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jazzthatonewriterchick · 5 months

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Daddy’s Home (Dom!Gojo x Sub!Black!Fem!Reader 18+ One Shot)

“Daddy’s home, baby. Now take your fucking clothes off.”

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Black!Fem!Reader

Synopsis: It’s been 3 years. You believe your fiancé is dead. You’ve been attempting to move forward in your life without him there beside you. You try to grieve properly in order to move on….until he comes home. And he’s more than ready to make up lost time.

Warnings: MANGA SPOILERS; Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Grief; Mentions of Depression, Death & Suicide; Alcohol/Drug Use; Feral!Gojo; Rough Sex; Ripping Clothes; Dirty Talk; Cunnilingus; Forced Deepthroating; Face-Fucking; Multiple Positions; Gojo Giving You Deep Dick; Breeding Kink; Unprotected PIV Sex; Creampie; Cum Eating; Ownership; Gojo Makes You a Mommy; Aftercare; Degradation; Petnames: Baby; Little Girl; Mama; Sweetheart

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

*IMPORTANT NOTE: In the manga, Gojo is only sealed for 19 days, but in the time of the rest of the manga being written and illustrated, it was 3 years. So the timeline of his being sealed and freed will be 3 years.

Writer’s Note: I’m coping. AND celebrating my man's birthday!! The happiest birthday (and week and month) to my favorite boi! 💙💙💙 -Jazz

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You’ve never felt such pain before.

It isn't pain that can simply be fixed with a band-aid or a kiss, like a scrape or a cut. It is a deep, cavernous, emotional pain that you have never experienced before...not before losing your fiance. The man you adored and cherished. Your best friend. Your soulmate. Your sunshine peeking through the dark, gray clouds.

But since losing him, all your days are washed with gray. You can't stand any sunny days now, knowing that he loved them and would want to do something–anything–to seize them. "C'mon, baby, let's go get some ice cream!" he'd cheerfully shout. Or "let's go biking" or "wanna take a walk in the park with me?"

Now, all you do is lay in bed and watch the days go by, the pain you feel too much. You've never experienced something so profound and intense. It causes you to cry every single morning into the night until the pink of dawn comes again.

It's been like this for three years now since you lost him forever. It still feels weird to say that: forever. You thought you'd have forever with him, but it was ripped away from you all that time ago during the Shibuya incident. It was a bloody war, from what you've heard; a massacre. So many innocent people perished.

The lives that were spared were among the other Sorcerers and his students, including Nobara who managed to survive Mahito's attack . You visited her all that time she spent in the hospital after the attack as the doctors worked to save her eye. In the end, she lost it, but gained a false one just last year that looks exactly like her real one.

Nanami also survived. It was a close call, apparently. Yuji had found him and attacked Mahito before Nanami could face his violent death. Half of his face and body are completely scalped, but he doesn't try to cover them. They are his battle scars; a reminder of what he is fighting for. He still resides in Japan though you've all been telling him to retire and go to Malaysia. "Not until he's back," he'd fiercely say. "I'm not resting until he's out of that damn box."

He checks on you as do Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara, to ensure you're okay. Shoko spent the night with you a few times until you firmly told her to stop. "I'm not gonna slit my wrists or anything," you scoffed. Shoko pursed her lips at you as she smoked her cigarette on your balcony. "No, but you might drink yourself to death first," she mumbled.

And yes, you have been drinking. You've also been smoking. Weed and alcohol are all that cure the pain, at least for a little while. You don't have to see his dazzling smile or snow-white hair behind your eyelids when you fall asleep high as a kite. It's unhealthy and you know that, but what else can you do?

You have nothing to live for anymore. Your fiance is gone. You try to tell the others this, who have worked tirelessly all this time to find a way to bail him out. 'It's been three years!' you think. 'If they haven't found a way yet, they never will. He is never getting out of that box or the Prison Realm.' And that is the sad, horrible truth.

You curl yourself into a ball now, wrapped in one of his crisp button-up shirts, naked underneath. It is twelve in the afternoon. You haven't eaten or gotten dressed, only showered and brushed your teeth (after Shoko sent you a text to do so). Tears stain your eyes which still sting from your sob session the night before. "Satoru," you whimper into the pillows. "Come back to me, please."

You know this isn't possible, but you wish to God or whoever makes miracles happen that it was. How can you live in a world, in a realm, where your love isn't here? You were going to get married, in spring of 2024. He had promised you after a wonderful night of dinner, champagne, and dancing on a private yacht he ordered just for you two.

When he got down on those long legs, one knee propped up, and presented you with that box, you could feel yourself melt. "After all of this is over," he promised, "after I make this world safer for you, let's do it, baby. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you." He gave you that big, gigawatt, hopeful smile as you felt tears pour down your cheeks, ruining your makeup. "You up for seein' this face forever?" he joked.

That night, you answered him. Over and over again, making love until morning. Until you were both spent and ached so good from twisting your bodies in a hundred different positions. Until your thighs were soaked with his cum and all you could see, hear, and smell was him.

You were more than prepared to spend the rest of your life like that with him...and now, that's all gone. A fresh wave of grief overcomes you and you grip the pillow, stuffing your face into it. Once again, you say the same words you've been saying for three years like a prayer: "Satoru, come back to me. Please."

BANG!

The sound is so loud and abrupt that it scares you. You sit up immediately, your heart lurching into your throat. You look around the room only to find it empty, but then hear the familiar sound of the front door closing from downstairs. Someone is here. But who?

"H-Hello?" you call. "Shoko, is that you?"

No answer. It is completely silent all except for the birds chirping outside your window which only adds to the ominous feeling of the situation at hand. You never gave Shoko a spare key to your home and you're the only one who can get in and out. So who the fuck is in your house?

You then hear the familiar sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, one by one, as if the stranger is taking his sweet time doing so. You instantly reach for your phone to dial 911 and retreat to the bathroom across the room, but stop when a shadow crosses the bedroom wall, and then a figure appears in the threshold of the bedroom you used to share with your fiance.

You stare at the figure hard as if it's difficult for you to decipher it, but it's impossible not to know who it is. You can tell from how tall he is as he stands there, towering over you in the doorway. You can tell from his lean body sinewy with muscles under his black clothes. You can tell from his pale skin, snow-white hair you used to love to run your fingers through, and iced, blue eyes that stare right through you.

That same lovely, adorable, sexy, dazzling grin crosses his pillowy-soft, pink lips as he stares at you from across the room. “Honey, I’m home," Gojo chirps as if he just walked in from a hard day at work.

You stare him down, afraid to move or speak in fear of ruining this or exposing it for what it is: a trick. A mirage. A hallucination caused by too much alcohol or weed (unlikely, but still). Is this a dream? Are you dead? Did you go ahead and drink yourself to death like Shoko foresaw?

He walks toward you, slowly as if to not frighten you further. You stay on the bed, afraid to move. You're trembling. He finally stops just at arm's length from you, that same smile and warm gaze still on his face. “T-Tarou?” you whisper, finding your voice.

“In the flesh," he replies in that easy, sexy drawl that you've always loved. So careless. So laidback. His expression grows concerned, his brows drawn together. “How ya doin’, baby?” he asks. Your heart flips at the sound of that pet name. You haven't heard it in so, so long.

You scamper towards him, wanting to get closer to him, but then stop, afraid to. He doesn't react to either, still standing there and waiting for you to process this. “No,” you whisper. “This isn’t real. I’m just high as fuck right now.” You put your hands in your hair, gripping the dark coils/braids/locs/curls/twists harshly.

You know that this isn't possible. You haven't touched any weed since yesterday morning, wanting to give yourself a break. Gojo whistles as he nods at the bong sitting on your bedside table. “Well, judging from that, probably so. You got any left? I could use it after the 3 years I’ve had.”

You don't answer. You barely even breathe, afraid to do so in fear of putting a tear in the fabric of this moment and ripping it apart. You still can't tell if this is really happening. Is it a trick of your cursed grief making you see shit? Could it be that a Curse is here and has somehow taken over Gojo's body, and now, they're here to kill you? You would rather take that than this uncertainty.

Gojo suddenly raises his hand toward you as if to touch you, but doesn't. “Touch me," he encourages. Though hesitant, you lift a tentative hand and stroke your fingers over his veiny arm. All you feel is solid, soft, warm skin. Gojo's smile gets bigger. “See? I’m real. It’s really me, baby.”

And suddenly, the fog over your mind has been cleared and you can see clearly. All is for certain, including that the man standing here is your man. Your 'Tarou. “It’s really you,” you whimper. “Oh, my God….oh, my God!” You can't stop the tears or the blubbering as relief and utter joy wash over you.

Gojo opens your arms for you and he barely budges as you shoot into them, not even making him stagger. You bury your head in his chest, breathing in his scent and moving your hands over his back muscles. “I’ve missed you,” you sob. “I’ve missed you so, so much, Satoru! It’s been awful!”

He holds you tight to him, solid and absolutely real. “Shhh, I’m sorry, Y/N,” he coos. “I would’ve come back sooner, but I had to take care of some things.”

You pull away to look up at him through your blurred vision. He doesn't appear hurt or bruised. In fact, he looks the exact same he did before he was sealed in that box. “What do you–“

“And I’ll tell you everything after I get some pussy.”

You pause, processing his abrupt words. “What?” you scoff. “But what about all that's happened? How'd you even escape the Prison Realm? Have you eaten or drank? What about–"

Gojo, impatient, presses a long finger to your lips. “Forget about all of that right now, Y/N. Worry about the fact that you haven’t seen me in three years and you’re dying for me to put you in the mattress again.”

Then that familiar, dark, lustful look crosses his eyes like an eclipse, taking over him. “I think you’re understanding me clearly," he says, his voice dipping an octave lower than usual. “Daddy’s home, baby. Now take your fuckin’ clothes off.”

You stare at him hard, wondering if he is serious. You haven’t seen him in three years. You have so many more questions to ask him. Like what did he do while sealed? Did he see Yuji, Megumi and Nobara before he came? Were they the ones that got him out? Is he okay?

But from the way he is staring you down like he wants to take a piece of you, you can tell that all of those questions will have to just wait to be answered. Plus, the last one is already answered for you: no, he isn’t okay. He is fucking feening for you. He needs you. You can tell from the way his hands grip you closer and from the feeling of his semi hard-on pressing into your thigh from inside his pants.

You can’t imagine what three years without sex was like and you don’t want to. So you’re more than happy to give him whatever he is looking for right now. “O-Okay, Gojo,” you softly stutter. Your hands move to his top to unbutton it, first starting at the bottom. But your hands fumble and shake as if this is the first time you’re doing this for him.

“Takin’ too long,” Gojo growls, impatient. Tearing your hands away from his shirt, he immediately rips the $1,000 top off of you, revealing your laced bra and panties underneath. You squeak as he does so, alarmed. “Gojo, your shirt!” you gasp, especially when the buttons fly all over the place.

“Forget the fuckin’ shirt,” he says, his voice all but a rasp. "I’ll get a new one. It’s not fair how sexy you look in my clothes, sweetheart.” He presses his lips to your chest, breathing you in for a moment. “God, I’ve missed your smell,” he sighs. “I’ve missed how you feel. I’ve missed you so, so much.” He pulls away then, looking down at your hand. “And you’re still wearing the ring,” he points out.

You look down at your hand where the sterling silver engagement ring sits, its diamonds sparkling at you. “Of course,” you whisper. “I never took it off. I’m engaged to you.” You want to tell him that you always dreamed he’d come back, that you wanted him to see you with it when he did.

“So there’s been no one else?” he suddenly asks, his eyes sizing you up. “You haven’t been with any other man besides me?” Immediately, you shake your head. “No, Daddy,” you whisper, immediately falling back into the soft, obedient, submissive state that you always slide into with him as if it’s natural to you. And it is. He makes you feel so safe and loved and kept. It’s impossible not to do so all for him. “There’s been no one,” you say. “No one can ever make me feel the way you do.”

A crooked smirk crosses Gojo’s lips that has you quivering in between your thighs. “So one has played with this body but me?” he asks. “No one has played with that pussy but me?” Again, you shake your head, your breath becoming short and labored. His eyes seem to dark even more, becoming an ocean blue. “That’s what I wanna hear,” he whispers. Then his lips are finally, finally, on yours, his tongue dancing and swirling with yours, creating a wet, sloppy, feverish kiss that takes your breath away.

