#sword fighting with snakes

[youryurigoddess]

On love and sacrifices

There’s so much more to this scapegoating business and big sacrifices referenced in the Good Omens narrative than the literal goats. And they’re only getting bigger, louder, final.

But let’s take it slow and start with the beginning, quite literally — i.e., with the Good Omens 2 title sequence. As we follow Aziraphale and Crowley on their journey, the universe warps and their usual left and right side positioning switches during the magic show (not accidentally an act of trust and sacrifice required both from the angel and the demon). They stay so throughout the next scene, which is their little dance in the air, and after they seemingly get settled on the A. Z. Fell and Co.’s roof and back to normal, the flipped sky in the background suggests that something’s not quite right yet. In the central part of the shot looms a large, humanlike shadow of the Elephant Trunk Nebula.

The nebula is a part of a constellation called Cepheus, after an Ethiopian king from the Greek mythology who agreed to sacrifice his only daughter in order to appease the gods and end a local calamity started by her mother and his wife, Cassiopeia (talk about generational responsibility). With time and a delightfully ironic twist of fate, the name of said daughter, Andromeda, became more famous than that of her father. Although she was chained up to a rock and offered to the sea serpent Cetus, the girl was spotted by the warrior Perseus, casually flying over the sea — either on the back of the Pegasus or thanks to a pair of winged sandals — after his victory over Medusa. He fell in love on the spot, defeated the serpent (with the help of a magical sword or Medusa’s severed head, depending on the varying sources), and freed the princess. That’s not exactly where their story ends, but we won’t be getting into the rest here.

Not surprisingly, Neil has mentioned two parallel child sacrifice stories from the biblical context back in August. The first is one of the big ones — The Binding of Isaac. God's command to sacrifice Isaac, his only son, was a test of Abraham's faith. The angel of the Lord intervenes and provides a ram to be sacrificed in the boy’s place.

The second one isn’t nearly as popular, but you might have heard a variant of it in fairy tales or as the Law of Surprise invoked in The Witcher saga. In exchange for Israel’s victory over its enemies in battle, Jephthah had rashly promised God to repay the debt with the first thing seen on his return back home. The victorious warrior didn’t suspect to see his only child moving innocently "to meet him with timbrels and with dances" though. In horror, Jephthah covered his eyes with his cloak, but to no avail: ultimately, he was forced to honor his vow to God, and the girl was sacrificed. As grisly as it might look like in the Old Master’s paintings, it’s important to remember that human sacrifices weren’t limited to physical offerings only — Jephthah’s daughter might have been offered to God in the sense of officially shunning her family and dedicating her life to service instead, probably sequestered in a temple somewhere.

Interestingly, the main character of a big chunk of the Bible and the reason for the Second Coming happens to be THE most influential child sacrifice in the modern history. You know, a certain 33-year-old carpenter sent by his Heavenly Father to die on a cross for the sins of the mankind? Someone better call Aubrey Thyme ASAP.

Circling back to Aziraphale, he could be also seen as a representative of the concept of filial piety, since Eden willing to personally take a Fall not only for the humanity’s collective or individual transgressions, but the shortcomings of his Ineffable Parental Figure as well. Our favorite angel angel always fights for what is right and good, sure, but why would that be even a thing if God was truly omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent?

If Aziraphale’s medal is anything to go by, it looks like we might get an answer from the way it’s introducing another mythological narrative into the game, that is the story of Daedalus and Icarus. The most absorbing thing about this is the stark contrast to the recurring child sacrifice references for S3 mentioned in this post — Daedalus isn’t a father who wanted to sacrifice his son, it was his attempt to save him from imprisonment that ultimately drove Icarus to his death. The boy ignored his father’s explicit instructions, committing the grave and culturally universal sin of disobedience to one's parents that simply couldn’t go unpunished, one way or another.

But Icarus’s transgression could be seen both as high-flying ambition and striving for personal accomplishment as well as humanitarian sacrifice for knowledge and humanity’s advancement in general.

Similarly to a certain angel who left everything for what superficially seems like a work promotion, but is the ultimate act of love — both for his demon and the children they have been protecting and nurturing together for six thousand years. From the very Beginning, his white wings have been shielding everything he holds dear in this world.

[kingdomblade]

SLASH! Altairey's Warrior dodges Frostknight's attack by a hair, whew!

Check out a *very* large full resolution version + sketches on Patreon!

Find me on: Lesser Than Three | Patreon | Twitter | DeviantArt | Instagram | Webtoon | Bluesky

[iamaperture]

I'm just past the first dungeon of Zelda: Echos of Wisdom. Maybe its my Pokemon experience, but I seem to focus all combat on "monster vs monster" instead of using other tools.

However, my current typical strategy of "ARMY OF SNAKES" has been working pretty well.

[jonreytrevino]

Repost Classic : NES - Lamia Queen

5/1/22

BlueSky | Ko-fi | Upwork

[nicstylus]

Ishu Starshard belongs to FoxxyKai

[deromanus]

the common tags on my imdb watchlist are so beautiful <3

[balrogballs]

I have never had a normal thought since I realised Aragorn/Estel would have been around 10 years old — more like 7/8 considering his heritage — when Thorin's Company passes through Rivendell, so here are some brainrot headcanons (continued under the cut):

Estel is obsessed with Thorin. Just completely obsessed. Follows him around everywhere like a cat, begs him to play with him, offers to run errands for him. Literally every elf in Rivendell is completely stunned at the behaviour because Estel is, normally, a card-carrying ankle-biter.

The Dwarves, on the other hand, are shocked by the fact that by a few days into the visit, Thorin seems to like Estel too. Gloin would have sworn that he expected Thorin to throw the child off the banisters the minute he made him hold his pet python. Thorin didn't just hold said snake, but played with him, let him do little odd jobs, even letting him sit up with him at the dining halls. On two evenings, he even takes Estel out with a wooden sword, to show him how to "fight like a Dwarf lord". All the Dwarves are just as shook as the elves, minus Kili and Fili, who knew Thorin as Uncle Thorin and are completely unsurprised that he is so wonderful with little Estel.

Lindir and Elrond find a content python snoozing in Elrond's study. Lindir and Elrond are both utterly and irrationally terrified of snakes. After much screaming and climbing on sofas, every member of staff swears Estel had been in his mother's quarters all day. Nobody thinks to mention that they saw Bilbo and Thorin hanging about outside the study, because what relevance could that possibly have?

When the company left Rivendell, Estel was understandably quite unhappy because he'd miss them, also they were going to see a dragon, and he begged to go with them. Thorin does what most parents do before going on a trip, and promises to bring him a present from the dragon's lair when they returned.

Bilbo returns without Thorin, but with the promised present for Estel. He visits the boy in his quarters and they hold each other and share their grief. Bilbo then shows him the present. He explains how Thorin wanted to give him something more substantial than a golden cup scraped off the floor of a dragon's lair — he had told Bilbo, the night before the battle, to give the boy Thorin's own solid gold wristband.

On the same return trip, Elrond expressed his condolences over Thorin's death, and enquired if there were other casualties. When he finds out that Kili and Fili had also died in the battle, a strange, terrible expression twisted across his face and he said, almost reflexively, both? both together? good. that's good. The remaining Dwarves and Bilbo were all stunned, thinking it was Elvish apathy at best, and deliberate disrespect at worst. After all, they had no reason to know that Elrond, like his immortal brethren, found it somewhat difficult to gauge the ages of mortal beings — and had thought the two late brothers were twins.

Decades later on the night before the Fellowship were set to depart, the elderly Bilbo Baggins found it hard to sleep from worry, and wandered onto the balcony, and saw a lone man practicing sword moves in the courtyard. He realises both man and combat style seem faintly familiar, like the heavy striding and swinging and slashing are the steps to an old dance he once used to know, which now lives in a deep, forgotten place within him, under layers of unravelling memories. He can't quite put his finger on it. But there is a strange comfort in the sight, so soothing Bilbo's eyes start to close, falling asleep curled up right there on the balcony. He slips off into a wonderful old dream, lulled by the rhythm of fallen leaves crunching in the courtyard — where Aragorn "fights like a dwarf", solid gold wristband twinkling under the light of the stars.

[rollingeevee]

I'm curious about hwo the beast bites would work with a cookie that has a chronic illness or mental illness that mimics the effects of the bite. Like Mystic Flour's- I know i would keep walking because i'd just think i was dissociating or my depression was acting up and ignore the effects. Would the beasts make the effects stronger for a cookie like that?

Oooooo! That’s an interesting thought! Unfortunately, there’s still little chance of escape. As while some bites do take mental tolls, such as Shadow Milk’s and Mystic Flour’s, all bites take a physical toll. Such as

Shadow Milk’s bite makes his darling feel like they’re being constricted. Like their heart and body are wrapped in the coils of a snake. Painful and ever tightening, his darling slowly finds it harder and harder to think, move, or even breathe.

Mystic Flour’s bite causes the limbs and body to slowly grow heavier the farther you get from her once the bite goes into effect. And before you know, you can’t feel your hands and feet… or legs and arms… or… anything… by that time, the bite has rendered you incapable of moving any further, like a paralyzing neurotoxin, and she’ll be there to retrieve you momentarily.

Burning Spice’s bite is unfortunately the worst. You have my sympathy, especially if you have a low pain tolerance, bc I won’t lie… the farther and farther you get from him, the hotter your body becomes, until you’ve collapsed in agony bc you feel like you’re being burned alive, like your organs are melting, like your jam is boiling, like your body is destroying itself.

Eternal Sugar’s bite is the least painful and concerning to her darling. It mostly just causes a wave of sleepiness to overcome them that they are slowly incapable of overcoming. It forces them to rest, to just… get a lil shut eye… then they can keep going to escape… but once you wake up, you’re right back where you started; in her arms. And she’s not letting you leave again any time soon.

Silent Salt’s bite feels like an unbearable pressure weighing down on you, almost as though you’re being crushed. Not only that, but it feels as though their sword is stabbing you right where they bit you.

They’ve been around a long time. Since the beginning of Earthbread, they’ve roamed the cookie world. They have ensured that their bite will leave an escaping darling incapacitated in more ways than one until they can drag them back. So just stop fighting. It’ll be easier for everyone, especially yourself, if you do. They’re not going anywhere any time soon… and neither are you…

[peachdues]

Dad Sanemi finding out you're expecting again!

done and done! Also requested by @lisa-257

FINDING OUT YOU’RE PREGNANT AGAIN

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA X LUNAR PILLAR!READER!

