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mrwavellswaps · 1 year

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The Transfer Auction 1 - Vince

Once every month, late on the first Sunday evening, an auction would be held. But this was no ordinary auction. It was held at a secret location that only few knew about. Those people were either those that were extremely wealthy or those who were brought to the auction to ‘compete’. It took place in a rather large showroom with a huge luxurious stage at front. There were multiple rows of chairs seated before the stage, many of which were already filled by those eager for the show to start. As this was the men’s auction, naturally the entire crowd was made of rich men. The kind of rich you’d be able to sense at a single glance. High end tailored suits, designer clothes, expensive watches. The type of men that could spend thousands and hardly bat an eye. And yet, because of its unique and fascinating nature, this auction had drawn them all here. Because at this auction they could buy something they wouldn’t be able to buy anywhere else. So naturally when the lights dimmed, the crowd erupted with applause while a man made his way to the left side of the stage where the podium sat.

“Good evening everyone! My name is Gavin Alexander and I’ll be your host for the night!” He announced via the microphone.

“I can’t help but notice just how many of you there are so I suppose it’s only appropriate for me to say that this is a private event. AKA don’t be telling any poor folk about where we’re situated.” He laughed, getting a chuckle out of the small crowd. “But seriously, don’t. If we have to deal with the public then that means less fun for all of us!” He added, to which the audience murmured in agreement. “However, with that out of the way, let’s get this show started!” The crowd applauded once more as the stage lit up with spotlights, preparing for what was to come.

Moments later a group of ten men came onto stage, all in nothing but tight speedo and a number so that nothing was left to the imagination. The men varied slightly in age with the youngest looking around 20 years old and the oldest seeming to be in his 40’s. They also varied in height, appearance and race but the one thing that remained consistent throughout all ten men was that they were in great shape. Some of them were huge bodybuilder size, some were super lean with defined abs while others sat somewhere in between. Regardless, they were hunks to say the least.

The host walked over towards the first man in line. “As some of you may already know, this first group of men are our professionals. This means they’ll have a few guidelines which they’ll share with you as we proceed. After this our second group of men will be our criminal group who’ve been ordered to take part in addition to their sentences. As such these men don’t have the luxury of setting guidelines and so everything is up for grabs with them.” He stated clearly with a wide smile before making his way across the stage to the first hunk in line. “Now, to our first professional of the night, Mr Chase Adams! What are your terms?” He asked

“Well I’m cool with transferring muscle, body fat, hair and all that stuff. Only things that are off the table for me I’d say are genitals and anything to do with my face.” Chase listed off and as soon as he did the bidding began at around 400 grand. Many of the spectators eager to win a chance to ‘transfer’ with the well proportioned, fair skinned hunk. But one man in the crowd wasn’t the least bit interested in Chase.

Vince Hamlin. He wore a casual grey suit that hugged his lean form and honestly made him seem a little underdressed when compared to some of the other men in the audience. He was easily identifiable by his bald head while also keeping a nicely trimmed beard that framed his handsome looks perfectly. Vince sighed as he waited for the bidding of Chase to come to a close. The quicker they got to the sixth man in line, the better. Number six was only one Vince really had his eye on.

For the next half an hour or so Vince sat either on his phone or using his bidding paddle as a fan while he waited. Watched as the host defended down the line of hunks. The one after Chase was an asian man who had the face of a super model with an incredible swimmer's body. After him was another white dude who was the smallest of the bunch and prided himself on being so thin and lean. Vince couldn’t help noticing how more of the overweight men in the crowd began bidding once the guy mentioned body fat transferral was on the table. At last however he found himself sitting up a little straighter when the host finally approached the sixth man in line.

“Next up is Mr Darius Crawford and by the looks of it he’s our biggest man here tonight! But before we start fighting over him, what are your terms Mr Crawford?” He asked the hunk.

Just as the host had said, Darius was easily the largest contestant out of the group. He was huge all over with massive imposing muscles along with rich ebony skin and dark hair, not to mention being incredibly tall. Some of the gay men in the crowd were practically drooling at his mere presence, Vince included though he tried to hide it. “For me, the things that are off limits are my genitals, my race and my age in either direction. Besides that everything else is up for grabs.” He spoke with a deep, masculine tone into the mic before giving a thumbs up to the audience.

“You heard him folks!” The host said as he turned towards the audience again. “Now how about we start the bidding at… let’s say Six Hundred Grand? That sound fair Darius?” He turned back towards the bodybuilder who gave a satisfactory nod. “Six Hundred Grand it is!”

Right away people in the crowd began raising their paddles. 650K, 700K, 800K, 950K! The number kept rising and it was no surprise considering Darius seemed to be the grand prize of tonight’s professional selection. Just as the numbers were reaching the mid one millions however, Vince raised his paddle and shouted “Four Million!” There were a few glances in his direction, people slightly surprised at the sudden jump in bid.

“Going once!” The host beamed in Damian’s direction. “Going Twice!” He added. “Any more bid’s!? This is your last chance! Goin-” before he could finish he was interrupted by another bidder.

“Five Million!” Shouted a 60-something year old man.

“Seven Million!” Another one screamed with his paddle in the air.

“Twelve Million!!!” One more chimed in.

These bidders were persistent. More so than Vince had expected. Then again most of them are middle aged dudes with far too much money on their hands so he should’ve anticipated this. What he’d thought might’ve scared the other bidders off had only made them more desperate as the numbers only went into higher and higher millions. And so with a big sigh he threw his paddle up again and shouted “TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY MILLION!!!”

The host and the audience were stunned. “T-two hundred and fifty… million? I don’t think we’ve ever had a bid that high on one person before.” The host muttered before quickly trying to regain his composure. “Going once!” He began. “Going Twice! Any last competitor’s?!” There was a brief moment of silence and… nothing. “Sold! To the handsome gentleman in the grey suit!” He announced proudly with wonder in his voice.

Damian practically fell back into his seat, grateful that he didn’t have to increase his bid any higher. “Fuck this had better be worth it…” he grumbled to himself before resigning to sit through the remaining men on stage.

After that the bidding returned to normal. The host continued down the line of remaining hunks on the stage as each of them sold for a decent price around a million or so but none bothered to bid much higher. After all, everyone could tell Darius was the biggest prise to be won, literally, and Damian had already secured that bag. And so it wasn’t long before the tenth and final man in line was sold meaning the show could continue on to its next phase.

“Alright everyone! That’s all of our professionals tonight!” The host announced. “They’ll all be ready and waiting for those of you that one the bids but before that we have our second wave of men!” With that the professional made their way off stage to make room for the next group. Moments later ten more men were escorted on stage by the security. Like the professionals they were clad in nothing but speedos however, unlike the professionals, not all of them had huge sculpted physiques to show off. Two of them had decently impressive bodies but the rest varied. Some of them just looked average while a couple were slightly overweight. One of them was just a straight up bear with how huge and hairy he was. “Here we have tonight’s criminal selection! As previously mentioned these are men who’ve been ordered to be here by the court as part of their sentences which means anything is up for grabs!” It wasn’t surprising to Vince that this group had to be practically dragged on stage. There was no way in hell they wanted to be here but then again it was their own faults…

The bidding began with the host introducing the first criminal in line but Vince wasn’t the least bit interested. He’d already gotten what he came for so he pretty much just zoned out for the rest of the bidding. Most of the criminals had much lower starting bids than the professionals due to them not being in quite as peak physical condition. The two fittest men out of the group certainly had the highest bids to begin with them both starting at 100K. The bearish man however, though his starting bid was relatively low at around 40K, the audience got surprisingly competitive. In the end he was sold for a whopping Eight Million. Vince supposed some people in the crowd were quite eager to look a little more butch…

Eventually the tenth man of the criminal group was sold, much to Vince and every other winner’s delight. “And with that, the bidding part of tonight’s event comes to close!” The host stated. “Those of you who won the bids, please allow members of our staff to escort you to where you need to be. Everyone else feel free to help yourselves to the buffet. There’s plenty of food and drinks that are all on the house as a thank you from us for attending tonight!”

Vince got up from his chair and made his way over towards a group of staff with the other winners. The staff checked the numbers and each winner’s paddle to make sure everything was in order. Once that was taken care of they were led through a pair of double doors and down a long corridor with ten rooms on each side. Rooms 1A and 1B came first, on the left and right of the corridor respectively. The winner of the first professional bid was taken into 1A while the winner of the first criminal bid was taken into 1B. This pattern continued down the hallway with winners being taken into rooms that corresponded with whichever bid they’d won until they finally reached rooms 6A and 6B.

“Right this way sir.” One of the staff kindly ushered Vince towards 6A while the remaining winners continued down the hallway. Once inside he was shocked by the large futuristic looking machine that took up most of the room. It was a massive device that was connected to two chairs, both of which seemed to have some kind of helmet above them that was directly wired to the machine. He’d never seen anything quite like it… and they had at least twenty of these things?? It was only then that he finally noticed Darius, the gigantic hunk he’d won in the bid. He’d been sat patiently waiting since the professional bid ended and was eager to get up and greet Vince.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr…?” Darius began, holding out a large hand.

“Mr Hamlin. But you can just call me Vince.” The rich man responded before shaking Darius’s hand. “So I assume you’ve done this before?”

“Once yeah. A couple years ago.” Darius confirmed. “It didn’t hurt or anything. You just feel a bit weird for a while after as you try to adjust.” He explained rather nonchalantly. “And thank you by the way. I never imagined someone would bid that much for me. I know the organisers take 40% but that’s still one hundred and fifty million my way… I can’t thank you enough.”

Vince smirked as his eyes scanned over the hulking man’s form once again. “Your body is all the thanks I need.” He then turned his attention to the staff in the room with them. “So what’s next?” He asked. The staff explained that all they needed to do now was agree on what was being transferred. After that they just needed to get seated and the machine would do the rest.

“So what’s it gonna be?” The hunk prompted, taking a couple steps back to allow Vince a chance to take in everything that was up for offer.

“Your muscle. I want as much of it as you can give.” Vince didn’t hesitate for a second. He knew exactly what he wanted and who could blame him. Darius was a monster with how massive he was. “It’s always been a dream of mine to be huge like you. I’ve worked out a lot over the years but I’ve always struggled to put on any decent size. But now… suddenly it’s all possible.” Vince had to try and stop himself from salivating over the pure adonis before him. If he hadn’t been imagining having all that muscle for himself, he’d have been picturing himself fucking Darius’s huge muscle ass instead. If he didn’t have so much restraint he’d certainly have a boner right now.

Darius didn’t mind the lustful stares the other man was giving him. He wasn’t gay but, with how much this guy was paying him, he couldn’t really complain. “Yeah I figured you’d say that. I am pretty huge huh?” He gave one of arms a quick flex. “Was there anything else you had in mind?”

Vince thought about it for a second as he looked up at the giant before him. That’s when it hit. “How about some of your height as well? I’m 5’10 but I’ve always wanted to know what it feels like to be over 6 foot and you look like you’ve got plenty to spare.”

He wasn’t wrong. Last he’d checked Darius was about 6’5 and was usually one of, if not, *the* tallest man in a room. “Depends. How much you thinkin’?”

“How does 5 inches sound?”