You moan wantonly into his mouth, wrapping your arms around him. Oh, how you’ve missed this. How you’ve only prayed to feel these lips again. At some point during the dizzying kissing session, Gojo pulls his clothes off, breaking apart from you to strip himself of his shirt, pants, and shoes, leaving himself in his designer briefs that look way tighter than usual.

Actually, now that you’re noticing it, his entire body looks buffer than usual. Gojo has always had muscles but was leaner three years ago. Now, his muscles are more defined, pushing up against his shirt when he has it on.

He smirks at your wandering eyes. “Something you like, mama?” he purrs. He takes your hand, running it over his hard abs and chiseled abs where his pink nipples are hard for you, ready to be sucked. “Something…different?”

“It’s just…you’re so…” You shudder in delight as he slides your hand down his stomach that you could bake cookies on. “Big,” you decide, running your free hand up his forearm. “You don’t have much to do in the Prison Realm except work out and masturbate,” he chuckles. “I wanted to be bigger and stronger for you when I was finally free. And I wanna let you know something, baby.” He leans in then, pressing his lips against your ear. “It’s all yours,” he whispers. “This body…this cock…everything. All of it is yours.”

You shudder again as his dirty words swirl in your mind. He pulls away, smirking at you. “Lemme show you what I mean.” Then, instantly, he is snapping off your bra and flinging it away before his lips and hands are latching to your nipples. He sucks and licks at your hard, brown nipples like a hungered man, his hands groping the sensitive globes and pinching your nipples with his long, piano fingers. “Look at these beautiful fuckin’ titties,” he says, more to himself than to you. “I’ve missed my girls so much.”

Your head falls back and your mouth opens, captured by the pleasure he is giving you. “S-Satoru,” you whimper. Every graze of his teeth and lick of his skillful tongue has your pussy gushing. You haven’t been this wet in three years! Actually, you haven’t even been horny in three years. No one has ever been able to arouse you the way Gojo can.

You find yourself rolling your hips against his knee as your hands grasp his broad shoulders for balance and leverage. Gojo hums as you grind your wet, panty-covered pussy against his knee, smirking up at you playfully. “Grindin’ that pussy on my leg, hm?” he tuts. “Even after three years, you’re still a little slut. I wouldn’t have it any other way though.”

He gives one of your titties one last suck before he shoves himself away from you. You stare up at him, confused, while he only gives you a stern look. “Get on the bed and open your legs. I need that pussy in my face.”

You are helpless to refuse him, especially when your pussy is begging and sobbing for the same thing. You quickly hurry onto the bed and sit back onto your elbows as you open your legs for him. Gojo is between them immediately, his hands ripping off your panties as if they are no more than strings. As soon as he gets a look at your puffy, wet pussy leaking for him, he groans and his cock visibly twitches in his pants. “Shit,” he hisses. “I’ve missed her too.”

And then he’s giving in like he would the cleanest, purest, bluest waters, his hands under your ass to give him a better angle and a better way to plunge his tongue deeper inside you. He laps and sucks at your pussy and sensitive clit, his tongue flicking and swirling around your hole like he needs it. Craves it.

You grab at his hair, pushing his head deeper into you as you wail and moan to the heavens above. “O-Oh, my God!” you cry out to the ceiling. “‘Tatoru, yes, more! Please give me more! Don’t stop!”

Your voice bounces off of the bedroom walls, unbound and unashamed. You haven’t had this kind of pleasure––so intense and explosive––in so long. His wet mouth and soft lips feel so good. His nose brushing against your clit as his tongue swirls inside your pussy is beyond. You feel incredible…too incredible. Gojo works his mouth fast, pulling you quickly towards an orgasm that gathers in your core and threatens to tumble down over you.

“Wait, Daddy!” you protest. “Slow down! ‘M gonna cum too fast!”

Gojo’s blue eyes peer up at you through long, white lashes as he continues to lap at your cunt. “Do it,” he demands. “‘Cause I’m finna make you cum as many times as I want to. I’ll make you cream your pretty brains out till dawn, baby. I’m making up for lost time.”

He ducks back down, going faster, and even adding his long index and middle fingers inside of the wet, tight depths of your pussy. Your walls clench around him instantly as he expertly finds your G-spot and begins gliding his fingers up against it, encouraging you to cum with every stroke of his fingers and tongue. “Do it,” he orders. “Cum for me. Cum around my fingers and my tongue, gorgeous. I’ve got you. I promise.”

And you know he does. He grips one of your hips with one hand as he finger fucks you with the other, humming “mm-hmm” and other encouraging words that are smothered by your pussy as he drags you closer to your orgasm. When it finally breaks, it crashes onto you like a wave, causing your back to arch off of the bed like you’re experiencing an exorcism. “Fuck!” you sob as you feel your body shake and shudder through your earth-shattering orgasm.

Moans of Gojo’s government and curses to the stars leave your lips as Gojo carries you through your mind-blowing, body-shaking, earth-quaking orgasm…and even after, when your body aches and your heart is pounding, he continues to eat your pussy.

He continues to lap and suck at your lips, cleaning up the cum that dribbles out your hole and down your asscrack. He licks there too, moaning breathlessly and wantonly as he does. Finally, when he is good and satisfied, he pulls away from you and sits back onto his hands, breathing heavily with his chin and lips shiny with your juices and his saliva.

A weak moan leaves your lips as your pussy twitches in delight and exhaustion at being stimulated. You feel so, so good. So free. You finally feel as if the sun has finally shown itself behind the gray clouds that have darkened your life for three years. You look at your man adoringly, wanting him to know how much you love him and how good he has made you feel. “Gojo,” you sigh. “That was amazing. I–“

“Open your mouth,” he demands. You button your lip, your words failing you immediately. You stare at him blankly, your post-orgasm brain not quite processing his words. Gojo sits up on his knees on the mattress, grabbing his cock in his pants. “You fuckin’ heard me,” he growls. “Open that slutty mouth, now. Don’t make me tell you again, little girl.” He pins you down with an intimidating look that is only intensified by his sapphire eyes.

Once again, you can’t deny him. While still recovering from your orgasm, you open your mouth wide for him, your plump lips covering your teeth and your tongue out. Just the way he likes it. Gojo walks towards you on his knees and stays beside you as he unbuttons his pants. In one swift motion, he takes down his pants and his briefs, causing his cock to pop out. The long, thick, veiny appendage, bubbling with pre-cum from its pink head, lightly slaps you in the face, causing you to gasp.

Gojo grabs your neck rather roughly, pulling you towards his cock without properly preparing you or waiting for you to prepare yourself. You stare down at his large dick, alarmed at how hard he is. The veins in his shaft throb as does his head that is quickly turning from a soft pink to an angry red. “Gojo, hold up–“

But your words are interrupted by his cock sliding between your lips. A hiss of relief leaves Gojo’s lips as he grips your neck, beginning to rut his hips deep into your mouth. “Sorry, mama,” he groans, “but I can’t be nice to that throat today. I’m just too pent-up. You understand, right?”

You can’t even answer. His cock is too thick; too big; it stretches your mouth out too wide, making your jaw hurt. But all you have to do is breathe through your nose and take it, which Gojo tells you to do so, as he begins to fuck your throat like it’s your pussy. Like it’s his own personal fleshlight.

“Fuckin’ fuck yes!” Gojo loudly grunts, his voice completely primal and animalistic as he roughly fucks your throat. Though he has fucked your throat before, this time, it feels much, much different. He grips your hair and makes your scalp sting with how much he pulls it. He plunges your throat so fast and so hard in your sloppy throat that saliva drips down your chin and down your tits. He turns your face into his fuck toy, doing with it as he pleases.

But though primal and animalistic, he is still completely involved with your pleasure. When you suddenly feel his fingers quickly rubbing your clit after licking his palm, your body lurches and your thighs twitch while you whine and protest feebly around his cock. “Theeeere we go,” he chuckles. “That’s what I want. Feel good with me, mama. This is where your weak, right? Right here?”

He applies more pressure, rubbing your rosebud in time with his thrusts into your throat, his balls swinging against your chin. All you can feel, taste, and smell is him. Your senses are completely overtaken by him. “T-Tawou!” You moan around his cock. “Two mwuch! ‘M sensitive!” Your words are a muffled, jumbled mess around his thick dick, causing more spit to fall from your mouth as you try to speak.

You go to close your legs, but Gojo’s hand yanking on your hair stops you short. “Uh-uh, sweetie,” he teasingly says. “Don't pull away. You owe me this.” He pushes your head farther down his cock, bottoming out in your mouth, causing him to moan so loud that it echoes in the bedroom. “You owe me this for stayin’ so damn sexy after so long. How is that even possible?” He questions you repeatedly as he fucks your throat harder and faster, grunting as he does so. "How's that possible, huh? Huh? Tell me, baby.”

You are turned into a total and complete hole the more he fucks your mouth and flicks your clit, bringing you to yet another orgasm that has your thighs shaking. Finally, he releases your hair and lets you pull away, causing his cock to pop out of your mouth. “Gonna cum!” you whine, spit and cum all over your mouth. “I’m cummin’ again, Satoru!”

Gojo stares at your pussy like a kid in a candy store as you cum once again, gushing all around his long fingers and all over the bedsheets. “Gooood girl!” he praises you. “Cum on these fingers, baby. Gimme what I want, but don't get too distracted, mmkay?” He takes his cock and slides himself back home into your mouth even as you moan and your body writhes on the bed.

“Yes, yes, yes,” he chants, transfixed by the way your body moves and your pussy clenches. “That’s what I want. This is what I need.”

He rubs at your clit until he can feel your exhausted body jerking from the aftershocks. He finally pulls away from you then, cock and all, though he is still hard and throbbing. “I need to fuck you now,” he growls, desperation in his eyes. “And I can’t stop until I cum inside you, baby…without a rubber. Is that okay with you?”

You blink at him, your sight slightly blurred from the two orgasms and your throat raw from it being fucked into oblivion. He must know that you will say yes. He must know that you’ll say yes to anyone he wants or needs. But yet, he still asks because safe sex has always been a priority with him in your relationship. He has always used condoms and has always made a point to not do anything involving PIV sex if he happened to run out.

But now, here he is, telling you that he needs to fuck you raw and cum inside you, possibly breeding you. And you find yourself burning for the same thing like a wildfire has lit inside you. You lean back against the pillows and open your cum-soaked thighs for him, showing him your glistening, puffy, sensitive pussy. “Yes,” you reply. “Fuck me, Daddy. Cum inside me. Breed me.”

Gojo stares at your pussy, spread open for him like it’s spun gold. Suddenly, the loving, silly, goofy man you’ve grown to love is gone, replaced with one who is starved, rough, demanding, and merciless. It thrills and frightens you.

“Oh, you’re gonna fuckin’ get it, girl,” he growls before he grabs you, tosses you onto your back, and gets on top of you. “I’m gonna fuck you till you’re spent,” he promises as he throws your legs over his shoulders and prepares to slide deep inside of you until his balls touch your ass.

When he says this, he means it. Baby, Gojo has you in every position known to man.

He starts first by fucking you in missionary, giving you deep, deep dick that nearly touches your soul and makes you see stars. One of his big, veiny hands wraps around your throat, squeezing gently on your windpipe, while the other pins your thigh open as his cock plunges in and out of your wet, sobbing cunt. He pounds you into the mattress, his big body pressing against yours and his hips nailing your pelvis.

Then he has you on top in 69, his hands groping and smacking your jiggly ass while he, once again, stuffs his face in your cunt. You suck his dick in time with his tongue laps, gagging and slobbering all over his cock much to his delight. It is sloppy and dirty and messy…and you love every minute of it.

You love how his pubic hairs tickle your chin the deeper you slide him down your throat. You love how your eyes sting with tears as he tickles the back of your throat. You love the way his tongue slides from your pussy hole to your asshole, lapping at each one as if they’re the best things he’s ever tasted.

