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livinghostly · 2 months

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i will hold on to you for as long as you let me — megumi fushiguro x mom!reader, satoru gojo x reader

a/n: sorryyy the fushiguro-gojo family dynamic was rotting my brain and i needed this out of my system. LOTS of projection of my fear of growing up in this one soz. this was fully meant to be a drabble and it just kept going idk wc: 3.1k angst/fluff. mom!reader has a lot of bittersweet thoughts about megumi growing up and satoru is there to comfort <3 lots of parentheses and lots of repetition

you put on a brave face all day. all week, even. despite the burn in your chest that engulfed your lungs and squeezed unrelentingly. despite the tears that burned the corners of your eyes delicately balancing on the your waterline, one blink away from breaking the surface density and opening the floodgates to pour down your cheeks. despite the non-stop ache of your stomach, churning what you ate every day but still holding the same emptiness as anxiety consumed you.

megumi didn’t pack much, he never held on to many things to begin with. (you always prayed for that to change, for his comfort your home. you prayed he would see it as his own, as well). he neatly folded his clothes into his suitcases and stacked his hangers on top. he purchased a new sheet set for his bed in the dormitory because the one he was used to was much bigger, much softer.

he packed most of his books, carefully picking out the ones that tugged at the nostalgic parts of him, frayed along the edges after many years of re-reading, as well the ones that still had vibrant covers and stiff spines he hoped to finish. you noticed the leather journal he kept tied together– the ink-blotted pages bursting at the seams –sitting on the shelf before he tucked it into his box of personal belongings. it was his third one since living with you, all filled to every last page and used beyond ruin. the rest were hidden between his headboard and the wall. you pretended not to know, after stumbling upon them while changing his sheets.

closing the door to your home felt eerily empty. it looked the same as every day. the couch was cleaned and the floors swept. dishes rinsed and promptly put away. but with your lingering gaze your mind fixated on the dining table set for four, two adult pairs of shoes at the door, one pink backpack slumped on the hook of the closet door with an empty space below. your chest twisted at the lack of clutter, though it’d been like that for some time, with tsumiki and megumi growing older and cleaning up after themselves properly like you taught them. like you wanted. the pride you initially felt with those memories of parenting were becoming eclipsed with resentment and despair.

the ride to school was quick and familiar, megumi knew well what he was getting into after visiting there to train. satoru liked to call them little getaways from megumi’s civilian life, claiming he wasted too much time around non-sorcerers when he could be on missions with his ever-loving benefactor instead.

satoru, who was whining while he laid himself across the three seats in the back of your car. you’d banished him there for such a special occasion, and he threatened to transport himself to the school alone. an empty threat, at best. he didn’t want to miss this.

megumi had sparred with the older students and found himself thrown around the field many times already. he knew his way to the infirmary by heart, he knew where gojo tucked away his most powerful curse-imbued weapons (that were supposed to be under the surveillance of higher ups), and knew what letter-number combination granted him the ginger chips nobody else seemed to like.

you were glad he was comfortable. you were glad he would fall into routine easily after the repeated trips to jujutsu high and developing a rapport with his upperclassmen. you’d waited for the day that he’d truly be part of the jujutsu world and welcomed into a better suited environment for people like him. and you knew he would be great, he already possessed an incredible technique and wielded it like he’d been fine-tuning it since birth. far ahead from most kids his age, you were proud.

still, your gut was sinking, sinking, sinking into the floor with each passing second.

megumi picked his room in one of the far-away corners of the boys dormitory, leaving inumaki and panda heartbroken (panda said he would find a way to organize sleepover. megumi said he would drop out before that happened. inumaki cried– no, wailed at the rejection). yuuta fell into step with you, slipping one of the boxes out of your hands and insisting on helping instead. it was sweet, if it didn’t feel like he was ripping precious time away from you.

but you smiled, and granted his wish. megumi wasn’t complaining, he liked yuuta more than the others. it was a good chance for them to talk more. all of this, a chance, a new chapter, the rest of his life. the thoughts weighed on your shoulders with a disgusting strain traveling to your fingertips.

you were painfully aware you were in your own head, doing this all to yourself. he wasn’t going away, you would still be seeing him, more than you used to when he went to his other schools. he would always be here.

satoru found you in your classroom, while you were organizing the stationary with an unnaturally stiff composure. your arms were tense, he could see the muscles constantly flexing with each of your movements.

your jaw was clenching and unclenching again. you made a point not to look outside, where the second-years were training brashly after successfully moving their things back into their dorms. you made a point not to meet satoru’s dangerous stare as he shut the door to your classroom, as if it granted any privacy with the seven large windows running along the wall that showcased the hallway.

“what are you doing all by yourself, beautiful?” his tone was soft and inviting, begging you to open up and let yourself fall against the cushion of his words.

“um,” you exhaled, voice shaky. you scrunched your face to break apart the tension that had hardened your expression. “i figured i would get a few things ready for tomorrow.”

it took satoru’s long legs two-and-a-half strides to meet you at your desk, where you gently shut the drawer. there were a handful of dated photographs in there, signed with his name and the chicken scratch of two children.

“it’s all ready, baby. we did that last week.”

(correction: you did it. he tagged along for the shopping trip).

“there’s just… a few things...” you mumbled, not finding the strength to finish your own sentence.

satoru gently placed his hand on your shoulder, emitting inhuman warmth that spread across your skin. you leaned into him as he dragged his hand down your arm and intertwined your fingers with the care of handling fine china. his presence brought you solace, effortlessly bringing the walls down that you desperately wanted to wait until you got home to break.

he kissed the back of your hand and rubbed the skin. “you know you’re going to see him every day, right?”

it was embarrassing how well satoru knew you, knew your thought process like it was an extension of his own. he knew your doubts and insecurities, your fears and desires. he could predict the words before they came from your mouth, more in tune with the way you spoke than his mother tongue.

“mhm.”

“you know we’re going to be the ones chaperoning his missions, right?”

you closed your eyes and looked away. “i know.”

“do you remember when he said he’d like to go home some weekends, and have dinner?”

“he said that to be nice.”

“when has he ever been nice?”

you opened your eyes to glare at him, though he was right. megumi was not nice. he was polite. he was too self-aware for his own good, too perceptive of others and their emotions. in all the time that you’d known him, raised him, he made himself smaller for the convenience of others. he walked on his tiptoes for a year and a half so no one else would wake up because of him. he made his own breakfast and bit back his tears when he burned himself. he didn’t ask for things or food and didn’t offer his input unless asked directly. for some time, he was a ghost in his own home.

it seemed as soon as the bits of his shell started to break off, he was being swept away from you by the jujutsu world, leaving you with looming fears that consumed your mind and disrupted your sleep for weeks.

satoru smiled, though it was weighed down with your sadness. “hey, he’s not going anywhere, you know that. just because you’re not driving him home everyday doesn’t mean he’s gone.”

it’s funny, it’s nearly the same speech he gave you when tsumiki started middle school. and when megumi followed those same steps.

tsumiki didn’t make it this far, though.

the thought makes your lip wobble again, and you bite it back pathetically.

“i know. i know that. it’s just that…” your voice cracked, and you shoved your head in your hands. your palms squeezed your eyes in a desperate attempt to stop the already-flowing tears. “he’s not my little boy anymore.”

satoru’s soothing hands pull you into a tight hug, and you don’t have it in you yet to move your hands from your face. his embrace makes you sob harder, louder as all your emotions from the last week begin to pour out at once. his chest rumbled with your cries, and he tucked you further under his arms as if to shield you from what was making you hurt so much. it was all you.

“baby…” he chuckled, without a hint mirth or mockery. he squeezed you with compassion and adoration. “you know that’s not true. he’s still pretty short, he’s got another growth spurt coming.”

a small laugh slipped through, but was quickly drowned out by your cries.

“he’ll be okay. he’s still here.”

he was so, so warm. he gently began to rock back and forth with you, the heels of your shoes gently clicking on the tile floor. a small hiccup erupted from you as you found the strength to wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his chest. the familiar thrum of his heartbeat welcomed you.

“i know, i’m sorry. i know he’s not leaving, or anything… i just… i thought i was ready.” you blubbered into his button-up. surely, there’d be two wet spots where your eyes were when you pulled away.

he swayed side to side with you, staring at the blackboard ahead of him. he nestled his chin on the top of your head, wondering if you could hear the cracks tearing through his heart. “it’s okay if you’re not ready. but you’re treating this like it's goodbye.”

“but what if we don’t get a goodbye?”

“okay, you really are overthinking this,” he pulled away from your embrace, your fingers still digging into the material of his shirt. he brushed away the hair covering your eyes, stuck to your skin by the wetness of your cheeks. streaks ran through your foundation and the corners of your eyes were smudged. “there you are. so pretty.”

it was silly how he believed he could make things better like that. it was silly that he was a little bit right.

“don’t think for a second i’ll let megumi be sent on a mission he can’t handle. he’s going to be fine.”

satoru’s love ran deep. for you, for megumi, for all his students. he fought curses everyday for you, rotted himself with his technique and stitched himself back up in a moment’s notice to fight for you. to come home to you. all of humanity be damned, those closest to him were the ones he fought for, and he would do everything in his power to preserve their lives.

he already towed the line with the higher-ups and their conservative rules and regulations, but he would tear them down if you asked. for megumi, he’d fight tooth and nail to see that he wasn’t being sent off on a mission ill-prepared. under his watch, things would be different for his students.

you nodded meekly, wiping away your tears with one hand. “i hate when you’re right, toru. it’s really annoying.”

he smoothed down your hair and grinned. “i know, just let me have this one, though.”

his sweet murmurs filled your ears, along with the gentle shuffling of your clothes as you made yourself presentable again. you balled up your sleeves and patted the corners of your eyes gently, and he straightened out the hem of your shirt. it was wrinkled, a reminder of how harshly you clung to him.

you smiled at the water stains on his shirt now, and he claimed it was in need of dry cleaning anyway.

neither of you noticed the eyes of megumi and yuuta, both stuck in place at the very corner of the windows leading to the hallway. they had training staffs with them, megumi’s grip becoming tighter as he watched you wipe your eyes and knock your head into satoru’s chest lazily. your shoulders low, clearly drained from the amount you cried.

yuuta was frozen, eyes flickering from you to megumi repeatedly. he found his courage in placing a hand on his shoulder, a feather-light grip. “hey, let’s go through the east wing. i’m pretty sure it’s faster that way.”

it wasn’t. but megumi nodded anyway, begrudgingly tearing his gaze from you and turning around with yuuta.

you stared down the red light of the intersection with a blank face, blank mind. letting it all out of your system had successfully flushed out your emotions, taking the rest of your energy along with it. the car was painfully quiet, but no part of you wanted to listen to anything.

satoru was whisked away by yaga, being delivered another mission he swore would take less than a day. ‘less than twelve hours’, he promised to be back for megumi’s first day. he would make it.

it was dark, and you milked all the time you could on school grounds. speaking with yaga and shoko, running through the still-developing information of missions to be sent on. cleaning the classrooms. the lockers. stocking the teachers lounge. dusting the armory. before you knew it the curfew ushered the students into their dorms.

a ringtone broke through your thoughts, making you jump. though the tune was soft, the sudden intrusion made it much more shrill. you fumbled with your phone in the passenger seat, seeing megumi’s contact on the screen.

“hello?”

