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pricetagged · 15 days ago

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The usual from me, I'm afraid. I'm back at my nonsense, typing up wife-hunter John while I take a break from tidying my apartment (: Here's part iii! (there will be more reader/john in part iv )

Masterlist l Previous

Content: More stalking, manipulation, voyeurism & marital sabotage. John's a bad man and I want him viscerally <3

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It tears at him, rends flesh from bone with sharp little teeth. Corrugated. Rusty. It poisons his bloodstream, boils blood to madness and burns to feverish pitch.

It's a trap of his own design, and he just had to poke at it. He set it up, jaw wrenched wide and trigger taut and, god, he had to touch it. Had to feel the bruising pleasure bloom then give to something sharper. Sweeter.

In his more reflective moments he wonders if setting up the cameras was a good idea. He's a possessive old bastard and he's torn; not because of any hand-wringing morals, no. No, but rather that he's left himself licking along the knife's edge, close enough for it to cut if he presses hard. He can touch it. It's in his grasp, but he's not fully confident that he's the only one wielding it.

There are too many variables still.

And it's left him here, testing the pressure of the razor-sharp rim and wanting to dig deeper. (He fisted at himself harder than usual that night, flesh aching and engorged and throbbing as the cold metal of your wedding ring bit at the veins and ridges of his length).

The screen is his most hated ally. Pixels and light; the blue sheen. The static blur that raises the hair on his arms as he caresses your image. It's the sweetest torture, watching you boxed in by the four corners of a machine. Gazing on only the impression of you, shadowy and reflective, pacing the monitor. It's peiskos, but wrong. He has you in his home, but can only see and touch you in artificial impotence. It drives him wild, makes his throat ache and his head hot watching you, but not knowing how you taste.

That's not him, he thinks, having something that he can't fully possess. Even the bottle of 1926 Macallan locked in his cellaret has been cracked open, rolled around the palate and savoured before returned to the shelf. Locked safe behind glass, yes, but within reach.

He has to see you again. The trap is tightening, and isn't it funny that it's caught him too?

(His hand moved faster, pleasure simmering as he watched your wide eyes turn glossy and your voice grow thick. 'I don't know where it went! It must have fallen off in the garden, I swear!' Even being unable to taste it, to lick at your tears and feel you tremble-

-it had him tensing his thighs, body clenching in anger and heat as he listened to your apologies. As he listened to your pathetic, half-hearted moans. The way you gave in so sweetly, so eager to please and make good. Your husband's disgusting, breathy grunting. Weak. Unsatisfying-

-But it had his palm tightening around the tacky, swollen flesh at his tip. Slit leaking as the rage boiled his blood and sent it south in a paroxysm of rapture).

He sees Buck before he sees you. It's a necessary evil. No, that's not quite right. It's inevitable; it's reasonable. He needs to lay the bait, shuffle the leaves over it and let nature take its course.

It's a classic pub. A real boozer, where the floor is always slickly sticky and the walls are a cheery, tobacco-stained yellow. The kind of place that serves only pork scratchings and pints.

Your husband didn't expect to see him there. Fox in the henhouse, only he's too stupid to realise that he's the bird.

"System is running well, mate! Thanks. This round's on me," he claps at John's shoulder and does admirably well at hiding his nerves.

It has him smiling into the pint glass, schadenfreude as your husband subtly stretches his aching palm and paints on a wary smile.

(Foot hovering just above the spring; steel teeth ready to -)

"You here alone?" John sips at his drink, eyes scanning the dingy room until - yes, there in the corner he sees a familiar Union Jack cap. Good lad.

"No, no. My mates have just left. Like to linger, you know, for the company," he sends a wink to some pretty thing nursing a G&T by the window.

"Not enough company at home?" he tries to make it light, hoping that the gravel in his tone could be mistaken for interest. And it is, really, if prey drive could count as mere 'interest'.

Buck scoffs, rolling his eyes in a way that looks a lot like rolling belly-up. 'Tell me I'm a real man, look at me! I've got the pick of the flock'. "You know how it is. Gets boring, fishing in the same hole all the time, eh?"

"I wouldn't know," he hums, eyebrows drawn low in faux-consideration. Meets him dead in the eye, lets the mask drop for a just a second. Let's the words come out flat and dangerous. "I've never had a problem reeling in what I want."

The words linger, settling heavy and awkward in a way that has him licking his teeth. Tension so thick he can chew it, feel the fat and gristle rend under the strength of his jaw. It's heady watching the way your husband flounders, not sure how to react until the pack leader backs up and loosens the canines at his nape. Lets him breathe. It's a joke, really. Go on. Laugh. And he follows suit so easily. It's almost boring, he thinks, with eyes cold and muscles frozen under his fake smile as he watches the man chuckle.

"You've gotta stay, Price, that's a good one. One more drink, c'mon." Funny. He thinks that it's his right to give orders. He thinks that John's staying at his command.

John taps twice at the foamy rim of the glass. Catches his sergeant's eye from across the room. "Sure, why not."

It's time.

It's masterful, really, how well Gaz slips over. Greets Buck like an old friend. Drops hints and in-jokes that have the man chuckling along as his eyes flit about with confusion.

"Can't believe I've run into you, here. I thought I'd seen the last of you when you moved house, what, a year ago?" Kyle slides into the barstool on the left. Boxes him in, piggy in the middle. "Still with that finance company?"

"Yeah, yeah it's been a while," he trails off. Too proud to admit that he doesn't know Gaz. Has never met the man. John can feel the way his eyes keep flicking towards the side of his face. Needy. Histrionic.

"You lads catch up, have fun. I'm away for the night," he sets the empty glass at the bar with a soft thud. Makes a show of introducing himself to Gaz and waving the two of them off.

In the cool air of the smoking area he has a moment of fika. Cars roll by on a distant road. The muffled sound of laughter and murmuring filters through frosted pub windows. The rich, heavy smoke of his cigar swirls around and around until he's closing his eyes in the haze. It's slow, calming, and he takes a moment just to appreciate the hand that he's about to play.

He thumbs over the smudged screen of your husband's phone. Only 2 missed calls and 1 text.

>>Sorry to go on at you, but you said you were finishing work at 5 today. It's nearly 8 now. Can you at least let me know where you are? We were going to start that series tonight and I've been getting worried waiting for you :/

Poor, sweet thing. Polite, too. All love and care wasted on the pathetic, juvenile lump slumped over the bar right now.

(It whets his appetite, seeing how well-trained you are. How you toe the line, defer to the farcical rules set out for you in your relationship. 'Stay at home. Don't blow up my phone.'

Would you come to heel for him? If a weak, useless hand could shape you so well, what could a strong one do?)

<< Sorry, baby. I goty caugtht up at the pub w some friends. HAd a few drInks. Cmome and get me? [LOCATION SHARED]

He flicks the stub of the cigar away as he pockets the phone.

Curtains up; show about to begin.

He settles into his seat, a well-worn booth. Threadbare, stained upholstery and faded coasters. It's shadowy here, tucked away in the corner but offering a perfect line of sight to the door. And right by that very door is Gaz, your husband, and the pretty thing from earlier.

The bell jingles; wind whistles in.

Gaz lets his grip slip, lets your husband slump in the seat until his head is resting against the neck of the woman he was chatting up. Fingers inching up her thighs as she laughs and flirts back.

"What..?" it's too noisy in here to hear you, but he's listened to your voice over and over. He knows just how your pitch is rising. The slight crack on the final consonant.

You stand, face screwed up as you try to make sense of the situation. But two plus two can only ever equal four, and your husband's hands up a skirt can only ever equal-

"Hi, gorgeous. Here to meet someone?" his sergeant grins up at you. Plays the charmer so well. "Got an empty seat with us, if you fancy it."

There's a little bitterness cutting at the furl of your lips. You're holding it in so well but, god, the words must burn, coming out like bile. "What, sure that I'm not interrupting something?"

"No, no. He said he's just having a little fun. Said he wants something warm before he goes home to his bitch wife," Gaz chuckles, leaning towards you like he wants to whisper a secret. "Bit sick of hearing his complaining, if I'm honest. Makes her sound like a right harpy. But you could take my mind off it."

"Not sure about that," he sees the way your chest hitches. Sees the sob that you swallow down as you steel your expression. "I am the 'bitch wife'."

And it's magnificent. Kyle's played his part so well; stuck to the script like he's performing at The Globe. An ad-lib here, an improvisation there. He hands you a napkin, rubs at your shoulder as he looms over the treacherous tableau he fashioned for an audience of two. You, and John. Ache and Hunger; betrayal and mastery. He maneuvers you, keeps you from causing a bigger scene as he hauls your husband by the scruff of his jacket. Choreographs the steps so that John can see every last microcosm on the universe of your face.

It's his set, his design. He's the architect, director, and audience all in one.

(And that foolish, stupid player of yours tugged at the lure. Found himself swinging, tied up in the string).

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Ik reader wasn't really present here, but had to get the ball rolling (: Also I've been stressed and not sleeping so forgive me for this being a bit...

And yes. John stood there and put all the typos in that message on purpose. Unhinged.

#also u can decide whether or not buck was really ranting about his wife to gaz #but i imagined it as an elaboration on gaz's part because he's good at his job and has to make his captain proud (:#báirseach writes #captain john price #dark john price #john price/reader #john price x reader #cod fanfic #cod mw3 #cod mwii #cw stalking #cod x reader

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spacerockfloater · 7 months ago

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Every time Team Black stans talk about Rhaenyra’s bastards and the Dragon Twins as if they’re blessings upon this earth, an angel loses its wings.

Like, okay. They’re children, I’m excusing all of them up to a certain point. But they’re some of the most vicious, aggressive, cowardly, snotty brats we’ve ever seen in this franchise and pretending that they’re not is so foul.

Lucerys is a hypocritical twat that bullied the boy he grew up with because he didn’t have a dragon, but then he’s totally okay hanging out with Rhaena who doesn’t have one either. And then he pulls out a knife and blinds Aemond for no fucking reason, after his gang attacked him first, and faces zero consequences for his actions. He eventually grows up to become an even worse person by literally laughing in his cousin’s face, whom he disabled. And then he tries to boss lord Borros around by telling him that he’s obligated to ally with Rhaenyra even if there isn’t anything in him for it.

Jacaerys is also very two faced for the exact same reasons as Lucerys, with the addition of having anger management issues. Like, remember how he beats the living shit out of his little brother when they’re training at the beach, kicks him to the ground and grabs him by the throat because he is upset their uncles are better warriors than them? That’s the good future king you’re all talking about? He is already obsessed with the idea of becoming king, to the point that his own mother has to remind him that she’s actually alive and well and he would have to wait a good fucking while before his dreams come true. That’s actually so sick on his behalf. Not to mention that he very likely married Sara Snow, betraying his fiancée, in order to gain the Starks’ help, which is very dishonourable. At least Lucerys told Borros he’s betrothed and refused to marry one of his daughters to get his support, I’ll give him that.

Baela is a deranged evil girl who was ready to throw hands on sight, too. And have we forgotten that she becomes a drunkard and whoremonger who spends her money gambling in the rat pits, the places where children fight one another in King’s Landing, once she grows up, or is it wrong only when Aegon II does it?

Rhaena is an aggressive coward who seems more preoccupied with the acquisition of a dragon than her mother’s death. She didn’t have the guts to go and claim Vhagar, but she feels powerful enough to confront Aemond when she has three people backing her up.

