he made my baby Rain cry in episode 5 after he made Rain think that he didn’t want to be with him anymore. Although I kind of feel like this was sort of more punishment for the fact that Rain ran off after their first time in Episode 4 and made him worry. I guess it’s safe to add dacryphilia to their long ass kink list. Phayu you sadistic little shit. 

If we also listen to the words of Phayu in his little speech before they make out in episode 5, I swear the only thing missing from this was Phayu getting down on one knee and proposing to Rain. 

He says:

We can see that he enjoys this and gets off on being the one to tease and degrade Rain. He knows Rain’s limits and he ensures that he follows up any degradation with praise as a  salve to any open wounds he’s caused with his words. I think Rain eventually adapts to this part of Phayu however because in Episode 7 he tells Phayu that he is willing to let Phayu tease him forever. 

I love how they are both willing to adapt and compromise to better serve each other’s needs. Phayu constantly keeps Rain off kilter constantly guessing, constantly teasing him but at the same time he ensures that Rain understands that Phayu loves him and he is valued.

Phayu is constantly and reflexively adjusting himself to meet Rain's needs from moment to moment and I applaud him for it. Good job Daddy you get a gold star for all your hard work.

(13) PHAYU THE INVENTOR OF HEALTHY COMMUNICATION

This definitely has to be one of my favourite things about Phayu. I’m sure Rain isn’t the first person Phayu has attempted to have some sort of D/s relationship with and at the core of this is communication, consent and boundaries. 

D/s relationships especially 24/7 ones involve copious amounts of consent and negotiation and communication but I know that the show couldn’t necessarily explicitly address the fact that they are in a 24/7 D/s relationship so we don’t get any sit down moments where Phayu and Rain discuss it blatantly. However I would assume that at some point Phayu sat Rain down and explained to him what their dynamic is and what was expected of him.

We definitely see how much Phayu values communication in the Special Episode when Rain misreads a situation. Where he sees Phayu talking to Natsu on the couch in Phayu’s home. I mean to be fair sparks were flying between them. I don’t know  if that was just a Boss thing because good God this man can generate sexual tension with a  wall. (Went off on a tangent there moving on back to communication.)

I think that Phayu understands that Rain has a sort of inferiority complex that is made worse by people being constantly baffled as to how Rain ended up with a guy like Phayu. Rain also most likely due to immaturity and lack of life experience has a problem with communication and conflict resolution. 

Phayu has to drag the confession out of Rain about why he’s upset with him. We see where this man has quite literally done nothing wrong yet still he gets on his knees to apologise and tries to make it up to Rain. 

I love that Phayu possesses the maturity to  never allow misunderstandings to remain unaddressed and fester. Although Rain may lack the maturity to speak up and directly tell Phayu what is bothering him in any given situation, Phayu ensures that they talk it out so that their conflicts do not go unresolved and that resentment does not have the opportunity to set in. 

(14) PHAYU SEX & SEXUALITY 

Phayu is an unapologetically shameless and sexual person. This comfortability in his sexuality and his lack of preoccupation with other people's opinion of him allows him to exude a calm self assurance and striking sex appeal subconsciously. 

This comfortability with his own sexuality was displayed many times throughout the series. In Episode 3 when that are at the porridge shop and Phayu goads Rain into being unashamed of the fact that they were in public and on a date with each other.

In Episode 5 after Rain told Sky that he was dating Phayu he said he was happy that Rain told his best friend about them because he understands that he would be apprehensive in case Sky would start to see him differently. I like that he lets Rain come out on his own time and he doesn’t rush him. Lastly in Episode 6 Phayu proudly introduces Rain as his boyfriend to P’ Chai at the street race. 

Phayu is a readymade character who has presumably gone through the stage in his life where he would have explored his sexuality and unusual proclivities and has come to the point of acceptance. I think that is why he is portrayed as someone who knows exactly what he likes and enjoys and is unashamed of it.

This is why he seems to be such a safe place for Rain to explore the full spectrum of his own sexuality.  There is never any judgement in Phayu's eyes when they uncover another one of Rain’s off the walls kinks. We just see at most a sort of mild amusement and an instant willingness to acquiesce and indulge Rain.

Phayu being out and proud made Rain feel like it was ok to have these feelings so his apprehension about identifying as such quickly dissipated.He’s constantly willing to teach, indulge and hold Rain’s hand through this journey and I just think that’s so neat. 

Everyone deserves to have a safe place like Phayu when dipping their toes in and navigating the troubled unpredictable waters of sex and sexuality especially when coming to terms with their own queerness. 

WHAT IS PHAYU’S MAIN MOTIVATION THAT UNDERSCORES EVERYTHING SINGLE ACTION THAT HE TAKES?

The simple answer to this is control. This is important because I don’t see Phayu as someone who particularly chases after power but control? Yes most definitely.Power is the ability to make something happen. Control is the ability to make something happen the way you want. We are all created differently but Phayu needs control at all times in the same way we need oxygen to survive. It’s just the way his wires were crossed. 

Phayu could have easily just admitted to Rain on their first meeting that he remembered him and he could have left it to chance how their encounter would have gone. He could have also gone through the Prapaiesque route and  just pursued Rain himself. 

But he was different; he made sure that he was in control of  their dynamic from the very beginning. The aforementioned options left far too many variables that could have thrown a wrench in Phayu’s end game which was getting Rain. 

He even somehow managed to get Rain to pursue him and have him think that it was his idea. Even though he was the one who liked Rain from the very beginning.