Darius went back and forth in his head for a moment. 5 inches wasn’t too much right? He’d still be about 6 foot afterwards… “Alright, fine. 5 inches. But no more!” Darius put his foot down on that. He might’ve been getting paid a lot but he wasn’t about to drop down to 5’11 or below. He was a tall fucker and he wanted it to stay that way. Thankfully Vince seemed more than satisfied with that.

Just then some of the staff chimed in. “Alright so we’ve got 5 inches of height and as much muscle as can be safely transferred. Is there anything else you want to request, Mr Hamlin?” Some of them were already inputting settings into the machine regarding his previous requests.

Vince thought for a second. Tall and muscular, what more could he want? He was about to say that was all until his eyes nestled onto Darius’s bulge. “Well… I know on stage you said it was off limits but I was wondering…”

“Nope. Not happening.” Darius didn’t even need to hear the rest to know exactly what Vince was about to ask. “Sorry man. My girl doesn’t care how huge and buff I am but she loves my big dick. Can’t help you I’m afraid.”

For a moment Vince thought of offering Darius a little extra money in exchange but he could tell just by the look on the hunks face that it wasn’t going to happen. Or at least Darius wasn’t going to agree with it anyway. Luckily for Vince he had a backup plan… “Oh alright. Just muscle and height it is.” He waved his hands about a little before turning to the staff. “I suppose we’re ready now.”

Once all was decided both Darius and Vince were made to sign a few documents confirming that they both consented to the transfer and that Vince would pay his fee afterwards or would be reprimanded accordingly. And once that was taken care of, they were taken back over to the machine…

As the pair of them were getting strapped into the chairs however, Vince whispered to the man that was doing his chair. “Hey. I’ve got a deal for ya.” As quickly and quietly as possible, Vince proposed that he would give the man and his co-workers in the room a hefty amount of money if they agreed to transfer some of Darius dick size to him. The man gave him an awkward look for a second, his moral compass clearly being challenged, but soon enough he agreed.

Before long both Vince and Darius had the helmets placed on their heads, ready for the transfer. It took quite a while for the machine to actually boot up. Vince could only assume this was due to the staff members negotiating the deal he’d offered. He could only hope they’d make the right decision. Eventually there was a loud engine-like sound as the machine roared to life. For a moment Vince didn’t feel anything besides the buzzing of the huge device behind him so he was taken by surprise when a bolt of energy from the helmet came surging through his body. It was an almost indescribable feeling, as though he was being filled with electricity but instead of being frying him to a crisp it was energising him instead! It felt… exhilarating! So much so that he didn’t even realise the transfer was already taking place.

Slowly but surely Darius’s muscle mass began to decrease. His arms getting smaller, his huge chest deflating, his legs shrinking. With every second that passed he lost more and more size. All of that muscle he’d worked tirelessly to gain swiftly vanished along with all the strength that came along with it. All of it being converted into pure energy that was processed by the machine. Before long Darius was a far cry of his former self, looking thin lanky rather than imposing.

Of course all that energy had to go somewhere and that place was Vince. As soon as the machine had finished absorbing Darius’s muscle, it began pumping all of that energy into Vince’s body. He felt it immediately. A burgeoning power growing inside him. Gradually his body started to inflate with new muscle. His biceps and triceps expanding with newfound size as his back and chest started to broaden. Even his thighs and calves began to thicken significantly by the second. Before long ripping sounds could be heard coming from Vince’s suit.

His jacket was the first to give in as the sleeves started to tear under the pressure of his growing shoulders and biceps. The sound alone was music to his ears. Vince couldn’t actually see what was going on due to the helmet but the tearing of his clothes was a good indicator of how big he was getting! His upper body continued to broaden and expand, causing his jacket to pretty much explode apart at this point, revealing the already ripping shirt underneath which no doubt wouldn’t last long. But before it had the chance, his quads had the honour of bursting through his suit pants in all their glory, their sheer mass not wanting to be contained any longer. And not a moment later the top button on his pants came flying off as well as his hips and waist grew thicker. But not as thick as his ass. Vince’s once average butt ballooned to a colossal size, practically elevating him in his chair with its mass and giving him a nice round bubble butt just like Darius once had. Soon after he couldn’t help but let out a grunt as his chest heaved forwards, two massive pecs forming at last and being the final straw that caused his shirt to tear apart at last.

But of course just because Vince’s clothes were in tatters didn’t mean the growth was about to stop there. His body kept expanding, growing even larger with muscle. His thighs had grown so thick that it was impossible for them to not rub against one another. And that’s not to mention how ridiculously swole his upper body now looked. By the time the machine had finally run out of energy to pump into Vince’s body, his muscles looked engorged with unbelievable size and strength. No wonder since it was cramming all the muscle of a 6’5 man into 5’10 body. He was so swole now he’d hardly be able to move properly. But of course that had been accounted for and was about to change with the next transfer.

The machine returned its attention to Darius once again, sucking even more energy out of him. Only this time instead of taking his muscle, it was slowly shrinking his body in another way. His limbs and torso all diminished until his height had reduced its way down to 6 foot exactly. On the plus side for Darius, his body didn’t look quite lanky now as it had moments ago.

Of course once this was done the energy was once again redirected towards Vince. He felt the energy filling him once again, only this time it felt a little different. Instead of expanding, he felt himself stretching out instead! His arms and legs all grew longer as his height increased, finally coming to a haunt once Vince reached an impressive 6’3. Simultaneously the muscle he’d gained moments prior was now able to spread itself out a little bit better across his larger frame.

Now was the moment of truth. Had that bribe been enough to get Vince the last thing he wanted? There was silence for a moment as if the staff were still debating amongst themselves on what to do. For a second Vince was worried his little plan had failed. That is until the machine roared to life one more time…

“Hey uhhh… sorry you two but we just need to make sure there’s no ummm… imbalance between you two before we shut this thing down.” Said a voice over the speaker.

Darius was of course none the wiser but Vince knew exactly what that meant. Slowly and carefully so that he wouldn’t notice, the machine started sucking more energy out of Darius. Unbeknownst to the professional, his penis was gradually getting smaller until it had lost about 3 inches of its size. When the machine turned on Vince however, it made the transfer nice and fast. Within second he felt his cock inflate, going from an average 5 inch cock to an impressive 8 incher with some added girth to top it off. The rich, conniving man couldn’t help but grin maliciously.

A few minutes later the transfer machine was powered down properly before the staff returned to remove the helmets. As soon as they did, Vince looked down at himself in wonder. His body. It was everything he’d ever dreamed. Gigantic in every sense of the word with bulging muscle all over! He then glanced over at Darius who looked tiny in comparison. The intimidating bodybuilder he once was now replaced by an average skinny looking dude.

As soon as his restraints were removed, Vince tore away the remaining shreds of clothes leaving him in nothing but his dress shoes, socks and underwear. The latter of which was struggling against all hell to contain his cock and ass right now. But he wasn’t concerned about that right now. All he cared about was how fucking massive he was!

The very first thing Vince did was lift his hands up to grope his pecs, squeezing the muscle with pure wonder. They felt so soft yet when he tensed his pecs they became firm and hard. After that he bent forwards slightly and flexed both his arms together, feeling as they bulged with strength. His biceps looked like mountains on his arms as they peaked with insane size that not many would be able to match. And his lats… they were enormous! Even pushing his huge arms permanently out to the sides, giving him more of a natural alpha stance. It was incredible. He *felt* incredible!

Before Vince could continue exploring his god-like build however, one of the staff members stepped up carrying a pair of large black boxer briefs, some white joggers and a huge black t-shirt. “We figured you might want a change of clothes before you leave Mr Hamlin. We always have backups.”

The rich Adonis smirked before taking the clothes. “Thanks. I had such a one track mind towards getting this muscle that I hadn’t even considered my clothes.” He glanced down at the remains of his suit strewn across the floor. “Sorry about that by the way.”

“It’s no problem at all sir. We’ve found most people actually prefer keeping their clothes on during a muscle transfer so they can rip out of them anyway. We assumed that’s why you didn’t undress.”

Without another word, Vince pulled down his insanely tight underwear from before and kicked them onto the floor. The staff turned away but not before getting a glance at Vince's huge cock swinging free. It seemed that despite his self control, he was still rocking a semi. Of course the new hunk couldn’t help smirking at this, knowing full well his cock already looked bigger semi-erect right now than it did fully hard before. He didn’t dwell on it too much though. After all, Darius was still in the room. Instead he just pulled up the briefs and joggers he’d been offered, loving how despite their huge size, they still fit him perfectly. He did however decide to keep the t-shirt off for now. He wanted to savour this a little longer…

Meanwhile, as Vince marched over towards a mirror to admire himself further, Darius stood looking down at his thin lanky body. He hadn’t been this skinny since he was a teenager. The last time he did a muscle transfer, the other guy already had a decent but of muscle himself so the transfer wasn’t too crazy. But now? Lord knows how long it was gonna take him to put all that size back on. “Well… back to square one I guess.” He huffed, looking over at the rich white dude across the room who was now enjoying all his hard work. He couldn’t be mad. After all, he was getting an insane amount of money for this. But still. It just felt weird seeing himself like this.

The now miniature sized bodybuilder made his way over towards Vince who had now begun poses and flexing in the mirror, enamoured by his new reflection. Even watching as he pulled down the joggers for a second to get a look at how juicy his new muscle ass was and judging by Vince's reaction, he wasn’t disappointed. “Hey man. Lookin pretty swole! You’re happy with the transfer I take it?” Darius questioned, keeping a positive attitude.

Vince turned to face Darius with a cocky smirk. “Oh you have no idea. It feels even better than I could’ve imagined. Happy would be an understatement.” He confirmed, flexing again. He also couldn’t help but relish in the fact that he was now the one looking down at Darius thanks to the height transfer. “Thank you Darius. I promise you I’ll take good care of all this.” He vowed before extending a hand out.

“You better. I certainly didn’t sculpt all that muscle so a rich white guy could waste it away.” Darius half-joked as he clasped the other man’s hand and shook it firmly.

As they shook Vince couldn’t help but grin inwardly. Darius still hadn’t noticed the extra dick transfer he got the staff the throw in. Not that it mattered if he did because soon enough he’d get the staff to erase the info on the dick transfer from any of the transfer machine’s data logs. By the time Darius realises what’s happened, he’ll have no way to prove it as all the staff in the room will be sworn to secrecy with Vince’s money. It was slightly evil, he knew that. But how could Vince pass up the chance to fuck and dominate dudes not only with all this muscle but with an even longer and fatter cock too! Besides he needs bigger equipment to match his bigger body right!?

The staff then took some time to go over a few details with the men. Listing possible side effects and what to maybe expect post transfer such as headaches and mild nausea for the first 24 hours while their bodies adjust. Vince was hardly listening though, only focusing on how fucking jacked he was now. Once they were done with the formalities however, they said the pair of them were free to either leave or join the rest of the attendees at the buffet.

At last Vince slipped on his t-shirt, adoring how it clung desperately to his giant pecs while the sleeves struggled to hold his biceps. With that he made his way out to the buffet where some of the other winners were already being admired after their own transfers. There were a few others who’d buffed up considerably as well as a few that seemed to have gotten younger with an age transfer no doubt. He even saw the guy who’d bidded on the bearish criminal and sure enough he was covered in thick manly body hair now as he was proudly displaying through his slightly unbuttoned shirt. Not to mention the huge bushy beard he now adorned.

