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undyingembers · 2 years

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Ooh ok I must ask about the Len/Daeran Cinderella AU!

Ask me About my AU’s

Len/Dae Cinderella

This one pretty much takes place on Golarion. You got your tieflings, aasimars, elves, gods, demons, magic, what have you. It’s just the timing of events that play out differently.

Lenarius’s canon backstory plays out the same way. When he was born, his parents lost a lot of standing for birthing a tiefling child. He was kept away from society and ostracized his whole life.

One thing to note is that I have a background character who is relatively important to Lenarius’s canon backstory. In canon, the family managed to get the services of a tiefling cobbler for Lenarius. I still haven’t come up with a name for the guy, but he was one of the only people who showed Lenarius kindness. When it became apparent that the human staff and professionals that his family hired were not prepared (or willing) to make certain…accommodations for Lenarius’s unique physiology, they had to turn elsewhere for help.

So anyway, much like in my Phantom of the Opera AU, when Daeran’s parents died, Galfrey was made his guardian. She was hoping that Daeran might find a wife and rebuild the Arendae family by now. However, Daeran is in absolutely no rush to settle down and have kids. He’d much rather carouse and feast his way through life and kick up as many scandals as he can (idk if the Other is around in this version; I’m going to say no). The two of them fought a lot about this issue until one day, they agreed on a deal. Daeran would attend a grand ball where Galfrey would invite all the noble families with eligible daughters. However, Daeran would ultimately be the one to choose, and if he chose no one, then Galfrey would have to grudgingly accept that.

As soon as the Scaeva family receives their invitation, they make plans to present Lenarius’s older sister Serapia at the ball. It’s a long shot; Serapia is more than ten years older than Daeran and she’s rather unremarkable (plus she’s aro-gay and not particularly thrilled about this), but if she can secure a marriage with Daeran, then it would save the family from the disgrace of having a tainted bloodline. Lenarius fantasizes about attending this grand ball, but he knows that his mother would rather eat a babau’s barbed tail than let him go anywhere near it, so he resigns himself to staying on the sidelines as the rest of the family bustle about with their preparations.

The day Lenarius’s mother and siblings leave for Nerosyan, Lenarius decides he wants to make himself feel better by getting some new shoes made for him. A hare approaches him and his shoemaker as he is getting fitted in the garden. It is Hortensia, the companion of his devil ancestor. The deviless herself shows up not far behind and reveals the truth about Lenarius’s fiendish ancestry and that she is in the process of repenting for the evils she has committed. As part of that, she wants to help her “descendent” find happiness to make up for the suffering he had endured from being a tiefling.

Lenarius asks her if she could help him attend Queen Galfrey’s grand ball without his family noticing. She casts a spell to make it seem Lenarius is a human. Same deal in the story: she gives him a lovely gown and a carriage made from the local vegetation and transforms some nearby wild hares into horses. She even transforms the just fitted but unfinished shoes into a gorgeous pair of stylish shoes that fit his abnormal tiefling feet (this is in canon as well; Len has unusually long feet that are covered with hair and, instead of toenails, he has black claws sticking out of his toes. Having a special shoemaker that specializes in making footwear for tieflings is a somewhat big deal for him in canon). The deviless also gives the same illusion/transformation spell to the shoemaker so that he may travel along with Len as well. To get Lenarius into the ball, she reaches out to some contacts she has with the Chelaxian embassy to get him a position in the delegation that is to be in attendance. The spell breaks at midnight blah blah blah.

Lenarius and the shoemaker head out. He meets up with the delegation. They fit him up with a fabricated name and some false documents, and finally Len goes into the palace.

Neither Len nor Daeran expected to be drawn to each other. Len figures that Daeran is way out of his reach, and Daeran wants nothing to do with Cheliax. However, Lenarius does decide to approach Daeran in a fit of boldness; this is the only night he gets to do this after all, and no one will ever see him again. What could go wrong? It starts with Lenarius asking him to dance. Daeran agrees, but he’s very snippy about it, shooting snide remarks at Lenarius as they dance. Lenarius responds not with gasps of outrage or tuts of disapproval, but he comes back at Daeran with sharp witticisms of his own, and it’s not long before they build a rapport. Daeran finds himself more and more intrigued by this handsome stranger from Cheliax.

At some point, Serapia, with more than a little bit of prodding from her mother, awkwardly tries to have the next dance with Daeran. Lenarius tries to excuse himself, but Daeran decides to ditch the dance floor and go with him. Lenarius can only shoot her an apologetic look as he and Daeran walk away arm in arm.

Talk circulates among the ballroom about the mysterious courtier who has captured the Count’s attention. Galfrey is hopeful, but unnerved by this development. It bothers her that absolutely no one has ever heard about this person. Also, Lenarius isn’t someone who can have children with Daeran. Although marriage between any two adults is perfectly legal, it is a little worrying for someone who is the last of a noble family.

As for Lenarius and Daeran, the two of them have fun. Because no one knows who Len is, he feels more bold than usual; he talks about interests that he would never reveal and opens up about things he never shared. Daeran picks up on this vibe and starts opening up about himself as well.

At some point, the two of them end up on a balcony. Daeran opens up about how he feels stifled under Galfrey’s guardianship. “If my cousin had her way, I would be a perfectly mannered little doll married to a respectable lady and start a thriving family, never causing any embarrassment to her or my family.” Though Lenarius doesn’t tell Daeran the whole truth, he tells Daeran that he doesn’t live his life freely. After the ball, he would go right back to doing exactly what his family wants him to do and never stepping out of line again.

He also admits that he’s not supposed to be here. He falsified his way to get into the ball to have one night of freedom.

The more Daeran hears, the more he finds his companion absolutely compelling. The two of them kiss right before the clock strikes midnight. Lenarius tells Daeran he has to go. Daeran protests, telling him that he will protect Lenarius from anyone who tries to take him. Lenarius teleports off the balcony down to the grounds below and escapes with the shoemaker.

Because of a teleportation mishap, Lenarius leaves behind one of his shoes on the balcony. He realizes this just as the carriage and “horses” turn back to normal and he and the cobbler have to walk back to his family’s estate. Since the shoemaker still has Lenarius’s old boots from the fitting, he offers them back to Lenarius and takes the other transformed shoe so Len can actually walk home.

The next day, Daeran approaches Galfrey and announces that he wants to marry the mysterious person he spent the night with. All they have to work on is the beautiful but rather unusual shoe Lenarius left behind. Galfrey doesn’t like this idea, but Daeran is adamant that she keep her end of the bargain. Irabeth also doesn’t like this, as she thinks that if someone entered the castle who wasn’t supposed to be there posed a serious danger to Daeran and the queen, but Anevia wants to give this a chance.

Galfrey sends out her people to go look for this person. The Chelaxian embassy is immensely unhelpful. They make empty promises to find that person from their contingent, but all they can come up with is excuses. Anevia even secretly searches among the slaves, purchasing and freeing as many as she can along the way. Galfrey really doesn’t want to go along with the whole “match the shoe to everyone in the kingdom” because she believes that it’s another one of Daeran’s jokes, but Daeran is uncharacteristically adamant about this.

Before they can get to Len, his family finds out about that the person they are looking for is him and find out about the deal he made with his devil “ancestor”. Lenarius’s mother is furious about this and orders him locked up. When Anevia arrives at the Scaeva estate, they tell her that Lenarius was on a trip to a monastery and could not have been at the palace. However, as she is about to leave, the shoemaker stops her. He proves to her that it was Len by showing her the other shoe, that he still had. Len’s feet are so unique that even among tieflings it’s almost impossible to find another who would match.

They break Len out of the tower, Len goes back to Daeran’s estate. Daeran keeps Lenarius around and eventually marries him, much to Galfrey’s consternation. Everyone says that the turn of events was just another scandal the Count decided to cook up, but the two seem happy enough.

#thanks for the ask!#dragonologist phd #commander lenarius #lenarius #lenariusxdaeran #my writing

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mightysteelix · 3 years

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The Sin Of Gluttony

Because this, after all, is still a fic blog. Here's my newest story - and my longest so far. And it did not take as much time as I expected, being finished in two-three weeks. Written to fix the lack of Shirou/Dantes fics and the lack of male "Fate/" kink fics.

Rating: Mature Category: M/M Fandoms: Fate/Grand Order Relationship: Amakusa Shirou Tokisada | Ruler/Edmond Dantès | Avenger Characters: Amakusa Shirou Tokisada | Ruler and Edmond Dantès | Avenger Summary: Shirou Amakusa had been sneaking in Chaldea's kitchen to indulge his gluttony. Thus, Archer enlists one Avenger to help him.Weight-gain kink fic. Don't like, don't read.

WARNING FOR KINK CONTENTS UNDER THE CUT

Additional Tags: Weight Gain; Belly Kink; Rapid weight gain; Magically assisted weight gain; Main character is 18+; Force-Feeding; Teasing; Erections; Mildly Dubious Consent; Feeder Edmond Dantès; Feedee Amakusa Shirou

LAST WARNING FOR KINK

Amakusa Shirou sneaked into Chaldea’s kitchen. Coast - clear.

The last master of humanity was snoring in their bed, lulled by Nursery Rhyme’s tales. The Servants had taken the opportunity to sleep - expect the most obsessed, who tried to barge in Ritsuka’s room. Even EMIYA, usually restless about his domain, had holed with the rest of his not-exactly family.

As expected. Amakusa planned every heist months in advance, manipulating Servants for the perfect night. As a saint - even if apocryphal - he should reject the pleasures of the flesh: forget the buttery cookies, the fluffy desserts, the sweets that melted in the mouth... Snapping from the trance, he caught himself drooling. His eyes sparkled with desire. He had to fight the sin that would lead him astray.

Yet he crossed the large dining area in a single leap and entered the kitchen. The enthralling taste of gluttony, as captivating as EMIYA’s food, lingered. His own desires were controlling him. For a third night, he would indulge his longing in secret, fill his craving stomach with the most masterful food the world could offer. He would stuff his stomach past the norms of sense, lose himself in the pleasure of food. Perhaps the Fiendish Bodhisattva had cursed him with the unquenchable hunger.

Amakusa licked his lips, imaging the feast tonight. “Or my sins crushed me and I am their slave.” He should have rejected it. Yet those greedy desires took over the priest, stealing any control. Against the craving, he had no power. Gulping down his dry throat, he opened the fridge slowly, as if performing a holy rite. Sweet, sweet aroma tickled his nose. His fingers shivered. The light blinded his eyes, used to the dim darkness. As he adjusted, the outlines of the dishes took a concrete form. A large tray of cookies sprinkled white with powdered sugar; a few batches of thick, sweet, and fluffy ice cream.

Above them stood the crown jewel of EMIYA’s cooking - a five-layered cake, patiently decorated. Sugar flowers colored the frosting, each one with crafted petals. Fine glaze ribbons circled each tier. The Archer must have put an entire day in his masterpiece.

And Amakusa would destroy it in sheer, unbridled gluttony - a grave, unforgivable sin. Once he was stuffed, unable to stomach another morsel and pinned in one place by the pain and the weight of the food, he would polish down the cake in the most wasteful, decadent show of greed. His heart beat faster in his chest.

“The feast has started,” Amakusa whispered and took the chosen dishes. The light thinned, before disappearing as he pushed the door closed. Alone in the dark, hidden from everyone’s stare, he snatched a cookie and pressed it between his teeth. They tore the sweet dough. The sugar melted over his tongue.

“EMIYA,” he moaned, “you have outdone yourself again.” After gulping the cookie, he took another. The sweetness excited his tongue. His greedy fingers reached for the next one and it disappeared as quickly. The risk of capture at any moment, red-handed at the crime scene; the off chance his plan could fail drove him to gulp faster. If he did not finish before the others woke up, he had lost.

The ritual ended as the last cookie traveled down in Amakusa’s belly. A whole tray and he was barely stuffed. He had laughed at the tales of Saber’s hunger yet now was outeating her. His fingers rubbed the small curve of his stomach, hidden under his baggy clothes. A solid beginning, yet so far from the gluttony he desired.

“What should I pick now?” he asked himself. The cookies - however heavenly - had dried his mouth further. Some ice cream would serve as a relief. Amakusa opened one tub, a fresh, chocolate wave of coldness pinching his cheeks. “It’s decided.”

Standing like a hero against their sworn enemy, Amakusa held his sword - a spoon - and broke the dark brown, almost black, layer of syrup.

“Huh?” Shadows hissed out of the ice cream and twirled around his arm. The curse chilled his skin, leaving a deep chain mark. Amakusa tensed. He tried to free his hand, yet the darkness pulled him closer, even more chains shooting at him. One bound his free arm, another warped his legs painfully tight.

They held him above the ground, unable to move a single finger. Only his mouth remained free. Should he scream for help? No, his captor desired that - to break his pride by forcing an admission out of him. He would never allow himself to be caught.

“Do not hope you will escape!” Thundering, evil laugh boomed. Pale sparks flared around the core of the curse. The shadows grew like smoke. Two legs formed under the cloud, covered by a long, dark coat to the ankles. “For your sin has already claimed your very soul!” The Avenger - the Count of Monte Cristo - cackled. His eyes flared brightly like the flames of hell. “No salvation awaits you!”

“This noise for me? Ah, you flatter me, Avenger.” Amakusa smiled, far more sweetly than any pastry. “I doubt you will release me if I ask.” He closed his eyes and lowered his voice to a sly whisper. “Would at least tell me why you took your time to curse me?”

“Politeness will lead you nowhere! The Archer yearned for vengeance.” Edmond walked closer to Amakusa, leaving a trail of shadows behind himself. “His thirst summoned me. The perpetrator must suffer and regret his crimes.”

“Have you stolen Holmes’ job? He will hate it. Very well, you caught me. You can turn me to the Master.” The pleasant way out. The preferable one.

Edmond shook head, his long hair swaying. “No, mon ami. Our Master will forgive you. That would be justice - their justice, yet the Archer does not care about it. He wants retribution, he wants punishment.” The fire in his eyes died as he held Amakusa’s cheek. “You will bear the weight of your sins.”

Amakusa gulped - an exaggerated jest of fake fear. “Does he plan to hang me until my limbs become numb? He must have a strange taste.”

