The knight had never enjoyed hearing pleas for mercy. It almost always meant war and slaughter, killing others over a nobleman's petty grievance or wounded pride. People begging for their lives, for the lives of their children and loved ones.
It reminded him of bodies piled high in the afternoon sun, a mess that only the crows had the stomach to clean.
Oh, but the way the princess cried for mercy beneath him... It was like church bells and bird song. She writhed under his body like an angel, the slap of skin on skin only growing louder and her pleas becoming more frantic. He wouldn't let up, he couldn't, no matter how pretty her tears were or how she begged. It had been ingrained in him since he first stepped onto a battlefield.
Lol enjoy some character writing I did with this very quick doodle
Writing under the cut so I don't clog the dash! Enjoy!
Small... small, curled up in a crib that had once been used for it when it was that size. Hollow had been brought to this room to introduce it to this small creature, a tiny being that was cloaked in a bright red that stood out amidst all the white of the palace. A simple introduction, one it had done thousands of times... but this one felt different.
It had been left with this creature, simply tasked with 'keeping an eye on her' for the time being. It was to learn to protect her as well, until she was able to protect herself. A tiny being... a result of the deals it's fa- king had been making to ensure its success. One of which had been... this.
A tiny... tiny creature. One that slept so soundly, curled up tight in a blanket that smelled familiar to it. A scent that came from the spider of Deepnest, who stared at it with something it couldn't identify when she came... her daughter, no doubt. And... it had a relation to her. One the king had told it.
It was gentle when it held out a hand to her, gently brushing some of the fur out of her face. A slight shuffle made it freeze, before she yawned and settled back asleep... and it felt something squeeze in its chest. A warmth... a soft warmth, a gentle hit against the cold exterior that had been chipping away and falling the more time it had been living in this palace.
Sister. That is what he had called her. She was its sister... it was meant to protect her. No matter what... It did not need an order for that.
It never did when the warmth in its chest was involved.
The Princess is under quite a bit of stress, which should be illigal. As soon as she understands the law she will make a new one so nothing can stress her again. After all, if something does stress her out, she will simply throw it into the forcefem dungeons. That'll show them.
For @jack-o-cel !! Thank you so much for helping out my boy in his time of need.
If you’d like your own custom drabble/fic, I have a limited time event going to help out my partner bc bills are a bitch! Check it out: HERE
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Summary: You're a scientist who has a team that bonds with the xenomorphs in order to study them. You get more than you bargained for when one of the Knights courts you successfully. But, you have to go on a trip, riiiiight before his rut hits. So when you come home to the hive? Make sure you're ready.Or! In which you're a scientist banging an alien and go on a week trip and come back to the dick down of a life time.
Fandom: Aliens / Aliens VS Predators
Relationship: Reader x Xenomorph
Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Reader is gender neutral and has a vulva, Breeding kink but with no pregnancy or actual breeding, Obviously you fuck an alien so if that ain’t your jam scoot on by, Inhuman dicks/Knotting
Words: 2.3k
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Xenomorphs. A curiosity of scientists and biologists everywhere. Curious hive-minded beings that seemed to adapt to any planet, any oxygen levels, any gravitational levels. Just seeming to adapt, adjust, and learn to survive just as quickly. Evolution at its finest.
For centuries, these things were regarded as creatures. Things that couldn’t feel nor understand like a human could- or the hunters that hunted them, the Yautja. The Yautja clearly had the same complexities that humans did, but as prior scientists watched Xenomorphs, the only answer they could come up with was something animalistic.
As you and your team found out, that wasn’t the case at all.
~Rest under the cut~
The hive your team had been tasked to watch had shown intense, complex emotions and understanding. They learned quickly and could communicate even with your team. But where the Yautja had their translators, the Xenomorphs had body language. They learned mimicry through your team, learning basic things from nodding to shakes of the head to more complex emotions like sneering.
This hive seemed to function more closely to a community. They had no Queen, at least not in the sense of one immobile being creating eggs. There was a Queen, and she was the largest of them all, but she could move around and seemed unable to copulate. She was the first your team had met, one of your fellow scientists having been the one to brave her, fully knowing they might have been slashed to pieces.
You blamed their horny mind, hopeful to die by the claws of a huge woman.
But it seemed the Queen had understood your team’s stance in terms of study and bonding. That you did not wish to kill, maim, or otherwise hurt them. But just...study. Study how they came to this planet and how they were thriving- let alone evolving at the rate they were.