The moment someone noticed Vince however, everyone stopped and looked. His transformation was the most insane of them all and it was no surprise considering who he’d won on the bid. Within moments the attendees and other winners alike came over to ask him how it felt and what it was like. All of them seemingly blown away by his transferral. Of course Vince revelled in the attention and it was now easier than ever to pick out the other gay men from the crowd by the way some of them looked at him.

The rest of his evening was spent being admired and complimented on his new body. It gave Vince a sense of confidence and cockiness he’d never experienced before but he couldn’t deny how much he loved it. He was frequently asked to flex his biceps by the increasingly drunk attendee’s and some people had even asked him to pick them up off the ground to which he did with ease. He even learnt how to bounce his pecs to his and everyone else’s delight. One very drunk dude even made a comment about how he wanted to shove his face between Vince’s juicy pecs. A wish that Vince was happy to grant as he pulled the guy in for a hug and made sure to squish the dude's face between the two slabs of meat on his chest. After which Vince even gave the guy his number so they could maybe meet up another time when he wasn’t so drunk.

Eventually the night came to an end and everyone piled out of the event, eager to get home. On his drive home, Vince couldn’t help thinking about everything he was going to do now. Besides checking himself out every morning he was going to love the attention he was gonna get every time he walked into a room from now on. He was also going to have a ton of fun buying new clothes to fit his gigantic physique. Not to mention how empowering it was going to feel to be the biggest guy at the gym from now on as he works to maintain all this. And most of all he couldn’t wait to get some hot guys to worship all his muscle before he fucks their brains out. He already knew he’d be pounding the guy he gave his number to in the near future. Maybe he could get ahold of the dude that took the bear criminal’s hairiness as well. The dude had definitely been making eyes at him. He was already pretty good looking before but now with all that body hair he looked gorgeous. Vince couldn’t help Imagining how good those bearded lips would feel around his fat cock…

Regardless Vince knew that he was gonna have the time of his life being the muscle beast from now. He reached down and groped his now fully hard cock through his joggers, smiling as he felt a full 8 inches of thick man meat down there. Oh yeah he had A LOT of self worshiping to do when he got home.

More Transfer Auction stories coming in the future!

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#technology #male transformation #male muscle growth #musclegrowth #muscle transfer #cock swap #cock growth #cock theft #permanent #jock #The Transfer Auction

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sunlit-haruka · 2 months

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Honestly, I think that if Kotoko doesn't have any kind of tragic backstory or deep-ridden trauma and did have a relatively normal upbringing like she says she does, it will probably heighten my enjoyment of her character and her narrative even more. I've said it before and I'll say it again, my favorite thing about Kotoko's narrative and role in the story and why she is my favorite prisoner is the fact that she is the perfect encapsulation of what I think Milgram is trying to teach. It is unfair to put her, or any of these prisoners into boxes of good and bad because both are cruel oversimplifications that only serve to dehumanize them regardless of if the audience's intentions are good or bad. By dehumanizing them and partaking in the fucked up justice system that is Milgram, you are emotionally distancing yourself from them. When you emotionally distance yourself from these people, you become more ignorant to the possibility that you could do the very thing that they're doing. That Haruka, Yuno, Fuuta, Muu, Shidou, Mahiru, Kazui, Amane, Mikoto, and especially Kotoko could all be you and you won't know it before it is too late. That is why even within this system that pushes black-and-white nuance-less thinking, the narrative itself encourages you to look beyond the surface depiction of these prisoners that we are presented with. Because in the words of one Will Wood - "If you were in my shoes, you'd see I wear the same size as you" But what does any of that have to do with Kotoko and her backstory? Well, @/archivalofsins / Gunsli made a very good post that explains exactly what I'm going to talk about in more depth, but I'll give it a rundown nonetheless. It would be very easy for someone to look at a person who has gone through tragedy or trauma who has done bad things, and say in response: "See, I can't become like that because she is abnormal. I could never do that, that would never happen to me.". Now I would hope that you don't need me to tell you that this way of thinking is a white lie cake rich with ableist frosting, but that is a discussion dug into by Gunsli's post. And I do believe, if Kotoko is revealed to have a tragic traumatic backstory, this will happen to her. Because it happened to Amane. And that is why Kotoko having a 'normal life' would be so important to me and, in my opinion, heighten her already amazing narrative and writing. Her role in the story is to be a audience parallel, she is an embodiment of the system and mindset Milgram as a story criticizes and her actions are a direct consequence of our involvement in it. Milgram is already not subtle about this fact, but Kotoko's ordinary upbringing is the thing that fully hammers the nail in the wood. Anyone can become like Kotoko Yuzuriha, trauma or not. Her beliefs, her bigotry, her fascism, her violence, and her fantasy to be the chivalrous hero who protects the weak are not things that are alien or only things that form within an "abnormal" brain. In fact, they are very normal things that a lot of normal people across the globe perpetuate wholeheartedly whether they realize it or not. Kotoko isn't some one-of-a-kind individual She is literally just a girl

#I really hope this goes without saying but this is just my interpretation of Kotoko's narrative and what I think would improve it #I am not Yamanaka so I cannot say what would concretely be the best for her story #I can only form opinions and theories based on what's already been presented to us #haru chats about milgram #milgram #milgram project #kotoko yuzuriha #yuzuriha kotoko #milgram kotoko

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kalieros · 1 year

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I’ve been having thoughts.. about visiting your parents house for the first time with your fav.

AN: reader is Cis!female but I tried to make it easy to read for all regardless of gender preference :). ALSO, MDNI this is for mature audiences only.

Mentioned: size kink, dom/sub dynamics, use of "daddy," some manhandling and roughness, hairpulling, implied oral fixation, definitely NSFW. This is un poquito filthy...

Imagine: Kirishima, bakugou, NATSUO, AIZAWA, hawks, endeavor, deku, sero, SHINSOU, reiner, eren, zeke, mayhaps Connie if you squint

The two of you arrived early in the week at your childhood home for a visit, nervous for your parents’ approval. In truth, this visit has its reasons - things were getting serious between the two of you for some time and you were looking forward to introducing your parents to someone that could potentially become a more permanent part of your life. While you knew your parents would truly love the man you'd come to know and appreciate, the anxiety of the situation has gotten to his head a little.

Since you’d arrived that morning he’d been bending over backwards to get your dad to approve of him.

And everything was going just peachy until you asked your daddy to pass the salt at dinner - and that did not end well.

After a huge argument broke out between you and your father the two of you scurried off to your childhood bedroom to unpack and unwind from the events of the day (i.e: to hide).

“I’m sorry again,” he said, covering his face in a sweater he’d pulled out of the suitcase on the floor. “I wish I could just take it back.”

It wasn't like him to so visibly indicate his discomfort. The image worried you, his eyes downcast in a way that you had only seen a time or two before.

You shushed him, bringing your hands around his neck and leaning in. “Baby, don’t worry about it for now.. This was just a hiccup. Everything else went fine, I'm sure they'll overlook it. Plus... it was kind of funny.”

You ended that last note with a whisper, a playful grin painting itself across your face as you nuzzled your face between his cheek and raised arms.

The tactic worked, effectively breaking him out of his worry.

He laughed and huffed, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his forehead against yours. You were thankful he was easy to talk to on nights like these.

“You say that but I’m going to take the brunt of this,” he remarked, looking down at you pointedly. "They'd never blame you for this situation, even though you're the one that got us into this mess," he prodded, eyebrow lifting in an unimpressed stare.

"I have no idea what you're talking about" you feigned, looking up at him through innocent, fluttering lashes with a hand over your heart. "It was an honest mistake, nothing more. There's no way they'd hold it against us!" You leaned in, lips brushing his with a slight challenge.

"Nothing's gonna happen, I promise... daddy."

In an instant he was on you, lifting you up by the thighs and slamming you onto the bed with a thud.

You laughed and smiled, catching your breath at his sudden playfulness. Thank god your room was on the first floor.

He crawled onto the bed, looming over you with a devious look.

"Oh baby, you know how I feel about you calling me that." He practically growled, prowling forward until his entire body covered yours. His massive shoulders looked so powerful, and you felt so small under his gaze. Those piercing eyes roamed up and down your body, taking it in.

His right hand found its way to your hip, trailing up over your side and onto your chest, gripping you. You whimpered, a shudder rippling through your spine.

"Honey, I was just messing with you - " you started, a waver in your voice.

"Say it again," he whispered. An order.

"I-"

"Say it. Again." He ordered, eyes locked onto yours. Your eyes dropped, his stare intense and overwhelming, despite the numerous times you'd been in this exact situation with him. A fire at the base of your stomach began to pool, making you squirm with excitement.

"Daddy, I was just -"

He flipped you over with a motion so swift you saw stars. Hands groped and molded your ass under your skirt as he pushed it up and over your hips. A loud smack sounded throughout the room and you gasped, softly begging him to be careful about the noise. You would not want a repeat, much less a worse situation, than what happened at dinner.

He laughed and smacked your ass again. "Is that how you speak to me, baby? At least say please." He began to work your panties down your thighs, massaging your ass as he tossed them to the side. He thumbed at your hole teasingly, a gentle hum rolling off his tongue at the sight.

You whined, the feeling in between your thighs growing warmer and warmer. Your core ached for him already, and he'd barely gotten started.

"Please... Daddy... be careful about the noise." You rubbed your thighs together desperately, hiding your face in the mattress.

He sneered and grabbed your hair, pulling you back up. You cried out in response to the sudden jerk of his hand. "Do I need to do something to ensure you stay quiet too, baby?"

A tear rolled down your cheek, something he'd probably enjoy if he could see it. He smacked your ass again, harder this time, nudging your legs apart. You couldn't help it - you moaned loudly in response, wincing.

"I know what will fix that, baby," he sneered. A zipper sounded behind you as you heard him drop his jeans. Oh, what you would give to have him in your mouth right now, but you knew that wouldn't happen. That would have been a reward.

No. This was a punishment, whether he'd said it aloud or not. This was for the trouble earlier, at dinner. And he was teasing you by letting you hear exactly what you're missing.

A silent moan crept up at the thought, and before you could muffle it behind a hand, he had lifted you up on all fours, pulling your arms back behind you and holding them with one hand. You arched to fit his position, feeling his heavy length pressed up against your ass. The position was sinful - he had so much control over you, and his size was unmistakable against your body.

He reached around and slid his other hand's first two fingers into your mouth. You whined and sucked, lathing your tongue over the digits. "That's it, honey, there ya go," he chuckled darkly, rutting between your legs with a growing speed. He only teased his length, just enough to feed the embers of your desire without fully feeding any flames. It was torture, your body responding quickly to his movements.

The fingers in your mouth felt sinful as he leaned down to kiss along your shoulders, whispering about how filthy you were for provoking him. How he could feel your excitement between your legs, coating his cock and waiting for him to take.

"Please, daddy," you whined in desperate whispers. Your words came out muffled, but you whimpered and pushed back, grinding against him. "Please give me your cock!"