“hey, mom?”

it took everything you had left not to gawk. he said it before, sparingly in desperation for comfort. his voice was quiet, a near-whisper despite the fact he was alone in his dorm. like he was nervous.

“yes, megumi?”

“um… are you home?”

you wondered if he forgot something. “no, i’m still driving. are you okay?”

“i’m fine, i just… can’t sleep, i guess…” he trailed off, hoping for you to fill in the gap.

“oh. okay. did you take–“

“do you think you could pick me up?” he interrupted. “and i just stay home tonight? you could drive me in the morning.”

you were quick to dissolve into a smile, pointed at the streetlamp on the sidewalk. sadness struck your eyes but you were too occupied by the warmth of his question to feel it.

“yeah. i can be back there in a few minutes, just let me turn around.”

“thanks.”

he didn’t hang up. neither did you. the silence lived on for a few seconds.

“mom?”

“yeah?”

“… gojo’s on a mission, right?”

you laughed, your hand sliding across the steering wheel as you reouted back to the school. “yeah, megs, he’ll be gone tonight.”

“he’s back tomorrow?”

“yeah, we can leave before he gets home.”

“thanks.”

bonus:

satoru tiptoed through the entrance of your home, brushing his blindfold over his hair and peeling it off his head. he hung it up with his keys, lax arms nearly missing the hook on the closet door meant for him. it was beyond late, and he was tired, but he was home like he said he would be.

he bent down to tie his shoes, buffering momentarily as he caught a glance of well-worn sneakers at the front door. they were as clean as they could be, though scuffed rubber turning gray and the laces becoming frayed where they were tightened most.

satoru made a grunt in acknowledgement to no one but himself, as he tossed his shoes down. he glanced around the living space, cautiously bringing himself to each room with a curious itch to scratch. a third pair of shoes. both backpacks on the door. dishes for two placed on the drying rack.

he was expertly quiet by nature, but found himself avoiding the squeaky floorboards on the stairs and all the way to the hallway. he was greeted with a blue sign, corners covered with dog stickers. the frilly handwriting of tsumiki warding off unwanted visitors with the phrase: “megumi’s room. keep out!!”

the door opened quietly, satoru pushing it open to the limit and stopping before it would let out an ungodly squeak. he insisted on never getting it fixed, knowing it bothered megumi.

megumi had his face shoved in his pillow, a desperate attempt to block out any light creeping through the crack of his bedroom door or the streetlamp just outside the window. he was always a light sleeper, always on edge, sleeping with his back to the wall so if something barged in the night he was ready. it was horrible he thought that way, you always said.

his duvet covers were black and white plaid, per his request three years ago when he begged to be free of the puppy sheets. still, he seemed small, curled up in a ball. his face was released of the usual tension and his light breathing filled the room. for a moment, he was little again.

satoru smiled, taking a step back and closing the door gently.

#spleen writes #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk angst #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #jjk satoru gojo #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo fluff #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x mom!reader #jjk gojo #jjk megumi #jjk megumi fushiguro #megumi fluff #mom!reader #satoru gojo fic #fushiguro x reader #megumi x reader

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freelancearsonist · 2 months

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Parts and Labor

➔ Eddie Munson x fem!Reader - 5k

➔ Eddie’s van is practically falling apart, but he doesn’t have the heart to replace it. Luckily for him, you’re willing to put in the effort to fix it—as long as he helps.

➔ Rated MA for unprotected p in v sex (don’t do this irl pls), oral (f receiving), heavy petting, creampie, fingering, cumplay, Eddie has scars and lies about where he got them, reader has female anatomy and uses fem pronouns, reader is a mechanic [please let me know if i missed anything at all :)]

“SHIT, FUCK!”

Eddie slams down the hood of his van, kicks the front tire as hard as he can, then winces–both at the sudden pain in his foot and at the overreaction.

“Come on baby, please,” he pleads futilely to the unresponsive engine. “I’ll give you anything, just start.”

The engine, apparently, won’t be seduced.

Eddie digs through the pocket of his low-slung jeans, finds a dime somewhere in the pile of gum wrappers and old receipts, and runs to stick the coin into the nearest payphone booth.

The garage answers on the last ring, and Eddie doesn’t even have to identify himself. They’re almost as familiar with his junker van as he is himself. They’ve wrung more money out of him for repairs than the damned thing is worth, and Eddie knows it. He knows the vehicle is on its deathbed–repeatedly resuscitated at this point–and that he should just replace it. But he can’t. Beyond fear of hurting its feelings, he’s become attached to it. He’s made memories in that stupid van. To him, replacing his ride would be like wading a huge portion of his life up and throwing it in the trash. He just won’t do it.

The garage is merciful enough to give him a ride there along with towing his poor, lifeless van. He’s not eager to spend a day in the waiting room sipping lukewarm black coffee, but he needs to be there for her. His lady is dying–waiting for news from her doctors is the least he can do.

He forgets all about his lady when you walk through the door.

You’re the Porche 944 of women. He’s never seen anything or anyone quite as breathtaking as you–with the small grease smudge on your cheek, your hair pulled back so sloppily that half of it is already fallen down, and your denim overalls unclipped on one side to show off the faded Iron Maiden t-shirt you wear underneath. You’re wiping your hands on a grease rag as you approach him and Eddie just stands in dumbfounded silence. Who are you and where have you been his entire life?

“Munson,” you greet with a slight smile.

He almost chokes. You know his name? He knows he’s never seen you before in his life–you’re the kind of girl he could never forget. Especially with how much time he’s had to spend here.

“Having trouble getting her to start?” you continue without missing a beat. Eddie doesn’t miss the way you refer to his van, and it makes him impossibly more hooked. “Seems to be a bad ignition coil. Easy enough to fix, except your crankshaft is rusted to shit and I’m honestly surprised the whole engine hasn’t fallen apart when you hit a bump or something. Seriously, it’s dangerous to drive at this point.”

Eddie hears you, but he doesn’t comprehend a single word you’re saying. He’s hyper-fixated on the way your lips form around your words, on how you’re speaking mechanics and you actually understand what you’re saying. He’s never met anyone like you.

“But you can fix her, right?”

You smile, and he feels his heart skip a beat. “Honestly? My professional advice is to just sell it for scrap and buy a new car.”

It’s like a smack to the face. He has to blink the shock out of his eyes while you stand there so simply, like you didn’t just tell him to kill his darling.

”What’s your unprofessional advice?”

You bite your lip, busy your hands with a grease cloth. “I could fix it. But it’ll take some time, and it’ll be expensive as hell. It would honestly be cheaper to buy new.”

”I’ll pay for the fix,” he says firmly before he can consider what he’s really agreeing to. “I can’t just replace her.”

Your smile is softer when you look back up at him. “I really admire that.”

Those words shouldn’t have as much of an effect on him as they do.

”I can do the job, but not here. There’s no way my boss would let me take up a lift for as long as I need to actually do a good job, and I don’t believe in doing mediocre work. But I’ve got enough equipment at my place if you trust me?”

You’re not only saving his lady, you’re promising not to screw him like so many people have before. He’s thinking about proposing, but he keeps his cool long enough to say, “yeah. Yeah, I trust you.”

”How much do you know about cars?”

He notices a strand of hair that’s fallen down into your face, and it takes all his restraint to keep himself from pushing it behind your ear for you.

”I know enough,” he says with a modest shrug.

Your eyes shine with something that he can’t identify as you gaze up at him. “Well, if you wanna help me, I’ll only charge you for parts.”

Eddie doesn’t even need to consider. A chance to spend more time with you, and a discount on repairs? “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds great.”

The first night he comes over, it’s the sticky hot of a midsummer Indiana evening. He’s in low-slung faded jeans and a baggy white tank top that shows more of his chest than should be legal. There’s so much lightly tanned skin on display that you can’t decide where to focus—much less consider the engine you’re supposed to be working on. You can’t help asking about each little spot of ink you see on his skin, curious to learn even the smallest nuisances of his personality.

He’s the most interesting person you’ve met in this podunk town since your move to Hawkins from Indianapolis. He’s goofy and aloof, charming yet awkward. He’s so gentle and sweet you can practically smell the saccharine of his words as he speaks. He’s an animated speaker—so passionate about everything he does that he puts his whole body into it. There’s a refreshing energy to him that recharges your social battery as he goes, rather than draining it like everyone else does.

By the second night of working on Eddie’s van with him, you’re close enough to call him a friend. You know what seems like every small detail about him—his favorite color, the story behind the small scar on his left knee.

By the third night, you’re fighting every instinct in your brain to keep from throwing him inside said van and having your way with him.

Especially when you deliver to him a cold glass of iced tea and he drinks it in the sluttiest possible way he can—big gulps that send the condensation on the outside of the glass spilling down his chin to leave little paths of wetness down his neck and chest. It’s like full-on torture.

On the fourth night, you’ve had the engine block completely disassembled and ready for the new crankshaft for a couple days. It’s hard for Eddie to see his baby gutted and torn apart this way, but he knows you’ve got the most capable hands of any mechanic he’s ever known. There’s a delicacy and attention to detail in your craft that he’s never seen before, and he’s enraptured with watching you work. He’s even more enraptured by the sticky glistening of your skin in the red-orange light of sunset every night.

There’s really no reason for him to keep meeting you every single evening—all you’re doing at this point is busywork cleaning various parts because the real work can’t be done until the new parts arrive. Both of you know it, too—but neither of you will admit it. You’ve both come to look forward to these few hours together, comfortable even though you’re both sweaty, sticky, and greasy. Suspending them at this point would be a crime.

There’s just the faintest peek of reddish light left over the horizon when the conversation lulls, but Eddie’s not ready to go quite yet. “You hear Megadeth’s touring in Indy this fall?”

”No shit?”

”No shit. Tickets are probably going fast.”

”We should get some,” you say with a cautious glance over at him. This is it—this is as grand of an invitation as you can work up the courage to make. If he can’t take the bait here, you’ll be forever casting lingering glances and praying he’ll make a more substantial move than just eyeing you up and down like you’re the finest, purest water in a parched desert.

Eddie’s heart rate skyrockets even as he’s willing himself not to read too far into your words. ”Yeah? You’d… wanna go with me?”

”Might be nice. To hang out and do something other than pretend to work on your car.”

”All you had to do was ask, sweetheart,” he says with a look that’s far too smug for his own good on his face.

Even though it’s a little ridiculous, his cockiness flusters you. ”Wasn’t sure you’d want to.”

”How could I not? I’ve got the girl of my dreams five feet away from me, I’d be crazy to not want to spend every second I can get with her.”

”Oh, is there someone else here?” You try to giggle and make it sound like a lighthearted joke, but it comes out far more flustered than you mean for it to.

”No. Just you.” It’s only three words, yet you’ve never heard anything more fraught with tension in your life. It’s in his dark eyes, in the set of his jaw, in the way his hands clench into fists at his side to keep from reaching for you.

All your eyes can manage to do is trace up the prominent veins in his forearms from his white-knuckled fists. If you meet his eyes, you know your resolve will disappear faster than a delicate snowflake on warm skin.

But he takes a step closer to you, and it’s too late before you can even consider stopping yourself.

His dark eyes are swirling with lust. There’s no mistaking it, no other label for it. It looks animalistic, almost dangerous. He looks like he wants to devour you whole, and you want nothing more than to find out if he will.

”You, umm… need a refill?” You gesture with your eyes to the now empty glass in his hand, then nod toward the house. It’s all the invitation he needs.