Finally, even without taking all of their problematic traits into account, these people are so severely uninteresting and unimpressive. Lucerys does not convince Borros to side with his mother and drops dead like a fly. Joffrey gets shrugged off by Syrax and plummets to his demise. Jacaerys is immediately killed during his embarrassing attempt to fight the Triarchy, not to mention that he was the reason his youngest half siblings were captured and nearly killed because he had the brilliant idea of sending them away. Baela loses the only dragon fight she was ever part of to Aegon II and Sunfyre who were very injured by a previous fight already! And Rhaena is just… there. Doing nothing. Never avenging her husband’s death, eventually marrying a Hightower. Yikes.

Are there much more ill behaved children in ASOIAF? Yeah, for sure, but we actually acknowledge that children like Aegon II and Joffrey Baratheon are pieces of shit. But if we could like, stop glorifying these four mediocre and borderline malicious kids solely because some of you feel the need to ride the dicks of everyone who is part of Rhaenyra’s crew, that would be great. They might be children, but they’re children with shady, putting it mildly, personalities, wielding new-clear weapons of mass destruction who actively participated in a war, especially Jacaerys and Baela. They sure were victims of the world they were raised in, but they were aggressors as well. And like, this is the ASOIAF universe, nearly all of our protagonists are children. We can’t constantly apply modern day morals and coddle them forever because “OMG, they are just babies!”, unless we are ready to apply the same logic on the Targtowers, who were basically the same age as Rhaenyra and Daemon’s children.

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mactiir · 6 months ago

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sword misconceptions pt 1: longsword

Post series: shortsword | rapier | buckler | dagger | spear

so as I'm getting back into fantasy lit as a historical fencer, there are a lot of things I am noticing cropping up in swordfights that are inaccurate or flat out wrong. So i wanted to write a post for my fellow writers putting down a few things I've learned in 2.5 years of swinging the actual weapons around!

Disclaimer: i am not an expert. Additionally, many of the historical terms for weapons were not standardized (there was no "one" longsword/rapier/shortsword etc when we're talking about a weapon that existed for hundreds of years across an entire continent) so what I'm discussing under the cut is specific to the late medieval/early Renaissance European two-handed weapon with a simple hilt/crossguard and with a blade length around 3 feet -- what D&D calls the longsword, or in older editions the bastard sword (although if we want to get picky about it, bastard swords should have shorter handles than longswords -- but I wrote this post as a writing reference so names are beside the point. you can call the swords whatever you want in your story, anyway).

Misconception 1: longswords are heavy.

Older editions of D&D had these weapons at 6 pounds, which is about 2x too heavy. 5e has them at 3 pounds, which is exactly right. Your average longsword is between 2 and 4 pounds, and a well-made one will be balanced such that you barely feel it. Pound for pound, they are heavier than almost all one handed weapons (except some rapiers but we'll talk about that later), but between their balance and the fact you wield them in both hands, their weight is likely not going to be a prohibiting factor for most characters. Everyone who can pick up a wooden baseball bat can pick a longsword up and swing it. A weak or out of shape character will struggle for wielding it for lengths of time, though.

Misconception 2: longswords are slow.

You're 1) thinking of a zweihander and 2)zweihanders aren't slow, either, but we'll get to that later. Longswords, wielded properly in both hands, are lightning fast, with a skilled fencer that's opened their opponent's defense often able to land 2-4 hits before a director even registers the first hit and calls "halt". And there are two components to speed: actual velocity, and distance. Longswords are -- well, long. Even if you can't swing it as fast as a little knife, the fact that it's three feet long means you're closing to target much faster compared with a shorter weapon, because you don't have to do as much footwork to get into, or out of, striking range.

Misconception 3: you can wield a longsword in one or both hands.

I mean, you could. But a one-handed wield robs a longsword of a lot of its dexterity, grace, precision, and yes -- power. You want two hands on this thing. Your dominant hand goes closer to the crossguard and it's what generates your power and edge alignment. Your offhand on or near the pommel is where your dexterity and fine steering is. Switching or removing either of these hands feels weird and you are also way more likely to get disarmed just by trying to parry with one hand.

Misconception 4: swordfights are about dodging.

You have two realistic options when someone is swinging a longsword at you: parry or step out of range. You do not duck. You do not jump. You do not sway, roll, or do backbends. All of these things will 1) rob you of necessary structure to riposte, 2) leave you wide open for a renewed attack or remise, and 3) leave your most important tool for not getting hit -- your SWORD -- too far off target to help you. Yes, all of these things look super cool and may fit depending on your style and setting. But if you're going for realism, YOU PARRY.

Misconception 5: you can be fast or strong but not both.

Ok, this is more a pet peeve about martial arts in general but: you cannot be fast without a certain base amount of muscle. You CANNOT. Small people with no muscle are slow. They have to take huge, looping cuts to compensate for their lack of muscle and leave huge openings while they do it. Small people who do well at the sport are often very quick because they have to train the heck out of footwork to outwork bigger opponents, but that only comes with TRAINING. It's not a "small people are automatically dex builds" thing. And while big muscly guys are often slower, they also 1) have less distance to move to close to target, which makes them "faster" even if they are moving a tad slower and 2) they're also often fast as balls, so you can judge virtually nothing about an opponent based on their body type except for their reach. A good, big longsword fencer will often have really fast handwork because most don't do well in longsword fencing without speed.

Let me know if there are any lingering questions I missed! I may think of more later, but I hope this was helpful for now :)

#writing reference #writing #swordfighting #swords #historical fencing #fantasy writing #writing fiction #creative writing #longsword #hema #historical european martial arts #Martial arts reference #Sword reference

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xayneimagines · 1 year ago

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Mihawk “Fucking and Fighting are a bit different.”

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Mihawk x MC(She/her)

Genre: smut

Content tags: “little girl/good girl/rabbit” pet name. Discussion of a scene that I wanted to include cause idk I like it. Mihawk so nice so he can be mean later. AFAB and pussy eating. Part 1?!

MC was trying to catch her breath as she stared at the swordsman before her. She had challenged him to a duel and, while he declined, she had still persisted. Each slash of her blade was deflected, and that damn bastard Mihawk wasn’t even sweating.

“Do you plan to do this all day? I could cut you down, you know.” On the surface he was unamused with her persistence, but truly he was impressed with how hard she was pushing herself. The sweat glistening off of her skin and the heaving of her chest was quite a sight for the war lord.

“Shut up! I’ll kill you!” At this point MC was no longer thinking. Frustration was approaching a boiling point and as she ran along the cobblestone corridor for another attack she tried to plunge the sword into him.

He was gone. In her eyes, it looked like he had just vanished, but the sudden gruff voice in her ear showed otherwise.

“Your form is sloppy and your speed is lacking. Try a wider stance.”

Before MC could turn around, she felt him kick slightly at one of her legs, spreading them further. With her new found position she was able to swing the sword a little harder, but he easily blocked it with the small knife he carried.

“Your eyes need to be on your target before you point your blade.” Another critique before he pushed her back, causing her to fumble.

She let out a low growl and went for him again.

“Stop fucking with me!”

Mihawk pinned her body between him and the wall, his rough calloused hands grabbing hold of her wrist and pinning them above her. She had barely registered the movement until the sword she was wielding fell from her hand and caused a loud clang to ring out through the stone halls. The sound was, however, drowned out by her heartbeat.

As her eyes peered into his she almost choked on her own breath. His eyes didn’t have their usual cold and calculating glint to them. Instead there was a look that MC had never seen. A dark, lustful gaze that should not have been sending shivers up her spine and causing her to clench her thighs.

“Fighting is a bit different than fucking, little girl.”

MC couldn’t respond. She wanted to have some witty comeback or maybe even just tell him to back off, but all her words seemed to fail. Instead what fell out was-

“Uh…um…uh…”

He raised an eyebrow as she seemed to struggle with her words, taking it as a confirmation that she didn’t mind feeling his body pressed tightly against hers. He shifted his grip on her wrists so that he could hold them tightly with one hand, his other sliding down her arm, her sides, landing on her hip.

“Would you like me to show you?” His own arousal had his voice deepening, the gruff growls attached to each word almost surprising himself. It was rare for him to feel this way, wanting to ravish and spoil. When they had first met he had found her annoying yet cute. And each time she found him afterwards, and picked a fight, annoyance quickly turned into a desire to undo her. He wanted to have her panting and sweating underneath him, begging him to fuck her untill she forgot this damn one sided rivalry.

“N…no.” She had meant that to sound a little more…well…sure?

His lip turned up slightly, a smirk on his face as he glanced over hers slowly before letting his eyes linger further down her body. He could see the goosebumps forming as he mapped her out. His free hand then moved from her sides up to her neck, fingers gripping only enough for her to feel the pressure.

She shivered.

“Are you sure about that? A swordsman must be sure of everything they decide.”

Who knew how long they stood there in silence. All MC could register was how close he was, each touch, each lustful glance. Time no longer mattered.

“I’ll ask again. Would you like me to fuck you?”

“Yes.”

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The only reason he didn’t take her on the cold floor right then and there was because he wanted to make sure their time together would span the entire night. And, while he did have a tremendous amount of self restraint, his selfishness drove him to make sure that any marks left on her would be caused by him, and not a side effect of location.

His arms circled her rather fast after she gave her consent, tossing her onto his shoulder and beginning the walk to his room. One arm held her in place by being draped over her back while the other had his hand nestled against her right thigh, resting right under the curve of her ass. Her squeal at being picked up so quickly rang between his ears like a sweet melody he couldn’t wait to listen to again.

To others he may have looked calm and collected as he trudged through the hallways to find his room, but the growing discomfort in his pants made him thankful for his long strides. He had thought about fucking her on more than one occasion, many nights plagued by images of her panting during a fight and sweat dripping from her brow. The only reason he hadn’t acted ‘till now was a matter of convenience. He doubted she would have agreed during the other fights, them having been in much more open and public places. He had no qualms over being an exhibitionist, but he wouldn’t risk discomfort on her part.

Meanwhile, MC could hardly think as the warlord seemed to glide through the halls. The feeling of his fingers pushing into the meat of her thigh, and resting so dangerously close to her cunt already had her wet. It was almost embarrassing how she had squeaked out that earlier ‘yes’, but at least she was confident in his desire for her, considering his brisk pace.

Hearing the door slam open as they entered his bedroom also provided extra proof.

She gasped as he tossed her onto the edge of the bed, the mattress bouncing her a few times before her feet settled on the floor and she could sit up. Mihawk had turned as soon as he dropped her to shut the door, the sound of a click ensuring her he was locking it.

“Limits?” His voice reverberated in his throat with a gruff tone that had her pressing her thighs together in anticipation for what was to come. She almost hasn’t even registered the questions proper context, prepared to spit back that she could take anything in a fight. Thankfully, and with an embarrassed look, she caught herself.

“Oh…uh…I don’t know…I guess…no like…gross stuff?” She hadn’t done this before. What little experience she had didn’t come with any discussion of limits, nor had the experience even come close to being with a man like him. He was powerful, imposing, and as his hungry eyes locked onto hers she had to catch her breath.

Was that look really for her?

Mihawk chuckled as he walked over to her, unclasping his belt and removing his hat before he had even reached her. His hands sunk down on the mattress beside her legs, face now inches from hers as his eyes seemed to study her.

