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ahumanintraining · 2 months ago

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Giving y’all some pregnant Annette and married Richtette even tho nobody asked for it lmfao. If you like it and want me to finish it, don’t hesitate to ask and if y’all have any Richette ideas/ prompts don’t hesitate to ask <3

At 3am Annette woke up to the intense, unshakable craving of wanting macarons.

Mint macarons with vanilla filling in particular.

The seven-month pregnant woman awoke immediately, her golden doe eyes opening in a mere blink as soon as her craving hit her. She heavily sat herself up, holding her bump, her long locs falling in front of her face as she scowled disgruntled from being awakened despite finally feeling comfortable enough to fall into a somewhat comfortable slumber amidst her swollen feet and back pains. But she knew that trying to fall asleep again was fruitless. Not until her desire for the crunchy, sweet pastry was satiated. It was the only thing her mind could focus on and was much more powerful than her discomfort.

And when Annette wanted something. She got it.

Her gaze swivelled to the other side of the bed and landed on Richter who was still snoring away, unencumbered. The vampire hunter was sleeping on his stomach, his muscled back flexing and relaxing as he breathed. His thick and scarred arms were tightly wrapped around his pillow that was strewn with his long brown curls. He looked like he was on cloud nine, (the lucky bastard Annette thought).

His eyes were peacefully shut, his face completely relaxed and devoid of lines and there was even a slight trail of drool escaping from his slightly parted lips.

He looked so at ease and so at peace that Annette couldn’t help but feel a tad guilty for what she was about to do.

But then she remembered who had eagerly got her pregnant in the first place.

Yeah. Guilt gone.

Annette slowly inched towards him and laid a hand on his shoulder, slightly shaking it. “Richter, wake up...” She whispered softly, a pout tugging at her lips.

The pout however deepened into a full-on frown when her husband merely muttered something incoherent and shrugged her off, burying his face even deeper into the pillow.

Dick.

She glared at him, scoffing in annoyance as she shook him again, harder this time. Richter!” She hissed.

This time her husband awakened with a jolt, his head flying out of his pillow in panic, his eyes blurry and unfocused.

“Annette? Wha-are you alright-is the baby alright-is” Richter babbled in complete disarray, his hands reaching out to her, first cupping her cheek and then hovering over her belly, franticly searching for signs of distress.

Annette almost felt bad for scaring him. Almost.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” She said a tad impatiently as she gently pushed him off. “The baby is okay, everything is okay.” She patted his heaving chest to calm him.

He sagged in relief, his distress slowly fading back to grogginess. His blue eyes still however remained fretful and a bit confused.

“Then what’s up?”

Annette bit her lip determined as she slightly leaned in, letting Richter wrap an arm around her middle.

“We want macarons.”

Richter blinked. Slowly. As if he hadn’t quite heard what she had said.

“Sorry?” He asked dumbly, his voice husky from sleep.

“Me and the little one want mint macarons with vanilla filling from Hugo’s. Please.” She repeated slowly, annunciating each word as she rubbed her swollen tummy.

Richter looked at her incredulously, praying that he was still asleep and, in a dream, because there was no way in hell Annette woke him up at (his eyes darted to the clock on his nightstand) precisely 3:10 AM for some fucking macarons from a bakery that is most definitely closed since it was the middle of the fucking night.

“Annette you can’t be serious- “

Yet she was and she told him so.

He groaned and dragged a heavy hand to cover his tired face as he sunk back into his pillow, gently dragging a protesting Annette down with him.

“Nette,” He groaned, his voice rough, “Sweetheart, can’t this wait till tomorrow-Hugo’s closed right now anyways, you know that? Besides you hate mint macarons- let’s just go back to bed, yeah- “

But Annette wasn’t having it.

She twisted herself out of his weak embrace, shooting him the most unimpressed and disappointed look she could muster.

“No Richter you don’t understand, I-we need it now!” Annette whined as she laboriously tried to sit herself back up again, her frown slightly relaxing as Richter gently helped her steady herself.