A/N: a continuation of my Bundle of Joy series, in celebration of one year since its publication!

CW: 1.9k • MDNI • fluff • pregnancy mention • Sanemi and Reader are married • slightly suggestive in parts/references to sex

READ BUNDLE OF JOY HERE

It had been a normal day. You’d awoken well before dawn and departed Sanemi’s estate with a quick kiss for both him and your daughter before returning to your own to prepare your training yard from the group of new Juniors being sent for defensive training — your speciality as the Lunar Pillar.

That training had gone about as well as you’d been warned it would — which was to say, absolutely dreadful. Nearly all lower-ranked Slayers were close to passing out not even an hour into their defensive drills.

The only one who’d stood out was the young, eager Kamado boy, who’d offered to partner with to test his footwork.

“Excellent!” You praised as Kamado manage to parry another one of your attacks with a training blade. “The best I’ve seen today!” You whirled around his attempt at an offensive jab with ease. “In fact, I think —“

A sudden, splitting pain ripped across your head, whiting out your vision. There was a sharp, keening ring in your ears, and all at once, the familiar training yard of your estate faded away with a distant, worried call of your surname.

You did not realize you’d fainted until your eyes flittered open, and you found yourself blearily staring at the blue of the sky above.

In your periphery, you saw the clustered, worried faces of your subordinates, anxiously peering down at you.

Before you could ponder exactly how you’d ended up on your back on the ground, your mouth welled with saliva, hot and bitter, and your stomach lurched.

You’d barely managed to flip over to your knees before you began wretching. Between the great, shudderkng gasps of air you managed to gulp down, you did not see your crow take off from its nearby perch with a hurried beat of its wings.

You’re fighting to rise to your feet when the tension in the air noticeably shifts. A sudden electricity settles over the juniors, a hushed murmur snaking its way through the throng.

The crowd of Slayers swiftly parts around as the Wind Pillar furiously makes his way toward you.

You’re still crouched on one knee, hand pressed to your mouth in some futile effort to keep the contents of your breakfast from making a reappearance splattered across the dirt.

Your husband kneels down next to you, his warm, comforting hand resting between your shoulder blades. You fight the urge to lean into him; the morale of the greater Corps is just as important as their training, and it would only be undermined by the sight of a vulnerable Hashira.

But Sanemi knows how to read you better than anyone, and he must sense your hesitation. “Whoever hasn’t resumed training by the time I stand is being sent to my estate for obedience lessons.” He barks.

There’s a pause before he adds, “And I don’t use training swords.”

Though you’re fighting to keep from dry heaving into the dirt, you can’t help the small smile that forms on the corners of your lips at the flurry of anxious movement and the telltale sound of practice weapons colliding in choreographed defensive maneuvers.

Sanemi’s tone is much softer as he murmurs your name. “Can you stand?”

You manage a stiff nod. The white-knuckled grip on his hand as you rise on shaky legs would crush the fingers of anyone else that wasn’t him.

Sanemi’s hold on you remains steady as you stand, and he is right there when your knees buckle, his body pushed against yours to keep you upright.

Gently, Sanemi eases you back down to your knees. He squats beside you, his arm wrapping firmly around your waist for extra support.

Your eyes lift to his, and with a groan, you know his orders before he speaks them.

“Kocho’s. Now.”

You shake your head. “I have to finish their training —“

The Wind Pillar stands then, and though you cannot see his face, you can imagine the twist of his mouth; the hard look in his eyes.

“All of you!” His raised voice startles several of the junior Corps members, some dropping their training swords as they stand at attention. “Defensive training is finished for the day. Fuck off to the Love Pillar’s estate.“

You flick your eyes up to see the gaggle of young slayers staring wide-eyed and anxious at your husband.

“Now!”

The younger Corps members jolt into action, quickly putting away the tools and props you’d organized for the day and gathering their things.

Sanemi turns his attention back to you. He waits until the last of the trainees departs your Estate with a respectful but hasty bow, before he gathers you up in his arms.

“You must really feel bad if you’re not bitchin’ me out about carrying you.” Sanemi frowns as you loop your arm over his shoulder.

Your eyes remain squeezed shut against your nausea, and you managed nothing more than a grumbled shut up as Sanemi hastily makes his way toward the Butterfly Mansion.

You try and focus on Sanemi’s steady warmth as it bleeds into you; the familiar and comforting scent of sweet matcha that lingers on his skin, a welcome distraction from the way your head spins and aches.

The soothing hallmarks of your husband almost lull you to sleep, when the image of the other half of your heart — of cherub cheeks and a mop of white hair just like her father’s flashes through your mind.

Your eyes suddenly fly open, wide and anxious.

Your daughter. Because you’d been dealing with the bulk of junior slayers, Sanemi had been tasked with keeping your daughter occupied for the day. You’d last seen her earlier that morning at his estate, happily stumbling after a butterfly in her father’s garden.

You stiffen in Sanemi’s arms. “Where is —?”

“She’s with Uzui’s girls,” he’s quick to reassure, and he twists his head to press a soothing kiss to your temple. “I’d brought her with me to discuss training plans when your crow arrived. Hinatsuru offered to take her so I could check on you.”

It does little to soothe the pit in your stomach. “I don’t wish to burden them —“

“They insisted,” Sanemi says simply. “They all jump at the chance to watch her — Uzui, too.”

He wasn’t wrong; your daughter had the entire Uzui family wrapped around her tiny fist.

Sanemi squeezes your waist. “She’s fine — and she’ll be more than happy to see her Mama later. Let’s focus on getting you checked out for now.”

—

You arrive at the Butterfly Mansion in record time. You have to fight the Wind Pillar before he’ll put you down and allow you to walk into the Manor on your own legs.

Sanemi acquiesces, but his arm does not leave its stabling place on your waist.

The Insect Pillar, thankfully, is home and able promptly guide you into a private examination room she reserves for your peers. A quick draw of blood into a glass vial later, and Kocho whisks back to her office to analyze it.

Sanemi sits with you the whole time, chatting with Kocho, his arm around your shoulders, his thumb turning soothing circles into your skin.

But the longer the two of you wait after the petite doctor leaves to run her tests, the more your anxiety mounts.

Your nerves must have begun to sink beneath Sanemi’s skin, for he’d left the examination room a few minutes prior in search of the Insect Pillar, nearly as desperate as you to know what she’d found.

He hadn’t yet returned, leaving you to chew anxiously on your thumbnail, your foot jiggling where it hung over the edge of the table where you sat.

Another minute or two passes, and then the door to the examination room flings open with a start. Faster than you can blink, the Wind Pillar is striding toward you with a broad smile on his face.

“What is —?” Sanemi’s hands — battle-worn and rough — are gentle as they cradle your cheeks, and he silences your question with a sweet but deep kiss.

“You’re pregnant,” he breathes excitedly against your lips, his forehead coming to rest against yours. “You’re pregnant. Kocho confirmed it.”

His eyelashes tickle your cheeks as he kisses you again and again, Sanemi beaming between each eager touch of your lips.

“That didn’t take long, did it?” You tease. “I mentioned wanting another child not even two months ago

“Who am I to deny my wife what she desires?” he grins with equal smugness and elation. “Especially when she asks so sweetly, all bent over for me —“

You clamp your hand over his mouth. “Shush,” you hiss, though you can’t fight your own smile. “Kocho can hear everything —“

“I knew it.” Sanemi boasts, stepping back to bring your knuckles to his lips, his eyes shining. “I knew when you asked for yudofu twice this week that you were pregnant —“

“I’ve always liked yudofu.”

“It was all you ate last time,” and his grin is broad. “Couldn’t get you to choke down anythin’ else for a solid month at one point. Drove me fuckin’ nuts.”

Sanemi’s lips press to your ear as he leans in close, his voice quieting to a sultry whisper. “And you’ve been asking me to take care of those pretty breasts of yours more frequently, haven’t you?”

Your cheeks burn a deep shade of crimson. It was true — they’d been aching and sore. So tender that you’d even contemplated foregoing the sarashi bindings you wore beneath your uniform shirt.

So you had; once, a few weeks earlier.

You hadn’t made it out of your bedroom before you’d been caught by your husband, bug-eyed and blushing as he gaped at your partially-exposed chest. Your uniform shirt had closely resembled his own without the security of your bindings, and yet you’d known, thanks to your skirt, that your attire likely bore a resemblance to that of the Love Pillar’s.

You’d both ended up late to training that day.

Since that day, Sanemi had been more than eager to continue helping after you’d insisted his hot mouth and expert tongue were capable of alleviating some of that tender ache.

You want to groan at yourself. It should have been obvious, once it was clear that your sore chest had not been heralding in your monthly cycle.

But before you can, Sanemi resumes lavishing you with his joyful kisses.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” He murmurs against your lips, nuzzling your nose with his. “You’re a goddamn goddess, you know that? So fuckin’ beautiful.“

This time, Sanemi tilts your head so he can deepen his next kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth the moment you open for him.

“Thank you,” he breathes, thumb stroking your cheeks. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“You did just as much work as I did,” you chuckle between his slow, sensual kisses. “Arguably more.”

He pulls away with a light huff, the hand on your cheek sliding to cup the back of your head and bring you in tight against him.

“I ain’t ever gonna stop thanking you,” Sanemi whispers reverently against your hair, his fingers trailing up and down your spine. “‘M never not gonna worship the ground you walk on for makin’ me a father. Not in a hundred years.”

Whether it’s because your emotions are already high out of elation over your news, or because Sanemi’s words — so earnest and full of love — strike that soft part of your heart reserved for him and him alone, your eyes burn with tears.

And even Sanemi’s voice cracks as he whispers, “Thank you. Thank you for choosing me.”

REBLOGS/COMMENTS/LIKES ALWAYS APPRECIATED!

[thekinslayed]

Humble Servant

summary | Working under the service of king Aemond Targaryen, you were eager to attend to his every need.

pairing | king!aemond targaryen x servant!reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! oral (m), heavy voyeurism, unprotected sex, aemond is in his medieval fuckboy era, squirting, book!aemond-leaning, oral (f), KING AEMOND 😮‍💨

wordcount | 4.2k

note | trying to fight thru the writer's block but this writer's block got hands 😵‍💫 but it won't stope me from being at the forefront of the Aemond's Got Bitches agenda!!