On either side of her had been Knights, your team nicknamed them. She had two Knights, not as big as her by a long shot, but definitely bigger than the drones- or Pawns that walked about. They had huge shielded heads like she did, spiking up into a crown-like shape on the tops of their head. Spears, you’d later find in your studies. They used the spikes much like their tails; Like spears.
One of the Knights takes a shining to you during your studies.
Your team lives in a lab just outside the hive, interconnected by the Xenomorphs who happily helped build the thick black walls to connect. They all saw you as a part of the hive, making it easy to walk in and out. As long as you all respected the same culture and the Queen, it seemed cohabiting was the answer.
It helped that the Xenomorphs all seemed interested in learning from humankind in turn. Potato chips, as it turned out, seemed to be a favorite to thief for them.
Something eerie about hearing the crunching of said chips in the dark when you were in the hive.
In turn, you learn to bow to the Queen or kneel to her when she is within your sight. You learn that the Knights are to be respected the very same after you had a tail aimed at your throat. Hysterically, that becomes the one who takes a shining to you. You call him Prince, since his attitude is that akin to the Queen. A name he responds to nowadays.
You learn that the “Face Huggers” do not exist in this hive, but that the Xenomorphs have developed heat and rut cycles. The Queen does not breed, your team guesses due to not wanting other royalty in the way. But her Pawns, Knights, and others do.
Except they can’t seem to...with each other.
Evolution in their hive comes quickly, but it seems that is not fast enough for a new solution. Your team works alongside them, trying to figure out the answer. And then your team finds it.
To put it simply. The eggs cannot survive in cold temperatures. The Xenomorphs who can hold the eggs given to them are too cold internally for the eggs to survive. So, they start nesting them instead, trying to use gored animals as warm hosts. Your team helps once you learn, starting to incubate them and caring for them in this huge ‘nursery’.
You are tasked with incubation duty. Something Prince becomes interested in, constantly sitting watch with you as you meticulously and gently place every egg and inspect them for anything every single day.
You talk to him, and he begins to learn your mannerisms- how to reply to you, how to emulate external emotions, and how to mimic your body language. A shake of the head, nodding, huffing if he finds something amusing. Hell, he even tries smiling, showing off all fanged teeth and the inner mouth that snaps curiously forward.
You laughed nervously the first time he did it. Namely because his clawed hands had grabbed your head and tilted it up towards him, seemingly wanting you to watch if he was doing it right.
In turn, you learn his body language and replies. Certain hisses mean certain things, certain chuffs and huffs meaning just the same. And somewhere, somehow down along the line. Prince became attached to you. And you, to him.
Very attached.
Then before you knew it you were being courted. He brought you shiny things, soft furs carefully skinned and mimicking the blankets you had in the lab- of course without any fancy stitching. He brought you food even, or at least tried to a few times before he realized bloody corpses weren’t your speed. Then he started raiding your lab’s fridge, bringing you random foods from there that made you laugh.
In the end, it worked.
You ended up getting more than you bargained for, not that you ended up minding though. Not when you were bent in half in his den, gasping and crying out as one his clawed hands covered your eyes. The other holding onto your thigh to push you back so he had perfect access to fuck into you.
Becoming a bonded pair was just like if there had been two xenomorphs that were a bonded pair. He was protective of you and also insisted on either sleeping in your bed or trying to drag you back into his den. His den now had blankets and pillows carefully placed in it, furs he had skinned himself as well. As if he was trying to make it as comfortable for you as possible.
You think fondly of him on your current trip. Your family asks if you have a partner yet, if you’ve thought about kids, and you bite your cheek trying not to laugh. Instead, you tell them jokingly that your research required you to care for enough children to be satisfied eternally that you did not want any.
All they knew is that you were studying new life forms. Not how, not why, not where. A secret operation, of course. But, you had a family here as well.
Family you were inclined to visit for a week.
You know that Prince was concerned, not quite understanding what you meant by going away for seven moons. Your fellow team updated you, letting you know they were handling him just fine and that he just missed you. One of your fellow scientists had even sent a picture of Prince in your bed, buried in all your blankets and sheets and looking as pouty as an alien his stature could look.
But now, you’re on your way back to the lab. You made sure to shower and dress in new clothing, knowing that the hive wouldn’t take kindly to new scents. When the automatic shuttle stops outside your lab, you’re greeted by your team who welcome you back with hugs and updates.