“I wouldn’t wake you up if this wasn’t urgent, but we really need those macarons otherwise I won’t be able to go back to sleep so please get them for us. Besides you’re literally the reason why this is happening in the first place, so you’re not allowed to complain!”

Richter sighed exhaustedly as Annette tugged at his arm, pulling him up again.

“I hear you love, I hear you, but Hugo’s is closed right now. The man is most definitely in bed too, what do you want me to do about it?"

Annette crossed her arms and gave him a pointed look.

“Well wake him up. Obviously.”

Richter let out a snort of disbelief at the dead serious expression on Annette’s face.

“Sunshine, Hugo is like seventy years old and has arthritis in both knees-like the man goes to bed at 8pm. He’s definitely not gonna wake up to make you macarons, in the middle of the bloody night.”

She glared at him, her eyebrows furrowing in irritation.

“Richter Belmont,” She started slowly. “You have slayed over a million vampires including the damn Vampire Messiah and the literal vessel of the goddess Sekhmet. I am positive you can manage to get your own wife a few macarons.”

#richette #annette #richter belmont #castlevania nocturne #richter x annette #the last part was soooo funny hahahhaha #pregnancy cravings for real!

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ahumanintraining · 2 months ago

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rhythm is an act of god

can a man of science believe in something as improbable as true love? — meljay. nsfw. praise and workship kink-ish. (ao3 link)

For a so-called man of science, Jayce has always been drawn to the divine.

Ever since that cloaked mage saved his mother and him from the raging blizzard and cold winter frost, Jayce was left with visions of the sky above and the universe beyond, outlined in archaic symbols he could barely decipher. He was haunted with the dreams of glowing runes, seeking magic with a fixated voracity disguised as scientific research. He obsessed over the crystal blue rune he was gifted and wore at the pulse of his wrist like it was the only thing giving him purpose and life.

He always denied this of himself. He long realized that his childhood story doesn’t receive approval among colleagues and professors. Even his mother frowns when he recounts what happened — even while it all happened to her and saved her life. In entrance interviews to the Academy, Jayce always lied about his research interests, spouting some impassionate answer about improving his family’s toolmaking capabilities or contributing to Piltover’s legacy, when in reality, he was chasing visions of the “impossible.”

But everything changed that night — the night that Viktor and him stabilized the crystal. They floated in the air, as if gravity didn’t exist. They proved that magic and the Arcane are natural phenomena as any other, and that they exist between the molecules and matter that science is limited within. Such is gravity that brings the apple back to the earth, such is also the rune that defies time and space as they know it.

And so that night, the impossible became the inevitable.

The question was never how but when.

The same also applies to attraction and affection. The subtle gazes and averted eyes when they shared the room. The electric tension in the air when they attempted for small talk, stilted words and held tongues. He never imagined that a Councilor — much less the illustrious Mel Medarda — would take interest in a mere scholar like him.

But perhaps like Hextech, this was also inevitable, no matter how seemingly improbable.

Now, she is before him, looking down at him with all the poise and grace of royalty, all at the same time bare and undone before him. Her pupils are so wide they swallow her eyes and the golden freckles on her cheeks twinkle like constellations in the sky. A lurid pearl of spit hangs from her bitten-swollen lips, and she breathes heavily, her chest glistening with the slightest layer of sweat. The soft white moonlight casts long shadows over her, yet spares him a generous view of her inner thighs, shimmering streaks of where his tongue painted over her.

As always, she remains luminous. Golden like the sun even in the dead of night.

“How was that?” he rasps, voice rough with disuse. He can still taste her on his lips. She is smeared all over his mouth, the night air cooling over his lips.

She gifts him a quiet laugh. “That was so good, Jayce,” she tells him, tracing the underside of his jaw with her thumb. “So good. Incredible.”

He smiles, his chest thrumming with delight as he leans into her caress. He has always been eager to please, beguiled by even the most casual of affirmations and compliments, but somehow pleasing her feels like what he is meant to do. Whatever she wants of him, she can have — especially since he desperately wants to give.

“You want more,” he says. It’s not a question.

“Yes,” she replies, nodding her head. “Please.”