He fucks on your back, hanging off the bed. He fucks you on your stomach, your ass tooted up while his feet are firmly planted on the bed, hammering his dick deep inside of you. He sucks you on your side, his hands cupping your jiggling breasts while his lips caress your neck and shoulder. And he makes you cum every. Single. Time.

By the time he has you on your knees with his cock buried deep in your pussy once again and your arms pulled behind your back, your body is aching for rest and your pussy is a mushy, gushy mess around his cock.

But still you persist, moaning and screaming at the top of your lungs the harder he fucks you. Your voice, along with his own, the creaking bedsprings, and the sound of skin slapping against skin, fills the air around you. “Yes, yes, Daddy, yes, fuck me!” you babble, your words a jumbled mess.

Gojo cackles from behind you, loving how slutty and broken you are on his cock. “You feelin’ good, baby?” he asks. “This dick makin’ you feel good? Don’t have to use those damn toys or those fingers anymore, no. You’ve got me now and I’ll take good, good care of this pussy.”

He slams his hips harder against your ass, making it bounce and jiggle. The harder he goes, the more intense your orgasm gets and you find yourself about to have your sixth orgasm of the day…or night. Is it nighttime now? You can't tell. You’ve been at this for hours, fucking and cumming all over the bed. You don't even know what day it is anymore.

All you can think about is Gojo’s dick and cumming on it. “Shit, I’m gonna cum again!” you sob.

Gojo’s hand circles around your throat, choking you. “Cum on this dick,” he demands. “Do it! Fuckin’ do it for me, baby!”

And you do. Like a puppet on a string being controlled by the white-haired, big-dicked man behind you, you writhe in the air and cum all over his cock. A weak, long moan leaves your lips as you come undone, all self-control leaving you. Gojo pulls out of you with a hiss, talking about how “fuckin’ tight” you are. When you’re released, your arms fall to your sides as you crumble onto the mattress, falling face-first into the pillow. Your body is hot and sweaty, your pussy is twitching, your ass is stinging from his assault on it. You are completely spent.

Gojo leans down to kiss your forehead, smiling at your exhaustion. “Aww, is my baby tired now?” he coos. You weakly moan in response, too tired to speak. “Too bad because I still need to cum inside you. You did ask me to breed you and I’ve gotta make this count.”

Before you can even protest, he is grabbing your weak body and forcing you onto your knees, hiking your ass up for him. He sinks into your overly sensitive, used pussy once more, drawing a moan out of both of you. You let him do as he pleases, too exhausted to fight or argue.

He takes hold of your hips and ruts into you like his life depends on it, nailing that spot again and again that makes you see the entire universe behind your eyelids. It feels so damn good. He fucks you at a breakneck pace, going faster with each second that passes. “O-Oh, s-shit!” you scream into the mattress. “F-Fuck, Daddy, f-f-u-uck!”

Gojo’s fucking is egged on by your moans, his pelvis slamming into your ass and taking your very breath away. “Take this cock,” he groans. “Take all of this dick, baby. It’s yours. All of it is fuckin’ yours. It always was and always will be.” He hikes up his leg and fucks you on one knee, causing him to grow louder and his moans to become more desperate and needy.

“God, I missed this!” he whines. “I’ve been fucking burning for you, baby. Needed you so, so much!” You picture him in the Prison Realm, his hand wrapped around his cock as he is surrounded by darkness and loneliness. As tears spring into your eyes, you lift yourself up onto weak arms to look back at him. “Then show me,” you whisper. “Show me how much you’ve missed me. Cum inside me, ‘Tarou, baby.”

You begin to toss your ass back into him, meeting his every thrust. Gojo takes what you give him and serves it right back, moving in tandem with you. “You want me to cum?” he asks. You nod, moaning and whimpering as you feel his cock begin to swell inside you. “You want me to feel that pussy up?” he grunts. “Want me to make you a mommy? Want me to give you a kid? My kid?”

He begins to pound your pussy into the mattress again, picking up speed. You can feel your last orgasm rising, ready to rip through you. “Say it to me, mama,” he demands. “Tell me you want my baby. Lemme hear it.”

“Yes!” you cry out. “Yes, Satoru, I want your child! I wanna mother your baby!” That must please Gojo because he begins rolling his hips harshly against your ass, rutting into you like he’s trying to fit a home run. His handsome face is red and glittering in sweat, his snow-white hair plastered to his wet forehead.

“Can’t wait to see you full with me,” he groans. “Can’t wait till this tummy is round with my baby and those tits are full of milk. You’re gonna look so, so pretty carryin’ my baby, sweetheart. You’re gonna be the best mommy ever.”

And he’ll be the best daddy ever. That is all you can think as you feel your own orgasm rising at the same time as him, like the sun and the moon rising in unison in the sky. Forever bonded. Forever together.

“Gonna cum,” Gojo warns. “Gonna cum deep inside you. You’d better cum with me too. Cum all over my cock, baby. Cum with me while I fill this little pussy up.”

You nod and wail into the pillow, gripping it for dear life as another blinding orgasm rips through your body. Gojo fucks into your wet, cum-soaked pussy until he feels his own nut coming and he desperately fucks you to chase his high. “Cumming!” he babbles. “‘M cummin’, I’m cummin’, I’m cummin’!”

And when he fills you up, it’s explosive. It’s deep. It’s intense. It fills every part of you, filling you with warmth and the feeling of being absolutely filled to the brim. You weakly moan as you feel his cum fill your tummy, no doubt reaching your womb. He stills for a moment, plugging his cum inside you, before slowly and sloppily rocking his hips into you to fuck his cum deep into your pussy.

When he is finally sure that you’re good and bred, he puts his hands on his narrow hips and whistles tiredly. “Shit,” he sighs. “I really needed that.” You moan in agreement. He then pulls out of you slowly, causing you to whimper quietly as your aching pussy is no longer filled.

He stares at it between your thighs, humming appetizingly. “Mmm, now that’s a sight: a pretty, fucked pussy drippin’ with my cum. Don’t mind if I do.”

Then his mouth is between your thighs again, lapping gently at his and your cum mingled together all over your pussy and inner thighs. You arch your back for him, moaning softly at his soft, careful tongue strokes.

When he finishes, you turn to him, finding his semi-hard cock dripping with your mingled fluids. “You still got some left here, Daddy,” you coo before moving to lap up the cum you left behind on his cock. He allows it, his hand in your hair while he sighs about how good you are.

Once you are cleaned up and all is said and done, the two of you finally lay side by side in your bed, together again at last. You curl into his chest, leaning your head against his heart and wrapping your arms around him. He welcomes it, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead “Welcome home, baby,” you whisper as you look up at him. “Now you gonna tell me how you got out?”

He looks down at you, almost as if he forgot he was supposed to answer a bunch of your very important questions. “Oh, Itadori did that,” he explains like he’s telling you the weather. “He’s a smart kid, y’know. Say, you up for some sushi? I’m cravin’ some fish right now.”

All you can do is laugh and kiss your man before getting the takeout menu that you keep in the nightstand next to the bed. All the important questions can wait.

For now, all you want and need is him.

THE END.

#smutty smut #my works #black fanfic writer #my fic shit #black coded reader #black writers #satoru gojo x black!reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo smut #feral gojo #happy birthday gojo #jujutsu kaisen smut

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ikarakie · 1 year

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what if they won? what if steve was trying to get the injured eddie out of the upside down as the gates were sewing themselves back up again? what if he knew that not everyone could get out safely, so he sends robin and nancy through. then he sends them eddie and hoists dustin after him and by the time everyone else is through, he knows there's no time.

dustin screams. he curses him out and sobs as the gate closes between them. steve promises it'll be fine, just take care of eddie, he'll be fine, but they both know he can't know that. robin looks so betrayed, so heartbroken, he can't bear to meet her eyes. just looks to the floor and tries to tune out their pleads until the gate's shut for good and he's all alone.

maybe he hadn't really thought it through. just figured his chances were better on this side than trying to squeeze through an actively closing gate and possibly being torn in half between worlds. decided that, out of all of them, he was the one who deserved to go back the least. they all had families that actually cared, that were waiting for them. they had each other, and soon enough they'd forget about him. it was all for the best.

but it still hurt. he still sat in the upside down version of eddie's trailer and wept. wished to tell dustin he loved him like a little brother, wished to kiss robin on her head one more time, wished to know if max was okay, wished that he and eddie could've become real, proper friends.

wished to know if there was something else eddie had wanted to tell him before they split off. if he'd misread things, especially after he'd pushed so hard for him and nancy to get back together. but none of that mattered anymore, because he was stuck here now.

after a few hours of crying and wallowing he gets his ass up and decides he's gonna at least try to survive for a while. he decides to stay in eddie's trailer. doesn't feel like he could make it to his own house, and doesn't even think he wants to. though he does trek to the nearest convenience store (and cries there, too, because he remembers bringing max and the kids here for snacks so many times). picks up whatever non-perishable food he can carry and then holes up.

he thinks of little will byers. cries some more, for him. so small, all alone in this place. how strong he was, how he was braver than steve ever would be, even at his young age. thinks he'd like to tell him that, if he ever could.

he's not sure how long passes. maybe days, maybe weeks. not like it's easy to tell how time goes down here. he would say he lost hope, but he never really had any hope to lose. he never intended for anyone to come and get him, made his peace with the fact he'd die here when he watched the ceiling gate close back up again. it's pathetic, how he mopes around and sits in a single spot for days on end. staring at the walls, not moving a muscle.

that's how she finds him. when he hears the door to the trailer jiggle, he just sort of thinks: ah, this is it. something's come for me. wonders if his parents will come to his funeral, if he even gets one.

it slams open. he doesn't even turn his head, doesn't want to know what it is that'll have him. just closes his eyes and waits, listens as it quietly comes towards him. crouches between his legs and- and takes his hands- what-

"steve." he opens his eyes and the floodgates start up again because it's el. her hair's buzzed again, which breaks his heart because he'd been the one to show her how to take care of it when she was growing it out. knew how proud she was of how long it'd gotten. but she's smiling so brightly, like she's won the lottery.

"el?" he asks, and he's shocked at how broken he sounds. "why are you here?"

"i have come to take you home." she says, rather matter of factly, leaving exactly zero room for argument. there's a fierce determination in her eyes, and she squeezes both of his hands.

but it's so dangerous here, he wants to say, you could've gotten hurt. why go through all of that for me?

and maybe she's been hiding mind reading powers from them, because she adds, "everyone misses you. i would have come sooner, but it took a while to get back to hawkins." then, she smiles. "i think they would have found a way even if i didn't, though."

it's like it all hits him at once. they've missed him. they've all been... looking for ways to come get him, this whole time. however long it's been. they didn't just forget about him like he wanted expected. the very idea suddenly seems so silly.

he takes a shaky breath. "well, in that case, let's not keep them waiting, yeah?" she smiles, big and happy, and nods.

part 2

#PART 2 EDDIE POV COMING SOON #stranger things #prompt #steve harrington #imagine #steddie #stranger things prompt #eddie munson #steddie prompt #steve and eddie #steddie fic #steddie hc #steddie headcanon #steddie ficlet #steve harrington fic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington ficlet #steve and el

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styllwaters · 4 months

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351 / GAZI-MIAH

At last this monster of a ref is finished. Introducing the first canon Knight character for Vivere 44!

351 is a mountain Knight from Ferhaht, though their host is part Fejga; hence the brown fur and stocky build. They act as the secondary antagonist in parts 1 and 2 of the story. In part 3, the final 'season', they feature as a protagonist. 351 starts out as a ruthless, aggressive soldier working for Genizix, intent on completing the mission assigned to them. Under the direction of their officer, 909, 351 has been dispatched to quickly and efficiently eliminate targets who threaten to expose the company's activities in the Zhagaviit galaxy.

Eventually they come to realise that they are being manipulated by both the weapons company and their abusive superior, and in part 2 351 challenges 909. Their fight results in 351 gaining an array of scars and a terrifying near-death experience, and though they survive, they are permanently mentally separated. Unable to go into the Trance which binds the consciousnesses of the Helmet and the Host, they must learn how to work together as two people again. 351 escapes to their homeplanet of Ettera, surviving in the wild as they race against time to deliver an important message and rediscover who they are. During part 3, they discard their identification number and take on a new name, Gazi-miah.