This desperate all-consuming need to be in control at all times is tempered by Phayu’s ability to adequately shoulder the responsibility that comes with that control. Everything he does is calculated. There is always an end goal. Consequently he thrives and is most content when he has someone like Rain to be in charge of in a sense.

The contentment and ease that seems to overtake Phayu when he and Rain are in an established relationship is a sight to see. He’s no longer untethered; he's firm and grounded.

CHARACTER’S RELATIONSHIP TO THE PLOT

There isn’t too much angst and the denouement/final conflict just concerns external factors and has nothing to do with Phayu Rain’s romantic relationship

The plot is just romance; from the meet cute in the rain to the established relationship. I love how we just felt like we were along for the ride to watch two men fall irrevocably in love with each other and fit together perfectly like puzzle pieces.

CHARACTER’S GROWTH AND DEVELOPMENT THROUGHOUT THE SERIES

I’m going to be honest I don’t think there was much life altering character growth with Phayu. When we meet Phayu he seems like a fully fleshed out character who knows what he wants and isn’t ashamed of his proclivities and sexuality so there is no room to explore there or for any consequent development. Phayu is a static character with no change in behaviour, and his values and attitudes remain pretty consistent throughout the entirety of the text and the series. 

I don’t think I’m getting over PhayuRain anytime soon. If you got all the way to the end I hope you enjoyed my ramblings. Let me know if you guys have anything to add. The plot as well as the characters in this show were a far cry from perfect but I keep coming back to it so they must have done something right. 

[queenofbaws]

Queenie Queenie Queenie. I come here, on my knees like a silly little court jester, begging and pleading. I would LOVE more CREEPs shenanigans. 🙏🙏🙏

I hope this weekend and week are kind to you, and that you’re having a good day ^^ :D

"I just don't understand how you're already in trouble." Warily, Sam eyed the papers scattered across the table, some colored, some white, all boasting the worst graphic design she'd seen in her life. The semester had started, uh, yesterday, and to see so much busywork - so much wasted printer paper - laid out before the guys...well, it wasn't surprising, maybe, but it sure as heck was confusing.

From just outside the kitchen, Ashley snorted. "I get it. This is kind of a record for them, honestly."

She turned, bewildered. "No way! I - " and then her memories of the past few months came flooding back, one after another after another. Josh hiding blood packs in his clothes, Chris hiding in the shower to jump out and scream during Bloody Mary, Josh loading Ashley up with fake contact lenses and magnetized Ouija boards and...oh boy. " - okay, yeah. On second thought, yeah. I guess I get it."

"Know what I'm hearing from all this?" Chris asked without so much as glancing away from his laptop. "Jealousy. Jell. Us. See. You guys wish you were as funny as we were."

"Oh God. That means you didn't just get in trouble, you got in trouble and then doubled down." With a sigh, Ashley finally joined them in the kitchen, giving the fridge and its colorful magnets a wide, wide, wiiide berth. She hopped up onto one of the countertops, hanging onto the edge as she gently swung her feet. "Why am I not surprised..."

Finally, someone had given Josh the cue he was waiting for. He neatly organized the worksheets in front of him, tapping them on the table to even them all out. "For your information," he began, adopting his most uppity ghost-hunt-announcer-tone, "neither I nor Cochise did anything wrong. Not a damn thing."

"You tell 'em, man. No justice, no peace!"

Sam's eyebrow popped. "Looks like, uh...looks like maybe you did, champ."

But Josh, undaunted, shook his head. "Nope. We've been unjustly accused, and if you think I'm not taking this to the head of the film department at the end of the week, ohoho, you are sorely mistaken. We'll be vindicated in the end."

The girls shared a look that required no words. Then Sam sighed. "What did you do?"

"Again, nothing." Setting his papers down, Josh took on a different posture, folding his hands and leaning in towards Sam as if they were about to share a secret. "Here are the facts. This afternoon, Cochise and I showed up to one of our fancy new classes - "

"Narrative Structure in Television," Chris helpfully added.

" - and discovered we were in the presence of, well, just a real campus celebrity. Tier One kinda guy, know what I mean?"

"Professor Charles Lonnit," Chris piped back in, only for Josh to immediately (and jeeringly) correct him.

"Adjunct Professor Charles Lonnit. He of the shitty daytime tv documentary. Anyway, guy doesn't know what he's doing. Clearly. Definitely doesn't know how to handle a class of people under the age of 47, I'll tell you that much. So what does he do? He commits the gravest sin of a mid-level college course."

That got Chris. He shut his laptop, stared off into nothingness, and proceeded to shudder. "Ice breakers."

"Yeah. Ice breakers."

Sam narrowed her eyes, trying not to laugh; encouraging their behavior, she'd learned, was never the best idea. "Wow. Unthinkable."

"Right? Well, he tells us we're gonna play Two Truths and a Lie, which is already great, right? Fantastic. Definitely no way that can go wrong in a room full of strangers. So, I being who I am - namely the king of showmanship and deception - "

From the counter, Ashley groaned. And groaned. And, when Josh tried talking over her, groaned even louder.

" - didn't even pause. I knew my shit. My three fun facts about myself, then, such as I am, were: (1) My dad's a famous movie director so I'm not too worried about this class, (2) I was once physically assaulted by someone suffering from possession and subsequently broke my tailbone - "

The sound Ashley made from the countertop was a little different that time.

" - aaaaaaand (3) my favorite color is purple." Josh paused for dramatic effect. "It didn't go over well when I revealed my favorite color is actually green, let's leave it at that."