“Good.” He stands to his feet and leans over her body, taking a hold of her shoulders and slotting himself between her legs. “Because I’m going to fuck you really good now.”

She gasps then, feeling him hard, teasing at her opening and lubricated with her arousal and his spit. He feels her take his shaft, guiding him inside. He follows through, and she takes him easily in a single thrust.

“Oh! Jayce!” she cries out, as he pushes into her. She envelopes him completely — his body in her open embrace, his cock in her tight cunt.

This feels exactly where he needs to be, exactly where he wants to be.

“Easy does it,” he coos into her ear. He starts a slow and steady rhythm, hearing her moans soften as she stretches to his girth. After just a few thrusts, he can go deeper, harder and she takes him each time with satisfied whines.

Soon they are one, grinding against each other and seeking the next climax. He kisses her sloppily, teeth crashing into hers and bruising her lips. His body moves on its own, faster and more forceful — fueled by her begging for her. She angles her hips up into him, the shift in position making them both groan in delight.

This is perfect — mathematical, even — how his body fits inside her hips while flush against her, how his hand covers her breasts as he thumbs her nipple, how his hips slap the back of her thighs to make such a resonant sound.

“Jayce!” she mewls, accentuating his lunges with breathy sighs. “Oh Janna, fuck me!”

Hearing her cry out to the spirit amuses him a little. He never imagined her a believer of anything. She never talked to him of religion or of the elementals and gods. She always quipped with him about objectivity rather than optimism and seemed much too practical to practice any form of devotion. He always thought of her an atheist, like him. Funny how in the thralls of pleasure the truth of everything comes out.

Not that he is a believer himself; only his toughest critics say he is one of magic. But magic isn’t a religion — in fact, it can be harnessed by hand, steel, and stone. Magic is nothing more than extension of science, he’s proven.

Mel’s moans grow louder, her breath tickling the shell of his ear as she cries out his name. She grows desperate and impatient, pawing at his back and digging her nails into his skin. He cradles her shoulders, bracing her under his body weight as he sinks deep inside her.

Everything he gives to her, she returns in equal pleasure; every action, an equal and opposite reaction. Fucking her feels as good as solving for the final variable, feels as right as balancing an equation — yet he knows there is more to how good this feels than just anatomy, more to how good she is to him than just simply science.

This passion they share. This desire for knowledge and advancement between their minds. This rhythm between their bodies.

This is fate.

“Fuck. Mel,” he grunts, as the familiar sensation of release overcomes him. He wants so much for this moment between them to last longer, but he is already at the edge and as she whines that she’s coming and as she begs for him to finish and as her body is so pliable and as her cunt is so good — he can do nothing to stop.

Perhaps his mind is blurry as pleasure courses through him, but he thinks that as she calls out his name, her eyes flash with white light and golden rays ribbon over her arms and legs. He thinks he sees the sun and stars in her, and he thinks he’s induced something supernatural.

She is divine, he realizes then. She is his goddess, and this is worshipping her — ravishing her, rendering her uninhibited. This is his act of faith: He will fuck her so good that she will lose control and let go of the self-criticism and feelings of inadequacy hanging over her. He will service her until she is separated from the confines of her mind and make her believe that, yes, she deserves to be undone as so.

“Ah! Jayce!” she cries as she orgasms. She vibrates, her legs quivering as her eyes roll back. She takes every last thrust as he spills into her, holding him tight against her.

For a moment, he worries then: If she is truly divine, he wonders if he flies too close to the sun — a man with wax wings. This is too good to be true, after all. He lies next to a beautiful and powerful woman that matches him for mind and spirit, trusts in his ambition to harness the Arcane, adores him for who he is and not just for who he can be.

But then, she comes to, her breathing slowing as her eyes refocus to look at him. She smiles at him, and he realizes — no, he is not Icarus. He will not melt in the face of her sun. He is the earth, that which flourishes green under her warm radiance. He is the sky, the vast sea of blue that covers the earth, and she is the most luminous part of him.

Perhaps this is what true love feels like — if there is such a thing.

And if a man of science can so steadfastly believe in magic, then he certainly can believe in something just as improbable, can’t he?