More in-depth lore, facts, and extra art below the cut!

BACKSTORY

[cw: abuse, drug use, general dark themes]

351 was always told that they were born in Genizix like 909, though this is not the case at all. 351 had a life before they were turned into a killing machine, living on the Ihmna Stretch with their Ferhahti order. Their life was upturned on the day of their scouting Expedition, a journey that all Knight squires must take on before they can become full soldiers (More on Knight social structure here). They were tasked to deliver a message to an allied order along with two other temporary scouts. Upon arrival, however, instead of friendly greetings they were met with a chilling scene - the order was being attacked by another, the two groups set against each other in a fearsome battle. The fight was secretly orchestrated by Genizix in a plot to evaluate the strongest soldiers to recruit to their cause, unbeknownst to anyone but them. Feeling that it was necessary to aid their allies, 351 and their peers rushed into battle. They fought fiercely, but the young Knights were up against fully-fledged soldiers and 351's companions perished. 351 themselves was severely injured, and in the aftermath, blacked out - but not before catching a glimpse of strange figures.

When they awoke, they were not on Ettera any more; rather an unfamiliar place with black walls and machines. They could barely remember anything from the night before; and slowly the rest of their memories on their homeplanet receded as Genizix toxins that they were injected with took effect. Later, 351 would be introduced to 909, an experienced Knight officer with an extensive history of working for Genizix, and placed in their unit. They were assigned a number for a name and moulded into the perfect killing machine. 909 fed 351 a constant stream of lies about where they came from, and like all soldiers recruited into the system, promised that in fighting for the company they had a chance to participate in something greater than themselves; to see the real universe outside of Zhagaviit. But 351 was driven more by fear than the potential for glory. They had seen what happened to those who disobeyed the higher-ups, and what could happen to them if they did not complete the missions.

909 stripped 351 of their individuality and left nothing but brute force and a desire to please. What the agent feared more even than Genizix was invoking 909's anger, so they pushed themselves to do any dirty work asked of them. The organisation became their whole world, their 'family', and 909 made sure they could never leave their clutches - manipulating them, threatening them and twisting their worldview. The process was sped up by specialised toxins designed by Genizix intended to distort perception and slow brain activity, inducing a dreamlike state. On Knights, this had the effect of triggering and enhancing the Trance, making it incredibly difficult for one to mentally separate the helmet from the host. With time 351 came to believe that they were one person, and they had no reason to think otherwise as their exposure to information was carefully controlled. 351 was conditioned to see their targets as non-sophont and they were rewarded for using cruel tactics. The more time they spent with 909, the more they began to lose their sense of self entirely until they were nothing but a weapon. Such is the fate of most soldiers who have wound up working for Genizix.

Despite the deep emotional (and physical) scarring and conditioning, during the events of Vivere 44 seeds of doubt are planted in 351's minds. These would only germinate further as they gain more clarity of their situation. Standing up to 909 was the first step they took towards breaking free of their chains, although it came with a cost. 351's host was physically Separated from their helmet in the fight, an injury which in most cases is lethal. They were repaired by a scientist who stitched them back together and managed to salvage a sliver of the bond which connected their minds. 351 could never enter the Trance again, though the helmet and host could still exchange thoughts between each other. As they were two separate entities now, the helmet guides the blind host with directions.

Instructed by the scientist (an Arrow named Nimbus, who will be introduced later) 351 left the facility on a new mission - to deliver an urgent message to Jes-ren, a Kaata Plains Knight living on a Ranch on Ettera. They traversed the land they once called home, now unfamiliar to them, relearning how to work together as a pair that might as well be complete strangers to each other. They recover their memories; or at the very least parts of it, as they cannot remember their original name. However, they gain a new one; Gazitkaar-Miahlad [meaning: lost messenger / returned to us].

The road is long and tremendously difficult; Gazi-miah struggles to unlearn years of aggression, addiction and lies, all the while carrying immense trauma. They eventually find peace, and settle down with Jes-ren in Kaat following the climax.

PERSONALITY

During their time at Genizix, agent 351 picked up on a lot of nasty habits and traits from 909 who brought out their worst attributes. They became merciless, taught to discard feelings and remorse. 351 was not afraid to make a show of their strength, and at times was needlessly cruel and taunting. The toxins affecting their nervous system tended to spur on their host's prey drive to a concerning degree, and a part of them enjoyed the power trip they got from hunting down targets. Though everything they did, they did for 909's approval - and to avoid getting disposed of by Genizix.

When their host and helmet were Separated, and the effects of the toxins wore off, gradually their aggressive attributes took a backseat as they grappled with their new situation. With great effort they gain an understanding of both the horrors they went through and the atrocities they committed for the sake of a corrupted system.

Once they escape Genizix's hold, it becomes clear that 351 is incredibly socially inept and any interaction that isn't violence or taking orders is new territory for them. Freedom and agency are difficult concepts for them to grasp, but with the aid of others around them they begin to adjust to their new life.

The helmet, Miahlad (my-a-lad) is the more practical of the two. He has one goal in mind; keeping the both of them safe. Miah is resourceful and smart, though when it comes to social interaction he's just as clueless as his host. This doesn't stop him from offering advice via their mind-link. He is firm, distrustful, and judgemental, but cares deeply for Gazitkaar even if he won't say it. At first he is reluctant to uncover the truth in fear that it will harm them both, preferring to stick to familiar ground. Despite his realistic worldview, more than once he considers going back to Genizix due to the simple fact that it's all they've ever known - even if it hurt them. As a helmet he cannot speak out loud but relearns sign language to communicate with other knights.

The host, Gazitkaar (gaz-it-car) is constantly questioning everything. She is less focused on the personal safety and wellbeing of the Knight body and more concerned with the wider truth, always seeking to know more. Gazi is not one to back down from a challenge, whether it be traversing dangerous territory or mastering a new skill. But like Miah, she is averse to touch, and will bite if boundaries are pushed far enough. She is more open to listening than her helmet, and is a fast learner. Though she is more adaptable than Miah, her curiosity can sometimes go unchecked and lead them into trouble.

EXTRAS

They are 37 years old and tower over everyone, including other Knights. Their prescence could fill a whole room.

The engraved bone necklace was given to them by a Polar Knight commander from Ehtte Thannoeh where they first landed on Ettera. The carving depicts an Aikka deity whose horn always points northwards, and is said to watch over lost travelers from the northern lights.

Gazi-miah's piercings were put in by the scientist Nimbus, intended to firmly fix the helmet to the host.

As a Genizix agent their build is very toned and muscular due to their intense training and strength-enhancing substances which also speed up wound recovery. Such a lifestyle was placing immense stress on their body, and as they spent more time on Ettera they gained more weight and adopted a healthier diet.

Their build and design is inspired by bulls and rottweilers.

Their fur is spiky due to chemicals and unnatural cleaning products resulting in an unpleasant, rough texture. In the future it becomes softer thanks to proper grooming.

Here's some of the first concept art I have of them (and also showcases their pelt colours better)

Aaand a simplified version of the ref without all the notes for your viewing pleasure.

I'll stop here before this post gets insanely long but if you have any questions I shall be delighted to answer!! ;] Thanks for listening to my tedtalk

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bucknastysbabe · 5 months

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Hi, could you write something that deals with this? ......

https://www.tumblr.com/mhsdatgo/737617577019408384/gorgeous-little-piece-of-shit-king-that-lives-in

So at first I was like lmfaooooo but then I was like wait I can put this little blonde bitch in the WORST situation. I shall do my best, thanks for the request, I hope to get back to my pathetic Aegon roots for this one.

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Dark divergence from canon, Aegon is more cutthroat, King Aegon, Lannister!Reader, she’s a daughter of Tyland, Tyland is on his king behavior, meanwhile dumbass Jason, Aegon has the wife parade, he’s literally still little baby man, Manipulative and morally gray reader, Aegon Is A Pain Slut, ye olde cock ring, ruined orgasms, Degredation, bratting for like 1s, breeding kink, boobs fixation, overstimmimg, pnv!sex

A/N: Wayyyyyy off canon and just so I can make this guy cry also I try to stray from making oc’s but bc it’s a Lannister reader y’know. Body type/face/skin/hair texture is up to you, just know gold hair and green eyes. Also kinda got into a storyline? Idk smut is here!!!

As Tyland Lannister’s only daughter, he sought to keep you on Casterly Rock. It was rare for a house as proud and mighty as yours not to have their fairest ladies sent to catch a dragon’s eye. Or merely have it chosen for you. Jason would’ve had you wedded and bedded to any of the white haired boys by now. Your father was stated once in a letter, “I’d liken it to a den of snakes rather than dragons.”

From his reports they were strange or downright deviant, controlled heavily by their green side of the family. Rhaenyra’s brood was of a better nature but obviously born from the seed of Harwin Strong. So you went about your duties, becoming a fine educated highborn lady to sit around and pop out babies. Maybe order fancy dresses out of boredom.

Although you childishly dreamt that a handsome white-haired man would take you dragon riding, that was not your future. Fate had other plans. Firstly, you were barred from going to the grand wedding of Prince Aemond to Lady Cassandra Baratheon. Strangely enough, it was to be held at the Hand’s gloomy accursed Harrenhal. You wrote an angry letter to your father and another to Jason, downright distraught over missing another royal wedding. You could find a potential mate at one of these gatherings!

Tyland wrote back simply, “I do not want you in that bewitched place. I have an uneasy feeling about this. I pray for you and love you dear lioness of Lannnister, still roaring her heart away.”

The initial anger faded into fear. Then the news had returned. Your Maester read the report. Dragon against dragon, blood to blood, they would call the failed union the ‘Green Wedding.’ Crown Princess Rhaenyra, Prince Daemon, all children dead but her toddling boy and blonde babes on Dragonstone

King Viserys had died the night before. Otto Hightower took matters into his own hands. Some would say it was well executed but not thought out. Princess Helaena had perished, the Blood Wyrm Caraxes attacking her in a fury before she could make it to her own dragon.

Prince Aemond and Aegon had taken to scorching Rhaenyra’s tent and all of her accompanying vassals. Harrenhal was lit aflame again— the Strongs burning up in a sea of smoke. The rest of the Hightowers had been haphazardly thrown into a wheelhouse, Queen Alicent purportedly retching and sobbing, crying for her daughter and late husband. They lay in boxes behind the cart. She had the young Daeron only for comfort.

Your mouth twisted up at the retelling of the scene of kin slaying and wretchedness. Your family had no love for the Blacks but for the Greens to so vilely destroy their own flesh and blood? You idly wondered about all of those dragons without riders. What Corlys and Rhaenys would do? She was fierce yet only had the young Baela and Rhaena.

Tyland had written to stay put, the Westerlands swore to the new King Aegon. War broke out as expected. The dragons saw an end to the strife rather quickly due to the help of Targaryen bastards mounting the riderless beasts. The realm was back under the control of the inept and horrid King Aegon the Second. They called it the half-year’s war. People spoke in hushed tones even at Casterly Rock.

Accursed family, we’re all doomed.

Otto Hightower should be sent to the wall— alas, then we’d have an idiot as a king.

Is the King going to marry soon?

You personally hoped he would marry soon. Jason had requested a portrait of you. There was no hidden reason why— he wanted lion’s blood on the already drenched Iron Throne. Your own father was staunch against that, writing that he had received a proposal from the Reynes of Castamere. You had smiled at that, their heir Ser Lynden was particularly handsome and kind. They had the riches to keep your lifestyle the same.

Not like the Targaryen’s didn’t. King Aegon could maybe see for a Dayne girl with their ashen hair and purple eyes. Or a Celtigar, they still had Valyrian blood. Mayhaps import one from Old Volantis— they claimed strong ancestry.

Alas. The raven came, your father’s anger poorly concealed.

“Even after all of my duties and help to the crown, asking for the Hand to keep my only daughter out of this, you are requested to be shown before the king along with the other highborn ladies of the Realm. I thought about setting my fool brother’s portrait on fire. Regardless, it shall be good to see my young lioness. I will be there every step of the way. Be kind.”