The Count’s manic laughter filled the kitchen, making the utensils on the wall shake. “No, he gave me full right over your punishment. If the greatest Avenger accepts it, it will satisfy his dark desire. No one is observing us, nor anyone will wake in the following hours. Until our time runs out, I will plunge you in my curse.” He took the spoonful of ice cream from Amakusa’s hand. “Enjoy your greed, sinner! Rejoice as you become the embodiment of your sin!”

The spoon aimed for Amakusa’s mouth. He shut his mouth and bent his head backward. Whatever the Count had prepared, he would not comply. Although empty curiosity (or greater hunger) gnawed on his thoughts, eating him alive, he resisted. One word and the Count would stab with the spoon.

“Too late!” The magical sparks lit the kitchen with their pale colours. “You should have fought your sin before eating the bait!” Another shadow - thin like a piece of cloth - forced Amakusa’s mouth ajar.

He struggled to close it. His jaws shivered, pulled back by the bindings.

"Now," the Count continued, “you can repent only through punishment!” As soon as Amakusa’s lips opened, he lunged the loaded spoon in his mouth.

The ice cream had already molten a little. Thick and syrupy, it chilled Amakusa’s tongue. Sweet chocolate excited his taste buds, before emptying in his throat and leaving him craving more. He licked his teeth - some of the treat had stuck there. “Do you plan to feed me the entire night?”

“The punishment must fit the sin! Tell me, priest, how else should I discipline you?” Edmond scooped more ice cream, before pushing it in Amakusa’s mouth. “Three nights I prepared the perfect curse for you.” The shadow loosened its hold. “A curse to please Archer’s and my lust!”

Amakusa had to stop. The Avenger’s plans could only end badly for him. If he clenched teeth again, he could fight the spoons: sweet, sticky, pleasuring… The lingering chocolate taste flared up in the pit of his stomach. He wanted - no; he needed the creamy, thick confection down his throat.

A priest should reject any temptation.

And yet once the ice cream touched Amakusa’s tongue, he gulped down desperately.

“That’s it!” More frantic than a Berserker, Edmond forced a spoonful after a spoonful in Amakusa’s mouth. “Fall in your sin! Embrace your desires and suffer!”

The priest obeyed like a trained pet. He could not reject the tingling pleasure of the sugar. Each gulp moistened his throat, making him shiver with delight before a stronger, fresher taste replaced it. Closing his eyes, he waited for the powerful, familiar fullness. Once hunger had left him, he would eat because he wanted to blow in size: bloated, overfed, huge, indulging. Most thoughts were pushed away, only one lingering. The Avenger must have realized Amakusa enjoyed his punishment.

“You are shaping up perfectly!” The chocolate taste died without a new hit to replace it. “Now everybody in Chaldea will realize your gluttony!” Edmond pressed hands over Amakusa’s belly. “Did you believe I will only feed you?” The black shadows let him on the kitchen counter. “No! You will suffer the results of your sin: your lustful, decadent greed!” Where Amakusa used to have solid abs, now there was a chubby, small belly.

Intriguing. Out of all possible torments: the hellish tower; the soul-sucking nightmares - the Count chose to feed him in person and curse him with fatness. Amakusa smiled like the sun. "You do not lose points for originality. But what are you going to do now?" He took a spoon and fed himself a large scoop of the cursed ice cream. His body tingled as the sweet taste washed over his tongue and he felt himself pluming the slightеst bit.

Edmond snorted. "I have already broken you? Pity. I expected you would rebel for longer. If you had tried to run, I would have had you tied and stuffed for the whole night."

"Not at all." Amakusa's warm eyes locked on the Count. "You have not broken me. I would have eaten the ice cream anyway." He cupped his chin - a little thicker than normal. "Cannot let my careful planning waste. Thank you for speeding the process and feeding me."

Sparks flew around the Count, making the kitchen glow. "Don't talk!" he ordered, tying Amakusa with the shadows once again. "I will fatten you up until you need to be rolled around Chaldea! How could you still eat despite the curse?"

So cute. The big bad Avenger was flustered and his it behind anger.

Amakusa scratched the flab lightly. Small ripples formed around, disappearing at the limits of his newly gained fat. It was a real, permanent part of him; a definite proof of his gluttony. "Be fast, please." He wanted to grow soft, enormous, fattened by his inevitable obsession. And he would make the Avenger admit he enjoyed the night as much. "Perhaps I should have tried to run. I'd rather not waste time on small talk when there is still food."

"I shall make you eat your words along with everything else!" Edmond flared as if burning alive. The shadows boiled and squirmed behind him. One coiled around Amakusa's legs and pinned them to the base of the counter. "Even if you enjoy it now, the night is still young. I have endless time to make it a worthy punishment!"

"Would you drop the pretences already?" Amakusa leaned forward and his shirt rode a little, showing a silver of tan skin. He held Edmond's palm in his hands. "If you admit we both seek pleasure, the night will be more enjoyable."

"What pretences?" The Count pulled his hand free. "I work in the name of vengeance! My only pleasure is the pain of my victims!" He draped over his prisoner and fed him so fast that Amakusa could not talk.

The overfilled spoon left his lips and came again, even more full, forcing him to gulp or drown in the ice cream. With each course, his belly expanded - even more extra weight piling on it, stretching his black shirt tighter and making it ride up higher. The speck of revealed skin grew as his little bit of flab engorged in a proper gut - and Amakusa would not stop.

Not that Edmond would let him. Frantic sparks shot around, giving short bursts of light - Amakusa bigger at every one. Laughing madly fast, he scooped through the tub and ensured that all of its contents ended in the priest's mouth. Any moment he expected to break Amakusa's bliss and make him beg for mercy.

But it did not happen. As Amakusa’s body widened, so did his grin. A decadent desire possessed him; he sucked the ice cream from the spoon before Edmond had finished putting it in his mouth. He poked his hands sideways in his stomach and shook it up and down, the vibrations jolting through his flab. The weight over his hands increased, and he put more force to jiggle his forming rolls. The next dose could not come fast enough.

And even though the Avenger controlled Amakusa, he was fighting on the defensive, unable to find an excuse. Tied and speechless, the priest still rebelled against him. Not only rebelling, but he also held swath over Edmond’s actions. His joy would not end soon; the Count’s anger was burning up. And how could it stay, when Amakusa ate every fattening spoon and took the full bunt of the curse?

The Count dragged the spoon out of Amakusa’s mouth but did not fill it again with ice cream.

“What happened?” Amakusa asked, his nimble tongue licking the ice cream on his lips. “Has it run out? Too bad,” he laughed, his chubbier cheeks jiggling along. “I was just starting to enjoy it. Can we move to the cake now? A bit earlier than I expected, but if there’s no more ice cream left…”

“How?” Edmond broke the spoon in two as if it was a mere twig. “An Avenger - a Servant born of hatred - to bring pleasure? Impossible!” With a flick of his hands, he cleared his pale sparks, drowning the kitchen in total darkness. “I hoped to keep this as my finishing move, but your joy has continued for too long!”

He took the second tub - the first truly empty - and imbued it with his dark power. It glowed a sick green color as the ice cream boiled, bubbles forming and exploding with a strong ‘Pop!’. It melted, leaving a thick liquid full of sugary calories. As soon as the light died, he pressed the tub to Amakusa’s lips.

The viscous liquid slogged down the priest’s throat, and the empowered curse fattened him faster. Even in the darkness, he felt himself expanding, stretching the black shirt to sizes Amakusa never imagined it would reach. Each gigantic gulp sent shocks through his gut. It flopped, pulling the shirt higher. Now it covered only the topmost part of his belly - and soon would free it as the mass of lard did not stop growing.

His pants proved somewhat more resistant, digging deep in his gut. The waistband stretched to its limit, a mound of flesh falling over it. Amakusa tried to reach under it and unbutton his pants, but his chubby fingers could not budge the button. He would have to pop it with his growing gut. An even heavier gulp made his abdomen sag lower, resting on his tights.

Of course, the fattening had not spared them either. His legs filled the dark pants, pushing the material beyond its limit. He felt the brush of air on his bare skin, small holes having formed around the seams. The fabric pressed deep, but with each second the thread unraveled further.

His arms also expanded, losing any muscular definition. Even with the powers of a Servant, he moved them with more difficulty than before. The arm flab quivered with his movements, doubling the pleasure of exploring his flabby body.

And the cushion of his ass softened, taking more and more place over the counter. Amakusa sneaked his hand down his back, squeezing the thick globe of pure fat. His nails dug in the flesh and the ripples traveled to his knees, the flab a perfect conductor for them. Moving up, he groped his large love handles - they have united with the bulk of his gut, forming a flabby ring around him.

How huge was he? He could see nothing, only feeling his belly bulge and his shirt rise and his pants tighten… Once the lights came back, Amakusa expected incredible joy and disappointment. He would find how enormous he had become, yet it would never reach his imagination. If his lardy ass covered the counter, the floor would be the next challenge, then the rest of Chaldea…

After each gulp, he leaned back more and more, the sudden weight of his gut proving too much for a Servant’s body - or another effect of the curse? The more his belly surged out, the closer he came to lying down, pinned under the always growing weight of his own fat. Could he even stand up on his own once done? Or he would rely on the Count’s whims: seemingly unpredictable, but completely under Amakusa’s control and in an endless game of cat and mouse?

As Amakusa lay on his back, the warm fat insulating the cold counter, the last spurt of the ice cream fell in his throat and pushed out his flabby sphere of a gut.

“Perfect!” The Count dissolved the shadows and jabbed his fingers in Amakusa’s stomach, above his belly button. The vibrations shook his mass, reaching to his now-ample moobs. “With all this fat pressing you down, you must feel -“

“Perfect.” Amakusa cut in Edmond. He huffed as he sat up, mashing his bulbous gut and forcing more pressure on his soft ass. “Did you believe that you can make me regret it? Abandon my gluttony?” He laughed, feeling his chubby cheeks wobble. “Avenger, this time your plans failed.”

The Count clenched fists. A storm of sparks flared around him, throwing blinding light over the kitchen. Amakusa bowed head, avoiding the sudden brightness. He saw his rolls: wide and flabby, daring almost to touch the counter.

“I failed!” The Count stomped away, causing the kitchen to shake - Amakusa’s fat body included. “I had only to force you to regret your sin, make you detest your desires - to punish you in Archer’s name! And now the night has fallen to ruin.” His body vacuumed all the sparks but the palest light.

“It does not have to be,” Amakusa said. “We have not touched the cake. Your last chance to make me detest the curse. Will you take up to the challenge?”

“Yes,” Edmond muttered. “Yes!” he roared, clenching fists in a triumphant pose. “You, mon ami, will curse my name by the end of the night!” He burnt bright with sparks. The closer he walked to Amakusa, the more air around him heated. “I swear it! As the sun rises, you will curse the Count of Monte Cristo!”

“And I swear,” Amakusa replied in turn, “to make you admit that you have enjoyed the night.” It was a deal with a handsome devil; a bet he would win. He extended his pudgy hand to Edmond’s slender one.

Edmond fell in the trap; once their fingers pressed, Amakusa pulled him closer, making him fall in the mountain of his gut. The sudden movement made Amakusa’s whole body jiggle like a ball of squishy jelly. Trying to push himself up from the soft pile, Edmond only sent greater tremors through it. He spoke horrible curses, his fiery tongue licking Amakusa’s skin. The priest wanted only to keep him there forever, worshiping and feeding him.

Alas, the momentary happiness had to end. Using his shadows, the Count pulled himself free. “I have never thought a priest as you would fall to such nasty tricks.” He draped over Amakusa. His hands groped his flabby moobs for support. “You could have asked.”

“You would have refused,” Amakusa smiled without a trace of regret. “Or I have won?”

“Not even close. I am merely -“ he leaned even closer, above the priest’s lips, “- casting a bigger net.” Edmond massaged Amakusa’s moobs, his fingers squeezing the two sacks of flab. His knees gently kneaded the gigantic mass of his gut.

Amakusa’s pants tightened even more. His erect dick pressed in the flab of his tights, and each ripple of his belly sent a stronger joust of pleasure through it. “And how it helps you to give me more pleasure?”

Edmond’s heated breath touched the priest’s face. “I could chain you with the shadows and leave you here.” One of his hands slipped lower and stroke Amakusa’s dick slowly. “Begging on the verge of a release that is not coming.”

“Is this your rumored cruelty, Avenger?” Amakusa smiled and pulled Edmond in a tight hug. “Then I will reply in kind.” He dragged his flabby hands over the Count’s back, holding them over his tight, tiny ass. Edmond’s dick poked into Amakusa’s stomach. “Now we are even.”

“Do not overstep your bounds, Ruler.” Pressing hands on the counter, Edmond pushed himself up above Amakusa’s face, close, but out of reach. “I might just decide to leave you packed in shadows as a present for the Archer.”

“Perhaps it is your fault. If someone was… I don’t know - feeding me too fast - I would have no time to play with you.” Amakusa trailed a finger over his fat, empty gut. “Bear the responsibility and keep engorging me. Ensure I grow constantly.”

“Your tendency for shameful moves should have made you a Caster. A warning to the people, who don’t expect sneaky priests.” Edmond jumped off the counter and turned his back to Amakusa. “No.” He snorted, shaking his head. “I knew your nature and still chose to fight against you.” The flame in his eyes glowed. “Enfer Château d’If!” His body tensed and in the next second, he had Amakusa gagged again, while he leaned over his mouth with a chunk of the cake.

One shadow had coiled around Amakusa’s calves, squishing the fat on them, and slammed them to the base of the counter. A second bound his hands, forcing him to lie down on the table.

Amakusa smirked and opened his lips. “I won,” he muttered before the Count pushed the pastry down his throat. He gulped the light, extra buttery dough, letting the curse do its job. His tights fattened around his hard dick, embracing it in hot flab. Almost cuming, Amakusa ground them together. The movement shook his stomach, its bottom roll falling onto the tip of his cock and pressing deeper.

The Count moved at a fiendish speed; before Amakusa could gulp, a new portion of the cake had filled his mouth. Using both hands, he tore from Archer’s masterpiece, all in the important goal of feeding his priest. Amakusa twitched, his erection throbbing.