The second the door clicks shut behind you, Eddie’s hands are on you. They start on your waist, effectively pinning you against the closed door and using you as an anchor to press himself as close to you as he can.

It’s eager and rushed, even a little sloppy. He kisses wet, he kisses deep. It’s like he’s trying to suck the air straight from your lungs, and you let him. Nothing has ever felt so good before.

“Christ,” he mumbles as his hot lips work their way down your neck. “Been wanting to do this for days.”

There’s a slight tremble in your hands as your fingers work their way into his curls, already nearly overwhelmed with the sensation of his mouth on your overheated skin. “Why didn’t you?”

”Didn’t wanna scare you off,” he confesses. It’s so endearing it pulls a moan from your lips.

“There’s not a lot you could do to scare me off, Eddie.” You mean it; you try to prove it by tugging him closer and slotting him between your legs. You can feel his pent up desire, hard and thick, as it presses against your core through his jeans. The feeling alone makes you ache with desire. It’s like a wave sweeps through you, cascading from head to toe and making everything in its wake prickle with unbearable want. You are molten flame, and he is the only thing that can douse your heat.

No one’s ever had such an astronomical effect on you from doing so little.

Eddie isn’t faring much better. He walks in a fog, blinded by clouding desire—especially so when your leg hitches up and around his hip to tug him harder against you. It’s like his cruise control is set, speed regulating with every incline or downward tilt—adjusting every little movement and touch to draw more breathless moans and whimpers from your parted lips.

A slight tug to his hair snaps him back into his own body, drawing a sudden clarity on the situation. He’s no longer an outsider looking in, as if an astral projection watching and criticizing his every move. Eddie is fully present and hyper-focused on one thing: making sure no other person can ever properly satisfy you again.

”You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs over and over into your skin as he traces kisses over your exposed neck and shoulders. His fingers hook into the strap of your tank top and slide it out of place, making way for a series of open-mouthed kisses as he ensures that not an inch of your skin is neglected.

You keen at his praise and reward him with a gentle tug to his messy curls. “So are you.”

He prickles with affection at your compliment, his cheeks warming in a way that feels completely foreign to him. No one’s ever called him beautiful before—he’s really never thought it could even be applicable to him—but he feels like he could get used to it.

He asks so nicely to take your top off and you give him permission without hesitation. You can see the flash of want in his eyes as he takes in your mostly naked torso, gaze skirting around the boundary of your bra as if he’s too shy to ask again for permission to remove a garment.

You decide to put on a little show as you give him what he wants; you unhook your bra and slide the straps down your arms so achingly slowly he thinks he might combust. And then finally, gloriously, you let the fabric fall to the floor and Eddie gets his first look at your bare chest.

He gapes, open-mouthed, for longer than is frankly comfortable—to the point you’re almost about to cover yourself up again.

And then he says, “Permission to do something highly inappropriate and maybe even a little degrading?”

”Uhh… sure?”

In a flash he’s buried face first in your sternum, hands coming to cup your breasts and dramatically smother himself in your cleavage. He lets out a pleasured groan as you giggle, deft fingers lightly tugging and pinching the sensitive peaks of your nipples. He prickles with pride at the breathy gasp you emit when his mouth starts working—he turns his head to suck one hard mound between his lips and keeps up the pressure with his fingers on the other.

”Sh-shit…” you sigh and slump into his attention, arms hanging like limp ribbons by your sides. “Eddie…”

”Love the way you say my name,” he practically purrs. “So fucking pretty.”

He switches sides now, firmly dragging the flat of his tongue over your nipple before sealing his lips around it and sucking. The pure pressure of it makes you cry out, fingers tugging harshly at his curls.

”Jesus, that feels amazing,” you whine. It’s so good, but it’s not nearly enough at the same time. And it’s like he can sense it—like he’s got some kind of a psychic connection with your body. He adapts immediately to what you need, dropping to his knees to unbutton your jean shorts and deftly slip them down and off your legs. He smooths his palms against your bare thighs and lets you feel the cold kiss of his metal rings against the burning flesh there, all the while looking up at you with dark eyes that you can’t quite identify. There’s lust, sure, but something else in those chocolate orbs. Something akin to adoration—like he’s on his knees preparing to worship you.

”Can I?” Those long, thick fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear and you’re nodding before he’s even finished asking.

You wish you could put the sound he lets out once he finally has you bare on vinyl to repeat over and over again. It’s somewhere between a growl and a whimper, completely heady with desire and want; need, even. The fact that he needs you like this is so overwhelming and flattering that you can barely process it. You don’t have time to, because in a moment his lips are wrapping themselves around your clit and sucking. He goes straight past gentle and into pure pressure just like he did with your nipples; as above, so below. And it’s bliss—thigh-quaking, breath-hitching, earth-shattering bliss.

All you can manage to do is scrabble for purchase against the wall his hands have you pinned to. You have to sound absolutely pathetic, but you can’t be bothered to care because you’re precariously close to coming and it’s only been a matter of minutes.

He moans, like he’s tasting the finest, most expensive and decadent cuisine he’s ever had. The sound vibrates against your pussy and travels up your spine all the way to your brain—it nests there and makes it’s home, drives you into a fuzzy state of ecstasy. And all the while that luxurious tongue is hard at work, alternating between lapping thirstily at your entrance and fluttering against your clit in a way that causes every muscle in your abdomen to contract.

Nothing should be able to feel this good—it’s so desperately close to overwhelming. Simultaneously, you would rather die than lose this feeling is it crescendos to a fever pitch.

”Let go,” he murmurs against you, and you know he’s not talking about your grip on his hair. “It’s okay. I gotcha, let go f’me.”

You’ve never fancied yourself to be the obedient type per se, but apparently your body is feeling particularly traitorous today. It takes all of three more seconds before you’re doing exactly what he said—legs trembling with the burden of your weight as you crash and burn on his tongue. You whine and beg and plead, all of it meaningless babble as he works you over and through your pleasure with that wonderful, amazing, perfect mouth of his.

You don’t even process you’re collapsing, but thankfully Eddie does and catches you with ease. There’s a cocky chuckle in his throat as he lays you down on the floor, and you would smack him for it if he hadn’t earned it. Instead, you grab him by the collar of his shirt a little rougher than mean to and drag him to your mouth, relishing in the high-pitched whine he admits at your light manhandling.

You moan at the taste of yourself on his lips, and Eddie can’t help grinding himself hard against your thigh in an attempt to relieve the pressure of his untouched arousal. This kiss is nasty—wet, gnashing, desperate. There’s no control to it on either end.

”That good, huh?” He mutters into your mouth. His voice is barely more than a whisper—you can’t expect much more when you’re kissing him the way you are, grinding your thigh against his aching cock all the while. And even still, despite his obvious desperation, he manages to be cocky about how hard he made you come.

If you weren’t head over heels for this man before, you certainly are now.

You start tugging at his belt and he chuckles, only growing more sure of himself by the second.

”Wait, baby, lemme take you to bed,” he huffs over the feeling of your hand finally sliding into his jeans where he needs you most.

It makes you gasp when you finally have him in the palm of your hand. As big as he felt through his jeans, nothing could’ve prepared you for this. He’s heavy, achingly thick, and you can feel the way he positively throbs in your grip.

And just as you’re about to agree and show him to your bedroom, you shake your head firmly; because as uncomfortable as this floor is going to feel and as much as your back is going to hate you for it later, you need him now. There’s no time for relocating; if he doesn’t give it to you right now, here in the middle of your living room floor, you think you might perish.

”Right here?” He hums as if he’s not affected at all while he slots himself between your legs. “On the floor? Can’t even wait thirty seconds to let me have you the right way? Dirty girl.”

It’s such a shift in dynamic; not an unwelcome one at all, certainly. But he’s been so shy and timid up until this point—always following your lead, blushing when his hand brushes against yours. You wonder if he’s like this with everyone—if he feels some pressure to perform an act or role, to hide his true personality.

The thought makes your chest ache a little bit, but you don’t have time to dwell on it because he’s breaking you in half. He’s so slow about it, too; barely pressing his tip into you, giving you time to adjust to every millimeter he gives you. Even still it punches the breath out of your lungs and makes your eyelids flutter at the intrusion.

”Shit.” It’s not spoken so much as whined, and suddenly you’re starkly aware of just how much you’re affecting him. You bite your lip to steady yourself so you can look up at him, and the sight alone is almost enough to unravel you. Unruly curls spill down over his shoulder and dangle in the air over you. His mouth hangs open—fast, shallow breaths make his bottom lip quiver. His pupils are so blown with desire you can barely see the warm chocolatey color of his irises.

You’re suddenly aware that in your desperation, you forgot a very important step. He’s still fully clothed—your legs rub against his t-shirt as his hands hook under your knees to spread you wider for him. You almost feel bad about it; in your haze of arousal his attention to your body has brought on, you’ve forgotten to be attentive to his. It pulls a whine from your lips as your hands unconsciously come to tug at the fabric.

He chuckles but acquiesces—not before you see a flicker of hesitation pass over his face.

It takes a moment to process what you’re looking at as he tugs his shirt over his head and tosses it to the side… and then your jaw drops. ”Shit, Eddie!”

He’s quick to quiet your exclamation with a heated kiss, unintentionally shoving himself that little bit deeper into your cunt. It distracts you, but only for a moment. Then you’re pushing yourself up onto your elbows, trying to wrap your mind around the myriad of deep, whitish-pink scars that litter his torso.

“Eddie, what—“

“Car accident,” he lies before he can think better of it. It’s a story he’s told so many times that he’s almost starting to believe it himself. “Couple years back.”

“Jesus,” you whisper as your fingers trace over the poorly healed lines.

“I know. They’re not pretty.”

That one sentence tells you everything you need to know. “It’s not that,” he assure him. “Just… a miracle you survived something that bad.”

“Yeah,” he hums. “I got lucky.”

He’s deflating a little bit, and the last thing you want him to do is lose that confidence he’s been exuding. You wrap your arms around your neck and pulls him flush against you, feeling every warm inch of his torso against yours as your tongue tangles with his.

“You’re beautiful,” you tell him again. And you mean it.

He draws a gasp from your lips when he presses even closer, every inch of his body covering yours and his length shoved all the way into your needy cunt. It’s almost too much for him—the combination of your tight, wet heat around him; the adoration in your eyes as you look up at him like he’s some kind of god; your hands pulling him closer like you might evaporate if you can’t feel every inch of his body at all times. It’s a heady feeling he’s never experienced before, being wanted this badly. It nearly unravels him—especially when you start bucking your hips up to him in search of the friction you so desperately need.

He sees your need, and it pulls him back into his dutiful role. “I’ve got you, baby.”

He starts with deep, slow thrusts that nearly make you drool—you feel the drag of every single inch against your walls, every vein and ridge and contour. It’s like you’re memorizing the shape of him from the inside out.

One ringed hand slides down your hip and along the length of your thigh to hook beneath your knee, hitching your leg up as high as he comfortably can to spread you wide open for the taking.

You get barely a moment's notice as he draws himself almost all the way out. And then he slams himself back into place—deep, hard, unrelenting. He revels in the sound it draws from you, something between a cry and a plea for more; he silently vows to himself that those little pleasures sounds are going to be all you’re capable of making by the time he’s done with you.

It’s borderline violent, the way he fucks you. His thrusts are relentless and expert in a way you didn’t expect him to be. His lips hardly leave your skin, muffling his moans into hickies and bruises on your neck and chest. His hands grip hard to your body, marks blossoming beneath his fingertips.