"And you?" Sam asked, leaning on her elbows as she shifted her attention to Chris.

Without a shred of shame, he shrugged, listing off his own facts. "Yeah, see, mine were: (1) I once found a dead guy hidden inside my friend's basement wall, Edgar Allan Poe style, (2) the possessed girl who broke Josh's tailbone is my girlfriend - "

Ashley went back to groaning. When Sam turned her way, she watched as she yanked the brim of her beanie down over her eyes, hiding her face from the world at large.

" - aaand (3) I'm just, like, suuuuuuch a huge fan of Architects of Murder." He paused too, then clarified. "Oh, that's the show the professor makes."

"Adjunct professor," Josh corrected him again.

There was a moment of silence between the four of them, and then Sam's chair screeched as she pushed herself back from the table. "Yeah, yup, you two deserve it," she sighed. "Good luck with your punishment-homework, Ash and I are gonna head out. Find some better friends, maybe. Ones who don't get in trouble the first week of classes."

"First rule of film school, Sammy," Josh teased, "I will not now - nor will I ever - apologize for my art."

[utilitycaster]

I listened to the WBN Fireside on my way to work and there were two things Brennan said, one of which stood out to me as something I really agree with and one of which I really disagree with so I figured I'd make this post (the disagreement one) first and then the agreement one.

The latest episode of WBN had a scene that the characters were not present for nor viewing in any way. It was recorded without their knowledge, though they did listen to it when the episode came out, and on the Fireside Brennan said that such scenes should be used quite sparingly, given the nature of actual play, but (and I apologize, I haven't relistened and the transcripts aren't out) because the antagonists aren't present where the PCs are, it's useful at times to have a scene to keep them in the narrative for the audience.

I firmly disagree. I think that while it's true that actual play has a limited POV (if the characters don't see it, you don't see it), I have, in a lot of actual play fandom, never once seen a situation when it added to the story. Granted, WBN is ongoing, so I may eat my words here, but I am doubtful for a number of reasons.

Speaking as one small fraction of the audience, I am in possession of narrative object permanence. I do not in fact assume that when the PCs are in one part of the world, the rest of it grinds to a halt. In fact, something that skilled GMs do (including, frankly, Brennan himself most of the time) is quietly advance the plans of people who are offscreen. This is also not abnormal for the genre. Lord of the Rings has multiple POVs at different times, but never that of an antagonist; we learn of this through rumors, espionage, and Gandalf's retellings. Sprawling epics like A Song of Ice and Fire or the Stormlight Archives or the Wheel of Time make use of a wide range of third person limited viewpoints as well, not all aligned, but we don't see every move by every faction (and frankly, as a fan of that kind of book...I still think most of them could leave a bit more on the cutting room floor). Limited third person POV is not a weakness of Actual Play; I'd argue it is both a strength and a requirement. The story is driven by the player characters, and they cannot act on something they do not see.*

I'd also add that in this very specific situation, the audience saw the subject of the cutscene, The Man in Black, literally three episodes ago, which was a day ago in-game. He was brought up extensively in the discussion two episodes ago. If someone forgot? That's on them. We have not gone months and months without him making an appearance. I do think it's possible for villains to be poorly developed because they do not cross the paths of the characters enough (this is, as many of the people reading this likely know, a blog that loves to dunk on the cardboard-like nature of Otohan Thull's virtually nonexistent personality and motivations) but The Man in Black is sufficiently a banger of an antagonist as to not be so easily forgotten.

Finally, and this might just be me, but because I know how Actual Play and D&D work, I must admit the second I realized this was a no-PC cut scene I found it pretty hard to pay attention. In fact, it did the opposite of what was intended. Instead of eagerly awaiting news of how The Man in Black was waging war, filtered through whatever information Suvi, Eursulon, and Ame could obtain, I was zoning out while he talked. I think part of why I like Actual Play is that it usually leaves me, even with 4 hour episodes, wanting more. Cut scenes leave me wishing the cut scene hadn't happened.

*brief tangent: this doesn't, in my opinion, apply to the scenes in Downfall that the viewer sees but which weren't captured in the Occultus Thalamus. The story of Downfall is ultimately a story about the gods - they are the PCs - and the dramatic irony enhances the story-within-a-story aspect. It's important to the audience understanding of the gods to see the whole thing, and it's a valid choice that Bells Hells only see what occurred while the avatars were physically in Aeor. It does, however, apply to contemporaneous happenings in Worlds Beyond Number.

**This also doesn't apply to long DM monologues in the presence of players. The C3 solstice scene has been compared to a cut scene, but actually it's important that Bells Hells sees it. If one of the Wizard, Witch, or Wild One had managed to find a way to, even at a low level, scry or similarly learn of the Man in Black's doings? I wouldn't have minded it. I adore the Hakea vision scene. It's specifically that I'm in fact here to see what the characters see.

[bakugotrashpanda]

Vampire!Bakugou x Fem!Reader Word count: 3.5k

All Souls Trilogy AU (if you squint)

!!: blood, angst

Your wish is his command… except for one thing.

Ornate metal lattice digs into Bakugou’s hands as he listens to your councilors inform you of the situation at hand. Inform. That’s a joke. More like condescend or manipulate. If he was actually allowed in the room as opposed to hiding behind the equivalent of a confessional, they wouldn’t treat you like that. 

Bronze creaks under his hand. Conversation that, to normal human ears, would be muffled by a red curtain pauses. You dismiss the sound. The conversation continues. 