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated! (divider graphic is from this website)

As the smoke cleared at the end of the dragons’ dance, Aemond the Kinslayer emerged as the sole victor of the tumultuous war. A brother scarred and poisoned, a half-sister eaten alive, a mother driven to madness. It was clear that the Iron Throne was his to claim. None else was suited for it more than he. His prowess was proven, his wit unmatched, and his dragon indestructible. The one-eyed Targaryen managed to subdue the ravenous Wolf, had the Sea Snake sue for peace before driving his sword through his heart, and sent the pretender’s younglings to forge their chains at the Citadel. With no other forces questioning his claim, Aemond One-Eye made himself King. 

No other Targaryen had come into this much power since Maegor the Cruel, though history would find it befitting for such a cycle to propagate with him.

You were there for it all. From the taking of little Jaehaerys’ head, the return of a burnt king, to the fall of King’s Landing, you were there. The history books would not write your name down in its pages, no, you held no part in it. You were merely a shadow, a humble servant whose head hung low in the presence of nobility. It had always been this way, and it always will be. 

It was a curious thing, wasn’t it? The better part of your lowly life had been spent in the Keep’s walls, just like any other royal, yet you were as significant as a fly on the wall of their lavish tapestries. Where they feasted on the finest game and freshest berries, you ate what was left on their plates, bones and all. Though despite it all, you dared not question your station. 

Any semblance of importance to your name came when you had been tasked with attending to the king’s chambers. The first steps you had taken towards the royal apartments made your tummy feel fluttery, nerves jittery with a rambling agitation.

Despite his status and authority, there was little fuss under the new king’s service. He was clean, tidy, a man of good manners. Aemond let his servants do his work when needed, spending most of his time out of his chambers anyway. And on the off-chance you managed to be in the same vicinity, he would only spare you as little as a blink, or a low grumble of instruction. You were invisible, while he was the center around which your day revolved. Such was the order of things.

It had become customary to keep your head low and your hands busy despite the king’s presence. Be it while he supped, read, or entertained his lady guests. 

The one-eyed king, once a prince, used to be such a stickler for propriety. While Aegon II was known for his ways of women and wine, Aemond was of honor and pride. Such things were beneath him. Until he became king.

With the heavy steel crown seated upon his brow, he’d let himself indulge. Many a woman was invited to warm his bed, be it a servant, a noblewoman… or a bastard witch, according to some. With his power came his freedom from inhibition and the caging rigidity of his self-control. With his glory, Aemond Targaryen had become gluttonous for the ways of the flesh.

“Keep movin’, lass,” Magda grumbled, balancing a hot bucket of water on her hip. This was the last trip of waddling up the stairs to Maegor’s Holdfast for the night, heaving pails for the king’s bath. He liked them particularly hot, fresh off the boil with steam billowing off the copper tub. You, Magda, and two other girls made haste to finish your work, equally eager to be done for the day and to escape the loud thumping coming from the king’s private bedchamber.

“This one’s a loud one, ain’t she?” brown-eyed Ilya snickered, busy with pouring Dornish herbal scented oils into the steaming bath. High-pitched oh, oh, oh!’s sang in rhythm with the bedframe’s pounding, echoed by an occasional deep groan that penetrated through the wooden doors separating the solar and the bedchamber. The lady’s voice only grew higher in pitch, like a wolf howling into the night. This must be the red-haired Tully you passed in the halls, or the Lannister from the feast, you weren’t sure.  

“Must be getting fuckin’ ripped in half,” said a grumpy Magda, clutching her back as she bent to pick up her pail. Her words pulled a giggle from the girls, who continued their work as usual.  You weren’t particularly unbothered like the rest of them, with the hairs on your neck raised from such a scandalous predicament. You strained your ear to hear more of the deeper, manlier grunts mixed into the elevated moans, cheeks steadily warming when you did. It made your gut feel swarmed by something inexplicable, your fingers tingly. You wondered what could it be that made the lady scream so loud in the king’s bed. Jon the stable boy certainly hadn’t made you howl as such on that one regretful night, with both of you dazed from many cups of mead. It was no passionate affair, rather, a blind stumbling in the darkness that ended with both of you rolling in the hay. Sure, it was alright, but it didn’t make you cry out like a banshee. It made you curious. 

With the last pail of water tipped into the tub, you followed the other servants out of the king’s solar. As the door behind you closed, you heard another one open, and it had taken all of your might to keep your head from turning to catch a peek at the silver-haired man.

You really thought yourself better, immune to it all, but you just couldn’t help yourself. Being at an arm’s width of the king’s proclivities had started to bother you, made your blood run hot the moment you stepped foot into his door. It had you seeing him in a different light. His scar and threatening aura may have once frightened you, but it allured you now. With his silky, waist-length hair and that trim waist, he was beautiful in ways that made you question whether he was a real being, or rather one of the Valyrian gods come down on to soil. His prolific skill with a sword was now written into song, but his strength in other endeavors was starting to make itself known. He must be one hell of a man to have all these women singing their songs of pleasure every night in his bed, and your curiosity had grown into a towering beast impossible to endure.

Maegor’s tunnels were less of a secret than the Targaryens ought it to be. The silver-haired royals weren’t the only ones wary of the passage, some servants and staff alike were privy to the winding paths that led to the ins and outs of the Keep. Years of work had granted you such knowledge, and on one restless night, you found yourself taking the sharp corners that led to the royal chambers. You had been dismissed for the day only an hour past, but an itch in your heel had you turning around and slipping into the dark passageways before anyone could see. 

It seemed you were not the first to find yourself in such a place, evident by the holes poked into the thin plaster of the king’s bedroom walls, somewhere in between the ornate carvings of his bedframe’s headboard. Some other invisible soul had stood where you did now, curious for a single peek. 

These might have been from Aegon II’s time, or Jaehaerys’. Certainly not Viserys I’s.

You couldn’t tell if it was the red-haired Tully girl or the golden Lannister. Your position granted you only a view of her lower half, and in between her thighs, was a head of silver hair. The girl was squirming like a worm on his bed, legs messing the linens you had smoothed out just this morn while a hand gripped his silver tresses. 

“What did I say?” you heard the king speak. Just barely, with his face still buried in her cunt. The grip on his hair was released, dainty hand disappeared into the periphery to presumably grab onto the sheets instead.

He didn’t like his hair touched. What a shame. 

The sight was utterly debauched. Silver tresses swayed as he nodded his head to run his tongue down her slit, which pleased the woman, evident from the mewl that echoed through the night air. Her sounds could equal that of a mistress in the Streets of Silk, and you wondered how a proper lady could know how to moan like that. 

You could see his cheeks hollow and relax rhythmically as he sucked, and sucked. Something in your belly flipped in a fluster, and your core started to tingle, as though you could feel the phantom licks of the hot, wet muscle prodding into your center. Despite better judgment, you stayed stuck on your feet, thighs starting to rub together the longer you watched. 

Supple thighs turned dimpled in his large palms. For a second, you could almost feel its warmth, trailing from the back of your thighs to wrapping around the span of your neck. The ache in your cunt was slowly becoming too much to bear, tears of slick leaving your skin damp with need. You clenched your skirts in your fists, fighting back the urge to lead them to your heat. 

The lady was humping the king’s face now, and my, what a sight it was. His aquiline nose would surely make for a good seat to slide your nubbin on back and forth. Gods, what a lucky woman. You haven’t even caught a glimpse of his handsome face once, still ardent in his efforts to devour her whole. 

You caught the way his fingers replaced where his tongue had been, his focus shifting onto her pearl. This drove the lady to near madness, her voice rising just as the other one did. With his hand steadily scissoring in and out of her, thumb drawing circles on her pearl, the one-eyed king straightened to his full height. It was then a gasp that escaped your lips before you could stop it, but remained unheard against other sounds of the night. 

His cock stood erect in attention, flushed red in the amber glow of the candlelit room. It slapped against his taut, sculpted abdomen. He was chiseled in places you hadn’t seen any other man could be. Striated, sinewy muscles that flexed with every movement. 

By the Seven, this man was a god.

Your knees nearly buckled the moment he grabbed hold of his cock. His stroking was soft compared to the erratic thrusting of his other hand into the woman’s cunt. Her hips lifted off the mattress and her back arched like a cat. Mewls were turning into sobs as she teetered on something tremendous. Your palms were sweaty, as was the back of your neck, and your chest started to heave beside your comprehension. What was he doing to her? She sounded like a woman possessed. It was clear he had an intent for his sheer intensity. 

The answer came in a shower of clear liquid coming from her core, splattering on his muscled abdomen. The king looked as triumphant as he did in battle, an egotistic smirk dimpling his elegant face. Your eyes widened in shock. Never have you experienced something like that, or have even heard of it. This man might be an actual sorcerer… or a god. 

“That’s a good girl,” he praised her. His low drawl buzzed straight into your gut, and the unanswered tingle in your own cunny had become impossible to ignore. With the image of what you had just witnessed fresh in your memory, you scurried down the steps back to the servant’s quarters.

The ache in your arm come the morrow would hinder your scrubbing of stone tile, but your desire would be temporarily satiated… multiple times.

Huffing, you dusted the last of the king’s books on his shelves. You moved to wipe down the various items around the chambers— dragon figures, the brass Seven-Pointed Star by the windowsill, keepsakes that held slivers of who he was.  You made quick work of starting the fire next, he would want the hearth going by the time he supped. As you kneeled before the fireplace, throwing in the fresh-cut wood the woodsman had brought in, the door to the royal solar slammed open.

An angry king storming into the room had you by surprise, jolting straight to your feet to give an ungraceful curtsy. Your heart hammered thunderously at such a sudden startlement, though it failed to cease at the realization of being held alone with the one-eyed king. He eyed your trembling form, a lone gaze so sharp that it rendered you unable to hold your chin up.

“Y-your grace,” you stuttered, tongue slippery with nerves. “I-I am starting on the fire, my king. It would only be just a moment.”

With a mere grunt and a wave of his hand, king Aemond left you to do your work. He was grumbling under his breath, small fragments like ‘lot of fools’ and ‘insipid questioning’ barely audible to your ear. You suspected the discussion with the Small Council hadn’t gone well. It only took little to subject the king to anger, this you learned in your time under his service. What may ticked him off could have been something of such little consequence, though, with His Grace, it never was. 

With a fire successfully ignited, a pleasant warmth began to spread into the space. Satisfied, you lifted yourself off your knees, brushing the flecks of ash from your skirts. You would have to clean that come morn.

