#he probably had slaves for servants

[sailorsenshishitposter]

Jonathan Joestar x Reader

Jonathan Joestar

You get mad when people complain that part 1 is boring, you despise Dio and you love your men built like brick houses with the personality of a cinnamon roll. You also love dogs.

First Date

Jonathan chooses Erina and you die of a broken heart.

Take two

You manage to get the help of some street thugs and they shank Erina Pendleton. You throw her corpse into the river, desperately hoping that her death will be blamed on Jack the ripper. You don a blonde wig that you bought off some strange Chinese man and you then disguise yourself as Erina hitman style. Everyone buys it.

You then make your way to the Joestar mansion and find Jonathan, claiming to be his long lost friend. This enrages Dio who now is kicking all the local dogs in a fit of rage. He now changes his plans and decides to poison Jonathan instead, leaving him a fragile husk. You tell jojo that things aren't working out and that you're leaving him for Dio. The shock sends him into cardiac arrest and he soon floats away to heaven to be with Danny.

Unfortunately Jonathan was never told that feeding dogs grapes is a bad idea and he fed some to his beloved dog while in heaven, causing the poor creature to die a second time. Suddenly he sees a black man flying on a magical horse. "I'm sure glad that even the almighty Lord can let the slaves into heaven." Suddenly time goes backwards and Jonathan finds himself back in the past.

He's returned to your wedding day and the groom is none other than Dio. Jojo is about to protest before you annul the marriage. It turns out that your fiancee had a strange habit of creating chimera abominations and the talking cat man was the last straw. You grab Jonathan by the hand and drag him with you outside of the chapel. You profess your eternal love for him but he rejects you, for he has already found another blonde.

Out comes a man who dubs himself "Speedwagon" and he tilts his hat to you. "Good evening love. Have you seen my me wallet? I have a mighty fine case of the rickets and-" Jonathan arrives and cuts the man off. "Darling, what did I say about speaking in a cockney accent?" The blond man gave a huff and gazed down towards the ground. "No more talking like a petty street thug..."

Jojo then kissed him on the cheek. "Good. Now let's hurry, we must fit you for my mother's wedding dress." 

[dootznbootz]

Odysseus always trusted Penelope. He was ordered to lie to her and it hurt him to do so. Penelope was distrustful of this stranger until she had absolute solid proof.

There are way too many people talking about how "Odysseus lies to Penelope. What a prick!" and it makes me sad/mad as that's not the case at all

The whole "Odysseus usually always has a reason to lie" maybe upcoming essay aside, He was literally commanded by Athena to not tell anyone. And it was with Penelope that he had the hardest time keeping up the act with. Not only because she's smart af and figured him out almost immediately (that essay coming soon too) but because he was trying to keep himself from crying with her.

I think people forget that he is disguised to look like someone else completely. If a random man claimed to be your missing husband, wouldn't you be scared/freaked out?

Anyways, the 3 most important people in his life are Penelope, Telemachus, and Laertes. He lies to all three.

Telemachus: Lied by letting Eumaeus answer him and still under the orders from Athena, did not cry or reveal himself until Athena allowed him to. (I read it as him being in shock. Last time he saw him, Telemachus' hand could only wrap around one finger and now he's as big as him. a bit shocking to say the least)

Laertes: He teared up seeing him but still decided to question and test his father, not by the order from Athena.

Penelope: He was trying so hard to keep from crying, tried to noodle his way out of lying to her, Under Athena's orders. still couldn't help but basically flirt with her.

Also to get this outta the way: No, it wasn't a matter of trust. He is shown to trust her right away. As this happens even before he gets the chance to speak with Penelope.

Staunch Odysseus glowed with joy to hear all this— his wife's trickery luring gifts from her suitors now, enchanting their hearts with suave seductive words but all the while with something else in mind.

(Book 18, Fagles)

If Odysseus does not trust her, why is he so happy to see her "flirt" with the suitors? It's because he KNOWS what she's doing and knows she doesn't actually want them. If he didn't trust her, he would be upset by this.

Now for the "it hurt to lie to her" bit.

Athena's command:

"Tell not a single person in the palace, man or woman, that you are back from your wanderings; but endure all vexations in silence and submit yourself to the indignities that will be put upon you.'

(Book 13, Rieu)

If you are my son—truly of our blood—                                            let no one hear Odysseus is back home. Don’t let Laertes know or the swineherd, or the slaves, or Penelope herself.

(Book 16, Johnston)

And the people he did reveal himself to, he only did so after being given permission by Athena.

Athene spoke to him. 'The time has come,' she said, 'royal son of Laertes, Odysseus of the nimble wits, to let Telemachus into your secret, so that the pair of you may plot the downfall and death of the Suitors and then make your way to the famous city. [...]

(Book 15, Rieu)

He talks to Telemachus before talking to Penelope.

I’ll stay here, so I can stir the servants even more— and your mother. As she laments, she’ll ask for each and every detail.”

(Book 19, Johnston)

Odysseus is already sweating about having to lie to her

The next part would honestly be me just inserting almost ALL the text for this so I'll go into a summary. It's all in Book 19.

Penelope asks him where he's from. And instead of answering, it's a tsunami of compliments. Calling her flawless. Comparing her to a king. etc, etc,

Probably because he couldn't help himself and had to babble about how wonderful she is Who wouldn't? before finally ending with "Please don't ask me where I'm from. It makes me sad."

Penelope, probably overwhelmed by his praise, immediately goes into how "her beauty left with her husband. It did not. And where did you say you were from again?"

"Fine! I'm from Crete..."

And we all know that as soon as she starts crying, after a lovely description of how her tears "melted", he talks about how hard it was for Odysseus to hold in his OWN tears. Lying to her and being unable to comfort her was painful for him!!!

But though Odysseus' heart was wrung by his wife's distress, his eyes, hard as horn or iron, never wavered between their lids, so craftily did he repress his tears.

(Book 19, Rieu)

I love Robert Fitzgerald's translation so as a treat:

[...] so her white cheeks were wetted by these tears shed for her lord--and he close by her side. Imagine how his heart ached for his lady, his wife in tears; and yet he never blinked; his eyes might have been made of horn or iron for all that she could see. He had this trick-- wept, if he willed to, inwardly.

(Book 19, Fitzgerald)

Even with him revealing himself to Euryclea, when she cried out to Penelope, Athena made sure she didn't hear! It's most likely that he wouldn't be able to tell her even if he wanted. Athena was planning something, just as Penelope was.

She spoke, and her eyes glanced over at Penelope, anxious to tell her that her husband had come home. But Penelope could not see her face or notice, for Athena had diverted her attention.

(Book 19, Johnston)

He desperately wanted to be with her again. Literally daydreaming about it!

At those words Dawn rose on her golden throne in a sudden gleam of light. And great Odysseus caught the sound of his wife’s cry and began to daydream—deep in his heart it seemed she stood beside him, knew him, now, at last …

(book 20, Fagles)

Clearly doesn't trust her. /sarcasm

It's PENELOPE that has trouble trusting him. And rightfully so! While she was very certain that was her husband, there was so much going on and of course, she's cautious! He looked like an elderly stranger at first, why is he hiding from her? He somehow took out all those men with only a little help, Athena isn't telling her anything, Helen was kidnapped and she did not want that to possibly happen to her too, etc.

He even understands her cautiousness to be reasonable.

As she spoke, lord Odysseus, who had borne so much, smiled and immediately spoke to Telemachus— his words had wings:   “Telemachus, let your mother test me in these halls. She will soon possess more certain knowledge. Right now I’m filthy, with disgusting clothing on my body. That’s why she rejects me and will not say I am Odysseus. [...]

(Book 23, Johnston)

He even trusted her completely to take care of everything while he was gone before. And he does again when he wakes up and goes to see his father. Telling her about how she too wise to need instruction

Odysseus (and Penelope as well) is well-known for his cunning tricks and how his loyalties are often blurred but one thing that is for sure about him is that he trusts and is loyal to Penelope full-heartedly. He spent every day missing her and their son and wanting to go home to her. The only moment we see his trust in her waver is during the Treebed scene, (which is what she wanted to test).

They are "like-minded". 😭

[ironunderstands]

These Aventurine, Topaz and Jade comparisons are getting out of hand…

As much as I adore both of them, I think it’s very disingenuous to compare Aventurine and Topaz’s lore and be like “but they are the same!!!! If people like Aventurine and dislike Topaz that’s just misogyny!!! and like… no?

Topaz’s whole thing is that she doesn’t know the extent of the IPC’s evil, and believes that what she’s doing is genuinely the right thing to do. Even if she never had a choice in joining the IPC, she (incorrectly) believes what they did to her and her planet is justified, logical and moral, and for those reasons she stands with them. Part of this is likely IPC brainwashing, as she was probably very young when she became an indentured servant to them, and someone living on a planet on the brink of destruction would likely view anyone who stepped up to save them as heroes (imo the IPC likely waited for the point of no return to establish contact so her people had no other choice to except).

However Topaz got best end of the proverbial stick, her planet and its people were deemed useful by the IPC, and didn’t fight back, even if in the end they were still exploited.

Unfortunately, we have seen through Boothill, Belabog and Aventurine what happens when that isn’t the case.

Boothill’s planet got bombed and people genocided because they had a resource useful to the IPC, but were unwilling to cooperate with them or hand over their home, so the IPC decided to eradicate them.

Belabog had a debt owed to the IPC that was ridiculously high and very unfair to expect them to pay back, and had Topaz not convinced the higher ups to give them some time (which she got demoted for), the IPC would have taken Belabog by force

That leaves us with Aventurine, whose story is in no way on the same level of bad as Topaz’s. Unlike her, he has witnessed and experienced firsthand the truly awful shit the IPC can do.

They took custody of Sigonia and promised to offer the Avgin aid in their fight against the Katacans, at the very least protect them from harm. (Sidenote, since the IPC held control over Sigonia, they should have stopped the fighting in the first place). However, they simply stood by and did nothing, resulting in the deaths of around 6,000 Avgin, with around 3,000 went missing (or injured, I don’t remember, either way it’s bad).

But wait! It gets worse! Aventurine when he was still known as Kakavasha referred to the IPC as “the men in black/the men in black suits”, and his first master says he bought Aventurine from “the men in black/the men in black suits”, likely mocking the way he referred to them. Therefore THE IPC TOOK PART AND LIKELY EVEN CREATED A FUCKING SLAVE TRADE IN SIGONIA

Look being made into an indentured servant isn’t fun, but idk personally I’d take that any day of the week OVER BEING ENSLAVED

That’s not even to mention how horrible of a reputation Sigonian’s have in the galaxy, one likely spread by/resulting from the IPC themselves, as at least on Aventurines planet they do not have the mobility to make a name for themselves. (Honestly it’s a mini theory of mine that Aventurines scam is what partly contributed to this reputation, and his status as a slave is something the IPC conveniently left out in their broadcast about it-)

But, you might be saying, didn’t Aventurine have a choice to join the masked fools and leave the IPC, isn’t he free now? And to that I say, it’s complicated.

Considering the amount of suicidal shit Aventurine has done while being part of the IPC, he clearly hasn’t been having a fun time as a member of one, so why does he stick around, especially with the Fools invite? Even if he was a slave, does that absolve him of the crimes he’s committing now? What could justify his actions?

Revenge, plan and simple.

This is going to delve into some spoiler territory for the end of the Penacony 2.2 quest, something which I didn’t feel like mentioning earlier because I’m sorry but everyone and their mother already knows Boothill’s lore. Now, let’s get into it.

Aventurine accepts Jades offer to join the IPC, and when he becomes a Stoneheart, the first thing he asks about is the fate of the Avgin, to which he then learns that besides him, they are all dead. You see, from birth Kakavasha was pushed onto a pedestal as the savior of the Avgin, but now that there are no more Avgin to save, his primary motivator in becoming a Stoneheart (beyond not being enslaved anymore) is gone.

So what does he do now?

Simple, try to kill the motherfuckers behind it.

That’s why he takes on such risky gambles still, and why he wagers and wants Diamond to promote him to rank p46. The higher Aventurine gets the closer he gets to his goal of taking down the IPC for good.

Which is why his meeting with Boothill is so meaningful. I think Boothill is going to “kidnap” him and together they are gonna take down the wicked bitch that is Oswaldo Schneider for his literal crimes against humanity.

Mark my words, an IPC downfall is going to happen, and I think Topaz, Aventurine, Boothill and Ratio are going to be at the forefront of it.

However, Topaz and Ratio (and by extension the rest of the galaxy) have to learn/realize the true horrors of the IPC (although I can sense Ratio doesn’t really like them, and he’s learned a lot from Aventurine, I doubt he knows the full extent of the situation or is in any way happy about it). Therefore? Topaz mental breakdown arc? Ratio lore? PLEASE??!? The IP3 compliment one another so well and god I can’t wait for that to come to fruition.

I really want to see a Topaz and Ratio centered story leading up to an IPC smackdown, and I think we are gonna learn a lot more about how shitty they are in the later half of 2.2 and in 2.3 when the interlude and Jades release arrive.

As for the aforementioned Jade, she’s gonna need a Aventurine squared amount of trauma or reasoning behind her actions to seem in any way sympathetic, because right now she just seems like an evil bitch (in a semi good way, I will always respect the commitment to the bit) who loves her job and would make Machiavelli weep over how hard her ends are trying to justify her means.

[boop-le-snoot]

kinktober #1

Lovesong

kinktober day one | daddy kink | cw: 18+, self-explanatory. actually rather vanilla-ish. he is sweet. no violence whatsoever. | word count 3,2k | click here for full list of planned fics | author's note under the cut |

Clean water. A bedroll that didn't reek of mildew and filthy iron. Clean clothing, practically a luxury in current circumstances. The villager who had brought it was a small, mousy thing with a baby strapped to her chest, with it being the probable reason uruks left her alone and let her pass throughout the camp unbothered. The southern folk had a variety of coloured fabrics unlike anything encountered by most non-nobles in the West lands. Including you.

You carefully wrapped up your new clothes in your threadbare towel and gathered your necessities before exiting your temporary dwelling. A nearby uruk gave you an appraising glance and, having received your nod, gestured in the appropriate direction. It was not a secret you were a favourite amongst the many slaves and servants. Truthfully, you were never a slave in the first place, but those were semantics that hardly mattered. You worked for your keep like everyone else.

The bathing area was guarded by two Uruks, ones you knew, and they knew you. Greetings were exchanged and the two traded a quick salacious glance as they let you pass through the thick shrubbery surrounding the pools of hot springs. It was a blessing for your party to stumble upon them during your wandering through the Southlands.