Yes, he thinks he can.

#meljay #mel medarda #jayce talis #arcane

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ahumanintraining · 3 months ago

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size matters

When the goddess Circe struck her with the Blessing of Bigness, Melinoë looked down to marvel at the new size of her hands. She then suddenly realized what (or rather, who) she had to do. — melinoe/nemesis. nsfw. (ao3 link)

Melinoë had never sprinted faster in her life.

Not even a Hermes boon could have offered her as much of a nitro boost. As soon as she teleported back into her tent, she raced through the Crossroads, wisping by Dora in the slightest hello and sending birds into a scattered flutter. She was but a gust of wind as she breezed past, fallen leaves turning to dust under her flamed bare feet.

"Nem!" she called out, waving her hands ecstatically as she entered the clearing in the glade and turned the corner, finding Nemesis around the bend.

Nemesis looked annoyed, as per usual, but her golden eyes lightened as she saw Melinoë.

"You," she replied, blinking once as she gave Melinoë a onceover. "You're—"

"Big!" Melinoë interrupted excitedly. "I'm big! I ran into the goddess Circe along the islands along Thessaly and she granted me the Blessing of Bigness and—"

"And now you want to compare sizes," Nemesis finished for her. She sighed, crossing her arms. "I see now why you sent Hermes to request I return to the clearing. Promptly."

"Exactly! This blessing isn’t going to last forever, and I didn’t know when the next time I was going to see her!" Melinoë affirmed. She placed her hands on her hips, kicking out one foot in a confident pose. "So? What do you think?"

Nemesis granted her a small smile. "Well,” she said, voice gravelly like a crackling fireplace. “I don't have to look down so far anymore."

"And I need not break my neck trying to look back up at you!" Melinoë chirped. She scanned the surrounding brush around them — there were barely any shades around, and the few that were in the vicinity were talking among themselves — before she leaned forward and pressed a kiss squarely on Nemesis's lips. "Best part is that I didn’t have to tiptoe for that!"

Melinoë could tell Nemesis appreciated her caution, especially given how news travels fast in the family. Nemesis was not one for public displays of affection, but even sharing a discreet kiss under the open sky was progress in and of itself.

"I like the change," Nemesis agreed, her smile widening a smidge. Her eyes flitted behind Melinoë to double check for lurkers. (Namely, Odysseus, who always seemed to be tending the gardens within eyeshot of Nemesis’s post and who, of course, loved to remind them he had “foreseen” — Melinoë regrets recounting much about her encounters with Prometheus with him — that the two would ultimately decide they were more lovers than rivals.) "Keeps things fresh. Things get boring around here."

"Indeed!" Melinoë said. Then she swooped down to lift Nemesis up under the knees to carry her up bridal style, a much easier task now that Melinoë was practically her size.

"Mel," Nemesis warned, voice piqued a touch — her only indication of surprise. "What are you doing?"

"I'm much stronger now too!" Melinoë exclaimed, performing a half-bicep curl with Nemesis. (And actually, this could be good training, Melinoë noted.) "Bet you didn't expect that, did you?"

"Put me down!" Nemesis snapped. On realizing her raised pitch, she adjusted her volume and hissed, "Put me down right now."

Melinoë shook her head, giving her a wry smirk. She leaned in, lips brushing along the shell of Nemesis’s ear. "No,” she declined. “Now that I’m big, I'm taking you to my tent and showing you what it’s like to be picked on by someone your own size."

And just like that, Melinoë sped off to her tent, throwing Nemesis onto her sheets. She hurled herself over Nemesis, pinning her down. Seeing her hands over her elbows and her legs between hers, Melinoë beamed proudly.

“Congrats,” Nemesis said, with a roll of her eyes. “You did it.”

“Well, don’t act like it’s the first time I’ve had you underneath me like this!” Melinoë teased, narrowing her eyes. “Don’t remember last night in the Fields of Mourning? I beat you fair and square!”

“You also had the benefit of your family’s blessings. I can only aim for one Lycaon at a time.”

Melinoë raised an eyebrow. “You sound jealous, Nem.”