He moaned at your words and clasped his hand over your mouth before sheathing his full length inside you. The both of you swore, and what felt like hours of anticipation was satiated as you felt full.

So full and complete. You smiled, a quiet thank you escaping your lips as he began to piston in and out, his hand still covering your mouth. The other hand moved to grab your waist, anchoring him in place as he leaned over you and fucked into you over and over.

The feeling of his huge body on top of yours intensified everything - his hurried motions, his tight grip on your waist, the feeling of his hard length reaching so deep, his quiet groans and praises in your ear, the hand at your mouth demanding silence. His breath lay heavy on your neck as he pulled you to meet his every thrust, leaving you breathless and starstruck.

It was too much. You could feel yourself trembling, your thighs shaking. He grunted as you squeezed him and in turn, he quickly put his fingers back into your mouth, pulling even more pleasure from your lips. Whimpers spilled out around his fingers as he pumped them back and forth across your tongue, sending you over the edge. You came and he shuddered, your body constricting him as he filled you up, finishing inside. His hands fell to your sides, pulling you against him as he flipped the two of you over on your sides.

The both of you clasped hands, catching your breath. You remembered for the second time tonight that you were in your childhood room, the daze wearing off. You looked up at the ceiling and sighed happily, chest heaving.

"That was...." you began, at a loss for words. You looked over to see him smiling at you, those piercing eyes gazing at you in adoration. He brought your hand to his mouth, kissing it softly.

"Come on, baby. Daddy's gonna clean you up now," he laughed, picking you up off the bed and carrying you to the shower.

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seandwalsh · 10 months

Note

Where do the characters get the stuff they use In the Mario Kart Games from? And did the characters design the tracks that have their names?

I’m not quite sure what stuff you’re specifically referring to, but regardless, the answer is quite complicated. Assuming you’re talking about Karts and Items, the answer is “various places”.

Back in Super Mario Kart, while Mario was likely the one who organised, funded or at least initially proposed the event, Lakitu was the coordinator of the event, and ran the tracks. In the beginning they had more conservative rules surrounding the vehicles in use on the courses:

Hi everybody! Thanks for dropping by the Super Mario Kart race track. My name is Lakitu, I run this track. If you need my help, I'll be around. We race one seater, metal pipe frame go carts here. There are two engine sizes to choose from: 50cc or 100cc.

[Source: INTRODUCTION, Page 2, Instruction Booklet of Super Mario Kart, September 1992]

Mario Kart stated out a a fun recreational event with a handful of trophies. That’s the main reason the characters take part, and it has been the reason since the very beginning, in Super Mario Kart. Each one of the characters is competing due to their connection to Mario.

An adorable little kart racetrack has been built in the Mario world! Mario and his happy-go-lucky friends have gotten so enthusiastic about kart racing that they're already causing a ruckus! Even now, they're smack in the middle of a race! Let's take a quick peek at how it's going, shall we? Oh, it's just about to start! Even the usually cute characters look a little tense. Let's watch Mario and friends fight hard!

[Source: Intro, Japanese Store Promo for Super Mario Kart, August 1992]

However, in the years since it has become the Mushroom Kingdom’s premiere racing event and grown significantly. Racers from various Kingdoms take part resulting in an incredibly diverse audience. Mario Kart now has dozens of sponsors for each Grand Prix, extended tournaments, its own television network, branded tracks and inter-dimensional courses and guest racers.

Mario Kart 64 was the first major step in this direction, but Mario Kart: Double Dash!! brought things even further. From its manual:

THE MUSHROOM KINGDOM’S PREMIER RACING EVENT IS BACK! HOWEVER, THERE’S BEEN ONE MAJOR CHANGE TO THE RULES OF THE ROAD… THERE ARE NOW TWO RIDERS PER KART! NOW, RIDERS FROM THROUGHOUT THE LAND HAVE COME TOGETHER NO TEST THEIR DRIVING SKILLS. WHICH PAIR WILL PROVE THE FASTEST?

[Source: The Double Dash Grand Prix!, Page 6, Instruction Booklet of Mario Kart: Double Dash!!, November 2003]

When Mario Kart started out, standard Pipe Frames were the only legal builds for the Mario GP. These models were likely built by Mario and his friends themselves.

However, with Mario Kart: Double Dash!! the Pipe Frames were retired in favour of a variety of Karts. Many of these karts were custom-made or modified pre-existing cars. Take Luigi's kart of choice in Mario Kart DS, for example: the Poltergust 4000. This Kart is part of the Poltergust series, a line of inventions created by Professor E. Gadd.

Another pair of examples are the Wario Car, which Wario makes use of in Mario Kart: Double Dash!! and Mario Kart Arcade GP 2, and the Wario Bike, which Wario makes use of in Mario Kart Wii. These are Wario's personal car and bike, which he uses in the Wario Land and WarioWare titles, and both were built by Wario's friend Dr. Crygor:

I AM DR. CRYGOR, THE GENIUS SCHOLAR. OTHERS HAVE SAID A "DANGEROUS" SCHOLAR, BUT I PAY NO MIND TO THEIR OPINIONS. MY LABORATORY IS SET UP TO FURTHER MY EXPERIMENTS IN REALITY GAMES. FEEL FREE TO STOP BY AND CONTRIBUTE TO MY RESEARCH. IT IS QUITE FUN. DID YOU KNOW THAT I WAS THE ONE WHO CREATED WARIO'S CAR? WHAT? YOU DO NOT KNOW? DO YOUR RESEARCH!

[Source: The Laboratory Authority - Dr. Crygor, Page 21, Instruction Booklet of WarioWare, Inc.: Mega Microgame$!, May 2003]

This odd genius lives in seclusion. He built Wario’s bike. Mona’s moped, Kat’s sword, and Jimmy’s cell phone. He wears a cryogenic suit that doesn’t protect his head.

[Source: Dr. Crygor's character profile, WarioWare, Inc.: Mega Party Game$!, April 2004]

The Standard Kart series of builds was then introduced as a replacement for the Pipe Frame in Mario Kart Arcade GP 2 and carried into tournaments from Mario Kart DS onwards. As a result of this, in later tournaments, custom or pre-existing vehicles were allowed to enter the tournament upon being modified to be legal for the Grand Prix. The Pipe Frames did eventually return in tournaments from Mario Kart 7 onwards, which featured more in-depth kart customisation.

Speaking of which, the Mario Kart events are sponsored by other brands Mario owns, such as Mario Motors, Mario Star, etc. These sponsors, as well as the many others not otherwise connected to Mario, likely fund the events and even provide them with parts and supplies.

It stands to reason that Mushroom Piston Engines provides engines, Fuzzy Battery provides batteries, Bob-omb Plugs provides spark plugs, Dream Gliders provides gliders, 1-Up Fuel provides fuel, Bowser Oil provides oil, 100% Organic Antifreeze provides antifreeze, etc.

Mario Kart Arcade GP 2 makes reference to a Grand Prix Committee, which sends letters to Cup winners to invite them to the Cup’s special Challenge stage. Their letters are closed with an “M” stamped seal. This would imply Mario is at least on this committee, if not the head of it. This is presumably the committee that organises the events and decides which participants to invite, what items will be used, etc.

As mentioned previously, all of the participants either know Mario directly or have connections to people who know Mario. The Super Mario Kart manual seems to call attention to how each of the participant racers connect to Mario specifically.

MARIO & LUIGI The Mario Brothers have pretty much the same abilities in cart driving. Mario and Luigi have had a friendly rivalry that goes back to their childhood.

[Source: THE 8 CART DRIVERS, Page 21, Instruction Booklet of Super Mario Kart, September 1992]

PRINCESS & YOSHI At first, you might think that The Princess and Yoshi would have nothing in common (except their fondness for Mario).

[Source: THE 8 CART DRIVERS, Page 22, Instruction Booklet of Super Mario Kart, September 1992]

BOWSER & DONKEY KONG JR. These two drivers have long been Mario's arch enemies.

[Source: THE 8 CART DRIVERS, Page 23, Instruction Booklet of Super Mario Kart, September 1992]

While Toad and Koopa Troopa's descriptions don't specifically connect them to Mario, Toad is of course a long-time friend of Mario and servant to Peach, while Koopa Troopa is a minion of Bowser:

Usually a faithful underling of Bowser, [Koopa Troopa] shows even the big boss no mercy during a race.

[Source: Characters and Special Items, Page 20, Instruction Booklet of Mario Kart: Double Dash!!, November 2003]

Koopa Troopa, of the Turtle Tribe. Usually one of Bowser's minions, but as far as races go, it's a different story!?

[Source: Characters, Mario Kart Wii, Nintendo Co., Ltd. website]

In short, Mario is what brings them all together - and in turn they each bring their own special items. The iconic Banana Peels thrown by racers in the Mario Kart series are actually from the Kong's Banana Hoard on Donkey Kong Island, having originally been brought to the races by Donkey Kong Jr. back in Super Mario Kart:

Because of Donkey Kong Jr.! He likes bananas, and the peels are slippery, so they got the okay.

[Source: Tadashi Sugiyama, Director and C.G. Designer of Super Mario Kart, Nintendo Classic Mini: SNES developer interview – Volume 4: Super Mario Kart, September 2017]

In the original game, the only CPU-controlled character who throws banana peels is Donkey Kong Jr., which was a way to characterise the characters.

[Source: Hideki Konno, Director of Super Mario Kart, Nintendo Classic Mini: SNES developer interview – Volume 4: Super Mario Kart, September 2017]

Despite Donkey Kong Jr. not appearing in tournaments after Super Mario Kart, it seems his son, the current Donkey Kong, continued to supply Bananas from Mario Kart 64 onwards. Donkey Kong and Diddy Kong even brought along some Giant Bananas in Mario Kart: Double Dash!!, Mario Kart: Arcade GP 2 and Mario Kart Tour:

Special Item GIANT BANANA Only DK and Diddy know where these monstrous fruit can be found.

[Source: Characters and Special Items, Page 19, Instruction Booklet of Mario Kart: Double Dash!!, November 2003] From this we can speculate about the origins of other items. Shells are common clothing/armour worn by Koopas, but seeing as the shells in Mario Kart are standard Koopa Troopa Shells, it stands to reason that the Koopa Troopa racer or perhaps Bowser brought the Red Shells and Green Shells originally used in Super Mario Kart.

These shells are worn by Koopa Troopas, both within and outside of Bowser's Army. We can even see one of Bowser's Airships in Super Mario Galaxy equipped with a shell dispenser:

The Green Shells and Red Shells even function how you'd expect - with Green Shells flying straight forward and Red Shells heading towards the nearest target!

However, with the expansion of Mario Kart in later titles the shells, which are mass-produced, appear to be provided by a company, with sponsors for "Green Shell Strike Equipment" and "Red Shell Strike Equipment" making appearances:

Koopa Troopa and Koopa Paratroopa seem to have their own supply in Mario Kart: Double Dash!!:

Special Items TRIPLE SHELLS (GREEN / RED) Don't let Koopa and Paratroopa worry about not having enough shells.