He couldn’t wait to break her. His mouth was almost dry from the thought, though she wouldn’t know that. Not with the confidence he radiated.

“Gross stuff?” He repeated with a raised eyebrow and a playful smirk, one she usually only saw when he was taunting her in battle. Normally it would have had rage pumping through her, but this time all it did was make her feel shy.

“Yeah like… ya know…” Her eyes drifted away from him as she found the eye contact too intense.

“You’ve never negotiated before, have you?”

“….That obvious?” She said with an embarrassed groan, hoping this wasn’t gonna be the end of this interaction. What if he didn’t care to spend that kind of time on figuring things out with her?

She felt like she could crumble under his gaze until a familiar hand was on her chin, lightly moving her face so that he could peer into her gorgeous eyes once again.

“It’s quite alright. While I don’t go easy on you for our fights. I’ll be sure to take proper care of you, love. I don’t mind taking my time with you.” His voice was low, almost a whisper, and the tone of it sent shivers along her body.

She gulped a little, and nodded.

“I’m afraid I’ll need vocal confirmation. I need you to be able to tell me exactly how I’m making you feel for this to work.”

“I….okay…”

“See if the name sir feels good on your tongue.” He suggested, standing up straight now and peering down at her. She was so beautiful, with her slightly parted lips and nervous glances. Fuck, he couldn’t wait to feel her.

“Yes…sir…” She tested it, trying to not let the embarrassment get to her. It felt…good. Normally authority over her was something that made her skin crawl, but calling him ‘sir’ had her quivering.

“Did that feel good? Whatever happens or is said in this room, you’re in control of. I’ll only push if you request it and, of course, if it’s one of my limits I won’t indulge.”

She stared up at him with those nervous, intoxicating eyes. His breath nearly caught in his throat.

“Okay…it uh…it felt good…” MC stuttered out nervously, her hands down in her lap as she tried to keep them occupied with each other.

“Felt good…what?” He tested it, wanting to clarify that she did actually enjoy calling him sir. His thumb pulled slightly at her lower lip, enticing her to speak.

“It felt good…sir.” The words came out with a shudder as she felt the rough pad of his thumb glide over her lip. She wanted to stick her tongue out and lick at it, but kept herself from doing so. Shame was such an annoying wall to try and tear down.

“Good girl. We’ll need safe words. And if I check in on you, I expect an answer or everything will stop.” To her shock, he now knelt down in front of her, taking one of her feet and placing it on his pants leg. Slowly he undid the shoe, his eyes focusing on her legs in order to give her a break from eye contact.

“Safe words? Like what?”

He rewarded her question with a soft kiss to her clothed knee.

“Well, some people use colors. Red means stop, yellow means slow down, and green means go. It has to be words you wouldn’t normally say in a scene and they need to be easy to remember.” He gave her a brief breakdown of the general idea.

“Scene?”

“A scene is what you call the actual act. It’s in reference to role playing, but it also helps in mentally dividing up sexual play from the rest of life. For instance, during a scene I could be mean if you wished for it, but once the scene ends I would cater to you and take care of you as you come down, just like you would be for me.” He slid the shoe off finally before his hands began to massage at her feet, hoping to help her relax.

“How…how do I help take care of you after?”

Her question had a smile on his face as he looked back up at her. “Different people need different things. I like…being of service. And while I’m well aware of my abilities, it can be nice to hear from time to time.”

She felt the heat all the way to her ears now as she stared down at him. He seemed beautiful, which was odd considering how she had just tried to skewer him. Granted, it wasn’t as though she had been unaware of his beauty this entire time…she just…had been more focused on other things.

“Okay…I…I think I can do that. And umm…how would you take care of me after?” Mc didn’t want to mess this up. She didn’t know how she could fuck it up, but if there was a way to do it she was confident she’d find it and everything would be ruined.

“Well, since it’ll be your first time in this way, I’ll probably annoy you by pestering you into telling me what you want. I could give you a bath after, massage whatever part of you I left sore. And, if you just need to be held, I can oblige that. Since I’m the more experienced one, I’m leaving the reins in your hands and simply guiding you.” He then slowly moved to take her sock off, continuing the massage. As his thumb pressed into the middle of her foot and worked out the tense muscle, she found herself wincing from a slight discomfort.

Damn, she should get a massage more often.

“So…we do the colors then…and if I want you to stop I’ll say red…” She repeated the rules and watched him nod as he now placed her foot down and moved onto the next, taking the same careful time to remove the shoe.

“Correct. And I'll be asking you to tell me your color throughout the scene.” He commented as he began to massage her other foot, avoiding eye contact for her sake.

She watched as his fingers seemed to dig into the tender muscles and found it amusing that hands that brought her so much frustration in the past were currently relaxing her. If she didn’t know him well enough, she’d wonder if this was all a trick.

But Mihawk doesn't do things unless he wants to do them.

“Okay then…should…we go over anything else?” Mc asked, hands now behind her as she leaned back, watching him work away.

“Well, typically we would talk about what we want. Since you don’t seem to know, how about we discuss what you’d like to try.” His eyes cut up at her again, gaze alone stating she would have to be comfortable enough to discuss it if they were to try anything out of normal intimacy.

“I…don’t even know what I’d like to try honestly…”