Despite their normal state of battle-rugged filth, Uruks did like to bathe. Sure, their standards of cleanliness were much different from humans, and even further than those of Elves, but such was their wild nature. Uruks could be no more at fault for their habits than races considered noble.

It was this realisation that brought you to know the strange scarred Elf sat sprawled against the side of the basin. At least you guessed he was an Elf, or had been, at some point. His rangy, sharp features and pointed ears coupled with the scarring covering every inch of his body made for a mesmerising view. Like a difficult puzzle, he elicited feelings of awe, wonder and trepidation. His eyes opened, two angular slits, and surveyed your approaching form.

On silent feet and watched by his bottomless pools of liquid onyx, you briskly deposited your items on a nearby stone and slid out of your filthy, ragged clothes. The only thing that was subject to salvage was underwear. Relief washed over you as warm, dry air gently touched your bare skin slick with stale sweat and dirt.

“Melmë.” He spoke up suddenly. Water splashed over the edges.

“Adar,” you replied, bowing your head respectfully.

The final article of clothing - a pair of underwear - slid swiftly down your legs. You hurried to step into the pool, acutely aware the way Adar's silent appraisal of your body sent shivers down your flesh. Having spent so long in an Uruk camp, self-consciousness was a thing of the past.

It was anticipation that coiled in your tummy. Expectant, you dunked underwater to wet your hair and run fingers through it to dislodge any debris. Arms connected with your torso, bringing you up above the water. Adar's chest, all lean, textured skin, connected with your back. Where the water was lukewarm, he was pleasantly warm. His palms slid over your chest, brushing past your erect nipples with a petal-soft touch.

You sighed. Adar rumbled.

“Have you forgotten your manners?” His voice resonated throughout your skull as a wry observation.

In truth, you did. The mere prospect of feeling clean had overshadowed everything else in your mind, giving you tunnel vision. Even now, faced well with the prospect of punishment, you could hardly care. Hardly focus on anything beside the scent of soap and, perhaps, the slowly hardening appendage twitching at your rear. You hummed non-commitally and hummed some more when Adar's arms tightened up to keep you in place.

“What you say?” Voice lower, harsher, his strong arms squeezed you just shy of painful.

“I did forget my manners,” you chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating a clever plan to evade Adar's grasp and make a dash for the soap.

“...” Impatient rumble, hand sneaking to none-too-gently grope at your breast.

“Adar!” You quickly added, halting the hand and turning touch towards gentle. Electric sparks shot through your nipple as Adar toyed with it, flicking the hardened nub with the calloused pad of his thumb. You sighed, locking your hips in place. There was a limit to misbehaving.

Somewhat of a theatrical sigh left the Uruk. “You must apologise and make amends, melmë,” he chided, switching his hands to award your other nipple the same arduous torture. A lick of flame burnt bright in the pit of your belly and Adar instantly knew of it, having brought a large hand to press your hips against his own, daring you to push back.

“I am sorry,” you sputtered. For forgetting to greet him properly, yes, but not for wanting a bath. You remained frozen, awaiting a rough grab or a harsh tweak to your abused breast, heart fluttering somewhere in your throat.

It didn't come. Instead, you felt the ghost of a smile brush over the shell of your ear. “There. Was it truly difficult?” The rumble of his voice curved around your budding arousal and pushed it towards forefront.

“No, Adar,” you said. It sounded very close to petulant whining.

It only seemed to amuse him further. He did not laugh, no, but nonetheless the splashing of water was joined by a terse, scratchy noise. A rich sound you echoed with the ghost of a grin.

“Well, then.” Adar released your hip and reached somewhere behind himself.

All business-like, he brought the object in front of you and released your breast to rub it in between his palms underwater. Scents of pine and lye made you sigh in relief and happiness as water foamed. As Adar's hands connected with your skin to drag the fragrant bar along your stomach, your shoulders dropped.

Slowly, he scrubbed at the soft parts of your front. Palms applied gentle pressure, scrubbing away the grime, with fingertips trailing behind, blunt nails raking over clean skin, leaving discoloured lines that disappeared as soon as they were made. Not leaning into the touch was not an option. Your breasts pushed forward, you shamelessly threw your head back and to the side, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

Adar's wet black tresses smelled of smoke on the water. Swallowing the urge to nose at the strong line of his jaw, you pushed yourself further into his hands as they slid up, cleansing your sides and ribcage. Your nipples stood proud and hard, peeking just above the water. Patient as ever, Adar slid the soap once, twice over your breasts and moved on to scrub under your collarbones.

“Adar...” You mumbled, breasts tingling.

“Patience is a virtue,” he chuffed, taking a sharp dive down. He traced your hipbones, squeezed and rubbed the meat on top of them before using them as handles to make you take a step forward. Grumbling, you did, and were rewarded with a pinching squeeze at your ass cheek and a click of his tongue. “Impertinent!”

As Adar's hands made quick work of your neck and back, you mumbled. “I am sorry. It has been such a long time...” You trailed off into a mewl as he squeezed the back of your neck as if you were a misbehaving kitten. It never ceased to make your knees weak. There was something so - possessive, commanding - impertinent, damn it! In that gesture. A new wave of heat flooded your face. Whether one borne of indignation or pleasure was yet to be determined by you.

Adar could read you like an open book in any case. He pretended not to notice the audible hitch in your breath whenever he lost his temper and did something particularly audacious. Like now, for example, when he finished stripping the outermost layer of your skin and abruptly pulled you into himself, backing up all the way to the shallow end of the pool. Your pebbling nipples ignored and hips securely held by his lithe, strong arms, you found yourself sat firmly atop his lap.

The basic instinct was to slam your knees together, irregardless of his long legs falling open and his twitching length slipping along your center. Adar allowed no such luxury. With an ease clearly mocking, he pried open your legs to hang over his as he splayed comfortably in shallow waters. Soapy water dulled the sensation somewhat but did nothing to cool the sheer heat coming from his half-erect cock. Squirming, you were rewarded with another twitch and an irritated rumble.

“Melmë.” A warning.

“Adar.” A breathed acknowledgement. A mewling squeal, really.

He tsk-ed and shook his head, followed by a low mumble of quenya that got past your ears when he used his palms to glide over the inside of your thighs right to where he was most wanted.

“Stay still.” He commanded, unvoiced threat obvious in his voice. “We are getting clean.”

“No funny business,” you muttered demurely, moreso to remind yourself. Adar's punishment was never outright cruel - despite his supposed ‘universally evil’ nature he did not ever take unwilling lovers or bestow harm upon them they did not ask for. He did get creative with enforcing consequences, though. His patience was of an Elven standard.

As for punishment, so for praise. Being and staying good was by far more rewarding than riling him up into a lustful frenzy. You sat patiently, choking down every shiver, as he slowly, tenderly massaged the fat above your pubic bone and squeezed the plump parts of your cunt. Even with so little stimulation, little zaps of lightning, miniature thunderbolts erupted from your clit and into the depths of your cunt.

Your eyelashes fluttered, wet and heavy, and you closed your eyes with a sigh, allowing your body to fall lax atop the tall male. He responded with a long, satisfied sigh and a teasing pat to your pussy. Continuing his clever ministrations, Adar was fully prepared for the jerk that him dipping two fingers between your outer lips provoked in your body.

“Talya,” he whispered, hot breath caressing the shell of your ear. Steady.

“Adar!” You whined, embarrassed. Being spoken to as if you were a spooked horse: a new low even for you. The wave of lust it elicited was undeniable. You weren't fully ready to submit to it just yet. Neither was it going to forsake you: with your clit held firmly between Adar's fingers, shameful lust throbbed.

“Lapta, melmë.” He released your clit to dip down to your entrance, creeping lower, past the tender skin of your perineum, and brushed over your puckered rosebud. You could not hold back the whine. “Sshh,” Adar rumbled gently, but relented, bringing his wandering hand back up to rest over your cunt as his cock, now standing tall and proud, poked at the junction of your leg and hip.

Begging every God for Adar to do something and fighting every urge to squirm and press against nearest available surface, you panted loud, aware of his dark eyes intently studying the side of your face. Every look cut sharper than Elvish make blades; you dared not to open your eyes, instead remaining lax-mouthed and knit-browed under Adar's scrutiny.

The longer you waited, the harder he became. When your bottom lip disappeared under your incisor - a small act of rebellion - you felt Adar's own lips stretch into a grin against your temple.

“You are being so good for me,” he said. The pace of his hand atop your mound picked up slightly, parting your outer lips in the process. He was almost touching your clit and you were almost going insane. “Do you feel clean?”

“Yes, Adar,” you said quickly, thoughtlessly. Whatever he was asking for, the answer would be yes irregardless.

“Are you certain?” The male absent-mindedly rubbed his cheek over yours, as if he was deep in important thought. A soft gasp erupted from you; he smiled. “We must be through with what we do, melmë.” His fingers - O Valar! - finally dipped inside tour slit and massaged the sides of your clit. The slippery wetness that surrounded it was unmistakable even underwater. Adar's cock twitched, again, hot and demanding against your leg. “You must tell me if I was thorough.”

“Ah, yes, Adar!” You moaned brokenly as he rubbed the V of his index and middle finger over your clit, rising the hood of it up and down but not quite touching the sensitive pearl itself. “T-thank you, Adar.”

The pace picked up, his fingers being much too close to where you wanted him most and tortuously not enough.

“You are thankful?” He inquired impishly.

“Yesss,” you hissed as a slippery finger accidentally connected with your pearl, causing your whole pelvis to clench pitifully around nothing. It brought your focus towards the empty, achy feeling in the pit of your belly. “Thank you, Adar.”

A quick, silent kiss to your temple was your reward. “Ah!” He huffed. “You are too good to me, melmë. What about your reward?”

“M-my reward?” You gasped.

“Mhm,” Adar hummed non-commitally as his cock jerked in curiosity.

Any reward for you in this scenario was guaranteed to be pleasurable for him and he knew it. He moulded you like putty in his hands, like a sculptor carved angels out of hard blocks of marble. Your body, warm with arousal and quivering at the most miniscule of touches, sang to him in a choir of rushing blood, flushed cheeks and thrumming pulse in areas most sensitive.

Engorged with need, your clit pulsed. Although your head was fogged by an opaque haze, the words of your deepest desire did not come easy.

“Um,” you said eloquently, words tangling on your tongue as soon as your lust-addled mind formulated them into something resembling a coherent sentence.

“Yes?”

This particular whine you could not contain. “Please do not make me say it, Adar...” You whispered wetly.

He chuckled. “How else am I supposed to find out what it is you desire? I cannot read minds, melmë.” He answered, voice tilted, mocking and encouraging in equal parts. Another “accidental” brush over your clit had you in shambles, quivering and stuttering where you sat.

“I want... You inside of me,” you moaned in shameful yearning.

Two long fingers had no problems with finding the puffy edges to your welcoming entrance and curled expertly. It did very little to quell the hunger in the very depths of it but your cunt held onto the digits nonetheless. Adar's cock pulsed as his hips shifted, seemingly, on their own accord and disobedient to their stoic master's will. Adar was rapidly losing his patience.

“N-no,” you protested. “I want...”

“You want my cock?” Voice like thick crushed velvet, molten like hot honey, Adar demanded your obedience. “Carpa! Say it!”

“I want your cock, Adar!” You whined, giving into the urge to bear down on his fingers and simultaneously clench up around them.

It wasn't particularly graceful nor gentle when Adar withdrew his fingers from your aching cunt and lifted you out of the bath just enough for your ass to be raised above water level. Resting your forearms on the hard ground, you blindly pushed back towards him, your bare cunt coming in contact with his hip. Within seconds the blunt, leaking tip of his cock was nosing at your entrance, silken head parting your lips to slip inside of you.

The ache within your loins was strong. Powerful enough for you to forsake any pretense of patience and propriety and impale yourself right on that long, solid cock so hard it knocked the air out of your lungs. At last! The vast emptiness within you filled, your back fell into a natural arch as your buttocks connected with the firmness of Adar's hips and thighs. You felt the deep, calming breath he took as his belly expanded with it.

A muttered curse preceded the drag of his cock as Adar withdrew, slowly, savouring the hug of your slick walls swollen and throbbing with need. Inadvertedly you clenched in response, already missing the head of his cock nestled deep within your cunt. It was all the encouragement he needed to slam inside of you with a feral growl baring his teeth and putting the whites of his eyes on display.

You moaned, long and loud, way exceeded in your capacity to care for the harsh surface hurting the delicate skin of your forearms. Only the steady push and pull of Adar's hips kept you tethered in this reality. Not the ominously shaking bushes and not the low rumble of the ever-awake Uruk campsite derailed you from the journey to your peak.

Adar's hands palmed - no, pawed at your breasts. He tweaked your nipples just the way you liked it, pistoning his hips in and out of you at a rapid pace. Savouring your moans and clenching of your cunt around him. Groaning with the force of your combined desire, jagged and jumbled mixture of Quenya and Common Tongue.

Tethering on the edge, you mewled for him.

“Adar...”

It seemed like he'd lied previously about his mind reading ability or a lack of thereof. He knew exactly what you needed and how you needed it, brining his palm to force it between your legs. You clit pulsed as he rubbed at it, adding the squelching noises of your cunt into the cacophony of your moans and splashing of water. His other hand grasped your throat, pulling your body backwards into him like a taut bowstring.

Moist and spit-slick, his mouth covered yours just as the heat in your belly exploded like an inferno. Heatwaves and aftershocks followed and Adar fucked you right through them, pulse after pulse echoing on his cock, prolonging your orgasm and wringing out his. His cock spasmed within you and he moaned right into yourself mouth, tongue snagging on your teeth, yours and his clashing.

You couldn't care less. The full feeling of his cock plugging your cunt full of his seed and the slack, sated if fleeting expression on his face was your own little spot of heaven in the utter (and often literal) Mordor of your surroundings. You sucked on Adar's tongue - gently, akin to a kitten - and safely deposited the memory of this into the very depths of your mind. Comforts had a tendency not to last.

You lamented the loss of Adar within you as soon as he softened enough to wetly slip out. An absence of his cock within you was so hard, it became a presence. Dripping with seed, your pussy clenched around nothing - ever the insatiable thing - and you made efforts to escape Adar's grasp.

Futile.

“We must get clean again,” he stated matter-of-fact, gathering you even closer to himself as his fingers turned your forearms up to display the dirt and scratches that resulted from your chaotic coupling.

When they were clean, Adar's lips traced each line, single-minded and petal-soft. His eyes were eons away.