[Source: Characters and Special Items, Page 20, Instruction Booklet of Mario Kart: Double Dash!!, November 2003]

Bowser also provides his own shells for the tournaments in Mario Kart: Double Dash!!, Mario Kart: Arcade GP 2 and Mario Kart Tour:

Bowser's Shell This big ol' shell on loan from Bowser will crash any karts it hits and keep on going. It can only be thrown forward.

[Source: Items, Tips and Tricks, Mario Kart Tour, September 2019]

On the topic of items, Super Mario Kart used ? Panels to dispense its items. These panels are likely made by the same people in the Mushroom Kingdom who make ? Blocks. While they weren't used in later Mario Kart tournaments, they have still made a few other appearances since, such as in Mario Party 9.

From the Mario Kart 64 Mario GP onwards the ? Panels were replaced with the iconic Item Boxes, which were likely much more convenient for transportation and addition to the racetracks. But it wasn't until Mario Kart Wii where we actually learned where these come from, through the course Toad's Factory.

This is actually the Item Box Factory, as we can see not only from the trackside banners with the Item Box logo and giant sign of Toad with an Item Box, but from the shipping containers with items ready to go into the Item Boxes:

Inside the factory, we can even see the process of how Item Boxes are made. The Items are put inside standard Brick Blocks, before the Brick Blocks are placed on a conveyor belt with stamps of some sort. These stamps appear to be filled with some sort of magical rainbow liquid, likely sourced from Power Stars, which transforms the Brick Blocks into the Item Boxes, giving them their translucent rainbow appearance and their ability to float:

Circling back to the Kongs for a moment, Funky Kong is actually the one responsible for the construction of the DK Barrel Cannons featured prominently throughout Mario Kart courses.

We learn this when Donkey Kong mentions Funky in the context of their creation in Mario Super Sluggers:

Oooook! (Looks like Funky Kong has been busy.)

[Source: Donkey Kong, Best Friend of Funky Kong, Playable Character in Mario Super Sluggers, August 2008]

This isn't all too surprising though, given Funky Kong's previous barrel-based mechanic work and his appearances in Mario Kart Wii and Mario Kart Tour, as well as the barrel-inspired Funky Stadium which he presumably also built:

Speaking of which, it's about time I discuss the stadiums, circuits and other courses and where they came from!

Mario is world-famous and incredibly wealthy from his adventures, businesses and sports stardom. Multiple of the circuits in the games are also clearly built by him or at least in honour of him. He‘s the only character with actual circuits named after him in Super Mario Kart:

State-of-the-art racetracks in the Mario world that are rich in variety. The effectiveness of the pipe obstacles is the key.

[Source: Mario Circuit's description, Japanese Store Promo for Super Mario Kart, August 1992]

Mario Circuits have also been described as the primary circuits of their respective Grand Prix:

Mario Circuit This is the main circuit in Mario Kart: Double Dash!! Familiar denizens of the Mushroom Kingdom can be spotted here and there. The road's filled with curves, so this is a good place to practice drifting.

[Source: Courses, Page 31, Instruction Booklet of Mario Kart: Double Dash!!, November 2003]

It stands to reason that most characters had a hand in designing the tracks that bear their names. In fact we know that's the case for several courses, such as N64 Wario Stadium:

That rascal Wario was in charge of the design and construction of this course. A fan of motocross races, he brought in major amounts of sand to fill this huge stadium in an attempt to build a course more suitable to bikes than Karts. Each lap's distance is extremely long, making it difficult to stay concentrated on the race.

[Source: MARIO KART 64 COURSE MAPS, Page 30, Instruction Booklet of Mario Kart 64, February 1997]

Meanwhile the Bowser's Castle courses are modified from or otherwise based on the real Bowser's Castle:

Surprisingly, the Bowser's Castle has been transformed into a race ground! Because it's inside the building, most of the corners are tricky right angles. However, the most difficult part of the course is where the Thwomps are. They will block your path, and if you run into one, you will spin out. Should you be stepped by one, you'll find yourself squished flat as a pancake.

[Source: MARIO KART 64 COURSE MAPS, Page 31, Instruction Booklet of Mario Kart 64, February 1997]

Bowser typically designs his courses with the help of his minions to be filled with traps in the hopes of beating Mario. This goes beyond the Mario Kart tracks and also applies to his Tennis Courts, Golf Courses, etc.:

Lord Bowser designed his course to defeat Mario, so it’s kinda full of lava and bombs and stuff like that.

[Source: Spiny, Minion of Bowser, Non-player Character in Mario Golf: Super Rush, June 2021]

Bowser enlisted his minions to create this course in hopes of defeating Mario with all the traps and hazards.

[Source: Koopa Troopa, Minion of Bowser, Non-player Character in Mario Golf: Super Rush, June 2021]

However, this isn't universally the case. For example, Peach Beach is merely Princess Peach's favourite beach resort in the Southern Isles, while Toad's Turnpike is on a public road in Toad City!

I could go on and on about the Mario Kart series and the depth to its worldbuilding, but I think that's quite enough for today. Thank you for reading!

#mario lore #super mario #mario kart #donkey kong

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lovelykhaleesiii · 11 months

Note

“have a little trust in yourself, i know you can take it.”

for aegon, obviously 🥹🥹🥹 i’m just obsessed with this man. i just want him to talk her through it ksjshs

Aegon ii SMUT Prompt #2

pairing: Aegon ii Targaryen x wife!fem!Reader

warnings: mentions of arranged marriage, p in v sex, size kink (?), swearing, NSFW.

a/n - apologies I was slowly starting to doze off writing this, so forgive me if there are mistakes, I will come back to them to edit!

smut prompts - for Aegon ii | Aemond

Upon hearing of your haste betrothal to Prince Aegon, the Second of his Name, you were fuelled with twisted emotions of both excitement and fear. Many ladies and men of the court had much to say about your husband to be, the good, the bad and the ugly, especially the young maidens…

“The Prince is known for his peculiar tastes and insatiable drive to fuck.”

“He’ll fuck anyone that has a nice pair of tits or an eager cunt...Or both, if he pleases.”

“Apparently so, the Prince’s cock is said to be twice as thick as that of an average man…”

Nonetheless, all the ceaseless babbling and ramblings of your betrothed sent your mind into a frenzy. Right up until the last minute, you were desperately trying to milk every fine detail of Aegon and his sexual proclivities, from the young maidens of court. Anticipating the truth…

The wedding a success, not a single flaw or adversity faced. The plans and effort that went into the royal wedding went accordingly, almost as if it was destined to be… You’d spoken to Aegon briefly in fleeting moments where you found yourselves immersed in each other’s company, and much to your surprise [and relief], he seemed rather withdrawn and reserved. Still polite, he openly would refer to you as his “wife”, held your hand without hesitation and even went so far as to initiate kisses. All publicly of course, for since the day has began, you’d both been the centre of attention. That was until the night of consummation was upon you.

Aegon decreed that no witnesses be present during the act itself, it seemed he did not think an audience necessary, and many entrusted that he would certainly get the job done. This only worried you once more, until your maidens that had prepped you for the night would reassure you otherwise.

Regardless, the moment Aegon had stepped in following you from the celebratory feast, confidence mindlessly oozing from his stride, his fave remained stoic and yet his eyes lusting over the sheer material that draped and cloaked your body.

You wouldn’t have been surprised if he could just feel the nerves palpating from your body. After all, you were a maiden as expected… However, he did not seem phased by the night at all, nor that he was hesitant in stripping himself naked just before hist waist [keeping his pantaloons on, yet undone], and ripping apart your nightly gown.

You could make out a fairly large bulge beneath the restricting material of his pants between his thighs. The shape and the mould of it, recognisable, it looked painfully big and dense.

As if he’d caught you in the act of perving at his hardened cock, a smirk brewed across his handsome face, as he teasingly questioned, “Like what you see?”

[Indeed you did]

No words could fathom in your mind, nor could your mouth coordinate to speak. Instead, you exchanged a shy, meek nod of your head, as he gently laid you down on the smooth, silk linen sprawled across the plush bed.

“Such a good girl for me. My pretty wife, already so obedient for me. Seven Hells, have the Gods blessed me abundantly with you.”

Pulling his pants down low enough, his thick, solid cock plunges out, bursting with excitement at the sheer thought of fucking you. Hard undoubtedly, as he presses it down against the low, soft pit of your stomach, oozing pre-cum at its throbbing tip, as he gently polishes it over your skin, now glistening in the dim light.

Although, sparing a few seconds to gaze upon his cock, you notice just how thick and girthy it is. Your body and heart aches for it to be thrusted and shoved inside of you, a dull ache brewing intently in your sweet spot between your thighs. However, your mind pondered over the great certainty that this will hurt, and the pain would be agonising, and it seemed your face did not mask the fear well enough…

“Have a little trust in yourself, I know you can take it.”

Caressing your tender, worrisome face with his rough hand, gliding a misplaced strand of hair away from your face, a wave of reassurance washed over. And again, you nod graciously to his words. Seeing how tender and effortless Aegon was at making you feel this way, you felt the urge to sate him, to please him, to fulfill the duty as his wife, as best as possible.

“Spread your legs a little more, baby. You need to make room for me- That’s it baby, such a good fucking girl- Take a few deep breaths for me, just relax-”

Within a few short seconds, the wet tip that was just teasingly stroking over the entrance of your folds, find it’s sharp way piercing through, stretching your tight, tight walls beyond relief for a few, solid minutes. You could feel his cock, hitting at your cervix, igniting a lightning bolt to coarse rapidly throughout the fibres of your entire being.

The moan that escaped Aegon’s mouth was one of pleasure, whereas yours was shriek of pain, yet you craved for more. Feeling himself burying his hard, thick cock deeper between your stretched out walls, his thrusts pacing slow and steady as he allowed you to adjust to his size.

“Fuck that feels so, so good. This pretty, little cunt was made just for me baby- I’m going to ruin you bit by bit.”

The breathing became more dense and heavy, slowly syncing with one another, the sweat beginning to emit from your skin. Bare bodies colliding rhythmically with each other, you felt your insides burning with discomfort and lust.

“Buck your hips forward baby, like this-”

Swiftly, as he steadied himself on his knees, his hands firmly gripped your waist, mindlessly manhandling you as he repositioned your hips, presumably teaching you for next time.

“Ughhh- That’s it, baby- Stay like this for me- Now moan for your husband, say my fucking name for the realm to hear… Let them know exactly who you belong to now and for eternity.”