You’ve never fallen apart so easily.

“That’s it,” he purrs into your ear as he feels your walls fluttering around him. “Don’t hold back, lemme have it. Please, baby.”

And really, it would be rude to deny him after he’s asked so nicely.

Your orgasm comes like shattered glass. The sound is the first thing you process—your moans drowning out his steady grunts. And then it’s sharp. It drives its shards into your and makes you flinch away from the sensation, so pleasurable it’s almost painful.

You’ve never come just from being fucked before. Sweet, wonderful Eddie carries on working towards his own release like he doesn’t deserve a goddamned award.

“Can I…”

But you’re already nodding, wrapping your legs around his waist and coaxing him deeper—urging him to make a home in the deepest part of you.

He’s not a man who needs to be told twice. He rocks his hips as deep as he can and then presses even closer, the head of him bruising your cervix as he falls apart. And maybe it shouldn’t feel as good as it does, the sensation of him painting your walls with rope after rope or warm, sticky release; but you’re not in the mind to psychoanalyze yourself right now. Instead you do your best to help him through it, lightly ghosting the tips of your fingers in soothing patterns on his back as he pants and shudders.

“Holy…”

“Yeah,” you giggle.

It takes him a few minutes to summon the courage he needs to pull his softening length from your warmth, and he bites down on his lip nearly hard enough to draw blood when he sees the absolute mess that slides down the curve of your ass.

”Jesus H. Christ,” he murmurs. His fingers come to swipe up some of the combined cum before he can stop himself, pushing it back into where he’d spilled it to begin with and relishing in the moan you afford him at the feeling of his thick fingers pressing into your over-sensitive entrance.

He’s so thoroughly enraptured with the sight before him. Your cunt squeezing so tightly around his fingers, cum dripping, desperate to reject due to the overstimulation. And yet you take it without flinching, chest heaving, head falling back against the hardwood floor.

He swipes his thumb over your clit so lightly and yet it still makes you squeeze like a vice around him, and so he does it again. He curls his fingers in search of that spot that made you fall apart so prettily on his cock, and once he finds it he doesn’t relent. That, combined with the light pressure on your clit, is more than enough.

Your thighs tremble, caught indecisively between spreading further open for him and clamping shut on his cum-slicked hand. He watches in awe as your lips part in a silent scream, ass arching up off the floor; and then, as you come down, you have to push him away because it’s finally too much.

”Fuck,” you whimper—he coos so reassuringly as he leans down to gently kiss your lips, errant curls brushing and tickling against your cheeks.

”I know, baby,” he whispers. “God, you’re incredible. Did so good f’me.”

You have to stay still for a moment—let his sweet, gentle kisses bring you back down from the clouds. And then you’re aware of the ache in your back and the absolute puddle forming under your ass, and you push yourself up with a weak groan.

”M’sorry,” he winces in sympathy. “Bed next time, I promise.”

And really, the promise of there being a next time shouldn’t make your heart skip a beat the way it does.

You’re worried things’ll be awkward now, but that’s the furthest thing from the truth. Working with him now is so much more effortless. The tension isn’t as palpable—it’s a fluid thing that you move through confidently now that your feelings and his are known. He isn’t afraid to watch you anymore, awe and adoration in his eyes as you show him how to reassemble the engine block. He observes your skilled fingers at work, and he’s not afraid to tell you how fucking sexy it is to him. He’s not afraid to rest a hand on the small of your back as he stands beside you, even occasionally getting brave enough to let it slip down and cup your ass. He’s not afraid to be his goofy, adorable, manic self—it’s the best metamorphosis you’ve ever seen.

You finish working on his van finally, and he almost tears up at how well she runs now—although he definitely doesn’t let you see that.

And as worried as you were that finishing this job would feel like the end of whatever this is with Eddie, it doesn’t. You feel secure, somehow, that he’ll keep coming back—for more than just parts and labor.

THE END

➔ A/N: thank you as always to @shakespeareanwannabe for putting up with my incessant questions and beta requests 🥹 ily lots

➔ Want to see more from me in the future? Follow @freelancearsonist-updates and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post new fics!

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#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson one shot #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things smut #stranger things one shot #cece writes

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lendeah · 3 months

Text

The currents of destiny

Chapter 1: The present.

Requested by @tinystarfishgalaxy! Thank you very much🤍🫶🏻

Summary: "I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming." Astarion's life takes a dark turn following his encounter with Cazador, as his lover Tav refuses to help him ascend. Left to face the aftermath of his choices, Astarion seeks understanding in his new reality. In his search for answers, he meets a seer named G'axir, who offers him glimpses into three different paths his life could take: his future as an Ascended Vampire, his future alone, and a future next to Tav. Now, Astarion must decide which path to follow before it's too late. Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader. Word Count: 2.9k Tags: Heavy Angst, Psychological Trauma, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Psychological Torture (kind of), Emotional Manipulation, Verbal Abuse, but just chapter 2, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending.

Next chapter ->

[AO3 Link]

The air reeks of death and blood, the stench heavy and suffocating. Cazador's lifeless body lies in a pool of his own blood, a gruesome sight that only fuels Astarion's anger. His entire body trembles with rage, years of pent-up frustration boiling over.

He had lost everything - the chance to turn the ritual and become the most powerful Vampire, the chance to get back all he lost, the chance to be completely free.

And it was all because of her.

"Astarion?" Her voice quivers with fear as she approaches him cautiously. Turning to face her, his once handsome features contort into a twisted mask of fury.

"You," he growls, his voice dripping with venom. "You betrayed me."

Her body recoils at his accusation, but he pays no mind. The only thing he can see is red, consumed by a blazing fire of betrayal and pain.

"I only wanted what was best for you," she pleads, tears welling in her eyes.

"You had no right!" he bellows, making her flinch again. "This was my last chance!"

"Do you think I wanted to do this?" she cries, her voice breaking. "I did it for you, Astarion. It would have turned you into the very thing you despise."

His lips curl into a sneer and his fangs glint in the dim light. "Oh, spare me your platitudes," he scoffs. "You always did have a way with words, didn't you? You professed your love for me, claiming that my happiness was all you desired and that you would do anything to ensure it. Well, congratulations, now you've sealed my fate with disgrace."

The pain in her eyes fuels Astarion's anger even more.

"Please Astarion. I didn't mean..." she pleads desperately.

"But you did it," he seethes, baring his sharp fangs in anger. "You've taken everything from me."

"Please, let's go home," she begs, tears streaming down her face. "We can figure out a way together."

"Home?" Astarion laughs bitterly. "I have no home anymore."

She flinches at his words and takes a step back, fear evident in her eyes. The pain cut deep in his heart, leaving behind an irreparable wound. How could he have been so naive? To blindly put his trust in someone who would turn their back on him in his darkest hour? The realization hits him like a ton of bricks, shattering the remains of his shattered heart into dust.

"I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming," he spits before walking away, leaving her behind in a pool of regrets and broken promises. He could hear her heart-wrenching cries as he left, but the anger and pain inside of him only led him further away from her.

The moon cast a faint glow over the dark streets of the city as Astarion walked, his mind consumed with seething anger. The sound of his own footsteps echoed through the empty alleyways, mingling with the distant chatter of late-night revelers. People turned to look at him, their gazes lingering on the blood stains that still marred his body. He couldn't bring himself to care, his thoughts completely fixated on the scene that had played out in front of him. He didn't even know how long he had been wandering for, only that the night was growing darker and colder. He had no destination in mind, his feet taking him wherever they pleased as he tried to make sense of what had happened.

Over and over again it replayed in his mind; the knife plunging into Cazador's chest, the man's pained cries echoing in the stone walls of the basement, and the remaining silence after his lifeless body hit the floor. With each repetition, Astarion's anger only grew. How dare he make him feel 200 years of torture, only to feel a mere minute of pain before dying? It wasn't fair. He deserved to feel the pain tenfold, to suffer for eternity just as Astarion had.

As he made his way down the street, his mind couldn't help but drift to Tav. The mere thought of her brought a mix of emotions - anger, hurt, and longing. She had betrayed him, yet her words still echoed in his head, pleading for him to understand. He couldn't deny the love he had once felt for her, but he also couldn't shake the pain she had caused him. Was it all truly for his sake?

Finally reaching a secluded spot on the beach, he sank down onto the sand. It hit him suddenly - he was truly alone once more. There was no one to lean on, no one who could truly understand and accept him for who he was. But he didn't want anyone either. People were fickle creatures; they could betray you in an instant without a second thought.

The waves crashed against the shore, a soothing rhythm that did little to calm Astarion's racing thoughts. He let out a scream of frustration as he punched the sand beneath him. His knuckles burned with pain, but it was nothing compared to the searing rage consuming him. With a groan of agony, Astarion let himself fall back onto the sand. The cold grains offered no comfort as he lay there staring up at the dark sky above. The stars seemed to taunt him with their twinkling, a reminder that he was completely and utterly alone in this vast, uncaring universe.

And then, as if on queue, a figure appeared in his peripheral vision. Astarion's head snapped to the side, his eyes locking onto the man who had suddenly appeared beside him. The moonlight revealed the wrinkles on his face, adding depth and shadow to his features. His long white hair flowed from underneath a robe that reached down to his feet, and in his hand, he held a staff. He exuded an aura of wisdom and age.

Astarion sat up, his hand instinctively reaching for a dagger that wasn't there. Of course he had left his weapons behind. He eyed the stranger warily, his anger still simmering beneath the surface.

"Who are you?" Astarion asked.

"I am recognized by myriad titles... yet for you... 'G'axir' will suffice," the old man replied with a gentle smile. "I have observed your journey... for quite a while"

He narrowed his eyes, wondering if this was some kind of trap. He had learned the hard way to trust no one, especially not strangers who appeared out of nowhere in the dead of night.

"Watching me?"

G'axir nodded. "Your destiny is ensnared in shadows... since you first rose from your grave."

Astarion felt a chill run down his spine. How could this stranger possibly know anything about his past?

"I'm afraid I have little patience for riddles tonight," Astarion said as he stood up and brushed off the sand from his clothes. "I'll be on my way now."

But as he turned to leave, G'axir quickly reached out to grab Astarion's arm. What in the sweet hells?

"You... are a light entering darkness. You... are a seeker of truths. You... are more than you realize," G'axir replied cryptically. "The Seer has spoken it because the Seer knows the fear you harbor."

Astarion's mind raced as he tried to make sense of the old man's words. How could he have secrets buried within himself? He thought he knew himself well enough, especially after living for 200 years.

Astarion couldn't help but roll his eyes in disbelief. "Oh, stop with the theatrics, I don't have any spare money, if that's what you are seeking."

G'axir shook his head. "Your life... is in the balance. Act wisely, act judiciously..."

Astarion yanked his arm away from the old man's grasp. "Must we continue with this tiresome charade? State your purpose and leave me be," he demanded, his voice shaking with fury.

G'axir's expression remained calm and serene, unfazed by Astarion's outburst. "I stand as your guide... offering wisdom to illuminate your path and aid you on your journey..."

Astarion scoffed, his usual sarcastic wit dripping from every word. "Please, I'm perfectly capable of navigating this world on my own. No need for any pesky guidance or assistance," he declared with a sour grin. "I've already had my fill of unwanted help today, thank you very much."

"The path ahead of you... is treacherous and filled with darkness," G'axir said solemnly.