Polished up the Uruks here a little bit and give them some half-decent semblance of a society, if to make some sense of what Adar is/does. If my Quenya sucks, I am sorry. I'm better with Sindarin :c

we are getting nasty in the bath because, well, I've seen the state of his camps and I'm pretty sure a UTI in those circumstances may actually be deadly. some kind of sauronian morgothian super-evil-bacteria is what we don't need in our sexy times 💀

Contrary to the single playlist theme of this kinktober compilation, I had Adam Sandler's stand up show playing in the background when I wrote this. Specifically the song about Chris Farley repeated like 3 times. Who knew my personal style icon could sing that well!? Damn! Go Adam!

[sunderwight]

SVSSS AU where Shen Yuan's younger sister does a villainess transmigration.

The world she ends up in was originally a dating game and visual novel with some light RPG and crafting elements. Playing as purehearted main girl Qiu Haitang, one could choose any number of routes to pursue, from dashing Liu Qingge, to scholarly Mu Qingfang, sexy ice demon Linguang Jun, cute-but-domineering younger half-demon Luo Binghe, and so on. It was an interesting game, though it notoriously inspired some frustration when some of the more interesting side characters (like Yue Qingyuan) were completely unavailable as romantic options, and inspired at lot of rumors about hidden content and demands on future DLC expansions.-

Shen Meimei hadn't particularly liked the game. Sure, she played every route to 100% completion, bought all the extras, the official soundtrack, and the merch (fanmade as well as what slim-pickings existed officially), but that shouldn't be mistaken for approval. Much of that was in fact a desperate quest to figure out what the hell was even going on! Ignore the play time listed for this scathing Steam review, everyone! It shouldn't be factored into any assessments!

The game had several problems, in Shen Meimei's opinion.

The main issue was the lack of follow-through on the buildup of the backstory. Qiu Haitang's whole family was killed one night, maybe-probably by her sketchy as fuck ex-fiancee, who was also a hostage being kept by the Qiu family as leverage against a rival family. Which begged so many questions! Shen Meimei had suspected all along that there was more to it than met the eye (not just because the evil family shared her surname) but it was never deeply delved into. The whole thing only even got resolution in some of the routes, and the most thorough was Luo Binghe's. Luo Binghe had a huge vendetta against Shen Qingqiu, Haitang's sketchy former fiance, which left a lot of room for doubt about his investigating the issue. Was Shen Qingqiu really to blame? Or was Luo Binghe just taking advantage of an opportunity to pin SOME crime on him, since he couldn't really get him for the shit he actually did to Luo Binghe himself? What about the hints regarding that Wu Yanzi guy? Why did those never seem to amount to much? Were the Qiu family really stupid enough to betroth their only daughter to a hostage, or was something else going on? And what about Xiao Qi, the slave boy servant of the Qiu who was mentioned a few times as another possible survivor or witness, but who never comes up again?

Shen Meimei played through everything, certain that there had to be some way to actually solve or gain clarity on the Mystery of the Qiu Family Murders, but even after completing the main routes and unlocking and completing the hidden ones -- nothing! It was all just swept aside in favor of tepid romance arcs, made all the more insufferable because of the compelling subtext between the male love interests. Like, why were any of these guys even interested in Haitang when they so clearly had more going on with each other?

Annoyance over a game Shen Meimei lost too many hours of her life to was one thing, of course.

Transmigrating into the younger sister of notoriously sketchy ex-fiance Shen Qingqiu was another!

Bad news: in the routes where Shen Qingqiu is prosecuted for his crimes, his whole family goes down with him. So if this goes poorly, not only will he be punished, but so will Shen Meimei!

Worse news: this fictional version of her family is almost identical to her actual real family. To the point where she would be checking everyone else for transmigration, except that no one but her seems aware that anything is odd. Shen Qingqiu acts exactly like her older brother, right down to his particular flavor of prickly social behavior and cynicism. And their middle brother is a chronically ill nerd who hate-reads trash novels and is completely fascinated by weird monsters (a much more worrisome trait in a world that actually has a lot of those...)

In short, her life is on the line, and so is her family's!

Damn you, Veiled Heroine Games! If you hadn't abandoned so many plot threats, Shen Meimei might actually know what was going on and be able to neatly circumvent everything! But now she has to figure out how to win the protagonist back over, rescue her brothers, and solve (and possibly further cover up...) the mysterious Qiu family murders, all while keeping Luo Binghe away from Shen Jiu, and preventing Qiu Haitang from completing any of the romance plotlines that will cause troubles for them! Which is most of them!

[threepandas]

Bad End: No Question

The republic fell slowly, then all at once. Rot building like a creeping cancer, in all the places the shining lights of luxury did not touch. Festering and untreated, all while I could do nothing to stop it. I knew it was coming, could see the story unfolding, yet? Was powerless to stop it.

No one listened.

Why would they? I was just a naive child, spouting nonsense. After all, they all said, they all believed... the Republic Was Forever.

Until it was not. Until it all died. And from the bleeding, screaming, ruin? The Empire came, swallowing everything whole. Right up to the end. While in my head, I knew how the story would unfold. Had tried and tried, to no avail, helpless and small as only children can be, as the tidal wave finally hit.

Believed, even as they lay dying. Even as I watch as the people cheer, as blood ran thick in the streets, clogging the gutters. The luxurites dead. Both guilty and innocent alike. The boot heels, upon the necks of the poor, no longer. Or so their leaders proclaimed...

Easy scapegoats. Obvious targets. The villians for their narrative, pay no mind to what happens next. The money and power, the land. We are HEROS! For the PEOPLE! You can TRUST US.

Ha.

Of course.

All hail the Emperor. Wealthier then any man has ever been. Truely, we are Free.

Yes, when the revolution came, I wasn't with them, my family. My "proper" social circles. That's probably all that spared me. I would have been hunted down, otherwise. Innocent or not. Can't have any of the old power bases lingering about, after all. People might get the idea to rally. Might miss the Old, when the New loses it's shine. Child or not, we can't have THAT, now can we?

The staff and volunteers of the soup kitchen, hid me with the other children as the adults boarded up the windows and doors. I held a young mother's child, looked her in the terrified eyes and swore, on my life, that I would gaurd her daughter with my life. I remember expecting to raise that child. To never see her again. Not alive.

Remember wondering, how far I could stretch the coin, if I pawned the pretty little bits of jewelry my parents gave me. Assuming they weren't ripped right off me, the second we got out. I had plans to hide them. Begun calculations. So many little mouths to feed. We had to stick together. We MUST stick together.

Then it was over.

My "disgrace" of an uncle came for me. Found me in the near ruins of my "silly little project". He was the one who had wanted to work. Had a stable worker lover everyone knew about but no one talked about. He was covered in bit of hay. Smelled strongly of horses. His lover had grabbed him and dragged him to safety, hidden him, desperately, among the stalls.

Out of our entire House...

An entire House, once noble, now wealthy. Out of HUNDREDS of people? Built over centuries, branches upon branches, marriages and adoptions. Wards and in-laws. Newborns to lovers to elders on their deathbeds? Of them all, so few remained. And yet... I could not even blame the servants who abandoned us. Who turned on their Slave Masters in all but technicality. They had been treated so cruely, for so long.

.....but the children? What crime did they commit?

I stood in the ruins of Manor after Manor, great house after great house, and wondered. Would I let this make me a monster too? Was this anger or grief I felt? Would any of us ever be free, from the sickening rot that had crept so slowly into the hearts of these people? Both, the ones I had called kin, and the very people who killed them. But oh... there were so many bodies to bury. So, so many bodies.

Some of them... so very, terribly, small.

But as we put out embers and buried the dead? The oh so glorious empire was rising. A fat and lumberous beast, settling with already groaning bones into the still smoking pit, where the Republic lay dead. And, benevolently, the Emperor saw no reason to kill us. We were informed by pristine letter, hand delivered, as we stood smoke stained and filthy, among the pyres.

At least... thank the gods. At least my Uncle remembered.

He and I, fellow outcasts and trouble makers, he recalled my "nonsense". How it had very much come true. So he took the Emperor's letter. Smiled benignly, with the bland promise of nothing. And gently corralled us few who remained into the only remaining dining hall, to pour over the letters as a House. A Clan. Together.

He looked to me with haunted eyes... and wanted to know.

I phrased it as a vision. It would be easier to swallow that way. Not unheard of, in legend. Not out of the realm of possibility. Just absurdly, absurdly rare. But... did we not live in world shaking times? It would make sense, it felt, that the gods would at least MENTION such things...

A novel, a lifetime ago. We were hardly the Protagonists. Not related in any way. Dramatics and death would surround them. A dark age followed, supposedly, by light. But... was the real world ever so simple? I didn't know. I could name all the players. What would occur.

It would be up to US to protect ourselves.

And we WOULD need to protect ourselves. For the Empire was not a kind place. Nor fair. It was the rot of the Republic laid bare. Without pretense. And soon... the purges would begin.

I was, of course, right. The people's blood soaked victory soon gave way to dismay, as they became targets. Divided. Conquered. Inquisitors, hand chosen by his most graciousness, the Emperor himself. I held my tounge, kept my piece... and hated it. Undermined what I could. Rebuilt my soup kitchen.

Attended court.

Because, of course, all we loyal subjects MUST attend court. Don't we love our Emperor so? See how we fawn! We simper and bask in his greatness! Oh we hang on your every WORD, most royal Majesty! We are entranced! Loyal, loyal subjects, all. Such decadent parties as the people starve.

Didn't my family perish for such similar actions? But, ah, they deserved it. Of course. And THIS is for MORALE!

I sip wine looted from the Redcrest family's cellars. They were dead now. Were proud of their wines. They made them for centuries. There shall never be more bottles, yet frivolous, we drink them away. What crime did they commit? Their workers? I close my eyes and keep my smile fixed.

A pleasant expression, because everything is Fine. Remember who you fight for, survive for, you are the canary in the mine. If you go silent, they know to run. The longer you live, the more people you can help, you can do this. Remember... sometimes rebellion is refusing to die. Refusing to let them pull hope from your desperate, bleeding, claws.

Just smile.

Everything is Fine! See? We're Smiling!

"Such a lonely seat. Not going to dance? Mingle? One might think you're not having fun." Comes from behind me, the voice an almost silibant rasp, rumbling thunder and the whispered hiss of a blade. If ever there was a voice made for threats and the confession of terrible things, it was this. "But how could that be? Such a loyal servant of his Majesty would never be so divisive and disrespectful. You must surely be ill. So, tell me then, your excuse?"

The only reason I do not jump, and splash on more reminder of tragedy right down my front, in a display I can not afford, is that I freeze up. Jumping would look guilty of something. It would not matter that he walks all but silently. That I did not notice him and was startled. That it is a simple, human, reaction. Why am I so JUMPY? Guilty conscious? Perhaps an Inquisitor and I should... Talk.

And dropping my wine? Making a SCENE? Am I seeking to undermine his Majesty?

That's ON TOP of the fact, that... frankly? My House can not AFFORD to replace a wine stained dress. With his Majesty's demands for constant decadence yet performative humility, his hoarding of wealth and demands of tribute? We are barely scrapping by. Most "graciously spared" survivors are.

Not ALLOWED to become lower class. Disappear into the masses and work or live quiet, modest lives. No. We must PROVE our LOYALTY to his Majesty. Constantly. Forever. Right up until we fail and are punished for it. In a sick game, no one can ever hope to win but him.

We are to continue on, as though he did not burn the world down. Yet in revamped parody of what was. Like a social outcast, holding towns hostage, to play out "high school prom" as the MOST popular kid, forever and ever and always more. Or ELSE. Because he never grew up and never got over it. Because people didn't like him. So he'll MAKE them. Kill them if they refuse.

The fifteenth version of this dress. Lace carefully taken off and redone elsewhere, I cycle through "new dresses" and trade with allies who are about my size. Who could possibly afford to meet the man's mad demands? When we are barely feeding are own? When he has seized our assets yet will not let us work?

We are dying.

Painted in what inherited gold, silks, and jewels remain. Terrified. We are dying.

"Nothing to say? How quiet. One might think you are... afraid. But how could that be? You would know, as a loyal servant of his Majesty, that you have nothing to fear from us. No Inquisitor would harm one of the loyal subjects, of our beloved ruler. You are perfectly safe... that is, of course, assuming... you are, in fact, Loyal."

The near shifting of heavy cloth against heavy cloth, the sigh as it slid against armor, markes a deadly presence behind me. Light, almost silent, steps are nearly lost under the music, as he moves. Circling me like a hunter. I force myself to turn towards him instead of shying away. Claw control back of my instinct frozen limbs, with desperate hands. I cannot, CANNOT afford this.

"Ah, but you are sick. Headache, perhaps? The drink too strong?"

Red eyes bore into me from a silver mask. Infamous claws, on hands that have done so much, are tucked behind his back like gentleman, out on a stroll. Bone white robes, over armored black under robes. Monochromatic, blood red, and silver steel.

The Grand Inquisitor.

"Perhaps you've tired yourself. With all that dancing you did not do. So many questions. So few answers. But then, ah, I've been speaking so rudely, my dear. Talking over you. How has your evening been, hmm? Pleasant, I take it?" His voice was as light and almost charming, as a gentle hand; wrapped delicately around the throat. Not squeezing, not yet, just a simple remind that it could. If he did not like, what you had or were about to say. "Come, sit, I insist."

The smile on my face felt like it was a dam under pressure. Like my teeth could only barely held back the screaming in my head. The mask of my expression, covered in hair line fractures, only just holding together as I nodded. Followed along. Hysterical comparisons to the march before firing squads, danced in the back of my head. I shoved them back. Down and far away. I... I had to be present. Alert.

The chandelier's light caught with terrible beauty, on the brutal points of his claws. As he gestured, almost a mockery of the polite gentleman. He would be one, if not for the unspeakable things he had done. He was certainly polite. His etiquette immaculate.

Social dances. A mockery of comfort. Mock, mock, mock. His mere presence, his brutality, desecrated it all. Made profane the familiar. For who? WHO? Could break bread with the butcher of men? Could smile politely and serve them thoughtful bits of nothing? Treat them as your own? Yet... yet we were all to afraid to resist. To refuse.

Did they delight? Forcing us to welcome them, where they clearly were not wanted? Where we could not refuse them? Perverting the purpose of our traditions and our ways? Was... was it funny? Or just another tool to use against us?

Smile, dip your head, a small curtsy or bow. The guest invited sits first, serve drinks, time appropriate food if you have it. In my head I knew each step. The etiquette of the classes and why each was the way it was. He did not reach for the pitcher on the table. Merely settled back into his chair, like a throne.