Your stomach sank to your toes before rising back up with anger. If that kinslaying mongrel deviant whore thought for a second he would enjoy your company? He would be sorely mistaken. Dragons may have claws, but so do lions and they are long and sharp. Huffing in anger, you stormed away from the letter.

The trip to the Red Keep was abysmal. It rained the entire way, you had to stop at Deep Den for a night to let the rains up. Their stony, cold castle was damp and you barely slept a wink. You awoke to ride to the Gold Road until the city walls and the Red Keep towered in the distance. You awed at the Dragonpit and the great Sept and it’s crystals.

Regardless of the magnificent buildings, the stench of the city was vile, air putrid with rotting fish and dung heaps. Nasty little peasants ogled your gold and red wheelhouse. Your frown deepened, anger boiling your blood. There was no way one could enjoy living here, fight to be here! King's Landing was a pile of shit with a Castle on top.

You were warmly welcomed by your father, a maid holding your dress aloft so the golden filigree wouldn’t get all mucky. Tyland hugged you and exhaustion fell over your body. You missed him dearly, the singular parent. Although your grandmother was very dear, she too had passed not too long ago.

Heads were still on pikes behind you. The smell of rot was stronger in the courtyard. You said in a miserable warble, “I detest it already, please dress me up ugly, maim me.” The fool Jason patted your back and laughed, “Ah, I missed your acrid tongue. King’s Landing is an acquired taste. Your quarters are facing the Blackwater so you can get some fresh air.”

“Others take you and that damn portrait,” you hissed at your nuncle.

Tyland led you quietly into the huge keep, prying eyes from all around. No pale-haired Targaryens to be seen. You could hear them whisper about the gold of your hair, the wealth oozing from the gown. Yes, like any of you have seen true class since the Conciliator Passed.

Once in the room you snapped at a servant to pour wine, sipping while other’s shuffled in and out to bring your trunks of goods. Tyland even spoke up, “Careful with that dress, please, it is for tomorrow.” You spat, “Tomorrow?”

He held a finger up, exhaustion lacing his face. Swirling the wine around you watched the bay and waited until it was just the two of you in a comfortable silence. Tyland had taught you that— know without speaking, listen when to listen. Tyland looked aged as he sank into the cushioned chair. He ran a hand over his face and sighed, “I thought the Dowager queen would have my back. Her son is much more willful than we thought. Otto wants our coin.”

“Borrow it from a bank and maybe they’ll root these vipers away,” you whispered under a covered hand. You’d been informed of the spies all about under Larys Strong. Tyland hummed a laugh, beckoning you over. Crawling into his lap, you felt as if you were a child again, emotions welling. You began to weep softly.

He rubbed your heaving back and shushed your cries. You hiccuped, “I-If he-he-he ch-chooses me!” Tyland sighed and finished in a quiet murmur, “You will show him that a lion is nothing to play with. King Aegon may be a pandering fool but he is easily swayed. Most of us think he has eyes for the Tyrell cousin.”

“Good,” you heaved. You cried in your father's arms until he put you to sleep at some point, kissing your forehead. Sleep was restless and pointless, you managed to gather some hours before the maidservants came to dress you.

They bathed, scrubbed, and used imported Westerland items. The smell made you homesick. They braided and twisted your hair, pinning a red and gold piece on top. The dress was just as proud— gold, rubies, pearls decorating the sleeves and neckline. Myrish lace was up to your chin, secured by a choker of more exquisite jewels and peridot to bring out your eyes. It cuffed at your wrists too. Maybe it would be too much for the weak-willed king.

The choker represented who you would always belong to— House Lannister, the sigil in solid gold and red enamel. A larger version cinched your waist. He could take the maiden with her tits corseted to her chin. The king merely needed a broodmare. A lingering voice tutted, “He may find holes where he pleases, but the king needs a queen.”

The door opened, Tyland extended an arm, lips in a tight line. He knew what you looked like. A queen.

The hall was full of highborn Ladies as you entered, you instantly recognized most of the sigils and house colors. King Aegon sat on the monstrous throne lazily, sipping wine while Otto ordered around women. A girl in the colors of Rosby didn’t even make a step up before he said, “No chin, next,” he looked down at Otto, “I’ll never believe a portrait. The Lannister girl probably looks like Jason with teats.”

Anger bubbled in your chest at his flippant demeanor and comments. The queen sat next to Otto, chiding Aegon. Thankfully you had a while in line. A while to get rightfully furious with this brat of a king! You had met squires with more dignity than he!

As you neared the imposing throne, you gauged the King’s looks. Definitely Valyrian with his pretty white waves and big violet eyes— hazy with drink and boredom. He was not of a warrior’s build, much to your chagrin. Aegon had shapely thighs but the rest seemed to be softened from his infamous gluttony.

Aegon yawned and pointed, “Redwyne? Not bad, Cole, go put her in the ‘perhaps’ section. Green eyes moved to the score of ladies looking fearful over toward the side. How crass. You could cut his cock off. So embroiled in coming up with torture scenes you blinked suddenly at the boom.

“Lady Lannister of Casterly Rock, daughter of Tyland. Aged 19.”

You stepped forward and kept your chin high, holding Aegon’s gaze intently, lips stiff. The king perked up, moving forward to get a look. He laughed, “Your father is on my council and you don’t pay obeisance?” With a grimace, you gave a weak curtsy to the young King.

Jason looked wide eyed from the side, mouthing, “PLAY NICE!”

Aegon hummed, standing up to walk down the throne, crowds gasping. As he drew closer you noticed the burns going down his cheek to curl below his collar. His violet eyes swam with something, a ringed finger tapping your tilted chin. He rasped, “A lioness for sure. Just overjoyed to get yanked from your golden castle. Is that why you out-dressed the entire kingdom?”

“I had to make sure you knew who I would always be, my liege,” you hissed, “Dragons can be tamed.”

“So can lions,” he quipped back, full lips splitting into a grin. He curled burned fingers into the lace guarding your neck. Aegon cooed, “I do wonder what you’ve got hiding under here. I’m guessing you have some nice teats. That’s my favorite game at the brothels.”

“You’re a vile little kinslaying creature.”

Otto and Alicent seemed to panic before Aegon laughed— a shrieking giggle. He stepped back up onto the dais and cheered, “I have chosen! The Lioness shall be mine blushing bride. Cheers!”

There was the sound of more defeated ladies but their fathers were likely inwardly cheering. Tyland looked ghastly grim, nuncle coming to peel him away. You refused to face the crowds, stepping over to the queen and the hand, fully curtsying. The queen grasped your palms and pled, “Please, guide him the best you can. I see a strength in you I haven’t seen since…,” she looked off and grew drawn. Lord Otto smiled, “More Lannister’s the merrier. Maybe Tyland can lighten his load.”

Aegon asked, “Alright, so when do we begin planning?”

You huffed and went to your father, hot tears soaking your cheeks. You misjudged. You thought he would be repulsed by a powerful woman. Instead he plucked you right up and now held you in this cage for a home.

‘A caged lion is still a lion, yes, yes’, you thought.

Tyland stated with a fury you had never seen before, “You will make that spoilt dragon break and bend.”

“Of course father.”

Aegon whined from between your feet, a dainty gold chain clasping his wrists, connected up to a gold collar engraved with rubies. This king you once hated belonged to you- heart and soul. He’d do anything, but you just preferred him to listen and be your pretty fuck toy. You felt love for him, differently, still love.

You wore a lace shift, the fabric barely covering anything, full tits and the gold curls of your cunt showing through. Aegon made to lave at your knee, getting slapped off. The blonde mewled, “Whyyyyy? I’ve been good?” Toeing his flushed cock, the pathetic thing whimpered and his prick oozed on the marble. You asked, “Tell me why you’re in trouble, My King?”

He swallowed around the collar, doe eyes watery and lashes clumped. Aegon’s cheeks turned red and he barked, “I’m the fucking king, I can say what I like!” You picked up the oak paddle and slapped his soft pooch of a belly, Aegon whining and writhing— the freak spurting more cum, hunching over and wheezing at the pain to his tender tummy.

“If you aren’t going to be my special boy, then I’ll just let you sit here and think about your actions.”

“No! No, I’ll be your special boy. I should not have japed at that squire over dinner.”

You cocked your head and leaned closer, “Why is that hm?”

Aegon sobbed sharply, pouty lips blubbering, “Be-be-because Iburnedhisfamilyscastleafterkinslaying.” You smiled and patted his unruly waves, smiling, “Good boy. The Seven may give you a chance. Probably not because you set your sister and uncle aflame, then proceeded to burn half the kingdom. You should be at the Wall with other war criminals.”

He nodded and cried, spreading his creamy thighs out for you. It was vastly amazing how much Aegon loved to be degraded yet praised. Your special boy. Sliding down the chair you perched on the king’s thighs, cradling his head with your sharp nails. You cooed, “Just needed a guiding hand, look how the kingdom has blossomed since you became my special boy? So pathetic and hopeless. My pretty little baby needs his queen."

He whined, arching into your touch, begging for a kiss. You relented, letting the needy little thing lap and press fervently to your own. He drooled, you wiping it away and taking over the lip lock. Nibbling gently at bitten lips, lapping into a tongue that tasted like sweetened wine. Aegon relaxed into your embrace, leaking all over your thin gown.

He began to rut and rut against your cunt, whining into your kisses. You indulged him until he was swelling and stuttering, backing off and fitting the gold ring around his cock. Aegon wailed and fell back pathetically, the ruined orgasm fucking up his senses.

“Noooo, no, no, I apologized!,” he protested meekly.

Shaking your head you shrugged, “I decide when you are absolved, not a thought in that pretty blonde head. Above men, we are gods, pfft.” He grumbled and squirmed, digging his toes down in frustration.

You returned to play with him, massaging his soft belly while suckling on the tip of his purpling prick, fingers rudely shoved up behind his heavy balls. Aegon moaned and shook, calling your name and begging for release. You drank down his bitter cum, leaking from the attention to his sweet spot from below.

You pulled off to thumb around the crown of his cock, cooing, “Oh you’re so gorgeous. My pathetic, soft little dragon. Feels so so good, yes?” He was practically riding your fingers, shying away from the intensity of the stimulation to his cockhead. The blonde keened, “S’good, g-gonna!” He wailed and thrashed harder, tears streaking a blotchy face. Only a thin stream leaked from his second ruined orgasm.

Aegon was babbling apologies now, promising dresses, jewelry, lands, his heart in a box if he could. It was garbled with his heavy tongue and fervent need. Gibberish really, if one didn’t see this side of their pouty king. What the wretch turned into when denied a good release— a snotty, sobbing, wonderfully broken mess.

He heaved sobs now, oversensitive to even the cool air. But his balls were full and swollen. Patting a limp thigh you asked gently, “Do you want to come now? Inside me? Your punishment is over.” Aegon sniffled, “Please my love.” You would keep the ring on for now but take it off once it didn’t seem he may blow on sight.

Aegon whined high in his chest, more tears falling as you eased onto his plump prick, extra swollen and hot. You gasped and grabbed blonde hair, praising, “Mmm- yes my darling precious boy. Filling your queen up good.”

He groaned and feebly arched, grabbing your tits and holding them as you rode his overused cock. Aegon cried and whined for a suck, you allowing him to take off the shift and shudder as plump lips enveloped your tits. He squirmed and lapped eagerly, loving to have a mouthful of your teats. Especially during that first pregnancy.

You were already close from the intensity of the punishment, swirling fingers around your button while unlatching the gold ring from behind. Aegon’s eyes flew open as he moaned vigorously, balls pumping you full immediately as he writhed around, still attached to your full chest. Your lashes fluttered at the warm feeling, cunt sucking and enjoying the heat, slick, and pressure of so much seed..

Hopefully this would take too. Another little one to dote on. Aegon was full on sobbing now, overwhelmed with emotions. You helped him to sit upright, still inside. He mewled, “S’too much.” You hugged his frame and cooed, pressing little kisses to his tender scars, “It’ll numb out, we want this to take do we not? Be good.”

“M’ still your special boy?,” he asked with reddened eyes.

Petting a full cheek you responded, “Knew whether I liked you or not, you would be. Hush now, relax, we’ll get some dinner and a warm bath my sweet. Tomorrow is a busy day.” He nodded and nuzzled between your tits like a babe. You smirked. Who knew this power could be claimed without bloodshed?