“What do you think about when you touch yourself at night?”

~~~~~

In her thoughts there was a weird blur between telling him what she wanted and now. She knew they talked about it, her nerves still turning her stomach, but her mind was only focused on the hot open mouthed kisses they were sharing. Clothes still clung tightly to their bodies as he had pushed her gently to the bed, mumbling something about ensuring she would enjoy every moment of this.

For some reason, despite the long conversation they had, she didn’t expect him to kiss her. In her mind she wasn’t sure if he’d see her as worthy of such an affection, but sure enough his warm lips met her own and all of her coherent thoughts left the building.

The weight of him on top of her was all encompassing and her skin seemed to burn and tingle with each movement he made. A knee sat firmly against her clothed crotch while he held himself up by one of his forearms. A ghost of a touch down her side had her shivering and she wondered if it was a sign of weakness in herself, or a strength in him.

Everything about the man was burning and confident. The way his mouth moved against hers as their tongues intertwined was taking her breath away. Even more so when one of his cool hands slid up her shirt slowly, palming gently at her breast. The skilled and calloused fingers massaged her tit gently and she could no longer keep her mouth on his.

She had to pull away with a slight gasp, not sure how he got such a reaction from just touching her like this. Heat surrounded her outside of his cool touch and when she opened her blurry eyes to look at him, more heat rushed through her.

He seemed so…hungry.

His mouth quickly moved to her neck, needing to have his lips against her someway or another. He didn’t know if she knew of her power. That right now he would kneel and worship the ground she walked on for but a taste of her, and that through his feverish open kisses he hoped to consume whatever he could. All the scenes that had been planned and discussed ahead of time would allow for more carnal desires later, though he decided this first round would be…softer. While he wanted to ravish her, he also wanted to ensure she would feel safe and comfortable in their arrangement. A goddess such as this needed to be pulled apart slowly at first. Broken until she had no choice but to understand just what her place was. His equal, above him? He hoped to bring her to the realization that no matter the role they chose he would serve her.

Fuck, she was already whimpering and he hadn’t even done anything. He wondered if he could get her so wet that she would soak through his pants, teasing the idea of it by rubbing his knee gently against her.

Between his thumb and index finger he rolled her nipple gently, only pinching at it enough to add pressure and not cause pain. Her mewls edge him on to continue as her arms wrapped around his head. He was glad she was already getting confident enough to touch him. He smirked against her skin as he gave her a much firmer pinch that caused her body to arch from the bed, a little yelp coming out of her cute mouth.

“Color?” If he was a self conscious man he would feel nervous about the fact he was already growling his words out like an animal. Luckily, the squirming of her pressing down on his leg assured him she loved it.

“We just started!”

Another rough pinch to remind her of the rules had her gasping.

“Green!!! Fuck, green!” She whined, causing him to chuckle. He lifted himself to lock his eyes with hers again.

“Next time you fail to answer, I stop. Understood?” He let his smirk fall before addressing her, not wanting her to think he was joking.

“Y..yes.”

“Yes, what?” A stern voice responded and he could have sworn her nipples hardened against the pad of his thumb. Seemed she really enjoyed the power play.

“Yes, sir. Won’t happen again. Just…please…touch me more…sir.” Mc’s eyes held a shyness that he wanted to replace with bliss.

“I’ll do what I want to you and if it’s something you really desire, you’ll beg better than that.” As if to punctuate his words, he rolled his knee against her again. The friction shot electricity through her, clit feeling the familiar buzz of desire that she thought only a vibrator could achieve.

“Ye…yes sir.”

He groaned at that, eyes relaxing before his head ducked down to now kiss at the middle of her chest, thankful she wasn’t wearing some sort of turtle neck or plain shirt. The taste of her salty skin was something he felt he wouldn’t get enough of.

His hand that was under her shirt removed itself from her breast, a small whimper escaping as she watched his hand now play with the top of the offending cloth. He pulled the neckline down slowly to the side until one of her tits could spring free. Then his mouth quickly moved from the middle of her chest to her tit, the wet heat causing her to arch once again.

Mc couldn’t believe she was this receptive to such actions. Maybe it was just the built up anticipation or the promise of what was to come, but fuck was she starting to drip with desire. His mouth around her nipple while he sucked playfully on her boob, tongue flicking and rolling around the bud as his piercing eyes were glancing up to watch her reactions.

Mihawk made a note to really test how sensitive the buds could be later. For now he was content sucking and licking at it like an animal, his other hand now returning to its original position under her shirt to pinch and grope. He could feel his cock already straining against the front of his pants and pressing against her leg.

He was huge…and all Mc could think of was how he would be buried inside her soon enough.

With an exaggerated pop he let the tit fall from his mouth before sitting up, grabbing the bottom of her shirt and making her sit up just enough to peel it off.

Her back flopped back down against the bed, one arm going to cover her chest while the other hand covered her embarrassed face. He ‘tsked’ before grabbing both wrists, pinning them to the side despite her resistance.

“And if you try to keep me from taking in this work of art that is your body, I’ll tie your hands to your ankles and use your cunt as my cocksleeve.”

Was that a threat? It sounded more like a good time if she was being honest, but she knew the real threat was not actually fucking her and instead just letting himself sit deep inside without moving. That sounded…infuriating.

“S..sorry sir! Yes, sir!” She whimpered as she looked up at him with those same bashful eyes as earlier, lower lip being worked between her teeth.

“Color?”

“Still green.”

Without another word he let go of her wrist to sit up, eyes taking in the full sight of her. He gently ran a hand down her chest, fingers grazing across her nipple before ending at her hips as his eyes drug back to her face.

“Beautiful. I can’t wait to see you broken.”

Mc thought that was amusing since she already felt a little mentally broken, face burning and a small pant on her lips as she looked up at him. Evidently he enjoyed the sight thoroughly, tongue peeking out to lick at his lower lip while a hand adjusted himself in his pants to try and get a little more comfortable.

Her eyes followed his hands and she felt thirsty, wanting to see what was in store for her.

“You’ll have to beg for that. I plan on making you cum in other ways first.”

At his words his head ducked back down to start trailing kisses down her stomach, making sure every inch would be covered while his hands began to undo her pants. She wasn’t sure how he got them off so nimbly without moving, but soon enough cool air was around her legs and his hot mouth was kissing at her thigh.

His eyes fell on her panties and she realized just how much her pussy might have been soaking them. Embarrassed at his gaze she almost tried to close her legs or shift away, but one of his arms snaked under her thigh and tossed it over his shoulder while he settled between her legs.

His hungry eyes were now back on hers.

“Color?”

“Green.” There was no hesitation this time, having learned her lesson from earlier. And, while she was embarrassed, she craved him.

He smirked and rested his cheek against her leg, his facial hair tickling the skin lightly.

“Good girl. Maybe you can be taught…”

She would have responded with a snarky comment if his mouth wasn’t suddenly over her cunt, a long lick through the fabric causing her to yelp and shiver. On instinct her fingers dived into his hair, but the low groan that came from the man showed it didn’t bother him. His yellow eyes peered up at her from between her thighs that rested on his shoulders and she was torn between making eye contact and throwing her head back as his tongue pressed firmly against her clit before wiggling against it.

Maybe it was how drawn out everything seemed to be or the fact she hadn’t gotten any in a while, but each touch from him was setting her on fire and he knew it. Long laps through her panties had her shifting down, wanting to feel more pressure against her cunt then what he was giving. He enjoyed the feeling of her plush thighs starting to shift and squeeze around his head, one hand moving just so he could grip the soft thigh while his eyes closed. Currently all he could taste was the damp fabric, but just the scent alone had his cock throbbing.

Slowly he then used his tongue to hook under the side of her panties, shifting them slightly just so he could get a small taste. The wetness on her lips touched his tongue and he realized just how desperate he was starting to become. It took all of his restraint to not rip the undies off for being in his way.

His other hand snaked its way up to help pull the cloth to the side and he opened his eyes to see the prettiest glistening cunt he ever saw. The way the skin and hair shined with her juices under the faint light of the room felt like an invitation.

“M…Mihawk. Stop staring.” Her voice snapped him from his thoughts. He hadn’t realized just how enraptured he was with her pussy. He smirked, glancing up at her to see a flushed panting face, one hand folded in front of her mouth while the other was still buried in his hair.

MC felt so exposed to him that it was embarrassing. The air around them felt so heavy now that she struggled to breathe, chest heaving up and down.

“Sorry there, little rabbit. I can’t help myself when it comes to works of art.” His words sent shivers up her spine, though she tried to act tough and pout.

“That’s so corny.” She commented, just wanting to feel a little more in control. The deep chuckle that reverberated through his chest showed he took no offense to her words.

“Perhaps. But it’s true. I’ll have to thank you for this meal.” It was odd seeing him with this level of playfulness. During their fights she always assumed his tone was a serious one, but the more she thought back on it she realized just how much he was toying with her and others.

“Well, you’re letting it get cold!” Another quip with a pout had him smirking up at her. He’d let her get away with being a little demanding. It was cute to see her embarrassment trying to shift to confidence and he wanted to encourage her telling him what she wanted.

So, without missing a beat, his head lowered again and he kept his eyes trained on her while his lips wrapped around the hooded clit, gently sucking and giving kitten licks to it.

She gasped and yelped, not expecting to feel that much attention directly on the bundle of nerves. A heel dug into his back while her body arched from the bed.

“Fuck! Too much!” It was almost painful to feel his tongue push past the hood and directly tease her. His facial hair scraped against the rest of her cunt and thighs and it felt just so fucking good.

He backed off from the bundle then, tongue pulling away from inside the hood and moving to circle it before another thick, long swipe ran up her lips. He found the sticky juices to be delicious and couldn’t resist letting his tongue dive into her a few times. He kept his eyes trained on her as the hand gripping his black locks pulled and guided him closer to her cunt. His hand that kept her undies neatly out of the way moved so he could rub his thumb over her clit, circling it much like his tongue had been doing before he decided to eat up more of his meal.

She felt him groan into her cunt, but no longer could she have her eyes open to watch. The pleasure was building and it was building quickly. It felt too much. Overwhelming. Perfect. She couldn’t help the string of curses falling from her lips as his tongue continued to dive into her pussy, curling and searching for that sweet textured spot that would make her see stars.

When he felt part of it, he smirked, his mouth shifting back to her clit while his hand moved to plunge two fingers into her sweet cunt, fingers curling to add pressure to her g-spot so he could milk it for all it was worth. He sucked and licked at the bundle of nerves as her body started to thrash a little, though he noticed in all her panting and “waits” not once did she say red or yellow.

A chord snapped within her and a gush all but drenched him and the bed. Her body was shaking, eyes hazy, and chest heaving for air. Her eyes drifted to see him sitting in between her thighs again, looming over her while a tongue swiped at his lip to gather more of the cum and squirt that now decorated his face.

“Good girl. Ready for more?”

#reader insert #one piece imagine #one piece reader insert #one piece x reader #mihawk smut #mihawk imagine #mihawk x reader #sorry this took so damn long but life got hands

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bucknastysbabe · 1 year ago

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✾ Happy Bday To A Sweet Lil Kit Named Liv ✾

Therefore I present to you:

♕ The Brother F**king Incest Spectacular ♕

For u bb @fairysluna

Rating: Explicit

Tags: TW: incest, non/con|||dub/con, degrading language, bastard hating, DAERON IS AGED UP!!!!Greens won AU, Jace’s sister reader, gang bang, so much Incest, cunnilingus, sloppy seconds, double penetration, oral sex, pnv!sex, erotic crying, humiliation, Daeron is actually scared but likes her so they run off and be happy duh, Aemond and Aegon are Insane, multiple orgasms, rough sex, m/m/m/f, Jace is broken, why is there kinda angst? Idk

A/N: I don’t tend to lean toward non-con but the brother fucking incest spectacular had been brewed so read the warnings!

“Little Lord Strong,” Aemond sneered from the lofty bed, looking down with a haughty look on his sharp features. Jace squirmed and hissed at the one-eyed prick. His dear sister was pinned between Aemond’s lean legs, face red and teary.