“Patience,” your voice finds his ears. A futile command meant for him. But he waits. And when the simpering men leave your court, he finally emerges. Male stench hangs in the room. God, he hates these meetings. You can’t smell it, but Bakugou can’t help but pick up the underlying notes of ambition, hatred, lust. He could break their necks at the drop of a hat.

If you ordered it, he’d do anything.

“Well?” you sigh, “You heard them. The armada will be at our port in three days. Our fleet is battered. We wouldn’t be able to hold them off.”

Bakugou walks beside your chair and looks down at you. It was built for your grandfather. Big man, big ego, big dreams. Big shoes to fill. In comparison, you look like a child slumped at the dinner table waiting to be allowed to leave. 

“And they want you to lock the capital,” he sneers, “Leaving the masses — your people — the fend for themselves.” They want to stay safe in their cushy houses, and they currently do while the average person suffers.

A grim smile twists your lovely features. Bakugou longs to see your natural smile as opposed to this mockery of it. Oh how war hardens even the softest of hearts.

“So, my Shadow,” you look up at him now, “What are my other options?”

Bakugou clenches a fist at his side. There’s nothing more in the world he wants than to reach out and cup your cheek and memorize the glimmer of hope hiding in your eyes. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply, your intoxicating scent causing his heart to beat once. Exhaling, he rolls his shoulders before answering you. “The witches are eager to prove themselves. Become useful in your eyes.”

“They want protection from the masses.” 

Bakugou holds back a smirk. Of course you’d read between the lines. Nothing is given for free. “I advise you use them.”

“And then what? Offer them carte blanche?” you scoff. “If one more zealot cries foul again I’ll have an uprising worse than what my father faced.” You wince. You may try to forget the way he was dragged from the castle and beheaded and your shaky rise to power – eyes of the masses hungry for bloodshed, but he remembers it as vividly as yesterday. You were barely a woman, fear and a shattered innocence filled you to the core as you swore before all the powers that be to protect your realms. 

And Bakugou silently promised to guide you better than he had your father and his father before him.

“You’ll think of something.”

“What use are you then if you don’t aid your queen?” Your tongue and eyes are sharp and turned on him. “You will not make me a vampire such as yourself and grant me the powers I need to stabilize my kingdom. You tease solutions, but offer nothing more than that.” Bakugou watches you stand, your face hardening into an impassive mask. “The witches worry that I will turn my back on them, but perhaps it is the vampires who will lose favor.”

Pacing back and forth, you watch him, waiting for any reaction — something you can use to move the argument along. 

But all he gives you is a blank look. He can’t say anything – no matter how much he wants to. In truth, he has no more power than your advisors who bow their heads with a ‘yes, Your Majesty’ and say what you want to hear in an attempt to curry favor for themselves. 

Your shoulders slump when it’s clear he’s not going to take the bait.  “I have a kingdom to protect and ensure that we will see better days. I swore an oath before all the gods that I would do this,” your jaw juts out stubbornly. “I still have no consort and no heir. Everything will fall to chaos. Will you really deny your queen the ability to ensure there is a future for my people?”

Bakugou falls into a wide stance and clasps his hands behind his back. He’s heard this argument time and time again. No doubt your stubbornness will hold strong this time too. “I told your father and your father’s father the same thing: no. We do not lead in human politics.”

“Yet you’ll meddle.”

Bakugou sighs. He’ll respond that yes, creatures will meddle – who wouldn’t? You’ll spew more stories meant to guilt trip him. He’ll hold fast in his position that you will not be made a vampire. You’ll insinuate that if he won’t do it, you’ll find someone who will. His heart will beat again, and he’ll snarl that whatever vampire you find would sooner kill you than turn you. You’ll storm away. Nothing will be resolved. 

If he tries a different approach, maybe he can avoid what will surely be a weeklong headache. “My Queen,” he grits out. Fuck these insufferable games he must play in order to speak his mind. “Permission to speak freely?”

Back when he was reborn there was no need to ask to speak. He and his brethren did what they wanted without consequence. Lands were conquered on whims, the blood flowed freely. And now? He’s reduced to acting like one of the humans who advises you.

You nod. How generous.

“If I made you what I am,” he says silkily, “I would have your kingdom at my mercy. I could order you to do my bidding, and you would not be able to deny me. As a vampire you wouldn’t have the heir you so desperately want. I would ruin you.” He stalks towards you, only a hint of the predator within. To your credit, you stand your ground and appear unimpressed — your scent, however, betrays you. “In the time it would take for you to control your blood thirst, your people that you so valiantly want to protect would all be dead.”

He bends at the waist so your faces are even. Smiling, he adds on, “And that’s if you don’t kill them all yourself.” With a flourish, he bows and stalks towards the door. He doesn’t care that you’re fuming at his breach in etiquette. 

Bakugou isn’t summoned for more than a week. That whole time he does what he does best: stick to the shadows. To say you’re irritated is an understatement. The only time you do call upon him is to send him on an errand worthy of a human. Maybe it’s your form of punishment – to remind him of what you are.

But he’s addicted to you and can’t stay away. Many nights he finds himself spending time with the gargoyles lining the roof outside your window. 

He’s late tonight — not that sitting outside your chambers has a set time. A questioning took longer than he expected, and had extra clean up to deal with. Bakugou settles in at his usual spot and listens. Normal nightly ambience quickly filters away. All he wants to hear is you. 