Having completed all the work needed before supper, you quickly gathered your basket of items, willing yourself to ignore the man sat with his legs splayed open as he pored over the newest parchments. After heaving the bin onto your hip, you turned to leave with another respectful bow.

“Wait,” he suddenly spoke, stopping you in your tracks.

Wide-eyed, you swiftly turned to look at the silver-haired Targaryen, whose good eye was now lifted from the letter and, oddly enough, directed onto you. 

“My king?” you asked. “Was there anything else I may do for you?”

He was silent for a moment, calculating gaze merely stared back at you. The tips of your ears warmed in an instant under the foreign light of his attention. You swore you saw the corner of his lips lifting, but it returned to his feline pout in a blink.

“You forgot something.”

His words caught you in a stupor. You looked at him in confusion, unsure of what he meant. It didn’t help that he looked utterly ravishing with the embroidered leather doublet he wore. He looked the best in black.

His good eye glanced to the floor at the dirtied rag left at the foot of the table, the realization hitting you embarrassingly late. “Oh! Forgive me,” you expressed, quickly placing your basket back onto the floor to grab the forgotten cloth. Your skin prickled when his eye followed your every step, staring as you bent over to retrieve the rag. 

“How long have you been a servant of mine, girl?” he asked, taking you again by surprise. 

“Since the coronation, your grace,” you answered, gripping the fabric tight as you forced yourself to keep your composure in your king’s presence. Aemond merely hummed in response.

“You must know all of what I need then? What pleases me and what does not? It is the least I expect for someone serving me for this long,” he questioned, tilting his head with a raised brow. You nodded your head meekly, the entirety of your face warming, though clearly not caused by the fire.

“Magda has taught us well, your grace. Whatever else you require of me I shall be happy to fulfill,” you informed him, an eager glint in your eye that earned you another hum from your king.

“Good,” he said. “On your knees then.”

Your mouth gaped like a fish, caught in shock at the sudden command. Incoherent stammers were your only response, baffled mind unable to make sense of such progression. “Your grace? I—“

“You asked me what I require of you. Would you deny your king of his needs? I do not like repeating myself, girl.”

Dropping the cloth back to the floor, you made your way in between his thighs, descending onto your knees. You stared, wide-eyed like a doe, as he studied you under the tip of his nose. Long, wispy lashes moved with his every blink and it was then you realized the gods may have some pity on you after all. The cheap linen of your skirts was crumpled into your sweaty fists, breath shuddering when he started to pull on the laces of his breeches. Time moved all too slowly. The thumping in your chest started back up while you waited in anticipation. 

The breath hitched in your throat couldn’t be helped when his large, calloused hand pulled out his cock. It was pretty, even more appealing up close despite still being half-mast. With a hold on his base, Aemond nodded his head at you in urging. 

Gulping down your nerves, you took his slowly hardening tip into your mouth. He had a certain taste about him, a slight saltiness, perhaps bitterness, but hardly unpleasant. Slow, steady bobs of your head stiffened his length into full arousal. From his pubic bone, Aemond’s hand traveled to the coif on the top of your head, pulling the linen away. Freed locks cascaded over your back, a warmth settling on your occiput as your king gently guided you up and down his shaft. You hollowed your cheeks when you took all of him in, earning a good grunt from your king.

“Must not be the first cock you sucked, then?” he mentioned, smooth voice taking on a rasp. With your mouth full, you could only look at him under your lashes. Surely, the king had no intent to hear about young Henry and the afternoons you spent messing about in his father’s shed back home. You may be out of practice, but you were eager to please.

The reason for his sudden interest baffled you. Had you known, you would have taken the time to make yourself presentable. You were coated with a sheen of sweat after having worked all day, your clothes were a mess, and Hells, you hadn’t so much washed the parts that needed to be washed!

Your bobbing soon took up a faster pace. You kept your hands still glued to yourself despite wanting to grasp at his muscular thighs, barely remembering his preference from the other night past. He seemed to be pleased, much to your delight, with his head thrown back over the edge of his seat and his good eye closed shut. Filled with renewed courage, you directed your tongue back to his tip, while your hand stroked the rest of his shaft. The sounds you have yearned to hear soon floated into your ear, soft grunts leaving his grace’s lips. A particularly ardent lick over his cockhead had his length twitching in your hold. It filled you with pride, as well as a budding desire bubbling in your tummy. There was no doubt your cunny would be wet with slick if one took a peek. It had started shedding its tears of arousal the moment your knees hit the floor. 

All too sudden, the one-eyed king pulled you off his cock, ordering you to lose your smallclothes. You had done so in haste, nimble fingers tugging on the ribbons before he hoisted you onto his lap. From then on, you were at his mercy. He speared you onto his cock with no hesitation, bouncing you up and down swiftly. There was no moment spared for you to relish in the sensation of your king breaching your walls, though you found you had little complaints. 

You were starting to understand how he had all those women crying out for him in his bed. He was all-consuming, ravishing every bit of you until you were reduced to nothing but putty. He rendered you witless, out of body. You moved by his accord, rode him the way he liked. Before you knew it, lewd sounds soon began to spill from your lips, sounds you had never heard yourself let out.

“M-my king…” you mewled.

“Wet like the fucking whore you are,” Aemond groaned, delivering a smack to your rear that made you squeal. 

With his face closer to you than it ever will be for the rest of your life, the urge for a kiss couldn’t be helped. You dipped your head to chase his lips, but he turned his head to the side with a grunt. Firm hands soon pulled you off his lap, turning you around. 

The new position had his cock reaching even deeper into your walls. You held onto the armrests of the seat for dear life, struggling to keep up with the brutal pace your king demanded. The plump flesh of your arse met his hips in a wet smack, the sound filling the vast, quiet room. Years of working on your feet blessed you with strong thighs that held you up with every bounce.

Never in your wildest wishes did the fruit of your labors include getting fucked by your king. Was this what your life has amounted to? Would this be the only moment where you were granted a sliver of value in your measly unimportance? Shame should be what you felt, but you hardly had room for it, not when your king’s cock felt too good.

It was evident he was nearing his end, and you were barreling straight towards yours. His grip shifted to take hold of the crooks of your elbows, using you for leverage to lift his hips to meet yours. How deeply you wished to catch a glimpse of his blissed-out face, but that would mean displeasing him. You couldn’t afford to do so, not when you were teetering on the edge of your pleasure. 

Your release sneaked upon you with no other forewarning. You came with a loud cry, spilling all over his length. If Aemond held any regard for your high, he made no show of it, continuing to drill into you to chase his. The tight spasming of your walls pulled harsher grunts from his lips, and harsher thrusts. Soon enough, he was pulling out of you, painting your lower back with his spend. Thick, pearly royal speed dripped down onto your rear, warm against your flesh. Without any other moment to waste, the king pulled you off his lap, dismissing you with a breathless huff.

“That will be all. You may take your leave.”

“Where the hell have you been? This food’s about to get damn cold and I don’t need the king throwin’ it back in my face because of you!” Magda berated, rightfully angered with your tardy arrival to the kitchen. You were out of breath from rushing out of the king’s chambers, cheeks still flushed like a ripe berry. 

“Sorry, Magda. His grace’s requests held me back,” you apologized with a sheepish smile. The secret to your special service to the king would have to remain a secret, a blissful encounter you were sure to look back on with satisfaction. 

The older maid regarded you with a displeased look, before pointing to the dishes needed to be brought up to his grace’s chambers. “Just as long we keep the pretty boy pleased, aye?” 

The heat in your chest returned at her words, settling into a tingle in your fingertips. You smiled at her, eyes glinting with an eagerness that almost made the head servant raise suspicion. There was no doubt what you would do to keep your king happy. With his satisfaction, came yours.

“Aye,” you responded, nodding in agreement.

In the days that followed, you worked with an enthusiasm akin to the spark you had when you first arrived at the Keep. You spent time ensuring every nook and cranny was spotless, the king’s boots properly polished, and his bath rightfully steaming the moment he requested it. 

It would soon prove to be a foolish endeavor, but you held out hope for him to call on you once more. Perhaps he would take you on his bed, just like he did with other women. Such hopes were crushed when your king barely spared you a glance, just like he always did. In your boldness, you had even tried to meet his eye on the off-chance he came into his chambers while you were there, which earned nothing but a sharp scolding from Magda. His last exchange hadn’t even been filled with any words, but merely in the form of a steaming cup of moon tea and a few silver dragons awaiting you in your quarters.

Soon, you were reduced into a shadow once more, a figure unseen in the king’s eye. Your excitement wearied down into a dismayed chagrin, yet still, your part never changed. It was all a cycle, you realized. And with the arrival of a comely Baratheon girl into court, you were back to ignoring the pounding in the king’s walls. 

[specsthesecond]

🐍🗡

It was a mistake to come here. A foolish attempt at proving yourself. Both the sword and shield are heavy in your untrained grasp. Regrets grew with every step towards the gorgon’s garden, littered with stone corpses of much stronger fighters than you, all frozen in permanent anguish.

Your skin is prickling before you even see the beast. You walk backwards, using the reflection in your shield as your eyes. All you need is a glimpse of the monster and your heart leaps, as If trying to escape your chest. Despite the snakes writhing atop her head and the scales covering her body, the thing that strikes you most is her eyes. A piercing yellow gaze that makes you feel like a prey animal, it triggers your flight response without a thought.

You don’t make it far, in your haste you trip over the hard shell of what was once a person, hitting the floor and dropping your sword. Your arm makes a sickening crack on impact and you can barely even attempt to reach for your sword, as if you could fight a beast like that anyway.

You rush to cover your eyes and sob leaves your mouth as you hear the monster step closer.

"And who might you be?"

A melodic voice calls out, filled with what sounds like genuine curiosity. You resist the urge to look over, just to confirm that such a beautiful voice came from such a beast. Her steps halt where your body is curled up on the hard gravel, you’re sure it's a pitiful sight. She must think it's funny, in pursuit of heroism, you will die a coward like those before you.

When you hear her kneel down to your height, you tense further, readying yourself for a sudden blow, a strike, anything.

Hands reach down to your wet cheeks, they gently lift your head up and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter. Will she try and force your eyes open? Her grasp is not forceful or agitated, she lets you struggle, carefully guiding your face up towards her as if you were a frightened animal. She only stops when you cry harder and clutch your injured arm. She moves your head so it rests on her legs, lightly shushing you when you choke out cries of pain and fear.