Daeron was quiet, a terrified look on his face as he watched the scene.

Aegon, ever the deviant, palmed himself through his breeches, other hand petting Jace’s poor sister’s hair. He was grinning wildly, violet eyes fervent with glee. He giggled as his younger brother prattled on. Aemond cocked his head towards his siblings and said, “Well. You know what they say about bastards. Lustful, devious sort. I bet she’ll open up like a Lyseni pillow girl.”

Jace barked, “Fuck you! All of you are the deviants! Defiling my maiden sister for what?”

Aegon snorted, “She’s a lovely vixen, we won and you didn’t. Therefore we get our war prizes. Wanted to see what your cunt of a mother was so infatuated by a house as shite as the Strongs.” Jace grimaced and squirmed under his bindings, chest aching at the mention of his true father. The one who had taught him to be a man. He didn’t feel much like one.

Aegon yanked back her hair and got a good look at doe brown eyes, watery with tears, lips swollen more-so than usual. She pled, “Please, please, I cannot help being o-of this nature. Have mercy my king, have mercy!” The giddiness of Aegon’s face morphed into anger.

He hissed in her face, spittle flying, “Did your lovely mother and the rogue cunt give my children mercy?”

She wailed in sorrow, apologizing for something she had nothing to do with. Aemond was wielding the Valyrian ceremonial knife, pointing it towards Jacaerys. He sniffed, “Yes, Lord Strong, was there mercy when your dead brother took my eye, slaughtered my kin, set the kingdom aflame for a seat that belonged to us trueborn?”

Jacaerys remained silent, fidgeting in his bonds, trying to find a way out. There was murder and kinslaying on both sides. The bastard thought he was justified for little Luke. Jace was angry and humiliated. Tears fell down his darkened cheeks. Daeron spoke up, a soft lilt to the youngest brother’s tone.

“You won’t get out of those. Learned the best knots down on the docks of Oldtown. Best if you just sat back and let it get on with. Customary,” he nervously looked to the elder blondes, “Customary right?”

Aegon popped up from his spewing of vitriol, laughing as he reached for more Arbor Red, “Yes, darling Daeron, customary to make sure any dragon blood gets more seed. We have to repopulate. Sorry you must get the leftover bitch as wife.”

Aemond shrugged, “She’s pretty. Had a Strong bitch in Harrenhal, witchy sort, but couldn’t trust a wench that played with magicks.” He began to take off his loose blouse, exposing pale scarred skin, lean and toned. Daeron was stockier, like Aegon but if the eldest didn’t overindulge. The king was a juxtaposition of tight burns and soft overfed flesh. Never a warrior, Jace knew that much.

Jace watched in agony as the boys divested their clothing. He sister wept and shook on the mattress, begging Daeron now. The youngest looked guilty, mouthing, “I’m sorry.” Aegon smacked the Prince from behind the head and chided, “This is your whore for tonight. Quit being the pansy.”

Daeron grumbled back, staring with flushed cheeks. Aemond pulled her ass up roughly, spreading tanned thighs, shapely from dragon riding. Jacaerys howled, “You accursed demon!” The one-eye hummed, “I’ve heard worse, Strong. Enjoy the show.”

Aegon was at full mast, eagerly stroking his thick cock, “As the king I get to fuck those pretty lips,” he smirked, “Aemond you can get her cunt. Daeron it’s either her ass or wait your turn. Feel her up a little, I don’t know.” Daeron’s lilac eyes bounced around the scene, pupils blowing at her gorgeous body, full breasts hanging below, obscene lips covered in drool.

“Go on Daeron, she’s drier than the Boneway,” Aemond frowned. Jace could hand the bastard that, he couldn’t bear to watch her be torn to shreds. Daeron’s body came closer to hers, a calloused hand tentatively rubbing her soft skin, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. She relaxed a smidgeon, nervous eyes peeking around. The brunette had pretty lashes.

The daring himself murmured, “I shan’t treat you like this my lady, we’ll go back to Old Town. J-just feel me and the sensations. Please. Please.”

She whimpered quietly at Daeron engaged her in a gentle kiss, his hand finally coming to knead and tweak her pretty tits. “This isn’t amateur hour, back off, acting like Florian and Jonquil.” Aeg snatched her jaw and ordered, “Open, bastard whore.” She did so, shaking as Aegon dropped his spit into her mouth, easing his thick cockhead into the warm opening.

“That’s better, fuck,” Aegon moaned, eyes lolled. Aemond waited patiently, while he grinned at Jace. He mused, “So easy, so pliable. That’s why your mother liked it. Wanted to control everything, the bitch.” Jace gritted back, “Your mother was a stone cold bitch and we all knew it!”

The Velaryon fumed with anger, eyes flickering to where Aegon was moaning with delight, Daeron caressing and kissing on her smooth skin. His cheeks reddened at where his thoughts were going. Merely a Targaryen instinct— inclination for the blood.

Daeron’s insistent kissing and licking had the princess biting off whines around Aegon’s cock. The king laughed, “Ah, there she is, little slut loves it after all.” Aemond played with her other entrance, feeling wetness begin to gather and dribble delightfully. He backed up and motioned towards the youngest.

“Actually, I want her wetter. Use your tongue Daeron.” Aegon giggled with glee at the idea, Jace groaned, and Daeron swallowed heavily.

He shuffled to her slit, pale eyes boggled at her most private part. His thumb slid through the moistened entrance, cock jumping in surprise. Daeron held up his thumb and suckled the essence off, eyelashes fluttering as he moaned.

“She taste s-sweet, hm?,” Aegon panted. He wouldn’t last long. Never did by all rumors and accounts. The slick noises of her mouth and Aegon’s lurid chattering was making Daeron grow impossibly hot under his skin. He grabbed handfuls of her pert ass and licked at her pretty petals, grinding into the bed.

“Seven hells— the mouth on this one!,” he giggled, “Lick at that bud Daeron, raa-right at the top, make her squeal and slick up.” The youngest did so, suckling on the hooded bud above her opening, inhaling her perfect natural scent. She squirmed and shook, crying out around Aegon. Daeron didn’t stop, intoxicated by his beautiful niece’s noises. She arched her back helplessly, whining.

Aegon gasped and pulled at her thick brown locks, shoving his cock deep into her throat— met with no resistance. He threw his short curls back, belly bouncing, lips agape. The king cried out, “Fuuuuck yess!” Jace saw his uncle’s balls draw tight and he emptied down her once pristine throat. He closed his eyes and whimpered, willing away the indecent thoughts. He could hear her coughing in the background.

Aegon, fuck dumb and lazy, pillowed himself back. He halfassedly gestured for Aemond to have her mouth. The lean man smirked as having her from this angle meant he could torture Jacaerys more. Daeron was busy exploring her, sticking fingers in and lapping excitedly.

��Slow down, you’ll blow before you get your cock in her cunny,” Aegon snorted.

Aemond easily got access, the Princess obediently opening her mouth, eyes far away and hazy. Cum was still wetting her chin, mixed with drool. Aemond wiped it away with the nearest cloth, finding a distaste to be so close to Aegon’s glob of spend. He tilted her head up so the taller Targaryen could ease his long cock down her throat.

“Stick your dick in already, she’s wetter than the Greenblood,” Aegon snapped, greedily gulping wine. He shouted, “Isn’t this just wonderful Jace! Maybe we’ll cut your cock off and make you a handmaiden to this lovely girl.” Jace whimpered, utterly broken and confused. He was so hard it hurt, yet everything disgusted him.

Daeron held his cock, lilac eyes focused on her hole, dipping the tip in, before getting shoved further by one of her frantic hands. Aemond laughed, “Mm! She likes you. We’ll all have to take a test filling her cunt up. Make sure the seed takes.”

The youngest brother’s vision grew blurry as he registered the delicious feeling surrounding his cock. It was better than anything he had tried on himself. She was warm, tight, and pulsing around Daeron’s member. He gripped her hips and fucked wildly, groaning and panting her name.

“Should have taken his virgin ass to the brothels in Old Town when we visited.”

“All the more fun, two little virgins, isn’t that right Lord Strong?,” Aemond jabbed in glee. Jace let out an agonized moan, his balls aching and full. His sister’s gorgeous cries and debauched frame was making him feel insane. Aegon’s nonsensical laugh broke through the haze, making Jace more ashamed…more aroused.

Daeron panted and laid kisses up her back, breathlessly praising, “Oh you feel so good, tell me what to do, please?” Aemond, snapping his hips into the Velaryon’s mouth jeered, “Listen to what the wretch had to say, touch her button.”

Aegon slurred, already stroking his cock again, “When she comes, s’like heaven, milking ya’ cock.”

Daeron reached around to settle between them, circling around her swollen nub, feeling her cunt pulse and hearing excited keening. He pinched and pulled harder, the cries turning into little whimpers as she drew tighter and tighter around him. Daeron felt his eyes crossing at the pressure, fucking harder in a last effort.

Aemond pinched a bouncing teat of hers and ordered, “Come now, Strong slut. Serve your superiors.” He pulled out and watched the scene, on his haunches. The brunette was wailing and crying Daeron’s name. “Oh Gods please, don’t stop, f-fa-feels s’good! What’s- oh my- happening?”

Jace never wished he could be freed more than now, eyes glued to her twitching body, plump lips shining in the dull light. His cock was leaking profusely, needing an outlet for his swollen sac. Daeron gasped as she gushed all over his cock, sniveling and sucking in breath. Tears leaked down her gorgeous face.

The youngest Targaryen just sat in a daze, her throbbing pussy hitting him with wave of wave of ecstasy, his cock unloading all he could have carried into her womb. He selfishly hoped his seed would take, so that his wife’s child was truly his. He kissed and rubbed on her until Aegon cast him aside, laughing, “My turn, lover boy.”

Daeron’s eyes flickered to Jace, whining softly with a red face. His cock had soaked the front of his small clothes, huge member swollen and needy. Gods, the depravity. He absently wondered if the girl was supposed to be Jace’s if it weren’t for the twins.

Aegon was a lazy fuck, making the girl get on top of him and ride and ride until her shaky legs gave out. The king smacked her ass roughly, barking, “You can do better than that with all that dragon riding. Lazy whore.” She whimpered and bounced harder, squeezing Aegon’s soft midsection tight. He moaned, “Soooo much better. Good little bitch.”

He filled her up next with a sloppy finish, leaving some on her belly and legs, proposing, “Since Jace is so needy, we should make him clean her up.” Aemond seemed to love that idea, eagerly fucking her into the soft bed, her legs thrown high up his long body.

He bit and sucked a collar of markings around her neck, snarling, “You belong to us now, no black, no-ngh, fucking greens, just the Targaryens.” She whimpered, “Yes, yes, I belong to you, the rightful family.” Aemond smacked her around some more, around the ass and thighs. He pumped with long strokes, powerful and measured.

Daeron was taking notes. Because she was heaving and clawing his shoulders, mewling when he’d plunge into her ruined cunt. Blood had already dried on the bed. Aegon crawled over and pointed her wet eyes to Jace.

“You want brother dearest to clean you up after? Lick your sore cunny up, coddle you? Or Daeron?”

She scrunched her face up, obviously distressed. Jace whined pathetically, “Sister, sister please, let me, let me?” He was humping the air now, utterly broken and debauched. Aemond smacked her cheek none-to-hard and smarted, “Your king asked you a question!”

She wailed out, “Both! Need both! Gods please! Mmmm!” Aemond’s one eye rolled up at her releasing yet again. She still had some in her, coating his long cock with the gorgeous essence. The long haired prince pumped her for the final time full of his cum, slapping her ass another time for good measure. She shivered and cried, Daeron already to the rescue.

Who knew such a powerful fighter had such a weak heart. Aegon laid back like a cat who got the cream, watching Jacaerys sob and shiver. He’d cum. The evidence was sticky and soaking his small clothes. The princess took one look and begged, “C-can he join? Lick me up like you said my liege?”

Aegon shrugged, “Aemond and I will watch for safety. Can’t believe Lord Strong came in his small clothes watching his sister get fucked by the enemies. I thought we were fucked up.”

“Like you’ll do shite you oaf,” Aemond muttered as he slit the ropes binding Jace. The brunette stumbled to his sister, squatting between her soaked cunt. It was still a bit stretched, puffy and oozing copious amounts of ‘dragonseed’. He began to cry in shame as he cleaned her up.

Daeron softly murmured, “I’ll take good care of her, you’ve been good. So good.” Jace blushed and kept licking, eating up his sister’s sighs of pleasure, Daeron’s long fingers in his dark hair. What a fucking mess this was.

Aegon and Aemond merely laughed like devilish imps. Sadists. “Oh she’ll take the seed alright, she better or we do this again,” he tapped his chin, “We can’t taint her bastardized blood further, so just licking cunny for you dear nephew.”

#hotd fanfic #hotd smut #READ TAGS PLS #velaryon reader #jacaerys x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #Daeron targaryen x reader

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fromstormsend · 4 months ago

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Will Gendry be Ned’s Son? (We know how)

⟪“If the day ever comes when Gendry would rather wield a sword than forge one, send him to me. He has the look of a warrior.”⟫ -AGOT Eddard VI

⟪ "Good," he said, smiling. "I will give Lyanna your love, Ned. Take care of my children for me.” The words twisted in Ned's belly like a knife. For a moment he was at a loss. He could not bring himself to lie. Then he remembered the bastards: little Barra at her mother's breast, Mya in the Vale, Gendry at his forge, and all the others. "I shall … guard your children as if they were my own," he said slowly. ⟫ -AGOT Eddard VII