Elevated heartbeat. Rapid breathing. Excitement. Bakugou turns his head away from your window. This isn’t the first time he’s heard you… enjoy yourself. But it’s a moment when you think you’re alone, so he does his best to give you privacy. He’s about to leave his hiding spot outside your window when he hears another faint heartbeat. Jealousy shoots through him. His hold on the nearest statue cracks the stone. Pebbles fall to the ground stories below. Who would you possibly have there with you?

About to break one of his own self-imposed rules and peek into your chambers, he’s blindsided by a scent.

Hatred.

It assaults his senses. A putrid scent wraps around his nose. It’s cloying, stinging his nose and pricking his eyes.

You’re not alone. But you’re not enjoying yourself either. No, if his senses are anything to go off of, there’s someone in your chambers with you who intends to do you harm.

Flashes of green cloud his vision. A past he swore he left behind eons ago. 

A mumbling. Yours? 

Bakugou can’t wait. He dives into the room and pinpoints the stench. It’s reflex at this point – sharpened claws embed into flesh. Warmth trickles down his fingers. He’s probably the only one who can hear the final exhale from the human hidden behind thick curtains in your room. Iron hitting the floor and bouncing around before coming to rest ricochets in his ears. 

You inhale sharply and sit up in your bed. Even in your anger and silence with him, you call for Bakugou – albeit at a whisper. Bakugou emerges from the curtain, blood drips down his hand in the moonlight. Your eyes fixate on the dark liquid. He sniffs it, but disdain taints it. There’s no point in savoring it, or even drinking it.

And then it hits him.

The blood curdling scream ripped from your lungs.

Soldiers rush into the room, swords drawn. Your blood spikes. There’s no way you’re in any shape to issue orders. Bakugou takes over, barking out demands to round up your advisors. Little do you know, but the human who had planned on destroying you was one of the people you trusted most – outside of him. 

You’re still in shock – in bed staring dumbfounded as the chaos in your bedchambers winds down. Bakugou aches to hold you close, make promises that nothing like this will happen again. But he can’t. 

Could he even handle a rejection from you? Or would he snap? It wouldn’t be the first time.

No, it’s better if he excuses himself first.

“Katuski, please, stay.”

Against his better judgment, his feet stumble to a stop and he stares at the door in front of him. Does he stay? Is it wise?

He turns. Faces you for the first time since you cast him out of your council chambers. For the first time since your father’s death, you look your age. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, but you’ve made a valiant effort to keep your head held high despite all the troubles and tribulations thrown your way. Now though, in a bed that dwarfs you, you look more like yourself and less like the young queen he serves.

Bakugou tentatively sits on the edge of your bed. You play with a stray thread from the enormous cover. He watches you wind and unwind it around your finger. It’s only when it snaps completely that you speak.

“He… I… I trusted him. And he wanted to kill me.” Bakugou remains silent. He watches you process the moment. Your brows push together and pull apart as sadness overtakes you. “I trusted him. He advised me. And he wanted me dead.”

Visions of the past swim in his eyes. He wanted me dead. A deep, garbled voice pleads with him. For what? Desperation. Blood. Death.

“He can’t hurt you.” Bakugou masks the hollowness of his voice with a bow of his head. “I am your faithful servant, now and always.”

“Would he be able to kill me if I were a creature like you?”

Not again. He’s not ready for another argument. You’re only just beginning to talk to him again. “Not in the way he wanted.” It’s not impossible, but vampires are much harder to kill than mere mortals.

“Katsuki, I’m begging.” Warm fingers grasp his forearm. “Change me. Make me one of you.”

It would be so easy. “I am bound by the laws created by and for creatures. I can’t. And if I was able to, I wouldn’t.” 

Your mouth opens, an objection on your tongue. He speaks quickly, cutting off a protest he’s heard countless times before. “I don’t have many regrets – I can count them on one hand.” A pair of eyes, pleading. A pair of emeralds that haunt him when he somehow sleeps. Shiny. Reflective. Crying? Blood everywhere. A life too soon extinguished. A love lost. All his fault. “I turned someone I thought I loved. I was ready to spend the rest of eternity with a mate.” It ended with a body, a broken heart, and a promise never to repeat that mistake.

“I’m not like her, I promise.” 

“No, you’re not like him,” Bakugou snaps. How many times does he have to say it? “But I won’t do it, no matter how much I love you.”

The silence hangs heavy in the room. You sit back. The cavernous distance between your bodies makes his fingers itch.

Maybe you didn’t hear him. Maybe you’ll think he said something else. Maybe-

“Love?”

He curses himself. No, of course you heard, and now one of his secrets is out there. There’s no point in denying it. You’ll never let it drop. And… if he messes up now, he’ll have plenty of chances in the future to make it right. “I’ve always loved you. I always find you, not matter how far I have to go or how far you rise or fall in life.”

“You’ve… found me. Before.” Confusion turns to awe as realization washes over you. There are hushed whispers in religions about reincarnation, but very few have actually believed it.

“And I’ll find you again in your next life.”

“You wouldn’t have to find me again; you could have me now.”

“Don’t say that!” Bakugou’s roar echoes throughout the chamber.

“I’m not scared of you.” Defiance. Just like him. His other love. Only back then, Bakugou believed his words. 

“You should be. I’m a monster.” He killed the one he loved. All because he was… afraid of being alone. What good is eternity if you can’t spend it with anyone? “I can hear your blood singing beneath your skin. On the best of days I hang on to my sanity by a thread.”

“What kind of life is that?”

“One I choose for myself.”

Your lips press together. Every incarnation of you never lets it drop. “What’s holding you back?” Maybe… just this once… “Katsuki… talk to me.”

“No. It doesn’t concern you.” He can’t. 