Was he deliberately breaking the social norm? To create discomfort and pressure me to talk? Did he not know? His past was shrouded in mystery. Perhaps he simply did not feel like it. Who, here, could insist? Shun him for his rudeness?

I tried not to sweat, under his heavy gaze. Did not partake. Sat, back straight, my gentle mask-like smile fixed, as I stared over his shoulder. A pretty doll. Ragged and worn around the edges. Trying desperately to appear The Good And Loyal Citizen, least something... Unfortunate, happen.

"What a lovely dress." He mused into the tense silence, breaking it to brutal shards. "Yet, I can not help but notice the shade. The cut and design. Madame Signe's work, isn't it? It suits you." Everything inside me went cold. It was. But if he recognized it...

"Yet? I can not help but wonder, my dear. Why the lace is in the wrong place? You wouldn't happen to be trying to pass off that dress as something new, would you? Trying to subvert and undermine his Majesty's very clear command? That would be treasonous. And you, such a loyal subject, would never."

He knew.

I didn't know how much he knew, but he DID.

Struggling not to shake, not to give everything away, I lied. Of course, I did. Right through my teeth. I would, I had, and I promised. Straight to the end. Lie and lie, until I had nothing left in me. I know nothing, I know no one, there is nothing here to find. Lies upon lies, all while those I love flee for their lives. Praying to gods I don't think can even hear me, that it will be enough.

The slight tilt of his head somehow projected a sense of mocking indulgence. One long leg crossed the other, lounging like a warlord. The clawed gauntlets on full, gruesome display. Every part of him, from the set of his shoulders to the angle he sat, radiated amusement. As though he were watching a silly little child, playing foolish little games. Getting into mischief, then trying to hide the obvious evidence.

Was I quite done? His silence seem to say. He can wait.

I tilted my chin up with a strength and defiance I did not feel. Yes, I was done. Let come what may. I... I tried.

"So afraid, dear citizen. Acting as though I'm some sort of monster in the night, out to butcher and hunt the innocent. One might get the wrong impression. You might even hurt my feelings." He laughs, a sound that seems to roll and fall dangerously, past grinning teeth. Sharp and deadly. "But of course... I understand, I do. About your dress. You can not help it."

"After all, you have not changed a bit."

....what?

"Still compelled, against all rhyme and reason, to tend to the wretched under classes. The filth and wastrels. Beggars and whores. Instead of purchasing dresses for parties? You, oh loyal Citizen, are of course, exemplifying his Majesty's great Mercy."

That's not what... He KNOWS it's not... Where is he GOING with this?

"Yes, we must make exceptions, perhaps. Have mercy. After all... you had nothing but the best of intentions. And how can I hold that against you? When you can not help what you are? Soft and foolish. So very merciful and giving. Humane."

He dropped the word like it was a joke. Almost snide, laughter haunting the edges of it like a pack of hunting hounds. As though humanity to others, itself, was laughable. What a joke, he seemed to suggest, the mere concept of mercy. Of compassion for the sake of it.

So, why? What game was he playing? If he had to mercy to give me? Why even suggest...?

"Do you remember, the Revolution? That glorious rise, as the old fell away. As shackles were broken. As class lines no longer bound us. As we, both children, sat in the dark?"

Impossible.

No... no it... please, God, it can't....

The music was very far away. Muted, as though through blankets. Conversations becoming indistinct. Memories of stale air and dust. Packed earth beneath me and cold stone pressing against my back. The terrible, uncertain creek, of cheap woods from both the crates and ceiling above us. Everything that COULD be stacked against the doors, was.

Wondering if we would survive fire. If they, in their anger and hate, would think of it. Oh god, oh god, we were just kids-!

White hair, like bone, forever silent and staring. Never came close but showed up every time I did, they noted. A crush. Local boy, they mused. He was too thin. Bruises where there shouldn't be. Scars on skin too young. He didn't run when I went to him, but never came to me. I tried to feed him. Just one more story. So many tragedies, that I could do so little to change. All I had was soup.

"Ah~ there it is. You recognize me now. It's been so long, hasn't it, my dear?" Something pleased and horrifying, curled like spreading poison through his tone. "I am a man, grown, now. Have become quite accomplished, if I do say so myself. Wealthy, influential, well connected. Powerful. No longer weak and unworthy of your time."

"In fact," He leaned forward, as though telling a secret. Almost playful, despite the horror of his words. "It's my turn to control you. To be the powerful one. To have everything while you have nothing."

"I will admit... I have been waiting for this for a very long time. You were so beautiful. Trapped in you wretched blood bought finery, chained to the House that would keep us apart. I knew even then, that I would have you, that I was the ONLY one that could be allowed to have you. No one else. And oh, his Majesty has been so very, very obliging."

Folded papers were withdrawn from his robes. Offered almost carelessly. If it weren't for the intensity of his stare? I would believe he didn't care, how I reacted. With shaking hands. I smooth the pages as I open it. From the desk of the Emperor himself... a... a marriage contract.

"Exactly as I wanted. You'll never escape me again. Smile, my dear."

"We're getting married."

[aphroditelovesu]

⸻ The Lost Queen - XIV ⸻

— summary: You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn’t understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren’t safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won’t let you go so easily.

— genre: yandere, dark!au.

— warnings: time travel, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of torture, kidnapping, angst, fluffy (very rarely), dub-con, eventual smut, pregnancy.

— pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader, yandere!generals x female!reader.

— word count: 3,040.

— tag list: @devils-blackrose, @faerykingdom, @hadesnewpersephone, @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @kadu-5607, @zoleea-exultant, @borntoexplore11-blog, @silmawensgarden, @elvinapandra, @jennifer0305 , @his0kaswife, @animetye-23.

— the lost queen series masterlist.

Chapter 14

It had suddenly started raining. A good omen, you thought, but when you heard the screams outside your tent you realized that it wasn't for the Persians.

As the raindrops fell from the sky, you moved restlessly inside your tent in the Persian war camp. Your anxiety and stress levels were high and you were afraid that this could affect your pregnancy.

The conversation with Darius and Bessus — you shuddered just remembering the last man, — hadn't been productive and you feared what that might mean. By now Alexander had probably already been notified of your disappearance and was going crazy.

Nothing good would come of Alexander's anger. You placed your hand on your stomach, on your not-yet-growing belly, and took a deep breath. You needed to calm down, all this stress wouldn't do you any good, it would only make you more anxious.

"Excuse me." You were startled when you heard a low voice with a strong Persian accent next to you. You looked at the owner of the voice and relaxed when you saw that it was Bagoas, the eunuch. His footsteps — was that him? You weren't sure — were really silent.

Darius had assigned this eunuch to you as your servant, in this case, personal slave, during your time here. Bagoas would be perfect to satisfy your wishes, the King had said. You felt like slapping him. You didn't need a slave and you didn't want one. Even in Alexander's camp you refused to keep slaves but rather free servants to serve you.

You nodded, waiting for him to continue talking. Bagoas kept his gaze down, not daring to look at your face. He was a slave, you remembered. And like all slaves he was trained to be submissive, not to look free people in the eye.

Your heart ached remembering this, remembering that slavery was common and accepted. That what they did to Bagoas and many others was natural.

Bagoas spoke softly, "Do you need anything?" His voice had a very strong Persian accent but you understood him perfectly.

You shook your head, "No thanks, Bagoas. I'm fine."

Bagoas nodded and silently moved to leave, until you called out to him.

"Bagoas?" You called his name, "I'd like to ask you a few questions, if that's okay with you."

Not that he had a choice, you mentally cursed yourself.

Bagoas nodded slowly and stood in front of you. You pointed to a chair next to you, silently telling him to sit down. Bagoas did as he was told.

''You...'' You started to say, but realized you didn’t know what you really wanted to say. Realizing this, you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Bagoas, in turn, remained quiet.

You cleared your throat and tried again, ''Would you like some wine or water?''

Bagoas blinked slowly at your request, clearly surprised. He nodded slowly after a few minutes of being completely still. You smiled and took the pitcher of wine and poured it into a cup for him, who hesitantly accepted the cup.

"It's not poisoned." You joked softly, trying to lighten the mood.

Bagoas glanced at you lightly and you could see something amusing sparkle in the eunuch's dark eyes. He raised the cup to his lips and took a sip of wine, his eyes fixed on his feet. You smiled lightly and drank some water.

"Would you like something to eat, Bagoas?" You asked, pointing to a silver tray that held cheese, bread, and a piece of honey cake. Bagoas looked at the tray and shook his head.

You frowned. Bagoas was thin, very thin.

"Are you sure? The honey cake is delicious." You tried again but the eunuch just denied it.

"I thank you but no, your Majesty." Bagoas said, his eyes never meeting yours.

"I understood." You sighed and decided there was no reason to say anything, "You're dismissed then."

Bagoas placed the cup on the small table and bowed gracefully to you and silent as he had entered, he left.

You leaned back in your chair, rubbing your sore neck. You closed your eyes but opened them quickly when the tent flap was lifted and you locked eyes with the intruder.

Perdiccas.

"What do you want?" You practically growled, not bothering to try to be polite.

Perdiccas frowned and sat down next to you, "I have news, my love."

You tried not to make a disgusted expression when he called you “my love”.

"And what would that news be?" You asked uninterested. Perdiccas grabbed your hand and squeezed it gently. You frowned at his boldness.

Perdiccas rubbed your fingers, "We are going to Babylon."

You choked on the water you were drinking and the cup was placed sloppily on the table.

"What?!" You questioned him, standing up quickly. Perdiccas didn't seem bothered by your outburst, however.

"We are going to Babylon." He repeated as if you were a child with a learning disability, "I talked to Darius and he agreed that it's safer for you than staying here."

"I am not going." You growled, not even bothering to try and contain your anger. You were tired of men trying to tell you what to do. It could be the custom, the normal thing at that time, but you weren't from that time and you didn't care anymore.

Perdiccas raised an eyebrow, "That's not your choice."

"You don't give me orders." You said confidently. Perdiccas seemed to be getting angry.

Good. That would make two of you.

Perdiccas grabbed your face with one hand and forced you to look into his eyes, "We're going to Babylon and that's final."

Before you could say anything, Perdiccas pressed his lips against yours violently, practically swallowing you. You gasped and tried to pull away but his touch kept you in place.

It was wrong and disgusting on so many levels to feel him kiss you again. At that time, you were desperate and wanted comfort and that's why you kissed him but now it felt wrong, not only because he was forcing you, but also because you didn't want him anymore. You didn't even notice when the attraction you felt for Perdiccas started to wane, you just knew it disappeared.

Now all that was left was a spark of what had once been your friendship. But did this friendship really exist?

When Perdiccas finally released you from the kiss, you noticed that his lips were slightly swollen and you shivered in disgust as you watched him lick them. Before you could think or say anything, you raised your hand and slapped Perdiccas across the face, the sound echoing through the tent.

Perdiccas' face turned to the side from the impact and you knew it hurt when he placed his hand where he had just hit and hissed in pain.

Good.

Perdiccas looked at you in disbelief. He looked at you as if he had seen a ghost and not the woman he knew.

"W-What happened to you?" He asked, still holding his hand over the area where he was hit.

You stared at him with contempt shining in your eyes.

"I happened." You said, your eyes narrowing as the words were spoken, "And don't you ever touch me again without my permission, understand?" Your words were harsh and one could feel the anger reflected in them. Perdiccas swallowed hard as if he had just had a divine revelation.

He finally noticed, you realized it. Perdiccas finally realized that you are no longer the desperate and terrified woman he had met a few months ago.

You were a Queen and you were starting to act like it.

Alexander's tent was eerily silent on that restless night. One might think that the great King was resting, but the flickering light of the flames danced across the walls of the tent, betraying the agitation that consumed him. Alexander found no peace, not while his beloved wife was missing.

The entire Macedonian camp shared his anguish. News of the Queen's kidnapping had spread like wildfire, plunging soldiers and officers into a mixture of fury and despair. No one dared to blame Alexander for his insomnia, as everyone knew that the emptiness next to him in bed was an open wound in his heart. He spent hours pacing back and forth, his troubled thoughts reflected in the flickering shadows the flames cast.

Inside the tent, the atmosphere was filled with tension. Maps and parchments were spread out on the table, fingerprints and wax stains bearing witness to long nights of planning and worrying. The heavy curtains that bounded the space swayed gently in the night breeze, but they failed to carry away the feeling of helplessness that permeated the air.

Every sound outside the tent, whether the distant noise of the watchmen or the low murmur of the soldiers on watch, seemed to amplify Alexander's inner silence. His eyes, fixed on the flames, burned with the determination of a man who would not allow his wife to remain a captive any longer. The King of the Macedonians was prepared to move heaven and earth to bring her back, and everyone who knew him knew that nothing would stand in her way.

The entire Macedonian camp reacted with deep consternation to the news of the Queen's kidnapping. The atmosphere, already tense due to the nature of the military campaigns, became even more charged with discontent and suspicion, especially among Perdiccas' men. These soldiers, in particular, were disgusted by their general's actions. How could Perdiccas betray everyone's trust by kidnapping the Queen? By committing such an act, he not only condemned himself, but also cast a shadow of distrust on his subordinates.

The growing distrust between Perdiccas' men and the other soldiers in the camp was palpable. Loyalty, a fundamental pillar of the Macedonian army, was seriously shaken. Alexander had established that any fight between soldiers would be punished by death, a drastic measure to maintain order and discipline. However, the ban seemed to be ignored. Physical conflicts broke out with alarming frequency, and punishments were equally frequent, but they failed to stem the tide of violence and resentment.

The situation reached a critical point when even two of the most prominent generals came into conflict. Hephaestion and Craterus, known for their skills and loyalty to the King, became involved in a fight that shocked the camp. The details of the incident were hazy, but the essence of the conflict seemed clear: Craterus blamed Alexander for the Queen's kidnapping, a serious accusation that infuriated Hephaestion. He, in an effort to defend the honor of his friend and King, confronted Craterus, but the fight only served to increase anxiety and chaos among the troops.

The tension in the camp was almost palpable. Each soldier knew that the unit was crucial to the survival and success of their campaigns, but the shadow of Perdiccas' kidnapping and betrayal put everything at risk. Uncertainty about the Queen's future and safety hung over everyone, exacerbating the tension and making each day more difficult to bear.

The other generals were also overcome with fury at the betrayal. Cleitus, who had now recovered well although he was still too weak to fight, personally wanted to ride a horse with a group of soldiers and scouts to search for the Queen. However, Alexander did not allow it, which resulted in a heated argument that had to be ended by Ptolemy.