⟪"I bet he's that traitor's bastard," Lommy said one night, in a hushed voice so Gendry would not hear. "The wolf lord, the one they nicked on Baelor's steps."⟫ -ACOK- Arya III

****

There is more hints about Arya marrying with a blacksmith but these are specifically about Gendry will being Ned’s son.

#gendry waters #arya stark #house stark #house baratheon #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #eddard stark #robert baratheon

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siriuslyobsessedwithfiction · 7 months ago

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My favorite quotes from Kaz Brekker in my fic, which I will most likely never publish because I'm too embarrassed. I just wanted to share these beause Kaz's personality is difficult to capture in a fic without making him ooc, so I'm sort of proud that these seem like exact things Kaz would say or do:

"The desperate men are the worst kind of men."

"The Dregs can go screw themselves, he muttered, I'll tell them if and when I feel like it."

"One thing I've learned in this life, he said, sighing. There was a small smile on his face, There are no such things as saints. Everyone's flawed."

"Being tense and being prepared are two different things. But you seem to be both, in all the wrong ways."

(Sarcastically) "After this miraculous sun summoner is discovered, all your problems will surely be solved, and all of Ravka will live in harmony forever."

"If they can't pay me back, I'll take the money from their pockets myself."

"Inej is better off doing more useful tasks then trying to catch a shipment thief. If the thief even exists. His own employees might be stealing from him without him realizing."

"I got paid 240 kruge just for stumbling across those morons, and the night is still young."

"I suppose I have no argument with a midnight waffle run."

"At this point, I could just pretend to be another candidate for the Ravkan throne. A bastard, fathered by the King. I'd have more claim than Nikolai Lantsov."

"See, Nina, sweet? You let them kick mud on your shoes, they'll kick mud in your face next. That's why you shatter their kneecap the first time."

"Lost track of time? What's there to lose track of, Jes? Time only heads one way."

"The steadfast members of the Council of Tides who won't cooperate will be steadfastly replaced."

"The Kerch choose the God of trade and act surprised when he doesn't grant mercy. Benevolence has no place in commerce. Ghezen only hears your prayers when you promise profit."

"You can tell her you got jumped at the docks by a knife-wielding seagull for all I care."

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issa-pheonyx · 1 year ago

Note

Since you did goth yan what if you did a twist on that and did goth reader ?? 😵‍💫

Could be paired with any character but im imagining re2 leon being both really attracted to but also really scared of the reader

𝗜 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗮 𝘆𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗲𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗮 𝗴𝗼𝘁𝗵 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗿 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗜 𝗿𝗲𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗱, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱! 𝗜 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘁 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝘁𝗵!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗽𝘂𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝗟𝗲𝗼𝗻. 𝗦𝗼, 𝗹𝗲𝘁'𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗴𝗶𝗻~👀🖤

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

-Okay, to start off with people (friends and his coworkers at the department) would find it both strange, yet curious based on witnessing you guys standing together. The rookie with a goth? Now way-oh you were not joking. How the hell was he able to even talk to someone so highly different?

-Now crushing on you may have been the way you were attractively intimidating from the looks seeing how he never met someone like yourself in his life. Of course, there are trolls who have talk shit on the stereotypes which you were not phased by it (as you should💅🏽) , however the rookie cop was not having it, defending you like a guarded puppy to you

-He sees you that you are really talented and protective of your creativity amongst the arts, having strengths of independence and respect for all aesthetics even for being called a 'weirdo' for being goth, etc. He would praise and worship you for having such a unique style and do not let anyone get to you, because those who are basic or just have no taste would usually copy off or project themselves onto you, because you happily and lovingly express yourself

-As more to discuss on the being scared of you part, yes, not going to lie he was shitting bricks when he made the first move. Lets say a scenario of you being involved in a scene saving someone's life who had a knife, but you were not afraid and had the courage to fight off the bastard and wield a pocket knife like it's nothing. He thought you were scary cause how did you get him pinned and second of all what the fuck was the knife doing against his neck you could just threw it aside until the cops came

-So, yes he is scared of you cause of the 'the more you fuck around, the more you're going to find out' energy you hold and having the biggest dick energy cause goddamn you is the shit and you can pull your own weight. Sure, he had stalked caught you intruding an abandoned cathedral, because it looked so pretty outside you just want to see inside so badly. This was a good excuse for him to talk to you more and more as you both walked around, you're taking pictures and videos here and there, and he sticks around you like a damn puppy smiling as you tell him more about your style cause he is genuinely curious

-You and him developed a genuine friendship since you were usually just known as the goth instead of you as a person with other individuals/groups. Leon really wanted to get to know you more and more, but the issue is there are people who will find ways to pick on you both. Leon as the rookie cop and you as the goth crush. People would laugh at the thought of him taking a liking of you cause again you guys are opposites

-Thankfully, you would shut them down with respect, maturity, and boldness in which they immediately have their tail between their legs. Leon would try to be light and taken jokingly on their statements (even when they're genuinely rude) which pisses you off, because hey Leon that wasn't a joke they are actually being assholes. So, I guess right then and there the platonic bond turned to a romantic one-developing feelings for you, because you not only express your love and creativity for your gothic aesthetic, but more as a human being who respects those who deserve it and calls out those who are undeserving of it

-You were also developing feelings for Leon too. In denial at first thinking it could be a dumb crush and you will get over with it. But, no it was real, because he sticks with you again like a damn pup you know the routine and defends you whenever someone disrespects or criticize you. He knows you. Everything about you and knows whatever bullshit they're saying is not true. You always had defend other people who you gave so much respect only to be betrayed, because you will be always the weirdo to them. Not as (Y/N)....

𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴! 𝗜 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝘁. 𝗠𝘆 𝘂𝗽𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴. 𝗦𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹~🖤🫣

205 notes · View notes

agnerd-bot · 7 months ago

Text

"King" Mordred Alter, False Ascendant to the Throne(Avenger)

Ascension Stages:

First Stage: Mordred Alter is noticeably older than their Proper Human History or Dream World counterparts, wearing armor similar to that of the Goddess Rhongomyniad, albeit with Mordred’s own helmet in place of the Lion Kings. Perhaps most noticeable is the fact that this Mordred wields both Excalibur and Clarent simultaneously.

Second Stage: Mordred’s armor now gains a deep red cape that goes down to their knees. Excalibur and Clarent now seem to have dulled, with small hairline fractures noticeable along their blades. The helmet has been removed, revealing a weary smile on their face and a gold and silver crown upon their brow.

Final Stage: Excalibur and Clarent are swapped out for Carnwennan, the white-hilted knife gleaming with magical energy. Mordred’s cape has been torn to shreds as a sinister aura surrounds them. Blood stains their shining armor as they bear a maddened smile on their face.

Theme:

Fatal Battle Theme: The Death Of God's Will (Full Mix + Voice Lines)

Traits:

Class: Avenger Alternate Class: Berserker, Caster, Saber, Assassin True Name: Mordred Pendragon(Alter)/King Mordred Source: Arturian Legend Region: Wales Alignment: Chaotic Evil Attribute: Earth

Known as: The King Who Was Never Meant to Be, Usurper King of Knights, Vile King of Camelot, The Bastard Who Defied Fate

Voice Actress: Sawashiro Miyuki

Deck: QAABB

Parameters: Strength: A Endurance: B+ Agility: B+ Mana: A++ Luck: E NP: A-

Passive Skills:

Magic Resistance A++:

Mordred’s already impressively high Magic Resistance has been bolstered even further due to the magecraft they have learned from Morgan Le Fay, allowing them to deconstruct enemy spells with ease. For the magic that they can’t handle on their own, Mordred has the Holy Dagger Carnwennan to nullify any magical harm taken.

(FGO Effect:) -Increases own debuff resistance by 23%.

Avenger B:

The anger and bitterness of Camelot’s people drives Mordred further. Each angered sneer, each hateful glare, each venomous word that drops from their people’s lips only serve to push Mordred further and further in an attempt to prove them wrong. Mordred Alter will do whatever it takes to prove they have surpassed their father and have become an even better king.

They will bring Camelot into a new golden age, even if it means dragging their citizens into it, kicking and screaming.

(FGO Effect:) -Increases own NP generation rate when taking attack by 18%. -500% Chance to reduce party's debuff resistance by 8% except self. (Including sub members) [Demerit]

Oblivion Correction C+:

No matter where Mordred runs to, or where they try to escape, it is inevitable that there will be a King Arthur there to overshadow them.

(FGO Effect:) -Increases own critical damage by 7%.

Self-Replenishment(Magic) A+:

As this incarnation of Mordred was taught by Morgan le Fay in the arts of magecraft alongside their teachings as a knight, they have a well-versed knowledge of their own mana efficiency and how to best use it in combat, able to constantly refresh their pools of energy in a fight to keep fighting for long periods of time.

Because of these teachings, coupled with the blessings of the Holy Sword, Mordred has been able to live far past the expected lifespan Morgan had given them, allowing them to further their knowledge in both the Holy Weapons and their own Magecraft.

(FGO Effect:) -Charges own NP gauge by 4% every turn.

Active Skills:

Defiant of the Winds of Fate A-:

It is said that the fall of Camelot was destiny. That at the Battle of Camlann, the death of King Arthur would lead to the collapse of the kingdom itself, leaving nothing but pain, misery, and loss in its wake. However, Mordred managed to defy that destiny. After slaying King Arthur with her own Excalibur, and defeating the Witch-Queen Morgan le Fay when she attempted to take the throne for herself, Mordred ushered in an era of peace and prosperity for Camelot, defying the prophecies set for them long ago.

Where fate says there is destruction, Mordred will bring prosperity. Where destiny says there is death, Mordred will bring healing. Where the future says there must be sorrow, Mordred will bring joy. So sayeth the King of Camelot.

(FGO Effect:) -Increases own Buster performance for three times, three turns. -Apply Guts to self for two times, five turns. -Reduces all enemies' defense for three turns.

Revolutionary Charisma B-:

Charming, handsome, and witty. These were the traits that made Mordred able to weave their lies and tricks in the kingdom of Camelot. With but a few words, they convinced several of Arthur's finest champions that their king was unfit. With some well-placed manipulations, the Round Table came to believe that Arthur's Camelot was nothing more than a sham. Even souls like Guinevere came to ally with Mordred, believing that rule under Arthur was one of simple war and bloodshed, and only through Mordred's leadership could Camelot come to peace.

However, after the Battle of Camlann, many had lost their faith in Mordred, the horrors of the war leading many to believe the new king could only bring misery and pain. Many of Mordred's people turned against them, believing the new king to be nothing but an opportunistic usurper. As such, this skill is not a rallying cry to the side of a king, but an insidious killer to bring an entire nation to its knees. It is a skill suited to wreaking chaos and havoc, turning brother against brother, friend against friend, kingdom against kingdom, leaving Mordred standing at the end, alone.

(FGO Effect:) -Increase party's attack for three turns. -Increase party's damage for three turns. -Inflicts Confusion status for 3 turns to all enemies --(30% Chance to activate the debuff below every turn. When activated, 500% Chance to seal their skills for 1 turn.) -Inflicts Confusion status for 3 turns to all allies[Demerit]. --(30% Chance to activate the debuff below every turn. When activated, 500% Chance to seal their skills for 1 turn.)

Destroyer of the World’s End A:

The power of a child of both the King of Knights and the Witch-Queen of Albion. Rather than specializing in knightly chivalry like their father Artoria, or magecraft like their mother Morgan, Mordred has found a way to properly combine both, allowing them to even match the power of the Holy Spear Rhongomyniad in combat, which is what allowed them to defeat their father Arthur at Camlann. As surviving the war that was meant to kill them allowed Mordred to live longer than they had in Proper Human History, they've managed to hone this power to the point where they can match both Morgan and Artoria in their respective specialties.