#hotd fanfic #hotd smut #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #Lannister!reader #Aegon ii Targaryen x Lannister!reader #sub!aegon #aegon ii imagine #Aegon ii targaryen x reader

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elryuse · 24 days

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Hey can u write a story of 5 stepsisters (IZTY) who r obsessed with their younger brother y/n with mommy kinks.

Stuck With The Cold Princesses

ITZY OT 5 X MALE READER

Y/n flinched as a chorus of giggles erupted from the living room. ITZY, the five K-Pop idols who had become his stepsisters just a month ago, were sprawled on the plush rug, a chaotic mess of limbs and laughter. They were a far cry from the cold, aloof stars he'd seen on television. Here, in the sanctuary of their shared home, they were a terrifying whirlwind of possessiveness and affection.

Their arrival had been a shock to his system. Lia, the eldest, with a voice that could melt glaciers and eyes that could freeze them solid, took charge of the kitchen, her playful jabs about his meager appetite laced with a hidden venom. Yeji, the leader, a human algorithm with a heart of barbed wire, meticulously planned his schedule, ensuring every minute was filled with "approved" activities. Ryujin, the brooding rapper, spoke in grunts and glares, but her silent protectiveness was a suffocating cloak around him. Chaeryeong, the quiet dancer, was an enigma, her gaze a pool of swirling emotions that only flickered into life when it landed on Y/n. And Yuna, the maknae, was a whirlwind of sunshine that could turn into a hurricane with a single raised eyebrow.

Their initial hostility, a barrage of snide remarks and playful (or not so playful) shoves, had been a terrifying initiation. But then, the accident happened. A late-night drive back from a concert, slick roads, a missed turn – and the world turned upside down. The car flipped, a sickening screech of metal, and then silence. Y/n, miraculously unscathed, had pulled them from the wreckage, his voice a beacon of calm in the chaos.

That night, huddled together in the sterile hospital room, a horrifying truth emerged. ITZY weren't just a collection of talented idols; they were survivors of a tragedy so profound it had forged an unbreakable bond. Years ago, their parents, a famous musician couple, had perished in a similar car crash. The girls, left alone, had navigated the treacherous world of the entertainment industry together, a fortress built on shared trauma.

The revelation changed everything. The teasing stopped. The playful hostility morphed into a fierce, possessive protectiveness that bordered on obsession. Their new family dynamic was a terrifying masterpiece, painted in shades of control and affection.

Lia, ever the cook, fussed over his meals, her playful jabs about his appetite laced with a possessiveness that sent shivers down his spine. Yeji, the strategist, took charge of his schedule, ensuring his days were filled with activities she deemed "appropriate" – activities that kept him isolated from anyone but themselves. Ryujin, the taciturn one, claimed his bed every night, her silent presence a physical barrier against the outside world.

One afternoon, while walking home from school, Y/n bumped into Hana, a girl from his class. He hadn't realized how starved he was for normal social interaction until her easy smile and gentle conversation ignited a flicker of warmth in his chest. Their conversation, however trivial, felt like a lifeline thrown across a vast ocean of isolation.

Unbeknownst to Y/n, a pair of cold blue eyes watched from a distance. Yeji, ever vigilant, her gaze a predator tracking its prey. Back at home, the atmosphere was thick with a chilling tension. ITZY, usually a cacophony of chatter, sat in unsettling silence. The air crackled with unspoken threats.

"We saw you with Hana today, Y/n," Yeji finally spoke, her voice low and laced with ice.

Y/n felt a cold knot tighten in his stomach. "It was nothing, just… talking."

Ryujin slammed her fist on the table, making him flinch. "We don't like her, Y/n. She's not good for you."

Lia, who had always played the voice of reason, purred, a sound devoid of warmth. "Don't worry, darling. We'll take care of it."

The next day, Hana vanished. Y/n, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs, searched for her everywhere. The police, notified by her frantic parents, offered little comfort. The girls, their faces devoid of any emotion, simply offered empty platitudes about "missing persons" and the "inefficiency of the authorities."

Days turned into weeks, and a horrifying realization dawned on Y/n. Hana wasn't missing; she'd been silenced. A single red rose, its petals the color of fresh blood, lay on his pillow one night. A chilling note, penned in Chaeryeong's elegant handwriting, accompanied it: "We only want you to be happy, Y/n. And happy people don't need other girls."

His gaze darted to the five girls, their faces illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the window. They weren't the vibrant idols he saw plastered on posters anymore. Their smiles were predatory, their eyes devoid of the playful glint they used to hold. In their place was a terrifying possessiveness that made them look like cornered animals guarding their territory.

Y/n understood then. Their love, born from shared trauma and isolation, was a twisted vine that had suffocated them all. They weren't just his family, they were his captors. The fear that had coiled in his stomach since Hana's disappearance now clawed its way up his throat, choking him with a raw terror.

He tried to reason with them, to appeal to their dwindling humanity, but his words were met with chilling silence. Lia, the once playful cook, spoke in a voice devoid of warmth. "You're safe here, Y/n. You don't need anyone else."

Ryujin, the brooding rapper, materialized beside him, her hand finding his wrist with a bruising grip. "We're all that you need."

Desperate, he pleaded with Chaeryeong, the quiet one who spent hours lost in her art. "Don't you see this isn't right? Hana… what did you do to her?"

Chaeryeong stared at him, her eyes pools of swirling sorrow. A single tear traced a path down her cheek, a stark contrast to the chilling smile playing on Lia's lips. "She made you happy," Chaeryeong whispered, her voice barely audible. "And we can't have that."

Yuna, the maknae, broke the chilling silence with a high-pitched giggle that sent shivers down Y/n's spine. "Don't worry, oppa! We'll make you happy. Forever."

Their twisted affection pressed in on him, a suffocating wall built from fear and devotion. Y/n knew then that escape wasn't an option. He was trapped in their gilded cage, a prisoner of their warped love. Days bled into weeks, and a horrifying routine unfolded.

Gone were the playful interactions. The girls became his constant companions, their possessiveness suffocating. Excursions outside the house were rare, and always under their watchful eyes. Their smiles became strained, their once vibrant personalities dulled by the weight of their actions and the growing paranoia that consumed them.

One night, as Y/n lay awake, staring at the flickering shadows dancing on the ceiling, Ryujin, usually a stoic presence, spoke in a voice thick with raw emotion. "It's getting harder," she confessed, her voice a ragged whisper. "The whispers… the dreams… they're getting louder."

Y/n didn't dare ask about the whispers or the dreams. He knew they were the ghosts of their past, the trauma that bound them together while slowly tearing them apart.

One stormy night, the tension reached a breaking point. Lia, usually the picture of control, broke down, her facade crumbling as she sobbed uncontrollably. Y/n, hesitant at first, reached out and offered a comforting touch.

"We didn't mean to hurt you, Y/n," she cried, her voice cracking with grief. "We just… we just wanted to be happy family again."

Something in her desperation resonated with Y/n. He saw in her the same fear and loneliness that mirrored his own. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to break free. A chance to heal, not just for him, but for them.

"Then let me help you," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "Let's get help together."

A flicker of hope sparked in Lia's tear-filled eyes, a fragile ember in the vast darkness of their situation. But before they could discuss it further, a scream tore through the house, a chilling sound that echoed throughout the night.

The bedroom door slammed open, revealing Yeji, her face contorted in a mask of rage. In her hand, she clutched a phone, the screen displaying a news report of a missing girl – a girl with striking green eyes and a familiar smile. Hana.

Y/n's frantic pleas for Hana's safety were met with chilling silence. The girls, their expressions a terrifying blend of relief and possessiveness, huddled closer to him. He saw not rage, but gratitude reflected in their eyes. They had won.

The police investigation, fueled by Y/n's fabricated story of a random encounter and abduction, hit a dead end. Hana – a name that would forever prickle his conscience – simply vanished. Freedom, a word that once held so much promise, now tasted like ashes in his mouth.

Life within their opulent penthouse became a twisted parody of family. Gone were any aspirations of college, of escaping the suffocating cocoon they'd woven around him. His days were meticulously planned – movie nights featuring only their chosen films, meals cooked under their watchful eyes, outings that kept him firmly within their grasp.

Their "therapy" sessions morphed into chilling confessionals. They poured out their childhood trauma, the raw pain of their parents' death, the fear that had solidified their bond into an unbreakable chain. Y/n, a captive audience, offered empty words of comfort, all the while knowing his sacrifice had become his prison sentence.

Nights were the worst. Their sprawling bed became a battlefield of suffocating affection. Lia, the one who used to tease him about his appetite, now fussed over every morsel he ate. Yeji, the strategist, ensured his every need was anticipated, before he even knew he had it. Ryujin, the taciturn one, clung to him with a silent possessiveness that spoke volumes. Chaeryeong, the quiet artist, would sketch him endlessly, her eyes devouring his every feature. And Yuna, the maknae, her once infectious laughter now held a tinge of hysteria, showered him with childish demands for attention.

Slowly, the defiant spark in Y/n's eyes dimmed, replaced by a hollow acceptance. He became a puppet, his emotions dulled by their suffocating love. He no longer fought against the endless movie marathons, the repetitive board games, the constant stream of childish questions.

One day, as they sprawled on the floor, giggling over a particularly silly game, a news report flashed across the screen – ITZY, the K-Pop stars, taking a hiatus to focus on "personal growth." A humorless chuckle escaped Y/n's lips. Personal growth indeed.

He looked around at the five faces, their gazes filled with a possessive contentment. They were no longer the vibrant idols plastered across magazines, but his captors, their smiles tinged with a touch of mania.

Y/n, trapped in their gilded cage, had become their ultimate trophy – a reminder of their triumph, a living testament to their twisted love. The "Mommies," as they insisted he call them, had won. His desperate sacrifice had not saved Hana, but had condemned him to a lifetime sentence in his own personal horror story. He was a prisoner, not just of their warped affection, but of his own guilt-fueled decision. The outside world had faded away, replaced by the stifling sweetness of their twisted love, a terrifying lullaby that lulled him into his own living nightmare.

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enigmatist17 · 7 months

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His skin is still sizzling when there's the sound of someone running towards Astarion.

It's been a few short minutes since Astarion had been forced to run for cover, the sun he'd come to love dearly now deadly with the last squirms of the tadpole that perished with its maker. He'd managed to find cover behind some crates, and failed to bite back pained whimpers as he struggled not to claw at himself.

"I have you, I have you." Blinded eyes frantically dart towards the direction of a familiar deep voice, and a cool hand cups the side of the spawns face. "You're safe, it's alright."

"It hurts..." It's such a pitiful whimper, but given the fact that at any moment he could harm himself with a mere tug, it seemed appropriate.

"Not for much longer." Gale's reassurance is all Astarion needs to hear, so for the moment he focuses on his breathing. It's not needed for what he is, but the motions have done wonders for his frazzled nerves since he was taught what felt like only yesterday, so in and out the air goes through a dead heart until Shadowheart kneels beside him. She does her best to heal the worst of it, burned skin turning from ashen grey slowly back to its normal pale shade, or at least parts of him anyways. He's still quite blind much to his disappointment, but the knowledge that Tav is nearby is a comfort, no matter how small.

"You'll need blood for the rest of this, I can't fix much more."

"I suppose I could do the rest of this myself." Astarion sniffs, and the cleric rolls her eyes in exasperation.

"Come on, there's a building not far from here that's still standing." Tav seems to have come from nowhere, draping a cloak the group was sure they had sold a while ago over the vampire. "This is the thickest one I had."

"Tav, darling, did I ever tell you how much I adore your little hoarding habit?" There's a snort as Astarion does his best to drape the heavy fabric around himself, grateful Gale is there to make sure it's done properly. They can hear the distant cries of citizens all over as they hurry towards the building, some sort of warehouse that is empty as Halsin wrenches the door open, only to pause with everyone else when vampire knowledge pops into their minds.

"I've never dealt with a vampire, but you're invited inside?" Shadowheart winced at how awkward she sounded, but for now Astarion doesn't tease, carefully reaching into the building and luckily finding no resistance. With that he's rushed inside, and there's a collective sigh as the tension of his potential demise is warded away.