You straighten up and arch an eyebrow. “Are you disobeying an order from your queen?”

He smirks. “Are you my queen now instead of the woman I covet most?”

Hesitation overtakes the haughty demeanor on your face. “I can be both.”

“Not to me.”

You sigh. A wry grin replaces the fake demeanor you save for your court. “Then tell me, the woman who wants to spend her whole life with you. What happened?”

He failed. That’s what happened. It was much like this night; an assassination attempt, only the assassin succeeded. And as the love of his life lay in Bakugou’s arms dying, Bakugou offered him a choice. And who can refuse the chance to live forever?

Bakugou licks his lips. How much should he tell you? Would you be jealous after hearing it all? “He was the chieftain,” he starts slowly. “He shouldn’t have been though. It was a different time. Politics… it was all brutal strength. When I heard there was a chief that couldn’t protect his people, I went to him with the intention of wiping him and his people off the face of the earth.”

He can remember the scent of fresh dirt after the rain. The mud squelching beneath his war horse’s hooves. People watched him warily as he rode into town. A green haired man emerged from the largest structure. Innocence. 

“But you didn’t?” 

“I didn’t,” he nods. “I saw how he led without an iron fist. At first it intrigued me. And then the more I watched, the more I wanted to protect him. He knew what I was and he welcomed me. Everyone did. The peacefulness messed with me. First time in eons I’d felt that way. But it didn’t last, and I couldn’t protect him. He was wounded and I offered him a chance to stay with me. Forever.”

His blood tasted sweet. It was laced with love and hope, none of the desperation that usually follows death. 

“Did he take it?”

“He did. But it wasn’t successful.” Soft emerald eyes woke with a hardness Bakugou saw when he looked at his reflection. An unending hunger. A craving. A need for violence. “He woke with an uncontrollable bloodlust. He slaughtered everyone in his care. But he wasn’t done there. He ran. There was destruction wherever he went. My father…” Bakugou swallows thickly. He remembers his father riding over the hilltop. From across the field of carnage, Bakugou heard him sigh before turning away. “My step-father. He was disappointed in me. I would’ve preferred him being angry. But he calmly told me to clean up my mess. I…”

In the end, Bakugou caught him. It had to be done. I lo- There was peace on his face when Bakugou removed his heart from his chest. Acrid smoke filled Bakugou’s lungs as the body burned. And for a split second, he considered walking into the blazing pyre as well.

“I killed him in the end. I had to.” Bakugou studies his hands. How much blood did he have on them? “I spent centuries trying to find him again. He never resurfaced.”

“Maybe he-”

“No. You haven’t seen it. There are always similarities.” Bakugou studies you for a moment. Sometimes your hair changes. Sometimes you’re shorter than normal. Once it was your eyes, and that took him off guard once he realized it was you. “You, for example, are always in power whether you want it or not. You’re headstrong and stubborn as a mule. You don’t take ‘no’ for an answer. And your smile. I always recognize your smile. He’s gone. Forever. Turning him must’ve corrupted his soul.”

Your lips form a thin line as grim realization sets in. “That’s why you won’t turn me.”

“I won’t lose you too. At least this way I know that I can search to the ends of the earth and I’ll find you again.” Even if it’s a painful existence.

“Katsuki.” Your hand finds his cheek. Warmth floods his skin, just like it did before his rebirth. His eyes flutter closed, enjoying the sensation. “You may not make me one of you, but I give myself to you, and no other.” Bakugou’s eyes pinch tight. He’s heard those words before. They always spell your downfall. If he doesn’t push you away, there will be no heir to the throne. There will be no victory in the war. Your kingdom will collapse.

And yet…

He’s never had the willpower to say no before.

He cups your cheek. Your skin thrums beneath his touch. The siren’s call from your blood grows deafeningly loud. His lips graze over yours, barely skimming their surface, but his senses explode.

“Mine,” he whispers huskily, “Forever.” Sealing your fate in this life with a searing kiss, he moves his way down to the soft base of your neck. Teeth pierce skin. Your gasp is music to his ears. Your essence coats his tongue

It’s not enough to kill, nor is it enough to turn you, but it is enough to mark you as his territory for all other creatures. 

They’ll know that you’re in league with a vampire, and they’ll grow suspicious of you and your word – turn on you when you least expect it.  

Just like they have before.

Maybe next time – in your next life – he can stop himself or finally give in to your wishes and turn you.

But for this lifetime, you’re his.

—Modern day—

Bakugou stares out over the city. From the top floor, he can hardly see the people below. It’s hardly the tallest skyscraper, but he and his kind have had to adapt — be more… incognito. Gone are the days of raising hell and taking over. No, much to his chagrin, in this human dominated society, Bakugou has to pretend to be like them. 

He glances at the framed magazine cover behind a grandiose oak desk. It’s been enlarged – at least three feet tall. You stand front and center in a smart blazer, arms crossed. Your eyes sear the viewer as if daring them to challenge you. The headline is as bold as you: New Queen of Philanthropy? Meet the latest woman to join the Top 100 Most Powerful People.

The boardroom door silently opens and clicks shut behind him. An intoxicating scent wraps around him, teasing his senses. And for a moment, he allows himself to get lost in it. Maybe this time will be different.

He spins on his heel and extends a hand to you. “Katsuki Bakugou, your father’s chief financial officer.” His heart gives a single beat as his skin makes contact with yours. 

“I’ve heard all about you, Mr. Bakugou,” you reply and pointedly stare at the icy handshake. “They call you my father’s shadow; always working in the background, getting him the information he needed, never in the public eye.”