Astarion scoffed. "Well, I've been living in the darkness for 200 years. I can handle it."

"But... can you handle the light... that could await you?" G'axir asked.

Astarion raised an eyebrow at the old man's question. Handle the light? What did that even mean?

"What light?" Astarion asked skeptically.

"The light... of truth and understanding," G'axir replied enigmatically. Astarion felt a twinge of curiosity stir within him despite his reluctance to believe anything this old man said.

"Why should I trust you? You could be deceiving me in an attempt to abduct me, or something," Astarion said suspiciously.

G'axir nodded in understanding. "In the dance of shadows where deceit finds solace, one who has waltzed through its embrace grows cautious of fellow wanderers. Yet, heed my words — I harbor no malevolent intentions directed toward you."

Astarion warily watched G'axir, but as the old man's gentle gaze met his own, he felt himself start to relax. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something about G'axir that made him feel safe and at ease. It was almost like an aura surrounding him that emitted a sense of calmness.

A moment of silence passed between them before Astarion finally spoke up again.

"So what now? Are we having a psychic reading? Should I start handing over my palm and tea leaves for you to predict my future?"

"I do not need a crystal ball to see your future... for it is already written in the stars."

Astarion raised an eyebrow. "The stars?"

G'axir's smile widened. "All things, including yourself... are interwoven within the fabric of the celestial bodies... that have perennially molded the contours of our destinies."

Astarion rolled his eyes, not wanting to entertain the idea that his fate was predetermined by some cosmic forces. "You're telling me that my entire life has been planned out for me?" he scoffed.

G'axir shook his head gently. "Your will remains untethered, and the ability to sculpt your own fate lies within your grasp... The stars merely cast their luminous gaze, imparting guidance... and revealing glimpses of the myriad possibilities that unfold before you."

Astarion mulled over G'axir's words, unsure of whether he believed in them or not. However, he couldn't deny the feeling of intrigue and curiosity that continued to grow within him.

"Let's say I entertain this absurd idea for a moment," Astarion said skeptically. "What do the stars have to say about my bright, shining future?"

"Lay down... Let the whispers of the universe... respond to the questions lingering... in the silence of the night."

Astarion hesitated for a moment before laying down on the ground, looking up at the sky above, where the stars seemed to be laughing at him.

"Shut your eyes and... attune your senses... to the rhythmic cadence of your breath," G'axir instructed, his voice calm and soothing.

Astarion did as he was told, taking deep breaths and attempting to clear his mind. He could hear G'axir's soft chanting in the background, lulling him into a state of relaxation.

As he focused on his breathing, he could feel his body levitating, as if he were leaving this reality. When Astarion opened his eyes again, he found himself floating in the vast expanse of darkness and stars. Panic gripped his chest as he struggled to understand what was happening.

"What is this? Where am I?" Astarion yelled, his voice echoing into the void.

"You are in the realm between consciousness and the stars," G'axir's voice answered calmly.

Astarion turned around and saw G'axir floating next to him. He was still chanting softly, his eyes closed in concentration.

"This is impossible!" Astarion exclaimed, feeling a mix of fear and awe.

Astarion looked around, taking in the breathtaking sight of millions of stars twinkling in the void. He couldn't believe that he was actually flying among them.

"Is this real or just an illusion?" he asked, still not fully trusting G'axir's words.

"It is as real as you want it to be," G'axir replied cryptically.

G'axir's chanting grew louder as he reached out and took Astarion's hand. "There are cities below cities, dreams beneath dreams, the present laying buried beneath the crushing weight of the future... let me show you..."

As their surroundings blurred and twisted, the sky seemed to distort itself and reveal...the Elfsong tavern?

The image of the place had a hazy quality, as if they were viewing it through a smudged window.

"What are we doing here?" Astarion asked, but when he turned to see G'axir, the man was gone.

He was in the middle of the place, so familiar after the many days and nights spent here with his companions. The sound of merry chatter and clinking glasses filled the air, along with the tantalizing aroma of hearty meals being cooked. Astarion stood in the middle of the bar, his heart pounding with confusion and fear.

G'axir's words echoed in his mind... "the present lying buried beneath the crushing weight of the future." Was this a glimpse of the future? Of the present? Or maybe just an illusion?

If this was a glimpse into the present, then his companions had to be... Astarion's heart raced as he quickly climbed the stairs to the grand bedroom where they had been living for the past few weeks. When he reached the top, he burst into the room.Astarion could see his companions huddled together in a corner, but they showed no signs of seeing or hearing him. As he observed them, an overwhelming sense of dread filled his stomach. Familiar faces surrounded him: Halsin, Gale, Wyll, Yaheira, and Lae'zel. They stood in a circle, their expressions serious as they whispered amongst themselves. But one person was missing - Tav. He tried to call out to them, but his voice was nonexistent. It slowly dawned on him that he wasn't actually present in this moment, at least not physically. His spirit had been transported to this place, a mere observer in a realm beyond the physical world.

Suddenly, he spotted a figure huddled separately from the group. His heart rattled in his ribcage as he realized. "Tav?"

Her hair fell like a curtain around her face, obscuring what he could see of her expression. But it was unmistakable - the once fiery and headstrong leader was now slumped onto the cold ground, whimpering into her hands. Underneath a velvet curtain in a darkened corner of the room, she sat, knees drawn up to her chest, tears streaming down her face. Next to her Shadowheart was attempting to offer consolation through soft words.

Even though Astarion couldn't hear what she whispered to Tav, he saw her hand reach out to comfort the devastated woman. But Tav recoiled from her touch like it was a burning ember.

"Maybe if I had done it he wouldn't have left," Tav was whispering between sobs.

"You know that would have killed him on the long run! We did what had to be done to protect him and you know it."

"No, no..." he muttered, "this can't be..."

Astarion felt his own heart shatter at the sight. He took a step towards them but stopped himself, remembering the impossibility of the situation. He couldn't touch her, couldn't comfort her.

"Do you think he meant it?" Tav said, suddenly.

"What do you mean?"

"That he hopes I die screaming." Tav's voice cracked as tears threatened to spill from her eyes once again.

Shadowheart's surprised eyes met hers. "He didn't mean it, Tav... You know how Astarion gets when he's upset."

But Tav shook her head, her face drained of color and desperation evident in her tone. "He meant every word," she whispered, barely audible. "I could see it in his eyes." After a shaky breath, she added with a hint of resignation, "And part of me wishes I would too."

Each word she spoke felt like a physical blow, causing Astarion's chest to tighten and his heart to ache. He watched helplessly as her voice cracked with resignation, her head dropping onto his shirt in defeat. His shirt. Shit.

"No, please..." he pleaded. But it was too late, the damage had been done.

Astarion's heart ached at her words, but he couldn't deny the truth in them. He had said some unforgivable things to Tav in the heat of the moment, fueled by anger and hurt. Deep down, a part of him had wished for her to suffer just as he was suffering. But seeing her like this, broken and in pain, made him realize the gravity of his actions. He never wanted for her to actually die. Hells, he was so deeply in love with her that the mere thought of anything happening to her was unbearable.

He took a step closer, wanting to comfort her somehow. But he was trapped in this surreal vision, unable to reach out and mend the shattered pieces of their relationship.

Slowly, the vision began to fade, the colors blurring into the darkness. Astarion felt himself growing lighter, pulled back from the vision.

"No, wait! Tav!"

The Elfsong tavern phased out and he was back in the expanse of starry darkness. His heart pounded in his chest as he processed what he had just witnessed. He wanted to go back, to somehow fix the damage he had caused.

Suddenly, a figure appeared before him in a flash of light. It was G'axir.

"You," Astarion growled as he stepped forward aggressively, "What have you done? Bring me back!"

G'axir held up a hand placatingly. "You have glimpsed... into the unfolding tapestry of the now" G'axir stated cryptically "Behold... now your vision shall traverse the myriad paths of potential futures."

Next chapter ->

#astarion ancunin #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #baldurs gate fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 #astarion baldurs gate #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #fanfic #astarion x you

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victoryverse · 4 months

Text

fixating

SMUT, 18+ only, simon x female reader, p in v sex, oral (m receiving), breeding, dirty talk

words: 1k

◇◇◇◇◇

As the full moon hung high in the night sky, Simon Ghost Riley stood in front of me. His dark, haunting eyes were fixated on me as he slowly made his way towards me. I couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and fear as I had awaited his arrival.

He stopped in front of me and I could feel the heat radiating off his body. Without a word, he pulled me close to him and claimed my lips in a fierce, possessive kiss. I melted into his embrace, my body already aching for him.

His hands roamed over my body, caressing every inch of skin. I moaned as he traced his fingers down my neck and to the swell of my breasts. Ghost took this as a sign of permission and began to strip me of my clothes, leaving me bare and vulnerable in front of him.

With a smirk, he discarded his own clothing and pressed his hard, muscled body against mine. I could feel his arousal pressed against my stomach and I couldn't help but crave more of him.

Without warning, Ghost lifted me up and carried me to the nearest surface, a rough wooden table. He laid me down on my back and spread my legs, exposing my wet, glistening center to him. I could feel his hot breath on my skin as he leaned in to taste me.

He trailed his tongue up my inner thigh, teasing me with soft kisses and licks. My body was on fire, begging for more of him. Ghost seemed to sense this and delved his tongue inside me, taking me to new heights of pleasure.

I arched my back and moaned his name as he expertly worked his mouth over my sensitive core. I could tell he was enjoying every moment, savoring the taste of me. And just as I was on the verge of climax, he stopped.

I whimpered at the loss of contact, but Ghost just smirked down at me. 'You're not getting off that easily, my little slut,' he growled. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks at his words, but I couldn't deny the exhilaration I felt.

Ghost stood up and positioned himself between my legs, his hard length hovering over me. He looked down at me with a predatory glint in his eyes. 'You want this? You want me to fuck you until you can't walk?' he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

'Yes, please,' I begged, my body trembling with anticipation.

'Good girl,' Ghost purred as he pushed himself inside me in one smooth motion. I cried out at the feeling of being filled by him, and Ghost let out a low moan in response.

He began to move, thrusting into me with force and precision. I could feel the table creaking beneath us, but all I could focus on was the intense pleasure coursing through my body. Ghost's hands were on my hips, holding me in place as he pounded into me.

'God, you feel so fucking good,' he groaned, his voice dripping with desire.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside me. Ghost's pace increased, his thrusts becoming more urgent and desperate. I could feel my orgasm building, and I knew Ghost was close too.

'Come for me, baby,' he growled, and with his dirty words ringing in my ears, I let go. We both reached our peak at the same time, our bodies trembling in ecstasy.

Ghost collapsed on top of me, both of us panting and sweating. I could feel his heart pounding against my chest as he caught his breath.

'That was just the beginning,' Ghost whispered in my ear, making me shiver with anticipation.

He pulled out of me and helped me off the table. I could see the hunger in his eyes as he led me to the nearest wall. He turned me around and pushed me against it, his hands gripping my hips tightly.

'Are you ready for more, my little fucktoy?' he asked, his voice filled with lust.

I moaned in response, unable to form any words as I felt Ghost's length pressing against me again. He thrust into me from behind, his hands roaming over my body and his lips finding my neck.

I could barely keep up with his pace as he fucked me relentlessly against the wall. The sound of our bodies slapping together mixed with our moans and dirty talk created a symphony of pleasure.