The pads of her thumbs swipe the tears from your eyes and you feel her lean down closer to you. Tiny hissing surrounds you. You can feel them, dozens of snakes probing and prodding at your hair, face, neck, anywhere that interests them. You want to hide, you want to scream, you want to run but all you can do is keep your eyes shut and cry.

Afraid that the snakes will bite you if you move, It takes everything in you not to squirm in her tender hold as her thumbs caress your cheeks lightly. You can feel her breath on your face as she breathes softly through her nose, just inches away. You can feel her lethal eyes, burning your skin as she watches you silently with her petrifying eyes.

“They like you.”

She says, in a hushed tone, as if telling you a secret. You feel little forked tongues lick at the tear streaks on your cheeks. The sensation makes you flinch and turn your head in her lap, another cry escaping your mouth.

“Oh, I'm sorry. They don’t mean to scare you, poor thing.”

She coos, as if the snakes are the only reason you’re scared. The snakes retreat and she must see the way your eyebrows crease in utter confusion because she huffs through her nose. She places a hand over your eyes and holds your jaw up gently with the other. Not even the most skilled prophet could have prepared you for the feeling of her lips on yours.

She's soft and slow, as if coaxing a lover from sleep. Soft lips mould into yours as she swallows your surprised sound, her eyelashes flutter against your cheeks, the snakes nudge their little heads gently against your cheeks and nuzzle your head.

It’s very overwhelming and you whimper against her lips, a sound that makes her deepen the kiss even more. She licks your lower lip, nibbling on it with teeth too sharp for such a delicate action.

"You aren't like the others at all."

Her hushed voice muses against your lips, and the cruel fate mercilessly spins her thread.

[knifeforkspooncup]

Please click for better resolution!

I made this silly little art, and then like a being possessed, wrote 1200 words of pure unadulterated hogwash to go with it (ficlet below the cut)

Duck Duck Goose

Rating: Teen and up

"Shouldn't be feeding them bread." Crowley said, trying and failing to ward off an irate goose with the pointed toe of his boot. "It’s brioche." Aziraphale chided, as if that explained anything. A nattering crowd of ducks was forming at his feet like eager disciples. Crowley didn't ask where he'd gotten the brioche. He'd stuck his chilly hands into Aziraphale's pockets enough times now to know the list of things the angel kept on his person at any given moment was - well, impressive was one word for it. In the way a magpie's hoard of oddities was impressive. A brioche was quite pedestrian, really. "Brioche then.” The goose had moved on to striking repeatedly for his ankles, more pit viper than waterfowl. “Shouldn’t. Feed them. Brioche,” he gritted between defensive maneuvers. He never had gotten the hang of sword fighting. If Aziraphale heard, he pretended not to, ripping off hunks of bread at least double the esophagus diameter of the average mallard duck. One at a time, he tossed them lazily into the fray. The ducks erupted into chattering, nipping each other’s feathers. A shark frenzy had more natural order to it.

The goose took no interest, bloodlust overriding any desire for fine French baked goods. If anything, it doubled its effort to latch onto Crowley’s shin. Had geese always had teeth?

Aziraphale beamed at the chaos, halogen bright. Humming with self satisfaction, he brushed his hands of crumbs, and settled back against the bench. Crowley diverted a sliver of bodily coordination to snake one arm behind him, weaseling into the warm gap left by the angel’s impeccable posture.

This was a thing they did now, apparently. Not watching ducks squabble over bread – that part was old hat. But Aziraphale tucking himself neatly against Crowley's side? For all the world to see. Like he was one of Crowley's wings simply stowing away. Frankly, that hat still had the tag on it. Still had that new hat smell.

This was rapidly becoming their new normal. Embroidery on the familiar weave of their time together. They still did all the things they always had. They still went to the Ritz, where the waiter still assumed Aziraphale was paying for the bill. Crowley still pulled out the angel’s seat like a proper gentledemon.

None of that had changed.

Just now they also held hands on the table between courses, and Aziraphale fed Crowley bites of dessert straight from his spoon. Sometimes they even did exciting things with their feet under the table.

Aziraphale called it canoodling. Crowley was pretty sure that was a fussy type of dog. The kind that wore bows on its head and left the groomer looking like an ornamental hedge.

Whatever it was, it was nice. More than nice.

Take today for example. The clouds were parting, birds singing – the whole production; the sun sparkled just so, really putting the ol’ razzle dazzle on it all.

There went Aziraphale, tipping his head back against Crowley’s shoulder, eyes closing. Lashes sun-gilt and fanning on his rosy cheeks. Straight out of a renaissance painting. A nice, expensive renaissance painting, on with real lapis lazuli pigment for the eyes. The angel really knew when to lay it on thick.

“Oh, that’s quite nice, isn’t it.” Aziraphale sighed, basking in the warmth.

See, nice? It was nice. Five hundred years of coming here, and this moment was the most nice it had ever been. Crowley remembered when this place was a marshy field full of roving geese and snuffling pigs. When the trees that made this nice bench were just scrawny little saplings, runty and wind bitten. Had the bench gotten smaller? It used to feel immense, and not in the luxury Cadillac sense of the word. Used to fit Heaven and Hell between them with room to spare. Back when nice was a four letter –

The goose sunk it’s – definitely toothed – beak into Crowley’s shin, just above the boot.

Satisfied with its grip, it started to flail, giving the impression Crowley was a chewtoy it meant to thrash to death. The small part of Crowley’s brain reserved for humility was starting to believe it would succeed.

"Dinner? How would you feel about a nice, tasty Christmas goose?” Grunted Crowley, shaking his leg and raising his free hand, demonic miracle at the ready. He had just the goose in mind. “With all the trimmings. Could even do some plum sauce on the side if you like,"

Aziraphale frowned, eyes still closed. “…it’s October.”

“That a no, then? Don’t want to get a head start on the festivities?”

Aziraphale looked up just as Crowley managed to dislodge the fowl beast and punt it away like a feathery football. It came right back, tongue stuck out like a rude child and wheezing angrily.

He tsked, mouth thinning. “You’re terrible. Leave the poor thing alone.”

Crowley sputtered. “Wha – ha – me?! I’m not the one biting a boot like a lunatic!” Would that work? Biting it? Maybe the goose would bugger off if Crowley bit it back. Should he bite it back? He should probably bite it, shouldn’t he. Oh, Satan, he was going to get feathers stuck in his teeth.

The infernal creature hissed, undoubtedly reading his mind. Crowley hissed back, tongue forking menacingly if only for the sake of his own ego.

Aziraphale was staring at him and smiling. Well, smirking. Fondly. The corners of his mouth pinching his cheeks, eyes crinkling under a raised eyebrow. He even had a dimple forming on his chin. Ridiculous. Something in the inner workings of Crowley’s chest did its best impression of a snare drum.

“Shall we, my dear?” Said the Very Ridiculous Angel, stirring from Crowley’s side. He stood and straightened his jumper until there were no more wrinkles. Seeing Crowley still engaged in boot-to-beak combat with the feathery fiend, he added tartly: “Before someone gets killed.”

Crowley grumbled something about demonic wrath and taking bets, but slunk to his feet. He flicked his glasses down and shot a final, venomous glare at the goose before sidling up to Aziraphale and offering his arm.

Aziraphale took it, wedging warm hands into the crook of Crowley’s elbow. He made it look habitual, easy as. Just the natural thing to do. Right as rain.

He was faster than Crowley, at this part. At the settling in. He’d taken to it all like geese to psychological warfare.

“You mentioned dinner?” Said Aziraphale brightly, ducks parting obediently at their feet.

“Your turn to pick.” Crowley’s skin was sizzling, water on a hot frying pan.

Aziraphale was quiet for a moment, face thoughtful. He took dinner plans very seriously.

“How about Peking duck? From that lovely place just around the corner, the one with the comfortable chairs.”

Crowley gave him a sharp look, nearly spraining an eyebrow in the process.

The angel was looking resolutely ahead, expression perfectly blank save for the way his mouth twitched at the corners.

I love you, blurted Crowley’s brain.

“Every restaurant has comfortable chairs,” blurted his mouth. It was a fact. Every restaurant did have comfortable chairs. Or else. So far Crowley hadn’t met a chair that cared to find out about the or else – chairs not being very curious by nature.

Crowley would say all the other things later, of course. All the sappy, corny, sweet-nothing things. When they were home. When he could wash the burn down with something whispered and sinfully filthy. Something that would make Aziraphale turn pinker than a summer peach.

Aziraphale was watching him, gaze unspeakably soft. “I know, my dear,” he said.

“I know.”

[numbersandstars]

Nakshatras Paranormal Abilities List- Part 2

Here is a list of paranormal abilities of each nakshatra. It is a short list and needs to be more complete. I'm working on it but feel free to share any other abilities with your nakshatras in the comments or via pm. Thanks.❤️

Svati: Herb knowledge, growing plants that brings healing energy, Vastu/Feng Shui mastery, enlightenment, fighting demons. Connection with a sword or a weapon. Vishakha: Occult traditions, spiritual initiation, celibacy leads to spiritual powers, rituals. Connection with tigers, fire rituals, lightning strikes. Anuradha: Numerology, astrology, tantra, sufism and any other occult science, keeps secrets, occult gifts, devotion/bhakti. Connection with lakes, Krishna, Radha. Jyeshtha: Talismans, occult power, magical items, involved in secret societies. Connection with elder gods/goddesses. Mula: Herbal healing, exorcism, occult power, astrology, intuition, omen reading. Connection with Kali, ancient temples, cave temples, holy mountains, volcanoes, ruins. Purva Ashadha: Invigorating energy, using pendulum. Connection with goddesses, waterfalls. Uttara Ashadha: Snake charming, powerful position in religious institutions, setting up new beliefs, challenging the divine. Connection with elephants, Ganesha. Shravana: Clairaudience, clairvoyance, past life memories, strong intuition, magical music, prayers are heard. Connection with Vishnu. Dhanishta: Vastu/Feng Shui mastery, magical music, alchemy, healing (pulses), magick, controlling the elements. Connection with dolphins, warrior gods/goddesses. Shatabhisha: Herbal (flowers) healing, shamanism, discovery of secrets on nature, occult knowledge, astrology, all-seeing eye, keeps secrets, involved in secret organizations. Connection with the ocean, Varuna. Purva Bhadrapada: Alien and other entities contact, astrology, magick, tantras, extreme spiritual practices, prayers are heard. Connection with gurus, saints, graveyards, fire, fire breathing dragons. Uttara Bhadrapada: Brings rain, shamanism, deep spiritual practices, devotion/bhakti, astrology, magick, prayers are heard. Connection with water dragons, lightning, Lakshmi. Revati: Contact with the dead, astral traveling experiences, psychic, prophecies, devotion/bhakti. Connection with oceans, elephants, lighthouses.