#aegon ii targaryen #tom glynn carney #TGC #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen imagine #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii targaryen imagines #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii x fem!reader #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon ii targaryen fluff #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd imagines #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic rec #hotd fanfiction

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ceebit · 1 year

Text

⸺ ۫ ⟡ SMALL ACTS OF INTIMACY

ft. bang chan, lee know, changbin, + hyunjin

note : ‘cece, why are we writing about snow when summer is around the corner?’ i’m so glad you asked ! it was 48 degrees this morning. take that as you will.

chan – routine is dropping both his bags and his career at the front door, shoes discarded and worries momentarily forgotten once the smell of your favorite food hits his nose. it’s a bit chilly in the apartment–you’ve probably opened the windows to let some air in again–but he doesn’t mind. he follows the stream of light into the kitchen where he finds you faintly humming the tune of a discarded project (his heart swells with a sudden burst of affection), standing over something hot on the stove. wanting to see you in your element, he waits a moment before letting himself be known.

he purposely buys clothing in a size one too big on him, partly for the comfort of being swaddled, and partly for his shameless liking to pretend not to notice your liking to taking his clothes. you stand in the kitchen, at ease with black hoodie number-whatever just barely brushing past your thighs, but he doesn’t care. it’s the thought that counts, doesn’t it? it’s cause you missed him, didn't you?

routine is seeing your face light up each time you catch him peeking around the archway, grinning in the face of his sheepishness at getting caught over and over again. his arms circle around your waist, his hello faint. warmth was always near with you—even when you remember the open window once you feel him shiver.

minho – fingers tangle with yours in an uncharacteristic show of nerves, face vacant of anything other than cool indifference. hidden underneath the table, away from the prying eyes of the public, you squeeze his hand in hopes to ease his mind about the dinner reservation with your parents—they’ve been wanting to meet you for a while now, you’d told him a way’s back. you were met with a small smile and a minho-esque comment about bringing flowers, laughing as he hounded you for wanting to impress your mother. the flowers sit next to him now, wrapped in parchment paper, but his antsiness persists still.

you don’t blame him for being nervous, even if he’d vehemently deny it up, down, right, and center. meeting the parents was always a big step—and knowing you both would be watched was enough to also want to hide under the table like a small child—but he’d wanted to be there. wanted to make a good impression.

your thumb brushes over the back of his hand in what you hope comes off as a soothing gesture. he meets your gaze for a moment, eyes roaming over your features, and squeezes back gently in response. he brings your intertwined hands up for a kiss against the back of your hand. sharing a smile, unbeknownst to your audience of two watching the two of you in your element with matching fond looks from a few feet away.

changbin – frustration seeps at the edges of your sanity, cold and unwelcoming. deadline after deadline piles upon your shoulders, forcing healthy habit after habit to be pushed further into the darkest corners of your mind to rust. lunch breaks become extra time to squeeze in just a few more letters to reach that word count, and your somewhat feeble attempt at a nighttime routine gives way to the few hours you’re even lucky enough to snag.

you don’t mean to push hangouts or leisure activities away, either. your texts are one-worded or forgotten with a reply unfinished in the bar, calls short with clear exhaustion seeping through your voice alone. he knows you don’t mean it. your space is your space regardless of if you fall back into your old ways.

so he leaves snacks where he knows you’ll see them, water bottles with post-it notes of shakily drawn smiley faces at the ends of words of encouragement or reminders to go outside for ten minutes or something funny jisung said at work he knew would make you laugh. he knows you’re sorry, that work is work and will forever be ever demanding, but he hopes you know he’s here for you through the sticky notes and crudely drawn doodles you now keep in a desk drawer safe and sound.

hyunjin – the cold weather sits as heavy as the piles of snow shoveled to the streets to clear the sidewalks, gusts of wind sharp to the touch against your skin even underneath your hat and thick gloves. you don’t even remember why you let yourself be persuaded to leave bed at this hour–but you certainly couldn’t forget the what. he’d been adamant about leaving your comfortably warm apartment for… for what, exactly? a surprise, he’d quip back with a grin, smile wide enough to make one spread across your lips as well. damn him for being cute enough to forgo a night of well deserved cuddling under the thickest blanket you owned.

hands shoved in his pockets, he squeezes your fingers excitedly, but looks over in concern when your hands begin to shake from the cold. his nose scrunches up in distaste, tinged a bit red from chill himself, and before you even think to open your mouth to poke fun at his sudden rudolph cosplay, he unwraps his scarf and begins to wrap it around your neck. your protests fall upon stubborn ears, and you can’t help but laugh when he glares at your attempt to unravel the little bow at the end.

his gaze softens, even as his shoulders bunch up from the loss of warmth. snow litters the ground in soft flakes, landing on your hat and your coat. surprise forgotten, he takes comfort in the welcome feeling of your head resting against his shoulder in content.

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author-morgan · 11 months

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Title: Riverside Rating: M Pairing: Harald Finehair x fem!Reader (and Halfdan the Black) Summary: Harald Finehair may be a fool, but at least he has his brother, and at least he has you. ❤️plot bunny that's been collecting dust for two years by @mrsragnarlodbrok ❤️

down by the river by the boats, where everybody goes to be alone

“YOUR BROTHER IS a fool,” you remark, watching Harald Finehair slip away with the princess who once promised to be his queen—the woman whose husband had only just been murdered in the early hours of the morn. Halfdan the Black watches his brother too, lips twitching as he lifts his cup of ale, taking a short quaff of the weak brew. He’ll be glad to leave England—an army of this size meant dwindling supplies, game, and ever-weakening ale and mead.

He picks off another hunk of meat from a roast pheasant. “Is that meant to be news?” Halfdan asks in turn, smiling as he flicks his stringy blond hair aside and out of his eyes—his dark gaze flitting back to you. Harald’s always been a fool when it comes to women and love, and Halfdan doubts time and age will ever change that.

“Halfdan,” you chide. Harald is a fool—a fool for thinking Ellisif would wait for him, a fool for killing Vik so crassly in the heart of the camp. You both know he is, but watching Princess Ellisif slip away with her husband’s killer makes you uneasy. Grief and the thought of vengeance would not have left her mind yet. And such things can drive people to act in unpredictable ways. “You don’t think it’s odd she wishes to seek a private audience with him only a few hours after he killed her husband?”

Halfdan raises his brow—the blue-black ink of the tattoo on his temple and forehead twitches and wrinkles. At the moment, he’s more content with filling his belly and entertaining your company than fretting over his brother, yet you won’t let the subject rest so easily, and deep down, Halfdan knows you are right, as is the feeling of dread in his liver. “Had it been me, the thought of retribution would not yet be gone, nor the fog of dolor.”

You make a convincing case, and with a sighing frown, Halfdan pushes away from the table and you, heading toward Harald’s tent—hand resting on the hilt of his sword, knowing already he will have to serve as his brother’s protector once more. A moment later, Halfdan emerges from his brother’s pavilion. The sword in his hand is coated with blood, bright and red. And it would seem, after all, he knew women far better than his brother—or at least how to listen to you.

He frees a cloth from his belt and slides it down the blade, cleaning it with a single long swipe as he looks at you, watching and waiting. Halfdan doesn’t have to say anything as he approaches for you to know, but regardless, your lips quirk upward. “Told you,” you declare, and he makes a low sound of agreement from the back of his throat, taking the cup of ale you offer. You knew Ellisif would not have so easily nor quickly forgiven Harald for his transgression, especially after not upholding her promise to wait for marriage.

Harald’s curses and fit of rage ring out in the brisk air. You know there’s little that can soothe his heart and pride, but if anyone in the Ragnarsson encampment can make an earnest attempt, it is you—Halfdan knows this too. “I’ll see to him,” you breathe, taking one last drink of ale. Halfdan grips your arm before you can go to his brother and leans close, offering a soft, quick kiss over too soon.

THE RIVER FLOWS slowly, given its breadth near the encampment of the Sons of Ragnar—a hundred longships are pushed up against the banks and moored in the water. Together, you and Harald walk along the water’s edge, heading north, where fewer ships and wandering eyes and ears are. The blood on his hands and chest is nigh dry, and it makes his red woolen tunic stick to him and stiffens his silver-tinged beard.

Harald Finehair looks at you but cannot dispel what you must think of him, of these circumstances—your expression is only a cool mix of solicitude and what he thinks is annoyance. Yet again, he finds himself failing to understand the mind and heart of a woman—one he has known since childhood, no less. “My brother is lucky,” Harald admits, feeling a spike of jealousy stab at him as he thinks about you and Halfdan, “to have only ever loved you.” But had he ever truly loved Ellisif beyond his desire for her beauty? Even he is not sure of the answer.

You stop near the prowl of one of Jarl Olavsson’s ships—his shields and sails marked by white and dark green—and stare at Harald, aghast and confused by his insinuation. “Do I no longer have your love?” You ask, reaching for him and the leather ties at the neck of his tunic.

“I had thought–” his voice trails off as he looks at the flock of blackbirds flying overhead, unsure if it is a sign from the gods or just an ill omen. He lets you draw him nearer, but it’s only when the flat of your hand connects with his bloody cheek that his gaze and attention return to you—his stormy blue eyes filled with bewilderment and indignation. He stares at you, nostrils flared.

“No, Harald!” You’ve finally grown exasperated by his foolishness—you could tolerate his laments about love and marriage, but to nigh let himself be killed by a recreant woman under such circumstances? “You didn’t think!” You tell him, and Harald steps back, hands curling to fists at his sides. He needs to hear this, though, if not from his brother, then from you. “And if you did, it was with the wrong head.” The same head all men think with first when it comes to women.

“You speak to a king,” he reminds you, puffing out his chest—a weak reply, and you both know it.

You shake your head and reach for him, hands settling on either side of his blood-spattered face—thumbs following the blue-black scrollwork of the tattoos on his cheeks. “And I am also speaking to one of my oldest friends,” you remind him. King or no, Harald and his brother are among your oldest and dearest friends—they could be little more than farmers or simple whalers, and you would think no less of them nor love them less. There’s a shift in Harald’s expression then, as though he realizes the error of his ways in disregarding your and Halfdan’s counsel, and hubris fades to humility. “One whom I care for and love very much.” Love, the word catches him off-guard. Then an ephemeral smile returns to grace your lips. “Even if he is pigheaded at times.”

He forces down the growing knot in his throat. “My brother–” Harald starts, but you press your fingertips to his weathered lips, shushing him and chasing away any apprehension or fear of driving a rift between the three of you with what comes next. “Halfdan knows,” you tell Harald with airy unconcern—fingers slipping down to comb through his silver-tinged wiry beard. Your trysts had never been clandestine, even before whatever this unspoken thing with his brother began before the first raid on Paris. “He’s very astute,” you remark, the corner of your lips quirking upward again. “You could stand to learn a thing to two.”

He huffs, then goes to the river, shrugging off his tunic, and kneels at the water’s edge, splashing the cold water on his face and chest—scrubbing the drying blood of the woman he once intended to marry. He stares at his reflection, shoulders falling forward, accepting his ill-fated pursuit of marriage and defeat, alas. “I’ve been a fool,” he grumbles. You crouch next to him, dipping your hand in the river to help wash the blood from his shoulders and the back of his neck, humming your agreement—gladdened to know it is no longer a whispered secret between you and Halfdan. “You’re not supposed to agree with me,” he admonishes, mirth slipping back into his tone.

There’s a scar on his shoulder, and without thought, you lean toward him, placing the gentlest and quickest of kisses on the raised patch of silvery skin. You can recall how he and Halfdan have gotten most of their scars, but the history of this small mark evades you right now. When you meet his eyes, you see him staring at you with a look of raw hunger and desperation you’re entirely unprepared for, and it sends a wave of heat washing over you. But he’s so gentle when he handles you—even in all his lingering anger and hurt.

He holds your chin until his thumb swipes across your flushed cheek—always touching you like you’re some fragile, precious thing and not a shieldmaiden—and then his lips part, and he exhales a shaky breath, waiting for your permission, spoken or otherwise. You give it with a breathy sigh of his name. Harald. His warm breath hits your cheek, followed by the faint tickle of his scraggly beard at your jaw before his lips are fully on yours. “Let me have you.” His plea is soft against your mouth—and you cannot deny him.