His moobs - two balls of fat that could rival Raikou’s - strained the black shirt which fought in vain to cover them. His sleeves fared even worse; bits of exposed skin oozed out of the large tears. The tight pants endured the longest, yet as Amakusa’s gut pushed out heavier, fatter, more decadent, the waistband groaned. After an especially heavy chunk, the layer of fat forced it stretch more. The fabric could not take it and with a loud sound tore all the way down to his crotch.

Amakusa moaned as he felt himself cum, soaking his tight underpants. The Count paid no notice, only using the opportunity to force even more food into his wide-opened mouth. The priest’s body heated even more as a haze of incredible pleasure clouded his thoughts. He ate on autopilot, not caring how big he would end - it would not be enough. Thus, they would repeat the night’s session later, when…

The sweet flow of the cake ended. “What happened?” he asked, licking his lips. “Have I eaten the entire cake?” Already? Even with Edmond’s Noble Phantasm increasing his speed, the doughy tower should have lasted longer. Amakusa wanted to check, but his fattened neck and the tight shadows restricted his movement.

“Not yet.” The Count gritted his teeth, turning his head away from Amakusa. The long shade of his collar hid his face. “But I lost my only advantage. You have won. I do not have to feed you further,” he said in a weak tone. Melting away, the shadows released their prisoner.

‘You have won.’ The hollow words did nothing to fill the void in Amakusa’s stomach. He lay unmoving, staring at the dark ceiling of the room while Edmond walked away. “Wait,” he said, just as the Count stood in the door, ready to leave him. “As long as there’s some cake left, you have chances. You can fatten me so much that I would regret it. So fat that I would depend on you for everything.”

Edmond leaned on the door. “And yet you would still like it. Tell me, priest, one reason not to leave.”

“You will never know. I might just realize I dislike my size once the cake is over. Would you risk missing the chance to taunt me over it and mock me? Would the Avenger miss his vengeance? Besides,” Amakusa whispered an octave lower, “I am sure you are as aroused as I was.”

“Even the goddess of pleasure cannot compete with you.” The Count turned, his coat fluttering behind him in an arc. “Very well, priest. You will entertain me for some more time.”

Tomorrow, Amakusa would deal with the questions, the stares, and the consequences. The Great Order, the King of Mages, even simply moving became a distant goal. Tonight he had a cake to finish and a Count to tease.

#weight gain stories #male weight gain #male weight gain stories #weight gain fanifction #Fate Grand Order #amakusa shirou #edmond dantes #chubwritings

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edfvwadfadwas · 3 years

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“We shall deal with your uncle and mickey egeres babakocsi his feigned boy in due time

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empirexsin · 3 years

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‘ why did you hit him? ’ / @salixxs

they have not known one another for that long. they should not be in each other’s worlds. their paths should never have crossed and yet somehow, they have. a mission by her father to get maximillian - otherwise known as max - on his side. to unite max with his only daughter, as if a prize if he accepts to give back the land he has taken, and to refrain from the violence he so actively participates in. freely. happily. she knows what he is capable of without even seeing it. the entire world seems to be aware of max’s reputation. a man of whom wanders the world, sometimes alone, and sometimes with men following him - a gang of men, and he, their leader. he wanders far and wide, conquering land as his own territory and slaughtering those who step into his path. violence is all that max has ever known in his life ever since childhood. even max is aware that violence, naked force, has settled more issues in history than any other factor. conversation gets the human race nowhere.

his childhood, his past, is not known to anyone. stories are made of him as if he is the character in a fable, or a tale that has a meaning to take into account in its end. but max recalls his childhood vividly. a childhood full of abuse, fear, and the witnessing of the slaughtering of his mother - and how he had sat by her beheaded corpse, covered in her blood, and shaking with adrenaline. ‘ they say he murdered his family when he was only ten years of age ’ they will whisper through the towns - through continents - but these rumours have never been confirmed, nor have they been denied. for no one has seemingly been brave enough to ask max. nor have they wished to get close enough to him to know such a thing. but max is aware that the fury of a demon had instantly possessed him. he knew himself no longer. his original soul seemed, at once, to take its flight from his body; and a more than fiendish malevolence, thrilled every fibre of his frame.

“ because i wanted to ” hitting him is not what matters when another man, the one that was not punched by max, has been killed through violent stabbing through his skull - splattering his brains onto the ground. and yet here, max sits, cradling his arm that has been torn open. he can see the ligament in his arm. the tendon in his forearm. it’s accessible. vivid now that his arm has been torn open - split apart - during a fight, two men trying to seemingly kill him. one getting away with a punch, the other dead. and he looks to her - willow - the blonde haired, younger woman he has been forced to be in the presence of. and yet often they avoid one another. she is no prize. there is no reward he seeks in her presence. her father, seemingly romanticising her more than max ever could. when he looks at her, he sees but an object. a thing that can speak but can easily be beaten down and eaten. like an animal - a pig or a cow - made for a feast. “ you have a taste for violence, don’t you? ” his voice is calm - eerily so. he mocks her. taunts her when they are together. humiliates her as much as she seems to make it an intention of hers to do so too. “ it seems you only open that hole you call a mouth when it’s to comment on what violence has been committed ”

#idk what era this is but here ya go

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captainkurosolaire · 4 years

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金 LFRP - Captain Kuro Solaire (Updated 5/2/21)

NAME: Captain Kuro Solaire AGE: 37 (Appears 29) - (’Relic Cursed’ Immortal, not Invincible.) RACE: Seeker of the Sun, Miqo’te GENDER: Male SEXUALITY: Gynephilla, Dom MARITAL STATUS: Poly SERVER: Crystal

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE ––––

HAIR: A slick jet black texture, Kuro’s hair is majority of the time unkempt with downward spikes often cascading across sometimes when grown-out it’s placed in a bandana and combed on the sides. Under rare occurrences the length of his hair can be lower then his shoulders and without being straightened leaving a shaggy and feral look. Often sporting an accompanied goatee through more veteran experience and grizzly age has extended that further with a stubble to boot and long sideburns.

EYES: One eye is often left visible with an amber tint. (Typically while the other eye lays remained behind an eye-patch for a particular reason that is usually left in speculation to other onlookers.)

HEIGHT: 6 fulms, 0 ilms.

BUILD: (Trains and adjusts his mass depending on situation or if injured.) Typically built like an ultimate fighter (ref)

DISTINGUISHING MARKS: Scattered scars from a gash hidden underneath a leather collar from his first defeat and near end. To followed historical injuries to dragon claws swiped across his hip to rib nearing his chiseled abs, to lance wounds on his pec, bite-mark from a fanged creature adorned on his shoulder. Scratch marks from passion on his back. To matching fiendish talons shredding the opposing side of his rib-cage. With a gashed-cut draped across his right-eye. Lastly an X incision on his chest crossing over his upper-torso and halting near his shoulders to his pecs. -- Additionally donned the cheek scar of his first that he had cast away due to old insecurity and trauma which was resolved. He’s got a tattoo on his forearm of runic engravings with summoner lettering’s that seem to be serving as a seal. Compass on his left-hand to prevent him losing memories of being a sailor that points in all four-directions. The south-seas etched above crossing over his bicep. Behind his back is a Goldbrand Crest a forgotten ritual that has since been lost among the GB Crew as little carry it left but two-survivors. He’s often shirtless for all to see. (Gives him that unrestricted feeling Miqo’tes like plus has meaning to him.)

COMMON ACCESSORIES: Talisman across his neck that has several link-pearls attached to a string with a condor feather which represents ‘freedom’, the pearls mainly allow him to keep in-contact with crew-mates and a bundle of criminal orientated allies or business associates. A combat satchel attached to his belt that allows him quick accessibility and utility. Owns a signature tricorne hat that is leather matching his often outfit of black leather which serves to highlight his seen mysterious and imposing scoundrel aesthetic.

PERSONAL –––-

PROFESSION: Captain of the Goldbrand, navigation, commanding, claiming panties all over Eorzea and providing pleasure where others need the lesson or reminder. Along with a thief, smuggler, diplomat and a veteran sailor. He’s also a chaser of treasure from old relics to folktales passed on in Legends through very little evidence of the existences but scrolls & charts that he reads and plans out accordingly before attempting his plunder for fortune.

HOBBIES: Drinking, Ocarina, Women, Pleasure, More Pleasure, Even more Pleasure, Entertainment (Former Pleasure Dome worker as a Dancer and Escort.) Juggling, Acrobatics, Jury-rigging, Swimming, Teaching, Training, Mentor, Fighting, Fishing, Brawling, Working out. Exploring. Adventuring. Landing into dangerous situations.

LANGUAGES: Fluent (Mostly) Eorzean, Xaelic, and Hingan, Pirate Tongue. (Working on venturing past his horizon to open trades and communications with beast-tribes for business escapades or other relationships.)

RESIDENCE: Ul’dah

FEARS: None. (Backstory behind that) He’s not immune to psychological attacks and is prone to them.

RELATIONSHIPS –––-

SPOUSES: Failed many.

CHILDREN: Bastard children all around who knows you might be one. He’s often out there being ever the man-whore and shameless about the fact.

PARENTS: Hoku Solaire (Father - Alive) - (PC) Rokeia Solaire (Mother - Deceased giving birth to Kuro Solaire)

SIBLINGS: Unknown but Father was a former Nunh of a branch in the Coeurl Tribe, there’s more room to make some. (Has ancestors in an upcoming arc been polishing.)

OTHER RELATIVES: Many unknown. Though Sol Akagane / Founding GB Captain Gark would be considered along with his OG Crew as Family in a more surrogate / adoption style way. Wild Crew.

PETS: Which kind you wondering?

TRAITS –––-

extroverted / introverted / in between

disorganized / organized / in between

close minded / open-minded / in between

calm / anxious / in between

disagreeable / agreeable / in between

cautious / reckless / in between

patient / impatient / in between

outspoken / reserved / in between

leader / follower / in between

empathetic / unemphatic / in between

optimistic / pessimistic / in between

traditional / modern / in between

hard-working / lazy / in between

cultured / un-cultured / in between

loyal / disloyal / in between

faithful / unfaithful / in between

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION –––-

SMOKING HABIT: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

DRUGS: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

ALCOHOL: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

@mooglemeet @crystal-rp-ffxiv @balmungrp @ffxiv-crystal-rp @balmungroleplayers-blog

HOOKS + OOCLY, I AM –––– (Below cut)

HOOKS –––-

◘ Mystical Journey - Meet Captain who’s rebuilding towards something on a scale higher than the skies that’s far beyond himself. Whether friendships forged, romantic, rival, or outright enemy. Open to plot about just anything whether one-shot, or slice of life. Each confrontation and connection is impactful and holds weight that determines and shapes him, his source of power by himself is extremely low but the wind and orbit of who he’s surrounded swells and creates upon him alongside them or with that fact, he may overcame the impossible multiple times, even his goal of deemed ultimus. He’s lustful, prideful, sinful. Though there’s good in his scoundrel ways and also freely can be interpreted as evil against the pure heart. From descendants to nearly wherever sea’s may touch he can be found voyaging too or from. Depending on the City-State there’s more mystery surrounding him due to him trying to remain under the radar but he’s also pretty brash, open, which can net him in infinite chaos and trouble. This dark and often cursed seemingly lifestyle he’s thrown under sometimes he also needs to be in the company of innocent and light, peaceful individuals. To remain humane and stay on track of him straying from being the problem. Many lives have died under his company, many lessons and time’s he’s ‘wrecked’’ the smallest and few encounters overall tally and aid him with building his compassionate side to see those people again. ◘ Scourges - The worst of the worst pirate crew’s. They command various levels of commandment, control, conquering all that is blue and water-bound. Each hold their own vendetta and thoughts on what being a pirate or their own treasure ‘sake’ they wish to lay ownership. Ongoing and tackling these threats with Captain holds mighty risk. (Subject to your comfort) In this case it can result in injuries, mental trauma, or many afflictions that may provide more experience to your character or layers. - There are no clear solutions on how to defeat, overcome, or maybe it’s just an encounter with a band of Crewmates from the varying Crews, that’ll overall build steps closer to final battles or all-out Warfare or cripple these Crew’s to make him able to defeat them with his Wild Crew. ◘ Ulterior - (Mystery/+18Dark ) - A cultist crew held from marshy swamped seas, polluted and tainted. They blur webs of confusion alongside deceit. Operating in the blends of guises that shadowy walk in public crowds they don’t distinguish themselves. The pressure of this arc will be dark, twisted, and every foreboding, never certain what’s reality. Vastly in concern, they’ve begun becoming more bold and manipulating brave pirate’s, adventures, would-be sea goers who get reported missing soon afterwards. Only to be converted and abducted into this Cultist crew as nearly every encounter with them as they eat and feast off your fears turn’s their targets into belief of a high power, a mad god under all fleshing skin. Visited during nightmares. ◘ OMONGA - (Bloody/Violent +18 Extremely Dark) - This Scourge crew is one of the most dangerous altogether. They’re primitive freaks, viking pirates of sorts. Who outright raid, pillage, slaughter anything that moves approaching their territory. A force unlike any other, a dominating and deathly, blight of a Giant who strike’s fear just mentioned by pirate’s of old, stays clear from him and often plays nice to prevent gaining his wrath or detection, better to submit. YORE of the Gorey Seas is their Captain who destructively holds gatekeeper and one force that Maelstrom even cannot overcome their brute waters as they stay stationary and defensive, he’s not too mobile beyond his ‘Nation’ but his crew are savages and they operate like the fiercest warmongers, also they’ve got berserkers. Used to be known wanted but after many bounty hunters and foolish adventurers tried taking his life and the failures stacked up, using the defeated and weak for soil for harvesting their crops, and even their own fleets could bypass their engineering he remained untouchable. Sort of a necessary bridge from one individual owning all the seas altogether. They’ve a whole hierarchy, torture system, culture, that is ultra barbaric. He’ll need additional power to help him have a chance to survive and maintain more importantly the lives of his Crew. This is his last chance to get it all right. (There’s more too but I’ll save them unless asked or somehow the other’s become dealt with or too full.) ◘ Wanted: Deadman - (Suspenseful / Thriller / Mystery) - Recently Captain had resurfaced from death making advancements and pursuits only identifiable as his motives. Maelstrom and other officials, detectives, could be working alongside a set of Law characters that I’ve created also trying to seize and capture him for not just a hefty bounty it’s an instant hanging to death and gallows if he’s caught this time. Or a huge payout. He’s stacked multiplied crimes of indecencies, broken peace, slandered Maelstrom, stolen, scammed, rebelled for Freedom, liberated and uncovered crimes against city-state laws, he’s an outright menace to society. Though Captain and his Crew are crafty and now alongside his First Crewmate are covering his tracks desperately to prevent him from being heard again. Though if Captain succeeds in claiming or ‘Goldbrand’’ regains recognition and infamy again over the high-seas whether by gaining influence, relics, or defeating Scourges and creating more noise. He’ll be even more on the run. His Crew are accessories so capturing them may be enough to draw him out or still provide information and payouts. If he’s noted to still be breathing a full on world bounty can be placed to only increase the odds stacked against his time. (Also wanted by Voidals and anything relating to a Scourge. His enemies are highly stacked but he’s got some incredible reach and allies, people he genuinely loves and cannot be anything without them.) ◘ Isle RP - (High Fantasy / Evolving) - Various Isle’s can be visited, linked and tether to a Crewmate’s personal quest. Or maybe Fables. Each Isle has its own unique dangers and is creatively open to any adapting once the base concept is thought out. I have multiple in mind. Some of them have treasures, others have temporary treasures once the threat on each Isle is dealt with the treasure may be spent. Those things might be non useful, so the experience and journey alone may be the only reward. Or surviving and wreckage etc can also occur, it's all open to free-form.