This is the power of Mordred, the King Who Was Never Meant to Be. A king driven to madness by the cruelty of the world and the wickedness of those who tried to manipulate them for their own selfish desires. No more will Mordred be another person's puppet. No more will Mordred stand in the shadows of the ones who came before. The Usurper King will stand, facing down even the end of the world if they must.

(FGO Effect:) -Charges own NP Gauge. -Increases own critical star absorption for 3 turns. -Increases own critical damage for 3 turns. --Grants self On-Attack-Activate buff for 3 turns. --Gains critical stars when attacking with Buster Cards. -Increases damage against Savior to Humanity enemies.

Noble Phantasms:

Noble Phantasm: Excalibur & Clarent - Twin Swords of the Rightful King

Rank: A++ Maximum Targets: 1000 Range: 1-99m Classification: Anti-Fortress

In one hand, the silver blade used to knight kings and denote peace.

In the other, the golden blade forged by the gods to light the way.

While both swords were once used as symbols of heroism and goodness, now they are wielded by a cruel and petty tyrant, stolen from their rightful owners. Clarent, stolen from its rightful resting place. Excalibur, used to slay the very king who was chosen to wield it. The Pretender King of Knights, Mordred, wields both of these blades, having forced them into servitude long ago in order to exact their own mad vision of domination. These blades that once served as emblems of justice and chivalry, now turned to oppressors, slaying members of the Knights of the Round with complete impunity.

Under normal circumstances, the use of these swords by one not deemed worthy would result in these weapons dropping a rank in power. However, with Mordred’s magical skill, they managed to find a way to retain the power expected of these blades, even with a false claim to the throne. Channeling their abilities through these sacred armaments, Mordred Alter uses both swordplay and magecraft in conjunction with one another. Every strike is akin to a clap of thunder. Every slash is alight with the flash of lightning. With these weapons in hand, the King of Greed is akin to a living force of nature, carving apart any enemy in front of them with horrifying bloodlust.

But despite the raw magical energy that comes from these sacred weapons, one can sometimes see them tremble in Mordred’s grip. As if they are begging, screaming out to be released from their contract, and be returned to their rightful home.

Noble Phantasm: Carnwennan - Shadowed Blade of the Witch-Killer

Rank: A- Maximum Targets: 1 Range: 1-49m Classification: Anti-Unit

One of the three holy weapons said to have been given to King Arthur by God, alongside Caledfwlch and Rhongomiant, stolen from King Arthur’s armory After Mordred killed her. While lacking in obvious destructive power in comparison to the Holy Sword and the Holy Spear, the Holy Dagger makes up for it with its versatility. In the original Welsh tellings of King Arthur, it is said that Carnwennan’s wielder is able to cloak themselves in shadow, rendering them invisible to the world around them. The user can also summon pillars of shadow to attack enemies, as a counter to Rhongomyniad and Excalibur’s pillars of light. The blade can also extend, moving large distances and even curving around corners in order to attack an enemy at a distance.

The blade has a second property, made famous by Arthur’s use of it to slay Orddu the Witch. The White Hilted Dagger has the ability to nullify other magical abilities when wielded, able to dispel curses with a single touch, puncture magical shields as if they were paper, and grievously wound any Phantasmal Creature if it strikes true. In addition, whenever Carnwennan destroys something made of Magecraft or with innate magical ties, it absorbs this power into itself, allowing Carnwennan to grow stronger over time, eventually matching its sister weapons if it reaches a certain point.

While Mordred prefers to wield Clarent and Excalibur to prove their legitimacy as king, Carnwennan is the weapon they are most proficient in, given their talents in Magecraft and preference for underhanded combat.

Noble Phantasm: La Mort Artu - Thus the Usurper Claims Victory

Rank: A- Maximum Targets: 1 Range: 1m

Classification: Anti-Arthur

A Noble Phantasm that is emblematic of the action that defined the knight Mordred: the death of King Arthur. By combining the holy power of Arthur's armaments with the transcendent magecraft of Morgan's teachings, and reinforcing both with Mordred's own unshakeable willpower and unquenchable hatred, King Mordred gains the power of a fearsome thunderstorm capable of wiping out all of Britain in one fell swoop. This immense power is then concentrated within Mordred's blade, turning it into a weapon capable of matching and potentially surpassing the Tower at the End of the World, Rhongomyniad, at its full strength. Mordred even claims that if they were able to land a killing blow on the King of Storms, it would be enough to erase her from the Throne of Heroes entirely.

The main drawback of this technique is that it consumes incredible amounts of prana to use, meaning that Mordred is left on a very short timer when it is active, potentially risking death in the process. Furthermore, because of the single-minded obsession required to use this technique, each incarnation of Mordred Alter can only use it against an opponent that they have come to well and truly hate, to the point that their destruction is all that will satisfy them, usually in this case some form of Artoria, given their status as an Avenger.

(FGO Effect:) -Applies Target Focus to a single enemy for three turns(activates first).-Increases own damage against Round Table Knight or 'Saberface' enemies for one turn(activates first). -Applies Ignore Invincible to self for one turn(activates first). -Remove Anti-Enforcement Defense from all enemies(activates first). -Deals damage to one enemy that ignores Defense buffs. -Charges own NP gauge(effects increase with Overcharge). -Inflicts Curse for five turns to all enemies.

Voice Lines:

Summoned: Greetings. I am King Mordred, Avenger Class Servant and child of Artoria Pendragon and Morgan le Fay. I stand as the King of Camelot, and the one who will bring it to prosperity. Truly, it is an honor to make your acquaintance… Master.

Level Up 1: Not enough. Damnit, this still isn’t enough to surpass my father…

Level Up 2: My powers grow stronger. Hahahahaha! If only Mother could see me now!

1st Ascension: Ahhhhh, that’s better. It’s nice to finally get out of that helmet for a while. Allow me to reintroduce myself. I am Mordred, King of Camelot. If you need me to help you save mankind, then I shall lend Clarent and Excalibur to aid you.

2nd Ascension: Nothing changed this time around, huh? That’s fine for now. In due time, I’ll be able to show you my full potential as king.

3rd Ascension: Wha…?! Why am I wielding Carnwennan now?! Damnit, I should be armed with Excalibur and Clarent! How else am I supposed to prove myself as king?! …no, no, it’s not your fault. I suppose that I am better suited to using the Holy Dagger instead of the Holy Sword. Regardless, this is a major pain in my ass… But I suppose I can make do.

4th Ascension: My father never really cared about me… My mother saw me as nothing more than a tool… The people of Camelot all hated and reviled me. And yet? Here I stand as king, in defiance of all expectations of me. Heh… Hehehehehe… Hahahahahahaha! If only they could see me now! All their heads bowed before me!

Fight Start 1: Lay down your arms and I shall show you mercy. Otherwise, I will end your life here and now.

Fight Start 2: As king, it’s only right that I take the stand at the front lines.

Fight Start 3: Hahahahaha! Finally! It was getting boring waiting for some action!

Fight Start 4 (Fatal Battle): You… You! You took everything from me! My kingdom! My love! My right to rule! If I can’t reign over Camelot… If I cannot be accepted by this country… Then I can at least watch you die by my hand!

Skill 1: Destiny has no hold on me!

Skill 2: Oppressors cannot control me!

Skill 3: Not even Mother or Father can stop me!

Command Card Select 1: I am… most unsatisfied.

Command Card Select 2: Fine, I guess I’ll step in to help.

Command Card Select 3: I’ll carve you to pieces!

Noble Phantasm Select 1: Rain down, Lightning! Roar out, Thunder!

Noble Phantasm Select 2: I will carve you apart… And leave nothing but blood and mist behind!

Noble Phantasm Select 3(Against any ‘Artoria’ enemy): I slew the King of Knights once. I’ll simply do it again! Now prepare to die, Father!

Attack 1: Drop dead!

Attack 2: Shut your damn mouth!

Attack 3: It’s useless! Just give up!

Attack 4: I’ll crush you!

Attack 5: Carve them to pieces, Carnwennan!

Extra Attack 1: Let’s see what breaks first… Your spirit! Or your body!

Extra Attack 2: Can you handle this?! No escape!

Extra Attack 3: Be it sword or sorcery… I reign as the king of all!

Noble Phantasm 1:

In my right hand, I bear the sword of kings, Clarent!

In my left hand, I bear the sword of gods, Excalibur!

As the true heir of Camelot, these two sacred weapons bend to my will!

And so too shall all kneel before me or die at my hand!

LA MORT ARTU!

Noble Phantasm 2:

My father was the King of Knights.

My mother was the Witch-Queen.

And I… have surpassed them both.

Now, I stand as the true King of Camelot.

La Mort Artu.

Noble Phantasm 3(Against any ‘Artoria’ Enemy):

No more am I going to be left behind in your shadow.

No more am I going to pick up the pieces of your legacy.

It doesn't matter if Camelot burns to the ground…

It doesn't matter if all of humanity turns against me…

When this is over and done with…

I promise you, 'Father', the world will forget you were even mourned.

The Legend of King Arthur… DIES NOW!

Damage from Noble Phantasm: BAAAAASTAAAAAAAAARD!!!

Regular Damage: Khhhh! You little-!

Defeated 1: Bullshit… THIS IS BULLSHIT!

Defeated 2: You…! This isn’t over, damnit!

Defeated 3 (Fatal Battle): Why…? Why?! What did I do to deserve this…? Do you hate me that much, Father?!

Victory 1: And that is how a true king gets it done.

Victory 2: Is that all? Barely even worth remembering…

Bond Level 1: Thank you for taking the time to be with me. I understand that you are busy as the Last Master of Humanity. I know I am a king, but still, it's humbling to know that someone like yourself is willing to spend time with someone like me. ...it's nice, having someone to talk to again.

Bond Level 2: Excalibur and Clarent... The blades that belong to the king. After the death of Arthur, I took them for myself as a sign of my right to rule over Camelot. Unfortunately, the swords of kingship don't seem to agree with me on that front. Never in my life have I seen either of these swords scratched, let alone cracked... Am I truly that unworthy of kingship...?

Bond Level 3 (Clear "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"): *sigh* So the truth is out, huh? Shit, this is a pain in the ass... I was hoping that I would be able to keep up this charade for a little while longer. Then again, it was so annoying having to play 'the good king' for so long. So, 'Master'. The Knight of Treachery is here, at your service. Or rather, you are at my service.

Bond Level 4 (Clear "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"): You… Why do you look at me with those eyes? Like I am some kind of abandoned child? Like I’m some sort of stray that needs pity?! I am a King! I am the villain who slew King Arthur! I am the monster that reigns over Camelot! And yet you still think of me ...no matter. You'll turn out like all the rest. One way or another, I will make you kneel.

Bond Level 5 (Clear "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"): …you really do see the good in all things, don’t you, Master? I suppose that is undoubtedly your most admirable trait. Be that as it may… Never look at me with those pitying eyes again. I have my pride, both as a knight and as a king, and if you dare insult that pride, I will not hesitate to end you. But if you will treat me with the respect I am owed? Perhaps there is a place at my side for you.

Dialogue 1: It’s nice, isn’t it? Having a bit of time to relax and have peace? Most of my life I just knew combat, so being able to sit around and do nothing is nice, isn’t it? …it’s too quiet around here, I’m bored.

Dialogue 2: I am at your service, Master. If there is an enemy before me, I will crush it at your command.

Dialogue 3: I know that contractually, you are the Master, and I am the Servant, but at the same time, I am still your king. Don’t get any bright ideas, got it?

Dialogue 4 (Clear "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"): So many Servants in Chaldea, so many pawns to play with… All ready and willing to be sacrificed upon your orders, ‘Master’. … Hah! That look on your face was pretty frightening. Don’t worry, I just wanted to see how you would react.

Dialogue 5 (If you have any Artoria Pendragon(Saber)): So the Once and Future King has come to Chaldea. How lovely… Hm? Oh, don’t worry, Master. I suppose I can play nice with my Father for now, if you need me to. That being said… I will crush her again when the time comes. Then, everyone will understand just who the true King of Camelot is.

Dialogue 6 (If you have Artoria Pendragon(Lancer Alter) after Clearing "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"): The King of Storms… That phantom I summoned back then to run rampant as a Berserker. …did she really mean those words she said to me back then? No, it doesn’t matter. She is King Arthur, and I am Mordred. In the end, we are to be enemies.

Dialogue 7 (If you have Mysterious Heroine X or Mysterious Heroine XX): Another one of the Fathers wandering around Chaldea, I see. Is that ballcap of yours meant to be a disguise or something? …what? “I am no Artoria, I am the spacefaring defeater of Sabers and hero of the Servantverse?” GET REAL! If you’re gonna hide your identity from me like a coward, at least give me a reasonable excuse instead of that crap!