There’s a low hiss that echoes within the walls of the lab and one of the other scientists pulls a face like she's trying not to laugh. You can’t help but smile back, tipping your head back to look up at the tall ceiling. Vaguely in the dark you can make out a shiny, dark shape.
“Hi, baby.” You croon out into the darkness. Instead of a hiss you hear this almost purring snarl echoed back at you. Before a huge body pounces, landing on the empty floor to the side of you.
He’s huge, a little bigger than last you saw him just this week. Seems his shed came and went quickly. The others have left the room now, letting you have a moment with Prince as you reach up, something he quickly understands as he leans down to your height.
You press a kiss to the smooth surface of his maw, avoiding the silver sharp teeth. Prince’s hands come down, gripping your waist and trying to draw you close to him. You know it to be a trick, but you allow it anyway. Already interlocking your arms behind the solid shield of his head.
In an instant he’s grabbing you tight. Taking off towards the hive chambers with your legs interlocking around the notches of his bony waist in turn. Not letting go until you enter his den, dropping you off in the center of it. A low indentation of rock filled with soft objects that makes you laugh as you fall into it.
When you prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him in the dark, there’s only one light illuminating the den. A lantern you had stuck in here ages ago, dimmed by time. Prince is looming over you, long arms caging you, his imposing head nudging at your chest and chuffing against you in a scenting fashion. A similar expression to how you as humans desired to kiss.
“Hey, I took a shower,” You start to argue, only to gasp out when a claw hitches under your shirt and rips it off. It soon follows your breathy giggles, squirming as cold breath fans across your chest and going lower and lower. “I-Is it your season already?”
You hear a rumbling hiss from his chest, vaguely seeing the shine of his head in the way he nods. It’s almost frantic how his claws hitch into your pants. Tugging and tugging until you lift your hips to help him faster.
You spread your legs, hooking your own hands under your thighs and spreading yourself apart like a show. You feel cold drool hitting your cunt, making your hips jump backwards at the sensation before his cold maw is rubbing at you. The best he could do to give you sensation without splitting you apart with teeth or hands.
You were in for a ride.
--
Prince’s season meant staying in his den until he was satisfied. It also meant he was trying to fuck you like he was trying to breed you. Something you’re acutely aware as he now fucks you on all fours, his tail wrapped tight around your thigh to pull it apart and his arms keeping you up as your body trembles and shakes.
Not that you help him much by begging him to breed you and fuck you raw. Until your voice gave out and you wind up just gasping and moaning helplessly.
Each ribbed texture of his cock popping into you makes you whimper out, feeling how his knot presses at your hole but can’t get inside yet. Always trying to grind his hips against you and snarling whenever you whine that it won’t fit. Squirming against him just so he’d sink his claws into you a little and lean down to threaten his sharp teeth over your shoulder.
You sob out as you’re suddenly and abruptly pushed off his cock, his tail yanking you and sliding you into position on your back. You squirm until his long fingers wrap around your throat, not choking, just holding you. His other hand presses at your other thigh, forcing your legs apart as he hisses when he pushes himself back into you nice and slow.
Your eyes roll back, unfocused as your hips tilt upwards into his. The hand pressing at your thigh moves, fingertips gingerly brushing across your engorged clit. Carefully using only the rough, ribbed pad of his thumb to slide back and forth like how you showed him how you liked.
“Oh God-” You cry, reaching down to grab onto his forearm with desperation. You squeeze tight around his cock, knowing Prince appreciates it judging by the harsh thrust into you. Pressing until his knot presses at the rim of your hole before his hips pull back to fuck into you again. Always meeting at that same point. Never quite pressing inside you, but clearly wanting to.
He wouldn’t have eggs this season, and that you are thankful for. You wouldn’t have to worry about reminding him to pull out or knowing he’d feel as though he’d wasted a batch. Besides, his cum wasn’t compatible with your body to create any sort of hybrid- your team had done extensive research for that.
What? Had to be thorough.
Your eyes roll back as another wave of an orgasm reaches you. You arch your back off the nest, feeling his hand squeeze lightly around your throat with tiny pin pricks of his claws. It aids you, cumming with a loud cry from your own lips that is met by his own tense hiss and frantic humping of his hips.