◘ Relic Hunt - (High Fantasy / Evolving ) - (Reference) - Captain’s crew and trade is being a professional treasure hunter diver. Searching and uncovering ancient tablets and thing’s long forgotten past time itself from allagan, mhachi, amdapori and other mythological natures. From Voidal Relics to the series of Deity Relic’s there remains ruins and dungeons, trials, labyrinths, that possess unique items with governed power imbued from primals, high aetherial beings, or prototypes to strange works of magic and science. Depending on the Relic often determines how desperately Captain seeks to net it under his awareness than allow another to uncover as rival band’s of Scourges and pirate crew also would chase for such and want to use it for dominion and nefarious reasonings. Sometimes they’ll already possess said Relic’s and be threats to battle for the property. Which in that case it’s plundering.time. Depending what Relic is conversed around it could be difficult puzzles, or trials, or something more tame to fetch. If another Historian or someone he believes would preserve the item, safer than within his stead, he’ll only aid in retrieving and less on acquiring. Better the relic stay’s far from his lurking dangers that already pursue his waters.

◘ Crew / No Crew - (Optional Addon) - Can choose whether you wish me to RP the other Crewmates and have them interact with your character / characters or bring multi-muses too. Each Crewmate or the main 13 have their own quests, narratives, their own motives of why they’re even following Captain, but they can betray, be broken, all them will act very realistic and lifelike, so they can be romanced etc too. Captain would go to world’s end for them. Make no mistake, this is his Last Crew and shot, he’s on the thinnest surface of water. Soon the mightiest tides will crash and collide against him and his Worldly Finder, his ship, if he’s unable to reign them or lead them to aid their own morale's then he’ll have no chance in getting to the end of his own quest, goal. Each scourge, relic, everything is an obstacle and aiming for something grand.

Alternatively, I can just RP Captain himself and vaguely mention anything else regarding. Might also gain allies, other crewmates, other things that’ll play parts depending on the arc.

Writing is my lifeblood I enjoy stories.

Overly chill and outspoken along with communication my prime focus. I human so I break down and have to recuperate my energy and health sometimes. Not into drama outside RP.

I Para-RP but do nearly ever format and style.

I’m open to plot within any genre.

24/7 Nerd. +18 year RP experience all around from LARPing, Dungeon Master / Former event runner / Former Owner / Leader for Discords and Linkshells / Tabletop Creator. There’s nothing I cannot do.

I’m CST. Though chronic-deteriorating health makes my hours rando. I prefer Discord RP. (Tumblr too sometimes if have an idea.) In-game I can be swayed. ◘ ~ This all long but trying to be communicative and thorough upfront. A necessary evil, I fear.

YOU CAN CONTACT ME VIA ––

Twitter - Captain Kuro Solaire

Tumblr - I try to follow everyone in FFXIV Community so should be able to DM me.

Discord: Kuro Solaire#0508

Ref Sheet

+18 F-list

#LFRP #Balmung #Crystal #Captain Kuro Solaire #Final Fantasy XIV #Writer #FFXIV #If want to rehash HMU

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rockysavannah · 4 years

Note

Jirou herself didn't know if she should do something for the fact it was Mother's day. Then again, given Videl was... well... spoiling her like a daughter, the hefty girl had attempted to do something. So she had waddled into the room, bloated and stuffed after an immense meal and attempted to sing a little song she had written. However, all that happened was the girl belching and farting up a storm, heating up the room they were in with smelly and hot gasses.

Over the past couple of months, Videl had come to really value Jiro, seeing a bit of herself in the massive musician, namely the tomboyishness and desire to help others. Videl felt somewhat guilty that her coddling was partially responsible for Jiro’s decision to drop out of U.A. on the cusp of graduation and forgo her old dream of being a hero, in favor of moving in with Videl and—for lack of a better term—mooching off of the housewife. Videl had first met Jiro at an Italian restaurant where the former bore witness to the latter single-handedly devouring a large pizza, with an idle belch and a proud pat on her packed paunch to punctuate her meal. While exposure to her own alien family’s ravenous appetites had desensitized Videl to such an otherwise impressive feat of gluttony, the daughter of Mr. Satan was still intrigued by the rotund rocker’s hunger.

Acting on this intrigue, Videl later prepared a platter of spicy tacos and a gallon of milk for Jiro and subsequently nursed the young hero’s swollen tummy, coaxing noxious burps and farts out of her. It was then that Videl began developing protective feelings for Jiro, though whether those emotions were either strictly romantic or motherly, or maybe even a bit of both, was a mystery to the two women. On top of that, Videl learned about Jiro partnership with her fellow classmate, Momo, and didn’t want to put that at risk. Still, Videl wanted to impress Jiro somehow, and she decided to do it by stripping nude and flexing her chiseled musculature for the quirk-user, whose stammering indicated a mutual attraction to her.

Apparently Jiro didn’t mind being in a relationship with two different women, considering her nonchalant reaction to Videl kissing her large gut as a sign of appreciation for the student’s weight. And thus, Videl and Jiro’s dynamic of feeder and feedee, respectively, was formalized, with Videl using her father’s money and staff to serve Jiro the finest gourmet dishes, as well as whipping up several-course-feasts of her own homecooked meals. However, Jiro’s palette wasn’t the most sophisticated, and she was just as content filling her tummy with scores of fast food confections such as pizzas, burritos, pastas, and submarine sandwiches, to which Videl was more than willing to comply.

One time, Videl sought to test the limits of her jiggly GF’s appetite by having her own mother-in-law craft a banquet designed to sate their otherworldly spouses. A bit of juvenile teasing on Videl’s part goaded Jiro into bare-handedly assaulting the mountain of Mount Paozu delicacies, crumbs, sauces, and beverages littering the hefty hero’s clothing and sipping into the folds of her fat. A tired, yet triumphant, eructation heralded Jiro’s domination of the Super Saiyan-sized smörgåsbord, her stomach reddened from the pressure of housing such a bounty of nutrition and slick with grease and sweat as it kicked into overdrive in an attempt to digest the massive meal.

Seeing Jiro’s unfettered ferocity for forcing food down her gullet filled Videl with feelings of lust and maternity; lust for the unbridled and unabashed manner in which Jiro conquered her fiendish feast, and maternity at how Jiro was now dependent on her to ease her post-meal tummy ache. Needless to say, Videl spent hours massaging Jiro’s burdened balloon belly as recompense for coercing her into devouring the feast, a symphony of gut gurgling, flatulence, and eructation echoing throughout the Son Family household. Jiro’s helpless cooing as she felt Videl’s strong, yet tender, hands nurse her overtaxed abdomen only heightened Videl’s matriarchal nature, being reminded of her own daughter’s whines whenever she was in discomfort. Seeking to ease Jiro’s pain even more, Videl planted a plethora of kisses all over the feedee’s gut, as well as her face, the housewife assuring Jiro that she’d give the student as much nurturing as possible, to which, Jiro ripped a humid belch in agreement.

As the days went by, Jiro grew more lethargic in addition to growing in weight, to the point where just dancing would leave her a gassy, wheezing wreck. Her muscles, once invigorated by exercise and hero work, had atrophied and given way to still more adipose, the punk gal spending her day sitting around, watching TV, listening to music, playing games, and of course stuffing her face. Videl believed that Jiro could weaponize her slovenly habits to aid in her quest to become a hero, such as by fighting villains with her burps and farts, or just by sitting on them, or maybe even teaching her how to use ki. Videl had heard that her own grandmother-in-law was doing something similar with a Muisca woman, so perhaps they should all meet up at some point and have a gross, wholesome, and sexy family bonding time. Alas, despite Videl even offering to share her own experience as a superheroine with the plump pampered rocker, Jiro seemed to have disregarded that line of work completely now.

Hell, even her prior desire to be a musician was barely spared a thought, with the doughy dame ditching her old strings and keys. Her tummy acted as two instruments, with its gurgles reaching lower octaves than her bass guitar ever could, as well as Jiro simply banging her like a drum. Her booty also pulled double duty, with Jiro playing her rotund rump like a pair of bongos to fill out the percussion niche along with her gut, plus her cheeks striking together like cymbals whenever she ripped ass. For the vocals, Jiro had garnered the practice needed to belch out the lyrics to her loudly enough to echo from the edge of any venue, no microphones, amplifiers, or subwoofers required—in fact, her audience would certainly be deafened if they were used. Should Jiro be onstage, or more realistically, in her recording booth/dining area—as if every room in Videl’s house wasn’t already a dining area—then her state as a gassy slob would allow her to rock out in a way that no musician ever has before, or would likely want to.

So, here they were, Videl waiting on Jiro hand and foot while Jiro ate, burped, and farted her way around the house and into Videl’s heart. The wife of Son Gohan noted that today was Mother’s Day and wanted to pay her Stand-wielding Futa Milf girlfriend a visit. However, she was surprised to see an engorged Jiro toddle into the living room, one hand holding a sheet of musical notation and another rhythmically tapping her tummy. Everything about this pointed toward the former-hero-in-training wishing to play a song for her maternal figure in honor of the holiday, and Videl was touched enough to oblige her. Although, the heartwarming gesture was instantly undercut by a storm of eruptive eructations and flaring flatulence blasting out of Jiro. A moist peridot fog reeking of digesting meat, beans, dairy, and carbonated drinks polluted the room, just translucent enough for Videl to make out objects in her intermediate line of sight, like the thermometer on the wall currently climbing to sweltering temperatures.

In spite of the grotesque display occurring before her, Videl couldn’t help but giggle at her lover/surrogate daughter’s gas, being reminded of the time the semi-retired rocker burped out the lyrics to her songs during a public concert after drinking too much soda. Back when Videl and Jiro were little more than strangers, the former Junior World Martial Arts champion watched Jiro’s belching ballad on TV and nearly fell out of her chair in laughter. When the quirk-wielder’s gaseous reprise reached it conclusion, Videl managed to compose herself and wrapped her strong, yet tender, arms around the corpulent form of her blushing romantic partner.

“Jiro, you should know that I was laughing with you rather than at you. There’s no need for you to be embarrassed. I’m proud to be together with you and I’ll always love you, whether or not you’re a musician, hero, slob, or any combination of the three.”

#Asks #Old Asks #nevermindtheweights #Muse: Son Videl #Sfw

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thegreatnyehehe · 5 years

Text

Unhappy Pilgrim’s Bounty, mortal fools!!

Well, mortal fools, it’s time for that foolishly feastful time of year, Pilgrim’s Bounty!! It’s a half-witted holiday not only about stuffing one’s stupid face with all the vittles and vixens of the harvest season and all the glories of gluttony, but also being with one’s family and being thankful for what one has!!

Well, The Great Nyehehe says ‘Bah’ to that!! Family is so frivolous and foolish anyway, who needs it!?! Certainly not The Great Nyehehe!! And when it comes to being thankful? Bah!! What does The Great Nyehehe need to be thankful for? Certianly nothing, not when he still hasn’t conquered the universe as he so clearly deserves!!

Despite that, The Great Nyehehe is at this gumptious grocery store to have his own go at your half-witted holiday. And he’ll make it a nyehehillion times more villainous than your pitiful Pilgrim’s Bounty!!

Now, let’s see... first on the list is... the sides!! Stuffing, mashed potatoes, candied yams, and cranberry sauce!! How... boring. The Great Nyehehe shall scheme up his own malicious side-meals!! Nyehehe!!

Who needs stuffing when you have... er... stuff!?! Is it edible? Who knows!?!

What’s the point in mashed potatoes when you have the vastly superior variety of vegetables instead, such as these ow-ful onions and garlic!! The Great Nyehehe would cry over the majesty of these most proud of produce, if he wasn’t as pathetic as you mortal fools to be able to cry, that is!! Which he isn’t!!

Candied yams, schmandied schmams!! Black licorice is clearly the crowning candy, so bittersweet as it is!! Emphasis on the bitter!! Nyehehe!!

Who could ever prefer cranberry sauce when you have snozberry sauce? The Great Nyehehe only wishes he knew what snozberries actually were!!

Ah, all the sides are good and ready!! Now... the crowning creme of the crop!! The head honcho of big cheeses!! The... most important thing!!

The turkey, of course!!

But The Great Nyehehe is no so pitiful as to bother with some foolish foul as a main dish!! Nyet, instead, he shall serve a much more bothersome bird!!

Mortal fool, The Great Nyehehe wants you to slice up, season, and steam up this bird!! No questions asked, lest you don’t mind to see yourself obliterated by The Great Nyehehe!!

“Eh? *Squaa-?& What was that, sonny? My old feathers are gettin’ in the way of my earwhole again.”

“Okay.”

Now, for the dessert, the most common dish is pumpkin pie, for whatever reason!! Luckily, The Great Nyehehe already has this pumpkin pie from last year!! Nyehehe!! How fiendishly frugal!!