Skirts rucked up around your waist, Harald grips your hips, drawing you closer to him until his wool and linen-clad thigh presses between yours. His touch is fervent—hot palms, calloused from years of battle, scrape over the bare skin they touch. His tongue sweeps across your bottom lip before kissing you—languid and soft. Your hands grasp at his back to pull his chest to your own. And then he fumbles to loosen his belt, but you knock away his hands, and Harald curses and groans when your hand slides into his undone britches, fingers wrapping around his half-hard cock—stroking him.

Your stomach flutters as his fingers caress you briefly, fleetingly—but gone far too soon. Your hips move towards his touch, but now is not the time for drawn-out caresses and teasing. In truth, he's not focused on your pleasure but more on his desire.

Harald pushes forward, rocking his hips slowly until his cock is fully sheathed inside the warmth of your cunt, and his hips meet yours. You gasp, somewhere between a whine and moan, head tipping back, and Harald takes the chance to press his lips to the base of your neck. He’s gentle as he trails a hand down your side and holds your waist—he and Halfdan have always been two sides of the same coin as lovers.

You lay back—letting him do as he pleases. He needs this moment, this release, far more than you do. His thrusts start slow, lazy almost, as though you’ve all the time in the world—like you’re back in Tamdrup on a spring night in a patch of wildflowers or bale of loose straw in a stable, not lying on a muddy English riverbank on the verge of another battle—not knowing if tomorrow will be the day Valhalla beckons you home.

He looks down at you—splayed beneath him and his gut twists with a sickening realization. I’ve been a fool, Harald thinks again, cradling your cheek, the rough pad of his thumb pressed against your parted lips, chasing a woman who could never love me. But you. It did not matter what misfortunes or victories the gods bestowed upon him. You were always there—never faltering from your place at his and Halfdan’s side. He’s only ashamed not to have realized or acted sooner.

Your legs spread wider to welcome him, squeezing at his shoulders to urge him to move faster. Every push and pull of his hips brings him deeper inside you. Harald pants at your ear, his breathing ragged and strained as his pace falters—thrusts growing quicker and rougher as he seeks release. Beneath your palms, the muscles in his back ripple, contracting with each thrust. His lips find yours again, and you pull him down closer until his bare chest presses against the rumpled wool of your dress bodice—nails scraping across his shoulders and the patchwork of tattoos on his shoulder blades.

The look in Harald’s eyes is nigh unsettling—a mix of emotion you do not wish to think about in this moment of lust and carnality—and you squeeze at his biceps, urging him to move faster, and when his trance breaks, he obliges. He breathes hushed praises against your neck and strokes a thumb over the racing pulse in your neck as he rolls his hips up into yours—strokes long and deep.

You whine and squirm for him, grinding your hips into his. The next time he moves, his cock strikes the place inside you that makes you cry out without thinking, and your toes start to curl—he does it again and again, thrice over. “Harald.” He works himself deeper still, pelvis rubbing against your clit, and he doesn’t miss the shiver that goes through you or the way your muscles tense—cunt squeezing his cock tighter. His breathy, open-mouth kisses grow sloven as you fumble to keep in rhythm, your movements slack—distracted by the fog of ecstasy in your head.

Breath hot against your lips, his eyes drift shut in unison with yours. Behind closed eyes, all that triumphs is the feel of your bodies sinking into each other. He will not last much longer. Harald barely manages a coherent rasp of your name, teeth gnashing, when his entire body shivers and he stills deep, deep inside, cock twitching.

His livid eyes are dark, like a stormy sea when they open once more, and there’s a crease between his brows that you have a yearning impulse to kiss away—and so you do, and in the wake of your lips, you smooth your fingertips over his brow. “I do love you, Harald,” you tell him—a breathless whisper—and suddenly, the knot in his throat and the offbeat feeling in his heart is back. “Just as I love Halfdan.”

He says nothing, only rests his forehead against your shoulder and shivers when your hand runs along his back, finding his dark braid to run your fingers along. But there’s a new dampness on your flesh—tears for love lost and love found.

HIS TEMPER IS quelled upon returning to the encampment, even if his heart has yet to mend. Halfdan rises from his spot at one of the fires, leaving the waning conversation with Björn Ironside when he sees you and his brother approach. The whispers around the camp of what happened between Harald, Vik, and Ellisif have already faded with new discussions of the army’s next move in Mercia—steadily creeping closer to Wessex and retribution upon King Ecbert for his part in Ragnar’s death. Harald swallows his pride and glimpses you before turning his attention to Halfdan. “Thank you, brother,” he says. “Yet again, I owe you my life.”

“I’ll always watch your back,” Halfdan replies, pressing a cup of ale into Harald’s hand before clasping his shoulder—then his gaze flits to you, and he smiles, a glimmer shining in his dark eyes. “But next time we tell you to kill someone, you should listen, yeah?” Harald shakes his head, looking down into the cup of ale with a dry laugh. You both told him to rid himself of Ellisif before setting sail to England. He should have listened then—knows he was a fool not to have. But once more, it is the three of you, and maybe that is how the gods always intended it to be.

[Harald & Halfdan taglist: @ahotmesswithprivilege / @alicedopey / @certifiedlittleshit / @charming-merlin / @elluvians / @erzsebetrosztoczy / @gearhead66 / @gossamarnie / @hc-geralt-23 / @kaexiao / @midnightmuze / @moonlightsspirit / @n0sferatus / @naaladareia / @queenfinehair / @queenyalo / @savagemickey03 / @xinyourdreamsx / @yalos-writing ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Vikings taglist, or any other taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

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bluepandastarfish · 22 days

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A Siren's Performance.

Warnings: anxiety, general threatening imagery, ACOTAR stuffs, a moment that slightly hints at smut.

A/N- hello! This is my first time tryna write in this narrative and about ACOTAR so give me some leway if things are off. Characterisation probably is off so try your best to look past that. I will likely do a part 2 to this, enjoy!

@myfictionaldreams as promised a tag 🙂

_________________________________________

You had visited nearly Prythian by the young age of 53. Unfortunately, that meant that during the time of Amaratha’s reign, which was all she knew due to being born during it, she drew some unwanted attention by visiting courts. It seemed at the time that Amarantha suspected you were trying to bring the court's morale up in order for them to come together and revolt which ultimately ended in you having to stay under the mountain for the last few years of her reign.

Having sung for nearly every court and high Lord in Prythian, one would think you wouldn't be so nervous. This celebration would be one of the smaller performances you'd done although the size of the audience is not what concerns you. The rumors about the ruthless night court and the Lord who rules with equal fearlessness and cruelty- one of the only redeeming features of the place in your eyes being his high lady who is said to have defended Prythian fiercely during the war with Highburn. The high Lord filled you with fear, not only due to the reputation of his court but also because of the hideous things you had seen him do under the mountain.

Being invited to perform for the little prince of the night court was definitely something worth being nervous over, despite the fact it was also a great honor.

Walking toward the gates of Hewn City does not help your impending anxiety as the grand structures seem shrouded in shadows as if the light itself were afraid to touch them. The atmosphere here is much different from your residence in the Day Court, where the place seemed to radiate a sort of comfortable atmosphere regardless of where you found yourself. If you were honest it is quite a jarring difference to be faced with such darkness after becoming used to the sun and light every waking moment.

The guards assigned to bring you to where the celebration was being held wasted no time searching you and your escorts very thoroughly at the entrance to a large building. Honestly the whole process of traveling would have been much more comfortable and easy if winnowing were an option, but like most other courts there were measures in place to keep people out. And upon being allowed to enter, began the predatory stares from higher ranking males. It was not necessarily that you were gorgeous, although all fae were and you certainly did not get the short end of any stick, more so that you had an air of power around you that was unusual for any woman aside from the high lady to possess. That made you a target to many.

It was easy enough to look past the collection of onlookers in the entryway and glancing over the crowd through the intimidating doors to the throne room where the party was being held, you could see the imposing figures sat on equally imposing thrones toward the back wall of the room. The pair of mates sat in thrones of twisting beastly sculptures, which seemed to add 4 sets of eyes that watched you and your small group as you entered. The high Lord held gently to the hand of his high lady on the armrest of her chair, having both chairs be relatively close so he did not have to lean, as he watched you enter with piercing purple eyes. The high lady was much the same, strangely her eyes on you made you feel more nervous then the high lords. She held the Prince in her arms, he seemed much too preoccupied with batting the feels dangling from his mother's necklace to notice you entering, or to notice anything else at all really.

After a moment the high Lord turned his head slightly to the side, still not breaking his gaze from your body and seemed to smirk slightly although they were quite far so you thought you must have mistook his expression. His mouth moved as if saying something and a millisecond after, you heard a disembodied voice that you could not pinpoint the source of.

‘she does not quite seem the alluring siren you told me about’

Your Daemati gifts had never been strong enough to present themselves so clearly, most of the time you kept them strictly out of use because without being taught to handle them properly you could hear every thought in the room collided into one scrambled mess, clearly they were choosing now to act up. You sigh quietly to yourself and walk absentmindedly out of the entryway to lean on the wall beside, trying your best to focus on shutting out thoughts that were not your own.

‘she hasn't had the chance to do anything yet, oh so patient husband of mine’

Another disembodied voice, female this time and with a strong hint of sarcasm at the nickname used. You dread to think you were invading the high Lord and lady conversation, knowing they'd surely have your head on a like for such eavesdropping. You take a deep breath quietly and close your eyes momentarily, blocking out the crowd around you and trying to focus on closing off your mind. After a moment you smiled to yourself slightly because you could no longer hear any voices that were not your own, that smile quickly dropped when a low inquisitive hum was heard drawling almost loud enough in your head to cause an ache.

You snapped your eyes open at the noise, instantly looking up to the Lord and lady only to find them both watching you with equal unreadable expressions. The high lord's eyes were darker as he stared into yours, his eyebrows furrowed slightly while the high lady had her eyes narrowed with her only hint of tenderness being the hand she used to stroke her son's back gently as he rested on her lap.

You swallowed and looked down at your feet, not that you could see them shrouded in the blue skirt you wore, and began to fiddle with a stray stitch at the waist of your dress and praying silently that you'd be asked to begin your performance soon so you could leave. You nibble at the skin on your lip as you feel a strange, but not unpleasant, touch on your mind. It felt like a hand brushing something inside you and for a moment you debated looking up at the high Lord and lady again, but ultimately decided it would be better if you pretended you couldn't feel anything.

A chuckle was heard echoing inside your head, feminine again so likely the high lady.

‘She meant no harm, Rhys.’

A deep and unpleasant grumble was heard in return as you felt hands glide through your mind like a flipbook. Your eyebrows furrowed slightly at the unusual feeling, having no idea how to push those invisible hands out left you feeling quite defenseless against the pressure on your mind left you feeling vulnerable and powerless against the two.

‘won't you respond to us, siren?’