See Part 1: from Ashvini to Chitra here.

[chrissssssmut]

Nymphomaniac succubi misamo x demon hunter male reader

THE HUNTER'S BARGAIN (SMUT)

Succubus!Mina x Succubus!Momo x Succubus!Sana x Demon Hunter!Male Reader

AN: Oh God MISAMO Succubi! This story is probably one of my favorite to write hehe. Enjoy!💗

The ruins were quiet when you entered, sword drawn and senses alert. Moonlight painted silver streaks across the cracked altar, where offerings once lay for gods that no longer listened. Now, only whispers echoed here. Faint, feminine ones.

You weren’t surprised.

You’d been tracking demonic energy for weeks—always one step behind the trail of vanished men and melted sigils. But this… this felt like bait. And you, like a fool, walked straight into it.

The scent hit first—cloying sweetness, like roses laced with blood and something far more carnal. Lust. Heavy, oppressive, impossible to ignore.

And then you heard them.

A giggle. A breath. A sigh.

"You made it, hunter," came a smooth voice from the shadows, low and elegant, silk-wrapped steel.

Mina stepped into view first. Graceful. Regal. Wearing something sheer that clung like fog, her eyes unreadable but gleaming. Her horns curled like a crown, her tail swaying with lazy authority.

"We were starting to think you’d never come," said another voice—lighter, sing-song, with a mischievous lilt.

Momo lounged on the broken edge of the altar like it was her throne. Her smile was wide, eyes glittering with amusement. One of her legs swayed back and forth as if bored… or anticipating something delicious.

Then came the third.

"Don’t be mean, Momo," Sana cooed, stepping close enough that you had to grip your blade tighter. She was close—too close. Her fingers brushed your chest, and her smile was far too tender. "He came for us. He couldn’t resist."

You shoved her back.

"You’re demons," you snapped. "I don’t need a reason to kill you."

Sana didn’t even flinch. If anything, she looked delighted.

"Ooh… feisty."

Mina’s head tilted. "But we’re not here to fight, little hunter. We’re here to make a deal."

You scowled. "I don’t make deals with parasites."

"Then make an exception," Momo purred, slipping off the altar and circling behind you, breath warm against your ear. "We only want one night. Let us devour you, and we’ll tell you where the high demon is nesting. You’ll get your victory… and a taste of something sweeter."

Sana twirled a finger in your hair. "Just one night. No tricks. No bindings. Just you… and us."

You could lie to yourself and say you were resisting for justice, but your fists were clenched because your blood was burning. Their presence wasn’t just seductive—it was invading. Magic hummed through the air like the thrum of a drumbeat deep in your chest. Your skin tingled where their gazes lingered.

"I could snap your neck right now," you growled.

Mina stepped closer. "Then why haven’t you?"

You met her gaze. Her lips curled slowly. A cruel little smile.

"...Fine," you bit out. "But I want the truth. About the demon."

"You’ll have it," Mina said, lifting a hand and tracing a glowing rune in the air. It shimmered gold for a second, then burst into flame.

"The circle is sealed," she said. "Now you can’t run."

Momo giggled. "Not that you’ll want to."

Sana leaned into your side, fingers snaking beneath your jacket. "Let’s see what a hunter tastes like."

You reached for your blade again—but it was too late. The circle had sealed.

Their eyes glowed.

Your fate was sealed.

The rune-circle flared beneath your feet.

A blinding rush of heat surged through the stone floor like a living thing, humming up your boots, coiling around your calves, licking higher with each second—like a serpent made of magic. You staggered slightly as the sensation wrapped your thighs, your spine, until it reached the base of your neck and burrowed into your skin like a lover's breath.

It wasn’t pain.

It was possession.

You weren’t afraid—but you were definitely hard. Painfully, shamefully hard. The kind of arousal that made you feel hunted from the inside out. Like your own body had betrayed you the moment they looked at you.

And they knew it.

“Mm, what’s this?” Momo’s voice sing-songed behind you like the sound of wicked wind chimes. Playful, cruel, curious. She stepped into your space with no hesitation, arms coiling around your waist. Her nails dragged across your abdomen, trailing lower.

“All that bravado,” she purred, “but you’re already twitching for us.”

Her fingers traced the outline of your cock beneath your gear—blatant and bold—and you clenched your jaw, fighting the involuntary jerk of your hips.

“Tch—get off—” you growled, trying to twist away. But she only laughed, soft and breathy, and began mouthing at your neck. Her lips grazed skin like silk, then bit down hard enough to leave a mark.

You didn’t know if it was a threat or a kiss.

“Momo,” came Mina’s voice from the front of the room—slow, regal, honey poured over ice. “Don’t break the toy before we’ve unwrapped him.”

Her tone was light, but you heard the command in it. And Momo heard it too.

“Fine,” she said with a mock sigh, licking the shell of your ear one last time. “I’ll be gentle… for now.”

“He’s not a toy,” Sana whispered suddenly from your right.

You hadn’t even noticed her move closer. Her voice was reverent. Starving. One hand brushed your cheek with surprising softness, the other already working at the buckles of your armor—like she'd memorized the way you were put together.

“He’s ours.”

The chest plate hit the stone floor with a heavy clang, echoing like the toll of a bell.

Your breathing grew shallow as their hands moved in tandem—slow, methodical, and maddeningly intimate. Each strap unbuckled, each piece of leather peeled away felt like another wall crumbling. Bit by bit, they unmade your armor, not like enemies disarming a warrior, but like lovers undressing their prize.

You stood there—bare, hard, and surrounded.

Still, you glared at Mina. The last thread of control.

“This is what demons do, huh?” you hissed. “Trap and seduce?”

Mina stepped into your space, and your heartbeat spiked. Her presence was overwhelming. A woman born of dark royalty, magic bleeding from her skin like perfume. She raised her hand and touched your jaw, forcing you to meet her gaze.

“No, hunter,” she murmured, voice velvet-dark. “This is what you chose. You could’ve walked away. You wanted this. You wanted us.”

You hated how your knees almost buckled at her tone.

Her voice poured into your head like wine—warm, drugging, delicious—and you could already feel yourself sliding under. Trembling, not from fear… but from anticipation.

“You act like this isn’t what you’ve dreamed of,” Mina whispered, leaning in so close her lips brushed your ear. “Being touched. Worshiped. Ruined.”

Behind you, Momo laughed.

“Mina’s right. You’re so easy to read,” she giggled. “Wanna bet I can make you cum with just my mouth? I’ll edge you until you beg like a good little mutt.”

Sana’s arms looped around your chest like vines made of silk, pulling herself flush against your back. Her lips found the nape of your neck. “Don’t listen to her, baby. You don’t have to beg. I’ll give you everything. I’ll ride you until you cry for it.”

You shuddered as her nails raked down your torso—light, then rough. Every nerve was singing. The magic circle pulsed with your heartbeat, and somewhere deep in your soul, you knew this was more than just physical. They weren’t just touching you. They were claiming you.

Then Mina guided you backward. The altar was cold stone, but you barely felt it. Your mind was heat and heartbeat and the brush of her fingers against your thighs. She pushed your legs apart and knelt between them with the ease of a queen descending to claim her throne.

She looked up at you.

“Don’t look away,” she whispered.

You didn’t.

You couldn’t.

Her lips descended. Slow. Sinful. She didn’t dive in. She savored you. Her tongue dragged a long, deliberate stripe from the base of your cock to the tip, pausing to press a soft, reverent kiss there.

“You taste like anger,” she murmured, voice low and hot against your skin. “I’ll fix that.”

Then her lips wrapped around you, and you nearly lost it right there.

Her mouth was perfect. Warm. Wet. Unyielding. She took you halfway, tongue flicking beneath the head with practiced cruelty. Her throat contracted when you tried to buck. Her hands held your thighs down with elegant force.

“F-fuck…”

Mina smiled around your cock.

Before you could lose your mind, Momo straddled your lap. Her skin was flushed and golden in the firelight. Naked. Hungry. Her hips rocked in lazy, teasing circles against your thigh.

She grinned, watching Mina’s pace, then leaned close.

“She’s good, right?” she whispered. “But I’m better.”

Her fingers pinched your nipple, and you gasped, body twitching.

“You’ll really lose it when it’s my turn.”

You whimpered as Mina slid deeper, suction tightening, her throat working around you like velvet heat. Then—pop—she pulled off with a delicate gasp, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.

And Momo shoved you down flat onto the altar.

“My turn~”

She didn’t waste time. Her body was all movement, all pressure. She rocked her soaked folds against your cock, coating you in her slick arousal. But she didn’t let you in. Not yet.

You tried to thrust up.

She smacked your thigh.

“Uh-uh,” she giggled. “Not until you beg. Say please, hunter. Say you need it.”

You growled, grabbing her hips, trying to wrest control—but she only smiled wider, like that was exactly what she wanted.

Then, without warning, she sank down. All of her. In one smooth, wet plunge.

Your head hit the altar with a groan.

“Oh fuck—”

“Yessss,” Momo moaned, rolling her hips. “That’s it. Stretch me. Fill me. Fucking use me.”

The rune circle throbbed with each thrust. Every movement echoed in your bones, magnified by the magic. You couldn’t tell where her heat ended and yours began.

From the edge of the altar, Sana watched with wide eyes and flushed skin, fingers buried between her thighs. Her voice was low, broken with breath. “You’re so beautiful like this. Ruined. Shaking. Desperate.”

Momo leaned down and bit your lip.

“Don’t finish yet,” she whispered, eyes glowing. “We’re not done with you.”

She pulled off, slick and gasping—and just when your orgasm threatened to snap—

Sana was there.

Her body coiled over yours like vines in bloom. She grabbed your wrists, pinned them down, and kissed you so hard you saw stars. Then she aligned herself—and slammed down onto your cock.

You choked.

“I need it,” she moaned, trembling. “I’ve needed you for so long.”

You tried to speak. To push her back. But she caught your face between her hands and rode you like you were the only thing keeping her alive.

“Mine,” she snarled. “You’re mine now.”

Her nails raked blood across your chest. Her pace was desperate—sloppy and perfect. She kissed you between every moan, her voice breaking.