“I’m only saying that your casts never usually cover that much ground,” Nemesis replied, before then frowning. “Nor are they usually that shiny.” She squinted as though remembering the brightness, as though a stray sunray caught her eye.

“Apollo’s doing,” Melinoë explained. She grinned, poking the breastplate of her armor. “You never did give me your share of coins, you know. You owe me.”

Nemesis tilted her head, giving her a tempting smile. “I have no coins on me. You’ll have to find something else to take,” she challenged.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Melinoë replied. And with that, she hopped off Nemesis and pointed to the ground before her. “Now stand right here — there’s no way I’m going to be able to undress you while you’re lying in bed.”

“Does being bigger make you bossier?” Nemesis asked, rolling her eyes. Nevertheless, she threw her legs over the side of the bed and relocated herself exactly where Melinoë defined.

“No,” Melinoë answered, poking Nemesis in the chest. “But it certainly makes you more likely to listen to me, doesn’t it?”

Nemesis scoffed — all the meanwhile incredibly cooperative as Melinoë undid her armor. Melinoë started by plucking off her two shoulder pads, humming pleasantly to see that she did not have to tiptoe to do so. Then she unbuckled all the straps that attached the breastplate and backplate to her top, letting the heavy metal clatter to the ground.

Melinoë had initially been much slower at pulling off all of Nemesis’s armor, and of course, for their first few night escapades, she was too stubborn to ask for help or advice in doing so. But eventually undressing Nemesis became like second nature to Melinoë — so much so that Melinoë was confident that out of all of Nemesis’s lovers (although Melinoë doubted she had many), she was the one that could get her down to her skin the fastest.

So off came her greaves, her cuisses, her sabatons, the red undergarments and white wraps she wore under all her armor — until Nemesis wore nothing but her hair tie.

As always, Nemesis looked smaller sans armor, but now that Melinoë was of comparable size now, seeing this phenomenon today made Melinoë particularly happy.

“Much better,” Melinoë remarked. She then bent in to give Nemesis a kiss at her neck, breathing in the musk off her neck. She reached her hands behind Nemesis, taking the hair tie around her thick bun and pulling it away. Released, Nemesis shook her hair out, letting jet black hair cascade her shoulders, a river of night.

Melinoë loved seeing Nemesis’s hair down. Her hair gave Nemesis a quiet feminine charm that contrasted her broad collarbones and muscled arms. Her hair was like the evening sky, and Melinoë swore she could see stars twinkling between the strands, like she could see the Heavens, the entirety of the realm of Chaos, the beginning and end of Time itself.

If Melinoë had a weakness — as Achilles had his heel — Nemesis’s hair would undoubtedly be hers.

Melinoë leaned into Nemesis, pressing another kiss onto her lips. In response, Nemesis reached behind Melinoë, taking her ass in both hands. She squeezed, and Melinoë heard her hum in satisfaction.

"You like that there's more to hold onto?" Melinoë teased. “Another reason why me being big is better.”

"I was never complaining about your new size," Nemesis replied, before giving her a sound slap.

“Nem!” Melinoë gasped. In revenge, she stepped back, pushing Nemesis onto her bed — which took so much less force than when Melinoë was in her original size. Of course, Melinoë knew Nemesis was letting Melinoë get her way too, but she was still thrilled at the newfound strength that her bigger size granted her. And Nemesis also seemed to enjoy it well; as her body hit Melinoë's bed, her lips curved upwards ever so slightly.

She took Nemesis’s calves, pulling her until her ass lined up with the edge of the mattress.

“Now let’s see how you feel now that you’re picking a fight with someone your own size,” Melinoë purred, kneeling between Nemesis’s legs. She trailed her lips up Nemesis’s left leg, then parted her thighs, dragging the flat of her tongue over Nemesis’s opening.

"Oh…" Nemesis moaned, and Melinoë felt her thigh muscles grow slack, opening up even more to her. Gods, she loved how Nemesis responded to her, and especially how Nemesis was now under her control.