“M’Lord, please!! I, The Great Pumpking, has suffered long since I arisen!! As I decay, I beg, I plead! Release me from this once-sweet, expired prison!!

My crust corrodes, my ala mode hath melted, my filling greenly does blend!! This testing torture I’ve endured since two years last Hallow’s End!!

And so, Nyehehe The Great, though an inferior foe of mine you were, Do this favor and destroy me and this daunting dessert if need be, I wouldn’t deter!!”

Er... Nyet. The Great Nyehehe needs his feast to be perfect, and that includes having a dastardly dessert!!

And now, mortal fools, behold as The Great Nyehehe commits one of the most heinous acts he’s ever committed...

Going on a 6 item lane with 7 items!! Nyehehe!! How defiantly dastardly!!

“Ok, that’ll be 40 gold, man.”

Oh, right!! The Great Nyehehe forgot he doesn’t own any of your mortal currency. None whatsoever. Just hasn’t bother with it.

...

“Hey!”

“Nyehehe!! Finally, The Great Nyehehe’s fiendish feast that is vastly superior to any mortal fool’s is complete!! How’s that for a pilgrim’s bounty, nyeh!?!

...

“Oh, right. The Great Nyehehe doesn’t have any friend or family to share it with.”

“*Squaaa-* Have you seen my dentures, sonny boy? *Craaaw*”

#holiday #pilgrim's bounty #grocery store

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avegetariancannibal · 6 years

Text

“Pampered Chef”

Some Hannibal AU crack commissioned for @nephila-clavipes from @avidreadr2004

Will waited in Jack Crawford's office, wishing he were anywhere else. He'd canceled a perfectly boring lecture to hear about whatever new case had come up. Worst of all, Brian Zeller was waiting with him and showing him prank videos on his phone.

"Watch---this guy's about to get scared by a donkey in his house---wait for it---"

"You just gave away the surprise," Will said. "There's no incentive to keep watching now."

Brian looked taken aback. "Dude, there's a donkey!"

Finally, Jack showed up with Alana Bloom in tow. She saw Brian and gave Will an apologetic look.

"I believe a new serial killer is in town," Jack said as he sat down. "Three suspicious deaths in Roland Park. Many of their organs---heart, kidneys---were taken."

Brian whistled. "Nice neighborhood."

"That's what caught your attention?" Will asked.

Brian blinked at him. "What?"

"I want Will and Brian to pose as husbands," Jack said. "Get to know the neighbors, feel around to see if anyone seems suspicious."

"Wouldn't it make more sense for Beverly Katz to pose as my spouse?" Will asked.

Brian huffed. "Don't be so heteronormative, Will."

Will rolled his eyes. "I don't care that you're a man. I care that I can't stand you. Everyone will know we're not really married."

"Actually," Alana started, "all the victims so far have been in unhappy marriages."

Brian batted his lashes at Will in exaggerated fashion. "I can't wait to be unhappily married to you, dear."

***

Their introduction to Roland Park would come in the form of a Pampered Chef party hosted by Alana's friend and former mentor who lived in the neighborhood. Hannibal Lecter had been a surgeon, then a psychiatrist, and now sold kitchen gadgets to well-off suburbanites. He was also incredibly handsome. Will was rendered a little awkward by just how handsome he was.

"Pleased to meet you," Hannibal said. Brian thrust his hand out, but Hannibal was returning Will's stare intently. Will blinked and glanced away. "Not fond of eye contact, are you?"

Will was about to make some excuse when Alana interrupted to explain their roles for the evening.

"You two are Hannibal's friends who are thinking about buying the house next door," Alana said. "That way, nobody will think it's odd for you to be asking questions, even slightly nosy ones. Hannibal, you just go about whatever you normally do as host, and give Will any background on the guests he needs."

Hannibal rubbed his hands together. "Exciting to be peeking behind the curtain. I've always been curious how the FBI goes about its business when it's not kicking in doors."

Will would've liked to stick closer to Hannibal, but the guests started arriving. He adjusted his glasses and steeled himself for the socializing that would be required of him.

***

Everyone seemed like a potential murderer.

There was Bedelia Du Maurier who seemed to take almost fiendish delight in flattening a Cornish game hen between two polypropylene cutting boards. (A steal at $19 each!) There was Tobias Budge who kept making orchestra references that somehow weirdly sounded like jokes about gutting people. There was an old colleague of Hannibal's named Abel Gideon who kept asking which Pampered Chef tools could be used to kill his family, and instead of being horrified, everyone laughed!

Perhaps the real mystery, though, was why all these obviously wealthy people came on a regular basis to an obviously even wealthier man's house to buy microwave popcorn bowls and plastic herb choppers.

"Are these things even any good?" Will wondered aloud as he picked up an apple wedger.

A woman dressed like a flapper laughed. "I haven't the faintest idea, my dear! I just keep buying them so Hannibal keeps inviting me to his feasts!"

While everyone nibbled on canapes, Hannibal took Will aside. "Anyone seem suspicious yet?"

"Just about everyone," Will admitted. "Well, not the flapper lady. She just seems eccentric."

"Mrs. Komeda knows everything about everyone," Hannibal said. "You should talk to her. She has her teeth into the entire neighborhood. So, are you married in real life?"

Will was taken off guard by the sudden change in topic. "Uh... no. That's just for the undercover thing." He glanced around to make sure nobody was nearby. "I would never be married to Brian in real life."

Hannibal leaned in closer. "Because he's a man?"

"Because I can't stand him," Will whispered back.

Hannibal seemed to think about that for a while, but then before he could respond, Mrs. Komeda came swooping in and took him by the arm.

"Darling, what about the cooking demo you've been promising us?" she asked, her tone playfully scolding.

Hannibal nodded towards Will. "If you'll excuse me, perhaps we could continue this chat later?"

Will nodded with enthusiasm. "Of course!"

Hannibal led everyone into his expansive kitchen and began pulling out pieces from what he swore was the best six-piece, non-stick cookware set money could buy.

"Can you still get a good sear with it?" one of the guests asked. "I have a non-stick pan at home and the meat always comes out gray."

"The trick is to ensure the pan is thoroughly heated before placing the meat," Hannibal said. He rolled up his sleeves, exposing lean but well-muscled forearms. "Allow me to demonstrate---Oh, but first! I want to thank everyone for coming to last month's Pampered Chef party. Thanks to your purchases, I was awarded a new ice cream sandwich maker, which I will be demonstrating later for dessert."

Polite applause and cheers of congratulations went up among the gathering.

Hannibal bowed graciously. "Now, back to the meat!"

Brian sidled up to Will and leaned in to whisper something. "Alana's buddy there is our killer."

Will glared at him. "And here I thought I couldn't possibly dislike you more. Why would you even say that?"

"Just watch, would you?" Brian said, and nodded toward the kitchen island.

As everyone watched, Hannibal whipped out a santoku knife, a frying pan... and something that sure as hell looked like a human heart.

Will sighed. "Damn it."

***

He waited until everyone had left the party before confronting Hannibal in the kitchen.

"Oh, Will!" Hannibal beamed at him. "I'm glad you stayed. I was hoping we'd get a chance to resume our conversation. Where's Brian?"

"Outside calling the police," Will said.

"Does that mean you've found your culprit?" Hannibal asked.

Will ignored the question. "You know what's messed up? I was almost more upset at the idea of Brian being right, than at Alana's hot friend for being a murderer."

Hannibal reached for a knife just as Will reached for his gun.

Hannibal held up his hands. "I was just going to wash it---wait. Am I the hot friend in question? You think I'm hot?"

Will scoffed. "You know you're hot! Don't act shy and don't act like you're not a murderer!"

Behind him, a woman shrieked---not in fear, but in obvious, incandescent rage. "How dare you! How dare you!"

He glanced back just in time to see Mrs. Komeda leap at him like a well-dressed spider monkey, her face a mask of perfect fury. She tackled him to the ground. Suddenly there was a tomato knife in her hand, its economical blade glinting in the light. Will threw her off.

She rolled away but bounced back into a fighting crouch. Her eyes narrowed into hateful slits. "I will not let you take Hannibal's feasts away from me! I did away with all the others who tried to get the Home Owner's Association to shut down his Pampered Chef parties! Too 'low class' for the neighborhood, they said. They were jealous of his cooking!"

It was a lot to process. The FBI had thought an unhappy marriage was the link, but perhaps such a thing was just so damned common that all her victims shared that trait.

"Mrs. Komeda, put the tomato knife down," Hannibal said. "You're bringing shame to the good name of Pampered Chef."

She screamed again and lunged towards Will.

Hannibal, in a move as graceful as it was athletic, vaulted over the kitchen island and landed between Mrs. Komeda and Will. He caught her by the hand and flicked the knife out of her grasp. In an instant, he had whipped off his apron and used it to tie her wrists together. Will had never seen anything sexier in his whole damned life.

Just then, Jack Crawford barged into the kitchen, gun at the ready. "Hannibal Lecter, you're under arr---"

"Jack, it's not him," Will said. "It's the flapper."

Jack paused without lowering his gun. He looked back and forth between Mrs. Komeda and Hannibal, then at Will. "What in the hell?"

Mrs. Komeda burst into tears. "I-I just wanted... I just wanted h-his c-cooking!" The words were nearly lost in her uncontrollable sobs.

Will watched as Jack replaced the apron with handcuffs and led a still-weeping Mrs. Komeda out to a patrol car. There was still the question of how Hannibal, a former surgeon, wouldn't have recognized human organs when Mrs. Komeda presented them to him. He might've been in on it. He was probably in on it. Will couldn't delude himself otherwise. He made up his mind to tell Jack about it.

Hannibal came up beside him. "You never answered me, you know. You think I'm hot?"

Will blinked and turned to look up at him. He found bourbon-colored eyes gazing back at him from under a fringe of fight-tousled hair. He smiled against his better judgment. "Yeah," he said. "I think you're hot."

He could always tell Jack later.

(end)

#hannigram #hannibal #hannibal crack #my fic

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aria-blazin-it · 5 years

Photo

+They call me the Mother of Darkness but what is a mother to a child if not a god. Believe it or not, I love this world. In fact, I dedicated my life to this world once upon a time. I took a vow and swore my life away all those years ago but as time passed I saw the flaws of this god. A living god who walks among us claiming to love us, claiming to be wholly good and does everything for us. Then why is there suffering? Why is there pain? It is because of her light this darkness exists in the first place. The same darkness that claimed me.

I give mercy to the sick, food for the hungry and hope for the meek. I bring new life to dying lands and work for restless. All I ask is for adoration in return. No gaudy temples, no tributes or alms.

Unlike her, I truly feel love for my children. I provide and care for them; like a mother truly should.

+I remember the day I let the devil in my court, a foreign noble with treasures unseen, treasures she offered in exchange for my audience. She spun her words in a way I couldn't resist, an offer I could not refuse. Money and power, to rule my land proper, for my people to know prosperity once more. It was no secret my family's blood was weak, our coffers were running dry and own land grew little more than weeds. The fiendish nobles in my court circled like vultures, waiting to take a bite from my corpse. To tear this castle right from under my feet and to destroy the legacy I maintained. I played the lord and lady and as entertaining and novel as it was, everyone soon grew bored of my shenanigans. A choice had to be made, and this woman was to be my savior. Though now I know the price at which it came.

Every full moon it is the same; The aches and pains, the fever and lust that overtakes me, body and mind. The madding violence that drives my body to crave more, how my heart beats harder at the thought of slaughter and to gorge myself on such sin. My court of nobles, now ghouls who live only to sate the same hunger and sadist yearnings. Though I suppose that has not changed, only now it is not hidden behind closed doors. Their emaciated and disgusting bodies, how they revel in the horrors they have become. As the moon fills they circle me and chant, chant for me to lead them.

“Howl my Lord!” “Sate your thirst, my Lady!” “Lead us to the feast!”

They all jeer but through it all, I can still hear her words.

“You wouldn't be as ugly if you just let it take you. How beautiful you could be.” “How many moons need to pass before you give in?” “Be my beast of blood, my hound of hell and lead your court to the hunt.”

No matter how many times I wish to strike her, to use my sadist whims against her... but I cannot! My heart is filled with such love for her but in my mind I know do not, the boiling blood in my veins cooled by the mere sight of those hellish eyes. My skin yearns for her touch and for her lips to graze my own. The beast loves this devil and I can not resist, now my kingdom pays for my weakness. My grand castle lays on the feted rot of my mistakes. The scathing paintings of my predecessors judge me as I walk shamefully through these once glorious halls. So now I wait with my arms welcoming and the gates open waiting for the day of my death. For a hero to emerge but this tainted land has borne no heroes, only the meek that grovel in the shadow of this monster I have become.

+ I remember the first night, I never heard a more beautiful voice in my life, to see her grace me with her presence as I laid in the mud; starved and scared. I was being hunted by the villagers, I was to blame and others like me for the drought. For the locus that had come. For the death that swept across the land and it was in our death that all would be right again. I remember she offered her pristine hand to me and a smile that made me weep. She promised she would give a chance to find who I was. Chance for a real purpose and not just a victim. I took her hand and she took me away from all this.

She said I was special. That I did not need her dark gift. That humans had something that no vampire or any creature had. It was more than bloodlust or ambition, something greater then instinct. It made humans far more dangerous than any animal. A will to overcome, a drive that stems from our very nature, to defy the odds and to become more. For twenty years I trained and pushed harder to become more than any human. Every time Death came to claim me, I refused. I had no fear and I felt no pain; all I felt was true love for the one who gave me purpose. I am her eyes, her hands the very extension of her will. I stand vigilant during the day, eager to see her when the sun sets and to feel her touch. I am now the one to be feared as they sit scared in their homes. As they pray for this darkness to end but no one will hear them. Even if someone does come, it doesn't matter because I am here.

I am the one that hunts the hunters.

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

Happy Halloween? Believe me I tried to get this out as fast as I could, but I didnt want something half assed. Had this idea for a whole year but couldnt really bring it out until now. Truly realized or whatever.