'You like it rough, don't you? You love it when I take control and use you,' Ghost grunted, his words igniting a fire within me.

'Yes, harder,' I moaned, pushing back against him.

Ghost complied and increased his pace and force, his grip on my hips becoming almost bruising. With one hand, he reached around and began to rub my clit, sending me over the edge once again.

I screamed his name as my body spasmed in orgasm. Ghost's own release soon followed, and we both collapsed to the ground, completely spent.

But Ghost wasn't done with me yet. He pulled me up and led me to the bed, where he made me kneel at the edge. He positioned himself in front of me, his hard length just inches away from my lips.

'Suck my cock, baby,' he commanded, and I eagerly obliged. I took him in my mouth, bobbing my head up and down and swirling my tongue around him.

Ghost's moans became louder and more frequent as I pleasured him. I could feel him getting closer and closer to the edge, and before I knew it, he was coming in my mouth.

I swallowed every drop, savoring the taste of him. Ghost pulled me up and kissed me, sharing the remnants of his pleasure with me.

'You've been such a good girl for me,' he said, his voice softening.

I smiled up at him, feeling completely satisfied. But Ghost wasn't finished yet. He laid me down on the bed and spread my legs, ready to claim me again.

'I'm going to breed you,' he whispered as he positioned himself at my entrance.

And just like that, Ghost took me to new heights of pleasure once again. He filled me up and claimed me as his own, leaving no doubt that I was completely his.

We spent the rest of the night in a frenzy of passion and desire, with Ghost exploring every inch of my body and leaving me completely breathless. And as the first rays of sunlight peeked through the windows, we finally collapsed in each other's arms, completely and utterly spent.

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all likes, reblog and feedback is welcome! requests are open here

#call of duty #call of duty smut #call of duty x reader #cod #cod smut #ghost cod #ghost fanfic #ghost fanfiction #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #cod simon ghost riley #cod simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley

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realisticjupiter · 1 month

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haihaii!! your profile has been like.... THERAPY to me bc the aib fixation is back AND ITS STRONG ESPECIALLY TOWARDS CHISHIYA 💔💔💔 i love the way u write as well !!

so with this could i request a touch starved chishiya... like a chishiya that needs readers attention so bad but is too embarrassed to downright tell them "I WANT CUDDLES" or smth... still he does everything in his power to get readers attention atp the only thing left is to just BEG

also could i be 🎶 anon ? i picture myself being very active here from now on... have a nice day!!

Summary: Chishiya can't sleep without you.

Genre: Fluffy

Pairing: Chishiya x gn!reader

Warnings: None! :)

Word count: 784

a/n: Aghhhh i hope this is okay!!!!! That is actually so sweet of you, I'm so glad you've liked my account!!!<3 And ofc you can claim an emoji, hello 🎶!!

Chishiya tried everything to get you into bed with him. He tried seducing you, gaslighting you, and of course his manipulation tactics didn't work either.

All you were focused on was trying to fix the phone from last night's game. It was still on, so you thought it would be easier to get into before it powered off.

Every time he'd call your name, you'd brush him off. Mostly because he always used a certain tone of voice you've become far too familiar with when he tries to get what he wants.

All he wanted to do was kneel at your feet to tell you exactly what he wanted. To tell you he just wanted you to hold him, to tell you all he needed was your attention.

But he couldn't. He never has been able to ask for help, or ask for anything without feeling vulnerable for that matter. He was closed off, that's what people knew about him; that he didn't show those types of emotions in fear of being belittled.

Chishiya could feel his eyelids getting heavy and his eyes burning from keeping them open, but he knew no matter how hard he would toss and turn; he wouldn't be able to sleep without you.

It was pathetic, he'd admit that. It was a loop he found himself getting stuck into, and found there was no way out of it. He hid it pretty well, though. Through late nights where you'd fall asleep alone and wake up to him beside you. You truly had no idea he struggled so much.

He was so tired. He'd do anything if you'd just stop and sleep already.

And he found his last option, the one thing he dreaded the most.

"Y/n?" Chishiya whispered, his voice husky as he climbed out of bed and walked towards you with slow steps.

"What?" You hummed in response, never peeling your eyes away from the task at hand.

"Please," He spoke underneath his breath in an almost incoherent whisper as he stopped to stand beside the chair you sat in.

"I don't know what you want, Chishiya. No one is keeping you awake." You sighed, watching from the corner of your eye as he stood by your side, rubbing his eyes with his palms.

"You're keeping me awake." He murmured, watching your hands as they played around with the device's motherboard.

"How?" You said in defeat, finally turning your attention to him. You looked up at him with your hands thrown in your lap, clearly waiting for his response.

He let out a huff as he looked around the room; avoiding eye contact. When he finally looked at you, his eyes were soft and glassed over.

His next sentence was incoherent.

"What?"

[inaudible]

"Chishiya. Speak up, please." Your words were soft as you stood up from your seat, placing your hands on his upper arms.

"I can't sleep without you." He finally spoke, his words finally registering in your mind.

When he realized you had finally heard him, he felt like he could say anything. And with his new found confidence he continued to speak.

"Why is it so hard to ask you to touch me?" He breathed, letting his head fall onto your shoulder.

You smiled at his soft demeanour. You knew how hard it must've been for him to admit something so close to himself, especially since it was about you. You've found a new side of Chishiya you haven't seen before.

You brought a hand to comb through his hair as the other scratched up and down his bare back, "I'm sorry, Chishiya. I should've just read your mind." You whispered against his shoulder as you held him close to your body.

Your words were an obvious tease, trying to humor the situation at hand. Which did make Chishiya snicker.

"You should have. You've always been able to." He muttered, wrapping his arms lazily around you.

You smiled warmly as he spoke, pulling away to drag his hand towards the bed. You climbed in with him closely behind you. He waited for you to get comfortable, before he joined you under the covers to tangle his limbs with yours.

"I'm proud of you, Chishiya." Your sultry breath hit his forehead as you mumbled against his skin.

He stared down at the way your bodies fit together, processing your words with a smile he knew you couldn't see.

"Now go to sleep, 'm here." You spoke once more into his skin, kissing his forehead and massaging your fingers into his scalp.

His cold fingers danced around your bare skin, trying to bring himself impossibly closer to you before his body fell limp into a night's sleep.

reposts and comments are appreciated <3

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ivesambrose · 4 months

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⚜️ 𝐉𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐀𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 ⚜️

December 31st,2023 - May 1st, 2024

These are based on Sidereal transits 💛

If you'd like an even more personalized reading in regards to this or anything else from my list of services DM or email me with your query at [email protected]

Services offered

Client Testimonials & Feedback

Thank you for the tip 🌹

Picture 1

You'll feel more decisive about your goals and your life and actively move forward in regards to it whether you have a plan or not you are aware that even if you take one step in regards to your desires every single day, even if it's a change of lifestyle, habit or mindset, they will all up.

You may have felt rejected or feared rejection in the past that has made you question your self worth immensely, it has made you shut down that tender part of you, it only comes out when you're by yourself or the few people you know and trust. You'll be slowly letting go of that wound of feeling rejected, unseen and unheard. You may be drawn more towards your faith at this time but it won't be a surface level thing, you might want to learn more, pray more or do more devotional acts as you'll realize that a lot of your prayers are being answered.

You're no longer the damsel in distress or someone who can be easily taken advantage of either. You'll likely attract a few people who are a bit obsessively drawn to you, some may have good intentions but others would want to control you or have ulterior motives, so please use your best judgement and listen to your gut.

You'll likely become more social, recognised for your words or the way you express yourself or teach things which make others feel comforted and heard. You might also begin expressing yourself in the form of writing, singing, photography, vlogging etc

You'll want to indulge in the luxuries life has to offer even more. There is also possibility of travel within the country for starters and a lot of back and forth.

Be more protective of your energy as well otherwise you'll feel moody and depleted.

Picture 2

You might feel like you're in the spotlight or you'll be fixating on the bigger picture of something and nothing else. A path you had chosen months back has led you to where you are right now, good or bad, you'll make peace with it once you realize that it's on you to change your direction or do what's need to be done to steer your life in the right direction. There's a sense of enlightenment that will feel very personal and spiritual to you, it will lead you to drop the act you had been partaking in for long.

You may have rejected help and guidance in the past that may have come to bite you and kept you in the same cycle, you'll feel inclined to revisit the guidance and break free from this chain.

Some of you might find a home, change homes, start working from home or finally feel at home where you can drop your mask and finally be yourself.

You'll stop being double minded and finally see yourself blooming in different areas of your life be it studies or career or both. Like minded people will come to you. You might find love but some of you might let go of it as it could feel suffocating or restricting, you will feel sorrow but I also see you being held by someone either a friend or a new lover when this happens. Your needs will be mer regardless.

You'll be aggresive in your pursuits and some of you might finally step into the shoes of being a leader instead of following orders. You'll find your people and may also go to different festivals, fairs, exhibitions etc

Avoid overly physically exherting yourself and spicy food, Avoid lashing out at people. Stay hydrated aswell.

Picture 3

Too many choices in love, studies, career direction, hobbies etc you might feel a bit overwhelmed at first since the energy might feel scattered, so you'll proceed to expressing yourself more creatively and openly because of your new found confidence in your body and enthusiasm towards life. A lot of your creativity will come via your dreams, or engaging in fantasy literature and media or meditating or simply day dreaming.

Your creativity as well as beauty will draw in more career opportunities as well networking with people. You will also be actively addressing the ways you engage in self sabotage and it will be your responsibility to work through the same.

You'll be blessed with a wish or a couple of them being granted, you'll be in your receptive state. You might just accept the "delulu is the solulu" (I can't believe I typed that) saying or to put in better words, you'll simply allow your desires and dreams to manifest without you attaching conditions to it or thinking of the what ifs and how's etc

There will be deep transformation for you, big ones. Be it the way you look, dress, are living your life, your existing relationships, your job etc

You'll find unlikely resources or finances from unknown/hidden means or in form of inheritances.

You can look forward to a sense of peace you've been lacking. You might be prone to astral travel, intense dreams etc avoid or at least be mindful of recreational drug use or drinking, as well as water bodies.

Some of you might be traveling abroad for cultural exchange or studies or even for love. Do embrace the love that comes your way.

Picture 4

The courage and resources to get up and leave. Simply rising above something successfully no matter how weighed down you feel or have felt till now. You might also be juggling multiple things at this time (jobs, work and studies, hobbies, ideas, investments, applications etc) you'll find more balance somehow you'll also find clarity in your next steps.

You'll also be more assertive and stand up for yourself against someone who has held some form of power over you. You'll also realize that projecting omeone else's anger, mindset or bullying, towards yourself or others is not going to break the cycle. There is a theme of walking out, away and relocating heavily for you. But there is inevitable triumph in the path you're taking. Maybe in the past you've been procrastinating on it but that phase has come to an end.

A select few of you might also be going through your saturn return at this time so you might feel tested but you're simply having a period of shedding old skin and rising from the ashes of what was barren all along. You'll bring in more structure and discipline into your life in the process which in turn will reward you with joy and being content with your achievements instead of looking at your to do list for the next big thing.

Try engaging or creating things that make you feel light-hearted or entertained or it was something that was taught to you as a child, I feel you'll find the 'lost art' to something and recreate it.

Let yourself have fun and feel joy for what seems like the first time in your life. You'll realize life wasn't just unrewarded labour, that was an old way of being and you're stepping into a reality that feels a lot more comforting and compassionate than the one you're leaving behind.