Hephaestion spent most of his time at Alexander's side, desperately trying to calm his friend. He was rarely seen outside the King's tent these days, his loyalty and concern evident in his every gesture. Ptolemy, on the other hand, stood out for his calm and rationality. Although he was also deeply upset by the Queen's kidnapping and Perdiccas betrayal, he tried to keep a cool head, aware that one more angry mind would not help anything.

Cassander was equally furious, but he controlled his words carefully so as not to say something that could get him killed. The tension made him clench his fists and grind his teeth, but he knew he needed to maintain his composure. Parmenion and Philotas, in turn, maintained a facade of indifference. They didn't show much concern or emotion in public, but everyone knew that deep down, they cared deeply. The Queen had won their sympathy and respect, and the apparent coldness was just a mask to hide genuine concern.

The camp was on the verge of emotional collapse. Every decision, every word, carried weight. The generals knew they needed to remain united and focused, but the shadow of the kidnapping hung over everyone, making any semblance of normality difficult.

Something needed to be done, and Alexander knew it. He had plans, detailed and strategic plans, and he was determined to carry them out above all else. His mind worked incessantly, tracing every movement, every step necessary to rescue his Queen and punish the traitor.

Inside his tent, Alexander prepared himself. His eyes, burning with a mixture of pain and fury, reflected the intensity of his determination. He knew that once he got his hands on Perdiccas, nothing would stop him. Perdiccas would pay dearly for his betrayal.

Alexander was willing to do anything to get his Queen back, to get you back. The thought of you being in danger tormented him, and he would not rest until you were safe by his side again. He summoned his generals, outlined his strategies and prepared his troops, ensuring that each soldier knew the importance of the mission.

With each passing moment, Alexander's resolve solidified. His leadership, fierce and relentless, galvanized the Macedonian army. The search for the Queen was not just a military operation; it was a rescue mission that touched every soldier's heart. Everyone knew that under Alexander's leadership they would be relentless in their pursuit and punishment of Perdiccas.

As the camp buzzed with preparation, Alexander remained focused. Nothing would divert him from his goal. He would do anything, face any obstacle, to bring his beloved Queen back. And when he finally rescued you, justice would be done, and Perdiccas's betrayal would be avenged with all the fury of a betrayed king.

The night was cold and silent, very silent. The rain from earlier had made the air colder and not even the heavy fur clothes seemed to contain the cold outside.

But you thought it was because most people had already gone to sleep, only you were awake and getting ready to leave the Persian camp.

You sighed and looked around, noticing some guards and servants tidying up everything. You sat down on a rock and tried to contain the excitement that was growing inside you. A part of you was furious with the events, especially with what had happened between you and Perdiccas earlier, but the other part was excited at the prospect of seeing a historic place in person, of seeing Babylon at its height.

You just didn't expect it to be like this. You were a hostage and you knew a lot could go wrong. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

"A kiss for your thoughts." You opened your eyes when you heard a voice. You sighed as you realized it was Aslan— or whatever he really called himself — talking to you.

"What do you want?" You asked, adjusting your robes.

Aslan frowned and said sarcastically, "In a bad mood, cara mia?"

"Just tired." That wasn't a lie, not completely. You were exhausted and couldn't sleep well at night with everything that was going on.

"Hmm..." Aslan murmured and sat down next to you, looking at the night sky, "I heard about what happened in your tent with Perdiccas today."

You gave him a sideways glance, ''Leave it alone.''

Aslan shook his head and you could swear there was barely contained anger on his face, "No, I won't let it alone. That wasn't right... Him forcing himself on you like that." The way his words seemed sincere took you by surprise.

You raised an eyebrow and glared at him, ''And do you care?''

"I'm not the bad guy here, (Y/N)." Aslan said and you scoffed, "Despite what you may think, I genuinely care about you."

"Care about me?" You laughed darkly, "If you care about me, then why the hell did you bring me here? What's the point of all this?!"

Aslan sighed, "You'll understand eventually. Now is not the time for you to know the truth, but..." He took your cold hand and rubbed it, trying to warm you up, "I promise I'll take care of you."

You couldn't help how your body shivered at his words. You found yourself watching him closely, his attractive features. Aslan was a handsome man, you finally realized, and although you didn't trust him, there was something about him that attracted you.

He seemed familiar to you somehow.

Aslan brought his face closer to yours and you felt your heart beat faster. He brought his lips to your ear and whispered, "I promise I'll make him pay for laying his hands on you."

You closed your eyes, feeling strangely warm inside at his words, at the promise in them. Aslan's words brought you comfort, something you hadn't felt in a while.

He smiled and kissed your cheek lovingly, "I need to go. I have things to do but I'll take care of you." Aslan let go of your hand and stood in front of you, he placed his hand on your face and lifted your chin, making you look into his dark eyes.

You couldn’t look away and you didn’t want to. Aslan rubbed your chin and brought his face closer to yours, his lips brushing yours, he said, "I promise I will always take care of you."

The frigid night air didn't seem so cold anymore as Aslan's words were heard by you over and over again. You were standing still, not knowing how to react, just watching him walk away from the camp.

There was a lot to be discovered, you realized. Maybe Babylon had the answers you needed.

— lady l: a calmer chapter but that's because chapter 15, which I'm already writing, will be more chaotic. Aslan is a complex character but does he care about Reader? That leaves the doubt... 👀

I hope you liked it, forgive me for any mistakes and this week I'll release the next chapter! Unti thenl!! ❤️

[thedomesticanthropologist]

I'm not sure how many people pay attention to this, but Astarions tent area (inside and out) is not just blood splattered and mildly disorganized:

1) Dirty rags, blood and wine spills, rugs and pillows a bit haphazard, no proper bedding inside, empty blood bank jars everywhere, sleeps on a wooden palette rather than a bed roll

But the actual tent (yes I zoomed in and stared heavily at it shdjghfhdj)

It dirty.

It's SPLATTERED with dried mud and dirt, and I also noticed in comparison to his companions his tent is fairly small? And also kinda limp like he didn't wanna bother putting it up.

I bet this man hates putting together and tearing down camp SO MUCH that he just does the bare minimum and then trashes the place anyway. He's not going to voluntarily do laundry, he's not gonna clean the canvas, he's just here to put his shit together in some barely passable way.

And sure the exterior shows how he tries to decorate it in a way that's presentable, but he's decorating with dirty shit he won't scrub 😂

People, myself included to some degree, have chatted about why he is messy trauma wise but honestly I'm coming to the realization that he probably was, even in life, surrounded by servants to some degree.

He gives the air of being from money

I bet this little fool has never in his life had to wash his own clothes or clean a room. Even as a slave, when he was in Cazadors mansion he got trotted between the bunks where he only had minimal space to rest, (and a bunch of siblings he could probably manipulate into washing his socks for him if the servants didn't do it automatically ) and the Boudoir where he was to Look Pretty and Bend Over as requested

He never scrubbed floors in his life

Man's has never once cleaned a toilet

Astarion is living evidence that you can be severely neglected and abused while ALSO being 'spoiled' (in the sense that he never got to develop life skills bc the servants did it for him)

This really ties in with his personality and I think it's a nice touch. Cause what does he focus on keeping clean? HIM. He can do his hair, body washed, clothing IMPECCABLE. Man kept a shirt together for over a century without a single stain on it. But his SPACE ? His THINGS? neglected to the extreme

But yeah anyway, his tent is DIRTY and I'm pretty sure was originally a much more vibrant color too. Zoom in next time you get to camp you'll see what I mean

[baphometsss]

On Solas's romantic history

Okay. I know what the consensus is. That he’s way too smooth in Inquisition to be inexperienced but... (and I’m fully prepared to get shat on for this lmao don’t kill me)

When he kisses Lavellan, that doesn’t read to me like he’s super suave and seductive. It reads more like—endeared by them trying to run away after kissing him, then being so surprised by how good the kiss felt, that he grabs Lavellan, kisses them again, pulls back with a surprised look on his face, and then goes in for more. It’s touch-starved, desperate, hungry. It’s not really all that smooth because he’s literally bending them over backwards lmao like Solas can you chill maybe

He is very smooth when flirting with Lavellan, but he's also an absolute gobshite who's spent thousands of years sassing the hell out of wannabe gods so that's not a surprise. He's witty af and enjoys some back and forth.

Solas is a very lonely man. He keeps everyone at arm’s length because he’s seen what getting close to people can do to him. His biggest fear is dying alone, and he almost gives into that because it’s what he believes he deserves for all he’s done. His life has been so stressful for so long that he's almost totally unable to consider anything else but his battles. He even says explicitly that he's tired.

That doesn’t make me think of someone who was out there in Ancient Elvhenan sleeping around all those years. No doubt he considered it, but he likely didn't pursue much with anyone physical; he enjoyed spending as much time as possible in the Fade. (The banter with Blackwall doesn't count to me personally since Solas himself thinks the whole idea is preposterous, which speaks for itself really.) Especially after being a slave/servant to Mythal seems to have voided him of his agency for some time. Then he led a rebellion and fought for thousands of years against brutal tyrants. Any one of the people he was close to could’ve been trying to kill him. Lavellan, however, has no reason to do so, so he can flirt with them freely. In all that time, it seems as though the only people he allowed to get close to the real him were Felassan and Mythal. I don’t think he slept with either, because the relationship was familial. Felassan was also loyal to Mythal, but didn’t burn his vallaslin off. (Is this a right hand/left hand of the Divine parallel again? Two brothers and their mother? Idk, I need to think about that one). For creatures with bodies made from the blood of Titans, they don’t have blood families. They would’ve had to forge their own, which is what Solas did with Mythal and Felassan.

And then there’s his ‘it has been a long time’. Most have taken this to mean that it’s been a long time since he’s been intimate with someone, but given what we know now and that he spent thousands of years in the Fade while his body was in uthenera… I wonder if he’s actually saying-- ‘it has been a long time since I lived in a body’-- ie. ‘it has been a long time since I felt physical drives, a long time since I have felt so physically real’. To me, this makes a lot more sense than the ‘he’s thousands of years old he can’t possibly be a virgin/inexperienced’ take bc like... My friends. It probably didn’t feel like thousands of years to him bc he’s essentially always existed. Time is different for spirits. It’s not like he’s gonna go: ‘well I’m nearly 4000y/o, better lose my v-card’. Time is no object when you are a timeless being. Then, given the path his life took, it wouldn’t make a lot of sense for him to be that experienced given how hard it is for him to trust.

I also personally headcanon him as heavily demisexual/demiromantic too. His true nature is so non-physical that the idea of him being very promiscuous or something just doesn’t fit his character. He needs a mental connection, to feel something, before sharing much of himself, or allowing himself the vulnerability intimacy brings, something he clearly feels with Lavellan based on how shaken up by it he is.

And it’s also canon that Solas has never been in love before meeting Lavellan. So. If he went however many millennia without falling in love, it’s also possible he went without intimacy for a long time too.

To be clear I’m not trying to say that this is the correct conclusion. My opinion has just changed a little since Veilguard (I used to think he was being smooth etc bc he's old af/v experienced, but with confirmation of former spirit Solas it’s changed my perspective somewhat)

Also:

‘Things have always been easier for me in the Fade’

‘I am not often thrown by things that happen in dreams’ my man is shooketh guys SHOOKETH

[astrow0rldx]

Jeffrey Dahmer Birth Chart Reading

analysis

brah astrology is so real i can't even fathom. what's going on up there?

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· Experienced Astrologer for 7-8 years now. I'm new to networking, tumblr and having an astrology content account & paid readings so just follow my private Instagram account universalstarbaby00 for any inquiry ·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

lets talk about his chart ruler. he's a libra ascendant, so his perception & outlook on life is finding love. he is very attractive, charming, charismatic, and alluring. So with libra ruling his chart, his chart ruler is his Venus. His Venus placement is Taurus in the 8th house. Now the sign is how it's expressed. the behavior & the house is the theme of life & area it resides in. So taurus literally represents food & 8th house represents death. Venus literally represents his turn ons, how he is towards love. Taurus is your physical pleasures, your sensual pleasures, being at home in venus, he strongly connected with that. while libra is aesthetic artistic venus because it is an air sign. taurus is more luxurious, physical venus because it is an earth sign. taurus, actually rules the body, the neck, food, so yea he was into that. BUTTTT in the 8th house. of death, possession, power, sex. 8th house is all about possessions of others & it deals with the darker sides & under world. this is where your trauma is, rebirth/regeneration, injuries/accidents/diseases, destruction & death, to gain power. where you possess others & have desire, hidden & secrets, have control & receive support like money & finances, seduction, temptation, possessiveness, jealousy, obligations, taxes. That's LITERALLY where his love lived. Not only his love & venus but his sun at 0 degrees SHARP! his ego, his sense of self, his will, his identity. & his mercury (his mindset, way you process & think, ideas, communicate) lives there too. SCARYYYYY.

But that mars sign tho. Where your mars is places we get to see what drove him, what motivated him, his primal desires. In the expression & behavior of aries, he was definitely PASSIONATE, aggresive, sitting at home in mars. but firing it up. These Primal Desires living in the 6th house of themes & areas of life like daily routine, "what I have to do", health, pets, slaves, clients, servants, contribution to society. He was determined to do what he had to do with a lot of passion, he was a hard worker & got through obstacles. Really felt adrenaline in completing projects, and with other dark placements like his, when your turned on by eating dead people, you get that passion to want to do that a lot. Like he said once he started he couldn't stop, maybe the victims and the goal he accomplished was fulfilling his desires. Now mars is your primal desires & what motivates you but like we know that's shown in your sexual desires to. So people with this placement are really freaky because they might want to have sex everyday. Now they may like to serve their partners, or get horny in places like work or when people are serving them. I'm literally black so I hope I don't get criticism for saying this, but while 6th house rules slaves & mars lived there, he probably was sexually passionate to the fact that black people could be his slaves & they reminded him of someone that could serve him & do what they "have" to do. Black people aren't slaves ofc, and people aren't associated with slavery. He was probably raised in a family, it was the 60's. His subconscious & information consumption did that to his brain.