The high Lords voice, although teasing, held a slight edge to it and you knew a flirty response or meek apology would not get you out of the situation you were currently in. You blink rapidly as the hands carding through your thoughts turn gentler, softer and less present. The touch was teasing and in an almost sultry way they glided over sensitive memories, memories that made your breath hitch and your dress feel too tight all of a sudden.

Both faes laughter echoed in your mind as they seemed to sense your physical reaction to their gentle prodding and suddenly a short flash greeted your vision, revealing something you were not sure was your own. It was like a single blink or quickly passing image. The high lady glancing down at you while you braced yourself on your knees in front of her throne, the high Lord at her side with his hand grasping her bare thigh.

A gasp from the high lady and the image was gone, hands retreating from your mind.

Your mind was able to focus again on the powerful couple across the room, both looking at you with a slightly shocked expression and barely managing to hide their feelings behind masks of indifference. You saw, even from this far, how the high Lord took a silent, heavy breath and grasped his wife's hand firmer before the words echoed once more through your mind.

‘Now, how did you do that?’

Only now you were unable to tell how he was feeling, making the question scarier. You clench your jaw to keep it from trembling at your quickly rising levels of fear and answer him simply through your mind:

‘I don't know, I am sorry high Lord’

Breathing came in short spurts as no response came, the crowd still unaware of whatever conversation was going on between the three of you. The high Lord kept eye contact with you as his wife chose to busy herself with the infant in her lap, leaving him to determine and deal with the situation.

His expression lightened as he leaned back slightly, relief instantly filled you. He could clearly tell you were lying, and cauldron knows what they think and know about you now that they've been fiddling around inside your head. But at least now they seem less tense and unreadable. Seconds of silence and anxious, yet calmer, thoughts were dragged out before the quiet demand came from the high Lord.

‘time for your performance, siren’

#feysand x reader #feysand #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand x reader #feyre x rhysand #feyre x reader #nyx archeron

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chaifootsteps · 2 months

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Sorry I gotta vent about what I perceive as a huge goddamn plot hole in helluva boss-specifically the episode “OOPS” b/c like…

Why the hell was Blitzø not able to give Fizz the card?? Why did he throw it on the ground and walk away??? Like, he goes to Fizz’s birthday party, Fizz is OBVIOUSLY very happy to see him, and then Blitzø just??? Walks away???

The ONLY thing I can think of is that Blitzø had low self esteem at that point/maybe didn’t think he was good enough for Fizz? and that’s hinted at with the “wish you were my son” card buckzo gives fizz but like??? I don’t know am I going crazy? Is this actually a “media literacy” situation and I’m just missing something???

And b/c of all the retcons of season 1 and season 1’s character development, there’s very little we actually get to SEE of young Blitzø’s life and how he developed his sense of self hatred that may lead to him walking away from Fizz like that, especially when Fizz is so clearly happy to see him. It’s not too hard to fill in the blanks, but regardless it seems like the scene with Blitzo throwing down the card and starting the fire was only set up that way so the writers could put in a weird misunderstanding as the crux of the conflict between Fizz and Blitz.

It’s like they’re saying “don’t worry audience! Nothing actually complicated happened. It was all just a big misunderstanding. Blitz actually wanted to confess his feelings to Fizz but couldn’t and accidentally set the circus on fire! The only reason the two of them didn’t make amends because “they told me you didn’t want to see me”

VIV. GIRL. WHO THE FUCK IS THEY??? AND WHY WOULD “THEY” STOP BLITZØ OR FIZZ FROM SEEING EACH OTHER

Idk I feel crazy about this but that whole episode was just so bad in places and I don’t even know what setups from season 1 are still supposed to be canon and this whole fucking thing is just a goddamn mess…

Almost like that whole flashback needed more time, maybe even an entire episode devoted to it, but Viv had more important things to focus on, like showing off Alex Brightman singing and jokes about Asmodeus's kaiju sized cock.

And you just know that if any of it does end up being referenced down the line, it's a pleasant bonus, not something to expect. Not from a show like this.

#Anonymous #viv stuff #actual blog post #helluva boss critical

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oliversrarebooks · 7 months

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Prompt: Fitz using his vampire mind control powers for the first time and perhaps having PTSD flashbacks to Lily brainwashing him.

It really isn't Lily that Fitz has PTSD flashbacks to - at least not primarily. Which means that instead of Fitz's first time using his powers, I decided to write about a somewhat later time when Fitz's fears plagued him...

Masterlist

September 1910

TW: mind control, blood drinking, PTSD, self-loathing, mentions of blood

It was a bad night even before the puppets showed up.

In fact, it was destined to be a bad night ever since Fitz had happened to glance at the calendar and realize that it was the anniversary of the day he'd been taken from Lex. He immediately tried to push that sordid knowledge from his mind, knowing that it would result in nothing but a lot of pointless anxiety.

The thin scars lining his hands itched and ached regardless.

And that was before he realized that the act booked to go on before him was a fucking puppet show of all things. As he waited in the wings, peeking out the curtain, he watched as the near-life-size wooden puppets twitched and danced.

He tried not to feel the strings tightening around his own wrists and neck, forcing sore, tired limbs to move against his will. He tried to fight the urge for his own feet to twitch in uncontrollable rhythm. He tried not to hear the cruel whisper in his ear, pouring cold terror into his unresisting mind as his Master listed every trivial mistake.

One of the puppets was a ballerina, twirling in a graceful pirouette. Some of his fellow thralls had been ballerinas, too, delicate feet bleeding on the dance floor.

A sick dizziness washed over him. He felt detached from reality as he fought the urge to sink to his knees and grovel to his Master for a leniency that was rarely granted. The words were bubbling up in his rapidly tightening throat as he swayed and gripped a curtain to remain upright.

"Mr. Fitz?"

"Master," he murmured. "Master, please, I'm trying --"

"Mr. Fitz, hey. Are you okay, mate?"

The stage fell back into place around Fitz as he snapped out of the self-inflicted trance he'd been in. One of the stagehands, a scrawny boy of no more than nineteen, was pulling on his sleeve. "You look pale as the dead, mister," he said, with innocent concern. "Are you all right? You're going to need to go on in a few."

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he said, mustering up a smile that he was sure looked ghastly. The show needed to go on, after all.

---

Fitz somehow managed to hold himself together for an entire act. From the audience's delighted reaction, they didn't suspect a thing wrong. They couldn't hear the whispered memories tugging at Fitz's mind every time his focus slipped an inch, and thank the devil for that.

He slouched in his dressing room chair. What the hell was wrong with him? He had no reason to be so irrationally frightened of a threat that was an ocean away and several years removed. This time, when he criticized himself, it was his own voice and not the Maestro's --

Pull it together. God, you're fucking useless. Getting turned didn't cure you of that, now did it?

There was a soft knock on the door. "Come in," said Fitz, putting his smile back on, happy to have any distraction from his own wretched thoughts.

A young man in a stylish blue suit slipped in the doorway. He had big, dark eyes, the kind you could lose yourself in, and a gentle smile. A handsome man, one of Fitz's favorite sorts of distraction.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Fitz," said the young man. "My name is Charlie, and I'm a big fan of magic. I really enjoyed your act this evening, and the stagehand told me I could come backstage to meet you."

Bless the innocent stagehand and his excellent instincts. Not only was the man handsome, but he also smelled like a treat. A bit of blood would do wonders for healing his addled mind.

"Yes, of course. Excellent taste!" said Fitz with a grin and a wink. "Have a seat. I appreciate the company, especially from a fan like yourself."

Fitz turned his vampiric charm on a low hum, not enough to exert any real control, just enough to set the man at ease and draw him in. He'd been a natural at it right off the bat, as soon as he'd recovered from the turning and the injuries inflicted upon him. He could already see the relaxed smile spreading across Charlie's face, the way he leaned in closer to Fitz as he sat.

"Can I ask how you do any of your tricks, or do you never reveal your secrets?" Charlie asked. "Especially the one with the two chairs."

"Oh, it's a secret," said Fitz, leaning in closer himself. "I can give you a hint -- only one of the chairs has a real back to it."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mmmhmm. What else did you like about my act? I'm always eager to hear some praise, you know."

"I liked the part with the fishtanks. It was very suspenseful. And the bit where you escaped the handcuffs..." Charlie's eyes were going a little glassy. Perfect.

Fitz reached in and touched the man's hair, meeting with no resistance. Such an easy mark. "Very good," he said, physical contact allowing him to weave his real power around the man's mind, soothing him and promoting feelings of blissful pleasure.

"Very good," Charlie agreed, slowly nodding, losing himself in it already.

Fitz's treacherous, anxious mind supplied him with a vision a backstage dressing room years ago, the one where Lily had mesmerized him and sealed his fate. How it had felt to be helpless against a vampire's power.

Annoyed, he pushed it aside. This wasn't like that. He was the vampire now and he was fully in control. He wasn't packing this man off to one of those nasty auction houses, he was just taking a little taste. Charlie clearly had plenty of blood he wouldn't miss.

"Tell me, Charlie," Fitz said with a wicked grin that he knew would make his fangs obvious. "If you're such a devoted fan, would you mind parting with a bit of your blood? Just enough for a little snack, nothing that will do you any harm."

There was only the briefest of resistance before Charlie's head bobbed in an eager nod. "Sure, Mr. Fitz, that'd be just... perfect..."

Perfect.

The word rang through Fitz's head.

I'm trying! I'm trying, Master, please, I'm trying!

If you were actually trying, it would be perfect.

The puppet string tightened around his neck, his old scars feeling like they were on fire.

"No," he whispered, pushing the stranger away and falling to the floor, his stool overturning. "No, no, please, Master, I can't do it any more, I can't -- "

The stranger blinked and looked down at Fitz in confusion. "Are you all right? There might be something in the air here, I was feeling so strange --"

"Go," said Fitz, pushing the stranger away with the same force he'd used to draw him closer. "Leave me!"

The stranger couldn't scramble out of the dressing room fast enough, leaving Fitz to curl up in a miserable, pathetic heap on the floor, cowering before a Master that only existed in his head. He could feel the dank chill of the Maestro's practice room, the scrapes on his knees as he groveled on the floor, the sharp cuts where the fine, cruel silver knife had marred his skin --

Feeling desperate and pitiful, there was only a brief argument in his mind before he relented and sought out Lex. His mind traversed the familiar connection between sire and sireling, the one Lex was so careful never to abuse. Fitz hated leaning on his old love to soothe his troubled mind, but on a really bad night like this --

The connection was always weak from the sireling's end, so all he could send was feelings and vague impressions. Puppets. Knives. Fear.

The response was immediate. Are you okay? What's happening? Didn't you have a show tonight?

Fitz swallowed and tried to convey that he was fine in the practical sense, just having terrible waking nightmares.

He was rewarded when his mind was flooded with a cool, soothing calm, washing away his fear and pain. His muscles unclenched. His shaking subsided. He was able to sit up, leaning against the wall, drinking in the comfort Lex was providing him from afar.

He hated to do it. After all, this situation was largely his fault, no matter how much Lex tried to convince him it wasn't. He should be the one comforting his love. But he was weak. Even as a vampire, he was so fucking weak.

Masterlist

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#whump #whump writing #vampire #mind control #blood drinking #panic attack #vampire whumpee #vampire whumper #rare bookseller #fitz #maestro

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