#tarot community #divination community #pick a card #sidereal astrology #Jupiter in aries #Jupiter direct #Jupiter direct in aries #psychic readings #channeled message #pac #pick a pile #pick a photo

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astroa3h · 4 months

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the shadow side of juno ✨💔

Does your Juno placement have hard aspects? You could be dealing with the shadow side of Juno, where all that glitters isn't gold. For years I wondered why things didn't work out with my astrological soulmate, why things turned so sour? 😪

The further I studied my placement the further I realised I was dealing with the shadow side of Juno. A wolf in sheeps clothing. A faux soulmate so to speak. Look toward your corresponding sign and stay away from anyone that gives off these red flags. They are not your soulmate. ⬇️

Juno in Aries: Impulsive to a fault, your faux soulmate could be a ticking time bomb of anger and aggression. This is a love that can quickly spiral into a cycle of heated fights and reckless decisions. Their fiery nature can lead to dominance and ego battles, where love feels more like a war zone.

Juno in Taurus: Your faux soulmate might be the embodiment of stubbornness and material obsession. They can become so fixated on comfort and possessions that they suffocate the relationship. Their fear of change can lead to a stagnant, lifeless love, where both of you feel trapped in a golden cage.

Juno in Gemini: Charm morphs into manipulation. Your faux soulmate could be a master of words but a novice in honesty, leading you through a labyrinth of half-truths and flirtations. Their fear of depth can leave you feeling alone in a relationship filled with superficial connections and empty conversations.

Juno in Cancer: Overprotective to the point of being smothering, your faux soulmate might have a love that feels more like quicksand. Their emotional turbulence can create a stormy home life, where you feel constantly on edge, trying to navigate their unpredictable moods and possessiveness.

Juno in Leo: Your faux soulmate’s need for attention could eclipse everything, including you. Their pride and demand for admiration can lead to a one-sided relationship where your needs are overshadowed by their endless quest for the spotlight, leaving you in the shadows of their grandeur.

Juno in Virgo: Perfectionism turns into relentless criticism. Your faux soulmate’s desire for order can create an oppressive environment, where you feel constantly judged and never good enough. Their obsession with details can choke the spontaneity and joy out of your relationship.

Juno in Libra: Their need for harmony transforms into a paralyzing indecision and fear of confrontation. Your faux soulmate might avoid important issues, letting problems fester until the relationship is riddled with unspoken resentments and passive-aggressive behavior.

Juno in Scorpio: Here, love borders on obsession. Your faux soulmate’s intensity can manifest as jealousy, manipulation, and a desire for control that can feel suffocating. The relationship might often feel more like a power struggle than a partnership, filled with secrets and silent battles.

Juno in Sagittarius: Restlessness to the extreme. Your faux soulmate’s love for freedom can mean a refusal to commit, leaving you in a perpetual state of uncertainty. Their bluntness can be hurtful, and their constant need for new experiences can make you feel like you’re never enough.

Juno in Capricorn: Cold and authoritarian, your faux soulmate might prioritize status and success over the relationship. Their emotional unavailability and relentless ambition can leave you feeling lonely and undervalued, as if you’re more of a trophy than a partner.

Juno in Aquarius: Your faux soulmate’s unconventional nature can mean emotional detachment and a refusal to engage in the traditional aspects of a relationship. Their rebellious streak might make you feel like you’re living with a constant revolutionary, where intimacy takes a backseat to ideals.

Juno in Pisces: Escape turns to neglect. Your faux soulmate might retreat into a fantasy world, leaving you to deal with the harsh realities of life alone. Their tendency to play the martyr can lead to a relationship where you’re always the villain, no matter how hard you try. Yikes!

xox astro ash

Get your own Juno Soulmate Reading @ astroash.net

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#astrology #astrology readings #astrology aspects #natal chart #astrologer #juno #soulmate #soulmate reading #juno soulmate #love #marriage #twinflame #astro observations #astro notes #astro community #astrology blog #zodiac signs #daily astrology

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bucknastysbabe · 4 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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rookiesbookies · 4 months

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Greek God!Price x MaidenFem!Reader pt 2

Masterlist is pinned as always and please submit any requests to my inbox I dont bite

She had always been nervous around men, in her village they had always seemed rude and misogynist. Women were a commodity, their value based on purity and age. But Price was different. He treated her with respect and tenderness, making her feel safe and cherished. It was a new experience for her, and she couldn't help but feel nervous about it.

As she lay there, wide awake, she couldn't help but notice Price's movements in his sleep. He had gone from a respectful distance to spooning her side, his warm body pressed against hers. It was both comforting and unsettling at the same time.

She had agreed to spend the night in his bed, a decision that made her anxious. Changing in his master bathroom, she had put on one of his white undershirts that barely covered her upper-mid thigh. She worried about him seeing her exposed, about her own vulnerability in this unfamiliar situation.

The clock on the wall ticked away, reminding her of the late hour. She shivered, feeling the coldness of the room seep into her bones. Despite Price's warm body heat and the thick blankets, she couldn't find comfort. Her mind was preoccupied with thoughts of her nipples showing through the shirt or the possibility of her underwear being revealed.

But amidst her restlessness, she couldn't help but appreciate Price's gentle and kind nature. It was a stark contrast to her past experiences with the men who had tried to court her - often older and looking for a young housewife to act as a slave due to their wealth. She found herself slowly letting go of her fears and embracing the unfamiliar warmth that he offered.

Price stood out among the men she had encountered. He possessed a genuine gentlemanly demeanor that made her wonder if all gods were like him.

As her mind aimlessly drifted, she couldn't help but become fixated on Price's physique. Questions began to swirl in her thoughts, particularly about what lay beneath that thick sweater he now slept in. Were his muscles well-defined, sculpted from hours of hard work and dedication? Or were they hidden beneath a layer of softness, adding a touch of comfort to his appearance? The curiosity grew stronger, fueling her imagination as she envisioned the possibilities. It was a tantalizing mystery, one that she couldn't help but ponder, wondering if one day she would have the chance to uncover the truth.

As her mind wandered, it delved even deeper into his physical attributes, specifically focusing on what he possessed between his legs. Questions arose about its thickness, length, girth, and whether it was thin or substantial. She pondered whether he preferred a clean-shaven look or if his hair was coarse yet well-maintained, similar to his facial hair. Curiosity arose about the presence of freckles and whether it leaned towards one direction or the other. She wondered if it was pale or tan, what color the tip was. These thoughts consumed her mind, leaving her with a multitude of unanswered questions.

Her cheeks flushed with warmth as she realized the direction her thoughts were taking. It felt criminal. It was inappropriate to think of a man in such a way, especially someone like Price who was so sweet and such a gentleman. She began to question her own feelings towards him, fearing that she might be falling for a man who deserved a woman equally as remarkable to be his eternal partner. She pondered the qualities that would make a woman worthy of Price's affection. Would she need to possess extraordinary beauty, intelligence, or perhaps a combination of both?

The weight of her own self-doubt began to settle upon her, as she questioned whether she could ever measure up to the standards she imagined Price had. Perhaps he was waiting for some magic spark to ignite, maybe Eros to strike them with arrows to let him know it was meant to be or a letter hand-written from Aphrodite or Hera with approval. Something he seemingly so desired based on his adamant refusal of the other sacrificial women he considered for brides. He even said it himself, he wanted someone closer to his physical age to keep for an eternity as a partner, not just a wife.

Lost in her thoughts, she yearned for a sign, a glimpse into Price's true nature. She longed to know if he was as extraordinary as he appeared, or if her infatuation was merely a figment of her imagination, the facade of a god. Only time would reveal the answers she sought, and until then, she would continue to question her own worthiness of a god like Price.

He shifted again in his sleep, pulling her closer. His beard tickling against her neck, he took a deep breath. She couldn't help but think about the advice her friends had given her as a teenager. They had told her that men could determine if they wanted to marry a girl by the end of their first date. As she lay there, she wondered if the dinner they had just shared counted as a date. Did it hold any significance or was it just a casual outing with his friends? Her mind raced as she rubbed her legs together and nervously bit her lip. Being in such close proximity with a man was a new experience for her.

Suddenly, he began to stir in his sleep, a soft grunt escaping his mouth. Startled, she realized he was awake. "Why aren't you asleep?" he questioned, his voice filled with curiosity. "Humans need a good deal of sleep compared to us gods."

Her heart skipped a beat as she tried to come up with a response. "I... I couldn't sleep," she stammered, her voice barely audible. "I guess I'm just not used to... this."

He looked at her intently, his eyes filled with understanding. "It's okay," he said softly, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind her ear. "We can take things slow. There's no rush."

As he held her close, she felt a warm and comforting feeling, giving her hope for a happy future. Could this amazing man be the one she would marry? And, by some lucky chance, did he really understand her deepest desires?

Finally, she drifted into a peaceful slumber, feeling a sense of tranquility and optimism. The man she had discovered, whom she might be falling in love with, had filled her heart with hope and affection. The thought of marrying him brought her immense joy and contentment. He was truly remarkable, and she could only wish that he felt the same way about her. Thankfully, it seemed like he did, and that realization filled her with even more happiness.

#cod x reader #call of duty #captain price #john price #captain johnathan price #john price x reader #captain john price #captain john price x reader #captain john price x female reader

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arabellasleopardcoat · 9 months

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Foresight (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: The only time modern reader actually uses her intuition and hits the nail right on the head.

Warnings: I barely know by now. Smut. Fingering. Oral sex (F receiving) Non-con/ Dub con. I mean, reader consents, but you have read this series. Pregnancy.

A/N: And… It’s a wrap, folks! My first series. Think of this as the epilogue. As always, you can shout at me in my asks.

Previous parts here.

There is a certain irony in this, you think. You were once someone of no importance in a world filled with millions of people. Then, you were a servant in the Middle Ages. Now, you are a Lady of a noble house, married to a Prince.

Yet, it’s the first time you are held in such a way. A slightly longer chain than the one for your wrists connects your ankles together. Despite being in one of the highest positions a woman could be in these times, you have never had less freedom.

Now it’s a new girl, delivering your food. No matter how hard you try, she never answers your questions about Mina or what is happening outside your rooms. You discover it is because she doesn’t have a tongue. And she is terrified of even looking at you, too. You wonder what Daemon has done to her.

Was she born like that? Did another Lord punish her? Or worse. Did Daemon take her tongue? Trying to guess what happened to her is good entertainment. Unfortunately, you soon realize it frightens her too much when you speak to her. You wouldn’t want to cause her a heart attack, and so, you have to quit it.

You feel like an asshole. But you are desperate for company, to get someone to speak to you. The hopelessness you first felt has started to feel much like realization. You are not leaving. You are stuck with Daemon.

To keep your mind occupied, you try to remember as many details of the time you are living in. You start with the cutting of tongues as your inspiration. Someone did something similar in the show. You didn’t pay as much attention to the story as you would have if you had known it was going to become your life.

But someone had. Surely. What was it, with Westeros, and the forceful taking of the organs? They cut hands, tongues, fingers, eyes. God.

If you remembered something else, it could be useful. Unfortunately for you, you had been too fixated on how hot some people looked to follow subplots. The exercise is useless, but you start writing what you can remember on parchments and hiding them from your captor.

You feel like you are going insane. The only thing you do is pace and read, pace and read, all day. Something is wrong with you. You feel strange, like you are wearing clothes a size too small. Uncomfortable. Cranky. Sensitive. Lonely.