You sob when Prince stops moving his hips, pulling out abruptly once again just to quickly start to bend you into a new position for him to sink into you. Rushing to roll you onto your side, pulling your leg up and over his shoulder. He presses forward into you, bending you in half and trapping you. His huge head leaning over you, drooling into your neck as you toss your head to the side in overstimulation and let your eyes roll back.
You’d be his doll until he was tired out. Something that could be hours from now. It would take him much longer to cum, and it’d only happen until he could fit his knot into you.
Something you know he’d take his sweet, sweet time on. Just to feel your warmth and heat around him.
I keep dreaming of someone tying me up in a way that I can't move, spread open for them to be able to touch me however they would like, but only ever do it for my own pleasure, with no physical gain on their side. All and any toys we own are fair game, but I imagine they'd start with these lovely matching toys and maybe a vibrating egg just to make sure I'm properly filled. They'd run their hands over my bare skin, oversensitive from all the thoughts running through my head, maybe even because of aphrodisiacs I took before starting our little play. Their mouth, their fingers, all allowed to taste, touch, bite, suck on me, leaving trails of burning love marks all over my body as I just get more and more wet, more and more desperate to be properly touched. That's when they start using the vibe and maybe turn on the vibrating egg as well, and I'm already so sensitive that I edge in mere seconds, but they don't let me cum. It's part of the deal - I love the edges way more than I love the orgasms, and it's my treat, my gift to be tied up and touched like this, so I'll get edged countless times until my brain is filled with nothing but pleasure and desire and I feel like the moment has lasted forever and it can never end. Maybe I'll actually want to cum, maybe not, but that's not the goal, is it? The goal is pushing my body to become so sensitive that even the touch of a wet feather could be enough to send shivers down my spine. Maybe, just maybe, after all that worshipping of my bound body, the right finish isn't to cum, but to have a little break as I am getting unbound, stretch, then be put in an unchastity belt before going to sleep, my partner holding me close and safe and brushing their fingers over my n*pples as I slowly drift to sleep, the hornyness in my body sweetening my dreams
For a friend who drew the CUTEST piece of work for Bloodhound proposing to Elliott via the old dagger tradition. You can see his work either at: Pinguinmitbrille.tumblr.com or Spitefulpumpkin.tumblr.com
Bloodhound proposes to Elliott via a dagger, Elliott spends most of this absolutely Smitten with thoughts about them.
The castle gates welcomed the princess back from the ball like the open maw of a beast. She grimaced at the idea of returning and being shackled once more.
The ball had brought her such freedom. She had been able to say what she wanted, speak with who she desired, and turn away those who would do her ill. She laughed, danced, made friends, and she even dared to seek affection again. The taste of such freedom still lingered on her tongue, but it turned bitter as they passed into the main courtyard.
The princess was back. Finally home to be put on display for visiting nobles, to bite her tongue until it bled, to act the puppet for her father's machinations. Nothing more than his own little pawn to marry off as he saw fit while he culled any sense of self she managed to create in this dungeon.
Her nails dug into her palms and she stiffened. This hadn't been in her plan, for her father to send her to the ball alone. He had intended to join her initially, but the death of her mother forced him to remain home with his grief and growing paranoia. Of course, he was only concerned for his own life and had not given any thought to the idea that his daughter could've been attacked or killed at the festivities.
The princess scoffed at the thought. Hadn't he always been like this? Prioritizing himself and his safety while using his family and allies as tools?
Instead of worrying for his daughter, he sent her away to a strange new castle with the hopes that she'd meet another high-blooded noble and return betrothed.
How disappointed he would be to find out that all she returned with was a newfound sense of who she was and a burning desire to free herself.
The maids opened the door and assisted her in leaving the carriage. She greeted them warmly, despite the cold rage in her chest. The princess had worked for years to earn the maids' to favor her over her father. She'd done the same with the other castle staff and even a portion of knights as well.
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, she had turned alliances away from her father within their own home.
Today the alliances would finally be tested.
The princess walked through the front doors of the castle and, instead of going directly to the throne room, she meandered. She wandered to the library, the studies, places frequently used by the servants of the house. She greeted them all and shared flashy stories of jousting knights and stag hunts.
The last room she visited was the kitchen. The chefs greeted her excitedly and told her about new recipes they were working on. The princess shared the foods she had tasted at the ball with them. Their eyes lit up at the descriptions of such decadent meals and she could see their brains already working to craft their own versions. She giggled and told them she'd make sure she found sources for the more rare ingredients.