"While it's not the hall of celebration I would have chosen, it will do." Jaheria hummed as she looked around, Minsc hovering by her side as always. "Let's go see if we can find some ale, I could do with a drink."

"Minsc and Boo approve of this idea!" The ranger grinned, and the duo set off while Halsin starts picking up fallen over tables and chairs.

"Where are we?" Astarion winces as he's set onto a chair, his back aching something fierce as he can hear random scraping of furniture.

"A warehouse, it'll do for now." Gale pats his leg, and Astarion can hear the humming of the Weave as Gale begins to do...something, if Shadowheart's soft sigh of awe said anything. "If we're to celebrate, it should at least look nice."

"I think he'll approve." Tav's footsteps are familiar to Astarion, the spawn tracking them go all around the room before eventually coming to sit beside him. "So, lets get you feeling a little bit better."

"Darling, I'm flattered." He can smell the soot from battle on Tav's barren arm that's soon placed in his hands, warm blood singing with the fury of a battle hard fought. The feeling seeps into his veins the moment Astarion bites down, each beat of Tav's heart fixing torn skin and making burns fade from view, the hero's smiling face emerging from his temporary blindness.

"There they are, I was missing that ruby gaze." Gale chuckled to himself, the basic bench Tav had been sitting on changing to marble with a plush cushion to catch their leader when they sink back with a pleased sigh.

"Silver tongue." With a kiss, Tav's arm is released, and the warm cloak is shed and placed over the other with a soft smile. "Thank you dear."

"Mhm..." Astarion can't help but gently pat the top of Tav's head, running his fingers through their soft hair before pulling back and carefully stretching his arms. His skin doesn't protest the movement, and the fear in his back of his mind melts away as he joins Gale at the closest table, and for a moment he takes in the first time they've had some actual peace.

No more rushing from battle to battle, no more chasing down the Absolute, no more fretting over saving the city.

Just peace.

"You'll walk in the sun again." Ruby eyes flicker over at the simple statement, and Gale can see the spike of desire at the thought that fades just as quick as it appears. "Not sure how to help with the water and invitations inside, but I'm sure with enough time and wine, I can fix that as well."

"How about one thing at a time, hm?" Gale's hands had never fully regained the warmth of life after he had died what felt like ages ago, but they were still warmer than Astarion's as he takes Gale's closet hand with a gentle noise, nearly lost in the lapping water a few feet away. "Your orb is more of a priority."

"Perhaps, but I always enjoy having multiple projects." He watches the spawn press a gentle kiss to the wound on the center of his palm, and once again his heart melts. "Will you come with me to Waterdeep?"

"Are you certain you want me?" The kisses climb up his hand slowly, little cuts from battle vanishing with each one, Halsin and Shadowheart's conversation across the room a welcome lull. "I don't think I've been to Waterdeep, could be fun."

"You're always welcome." The kisses stop when Astarion looks up, and the two hold a gaze before the vampire chuckles.

"You are too sweet." Gale rolls his eyes, and it's not long before Minsc and Jaheria have returned, having somehow found some intact ale barrels and some food.

The warehouse is filled with drunken heroes before long, all of them celebrating a fight that should have been impossible after such a long journey from that crash site weeks ago. Tav in particular tires out early, laughing at a tale Jaheria is entertaining everyone with while lounging on a bed Gale formed from thin air. They're resting against said wizard as they drain their cup once more, Astarion more than happy to pour their leader more drink as he sits on their other side, laughing when Tav finally toppled over into sleep.

"Whatever shall we do with you?" The vampire helped move them into a more comfortable position, and finally settles down himself as various members settle down around the large room for a well earned nap. The beating of their hearts are a comfort as Astarion watches as one by one they slip into sleep, pressing a kiss to Gale's forehead when he's the last to join his companions with a sleepy hum.

The saviors of Baldur's Gate sleep as the city and its people face the day with relief, and it's the first time they rest with utter peace.

#personal #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 spoilers #astarion #astarion ancunin #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #tav #bg3 tav #bloodweave #tav x gale x astarion #gn tav #shadowheart #halsin #jaheria #minsc and boo

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rosaren2498 · 1 year

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In Plain Sight

This is not the fic I mentioned in a previous post. That is still being edited but should be done soon. This is something that was just... rattling around in my head all day at work. Enjoy.

---

"You could have called me, you know."

Dream can't help but think of when his realm was under attack, and he called for help... how no one came, and he nearly perished trying to protect his realm. He thinks of when he messed up and the universe was ending, how he had asked for help to fix it, and how he had even gone to their parents; no one would help him.

Could I have? he wonders. Would you have come if I had called this time?

He does not say any of these things, no matter how they circle in his head. Instead, he picks something that is still true but says more about him than his thoughts on his family.

"I didn't want to worry you."

It is, evidently, the wrong thing to say for it sets Death off. She accuses him of being an idiot and compares him to Desire, only to immediately correct herself and say he is worse; it hurts him more than he'd ever admit.

Still, he joins Death when she offers. Despite how she clearly doesn't understand the emptiness, the seemingly never-ending cold, inside him, she is still his favorite sibling; he has missed her.

While he understands the greater lesson she tries to impart on their walk while she performs her function - and greatly appreciates the reminder of what he had forgotten - it does little. He is still empty inside... he is still so cold. It only worsens when he finds that the White Horse Tavern has been shut down; she is barely standing anymore.

However, before he can slip into his sister's realm, he sees the red arrow on the fence and feels the dreams soaking the paint. It is a prayer, a plea, clear as day: Come back. Come find me. I'm still here. He follows the arrow, and the daydreams soaked into it until he reaches the New Inn; it is singing.

When he walks inside, it feels like stepping into the Dreaming; it is like coming home. Every window, every table, every booth, every inch drips with the plea that had cried out from the painted arrow. He spots Hob Gadling almost immediately, sitting in a booth, the table littered with papers and a single glass of beer.

He does not mean to, he's not actively looking, but the entire Inn is drenched in Hob's daydreams already, and Dream catches a glimpse of what he is daydreaming of now; it makes the breath catch in his throat. Hob Gadling daydreams of Dream walking up and sitting down, offering a smile and maybe a name, but mostly an assurance that they are friends; that he has not lost Dream.

It is a rather simple daydream to fulfill.

When he walks up to the table, Hob grins and teases him. When he smiles, it is easier than it has been in centuries. When he asserts that they are friends, Hob smiles at him like the sun. And when he sits down, he no longer feels quite so empty... or quite so cold.

When he, haltingly, tells Hob where he has been, he's not expecting the anger nor the tears. He's certainly not expecting Hob to reach across the table and take his hand. Hob claims, rather firm and fierce, that had he known, he would've helped him. And unlike when his sister had essentially claimed the same only hours before... Dream finds he believes him. A warmth ignites deep inside him, Hob's warmth and his care and... his love.

Dream offers a smile, holding his dearest friends hand like he is something precious; he is.

"I know."

He's not sure why he didn't realize it before; likely his stubbornness or his pride. But he knows now, doesn't he? Hob Gadling waited for him. Hob Gadling would've come for him, had he known. Hob Gadling loves him... and Dream is now realizing that he loves Hob as well.

#dream of the endless #the sandman #dreamling #hob gadling

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baelontargaryen · 7 months

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DAENERYS APPRECIATION WEEK 2023

↳ DAY ONE: Character traits

The dwarf shrugged. “I know that she spent her childhood in exile, impoverished, living on dreams and schemes, running from one city to the next, always fearful, never safe, friendless but for a brother who was by all accounts half-mad … a brother who sold her maidenhood to the Dothraki for the promise of an army. I know that somewhere out upon the grass her dragons hatched, and so did she. I know she is proud. How not? What else was left her but pride? I know she is strong. How not? The Dothraki despise weakness. If Daenerys had been weak, she would have perished with Viserys. I know she is fierce. Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen are proof enough of that. She has crossed the grasslands and the red waste, survived assassins and conspiracies and fell sorceries, grieved for a brother and a husband and a son, trod the cities of the slavers to dust beneath her dainty sandaled feet. Now, how do you suppose this queen will react when you turn up with your begging bowl in hand and say, ‘Good morrow to you, Auntie. I am your nephew, Aegon, returned from the dead. I’ve been hiding on a poleboat all my life, but now I’ve washed the blue dye from my hair and I’d like a dragon, please … and oh, did I mention, my claim to the Iron Throne is stronger than your own?’”

#danyweek2023 #daenerys targaryen #daenerys stormborn #canondany #house targaryen #valyrianscrolls #targaryensource #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #asoiafesdit #daenerystargaryenedit #*mine #i can’t make gifs cause my computer is broken pls forgive me 😭

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peony-pearl · 8 months

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No like I might be late to this but I also just can't get over the fact that Katara and Hakoda found Kya potentially burned to death bc I don't think Yon Rha had any weapons (and he was a firebender anyway) which is both a horrific way to perish and is a devastating death to witness.

Like Katara being 8 years old, witnessing this gruesome fate of her mother with her father. Sokka wasn't there to stumble upon his mother's body, and Hakoda may have prevented him from seeing it once he and Katara found her.

Of course Katara is so fiercely protective of her mother's memory; she had to grow around not only losing her, but had to grow around her last visual memory of her mother having been literally burned alive.

#atla #Katara #cw burns #cw death #atla meta

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itsphoenix0724 · 10 months

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~WELCOME~

~Azriel x Reader~

Tonight, you sing for me- you and your mate enjoy unexpected fun in your new home when you borrow Az's shadows for the night (2.5k)

Flower Power -Az comes into contact with a strange flower on his trip to the continent, and he begins having some strange.....side effects. (3.3k)

Falling Stars -Az feels like his throat is closing when he sees you in your Starfall dress, and he can't seem to get a word out to you. At least, until you're both more than a few drinks in. (2.8k)

A Shadowed Throne -The warmer seasons have been particularly hard this year as Azriel awaits his Queen's return. When winter finally dawns he finds Death will only kneel to Life in one circumstance. (1.5k)

Can You Kill a God? -No one will ever forget why you are Death's queen ever again. (2.4k)

Tickle My Strings -Azriel becomes a regular guest at your performances, and when you take a trip back to your house, you find the two of you have a lot more in common than you thought. (4.6k)

Hold Me Gently -Azriel knew exactly what he signed up for when he became the court's spymaster, but sometimes everything gets too much for him to handle. (1.6k) Bonus Chapter!

Meet Me On The Ice: Series

You and Lucien Vanserra have been skating together since you were children, but when he has an accident that takes him out right before championships you turn to your brother and his hockey team to fill the position. His best friend Azriel has lethal grace on the ice and owes your brother a favor, which seems like a match made in heaven, except you can’t stand each other. Can you and Azriel pull a routine together in time for your competition, or will it all spiral out of control?

Dancing With Shadows: Series

Living your life with a long-distance relationship has never bothered you before, but when you surprise Az with a plane ticket you finally get to see how it works in person.

~Eris x Reader~

Your Heart on a Platter: Series

(On hiatus)

The only way to seek your revenge is to return the heir of Autumn's heart back to a witch in two months time. However, this task proves much more difficult than you presume it to be.

Prologue Part 1 Part 2

All Things Vile -A recon mission to the Autumn Court gets more heated than you intended. They say Autumn males fuck like they have fire in their veins-you guess you're about to find out.

~Cassian x Reader~

Through the Pass- On a quiet night in with his mate Cassian recounts his past lover. A fierce, bold-hearted Valkyrie who perished during the war. (2.1k)

~Rhysand x Reader~

Promises Pt 2-You don't argue with your husband often, and never anything as serious as this. However, some things may be too hard to come back from. (1.7k)

~REQUESTS~

Date Night (Azriel x Reader)

You Lookin'? (Azriel x Reader)

Sit down (Feyre x Reader)

Kiss Me In The Quiet (ACOTAR next-gen, Leander Vanserra x Reader)

The Fawn and Her Lion (ACOTAR next-gen, Leander Vanserra x Reader)

Forever Afterall (ACOTAR next-gen, Leander Vanserra x Reader)

Hate Me (Azriel x Reader)

~WRITING EVENTS~

Build Me A Bouquet -Ongoing

#acotar #masterlist

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ddarker-dreams · 1 year

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“No…you aren’t a god. So why should you expect me to revere you as one?” (For Scara)

Surrounded by all this blasphemous machinery, its metal cold and unfeeling, it is the familiar warmth of your humanity that serves as a beacon.