Speaking on that! Lets to get to this prominent, Neptune Ascending, Living in the first house. Neptune rules the other dimensions, spirituality, astral projection, sleeping, dreams, fantasies, daydreams, ideas, Movies, Tv shows, Inspiration. That up in the clouds energy. So people with Neptune in its first house trip people out, they confuse people. they project fantasies onto others. deceitful & very confused between reality and their heads. harley have any boundaries. So people like that might be egotistal & always play victim/be passive aggressive. so then i want to look at his ego myself (which is his sun sign) & how he thinks, which we said before is both in the 8th house of hidden, secrets, dark stuff, death & sex.

lastly before I punch in some asteroids in his chart, lets talk about YOU GUYS!! HIS VIEWERS. In his 10th house is his reputation, his aura & public image. when you look at historians & celebrities you see how they fit in this world, and its shown in their 10th house. his Uranus is their. the planet of the freaks & aliens. the one who is theoritical & coming up with something new, different, kinky, inventive, odd. like wtffff or woahhhhh. AND NEXT his 11th house, of social media, networking, groups, ideals, community (which also rules uranus) so that revolutionary, inventive, wishes & goals energy. It's the house of the humanitarian so we can change humanity. Aquarius is an air sign (ruled by the 11th house) very good with people. So 11th house can even be how you make friends, who's your friends. How you network & get around. "I know a guy". Anyways that's the house so area of life. theme of life where his pluto & north node lives. your pluto is your trauma, death & rebirth. your transformation, power & sex. so networking & how he got around humanitarianly was, those areas of life with his friends & social media (netflix), network (whoever broadcasted about him) was his rebirth, his transformation, his DEATH. one of the people in his group/community (jail) killed him. Jeffery Dahmer is dead. 8th house represents death to ruling pluto. his sun mercury & venus is there so his ego mind & love literally killed him. Another planet in the 11th house, of networking, social media like netflix, (this for all the people that know him off the show). North Node, what your supposed to become in this lifetime, your purpose is placed there. He was meant to be networked.

Okay you know I had to put Nessus (7066) in. Nessus is an abuser. The area of life it fell in, themes of life is.... drumroll please...... THE 8TH HOUSE, of death, sex, power, etc. But theres us, we live in the 10th house of his public image, reputation, social status, that's our version of him. (111) Ate & (128) Nemesis lives there. Ate is about infatuation, mischief, blindfold-ness. Nemesis is about your arch enemies. Eros (433) & Lust (4386) conjuncts his mars, blending in & amplifying. VERYYY sexual man. In the sign of Aries of assertiveness, aggression, drive & motivation. towards the 6th house of health, what i have to do, daily routines, job, work, clients, slaves, & pets. Last two asteroids lives in the 5th house. what he did that made him shine, his creativity & drama, his pleasures & orgasm. The first Asteroid is Anubis (1912). Anubis is an Ancient Egyptian God, which ancient Egypt (before known as Kemet) originated civilization. He was the original god of the dead. hmmm. So he fell in his house of how Jeffery likes to play & pleasure himself. Last asteroid, that also fell in that house was Zeus (5731) God of War & Sexual Power. OKAY IM DONE. because whatttttt!

[pearpap-ponders]

Guys.... Today I realized something- So, I feel like we all know that Stolas is a bit of a hypocrite. He does contradict himself with the things he says. He claims that he doesn't care about social class, when he has made it quite apparent every time they speak, to make comments about social class, and talk down on Blitzø unintentionally.

But I mean Stolas literally has imp servants, that the goetia's probably own. Which means Stolas is kind of a slave owner in a way, because imps can be sold off to serve higher classes, I mean even Blitzø was first bought off with $5 and a condom by the goetias. From Blitzø's perspective, OF COURSE STOLAS LOOKS DOWN ON HIM. Stolas literally has imp servants that he treats poorly, who's to say that Stolas won't treat him badly too? I mean how would you feel if you were in a lower class and you had a friend who literally owns people in your social class. PRETTY TERRIBLE. You wouldn't even feel like an equal. Every time Blitzø walks in that house, he is only reminded of Stolas' social class, every time he see's another imp in that house, and every time Stolas speaks to him, it has only ever kept on implementing the importance of social class in Blitzø's mind. I know Stolas' intentions were never meant to harm Blitzø, but his actions certainly do..

[yanderes-galore]

(Despair girls) Nagito concept where he keeps getting threatened by reader? - Dredge anon

Been YEARS since I played Despair Girls so I had to do my research here. Might not be that long, but here's masochistic man.

Yandere! Servant! Nagito with Darling threatening him

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Masochistic, Self-deprecating tendencies, Clingy behavior, Manipulation, Stalking, Nagito is down HORRENDOUS, Dark themes, Forced relationship.

I mean, I think normal Nagito is pretty bad... but Servant?

He's still delusional and deranged, but oddly more controlled.

Probably due to his brainwashing.

He's manipulative force throughout the game, pretending to play slave as he works his own plans.

He's not entirely dangerous, seeming non-violent whenever he appears.

He's unusually calm, polite, and apathetic to the disturbing things he witnesses.

He sees everything as a game and tends to be... Insensitive towards others in this state.

Nagito is implied to be masochistic, casually accepting any sort of mistreatment that may happen to him.

No sense of self-worth in the slightest.

Nagito sees his obsession as a seed of hope.

You mean a lot to him, especially if you only seem to thrive during this game he put together.

He finds it lovely that you're surviving well!

You could hate Nagito and he'd still be obsessive.

You could tell him you want him dead, all while he silently nods and agrees with a lovesick gaze.

He admires you, you're so resilient, so strong...

He bets you have so much hope as his little darling.

He's so delusional about you that, yes, you could threaten him and he'd just... go with it.

After all, as a servant he's meant to be mistreated, yes?

Sure, you should blame him for dragging you into this mess... he deserves it....

You insulting him, threatening him, let's be honest...

He's just oddly into it when it comes to you?

You make him feel despair... which is merely a womb for hope...!

If he lets you take out your anger on him... then you need him, right?

You need him as your stress ball... one to degrade and threaten to your heart's content....

Nagito accepts it when you blame him, yelling you'll kill him when you get the chance.

He can't help but smile, asking if that will make you happy?

Will that give you hope for escape?

If he lets you hurt him, kick him, make him bleed...

Will you be happy, relieved, pleased?

Fine, then... if it gives you hope, cover yourself in his blood if you wish.

It's an honor to be the cause of your despair, just to see you get hopeful at the idea of hurting him.

It's euphoric, actually.

Safe to say, your attempts at threatening him are just met with him encouraging you.

He'll help you with your threats if you wish...!

Your hate for him falters for a moment when he makes you put a hand around his neck after you threaten to strangle him.

You could threaten him with a knife and he'd guide your hand to an area, nudging you to apply pressure.

You could pull a gun on him and he'd help you aim.

He grins, saying he'll comply as you're quickly filled with... disgust.

Your hate for him just makes him fall deeper into obsession.

His obsession is so strong that he'd allow you to destroy him if it meant you'd be hopeful.

Nagito would do anything for hope.

Threatening him doesn't deter him.

It encourages him.

Degrade him, hurt him, kill him...

He'll take it eagerly if it pleases you, if it makes your eyes sparkle with hope for even a second.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

A slave through power and coins

Marcus Acacius, Geta, Caracalla x slave!reader

warning : slavery, hurt/comfort, collar/chain, cage, implied torture, smutish (nothing too explicit), kissing, behavioral disorder (dysfunctional family), written before the movie came out charaters may be different at the end when the movie is out

Summary : In a time when the world was still full of brutality that was considered entertainment, the emperor brothers Geta and Caracalla rose up and Rome was brought to new greatness by Marcus Acacius. But at the end they were all men with power and money…two things that gave you a choice over slaves so what is hidden behind curtains when you turn to your property…a property that you care about a little more than you should.

info : i know i normally try to write everything as accurately as possible and wanted to wait but now i just have to write for it and get some variety back on my blog. I wish everyone a lot of fun reading and until the next work :)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marcus Acacius

He was the Roman general of all troops, a war hero for the people who would go down in history, and a confidant of the emperors, the two brothers who ruled the empire together. It was a story, a legend, he would probably receive statues of gold and other riches...but he did not use his coins and influence for such things.

After his victorious return home, greeted by the people and the brothers as much as he enjoyed the prestige, everything was different behind the heavy curtains and doors of his home, the great estate.

There, where his guards and servants bowed, was his dove, his 'Columba', his jewel, the reason why he vowed to return victorious from every battle, the woman who belonged to his heart...a woman he had met in chains at an auction many moons ago. A woman who had no hope of her own after being robbed of her family, she was alone without a home, but a home that Marcus had given her.

A home where she would run into his army every time the curtains and doors closed behind him, ,,By the gods you're back" she would murmur into his embrace, feeling the smell of war clinging to him, fire, ash, blood and death surrounding him every time he came back.

But he was back to that was what mattered, his rough hands held her tightly he hugged his dove, his beloved, his heart to himself, ,,I will not break my promise never my heart" he reminded her he placed his hand on her cheek a tired but relieved face looked into the pure happiness of his wife she nuzzled his cheek and left a kiss on it.

She noticed his pull back he didn't want her to ever remember the horrors of war but as always she took his hand again, ,,It doesn't bother me anymore knowing you made it Marcus" she said quietly seeing the uncertainty disappear in his dark eyes and his hand move back to hers before he finally gave her a long awaited kiss.

They had each other again and that was the main thing, it was an open secret at least on his green that they shared a heart so they knew as soon as they received a visit or went out into the city he was the general and she was just a slave a nothing someone who had to live under his mercy.

But in the evenings they spent together in the little bathhouse in the hot water she washed him and listened to his stories and was reminded again and again by the countless scars that at the end of the day he was a human being just like her.

He always touched her in the water his fingers always found a way to her as if he was always more afraid of losing her though he beat the battles, ,,Like birds fly you freed me from the cage" she reminded him like every time he wiped the little scar on her neck and wrist, leaving kisses on it and apologies showing in his eyes. Where the chains had been on her body, where he should have saved her earlier, where he had left her alone in a battle.

His doubts that he could have done more were interrupted with kisses and touches, his hands joined with hers, he saw his dove before him, his symbol of a possible peace, and was reminded that he had everything he needed. ,,We'll stay here for now, I promise I won't have to go on another crusade" was the message he broke over dinner, a message that meant they could have months of togetherness and peace.

Months of loving each other, of finally being able to feel him again, his lips on hers, on her fingers, hands, arms on her thighs as he pleasured her and her fingers tangled in his dark curls streaked with gray as the sounds of lust and love echoed in her ears.

She leaned against his chest as she rode him, feeling safe being held by him, his lips blessing and kissing her body. He told her stories and myths he had heard while he listened to her and looked at the works she had made, the plants and other beauties she had created in his absence.

The garden full of plants from the different areas of his successes full of color and beauty in which she listened to his voice when he held her in his arms and read poems from thinkers and poets to her, he enjoyed her when she tried to learn to speak and they both tried out new kinds of devotion. There were days, weeks and months full of devotion and dreams and finally they could be a couple at least until the letters from the emperors were brought.

Letters that told them that although Rome was the only empire on infinity, it had to spread, ,,I'll come back to you my columba, I'll take you back into my heart and make my peace when I see the wings of your beauty," he promised her with the helmet in his hand and a sword at his belt as he pulled her close for perhaps the last time their eyes met.

His fingers trembled with excitement and fear her kisses soothed him before he gave her one last kiss and stepped out into a world behind the curtain where they were nothing more than the general and his slave.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emperor Geta

He was the younger of the two and yet far more interested and functional for the role of a lone warrior but who would he be to break their father's will and put on the golden wreath alone.

For although he was the emperor of Rome, the emperor of the world, and as much as he sometimes more than hated his brother and wanted to strangle this amusement-seeking good-for-nothing, there was something in this world in which there could not be enough war and suffering that truly touched the emperor.

Behind the golden pillars and doors and curtains of the palace, there was something going on from which gods and laws removed and lowered their heads because the word of a human ruler now carried more weight when it came to the worthless life of a slave, a nobody...his 'Dollulus' his pretty doll that belonged to him.

A woman of his age, a woman who had been given a completely different life at birth to him, so they were both stained with blood and yet he had a golden laurel wreath on his head and she had a golden necklace with a chain leading to his hand. For what else had he spent coins on her?

She was worth a price and the Emperor of Rome was willing to pay that price, even if he normally received things as gifts, he had bought her knowing that she would turn out to be more than just a pretty object. ,,A doll on golden strings, you do as I command" was the first thing he had said to her after showing her his gift, a gift he had given her in "her" room.

He had seen the hint of suspicion in her pretty eyes, the hope of betterment that perhaps he, the emperor, a kind-hearted leader of an empire, would treat her well after all...but the realization brought him joy as his fingers wrapped around the end of the golden chain and he pulled. It moved.

Moved as he commanded, ,,Isn't it lovely like this?" he had asked, gripping her chin tightly with his fingers, the golden rings on his finger already leaving marks on her skin but what did he care what he did with his doll, she would last and if she broke he would get a new one....but this time he quickly realized that inside himself he saw more amusement and perhaps attraction for his new toy than he wanted to admit.

She was one of many, but she was not his brother's. He could do what he wanted with her, but she would not break. She seemed to surrender to him completely, her eyes like a doll, the longer the chain wrapped around her body, the clothes on her body always white and gold his colors, the white make-up that adorned his face always visible on her body, the scratches and bites sometimes hidden by clothes and sometimes not.

But no matter how much he used her, in her eyes he found amusement deep inside her, ,,The heart of the human god belongs to a slave in chains" was the only thing she had once said to him when he had pulled her to him by the chain, his grip tight on her body as he had directed her to his bed as so often.

It was a phrase that first made his body tremble with rage, he struck her before he watched in fascination as she also had a hint of a smile on her lips, ,,It's true" was the one thing he had said before he greedily pressed his lips to hers and had a greater control and lust for her than ever before.

His body left marks on her as her sounds of pain and lust echoed in the wide open space. She was his and she knew he could have anyone but he had lost his heart to a slave, she slave princess would be a better title, an object always on a leash beside him, who had no rights but whose heart belonged to the most powerful man in the world.

This satisfaction took away every blow, every bite, every thrust of his actions that he called love and lust she had a chain in her hand, she also had his chain to his heart in her hand, ,,No matter what love torments you cause me...my emperor your inner being, your spirit will not be able to kill me" she brought to him, feeling the break in the chain, the familiar tinkling in the room as angry eyes looked at her.

The makeup in his face smudged slightly as they had been sleeping only minutes before, until he found himself laughing again in amusement, pleased at her understanding, her intelligence and her boldness as Rome grew ever larger, ,,Behind curtains no no but outside everyone reminds you of what you are" he said back simply and coldly before pulling on the collar to force her body to move before leaving her with a final glare in her room, a room he had access to at all times but was never hers but the thought was what mattered.

Because it was true that she would suffer in public, she would feel people's looks and words because they were not allowed to talk about emperors but they were allowed to talk about a slave...in the end she was a puppet and a puppeteer at the same time in a palace with curtains and doors behind which everyone saw her as something else but not as a lover.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emperor Caracalla

He was the elder of them, the first-born son of the emperor, his father, the real golden child of the empire, but his brother, even if only a year younger, seemed to be the spirit for the cause of ruling an empire that would soon take over the whole world.