Dialogue 8 (If you have any other ‘Artoria’ Servant): …Master. I’ve noticed we have a bit of a… multiplicity issue. I seem to be seeing several versions of my Father wandering around Chaldea. One is dressed as a showgirl, another seems to be my father as a child, and yet another seems to be a man. Not to mention the multiple evil Fathers walking around. …we have how many here?! I see. Excuse me, but I have to go step out a bit and scream my head off. I’ll return shortly. *click* AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Dialogue 9 (If you have any ‘Saberface’ Servant): Hello, ‘Father’. How about we settle this once and for… …huh? Wait, you’re not- Then who are- DAAAAAAGH! DAMNIT, I’M IN THE WRONG ROOM! YOU! You didn’t see anything! *SLAM!*

Dialogue 10 (If you have any ‘Round Table’ Servants): So this is the Knights of the Round Table from Chaldea. Still as loud and obnoxious as always, no matter what universe, isn’t it? …I admit, part of me wishes I hadn’t divided the Round Table into two during my rebellion. Only a handful of us survived, and even then, none remained in Camelot. It was kind of lonely running the kingdom by myself, y’know?

Dialogue 11 (If you have any ‘Enemy of the Round Table’ Servants): Ah, I’ve heard of you! Yes, a great and powerful enemy of Camelot, one that brought even the great King Arthur to their knees! Of course, I was the one who managed to kill her for good… Hm? Oh, nothing, just talking to myself. Say… how about you and I get to talk a bit? I’ll treat you to some good booze and we can talk shop about reducing Camelot to rubble, hm?

Dialogue 12 (If you have Lancelot(Saber)): So this is the Lancelot of Proper Human History, is it? Hah… I guess, no matter the timeline, you’re still the same, huh? An idiot of a man, too chivalrous for his own good, even if it means his own misery. Hey, care for a spar? I wanna see if you fight as good as the Lancelot of my world.

Dialogue 13 (If you have Lancelot(Berserker)): Lancelot…?! …to think that someone like you would end up like this. …I’m sorry, old man. I should’ve been with you.

Dialogue 14 (If you have Mordred): I gained everything we ever wanted in life… the throne… victory over Father and Mother… even the blade Excalibur is mine! So why… Why do you continue to give me that expression?! Why do you look so much happier than I am?! HUH?! ANSWER ME!

Dialogue 15 (If you have Mordred(Rider)): …a surfboard? Really?! And are you really using Prydwen for your stupid summer games?! NO I DON’T WANT TO STEAL IT FOR MYSELF! …I have my own anyway.

Dialogue 16 (If you have Baobhan Sith): The adopted child of the Lostbelt Morgan le Fay. A spoiled brat of a girl who trails after the Witch-Queen out of some unreconciled loyalty to her. I see, so this is my Lostbelt counterpart, huh? …huh? This brat is supposed to be Tristan?!

Dialogue 17 (If you have Lostbelt Morgan): Oh. It’s you. The ‘good’ version of Morgan le Fay. As witchy as ever. Still beautiful, which of course you would be, with all your magic and sorcery. … You may have the rest of Chaldea fooled, ‘Mother’, but I don’t buy your act for one second. The very instant you dip a toe out of line, I will hunt you down and make you wish I killed you.

Dialogue 18 (If you have Merlin or Lady Avalon): Poor, poor Merlin… forever the observer. The watcher. Forced to gaze upon the mountains upon mountains of failures you’ve created from the confines of Avalon. Tell me, did you know of the truth of my birth? Did you know my fate was to slay the King of Knights? Did you know that was why my father nearly attempted a genocide? …of course you did.

Dialogue 19 (If you have Florence Nightingale): That nurse… she looks at me strangely… I feel simultaneously afraid and comforted by her presence. Ghh! She’s looking this way! Quick, hide me!

Likes: Have you ever gone sailing, Master? I’ve only done it a few times when I was young, but I always feel like the water’s surface is soothing. As if even in the harshest storms, I would be fine. Hmph. Perhaps it is the one blessing my Mother ever gave me… Or perhaps it’s just dumb luck.

Dislikes: Those other mes… those damn idiots. With their smug faces… their arrogant smiles… Everything about their existence is a pestilence that doesn’t deserve to exist!

About the Holy Grail: The Holy Grail… So many of the Round Table sought it out in some form or another. Even my Father sought to attain it for herself, only to fail. In that case, I think I’d like to take it for myself… Perhaps then I can… Hm? Oh, nothing, just talking to myself.

During an Event: Oh, an event is going on? I suppose I should escort you there to see what is going on.

Birthday: Yes, yes, happy birthday and all that. Enjoy your cake and your festivities, and all that stuff. Some of us actually have important things to do. 'What are they?' …shut up.

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Deceitful. Cruel. Evil. Greedy. Treacherous. These words have long followed the name ‘Mordred’ for centuries. Since the betrayal of King Arthur, Mordred Pendragon has gone down in history as one of the most infamous traitors to ever live. This Servant is the living embodiment of that very same reputation, being a vile and wicked schemer with an unending lust for power.

A Mordred from an alternate timeline, raised in earnest by their mother, as opposed to their Proper Human History counterpart being abused and ashamed of their heritage of being the child of the Witch-Queen of Orkney. A master of combat, and a genius in Magecraft, this Mordred succeeded in their rebellion against King Arthur, slaying the King of Knights and taking the throne of Camelot as the last of the Round Table.

Bond Level 1:

Height/Weight: 171cm • 65kg Source: Arthurian Mythology Region: Wales Alignment: Chaotic • Evil Gender: Nonbinary

While normally Excalibur's pseudo-immortality would leave Mordred at the same age physically as the time they wielded it, because the Holy Sword is actively rejecting them, they lack the blessing of Excalibur. Instead, this version of Mordred has matured as if they had chosen the Holy Lance, though noticeably lacking the incredible defense Excalibur would normally grant.

"While it is a pain in the ass to lose the immortality of Excalibur... Who needs it when I can just smash any enemy in front of me to pieces?! Besides, look at me! I rule!"

Despite the seemingly higher intellect and maturity, this Mordred is just as childish and petty as the other Mordreds, Holy Sword or no Holy Sword.

Bond Level 2:

"Mother... What the hell is going on here?!"

"Oh, dear... It seems I taught you well, my daughter. Too well."

"Don't change the subject on me! You... Did you seriously try to kill me?! Why?!"

"Isn't it obvious? You were the only thing standing between me and the throne I was owed. That was stolen from me by Uther and given to Artoria! I was the rightful heir to Camelot, and I was denied it!"

"I know that! That was why you wanted me to kill the king, wasn't it?! So a child of Orkney could take back the kingdom?!

"Still so slow on the uptake, Mordred? A pity, I thought I raised you better than that. I didn't want you on the throne. Honestly, I was hoping you and Arthur would end up killing each other. Unfortunately, you survived..."

"So everything you told me... All the care you put into raising me?! All your teachings?! All of it was just so you could get me to kill Father?!"

"Sadly, yes... You were just meant to be a weapon, Mordred. And what a weapon you were. I'm so proud of you..."

SHING!

"GAH, YOU LITTLE BASTARD!"

"You... Mother... No. Morgan! You have committed treason against your king. Stand down now, and I'll spare your life. Otherwise I will kill you!"

"'King...?' What a joke. You aren't even half the king Uther was, much less anything like Arthur. You are just a pathetic weapon meant to sit tight and obey! Do you hear me?! You're nothing more than a filthy homun-!"

SCHLICK!

Bond Level 3 (Clear "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"):

Despite the era of peace Mordred's rule brought to Camelot, it was never enough. Their citizens feared them, seeing Mordred as a bloodthirsty tyrant. Their knights despised them, seeing Mordred as a terrible machine. Nothing Mordred did would ever be enough to repent for the terrible bloodshed and misery the War at Camlann caused, with many crying out for the return of King Arthur to the throne.

The sole allies Mordred had, Sir Lancelot and Lady Guinevere, had left long ago in shame and disgrace, hating themselves for their participation in the Fall of Camelot. Mordred had gained everything they had ever wanted. The throne, the Holy Sword, the crown. And yet, nothing was ever enough to escape the shadow of Arthur.

Desperate and embittered, Mordred eventually decided that the only way to improve their own reputation was to destroy Arthur's own. Using their skill in Magecraft, they summoned an alternate version of Artoria Pendragon, the Altered King of Ghosts, to ravage Camelot, trapping her under Madness Enhancement.

The people would all see the image of the beloved king destroying Camelot, and Mordred as the savior defending Camelot. Then... Then they would love Mordred.

Bond Level 4:

Why...?

Why do they still cheer for you over me? Why do they still claim you to be the Once and Future King? Why do they still hate me?! I'm supposed to be the hero here! I'm saving them! I'm protecting them! From you! And still, they sing your praises, and drag my name through the mud?! Where's the justice in that?!

I've given everything to help Camelot thrive! I've killed so many people... My friends... My brothers... My mother and father... And for what?! For a kingdom that won't accept me?! For a throne that constantly rejects me?! For people that constantly put me in your shadow?! Even in death, you still look down on me! Even after all I've done, everyone only remembers me as the one who killed King Arthur!

Arthur...

Arthur...!

AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!

...I understand now. Mother was right. You really are nothing but a thief. You stole my glory. You stole my kingdom. You stole my future from me! Everything I do is tainted with your influence. No matter what I do, I will always be compared to you, seen as inferior to you, seen as the evil that will oppose you. Fine then. If the world will only know me as the one who slew King Arthur... Then I might as well live up to this. This time... I will end the Legend of King Arthur permanently.

Bond Level 5(Clear "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"):

Deceitful. Cruel. Evil. Greedy. Treacherous. These are the labels that humanity has given to Mordred. These are all humanity will ever know the knight Mordred to be. After realizing this, Mordred has chosen to cast off all attempts at being a just king, and has fully embraced the idea of being the wicked Knight of Treachery that opposes their father. A cruel and wicked tyrant that seeks to end the very idea of 'King Arthur', no matter the cost and no matter the hatred they get in return.

To that same end, they battled with their father, the Altered King of Storms, in a recreation of their fated duel at Camlann. Father and Son, King and Usurper, once again dueling to decide the future of Britain. The King of Storms took no joy in this battle, once again being forced to face their failures as a king and a father. The Knight of Treachery, on the other hand, threw themselves at Artoria without remorse, not caring for a moment how their body broke or how much blood was spilled. All that mattered was killing the person that stood before them once and for all.

"See Father?! I told you I was better than you! I told you that I would be the better king! Now... Say it! Say that I am your better! Say that I am your rightful heir! Say that I am worthy to be your son! SAY IT ALREADY!"

Extra (Clear "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"):

At first glance, Mordred Alter couldn’t be more different than their Proper Human History counterpart. One is blunt, rude, and callous, the other is clever, polite, and seemingly friendly. One is all too happy to settle a conflict with fist and blade, the other will at least attempt a diplomatic approach before battle inevitably comes. One was a simple weapon, built only to kill and die. The other attempted to become more than that, a ruler that would bring Camelot into an era of peace and prosperity.

At their core, however, they are the same person.

Despite being the one to kill their father, they admire them, desiring nothing more than to follow in their footsteps. One to try and help relieve their burden of being a king, the other to try and help carve a path towards peace and prosperity. Both follow a path of chivalry, despising those who trod upon the innocent and weak, even if their own demeanor makes them seem as though they are the same. They are arrogant, proud, and boastful, not believing that there is any potential for failure on the road they walk, carrying themselves with the dignity and pride expected of a true king.

They want to be respected, to be acknowledged, and to be loved.

But one does not gain such things through force or power. One cannot make it happen by their own will. It is as impossible a task as counting every single star in the sky across the endless universe.

But that’s what Mordred does best, isn’t it? Seek the impossible to make it their own.

#fate #fate grand order #fgo #fate fanservant #fanservant #mordred #mordred pendragon #mordred alter #writing and other stuff #i've been sitting on this one for a while #hope y'all like it #mordred alter is a concept i know a lot of folks have wanted #including myself #so i wanted to try and tackle my idea of what a mordred alter would be like #i liked the idea of hearkening back to a more modern interpretation of 'mordred as a villain' with their alter #but i also wanted to avoid mordred alter being unsympathetic given the established character of mordred #so i liked the idea of mordred alter being a mordred that won #defeating artoria at camlann #and then defeating morgan as well #taking the throne of camelot and becoming the king #but ultimately ending up bitter and miserable because... even with the throne no one sees their reign as legitimate #no matter how well mordred rules #no matter how kindly they treat their subjects #they will always be rejected #ultimately driving mordred to madness and desperation as they try and escape the massive legacy of their father #but no matter how hard they try #they will always be the villain in artoria's history #i also liked the idea of giving mordred alter a friendship with lancelot and guinevere #because in a few texts mordred was actually lancelot's squire #and i liked the idea of king mordred having a soft spot for lancelot because of that

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