Everyone looked away when she took a butchers knife from where it hung on the wall.
The halls on the way to the throne room were unusually empty. No guards making idle chatter, no maids puttering about rooms with fresh linens. The princess listened to how her footsteps echoed off the stone and tried to steady her breathing. She could almost hear the squelch of blood in the carpet as she took each step forward. All those who were slain on the way to get where she was now...
Was it worth it?
Did any of them deserve such a fate so that she might have her freedom?
But to back down now... that would truly be a waste, wouldn't it?
She marched on mindlessly and found her way to the doors to the throne room. The knife was tucked away into her skirts before she opened the large doors.
"Father," she smiled and curtsied once she approached the throne.
The king looked weary. Wide, sunken eyes and hands that gripped the arm rests of the throne he sat upon.
"Ah, my dear daughter." he smiled in return, but it did not reach his eyes. "Tell me, who are you betrothed to now that you've returned?"
Her heart leapt into her throat as she stood up from the cursty. The time was now. She needed to free herself.
She steeled her expression and walked closer to the throne, "I found no one father. To be honest, I made no effort to find anyone that might want to be wed."
The king huffed and started on a tirade at her.
"...useless daughter..."
"...should've been born a boy..."
"...a disgrace to your mother..."
"Whore"
She did her best to ignore every cruel word and continued her march forward, pulling the knife from where she had hidden it.
The king's neck had more resistance than she expected, but the spray of blood told her she had hit the correct spot. It splashed on her hand and wrist while her father gurgled in response, his tirade finally being brought to an end. He tried to push her hands away, but a pained noise escaped him instead and he flailed uselessly in his seat.
Margaret gripped the now-slick handle of the knife and wrenched it back, causing another wave of gore to cascade out of the fresh wound. Her father's palms desperately tried to cover the opening, but the tide poured out through his fingers and stained his robes.
A wail echoed through the empty hall as she dragged him off the throne by his hair. The metal points of the crown pierced the soft skin of her palm while she threw her father to the ground, the crown falling to the floor next to him. She stood over him while he slowly suffocated on his own blood.
It sprayed up at her now, covering the front of her dress and up her chest when she leaned over. Her other hand wrapped around the handle of the knife for a better grip, but she found the blood had started to dry. It was tacky and stuck to her skin, practically begging her to continue. To finally finish this and free herself.
The butcher's knife sank easily into his stomach and she yanked it diagonally down, splitting him open. An awful, half-drowned yowl burbled from his throat and he rolled himself in an attempt to escape, but only succeeded in spilling own guts across the throne room floor. Ropes of intestines looped across the carpet and pulsed on with their function, as though they were unaware of what was happening to the very body they served.
Blood squirted from her father's abdomen and pooled around him, splashing the crown that had fallen from his head.
Margaret stumbled forward and stood up on shaking legs. The sight of her father below her should sicken her, but instead... A fire lit in her veins. It spread quickly through her body and she gasped, a smile spreading across her face.
The knife fell from her hands when she raised them to stare at her palms. Her skin and the sleeves of her dress were all the same shade of crimson now. The sharp smell and bright hues sang to her of freedom.
She stepped over the soon-to-be corpse and plucked the crown delicately from the puddle of blood where it sat. Her gaze shifted back to where her father lay and she made sure he was watching with his beady, terrified eyes.
Slowly, the bloody crown was lifted and placed atop her head. A few beads of still-warm blood rolled lazily down her face. Margaret clasped her hands in front of her and gave her father a soft smile, the very one her mother had taught her to use when she would become a queen herself.
Another faint gurgle left him before he spasmed and ceased to be.
The new queen looked silently over the mess of her throne room. At the end of the hall, a gathering of knights and maids waited patiently for her first orders as the new ruler.
Queen Margaret took in the sight of them all before she smiled at them.
OOC POST: "Mad" Princess Margaret is ready for the ball!
Took me quite awhile to figure out how she'd look (and also figure out her name). Spent some time pulling up fantasy outfits and thinking of color schemes.
Anyway, she has a personality despite this very formal looking picture. Imagine this as the "very serious portrait that cost a ton of money to commission" that hangs in the castle.
She knows how to have a good time (do NOT let her lose her drink)
What the drawings say:
"Yes, I poisoned my own glass! It'll really liven things up, don't you think?"
*8 glasses of wine deep* "Oh, how I love a good bloodsport!"