“Please, call me Katsuki,” he grins wolfishly. “I look forward to serving you.”

Images used in banner from unsplash.

[the-obnoxious-sibling]

brilliant minds locked-in syndrome guy episode let’s gooo

it may be fandom-brained of me to think it, but the first roman flashback had me thinking “are these guys about to fight or kiss?”

i was wondering how they were gonna get this patient’s consent to be involved in the study, given the givens—gotta say, i’m impressed with how close to my real-world experience of the consenting process it went!

another bit of real-world accuracy: the hospital administrator more excited about the study bringing attention & funding to the institution than what it’ll do for the patient 🙃

really enjoyed the palliative decision-making discussion. some investor may see it as a waste of a surgery, but ericka was absolutely right that the patient’s autonomy a) was the point of the surgery b) needs to be respected. ignoring his wishes would make the surgery a waste.

oh shit, my first thought was right? 🥺 on one hand, tragic foreign gay can feel overplayed—yes, we know, it’s not safe to be queer in many places—but this is a kind, queer show, i want to believe they can do this earnestly and sympathetically.

wolf with tears in his eyes seeing them reunite??? 🥺🥹🥺 i love him

aw, wolf. you gotta respect his wishes, man!

“you saw me when no one else did. which is ironic, because they tell me you can’t see faces. and because it seems like you don’t see me at all anymore.” he’s seeing the gay happy ending, he’s seeing love and hope, and—forgetting that there are other considerations.

carol and nichols reemphasizing the point ericka made earlier makes me pretty sure i know how this episode ends. wolf be professional! you can cry in private about it later!

(show interrupted by an ad for an aldis hodge-led crime show? also starring isaiah mustafa?? a shame it’s based on patterson novels, i don’t really enjoy his style.)

augh, dying with dignity, dying at home—i get it, but wolf deciding to make this happen at his home is very… wolf of him.

jacob! you can’t just ask a man whether he’s ever let anyone into his heart! that’s rude!!

ROMAN SHIPS WOLFNICHOLS??? W H A T

(also: “carol’s not actually that tall she’s just obsessed with high heels” lmao wolf, stop being so funny so fast, i almost missed this one)

not the star map on the ceiling because alex and roman bonded over astronomy 😭😭😭

“my favorites, vega and altair” oh my god, wolf is an unbelievable hopeless romantic

not wolf literally telling the tanabata story, I Cannot

(well, the chinese version, idk that one’s name. google says qixi?)

not higher love!!! i’m gonna c r y

ugh okay, researcher not being informed that their patient is dead is shitty and against protocol (that’s a reportable event even when it’s unrelated to the study device) but this guy having zero concern for the patient in the face of ~proving the value of the work to his investors~ is shittier.

like, have alex say something to the investors if you need good pr. how he spent months in nyc with no idea where roman was or what happened to him, and within a week of getting the chip the team was able to find him, and let them say goodbye. there’s a sob story that’ll make them feel good about how they spent their money!

likewise i see where his mom’s coming from but she cannot keep combining talking to wolf as her employee and talking to him as her son. it’s unprofessional, yeah, and it also makes things so messy. she can’t be surprised that he brings up his father as a gotcha when she does that.

the “privilege” to prioritize the patient in front of him—ugh, shut up forever, he’s a neurologist, not a public health specialist or an er doc doing triage. he’s supposed to prioritize the patient in front of him, it’s not a symptom of his childhood trauma

cringing at the van-ericka scene. felt totally unrelated to the rest of the episode—i went and rewatched the ceiling stars scene on a hunch, turned out i looked away during a ten second shot of ericka looking at jacob and van looking at her. (imo it should have been a longer shot if it was gonna be end-of-episode important.) making the empathic white boy suffer for suffering’s sake… sigh. i am just not interested in this love triangle.

but, talking of love stories i am interested in… we’re really ending the episode immediately after the kiss, huh? okay. OKAY.

[katerinaaqu]

Why didn't Odysseus's crew stage a mutiny against him in the Odyssey? (An analysis based on Homer's Odyssey)

It has been a while since the last time I did some Odyssey Analysis and here is an interesting question that goes on in this. A very valid question actually.

During the arduous trip in the Odyssey, the Cephallinians suffered greater loss than anything they suffered at the 10 year war at Troy. They lost almost all ships and all men were dying. They were reduced to a ship of a crew with less than 40 people and they didn't seem to get much hope. So of course one could ask; what was holding them back and didn't fight back against Odysseus apart from the indirect mutiny they did when he turned his eyes away from him to pray? Why their only mutiny was to disobey his orders and slay the cattle of Helios Hyperion? Surely more than 30 men could do plenty of damage to one man right? Why didn't they? And why is it important for the story?

So while thinking about it I came down with some possible explanations as to why that happened;

Odysseus was beloved to the gods

Regardless of their terrible situations, Odysseus probably still had the fame of someone beloved to the gods. He used to be directly communicating with Athena and was under her protection. Despite the fact that he was cursed by a god, there could be some sort of a thought running to their minds; what if we harm him and the gods strike us for it? What if there will be consequences for directly wishing harm to one who was blessed to be appreciated by gods? It could possibly be a risk that they didn't want to take. And it makes sense given how much Odysseus interracted even with minor gods during the trip (for example Aeolus or Circe). Quite frankly they might as well have wished that at some point Odysseus would appeal to yet another god for help.