#Aria Blaze #adagio dazzle #Sonata Dusk #vampire #monster #halloween

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surprisesutra · 2 years

Text

Best of Christmas Decorations

Observe Christmas on a high

All in all, how can you praise the chilling winters and the bubbly season? Could it be said that you are going out or would you say you are remaining at home or would you say you are facilitating your own get-together? On the off chance that you are, then, at that point, I have bunches of ideas for you. Christmas is one of the propitious events and you would rather not sit inactive around it and watching it go like some other day. Here are some Christmas design Ideas

The Classic Red and White

To put a great deal of figured, then, at that point, do recollect that Santa dons red and the snow is white. Adorn your home in the topic of red &white and investigate the Christmas flows around your home while you wear a Santa outfit. While feasting, the red gingham napkins, white decorative liner, and several modern or vintage red lights will likewise make a sweet setting to your Christmas designs.

The Good and Evil

On the off chance that you're facilitating a get-together at your place, then, at that point, you can decide on a subject showing the great and the terrible. Finish your list if people to attend and separate them into the group of good and fiendish Santa. It will give your party a one of a kind look and keeping in mind that your place will resemble a blend of the two universes.

The Ornamented Beauty

All things considered, there's likewise one simple method for adding stature to your Christmas celebration designs. Have a go at utilizing your current light installations of your place. It will offer you a reprieve out of additional work and saves your enhancing time as the hang-capacity is dealt with. Trimmings, festoon, plant life hung, Christmas accessories on your lighting installations all through your home is a fun, straightforward, and merry method for beautifying for your party. What's less difficult than this Christmas enhancements?

Hang it high!

Praise a party that speaks 'Happy holidays' from each corner. Gather photograph props, X-Mas tree, Santa and mythical people outfits, lights and parts more. Truth be told, incorporate the plum cake and surprisingly the mixed drinks of Christmas. Start the thoughts of Christmas embellishments that will be recalled by everybody.

Keep it Peaceful

It's for the ones who try to avoid the buzzing about or the group. Accumulate your extraordinary ones and keeping in mind that you set up a Christmas tree, fill your table with amazing Christmas delights and play the round of Secret Santa with your friends and family. You will commend the calm yet glad Christmas.

Anyway, how are your Christmas enhancements going?

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vicecityhq · 2 years

Photo

██████████████]99% LOADING...SUSPECT INTO THE APD DATABASE...

WITNESS(ES) SAY HE REMINDS THEM OF: candles burned to the wick, night forests blanketed in mist, piled papers inked with ancient writing . With a slight resemblance to XIAO ZHAN of/the ACTOR.

CLICK BELOW TO VIEW ENTIRE FILE.

FULL FILE:

last name, first name: zhang rowan alias: malice realm of birth (if earth, nationality): earth-born, europe age: appears 30 (decelerated aging, actually 200+) date of birth: november 13, 1865 gender: how they identify themselves. non-conforming (amab) preferred pronouns: he/him species: necromancer/demon (physical) occupation: nightbloods (hitman) sexual orientation: pansex/rom

VISUAL FILE:

skin color: on the pale side, but natural eye color: wine red scars: shallow knife scar that runs diagonally across his back piercings: none tattoos: ‘symbol of death’ behind ears, tally-marks on each hand extended from fingertip to forearms hair color: black abnormalities: none horns/ wings/ etc: manifests black, shadow-esque wings that are intangible but functional transformed form: none

PERSONAL FILE:

religious belief: atheist

SINS: greed / gluttony / sloth / lust / pride / envy / wrath

VIRTUES: chastity / charity / diligence / humility / kindness / patience / justice

KNOWN LANGUAGES: mandarin, korean, english, latin

SECRETS: orphaned from birth (doesn’t talk about family at all or his past in europe)

SAVVIES: chess, blacksmith, sculpting, archery/hunting

Powers & Abilities: weapon creation / wing manifestation / darkness manipulation / semi-immortality / conjuration / soul manipulation / blood manipulation /death magic / teleportation /telekinesis

Traits: cultured but compulsive

BACKGROUND CHECK:

Date of Birth: november 13th, 1865

Date of Death: N/A

Crime Record: in the human realm, rowan avoids authority. that doesn’t mean they avoid him, believing he has done many bad things. the only problem is they’ve never been able to prove it. rowan taunts them sometimes, but is otherwise untouchable.

Background/Biography:

(contains loose ties of the ‘jack the ripper’ lore) the back-end streets of 19th century europe were mixed with those of all races. such was the workings of the red light district, a place not unfamiliar no matter the realm or race. it crawled with sin, bred misery. tales told that one born to a harlot would never leave the dilapidated recesses of the red light district, bound to be feasted on the evils that lurk there. what no one ever considered was the potential of the district, festering with wickedness, could breed a monster. the alleys enticed a demon, sentient yet no less fiendish, who quickly fell into the allure of lust with a necromancer who had been passing through the city, fresh off the ferry from the china mainland. she had been searching for an opioid parlor, and when flecked-red met pitch black, embers flew. but this was no tale of star-crossed lovers, or of romance; this was pure and unbridled lust, a powerplay of sorts. tango of darkness; and from that rowan zhang was born.

rowan became an orphan the moment he left his mother’s womb. the only thing he had left of her was his name; and of his father, the notion that he was a hell-dweller. subsequently born in the red light district, rowan was stuck like every other child raised in the pits. he saw many things; many dark, terrible things no child should ever have to witness. but these things were nothing compared to the dark things happening within him. as he grew older- in mind rather than appearance-rowan came to realize he was different. certainly not unique, but a different in that he had a particular craving to understand vitality. a person’s soul, their heart, their very being; just what made them tick? he wondered. and so rowan came to research the only way he knew how; necromancy. he blurred the line between the good and evil of his abilities, tainted by his half-hellish self. his only call to morality was that he never targeted the innocent; not the piteous woman nor the child. only those who had offended him, or mistreated one of the people he’d taken under his wing as a long-time resident of the red-light district. and they were every unassuming, poor fools. lured by his bright eyes and sweet smile, only to be swallowed by his blood-curdling anger, that same smile imprinted in their petrified expressions, even when they roamed as living corpses.

for years, rowan led this honest life until he grew bored as times changed, and the world morphed around him. he left europe and returned to the mainland of china, where he took permanent residence for quite some time, familiarizing himself with a culture he’d never gotten to experience. this placated him, quelled some of the passionate fire of his youth; though he was no less aggressive, only passively so. not long after, rowan moved to south korea on an anonymous tip that what you’re looking for was waiting for him. and they had been right.

INTERVIEW QUESTION (para sample): “Just run us through what happened that night”. - Officer

rowan snuck a glance at the time on his wrist, then tilted his chin to inspect the scuff of his shoes. when he looked up through dark lashes, the officer was still staring at him. accusatory, knowing. rowan bit back a smile, amused by the officer’s front.

“i’ll have you know i’m a very busy person. if i had the time, i’d happily relay my tale but,” rowan watched his watch tick from minute to minute. “i shouldn’t be staying much too longer.”

the officer reddens; perhaps from frustration...or maybe the way rowan’s shoe tickles their shin. “you’re going to tell me everything you know.”

“am i?” rowan blinks, feigned shock. “that seems quite demanding, i don’t think the boss would like that.”

“boss?”

rowan covers his mouth delicately, though the smile behind his palm stretches too wide for comfort. “oh dear- i’ve said too much already.”

metal screeches as the officer stands, the sound grating on rowan’s ears. his jaw ticks, eyes fluttering closed as he reins in a low growl. he hates that sound. “several officers saw you come out of that building earlier- so how is it that several hours later three people are found dead.”

rowan tilts his head left. then right. “a coincidence?”

“you didn’t even bother hiding from the main camera as you left. there was blood on your clothes.”

“hm?” rowan smiles, bright and charming, cuspids gleaming. “are you sure it wasn’t a bloody mary?”

a fog sneaks over the officer’s eyes, expression slackening in confusion. “we-”

rowan leans forward, brow raised, eyes practically glowing. “hm?”

the officer frowns, scratches their head. “well, you did come out of the building. but that was-”

“six hours before the murder.”

“-six hours before the murder.” the officer blinks into the air, then at rowan. “there’s no way you could have done it if you were gone by then.”

rowan nods, the brightness in his eyes cooling. he stands, gently, from the table, glances at his watch. its been thirty minutes past meeting time- boss is going to be highly upset. he wonders how he’s going to placate his boss this time, contemplating a very expensive bottle of wine, or maybe a meal, when the door to the interview room opens. a familiar face pops in, antsy and wide-eyed. one of his newer...followers.

“sorry for taking so long, they wouldn’t let me in.”

“did you tell them who you were here for?”

“zhang rowan.”

rowan rolls his eyes, clasping a hand on the other’s shoulder with only a slightly painful grip. “i’ve told you not to say that name, didn’t i?”

his lackey grimaces, sweat on their brow. “y-yes, malice. my apologies.”

“very good,” rowan grins, appeased, smoothing the lapels of his winter coat as he walks out of the precinct, smiling candidly at the employees that follow him with disbelieving (and disappointed) stares.

he bids a cheery, “have a lovely day~” before he walks out of the building and into the streets of agdoeg.

#rp #rpg #krp #krpg #oc rp #gang rp #mafia rp #vcaccepted #vcnightblood #oc rpg #gang rpg #mafia rpg #supernatural rp #supernatural rpg #literate rp #literate rpg

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wanderingmoonsword · 6 years

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Obsidian Minotaur

A distinctive member of the golem family, obsidian minotaurs are constructs made of shining black volcanic glass, with oversized claws at the ends of their hands that crackle with awful fire when the beast drives its claws into a victim. Their breath can sap the Dexterity from foes, making it far easier for those claws to tear and shred. Beyond that, obsidian minotaurs share fully in a golem’s immunity to magic and its resistance to physical attack, their gleaming obsidian chipping only when assailed with tremendous strength of adamantine. But there’s a value to the obsidian minotaur beyond their toughness and strength. As I discussed with the Northlands aurochs recently, bulls have a long history as symbols, especially of fertility and strength. That can make obsidian minotaurs choice constructs of the elite who prize those virtues or make them the unique creations of specific groups tied to gods or other powers.

Though often clothed in the flesh of the wealthy businessman Alessandro Theodoros, the underworld dragon Mosanthion maintains a private retreat upon an island not far from Santorini. Always fascinated by the ruins at Knossos, the dragon has paid out a small fortune to raise a palace of his own at the heart of a modern labyrinth, and what labyrinth would be complete without a minotaur? Shaped from the volcanic glass of the island, the obsidian minotaurs roams the labyrinth’s inner depths or stands silent watch beside the gate. The horned sentinel is both the protector of Mosanthion’s secrets and his favorite means to deal with those investigators who prove too honest to be bought and too stubborn to be terrified.

Cults of Baphomet sometimes create obsidian minotaurs, but the practice is most common among those sects that arise in the hedonism and boredom of the nobility. The silent constructs often guard their secret meeting places, kept under the control of the cult’s leader, a role passed down from parent to child along with the magic phrases that grant mastery of the cult’s enforcer. Many of the obsidian minotaurs they craft bear strangely goat-like heads, shaped as Baphomet’s spirit guides the hands of his followers. Some of these obsidian constructs crackle with the unholy energies of fiendish souls bound within, their glassy forms reflecting vile torments when viewed out of the corner of one’s eye. (Treat as the fiend-infused golem template on Cheliax, the Infernal Empire 60-61.)

Among the followers of Vrifane, the bull is a symbol not of life but of death, the herald that goes before the dead on their journey down into the Underworld. A black bull is customarily sacrificed every year for the Feast of the Fallen, and horned priests read the last rites for the departed. Obsidian minotaurs are often the guardians of the great catacombs, protecting the forms of the dead from harm, and their searing claws often make potent weapons against the undead, setting the bound soul free to take its place in the afterlife.

- Tome of Horrors Complete 450

#pathfinder #D&D #dungeons and dragons #dungeons & dragons #frog god games #tome of horrors #construct

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demiebby · 6 years

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Loki’s Return (Loki x OC)

Rating: M (18+)

Characters: Loki, Hillevi (OC), Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, and mentions of others

Summary: Loki devises a plan to retrieve his scepter back from the Avengers. He entrusts his wife, Hillevi, to get it for him and together they shall rule over Midgard.

Warnings: Mild swearing, Detailed sex, implied adultery, and mentioned rape

A/N: This takes place after The Avengers, before Loki’s trial (in Thor: Dark World). Also Hillevi is a sorceress, she’s nearly identical to Loki. They’re both tricksters, but Hillevi leans more on the manipulating side.

“You say yourself a man, a loyal faithful husband, but you are not! You are a philanderer and a leasing-monger!” shouted a woman in venom.

“Leasing-monger? My dear you must forgotten it was this leasing-monger that rescued you from the dungeons of Muspelheim.” Loki approaches his wife taking slow calculating strides to her. His gaze intimidating the woman, but she stood her ground. “If I had not had done that you would be dead as we speak.” Their faces are mere inches apart when he leans towards her. A wicked smile graces his thin lips and the infamous mischief dances in his green eyes. He expels a faint mocking laughter and cocks his head. “Maybe you’d continue to be someone’s whore.”

A sharp gasp resonates out of the woman and she lowers her eyes to the floor. Her shoulders slump, head tilted down. Loki knew what the remembrance of Muspelheim would do to her. He knew it. Though never did she think of him using that against her in an argument. The memories of Muspelheim were embedded into her mind. Chained to a wall. Enduring the tortures Surtur’s henchmen brought to her. Her body serving as a pleasure garden for them.

Loki nod his head towards her silence. Taking a few steps back the raven-haired male then grinned. “You should know better than to assail me with your slanders my dearest. Not when you are not prepared for what your opponent has up his sleeve.”

A blast of energy propelled him into the wall. He impacted the surface and grunted. Surrounding him was a hollow crater and debris. Loki flicked his hands, a beam of green light appearing then fading when he was clothed in his signature gold, green, and black armor. His green eyes stare icily towards Hillevi, the female’s normally brown eyes were entirely violet.

“You have insulted me for the last time Loki.” Her voice is wavering through the anger, hurt, and contempt she’s feeling toward the man. “As we said in our vows ‘til death comes to part us asunder.’” She conjured a sword into her hand with a flicker.

Loki stood tall, “So be it.” and following that was a battlecry.