“I’ll kill anyone who touches you,” she hissed, hips slamming into yours. “I’ll fuck you until you forget every other name but mine. You love this. You love me. Say it.”

You couldn’t.

You came.

Harder than you ever had.

Your body arched. Your scream echoed through the runes. And Sana collapsed against your chest, twitching through her own orgasm, sobbing your name like a prayer.

But the circle didn’t break.

Because Mina was already crawling over you again, her fingers glowing with summoned power.

“Oh no, hunter,” she purred, straddling your hips with slow grace. “We said one night…”

Her smile deepened.

“Not one round.”

The air reeked of sex, sweat, and something older. Darker. A magic that curled around your spine like smoke.

You should’ve been done. Spent. Empty.

But the circle pulsed again.

And Mina's voice cut through your haze like the whisper of a blade.

“Don’t fade yet, hunter,” she purred, her bare thighs straddling your hips again. Her cunt hovered just above your cock—still twitching, still hard. “We’re not even close to done.”

Your hands clenched against the stone.

“No,” you growled.

Mina raised a brow.

“No?” she echoed, amused.

You sat up fast, forcing Sana off your chest and catching Mina by the shoulders before she could mount you again. She gasped—just barely surprised—and you pushed her back, flipping her onto her back. For a moment, just a breath, you were in control. Your body moved on instinct, adrenaline cutting through the afterglow like a blade through silk.

“You think I’m just gonna lie here and let you use me?” you hissed, looming over her. “I’m not some toy for you to—”

Before you could finish, something snaked around your wrist.

You barely had time to look down before another slick, smooth appendage looped around your other arm—tightening—and then more coiled around your ankles, dragging your legs wide open.

“What the f—?”

They were tails.

Prehensile. Velvet-slick. Unbelievably strong.

Momo stood behind you, smirking as her long, shadowy tail wound around your chest like a rope, yanking you backward until your spine hit the altar. “Aw, you thought you had a choice?” she teased. “That’s cute.”

Her tail stroked your abs, down your hip, before sliding deliberately along your shaft. You twitched—still sensitive, still hard.

“You came once,” Sana whispered, her own tail curling around your thigh like a snake ready to strike. “That doesn’t mean we’re done.” Her voice dropped, trembling with need. “You’re still hard. Still leaking. Still ours.”

You thrashed against their grip, muscles burning with resistance. “Let me go.”

Mina leaned over you again, her tail slithering around your neck like a choker—tight enough to warn, loose enough to tease. Her hair brushed your cheek as she whispered:

“You can fight us all night, hunter. We like it when they struggle.”

Then you screamed—because three slick tails coiled around your cock.

Not tightly—perfectly. Stroking. Twisting. Teasing.

You tried to buck, but Momo's tail wrapped tighter around your chest, pinning you down. Sana climbed onto your chest, straddling your ribs as she kissed you with wild, open hunger. Her tongue tasted like sin. Her hands cradled your face like she was holding a holy relic.

“We’ll edge you for hours,” she moaned against your lips. “We’ll make you cum without ever touching you directly. We’ll break you, baby.”

Mina’s tail squeezed gently at the base of your cock while the tip rubbed lazy circles just beneath your tip.

“You’ll beg us to let you finish,” she whispered. “And we’ll still say no.”

You were panting now, head thrashing side to side. Your cock pulsed under their touch—every stroke, every squeeze, too much and not enough.

“You’re not ready to cum yet,” Momo sang. “Not until you’re crying. Not until you’re ruined.”

You shouted in defiance, hips jerking—only for their tails to tighten and stop you cold. One stroked your tip with obscene gentleness. Another dragged along the underside of your shaft, teasing your most sensitive spot.

It was hell.

It was heaven.

“I can feel it,” Mina whispered, mouth at your ear. “You’re close again, aren’t you? Already?”

You bit your lip. Blood beaded.

Sana cupped your face. “Let go,” she whispered. “Or don’t. Either way… we’ll make you ours.”

The rune-circle glowed brighter.

And your body betrayed you.

Your cock throbbed violently—but they stopped.

Everything stopped.

No stimulation. No release. Just that ache. That overwhelming, unbearable need.

You snarled, desperate, humiliated.

Mina laughed softly.

“Round three, then.”

Your breath came in ragged gasps. Sweat pooled beneath your back, chest heaving like you’d fought through hell—and maybe you had. But you were still hard. Still bound. The succubi’s tails slithered over your body like serpents of living silk, every twitch, every stroke a cruel tease.

Your cock was flushed, twitching, leaking—angry red and glistening under the altar’s glow.

“You’re such a mess,” Momo purred, crouching over you like a beast in heat. “All that fighting, and now look at you. Cock begging. Body shaking. And we’ve barely even started.”

She mounted you again—fast, without warning. You gasped as she slid down your length, wet heat engulfing you with a tight, greedy grip.

“Fuck—Momo—”

Her hips rolled smoothly, grinding against your pelvis in slow, intoxicating waves. Her hands flattened on your chest as she leaned over you, eyes locked to yours.

“But you don’t get to finish,” she whispered with a smirk.

Before you could respond, she lifted off. Pulled off. Her folds slicked your shaft, and your body screamed for release—but it never came.

You thrashed, moaning through your teeth.

“No—!”

Sana was already there to replace her. She was trembling with need, her thighs soaked, her mouth slack with hunger. She slid onto you slowly, her eyes fluttering shut with every inch she took.

“I need this,” she moaned. “I need to feel you inside while you suffer—while you belong to us.”

Her walls clenched around you in maddening pulses. You tried to thrust—anything to reach the edge she teased—but her tail coiled tighter around your hips, holding you still.

Then she moved.

Not with rhythm—but chaos. Wild, frantic, desperate bouncing that made you twitch on the brink of orgasm so violently, your vision blurred.

And then she stopped.

Pulled off.

Your scream echoed through the chamber—raw and animalistic.

“Please—fuck—”

“Not yet,” Mina cooed, brushing a lock of hair from your forehead. She wasn’t riding you. Not yet. Instead, she held a blade.

Not metal.

A curved, obsidian dagger that shimmered with demonic runes.

“You’re resisting again,” she whispered. “Let’s fix that.”

You didn’t even have time to flinch before she dragged the blade along your collarbone—slow, deliberate. It wasn’t deep, but it burned like fire. You howled, back arching off the altar as blood trickled down your chest.

Mina kissed the wound, moaning softly.

“First mark,” she whispered. “You’ll wear more.”

Another cut—your thigh this time. Momo ground down on your lap harder as she watched your skin split.

“Yes,” she moaned, licking her lips. “Scream for us again.”

And you did—another guttural cry as Mina carved a third mark over your ribs. Each wound bled slowly, the rune-circle glowing brighter with every drop.

Sana’s lips found your neck, and her fangs—small but razor-sharp—bit down.

You shouted, jerking beneath them.

“I want to hear more,” she growled against your skin. “You scream so sweet when we hurt you.”

They took turns again.

Momo climbed back on, hips pistoning in quick, furious thrusts. She rode you to the very edge—and then lifted off right before you could cum. Her tail wrapped tight around your shaft again, holding you in that painful, impossible place between ecstasy and agony.

Sana straddled your hips, her pussy so hot it burned. She rode you slow, her nails digging into your bloodied chest, every bounce making you twitch uncontrollably—until she stopped again, laughing when you sobbed.

“You want to cum?” she asked softly. “Then beg.”

But you couldn’t speak.

You couldn’t think.

Only Mina remained.

She stood at the edge of the altar, watching the carnage she orchestrated. Her body was flawless—lit by magic, glowing like a goddess of sin. She approached slowly, dragging her nails across your marked chest, letting your own blood paint her fingers.

“Your body’s almost broken,” she whispered. “But not yet. I want to see what happens when we ruin your soul.”

She sank down onto your cock—perfect, deliberate, inch by inch until her thighs met yours. And this time—she didn’t ride you.

She fucked you.

Hard.

Vicious.

Relentless.

Her tail wrapped around your throat. Momo and Sana’s tails returned to your shaft, pumping in rhythm with her thrusts, squeezing, teasing, stretching you beyond reason.

And you cried out—not just from pain. From desperation. From need.

You were right there.

So close.

But Mina leaned down, lips brushing your bloodied mouth.

“You’ll cum,” she whispered. “When we say you can.”

And then she stopped.

You weren’t sure how long it had been. The circle pulsed like a second heartbeat beneath you, raw magic binding your limbs, seeping into your skin, your bones. You were slick with sweat, streaked with blood, and your cock was still hard—red, twitching, aching like it might burst.

You had begged.

Once.

And they smiled when you did.

Now, Mina knelt over you again, her cunt glistening with your torment, her thighs trembling. She was soaked, ravenous, her eyes glowing bright as embers. Momo and Sana flanked you, each of their tails still wrapped around your cock, alternating soft strokes and brutal squeezes—every touch designed to edge, not release.

But something shifted.

You could feel it.

They were done teasing.

“You’ve lasted longer than most,” Mina whispered, cupping your face with a blood-slick hand. “But even you have limits.”

Her tail tightened around your throat, cutting off your words as she lined herself up with your cock and slammed down.

You choked—half on your breath, half on the heat of her. Her walls milked you instantly, dragging your swollen length into a velvet vice of pulsing, wet heat.

Momo’s mouth found your nipple, teeth grazing. Sana’s tongue traced one of your bleeding wounds, moaning like she was tasting something divine.

“You’re gonna cum for us now,” Sana whispered, straddling your face. “And we’re gonna drink every drop.”

You tried to resist.

But your body betrayed you again.

Your hips bucked.

Mina moaned, hard and loud, riding you with brutal purpose now—no rhythm, no grace, just pure, relentless use. Her hands pinned your shoulders, and the three of them moved in unholy harmony.

Momo’s tail squeezed the base of your cock, then pumped, twisting.

Sana’s thighs clenched around your face, dripping onto your mouth, her moans cracked and high as she grinded on your tongue.

Your vision blurred. Your body tensed.

And then—

“Now,” Mina snarled.

Your orgasm tore through you like a storm.

You screamed.

Loud. Raw. Unfiltered. It wasn’t just pleasure—it was exorcism. The first pulse of cum hit Mina deep, and she shivered, eyes rolling back.

The second didn’t go to her.

She pulled off just in time.

Momo was already there, mouth wide open, catching the next shot of your release with a lust-dazed giggle.