Melinoë trailed her tongue in another languid lap to her center, to which Nemesis closed her eyes, her hands fisting the bedsheets. She traced her opening with her finger as her tongue transferred to the pearl at the top corner. Nemesis shuddered, her breathing heavy and slow. Her hips arched, coaxing Melinoë onwards, the sweet smell of her arousal clouding the air around her.

Finding Nemesis sufficiently warmed up, Melinoë added a finger, sliding both in up to her knuckles and curling upwards to press against Nemesis’s walls. Nemesis gasped, thrusting upwards to receive her. Melinoë palmed her hand against her, reaching with her free hand to gently squeeze her breast.

"Now that my fingers are bigger, does it feel any different?" Melinoë cooed, before gliding her tongue along her entrance, her fingers locked in the same rhythm.

Nemesis’s lack of answer and stifled moans gave Melinoë a satisfactory enough answer — she liked it. A lot.

And so even while much of Melinoë’s self-doubt originated from comparing herself to Nemesis, at the same time, Nemesis (especially when ruined in Melinoë’s bed) was the very reason why that same critical voice faded away into the back corners of her mind.

Now, Melinoë had never disliked her size and rather appreciated the make of her body very much, but seeing how even the very big and very strong Nemesis curled and whimpered at even the gentlest of her touches made Melinoë better appreciate her temporary size boon.

Certainly, being bigger had its benefits.

Namely, giving Nemesis a taste of her own medicine.

Melinoë’s hand was now slick with Nemesis’s arousal, making it even easier for her to take her in the angles that she was begging for. Nemesis was fully loosened now, a sheen of sweet glistening over her furrowed brow. She was under Melinoë’s spell now, mumbling sounds that didn’t mean anything — maybe words in old Chthonic or curses in a language older than the Moon.

"Ah! Melinoë!" Nemesis exclaimed, perhaps the only vocal sign she was ascending.

“Not so funny now that you’re in the hot seat, huh?” Melinoë teased.

Nemesis exhaled sharply, meeting Melinoë’s eyes, looking beautifully desperate and wanton — her hair spiraled out from under her head in long tendrils, her perfectly toned body and smooth obsidian skin, her bright amber eyes like the melted sun.

“Melinoë, please. Please.”

Melinoë very much liked to hear her name like this, and she very much loved to see Nemesis undone.

“You look so good when you’re begging to come,” Melinoë cooed. She locked in and focused, maintaining the same rhythm and force into her fingers, the same pressure and speed of her tongue. She was going to make Nemesis sing — cry out just as Nemesis always made her do.

“Blood and darkness — Melinoë!”

Nemesis came, reaching her peak. Her body curled inward as she shuddered, riding out the waves of her pleasure. Melinoë slowed her rhythm before finally withdrawing her fingers, tasting Nemesis’s arousal. She stood to her feet, craning over Nemesis’s body to plant an emphatic kiss on her lips, which Nemesis fervently returned.

As Nemesis returned, the fog settling, she smiled up at Melinoë, taking a deep breath as she reached up to tuck a stray strand of Melinoë’s hair behind her ear.

"You know, I could get to like you in this size," Nemesis said, voice like honey. Her eyes roamed over Melinoë's body in an unabashed onceover. "Makes all the nice details bigger."

Melinoë giggled, feeling a warm fizzle all over her body. "Well, I also like me in this — oh!" And her voice cracked, no longer deep and resonant.

The warm fizzle turned into a hot flash and suddenly Melinoë found herself back in her original size and that Circe’s curse (or rather, boon) had finally faded.

Unfortunately, Melinoë took a second too long for Melinoë to realize, because Nemesis was quick to harness the opportunity. In one motion, she flipped Melinoë over onto her back, pinning her down to the bed.

"Nice try," Nemesis smirked, a playful smile on her lips.

Melinoë grinned, feeling comfortably crushed under Nemesis’s solid weight. "What are you going to do then, Nem?"

"Well,” Nemesis replied, hot breath tickling her ear. “I'm not called the Goddess of Retribution for nothing.”

#hades supergiant #hades game #hades 2 #melinoe #nemesis #melnem #nsfw #hades 2 fanfic #yes im back to posting on tumblr

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