In the dining hall, Thor sat at the table with his mother, father, and Sif & the Warriors Three. The seven of them were seated, waiting for Loki and his wife, Hillevi, to arrive. Upon Frigga’s wishes they planned a sumptuous feast in recognition of the newlyweds marriage. They were married in the warm autumn whilst Loki was imprisoned for his actions against Midgard. According to Einherjar guards, Hillevi had taken a liking to him and Loki had favored her company. The sorceress would visit Loki nightly and talk to him of his future with her. Some would say Loki was enthralled by the beautiful conniving witch when he agreed to marry her. Others whispered that they were a pair of wickedness and trouble. In the eyes of the family, they appeared to be happy and not at all wild with devious intentions.

“The food is getting cold as we wait,” announced Thor. He looks at his mother, “What hinders them from joining us?”

Frigga answered, “I do not know, yet I have a suspicion.”

“A suspicion of what?”

Thud. Thump. Several eyes looked up to the ceiling as the chandelier above the dining table wavered. Thor slid his chair back and grabbed the handle of Mjolnir. Sif grasped her sword and steel shield. The Warriors Three held onto their weapons with vigilance. They waited for the approaching, peculiar threat to come to light. Abruptly as it started the sound ceased. The young warriors were still weary and kept their eyes to the ceiling while holding their swords and flails.

“Do not worry my friends,” said Thor. “It must be the,”

Crash. Two bodies crashed through the ceiling and landed right on the table. The god of thunder analyzed the sudden appearance and saw it was Loki and Hillevi. What were they fighting for? The sorceress was on top of his brother a dagger in her hand and raised above her head.

“Scoundrel!” hissed Hillevi.

A push from Loki’s magic hurled the woman off him and across the room. Their onlookers watched in bewilderment as the raven-haired man leapt to his feet and advanced to the enraged witch. Clamors, exclamations for them to stop fell upon deaf ears. Neither heard or adhered. Loki flung daggers to Hillevi. All she managed to avoid, but one pierced through her abdomen. The room fell silent; a sharp gasp, then Hillevi dropped to her knees. Her hand clutched on the blood that seeped through her dress from the wound.

“Hillevi!” Frigga rushed to the young sorceress aid. She held her in her arms, while her eyes glared to her youngest son. Before she could reprimand him, Odin interrupted. “Loki!”

Thor stood in front of his brother, his hand on his shoulder and he didn’t look at all pleased. “Brother… what is this madness that transpires between you and Hillevi?”

Loki didn’t respond. Hillevi brazenly pulled the dagger out of her abdomen and growled. “Is this what you wanted my dear husband? To see me bleed? I am bleeding now!” She weakly stood to her feet with the help of Frigga. “That harlot that you bed at night is nothing compared to me. She is a disgusting concubine; a woman with no morals.”

Despite knowing the answer already, Odin still asked, “Hillevi, what has Loki done to make you upset?”

“Adultery. I found a letter from a woman in his pocket, and she claimed to have fornications with the bastard when I was kidnapped in Muspelheim.”

Loki chuckled. He folded his arms behind his back. Never once did he lessen his arrogance. “Kidnapped? Darling you were begging to go there until you grew tired of their uppermost hospitality.”

“Loki,” gasped Frigga. “You have said enough. As your Queen, I demand that you leave and return to your chambers at once.” When he did not move she yelled, “Go!” The faint tinge of hurt appeared just as hastily as he left. The doors of the dining hall slamming behind him. It hurt Frigga to know that her son was causing his wife turmoil. Regardless of being his mother, there had to be times where she had to chastise him. She went with Hillevi to a bedchamber far from Loki’s.

That night Hillevi was visited by Thor, she was in her bed sleeping peacefully when the blonde male abruptly woke her. He had one hand pinning her on the bed whilst he crouched above the sorceress. She conjured a dagger; he pinned her other hand down. She hissed, “You Odinsons are just alike. Handling women with such brute actions should be a crime.”

He harshly whispered, “Your well-being is none of my concern witch.” Hillevi pursed her lips and tilted her head up. “You will tell me what sort of trick you and my brother are devising.”

Thor must be dim-witted; he thought that they were lying. That their fight in the dining hall was a play of some sort. “You fool. Your brother and I are not tricking you. The love that I once had for him is gone the moment he stabbed me. I was going to spare his life, but now I will not stop until that Jotun runt’s blood is in a chalice for me to drink.”

“My God…” His grasp on Hillevi loosened and he stepped away from her. Thor’s face twisted into disdainful grimace.

Her red-painted lips broadened to a fiendish smile. “Your brother is a breath away from my current bedchambers. If you want him to live, I will propose sending me to Midgard, should be suffice.”

The god of thunder faltered. His eyes narrowed at the woman. “Midgard? Why there specifically?” His tone interrogative. “To go there and terrorize the humans just as your husband once did?”

She shook her head, face buried in the palms of her hands, and grumbled, “Dim-witted oaf.” The sorceress raised her head up. “Would you rather I stay here and murder your beloved brother?”

Thor was left without a decision. He had to protect his brother from his wife. He reluctantly agreed to Hillevi’s suggestion. “Fine. I will send you off there Hillevi and you will be under scrutiny.”

“Who’s going to patrol me? Heimdall? Odin?” She leaned forward to the man. Her voice muttered, “You?”

Hillevi was a captivating woman. She was sinfully attractive in the eyes of many men. And she was Loki’s wife. Thor shuddered slightly at the intensity of her lusting gaze. His azure eyes descended down to her hourglass figure. The crevice of her breasts peeked underneath her bed robe. Flawless, smooth skin revealed to him. Moonlight illuminated Hillevi’s golden brown skin. Then he looked at her lips; her tongue swiping at her bottom lip and pearly white teeth biting down at it.

She would be dull if she said she didn’t thought Thor as handsome. He undoubtedly was. The broad muscles from training to be a warrior. His long gold locks of hair. Those ocean blue eyes that pierced her soul. Thor. Had she not been married to Loki, Hillevi would have copulated with the god of thunder. Bore him a child if possible. Although there were times where Thor would be annoying, obnoxious, and moronic. Hillevi wondered how did his previous companion fare to him. Blatantly ignore him or entertain the overgrown man-child with toys?

“I-I… It will not be me. I have comrades that will do it.”

The woman kneeled on the bed, her arms crossed. Hillevi raised an eyebrow and grinned, “Comrades? I would love to see them.”

“...Okay rewind. Pause, and play, now tell me again why is your brother’s wife here?”

In the middle of the common room, at the Avengers compound, were Thor and Hillevi. Both persons in their Asgard wear and recently surprised their hosts with their appearance. Well… the appearance of Hillevi. A new face brought thousands of light years from Asgard, allegedly being the wife of a man that terrorized them, wasn’t going to be taken lightly. The Avengers were wary of this. When Tony first saw them his first reaction was, “no more strays” in contrast to Steve simply asking Thor why he was here and not alone.

Tony waited for Thor to answer him. The god explained once more. “My friends… I understand that you are all perplexed by the guest I have brought with me. I apologize for that, however, there will be trouble brewing in Asgard if I had left her there.” He tugged on Hillevi’s chains, the woman nudging forward and scoffing. “Her name is Hillevi, she is Loki’s wife. It appears that my brother has committed adultery and while it is not a crime on Asgard nor is it punishable… it is looked down on. Before all else done by a man of royal rank. Hillevi, out of anger, fought with Loki.”

“Was it with words or with fists?” Tony interjected. He was glared at. “What? I just wanted to know!”

“They fought till Loki stabbed Hillevi with a dagger.” Thor continued, “She told me in confidante that if she were to stay on Asgard any longer, knowing by the fact that Loki is there, she will finish in killing him. Loki is my brother and I will do all to protect him. Even if we don’t see eye to eye at times. So, I have brought Hillevi here to prevent that from happening. I trust that you all will watch her while I am away at Asgard.”

Steve sighed and he looked at Hillevi. She batted her eyelashes at him and he shuddered from her gaze. The supersoldier rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing, “Um… we’ll take care of her Thor. Tony we got anywhere to keep her in?”

“What?! Cap we are not going to keep Hills of Evi in the tower! Don’t you know what Fury would do if he knew that we had her here? I thought I was supposed to be the only one who thinks with what’s between his legs not you!”

“Thor has a point Tony. If he keeps Hillevi there, she’ll kill his brother, I don’t like the guy but no one should die.” Steve argued.

Tony opened his mouth to say something until he got a chill down his spine. He blurted out, “Fine she stays.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Tony and Steve. Odd. Usually these two wouldn’t agree on what to watch, but now they’re agreeing to keep Loki’s wife? Something’s not right here. The redhead examined Hillevi. She was off-putting. There was something within her dark gaze that Natasha couldn’t figure out… yet.

“My friends you have my gratitude.” Thor smiled whimsically to the two men. He freed Hillevi from her shackles and threatened, “Let it be known that if you double-cross me, I will feed you to a bilgesnipe without second thought.” Hillevi was unconvinced by his meaningless threat. She knew that Thor would never do that to her. She was the wife of his brother for Asgard’s sake. Killing her would only infuriate Loki.

Hillevi snarled at the taller man, bumped her chest on him, and exposing her teeth. “Until that happens you are but words.” Thor scowled at the woman and pointed for her to follow Tony and Steve. Without word she followed behind them.

The sorceress was lead to her quarters. Her bedroom was fairly large, the walls painted ivory and the ceiling in taupe. A square bed against the wall with a padded headboard and quilts and pillows. To her right was a single white armless chair and a round glass end table adjacent to a window that overlooked woodlands. On the wall opposite from the bed a flat television and below it an ottoman.

Hillevi beamed, her hand gently glided on the ottoman. “This chamber is exquisite. You humans impress me with your intricate designs.” She spun in a circle and gracefully sat on the bed, crossing her legs.

Tony muttered, “You’ve never seen a bedroom before lady?” he adds, directly to her. “If you’re hungry we’re eating lunch together in about an hour.”

“Understood. Now leave me.” She demanded.

Tony shut the door and Steve remarked, “She seems kind of neutral to be here. Didn’t put up a fight, doesn’t show any sign of grief.”

“What are you trying to say Cap?”

“I’m saying that if a woman is hurting because her husband cheated on her, shouldn’t be acting so comfortable when she is around his enemies.”

A light bulb flickered in Tony’s head and his eyes brightened. Steve raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re right. We need to keep a close eye on her, something is not right. Jarvis notify me if the Wicked Witch of Asgard does any strange.” The two men walk away from Hillevi’s door and to the common room to discuss with Thor about Hillevi.

“...I didn’t want to leave you there alone my sweet. What have they done to you?” Hillevi asked Loki. She sauntered to her husband on his bed, placing a hand on his shoulder. Her touch was cold, Loki reminded himself this was a projection and not the actual woman.

He took her hand into his and caressed the top with his thumb. “Nothing as of yet. Mother is livid at me for fighting with you and Odin has not said anything. Though I know that they will try to punish me somehow for stabbing you.” He raised his head to his wife and looked to her earnestly. “Are you still hurting?”

She shook her head all the while smiling warmly. She assured, her voice calming, “I am not. You forget that I can heal with my magic, love. After I removed the blade and your mother escorted me to the healers, I used my seidr to repair the damage.” She opened the side of her dress and showed him the spot where her wound used to be. “It is nothing to me now. I do not blame you my love. If you hadn’t done it, they would not have believed us.”

Loki touched the skin and let out a relieved sigh. “How lucky am I to have such a powerful sorceress for a wife?”

“You are blessed my darling.” Hillevi told him. There was a pause before she added, “I thought you should know that in order for me to get this far in our plan, I had to manipulate your brother and his friends. Although… I sense that one of them is not convinced by my act.”

The raven-haired man immediately knew who she was talking about. “The Black Widow.” He snarled and shot up to his feet to pace the room. “She is difficult to deceive.” Loki warned her and he walked up to his window. “The others are as gullible as children, but her… she is invincible to deception.” Hillevi got to her feet and Loki looked at his wife. “Stay away from that woman.”

“No, I can get her to fall for my trick. I just need time to,”

Stubborn woman. The raven-haired man utter suddenly, “I said stay away from her Hillevi!” Loki couldn’t allow for her to be gone again. Not again. He was without her for months when she was trapped in Muspelheim. He could not let Hillevi fall victim for the Avengers. He composed himself, unclenching his fists, and lowering his head. He spoke softly, “You must understand my decision. This is for your safety.”

Hillevi approached her husband then envelop her arms around him. Loki brought her in for a chaste kiss, a hand holding the back of her neck. They pulled apart, staring in each other’s eyes for a moment. “I love you my King.” Hillevi whispered.

“I love you my Queen.”

She benignly smiled at him, “I have to go now. Promise me you’ll be okay.”

“I can’t make any promises love.” Her projection soon faded away and he was alone.

“Hillevi is a woman of tricks, mischief, and schemes. To put it blatantly, she is vastly similar to Loki. They both are sorcerers, enjoy in causing havoc, and manipulating their targets. I do not know nothing more about Hillevi besides that she is a sorceress and is married to Loki.” Thor explained to his friends in the lounge room.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. The Other Guy was not okay with Loki’s devious wife being here. “Thor, I-I’m sorry but why- couldn’t she just stay in imprisonment at SHIELD? Instead of running freely through here? I’m not- The Other Guy isn’t happy with this.”

Clint agreed, “Me too. Last time Loki was here he caused million dollars worth of damage and killed innocent people. Survivors lost homes, businesses, and all that other crap. What makes you think that the Queen of Hell won’t do the same?”

“There is no motivation or anything valuable for her here. As far as I know, Hillevi has no knowledge of Midgard.” Thor said.

Natasha commented, “This is just my opinion: something is not right about her. When Steve and Tony both agreed that she should stay here that raised flags.” She turned her head to the aforementioned men, “You two hardly agree on anything. I don’t know about you guys, but I will be keeping a close eye on her. Thor, you can say that Hillevi is not a threat to us, but until I can see that she is not, she stays in this compound.”