“Fuck yes—he tastes divine—”

Sana was next, lowering her mouth over your tip just in time to catch the third pulse. She moaned around you, eyes fluttering shut, tongue swirling.

“More,” she gasped. “More. Give us everything.”

You couldn’t stop.

Even if you wanted to.

Your cock kept twitching, kept shooting, your body convulsing under their worship.

Mina leaned down, catching the last strings of your cum with her tongue, licking up your length like it was sacred.

Then she smiled.

“You came,” she whispered. “Good boy.”

But they didn’t stop.

“Oh no,” Momo whispered, already climbing over your lap again. “We’re not done. Not until you're empty.”

You whimpered—yes, whimpered—as your over-sensitive cock was guided back inside Momo’s dripping, needy pussy.

And she rode you hard.

No warning. No buildup.

She bounced with wild, frenzied rhythm, her nails digging into your thighs as she fucked you past your own climax, using your twitching, spent cock like it was still hard.

But it was.

Somehow, impossibly, the circle kept you hard.

Sana sat on your face again, grinding with abandon, crying out as she came—once, then again—each orgasm drawing more energy from you.

Your arms wouldn’t move.

Your hips trembled uncontrollably.

And Mina?

She watched.

One hand between her thighs, the other drawing runes across your chest in your own blood.

“You’re ours now,” she said softly. “Drained. Broken. Marked.”

Momo screamed as she came again, soaking your lap, body twitching as she collapsed forward.

Sana followed next, twitching violently, her juices dripping down your chin.

And still… they wanted more.

Mina climbed on, once more.

Slow this time.

Cruel.

She fucked you with purpose—to leave her mark deep inside, to own your last ounce of energy.

You sobbed against her chest, unable to move, unable to stop the final orgasm being ripped from your soul.

You came again—dry this time, painful, shaking—and Mina came with you, her cry a chorus of power and corruption.

When she slid off you, your body collapsed.

Eyes glazed.

Chest heaving.

Cock soft, twitching, stained with cum and blood.

“Good boy,” Mina murmured, brushing your soaked hair back. “You gave us everything.”

“And we’ll take more,” Momo added, licking her fingers.

Sana kissed your cheek, soft and sweet, as you slipped into unconsciousness.

They were still wrapped around you.

Their marks bled softly.

And the circle glowed—sated.

For now.

You woke to darkness—thick and wet, like the inside of a mouth. The rune-circle had dimmed to a low, pulsating glow beneath your body, casting everything in a red sheen like dried blood under moonlight. You were lying on something soft now—pillows, fur, silk. A nest.

And they were still with you.

Mina’s body was curled at your side, her hand resting on your chest, fingers idly stroking one of the wounds she’d carved into you. Momo lay draped over your legs, her lips parted in sleep, still wet with your release. Sana’s arms were tight around your head, your face buried against her breasts, her breath soft against your ear.

You ached. Everywhere.

Your cock twitched—spent, raw, but already hardening again under their presence.

You swallowed, throat dry.

“…The Demon King,” you rasped.

Mina stirred.

“Hm?” she murmured, not opening her eyes.

“Our deal,” you said, more firmly this time. “You were going to take me to him.”

Momo giggled, not even bothering to sit up. “Aww, he remembers.”

“You made a pact,” you growled, trying to sit up—but your limbs felt heavy, wrapped in silk and tail. Even your voice lacked conviction. You could feel it—them—still inside you somehow. Still draining you slowly, inch by inch.

Sana kissed your temple, voice thick with honey and sleep. “Mmm. We said we’d take you after we had our fun.”

“This is our fun,” Momo added, licking your thigh.

You turned to Mina, anger barely keeping you coherent. “You lied.”

Finally, she opened her eyes. No guilt. Just that slow, dangerous smile you were learning to hate.

“We never lie, hunter,” she said sweetly. “We just leave things… unsaid.”

Her hand slipped lower, dragging a lazy finger down your stomach, to your cock—which, traitor that it was, was already standing again under their heat and scent.

“You really think the Demon King cares about you?” Mina whispered. “You think he’d let you touch him? You think he doesn’t already have a thousand slaves to bleed dry?”

Momo’s mouth wrapped softly around your tip, just a flicker of tongue. Enough to make you moan.

“You need us,” Sana whispered. “You belong to us.”

“No—” you groaned, trying to move, to pull away—but your arms were pinned by soft thighs, tangled tails, velvet kisses.

“You came so hard for us,” Momo giggled between licks. “Came so much. And you’ll keep doing it. Again. And again. And again.”

Mina leaned down until her lips brushed yours.

“Let us show you what forever feels like.”

You tried to resist.

But then—

Their tails bound you again. Ankles. Wrists. Throat.

Momo stroked you to full hardness with slow, devastating precision.

Sana kissed her way down your chest, licking over old wounds and new ones as her nails dug in again—marking you fresh.

And Mina—oh, Mina—straddled your chest and looked down at you like a goddess over a willing sacrifice.

“Don’t worry, hunter,” she whispered, lowering herself just over your face, her wet folds hovering, dripping. “We are the rulers you belong to now.”

Momo’s relentless rhythm never faltered, her breath hitching with each movement as she teased and taunted, spitting on your cock, slick and warm. Meanwhile, Sana’s hands left fresh marks on your skin, each scratch burning as she claimed you in her own way. And Mina, with a soft laugh, slid herself against your mouth, the heat of her pussy consuming you as you struggled beneath their control.

It hit you all at once: you were never going to escape. The mission, whatever semblance of it there was, was long forgotten. You had given up the fight, letting yourself sink deeper into their world. Three succubi, each with their own brand of temptation, had you. And you, helpless, let yourself fall into their grasp. They were far from done with you, each of them using you, bending you to their will. You didn’t know when—if ever—they would stop, and that uncertainty, that endless desire, kept you trapped in their cycle.

[canine-witch]

What Is Next For You With Love?

This has been a season of changes, especially with romantic energies. Some may have ended or begun a relationship. Some may be pondering what the next step is.The intention of this reading is to provide clarity with what you want, and where you may end up in romance. I believe this reading will find people when they're ready. It is timeless and gender neutral, no need to rush!

Drink some water, pick a pile, and feel free to discard what does not resonate with you.

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✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘

Group One ~ The Swans

There is new hope for romance on the horizon. You may be going through a breakup right now, or feeling the effects of a heartbreak that left you wounded. They seem to have truly hurt your feelings. You may be losing sleep or having strange dreams over your love life. But, you can't be scared of change or moving on. The Sun and The World has promised you that there is someone for you, who will fill your emotional needs. But, you need to put yourself out there. You can't be scared of the future or the past. I am seeing a snake halfway through shedding it's skin, rubbing it on a rock trying to get the itchy dead skin off. You need to change, shed your previous skin, and stand in the sun and in your confidence. Put yourself out there, and what you need will be attracted to you, blessed be!

Your angel numbers are 111, 444, and 555. Snakes, the moon, bears, and daggers may be significant to you now. I am seeing the initials A, C, M, K, Z.

Group Two~ The Strawberries

You will recieve justice for a past relationship. There is a heavy energy here of bitterness, envy, and rage that lead you towards a very cold outlook on romance and people. The person you were with has damaged your reputation and changed how people view you. It's been a long fight between you both, and a long divorce with many money troubles may be significant for some seekers. Love has wounded you, and now is the time to heal yourself before you start looking for a new relationship. There is an energy of blossoming and changing, I'm seeing blossoming water lilies. It's not that you will never find love again, but the Hanged Man was revealed to me, telling me that it's time to get through this period with grace, let go of past burdens, accept and forgive yourself, and what you need will come in due time. Blessed be, prayers for you!

Your angel numbers are 222 and 777. Water lillies, frogs, spiders, foxes, grapes, and strawberries may be significant to you now. I am seeing the initals B, D, F, P, T

Group Three ~ The Mirror

You are feeling very bored with romance, seeker. You are a person of high emotional intelligence and high self worth. You are either in a relationship which you are losing the spark in, or seeking a new relationship but can't seem to find the one. You enjoy cat and mouse games, and intellectual stimulation in your relationships. But, love is not always a game. You are giving into vices with the Devil card, and perhaps ignoring your own intuition. You may be playing games or taking advice such as not texting back or playing hard to get. I see a beautiful person wrapped in shining gold and white, expensive furs, but the gates are closed to them. You have probably hurt a partner or a potential one chasing fun, rather than building something. Open yourself, and whoever you are pursuing will acknowledge your efforts. To accept the goodin the future, you must learn how to be genuine now.

Your angel numbers are 333 and 999. The color red, swords, and eyes may be significant to you now. I am seeing the initials F, H, R, W.

Group Four ~ The Garden

You will have many suitors coming to you soon. You have an energy of aloofness, and you are very alluring. Your energy is bright and you are a comforting person, but right now you are more focused on introspection. Many of you probably thought of scrolling past this reading, you may already be in a relationship, or you're just not really looking at this time. But, you are catching eyes. Some people want what they can't have, or they are attracted to the energy you put out into the world. You may have had heartbreaks in the end, but you bounced back, and now people are seeing the fruits of your labor. It will be up to you if you will accept a suitor's proposal or not. Some will be surface level infatuations, some will see right into your heart. You have many cards to play, and the intuition to see if someone is good for you or not. Decide for yourself what the next move is, there is no shortage of paths to take.

Your angel numbers are 444, 555, 666, and 777. Peacocks, morning glories, deep colors, and hair may be significant to you now. I am seeing the initials M, S, U, and X.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘

Thank you so much for your time and trusting me with your energies. Praying for each of you!

If you do want more clarification, or you have another question, my free readings are open, using oracle and tarot cards! Limited time only! Click the link for instructions!

Blessings to you all, have a wonderful day!

[jeffgerstmann]

ten game ideas that I am writing down right now as I am thinking of them go

half-man, half-snake guy with sword must save kingdom, can put points into man side or snake side to determine skills and how people react to you and all that

baseball but weird (curved walls like rocket league or something)

factory game where you are making machines that make Subway-style sandwiches, must have various sensors to detect (and in some cases remove) condiments or toppings

Big Bear Loves To Smash City

Side-scrolling dog fight game, multiplayer--Soldat but in planes

Play as dog trained to detect illegal smells but you can let them go if you think they're cool

Devil May Cry but you play as a football player in full uniform so all your moves are you shoulder charging people up into the air or chop blocking them or hitting them with a steel football

Asteroids but for real

2D Platformer but you're a cool kid on a unicycle

Flintstones-licensed city builder