He could very well admonish you for your heresy. Perhaps he should. It’s what comes easiest to the likes of him, the most effort he could ever bother to muster when dealing with others. However, for you to still burn so bright despite his best attempts to extinguish the flame, he wonders if now is the time to try a different approach.

“Do you feel better now, getting all that out of your system?”

It’s a genuine inquiry — one meant to foster dialogue rather than shut it off. How fortunate you should feel for his benevolence. How couldn’t he be in a good mood, seeing his many centuries of efforts come together like this? He imagines it must be the same contentment an artist feels upon the eve of their magnum opus’ completion.

“I’ll never feel better,” your response is sharp enough to cut through steel, “So long as I’m forced to be with you.”

With some effort, he manages to force himself forward, ignoring the strain from the tubes inserted into his back. His fingers dance up your forearm in a motion that elicits shivers. “Why not make the most of your ‘misfortune’, then? So many would give anything to be in your position right now, blessed with my favor. And yet you throw it away without a second thought.”

“Power, total authority... these are things the wounded seek since healing the long way takes up too much time. I don’t see what’s so appealing to it.”

The way you fiercely glare makes him tremble; not with irritation, for once, but with delight.

By his fingertips, continents could be submerged in maelstroms. Thousands could perish in an instant, insignificant specs, all caught up in a higher calling that they could never fathom. The rush from knowing this is intoxicating, made all the better by your seemingly unbendable will. He doesn’t want to obliterate it no, that’d be too easy, too boring.

He wants it to incline toward him.

His lips caress the shell of your ear, affectionate, sly.

"I’m curious how long that pretty little philosophy of yours could last... if I gave you a taste of what you’ve continually rejected without trying.”

#'wouldst thou like to live deliciously' ass mf #scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere wanderer x reader #wanderer x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x reader #interactions #scaramouche brainrot #my stuff #answered #Anonymous

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mrxss · 1 year

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Daenerys Stormborn

"I know that she spent her childhood in exile, impoverished, living on dreams and schemes, running from one city to the next, always fearful, never safe, friendless but for a brother who was by all accounts half-mad... a brother who sold her maidenhood to the Dothraki for the promise of an army. I know that somewhere upon the grass, her dragons hatched, and so did she. I know she is proud. How not? What else was left her but pride? I know she is strong. How not? The Dothraki despise weakness. If Daenerys had been weak, she would have perished with Viserys. I know she is fierce. Astapor, Yunkai and Meereen are proof enough of that. She has survived assassins and conspiracies and fell sorceries, grieved for a brother and a husband and a son, trod the cities of the slavers to dust beneath her dainty sandaled feet."

Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains… by me. I was so excited to finally finish this piece, I loved the dragon crown design that I came up with, even tho the perspective it's a bit… off. I forgot her braids too, that's for a future drawing maybe. I love book Dany 💕

#digital art #digital illustration #art #digital painting #painting #asoiaf #daenerys targaryen #pro daenerys #queenofmereen #game of thrones #house of the dragon #a game of thrones #a clash of kings #a storm of swords #a feast for crows #a dance with dragons

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karniss-bg3 · 7 months

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Writing Prompt: seeing the sun again when the shadow curse is lifted? Maybe getting to see the (Spoiler?) fly across the sky? I imagine he’s light sensitive, but is he more in line with running from it or curious enough to watch it happen?

End of Act 2 spoilers.

Kar’niss wandered through the Shadowlands with moon lantern in hand, searching for more of his Queen’s followers. He paused when he noticed something soaring high above the barren tree line, a streak of radiant light that nearly split the sky in two. He squinted in confusion and took several hesitant steps forward to get a better view. Once his eyes adjusted to the sight he saw a flash of white, feathered wings that carried the beautiful figure on the wind, dressed top to toe in regal armor.

“What’s this, Majesty? One of your divine faithful?” Kar’niss hissed.

As the figure soared across the sky, Kar’niss noticed a shift in the air around him. The ground beneath his pointed legs shivered and cracked, lines drawn across the earth to make room for fresh seedlings to sprout. The drider’s face contorted while he staggered away from the new growth, his body turning around to bear witness to the forests steady transformation. Blackened trees groaned and swayed, their natural brown hues bleeding back into the bark like spilled ink over paper. Withered branches sprouted plump, vibrant green leaves that spread down the length bringing the once empty canopy back to life. The scents of death and decay were replaced with bright floral scents which hit Kar’niss’ nose violently, his head jerking back in response to the potent aroma.

“M-My Queen, what is happening? Please, speak to us!”

The dark clouds that had consumed the sky for so long began to part and fade away allowing the first rays of sunlight to kiss the landscape in what felt like an age. The moment his light sensitive eyes were exposed to such brilliance it made him recoil and hiss in anger. He backed up toward a cluster of revitalized trees, using their branches to offer him a form of shade. He clutched the moon lantern close to his breast, his body riddled with anxiety and a touch of fear. His ear twitched when he heard the sound of shadow creatures perishing nearby, their anguished screams enough to put him on high alert. Who was responsible for this? It must’ve been the Absolute, no one else could conquer such a curse in his mind.

Distracted as he was he didn’t catch the beating of wings nearby. His moving about had attracted the attention of the mysterious figure flying above, a stunning aasimar recently freed from captivity. Dame Aylin hovered inches above the ground, sword drawn and sights set on the baffled drider nearby. Kar’niss turned his head and caught sight of her, a lump forming in his throat.

“Majesty? Have you finally come to us?” His voice cracked, gaze focused on what he believed to be his Queen in the flesh.

She frowned at what she deemed a pathetic creature. “I will be your end, abomination.”

Kar’niss sucked in a sharp breath of air as if he’d taken a direct punch to the chest, his body turning to face her. “Wh—What? B-B-But my Queen, why?! We’ve served you faithfully, done all that you’ve asked. Please!”

Dame Aylin didn’t respond, her arm jutting to the side brandishing an intimidating blade of divine make. Her wings beat, carrying her toward the stunned creature with every intent to take his head. She swiped the blade in a fierce arc, the sharp metal cleaving across his chest straight through the chitin. This opened a painful wound and blood spilled free inciting a tormented screech from Kar’niss.

“Augh! Majesty, please! What have we done??” Kar’niss cried out as he tried to back away from the assault, his hand fumbling to reach for his sword.

Dame Aylin saw him reach for the blade and responded with a swift strike, the blades clanging together and with such force that it ripped his weapon from his hand. It spun out of his hand landing in the brush nearby, out of reach. Kar’niss’ lips quivered, his heart pounding in his chest cavity, his thoughts split between the burning slash in his chest and the heartbreak of losing the Absolute’s favor. He tried to retreat to put distance between the violence and himself but he wouldn’t be able to escape a foe as fierce as an aasimar.

She jumped into pursuit, flying over the hurried drider to land right in front of him. She swung once more landing a cut across the side of his face, narrowly missing the target of his neck. He skittered frantically until he backed up into a stone wall, a part of the many ruins peppered across the landscape. He was cornered and even though he could climb the wall he knew escape wasn’t possible. Perhaps he deserved this fate, surely he did something wrong to displease her, this was all his fault.

Kar’niss began to sob as he lowered his body to the ground, cupping his hands over his face in defeat. “Unworthy, we were...unworthy. Please forgive us, Majesty,” he wept.

Dame Aylin hovered above the distraught beast, her eyelids falling half mast, cold and uncaring to his plight. “This will be a mercy,” she began as she raised the sword above her head. “Not what you deserve, but what you shall get.”

He seemed ready to accept his face, terrified as he may have been. Neither heard the fast approach of footsteps, someone running with all of their might toward the confrontation. As Dame Aylin prepared to deliver the final blow someone slid to a stop in front of Kar’niss, their arms opened wide as if to protect him from the strike.

“Aylin, stop!” They cried.

The aasimar squinted but stayed her hand. “Tav, what are you doing? This beast is of the Absolute, he must be eliminated.”

Kar’niss panted, his fingers fanning out across his face to allow him a view of what was happening. He could scarcely believe what he witnessed, still tucked against the foundation of the building so tight it made his abdomen ache.

“He is, that’s true. But like many others he was abused and brainwashed by them. He’s endured endless suffering at the hands of so many. Under the protection of the artifact I think he could have a fighting chance to change. If you kill him then you’re punishing him for being a victim,” Tav explained.

She furrowed her brows beneath her helm, her wings steadily beating to keep her aloft. She’d sigh while lowering her blade, returning it to its sheath. “I do owe you for setting me free. If you wish to vouch for the drider then I will not argue. Just be wary, his mind appears volatile and unpredictable. Do not let your soft heart put you and your companions at risk.”

Tav nodded and lowered their arms. “Yes, I understand. Thank you, Aylin.”

She shifted her gaze between Tav and the cowering drider. “There is much left to do. I shall leave you with your new...ward.” Using her wings she ascended back into the sky, flying off and leaving the pair alone.

After she departed Tav breathed a sigh of relief. They turned to face Kar’niss who was in dire straights, trembling and visibly upset.

“Kar’niss, are you alright? You’re bleeding,” Tav said.

Kar’niss was unresponsive, his fingers curled into his face, his body tightly tucked against the wall. Moisture had collected over his face dripping from his chin, the heavy sound of his shaken breathing audible. Tav scowled and took a careful step closer.

“Let me help you. I promise you’re safe now. I’m sure you’re confused and I will explain everything soon. For now let’s focus on tending to those wounds.”

When Tav came close the drider whimpered and tried to back away although there was no room left to do so. “She...she has abandoned us. We were unworthy, an abomination, imperfect. We are nothing now.”

“You are not nothing. You are my friend, remember? The woman you saw was not the Absolute. She is an aasimar called Dame Aylin. She is on our side, but I realize you may not understand that yet.”

Kar’niss’ upper lip curled, his shaken hands sliding away from his face causing the blood on his cheek to smear. “What? She was not with our Queen?” He paused to let the information process. “Th-Then Majesty has not forsaken us?” Tav bit their lower lip. They knew it was a tender subject to tackle and a path they must tread carefully. They wanted to help Kar’niss and that meant giving in to his delusions, at least until they could form a stronger foothold elsewhere.

“No, She hasn’t forsaken you. Majesty wants you healthy so please, let me tend to you.”

The drider seemed to relax, many of his nerves tamed with the idea that he still had a purpose to serve. He’d issue a single nod to show it was alright to approach and Tav did exactly that. Rooting through their bag they retrieved supplies to tend to him, grabbing a rag and dousing it in water from their canteen. They dabbled it over the wound on his chest, wincing at how deep the cut appeared. They were just grateful Aylin hadn’t done more damage before they arrived.

He exhaled as Tav did their work, taking time to look around the changed woodland. Tall, healthy trees, vibrant flora, thick blades of grass, sparkling streams of water, the area was near unrecognizable now.

“The darkness has faded away, the land transformed. We no longer have need of Majesty’s gift.” He bowed his head, a pang of sorrow hanging in his words. “She no longer has need of us.”

Tav looked up at their forlorn companion, reaching to rest a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Where one purpose ends a new one begins. Stay with me, Kar’niss. I promise you’ll have no shortage of things to do. We need you.”

He blinked quickly after such a statement. He felt something swell within his chest that out classed the throbbing from his injury. He didn’t know what to say, the very idea anyone needed him almost felt surreal to him. His pedipalps curled and gave the faintest wiggle of intrigue, his tongue swiping across his lips to combat the growing dryness.

A new purpose, a new beginning, a speck of hope all for himself? Perhaps dreams can come true.

#baldur's gate 3 #kar'niss #drider #bg3 #karniss #baldurs gate 3 #answered #my writing #Dame Aylin #aasimar #Act 2 Spoilers #bg3 act 2 spoilers #bg3 fanfic #kar'niss x tav #Kar'niss fanfic #shadow curse #sorry this took so long #I needed time to think of a scenario I was happy with

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