An empire that lay on the brothers' shared shoulders, but the older one was more bored and interested in battles and amusements than political speeches. His whole life would have been incredibly boring if they hadn't had the colloseum in which galdiators fought and battled beasts and ships...if he hadn't set his eyes on something completely new. His pretty, fragile butterfly, his 'Papilio', a pretty woman who, like her nickname, could break at any moment, an amusement, a game he enjoyed watching.

A simple ise to buy, her wrists adorned with golden rings hanging from ornate chains, her clothes bloody red like his, though less adorned with gold and more billowing, ,,Amuse me my Papilio, show me your pretty wings," he chuckled as he watched her, as he often did, in the large golden cage he had made.

A cage big enough to be a room of its own, he knew his brother would never touch her Geta had other ways of dealing with his property but he himself wanted to see everything. But just as a butterfly underwent changes, so did she, fragile at first, turning away from his touch, the blood of the arena, his kisses on her body, the touch and care he gave her as a reward for his devotion.

When he opened her cage and freed her palms, delighting in her dance before his made-up face settled on her, yet the blood from her body stained them both, ,,New sides encourage the breaking up of old boredom," he phylosophized in his mind as he adorned her with new clothes, new palms, new accoutrements for her cage.

Until he was no longer entertained, the act of love was so devoted and amusing that for him it was a series of books that gave inspiration, so it was no different behind the curtain. Unlike his brother who recognized his slave as such in public, Caracalla was different, ,,The role of Psyche is my choice" was her response to his command to entertain him and his brother in a retelling of the story The Golden Ass.

A role of a human becoming goddess with butterfly wings another construct which he looked at her naked body with amusement and touch was fascinated as his beautiful butterfly goddess broke around his bloody embrace when he took her.

The play ended in an amusing catastrophe for him because who would dare touch his beautiful butterfly but him, ,,Your god of love, Cupid, is right here!" his loud voice echoed through the room as Geta enjoyed the blood bath his brother was making of the other actor. His butterfly once again reminded her of what her lover, her own god from whom she could not escape, was capable of if he was not entertained well enough.

However, in this bloodbath she saw him for the first time truly laughing amused that blood red made sense for his favorite color her own worth was practically presented to her on the gallows as his eyes settled on her when the knife he still held in his hand lay against her body and Geta was long gone.

,,That's it...that's your amusement...my own amusement" she told him feeling the coldness as he cut away her clothes and she knew that with this god in front of her this amusement was what he was capable of to keep her with him he was her own spectator her own butterfly that would break if he didn't get his cage back.

He was the older brother, the god who was apparently much more of a defiant emotional child than a god with a power that could kill her...yet the thought that she was the only thing that amused him, that he desired, was something that flattered her.

From there it was completely different unsettled for every murder he committed for her, for every play she performed and every appearance in the arean she had was watched by him with amusement while both tunics of the fragile lovers filled with more and more blood.

While they spent most of their time together in the cage, sometimes it was her, sometimes it was him, the white make-up staining them both, their heated bodies pressed against the cold golden steel bars, the blood still staining their bodies on his hand.

In the end, no matter what they did, whether she had the handcuffs on, the gold adorning her body, or whether it was he who killed for her in public, they were one another's amusement in a world that could no longer give them anything because he had everything and she had lost everything.

Behind the curtains of the palace in the cage in the beds it was different they had endless possibilities this wlet more amusing together while two caged butterflies had found each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@sweetpascal here is the first work of my words ;)

[dollwrites]

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲 — 𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐬

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!servant!reader, suggested dub con & sexual slavery, exhibitionism, cuckqueening if you squint, masturbation ( him ), facial, cum worship, master kink, threats against reader, brief fingering ( her ), degradation, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading <3

𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 ∣ holy by zolita

you didn’t often feel envious when the Pillar Men used someone else. in fact, more often than not, your mountainous masters were much too insatiable, and your poor body could only take so much. you’d be grateful if you were gifted time to recuperate, to be fed and given water and bathed by your fellow captors.

but you’d grown accustomed to being the favorite. the one they not only fucked, but the one they doted on, and gave affectionate names. for the sake of the gods, two of them had even been so magnanimous as to kiss your lips ( Wamuu being the most affectionate, followed by Santana who preferred to devour your mouth ).

there was just something about the way Kars was groaning. the way the sweat sparkled on his muscled abdomen when he thrusted forward, diving deep into the girl he held in the air. the way she cried out, red faced, eyes crossed, she had been taken to the brink of sexual madness and then kept there by a god.

and you were jealous.

as much as you loathed it, your body yearned to feel Kars special grade of decimation; you wanted to be in her place, to wrap around his celestial cock and be the cause of all of his boisterous grunting.

you’d been carrying a jug of pulque to altar room, where they all had gathered, but you linger by the doorway, biting on your lip, watching the sordid display with want in your eyes.

Kars’ eyes flicker up to your figure, and he tilts his head. “Jealous, little one?” he teased, experimenting with bouncing the girl up and down harder, until she was choking out cries for mercy. you look to your feet, knowing better than to meet Kars’ gaze lest you be whipped for your audacity, but you peeked at the display. you thought about taking her place; you wouldn’t beg for mercy, you’d moan for him— let your cunt milk him, you’d thank him for all the pain and ecstasy he bestowed upon you. you could feel Kars’ gaze on you, watching your reaction.

Esidisi let out a bellowing bowl of laughter, as he approached you, circling you, pushing you forward into the room. “You’ve been spoiled by cock, have you? Do you think you deserve it more than any other whore here?”

“N-no, master!” you insisted, gripping the jug.

“Yes, you do.” Kars snorts, pounding away. “Tell the truth or Wamuu will beat it out of you”

your heart was pounding when Wamuu stood up, and you recoil back against the giant to your back. “I—I’m envious,” you admitted, sheepish, “I—I only live to serve my masters, and I—“ you look down at your bare feet, wishing you’d not been so transparent, “I am envious when they choose anyone else…”

Santana was staring at you, hungry eyes darting up and down your naked frame, and you shift on your feet, feeling the heat of his gaze. “I would be happy to stuff you full of all the cock your little body can handle, slave. Come over here—“

“Santana.” Kars cut him off, cutting a sharp glance in his direction. “Don’t be gluttonous. I’ve allowed you enough of her, have I not?”

Santana grimaced; you were stealing shots of their countenances. he didn’t want to admit that Kars could snatch you away from his underlings just as easily as he gives you over to them. “Well…” Santana pondered the question, submitting to his superior as he leaned back in his seat, “I can smell her sweet, wet cunt from over here.” he fired back, and you squeeze your thighs together, humiliated, but Esidisi quirks a brow and reaches down to cup your sex, teasing your slit to see just how wet you were. you yelp, obediently spreading your legs for him, closing your eyes tight.

“He’s right, Kars,” Esidisi confirmed with a nod, his thick fingers worming their way into you. interior walls spasmed and clenched around the digits, but he teased by spreading you open with those fingers, testing your elasticity. “It would be a shame to waste such a tight, warm hole. If you’ll not have her, I’ll bend her over right now—“ you were already leaning forward as he pushed against your shoulder blades, whimpering in submission, when Santana jumped to his feet.

“I want her! I claimed her!” he roared, suddenly, the heat of his desire overpowering his respect for his superiors in this moment, and you flinch, trembling with your head down.

when you peeked up from under your browline with one eye, you saw Wamuu grasping Santana’s shoulder and hurling him backwards to slam into the stone wall. “Respect our masters, Santana.” it did more damage to the wall than to the manbeast, who snarled, but was dropping to one knee and dipping his head in tandem with his adoptive brother.

“Forgive me, masters,” he cut his eyes to Kars, peering up at him before adding begrudgingly, “Father.”

Kars seems pleased enough, exhaling as he releases the girl from his grasp and she crumbles to the floor, and is soon forgotten there. even you couldn’t bother to look to her, because Kars was stepping around her, wrapping a powerful fist around his massive cock, shiny and pointing towards his belly button. the sight made you dizzy, and you clenched around Esidisi’s fingers with a soft, hopeful whimper on your lips. “Well, well, causing quite the rift, aren’t you, little one?” he mutters to you, tilting his head to watch your expression. you keep your eyes averted downwards, staring at his nudity instead, and you whine a quiet apology.

Esidisi chortles low and wicked, pumping his fingers into you, “Little witch. She must enjoy watching her masters fight over who will use her as a cocksheath, she’s tightening up already!”

“Give her to me.”

Esidisi nods, grinning from ear to ear, and shoves you off of his fingers towards Kars. your weak knees start to buckle as the force of his push sends you tumbling helplessly on to the hard floor at Kars’ feet with a pathetic oomf. for a moment, you just stay there, your thigh aching where you’d landed, staring at his feet, they were spread in a wide stance, and you knew if you looked up, his mighty cock would be directly above you. “Mm… Master…” you whispered, uncertain if it was acceptable to raise your head or not, even though you so desperately wanted to. “Please… please allow me to serve you…”

“Lie back, slave.” he demanded instead.

you do as instructed, lying back on the floor. it’s gritty and solid, and it hurts to straighten out, but when he takes a powerful step, planting a bare foot on either side of you, you hold your breath. peering up at him, you see that his countenance is heavily obstructed from this angle, the shape and size of his manhood taking up most of your visage of him, and you blush hotter, both hands resting on your chest, one pressing over your heart as if to stop it from pounding.

“Esidisi is right, perhaps we have spoiled you,” he utters, thoughtfully looking you up and down, “your greedy, little cunt just dripping and begging to be filled with cock, isn’t she?” you nod, albeit humiliated because of just how true it is, and shift, rubbing your thighs together to relieve some of the pressure building between them. Kars smirks, pulling a furious stroke from his base to his tip, watching you writhe, and moans out, “Good. Let her weep.” another stroke, and then another, each one picking up the pace, falling into a quick, brutal rhythm, “I want you soaked and clenching around air, wishing it was a thick cock, I want to see you so pathetic and in need of a mind-numbing fucking that you cry for it.”

your eyes were glued to the display above you, but every word of his sent a deep warmth straight to your core, tying your lower belly in knots, and you squirm, haplessly whimpering, wincing to keep the tears at bay.

Kars saw this, and groans again, fucking his fist harder, his brows furrowing, jaw tightening. “That’s it. That’s it. Beg me to fuck your greedy, little pussy, whore. Let me hear that desperation in your voice.”

“Please, master!” you mewled in acquiescence, fanning your lashes against the steamy apples of your cheeks. “Please fuck my greedy pussy! I— I need it, please!” you didn’t sound like the girl you used to be; your voice broke as you howled like an animal in heat in need of breeding, and you couldn’t stay still, rocking your hips into the air in hopes of persuading him to impale you.

the others were watching, eyes all on fire with lust, and Kars squeezed the plump tip of his dick, before stroking hard and slow. “Mmhm, I know, little one, your poor body wants mine so bad. But you don’t deserve it, do you?” he crooned, and placed a foot on your chest, leaning his weight on to you. he’s heavy, but not enough to hurt too much. still, you wince and shake your head obediently, “No, you don’t. But your masters— we’re so good to you, aren’t we? We make that little cunt feel so full, even though you’re unworthy of us?”

nodding, you pant, your lungs trying to inflate under his foot, but you’re still entranced as he fucks himself. “Y—yes master! You’re so good to me!”

Kars bites down on his lip, leaning against your chest until you let out a whiny, little wheeze, and he smirks, snorting pleasure through his flared nostrils, “Tonight you’re getting only what you deserve, slave. I’m going to cum knowing you’re going mad without a cock splitting you open, and I’m going to cover you in it. Open your mouth and accept my generosity like the needy piece of fuck meat you’ve been trained to be.”

you wanted to beg him to be nice; just fuck your brains out, or at the very least, let Santana or Esidisi. your core throbbed with need, walls fluttering in protest of just how empty you felt, but you opened your mouth and allowed your tongue to laze out over your lower lip just as he started to pull his release out with slow, hard strokes and bestial grunting.

you closed your eyes when the warmth rained down on you, splattering on your face and your chest, but you were able to lap at the sticky, raw essence as it lands on your lips or on your tastebuds, eliciting a grateful moan. you wanted more, but Kars was much too strict to give in, so you’d have to make due with what little you were given.

when you cracked your lids to see the god above you, he was softening, the waterfall of his offering running dry, and then it lay, spent and soft, against his thigh. “Watch her,” he said to the others, squatting down over you. you could feel the tip still twitch as it dragged over your skin, and his grin was wide and wicked, “see her bathe in my cum and moan for the opportunity? No more spoiling her cunt unless she earns it.”

[kittydragondraws]

Murder Drones - Trauma and Healing

I was once of the opinion that Murder Drones never really had a theme or message. It was kind of just, watch the funny robots be funny.

But the more I've thought about it the more I've realized, Murder Drones does have a theme. And that theme?

Trauma, how it affects people, and how to heal from it.

In this essay I will go over five of the characters of the show, Uzi, N, V, Doll, and Tessa, and describe their traumas. How it affects their actions, and what they do to heal from them.

Uzi - Lonliness and Acceptance

Uzi grew up with no friends, classmates who either hated or ignored her, an emotionally negligent father, and a dead (*cough* in church *cough*) mother. Truth be told, she had no one. No one to talk to, no one who would listen to her, no one who cared about her.

She was alone and very vulnerable. However, she didn't like that. She didn't want people to see her as vulnerable, she didn't want people to see her as weak. So she developed her edgy, "not like other girls" persona to convince people that she wasn't dying inside. That she took all her pain in stride and was owning it.

However, her coping mechanism of creating her goth girl persona didn't help in the long term as it didn't combat her true problem. She was lonely, lonely and... just wanted someone who cared about her.

And one day, while going out to find the last piece of her railgun she needs to save the world and earn her dad's respect and stuff, she meets N. N, the bloodthirsty drone killer, who was willing to sit down and talk to her.

Sure he was blind and thought she was a fellow Murder Drone, but he didn't immediately push her away as emo. Sure he admittedly was used to much worse treatment from much worse people, and Uzi was probably a saint compared to them (which we'll touch on in his part).

But even afterwards, when he realized she was a Worker, and that he would get in massive trouble with J if he let her go, he willingly spared her life. Saw her father leave her to die, and took pity on her.

Where the two came to develop a connection and eventually, friendship.

Uzi had made her first friend.

N - Self Worth and Free Will

His whole life, N has been used and abused.