Thor agreed to the terms; a presence in the room caused heads to turn. They say Hillevi standing at the top of the stairs smirking down at them. She struts down the staircase, hand gliding on the rail as she descended. “Speaking of traitorous me? What more must I do to assure you all that I am not what you think I am?” No one responded. She continued, “I have no intentions on ruling Midgard if that is what you so fondly believe. My husband has tried and failed miserably at his own hands. I will not repeat what he has done. Midgard has you to protect them, and who am I to go against the terms of my stay here?” Her eyes shifted to Natasha. She clenched her jaw and averted her gaze. “I have been hurt emotionally by Loki. He has defiled our marriage and broke my trust. I may be a woman of tricks,” She looked to Thor seriously, “But I am not my husband.”

Natasha inhaled sharply and exhaled. The woman says that she’s not like Loki… then maybe she’s not. “Just don’t try anything.”

“Oh,” Hillevi breathed, “I wouldn’t dare.”

Four weeks, Hillevi has been in the captivity of the Avengers. Throughout her time there she befriended half of the team. The easiest one to make friends with was Tony Stark. Except that was not a part of her mission. Her mission was to learn of their secrets and take back the stolen scepter that was bestowed to Loki. Those damned Avengers had no right to take the scepter away from her husband. Not when they didn’t know who gave it to him.

Hillevi’s eyes shut and she submerged into the bath water. The warm temperature of the water caressed her skin and the floral scent relaxed her mind. Honeysuckle. It was her favorite flower and Loki’s favorite scent to smell on her. The honeysuckle worked on Loki as some kind of aphrodisiac; it would cause him to make torrid love with her in the dusk. Hillevi’s hands slowly strokes her outer thighs after she had divided her legs. She pleasurably exhaled.

“You’ve been away for several weeks now Hillevi,” Loki’s voice abruptly came and she opened her eyes. There he was in the washroom with her, sitting on a stool, his eyes fixated on her. She was surprised to see him; elated to know that he was still alive. Loki’s lips scowled at the sight of her, “Is indulging yourself more important than our plan?”

“Loki, my dearest, no it is not. I’ve told you I had to gain their trust and befriend these pathetic fools. I have not forgotten about our plan.” She tells him, her body leaning half-way out of the tub. Hillevi pined for him, her head tilted, “I haven’t forgotten you.” Her eyes were blown with lust.

The raven-haired man bore an unreadable expression. Of course, Hillevi would be yearning for him. They’ve been separated for too long. This was just like the time when she was kidnapped in Muspelheim and gone for an entire month. When she returned… well they were reluctant to leave from his bedchambers. A tingle runs down his spine.

A trembling sensation erupted in between her legs and Hillevi moaned. She bit down on her lip, her body lowering into the tub and rocking downward. “I will give you a week Hillevi.” The woman squeaks when the vibrations to her nether regions intensified. “Bring me my scepter, or I will not let you climax.”

“No! No, please my King. I-I will bring it to you. Please, do not stop.” She pleads.

Loki sneered condescendingly. He waved his hand and the vibrations to her core finished her off. She came with a yelp, slumping on the edge of the tub while she rode off her high. Loki’s projection vanishes into thin air.

A knock on the door catches Hillevi’s attention. “Hey, is everything alright in there?” it was Tony.

She drained the tub of the water and wrapped a towel around her body. She opens the door, greeted by a weary Tony. Hillevi cocked her hip out, “I am fine. Although you look rather tired, Tony.” She reaches out to touch his face. When he doesn’t stop her mid-way, she confidently grasps his cheek, caressing his cheekbone with her thumb.

The billionaire silently chuckled, and grabbed her hand lowering it from his face. “Between you and me, I tend to wake up randomly at night.”

Hillevi boldly rested her arms over his shoulders. She frowned at him, appearing to be worried, “Poor you.” A hand stroked the back of his neck. “To enlighten you, in Asgard, I would be called upon by men to alleviate the stress their muscles endured. Particularly, our soldiers.” Her leg slid between his thighs, her knee brushing on his groin. She raised her eyebrows, head tilted, “Perhaps I can lull you to sleep?”

Tony let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. “You just don’t know when to quit don’t you?” Hillevi thought he was seeing through her facade, but when his hand gripped on her outer thigh possessively, she smiled slyly.

“One would say I am persistent.”

Her and Loki had discussed this prior to her leave. He told her if she had to sleep with one of the Avengers, in order to retrieve information from them, then she shouldn’t shy away. Loki was concerned with her losing her devotion and love for him rather than her fornicating with another man. After all, to him, it was her love that proved her loyalty.

Hillevi had many men wrapped around her finger. Manipulating them was effortless. Humans were no different from Asgardian men, since they all did her bidding. Tony carried her to her bedroom, hands squeezing on her bottom, while their lips were fervidly interlocked. He closed the door and collapsed on the bed on top of her. Surprisingly her towel never unraveled.

After removing his shirt, he says, “Let’s see what’s underneath here,” He pulls her towel apart, fascinated by her ethereal body. So this is how the Asgardian female’s anatomy was. The round breasts, narrow waist, and wide hips. Tony’s eyes went lower discovering that her haven was completely bare. “Here I thought only girls here go Brazilian.” Hillevi looked at him confused and he hastily replied, “Nothing you should know.”

His hand rested on her breastbone, fingers splayed open on her golden brown skin. She arched her back to his tender touch, breathlessly telling him to go lower. He did. His fingers paused right at her abdomen. Tony wanted to go lower, but suddenly he was fighting with himself. A voice in the back of his head told him he shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be with his enemy’s wife. No… they weren’t together anymore. Hillevi was his ex-wife.

Why did he stop? Hillevi looked up at Tony. She read him over and came to the conclusion he was reluctant to continue on. The sorceress sat upright and grabbed his wrist, “Tony,” she gasped. Her hand directed his fingers inside of her opening. Two digits filled her and stretched her walls. She maintained eye contact with Tony while she rocked on his fingers. “Can you feel me? I’m terribly moistened because of you.”

He exhaled, “Are ya?” then proceeded to kiss her roughly. His mustache hairs tickled her lips when she deepened the kiss. His fingers sped up inside of her, except it wasn't her urging him to do it. She releases his wrist and grips onto the fabrics beneath her. Her hips rotated desperately seeking a second climax that night.

Hillevi pulled away from the kiss and tugged down his sweatpants. She was surprised for a moment to see he wasn't wearing any undergarments. Her lips curved salaciously, the browns of her eyes twinkling at the sight of his rigid length. To be a human he was modestly endowed. His shaft firm and arched, the tip coated in a thin sheen of his pre-semen and just below it were plentiful taut spheres. Her nails flitted on them and went up to his base. She snaked her hand around it, squeezing, and eliciting a groan from the man.

“No, don't pull them out.” She said quickly when he was removing his fingers. “Leave them… there.” She let out a quivering gasp as his fingers drove deeper into her canal.

Tony sassily responded, “I'll leave them in there if you do something with your hand.”

She understood his indirect request and her hand stroked his shaft to the rhythm of his fingers. Long, hastened strokes. “You weigh heavy in my hand Anthony,” she told him. “I cannot tell you how much I want for this to be inside of me. Would you want that Anthony? Your cock plunging into my warm wet heat. My haven cradling you like a snug blanket on a cold winter's night.”

Tony makes a strangled noise and Hillevi abruptly stops her hand. She lets go of him, takes out his fingers (that are generously slicked), and flip them over on the bed. She sits on top of him, leering down at the man beneath her. One hand reaches behind to grasp his member the other holds his neck.

Her lips are pressed against his ear, warm breath tickling the shell of it. “Before I give you what you want,” she purred. “You have to give me what I want.”

Tony licked his lips and bucked into her hand. “Anything you want baby.” He said huskily. “Anything you want.”

Hillevi giggled and presses the tip of him on her opening. She bites back a moan while he groans impatiently. “I need to know where is my husband's scepter.” She demanded.

“His glowstick of destiny?” She didn't understood his reference, but nodded her head regardless. “Darling, I don't think,”

“If you refuse to tell me its whereabouts,” She lifted her lower body up and smirked mischievously at him. “I will ask of you to leave with the problem between your legs.”

“Okay, alright, fine!” Tony pleaded. She inserted the tip of him. He held onto her hips and replied, “It's locked up at SHIELD facility! They have it.”

Hillevi lowered down on his cock slightly, but pressed on, “What are it's coordinates? I want the location.”

“It's just an hour from here.” He relented, head leaning back when he was buried inside of her. Tony released a drawn-out groan. “Fuck… it’s a huge facility can’t miss it.”

“Last question… do you humans have birth protection?” she asks.

Tony scrunches his face, “You mean a, shit, c-condom?” Hillevi, once again confused, nods her head. “Yeah. I don’t have one on me though. Kind of wasn’t expecting to be fucking an Asgardian tonight.”

The sorceress hums, her fingers tapping on his neck. “Then try to release outside of me.” She whispers.

She triumphantly smiles and starts to ride him. Tony looks on in awe as her breasts bounce and her face distorts pleasurably. Like a magnet his hands are attached on her mounds, pinching her teats and emitting airy mewls. He smirks at this. Gradually her speed increases and Tony snakes his hands forward then grips her ass. Hillevi’s damp onyx hair drips onto his shirt as she erratically bounces on his length.

“Wow this is so fucking good. Go harder, baby,” The man thrusts upwards, hearing a moan emit from her. “I should visit Thor to Asgard sometime if you’re all this – fuck – good.”

Hillevi chuckled, “My darling when it comes to the women of Asgard, I am the best of them all.”

A tingle ran down Tony’s spine before he pulled Hillevi’s head down into a brute kiss. Their teeth clashed and tongues were rolling over each other. She allowed herself to be dominated, submitting to Tony and he flipped their bodies. The male sucked on her bottom lip, relishing in the sound of a needy moan.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, caging him in between her thighs firmly. Tony gave her body ruthless poundings. His length drilling inside of her and drawing her closer to her peak. The sorceress stopped kissing him and guided his face to her neck. His lips overwhelmed her nape with sloppy open-mouthed kisses. She bit down harshly on her bottom lip, eyes squeezing shut.

Despite appearing to be a mature man, for his age, Tony was an animalistic lover. Loki on the other hand was full of teasing. He would play with her sensitive nub relentlessly until she was close to her climax. While it was fun, she found it annoying.

“Don’t stop, I’m almost there.” She breathes, her fingernails rake up and down on his back. The light emitting from his arc reactor catches her attention. Her right hand gingerly touches it and Tony yelps suddenly. She yanks her hand away, but he places it back. Hillevi watches while a violet energy flare seeps from her fingers and disappears to Tony’s body. His deep brown eyes tint purple and become glassy. “Tony?” she whispers.

He doesn’t say anything, he’s not even moving. Hillevi sits up on the bed and ponders for a moment. ��Touch my breast.” He does as he’s told. She smirks, “Continue on.” She leans back on the bed and flicks her fingers. His eyes revert to their chocolate brown color.

After they’ve finished for the night, Tony retires to his respective bedroom. Prior to that, Hillevi manipulated him into not telling anyone what happened. She placed a hex on him; one that would ensure he’d forget running into her tonight. Now that she has learned of her newly acquired ability she sought that it would be used.

The following morning; Hillevi woke up with purpose. She dressed into a green, black, and gold blazer, black short-sleeved blouse, skin-tight leather pants with gold trimmings, and black and gold pumps. Her lips were coated in black matte lipstick. The sorceress’s hair neatly fixed into a bun. She bore a sinister grin into the mirror and waved her hand. Her husband appeared in the mirror and he was smiling at the sight of her.

“My love, soon you will have your scepter and this world will officially be yours.”

Loki nod his head, “Excellent. I have learned of a spell to conjure myself to you. All I require from you, love, is to call for me when you have obtained my rightful possession.”

“Will do my dear husband.” She waved her hand and he disappeared, her reflection replacing him.

Steve looked up from the book he was reading when he heard footsteps. Hillevi appeared around the corner and he raised eyebrows at her choice of fashion. “Uh, going somewhere Hillevi?”

“A woman can't dress to impress Steven?”

Steve prepared to answer till Natasha spoke up, “Depends on the occasion.” The redhead stood behind the sorceress in a defensive stance. “What are you up to Hillevi?”

She rolled her eyes, “You are unbelievable.”

“In liars I am.”

“Romanoff,” called out Steve, “Ease up there. I’m pretty sure if the lady wanted to attack us she would have done so already. She’s been here for a month now and hasn’t appeared to be a threat.”

Natasha glared at Steve with flared nostrils and stormed out of the kitchen. Tony, Clint, and Bruce entered the room. Clint watched his close friend stomp to the elevator and he turned to Steve. “What’s up with Nat?”

Hillevi answered him, “Your dear friend assumes that I am plotting when I am not.” She smiled to the men around her. She reached into a bowl and grabbed an apple, before eating it she wiped it on her coat. “But I pardon her.” She sighed, shrugging her shoulders, “Who am I to judge her? I am nothing but a trickster’s wife.”

She inwardly smirked when a hand touched her shoulder, “Hey,” Her head looked to her right and saw Steve. His azure eyes were soft. “You aren’t Loki. You’re better than him. No need to beat yourself over it.”

“I gotta agree with Steve here, you’re no saint, but you’re damn sure aren’t a crazy bat.” Tony agreed.

Hillevi tittered, smiling saccharinely at the two men, “You have an odd way of speech.” The sorceress thought of her next words in her head. Should she ask them now? Her eyes shifted to Clint and Bruce then to Steve and Tony. It shouldn’t hurt. “I have a request, I have been held in captivity here for a month and while the intricate picture box is entertaining, I would like to venture outside for once.”

Clint snorted, “Ha. No way lady. You’re not leaving from here without supervision.” He pointed a fork at her then flipped it.

She countered, “Then maybe one of you could watch over me. I only want just a moment outside is all. To breathe fresh air and not what you humans call… air conditioning.”

Bruce looked wary and he backed away. “I can’t do it you guys. The Other Guy might cause trouble.”

“Tony?” Hillevi suggested.

“I don’t remember volunteering to play baby-sitter.”

“I beg of you, Tony, please.” She placed her hand on his chest, sneakily letting her powers mind control him again. She grinned slyly.

Tony said flatly, “Fine.” and dropped his coffee on the counter. “Come on Maleficent.”

Hillevi followed Tony to the elevator and he pressed on the lobby floor button. She faced the brunette man. “Take me to Loki’s scepter, and bring one of your suits.”

“Yes my lady.”

A/N: This is just part 1. Part 2 will be coming soon.

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