Odysseus was beloved to his subjects

If you look at my other analysis here You can remember how beloved leader Odysseus was even to subjects such as slaves who in theory would have no real reason to be loyal to him. Odysseus seemed always to be a just and beloved leader and his men on the ship were not an exception. Regardless of whether they had lost faith hin him in his capability to bring him home or if they doubted his judgement, they couldn't get past the emotional connection; Odysseus had protected them during the war to the point of suffering the least possible losses, during the trip he was going to extreme measures to protect them (even the cruel misadventure in which Odysseus cut the rope from his ship to save the last ship from the Laestrygonians might as well have spoken volumes to the men that were saved). It would be hard for them to completely ignore that even in the face of mistrust. Somehow it would also be them thinking that they "owe him" till that part.

Odysseus was hiding stuff from them that could be important

Ironically the very source of their mistrust was protecting Odysseus. Odysseus didn't share with them the nature of the sack of Aeolus even if he seemed pretty clear that they couldn't touch it (and that led to their first tragedies). Later he hid the information that they would have to go through the Sirens till the very last moment where he warned them about it. Later he hid completely the information that they would go through Skylla and Charybdis. His men could think "How many more things did this man know on their way home and hid it from them?" if they captured or killed him in a mutiny how were they sure there weren't more dangers ahead that Odysseus was hiding from them and could either be informed the last moment or not at all? What guarantee did they have that Odysseus didn't know even MORE about their course? They had none. So ironically the very reason they began to mistrust him in the first place became the reason Odysseus was safe from their rage.

No one wanted to take responsibility at time of crisis!

Last and definitely not least comes for me the most important reason of all at least story-wise that shows how excellent writer Homer is into writing human nature. His men didn't stage a mutiny because no matter how displeased they were with his decisions, literally NO ONE wants to have the same responsibility to take decisions in time of crisis! Honestly, how many times do common folk feel themselves find a scapegoat usually to the face of their leaders when things go south? (and for good reason that is given that they are the ones with the responsibility to take decisions). When something goes wrong we blame the leader, the government or someone that has come forth and not only takes the decisions but also is responsible for the blame as well.

During their arduous trip Odysseus took some of the most painful decisions they could imagine in order to save what he could; he advised them to leave the Cicones and they didn't which led to their first tragedy; he tried to correct his mistake by appeasing the god Aeolus, he took the decision to sacrifice his ships in order to save the one he could knowing full well that they would never be able to fight against the Laestrygonians. He knew the 11 ships were lost cause so he acted fast cutting the ropes of his own ship and sailing away, making sure to save what he could even if that meant to the terrible loss. He traveled to the underworld even though he was alive, he chose Skylla over Charybdis knowing that the sacrifice would be too great but still not as great as to lose them all.

Regardless of their emotions at that moment; they put themselves in his shoes and realize that none of them would take the burden of leadership and take those decisions for them. Odysseus with his nerves of steel managed to save them so far even if they had so many losses and undoubtedly they realized that in his shoes they would never be able to act so efficiently and so fast. And knowing their own reactions against him; blaming him for the losses, they realize that none of them would have the guts to take not only the painful decisions but also the blame and hate that follows them. Odysseus was lifting on his shoulder as much hate and anger as very few others; not only his previous experiences at war and his actions but now his decisions of the trip. I have no doubt that even in their anger the men admired how he could carry it all.

Conlcusions:

Homer is a master of words and plot. I have no doubt that if he thought it served the plot he would have mentioned his men staging a full on mutiny against Odysseus or in one way I am almost certain he thought of the possibility being quite doable given as I said above that Odysseys was one man and the others were over 30. However knowing how great he is in protraying human emotions to his writing I think his choice of plot was deliberate.

Not only was Odysseus someone that could erupt not only controversy but also superstition given his close relationship with gods before, his leadership was always admirable regardless of the results (knowing his prudent nature and how plenty of his orders that were disobeyed ended up in a tragedy and let's face it Odysseus was also a brilliant fighter. I doubt anyone would easily take the first step to fight him one on one either!) and above all he was one of the best when it came on taking some really difficult decisions, carrying on his back not only the personal guilt he felt while taking them but also the anger of others and their retalliation. And in an amazingly human writing Homer speaks on times of crisis. When people do not wish to take responsibility at times of Crisis because they know full well that their decisions rarely ever would be painless!

Therefore they couldn't retalliate against him; they didn't want the responsibility of leadership or the blame for the losses. They didn't want to stand against authority directly either. So they took the indirect mutiny decision; when authority is not present they disobey or they break their will when the force of authority.

Could we perhaps one more time appeal to the usual theory of "unreliable storyteller" and speak on how Odysseus doesn't want to mention a mutiny in his story to Phaeakes because he doesn't want to appear as weak leader in their eyes?

We could but in my opinion this doesn't seem likely. Odysseus is already humiliated; shipwrecked and a beggar in their house. He mentioned how it was ellegedly his fault that the whole domino of reactions began when he mentions how he was yelling to Polyphemus being blasphemus that not even Poseidon could put him back together if he had killed him (which let's face it is too much given that gods had no probelm resurrecting some dead before). He had already mentioned his men not listening to him and disobedience was already a heavy thing. He didn't hide most of the unpleasant experiences during the trip so why miss the opportunity of shifting the blame to his men, saying that they stage a mutiny against him thus himself being unable to react instead of stating that he fell asleep during the prayer? To show that his men fear him so they do not dare to face him? Perhaps but it seems unlikely given the whole story in which Odysseus doesn't hide his bad sides from them.

What do you guys think? Let me know to your comments and reblogs below! ^_^