While we don't know much about his first life, his life before the Elliots, we can only assume he was still treated as a slave, as much as the rest of the Worker race is.

His life with Tessa and her family, while seemingly happy, he still lived with them as a servant. Tessa may have been a good owner, but she was still an owner. He, J, and V might have been good servants, but they were still servants.

His life as a Disassembly Drone was probably the worst. Not only did he have his entire body forcibly changed against his will, but he now was forced to take innocent lives as he relied on their bodies for sustenance. Not to mention he also had his brain swiss cheesed to hell and back, and didn't even know because well... can't remember things well when those memories are full of holes.

Not to mention, the people he was forced to serve under were awful to him. The most obvious one is J, who was him as a waste of materials and space. She literally wanted N dead, leaving a piece of paper that read "kill yourself" in a dog book that she knew N would read, as a Disassembly Drone telling N that if the company allowed it she would kill him herself, and literally stabbing him with a deadly virus after she saw he had dissented.

However the Solver, the Solver was worse. It killed him several times over, wiped his memories of his past deaths, turned him into a monster, and forced him to kill an unspeakable amount of humans and drones. It could clone him an infinite amount of times. If one clone learned too much or got too rebellious, there were always the next hundred. He was disposable, in episode 7, the solver literally said he had served his purpose. The worst part? There's no way of truly knowing what the Solver did to him or forced him to do. How many clones of N it tortured, killed, and replaced.

But what's even worse than this? He enjoyed it. Well, enjoyed is a strong word. But he saw it as okay. He believed that being treated like trash was normal. He literally thanked J for stepping on his neck. He thanked J for "looking out for him" after getting stabbed with the virus.

When Uzi questioned him about what the "company" would do to him after they were finished with their mission on Copper 9, he didn't know. He was blindly following orders, doing what he was told. With no thought to the consequences. He never considered that JcJenson would view them as a bunch of useless, worthless, disposable robots...

Then he meets Uzi. Sure she's a bit rough around the edges, but she doesn't hurt him or belittle him. She values his opinions and him as a person.

She doesn't see him as a means to an end. She sees him as N.

V - Protection and Attachment

V hid information from and hurt N, yet she did it to protect him. V remembered more than N from the manor. More of the killing, the bloodshed, the forced experimentation, more of the Solver.

She didn't want N to remember. To have the same painful memories she did. So she did her best to keep them hidden from him. Keep him in the dark about the Solver.

How did she do that? Avoid telling him anything she knew, anything that he could use to get closer to the truth. She wanted him to stay in blissful ignorance, something she would love to have.

However, her desire to keep N safe didn't just extend to keeping him safe from the Solver, but keeping him safe from her.

She was afraid of loosing N, and the pain that would bring. So if she developed a deep emotion attatchment to N, like say... reciprocating his crush... it would only hurt if she ever lost him again. And she wasn't ready to deal with that pain.

So she pushed him away. pretended to be mean, pretended to be crass, pretended to not notice, not care, literally pretended to forget his name. No attachment, no pain.

But then, Uzi comes along, and her eye starts glitching to show a Solver symbol. V remembers their orders, kill all the Solver infected drones on the planet. But N, N likes this little drone. he sees her as a friend. He won't let V kill her, becuase he doesn't know what she can do.

It would be so easy for V to go behind N's back and kill her, afterall, N's made friends with rocks before. He'd get over a pathetic Worker, right?

But as time goes on, V starts to understand more about Uzi, about why N likes her. She's smart she's kind, she gives a damn about his opinions. She tells him things... that's more than V ever could've done.

And when V realizes N doesn't need her protection anymore, she's willing to let him go.

Doll - Obsession and Isolation

Doll just wanted to be normal. She just wanted to be free from the Solver's influence and live a normal teenage robot life. But she also wanted revenge, revenge on the drone that took her parents from her, revenge on the drone that set her down this path on the first place, V.

After becoming an orphan, Doll became obsessed with getting her revenge on V, to the point she no longer cared about anyone else. Including who lived and who died. Of course, being Solver infected, she had to drink the oil of the Workers around her, so it's hard to fault her for that.

However, it's hard to tell how many drones she kills out of necessity, and how many she kills for other, less justifiable, reasons. The amount of oil she has in her house? You can't tell me she drinks all of it, at least, not before killing more Workers. The prom girls? That was to lure V into the bunker. Even at prom, She kills two (I think) other Worker Drones, for the crime of getting in her way. Why?

V, everything Doll does, is about V. All of the prom-related deaths she caused, were about V. Doll was obsessed with V, all she cared about was killing V to avenge her parents, not caring about who else she had to hurt to do so. All that mattered, was that V ended up dead.

But after Prom, when she had failed to kill V, and ended up getting killed herself. She learned that Uzi had the Solver as well, finally, someone who could understand her pain, someone she could help. But even after learning she and Uzi are in the same boat, she still chooses to go alone.

At every turn she either leaves Uzi to her own, which usually ends in Uzi getting hurt, or she actively antagonizes her, setting back her own progress in terms of investigating the Solver to further her own goals. Even going as far as to sentence Uzi to death by dinesaw after getting to the elevator.

However, in the end, her relcutance to accept help would be her downfall.

Both Uzi and Doll ended up getting confronted by Tessa, whose goal was to have both dead. However, what separated them in those moments was that they had backup. Or at the very least, one did.

When Tessa had been pinned down by Uzi and was about to be stabbed N was there, knife as hand, ready to do whatever it took to save Uzi. He had had enough of Tessa's shadyness, and now only cared about her.

However Doll, Doll was all alone. When she was attacked by Tessa, she had to try to protect herself. She didn't have anyone she could turn to or rely on for help in that moment. So she ended up getting killed by the very monster she was fighting against.

In her last moments, all she could do was find Uzi. And hope that she'd be able to fight back.

Tessa - Love and Compassion (And Getting Skinned Alive By God)

Tessa's parents hated her. Her mom, Louisa, seemed to view her as an embarrassment and while we don't know much about her relationship with her father, James, it can be assumed he was either generally apathetic to his daughter or found her creepy.

Either way, he didn't care much about her, as he was complicit in Lousia's abuse of her, which included chaining her up to her bedpost like she was a misbehaving dog.

Yet, despite her loveless upbringing, when she was given the opportunity to essentially be a mother to the Worker (Zombie) Drones she rescued from the dump, she chose to be the opposite of what her parents were.

While her parents were cruel and demanding, Tessa loved her drones, flaws and all. She was them almost like her children, little ones she had to protect, keep happy and safe. Heck, she probably cared for them more than she should've, considering that they were robots.

However, there was one drone she had found. One who was different than the others, in a way she could never guess. Cyn, little Cyn. She was different than the other Drones Tessa rescued, she was small, had an odd way of walking, and an odd way of talking. But that was okay to Tessa, she was a Worker Drone deserving of a home.

Tessa could've never guessed that by bringing that Worker into her home. She's not only cause the deaths of her parents and countless other fancy rich people, but also her own and lead to the destruction of the entire human race.

The worst part? She couldn't find peace even in death. With her skin being worn by Cyn and used to masquerade as her, tricking her once beloved drones into assisting the very entity they were trying to defeat.

In Tessa's heartfelt attempt to try and break the cycle of abuse, she ended up causing something worse than she could even imagine.

Trauma is a complicated thing to talk about, and an even more complicated thing to get right. However, I do applaud this show for not only tackling the subject but showing such a wide branch of ways the characters cope with it. From finding others to confide in, to harming others in the pursuit of their own interests. And it pains me the fandom can't recognize this.

So many times have I seen people in this fandom either use a character's trauma as an excuse to absolve them of all blame, or ignore it and try to spin them as the second coming of Satan. When these characters are much more complex and fascinating than people give them credit for.

Anyway, thank you for reading and I hope you have a good day.

[maleyanderecafe]

How to Train a Merciless Villain (Webcomic)

Created by: Peroche, MOoji, MUZO

Genre: Isekai/Romance

Yes, I know, I am an easy target for this one because boy do I love sub yanderes. There's not much out yet, but it does have the dynamic I generally crave which is a lot of the female lead takes care of the yandere, plus some sort of servant master relationship. As of current there are 11 chapters out.

The story starts out with Olivia facing her death as the villain Klein has gone on a rampage, killing all nobles in his path. When she is killed, Olivia wakes up in a carriage seemingly having had this nightmare for quite a while. She's isekaied into this story and is trying to find the main villain Klein. Klein was a slave in the story, bought from place to place, abused and sexually serving women until he finally snaps one day, revealing his immense magical power. After this, he basically starts hunting down and killing nobles. To prevent this from happening, Olivia has been traveling from slave auction to slave auction to buy him and prevent him from living a horrible life so that he won't kill her. She does eventually find him and buys him, bringing him into a nice room. When asking him to undress himself, Klein mistakes it for servicing her, which she shuts down immediately, stating that she only wanted to inspect the wound on his shoulder and that he should rest and live happily. Klein is touched by Olivia's kind words, especially after she buys him a ton of outfits and nice rings, which makes the other servants jealous. This leads to the other servants bullying him, locking him into storage, something that Klein accepts as this is how he's normally treated. During this time, Olivia breaks off her engagement with the crowned prince because of his betrayal during her death, something which seems to greatly irritate him. Olivia then ends up saving Klein and punishing the servant that was bullying him.

The rumor about Olivia buying a slave spreads extremely quickly, and Olivia decides to educate Klein on magic, making him into a patron. He seems to have innate talent for learning it, and Olivia invites Klein to a ball. There, the two of them meet Klein's previous owner, whom Klein seems to be terrified by. Olivia is able to protect him and also establish his status as no longer a slave and Klein starts to yearn more and more for Olivia. Olivia protects Klein once again when her uncle starts to abuse him. After some more studying, Olivia and Klein are invited by a famous painter to a party and although Klein feels a bit uncomfortable, he decides to join for Olivia's sake. He also sees a vision of the future where Olivia dies in his arms. After the nice party, Klein's vision comes true, with someone attacking the carriage they're in. This ends up killing Olivia, which unlocks Klein's magical powers as he tries to protect her. He swears that she will come back to him and brings her home. There he uses his magic to revive Olivia. While in this death state, she sees the pages of the story she's trapped in before finally waking up. We also get more context to Klein as a slave, seeing how he had to do anything to survive and that the reason why he wasn't killed as a child for being a magic useris because he was sold as a slave. Olivia was the only one who was really kind to her, as well as the fact that We also find out that the crowned prince was the one who tried to assassinate her.

As someone who really likes subby yanderes, this one is very nice to read. I am always a sucker for yanderes that are taken care of by their partner, and I love yanderes with love self esteem, so this webcomic was probably made for me. I will say that I'm not too fond of the plot point of Olivia trying to buy Klein for the sake of survival, since that gets dropped pretty much immediately after the first chapter or so. It would have been nice if she actually did help him more of the trauma of... well being a slave, since while she does show a great deal of kindness to him and even defends him amongst the other people who wronged him, she doesn't really address the main issue of slavery too much. I guess it's not like I should expect too much of it, but it can feel a bit strange since in theory, Klein would have basically just developed Stockholm syndrome for Olivia (though having a yandere with Stockholm syndrome is pretty interesting.) From what I understand from the novel, this is the kind of cycle that loops a lot in the story, where Olivia takes care of Klein and Klein ends up protecting her in times of need. This may or may not be to people's tastes as it seems that the entire story loops on this kind of premise. I also think it probably is kind of weird...? That while yes, Klein is finally treated well thanks to Olivia, it's kind of still a weird exploitative position since she's still his master...? I should probably stop complaining though, I don't get any subby yanderes ever, so this is nice for me.

What I do like is that Olivia is the one who is protecting Klein for most of the time, from abusive, showing the kind of caring nature she has but also is able to put her food down on things, such as breaking it off with the crowned prince almost immediately after finding Klein or standing up against her uncle, or even defending him during the ball. There is something nice about a main character who is able to protect their yandere in this way, since it makes it more meaningful when Klein is able to protect her back. It is kind of nice that they do incorporate the rumors that Olivia gets for basically going around to slave auctions and then immediately breaking it off with the prince, since, yeah, that's kind of a weird thing to do and does seem to strongly imply that Olivia is basically just using a slave for sex and romance rather than deal with the prince. I mean she isn't really doing any of that, but it's a more logical conclusion than just she's trying to find the person that is gonna kill her in the future and prevent them from doing that. It is kind of weird that nobody questions her just going around to slave auctions, choosing a white haired slave guy and then immediately upgrading him to her patron, because that is an extremely strange thing to do. I guess she's not concerned with any of the other slaves at all considering just how rich she is, which is kind of concerning. I do like the setup for the crowned prince being the one who sent the assassin to kill Olivia, which possibly could either lead to him being a yandere himself or causing various problems for Klein and Olivia in the future.

I really like Klein as a yandere since he is kind of the personality type I like which is somewhat equivalent of kicked puppy, but he isn't particularly interesting. Klein is definitely a tragic villain since we see that he was used all his life as a slave and when he finally hits his breaking point, he tries to kill those that oppressed him in the first place. He has a very terrible past, being sold when he was very young, watching the person who took care of him die because he wanted to protect him, being sold as a sex slave to multiple owners only to finally be sold to Olivia and live a much happier life. Personally though, I would have wished for Klein to have been at least a bit more skeptical about his suddenly good life, since I would have thought that he would have been at least a bit more concerned that his life went from really bad to really good in a snap instead of suddenly devoting himself to Olivia so easily. He seems to have accepted that it's normal to be abused by others, which is why he looks up to Olivia so fondly for his new life. We don't see too much of his yandere moments, in fact I think so far, it's mostly just displayed in the last couple of the currently available chapters, where he watches Olivia dies in his arms and then proceeds to almost kill the assassin, promising that the two will be together forever before reviving her and crying in his arms. My guess is that Klein will end up being rather overprotective of Olivia considering not only that Olivia is very kind to her (and that he likely has a crush on her) but also that if Olivia does end up dying, he will no longer have the nice life he has currently, and be forced back into being a slave. Considering he just unlocked his immensely strong magic, he probably won't ever go back to being a slave, but he does now have a big target on his back as the king was supposed to have killed all magic users to prevent a prophecy from happening. Now that both Olivia and Klein have targets on their backs, maybe they'll run away together to get them off of their back, but I don't think that's where the story is going. I still like Klein's devotion to Olivia though, the true kind of yandere thing I'm craving for.

Overall, while I think there are a lot of bumps and things, I still like it for what it is. Maybe just don't think too hard like I did or it might ruin your enjoyment a little. Still, I'm always an advocate for more sub yanderes, so if you are looking for them like I am, this one is a good story to read.