You read once, that human beings have more needs than just eat, sleep and shelter. Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. People need to own things, they need friends and intimacy, they need purpose. Otherwise, bad things happen.

Oh, but what? Could all your symptoms be explained by it? If you had a phone, you could look it up. Hell, even if it was the sixties, you could search it in a book. Not in the Middle Ages. Or well, Westeros.

You long for Daemon’s company. He comes every afternoon and sits near the fireplace. You talk to him because there is nothing else to do. From time to time, you repeat that you are not a dreamer. He laughs.

“You wouldn’t be this perfect for me if you weren’t.”

He is very cultured, and interesting. It's something you are desperately attracted to. It’s not only that you are now in what it’s effectively solitary confinement, no. Deeper than that. Just like Rhea, Daemon is one of the few people in the Runestone that can read. His mind is more open, he is less superstitious. Talking to him makes you less lonely.

There is no way you can rationalize it, though. What you are doing is wrong. It’s a betrayal to Rhea, to someone you loved more than you could ever love him. But you are weak, too broken down by grief and fear to oppose him.

You need someone to tell you everything will be alright. And Daemon makes sure he is available for the job. He fights off your loneliness when you ask him to.

Sometimes, Daemon sits next to you on the bed and talks about Valyrian history or traditions. His tone is soft, and calming. His face lights up when you show an interest in the topic or ask questions that prove you are following his monologue. It’s like seeing an entirely different man.

Before, you would have resented being babied in the way you are. Daemon treats you as if you were a little girl, one he entertains with tales and praises when she is good. Now, you crave the comfort of it.

You still bathe together. Daemon never touches you, though. Not after the night you tried to escape. Sometimes, he just looks at you. You sit there, basking on the freedom of being able to move without the cuffs. You are no longer embarrassed of your nakedness.

The chains frightened you, at first. You are not stupid. You are married to him, in chains and in a room bare except for the bed. What else would you think, if not rape? But Daemon was smarter than that. Insidious. Slowly, he had been coaxing you to let him touch you. At first, you squirmed like your pants were on fire when his hands were on your skin. Then, you had slowly come to accept it as part of your routine. And lately, to crave it.

He had been conditioning into it, you are sure. First, the offers to tend to your wounds, then, massages to your sore ankles and wrists. It was a merely chemical thing, you tried reassuring yourself. Your brain had come to associate endorphins with his touch, and so, like an addict, you sought more.

But you knew, it was no long now before you weren’t able to resist him. It was not a thing of physical strength. He wasn’t going to grab you and force you down. No. It was more complex than that.

Daemon had acquired himself a dreamer, according to him. He was not keen on alienating you, but seducing you. He intended for you to be the one to come to him. Worst thing? You were so touch starved, and so lonely, it was working. Stockholm syndrome, surely.

The next chain would be a child. It was the obvious thing to do, to keep control over the Vale and you. You would never leave if you were pregnant. What would you do, in your world, with a child that could potentially tame dragons and whose legal existence you couldn’t prove? It would surely be too late for abortion, and most probably, time would have passed. How to explain your disappearance?

And of course, there is the fact that your body is rioting against your brain. No matter the phase of your cycle, you are perpetually horny. The smallest of touches or looks make your mind spiral, you daydream about sex and feel the urge to jump Daemon’s bones almost daily.

Maybe there is some truth to whatever they are serving you. The milk and wine are always laced with spices, to make you more agreeable to his advances. At first, you thought it was silly, but by your current state, they seem to be working. You are desperate to be able to masturbate. But bound hands are not particularly useful. Besides, you have an inkling that’s not really what you want.

Every night before bed, Daemon takes the cuffs off and lets you walk around your room. You make small laps around the room, sometimes he tries teaching you the dances people do at feasts. Then, he gets you ready for bed.

Daemon rubs salve into your wrists and ankles. You don't ask him, but you know it has to have some aphrodisiacs on it. When his hands touch your skin, it feels electric. You knew aphrodisiacs existed in your world, even if they were fickle and old wives tales. But in a world where there is magic and dragons? Why not?

Even if not, the whole thing is an assault on your senses. The room filled with incense and candles, the baths, the soft silky clothes. The silence. Usually, when people are not busy enough, they get horny, right?

Perhaps it's the mirror. There is one placed in your room for baths, once you are not on suicide watch. You see yourself for the first time in months, and nearly don’t recognize your reflection. Your hair is longer, falling messily down your back. The sheer shifts you wear, specially tailored for you, make you look put together and sensual.

Collarbones exposed, accentuated hips, bare arms. Botticelli’s Venus comes to life. The image arouses you. You feel naughty in all the right ways, sexy, desirable.

Each night, Daemon’s hands rub the salve slightly higher. You find yourself yearning for his touch, anticipating the moments you will get with him. He massages your calves. Your forearms. He kisses your shoulders. You mewl, desperate. But Daemon doesn't do anything.

You share secrets like they are oozing out of your pores. Aemond's birth. Criston Cole and Rhaenyra fucked. Lucerys. Joffrey. Harwin Strong. Alicent and the rat looking man. Daemon dutifully repeats them to Viserys.

Were you meant to feel this way? You had never expected it, not in a million years. It's like standing on the edge of a cliff. Any second now, and you could plummet down. But what a fall it would be.

Tonight, he is on his knees. Despite being in a dominant position, sitting on the edge of the bed, you don't feel powerful. Daemon has a way of entering a room and just making anyone else fade into the background. He overpowers anyone easily, by sheer presence alone.

Daemon grabs your ankle and gently rubs at it, spreading the salve. He has said he doesn't want you to scar, or hurt. But your newest cuffs have padded interiors, making this whole act pointless. Neither of you voices it.

You shiver. His hands massage your calves.

“Daemon.” The first mistake. You have never, not once, called out his name before. It comes out soft and whiny, in a sweet whisper.

“Should I stop, dreamer?” He gives you a coy look, as his fingers go higher and higher. Ankle, calf, back of the knee. His hands are warm against your skin. Daemon seems to have a fascination with touching you. He cannot keep his hands to himself, no matter how hard he tries.

You say nothing. Daemon kisses your ankle, then your leg. He mouths along your knee. You feel so aroused, you think you are about to pass out. You shouldn’t give in, you know, you know. But it’s the sweetest torture.

He stops right above your knee, looking at you with mischievous eyes. You pant, looking at him like you are about to murder him if he dares deny you now.

“My poor little dreamer, have I neglected you so?” Daemon smirks, and parts your legs, making room for himself. “Don’t worry, we will fix this right away.”

“Stop it.” You mutter, but before you can start explaining to him why this is a bad idea, you feel a sharp sting on your thigh. You moan, feeling utterly confused. In your aroused state, the sting of the bite feels almost pleasant.

“It doesn’t sound like you want me to stop.” Daemon soothes the hurt with his tongue. He looks hungry, pupils blown and hair mussed just so. “Besides, I have been very patient with you, have I not?” His fingers dig in more harshly. He is right, of course. He could have fucked you already if he wanted to. It's not like anyone would come to your defense.

“You have.” You agree, shakily. His tongue draws little ribbons over your inner thigh. You cannot stop moaning, for some reason. And you are no stranger to sex, not as Daemon thinks. You were not a virgin when you got here. Despite knowing this screams of consent issues and that he is trying to manipulate you, you cannot help it.

You wonder how Rhaenyra and Laena ever stood a chance, being mere girls when they met him. If everyone told you this was wrong, but the first time he touched you felt this pleasurable, would you believe it?

No. You are more than enough proof of it.

“I will make it good for you, little one.” He kisses higher, this time. Along the juncture where your leg meets your hip. “It's a kindness most wives don't get.”

“I know, but…” You stop talking and melt into a sight when he rubs a finger over your labia, spreading the wetness there. You know if you keep talking, he will be able to hear exactly how much his touch is affecting you.

“I just want to look at you. And kiss you a little.” Daemon says, and his tone leaves no room for argument. His hands rub soothingly along the outside of your thigh. “I won’t take your maidenhead… Yet.”

Maidenhead. What’s that supposed to mean? You try to remember, certain that you have heard it before. Rhea mentioned it? Or was it the girls? Maidens. They called maidens women who were virgins. God. He thinks you are still a virgin.

He won’t fuck you, tonight. You hope that his plans for just touching and kissing include an orgasm because you feel like you will go mad if you don’t come tonight.

You could tell him the truth. But what would you gain? Daemon only believes what pleases him. You have told him time and time again that you are not a dreamer. You even tried telling him you were from the future. His words still ring in your ears.

“A world where men and women are equal? And there are no Kings? Oh, my poor confused little thing. You have been reading too much again.”

So telling him would be no use. He might believe it another attempt at getting him to let you go. Or he might actually believe you and try to eviscerate any previous lover of yours. Or gauge their eyes out. Perhaps cut a hand. That’s who Daemon is at his core.

No, it’s better this way. Playing along will get him to be gentler, and he won’t even be able to tell the difference.

“Won’t it hurt?” You ask, and it comes out just the right amount of shy to be believable. It’s easy, leaning on the lingering fear of the fact that this is Daemon you will be going to bed with. Your body reacts to him like it has never reacted to another lover before, yet you shouldn’t be doing this. He is skilled at it. Whoever he was fucking before, she has trained him well.

But now that you have allowed yourself to think, your hesitance takes hold. This is wrong, in so many ways. You shouldn’t be doing this. Yet, you want him so much, you feel like you might burst into flames if you don’t get him right now.

The lure of the forbidden, in all its glory.

“Not tonight.” He kisses your inner thigh, open-mouthed. You tense in anticipation. Daemon can be giving when he wants to be.

“I don’t want it to hurt.” You close your legs, trapping his hand between them. Your lower lip lightly sticks out, playing the part of the disgruntled little girl.

Daemon chuckles. One of his fingers rubs teasingly over your clit. Being a brat always seems to rile him up, and you feel smug at knowing him so well.

Oh, god. What are you even doing? Are you seriously contemplating ways of manipulating him during sex? You shouldn't even be thinking of fucking him. It's disgusting.

It’s not. Not when Daemon’s hands are on your thighs, not when his lips are on your skin. You are just too needy for it. Too many nights have passed since the last time you had been touched in such a way.

His hands knead into your thighs. The touch is greedy, possessive. He makes a tsking sound, and rubs a tight little circle over your clit.

“I’ll warm you up to it. Don’t worry.”

“I don’t… We really shouldn’t…” You plead, weakly. You are trying hard not to succumb to the pleasure.

“Why not?” He asks, pressing his finger over your hole and making you nearly sob in pure neediness. He is not entering, just threatening with it. Both holding you in place and feeling you flutter around him.

Daemon waits for your response, but when you don’t answer as quickly as he hoped, he starts sucking a bruise on your inner thigh.

“Because it’s wrong! You killed Rhea. You have no morals. And… Besides, it’s not me. I don’t want it.” You try to scramble away, suddenly regaining your senses. It must be the oils. Or the food. Or whatever he puts into your wine.

“Oh?” Daemon presses your hips down with an arm, and rubs around your clit again. He makes a show of taking his fingers away from you and admiring them in the light. Your arousal shines on them, sticky wet. “If you don’t want it, why are you dripping all over the bed? What is it, if not arousal?”

“The oils! The incense!” You complain. His hand, soaked in your juices, comes to cup your face.

“Oh, sweetling, no.” Daemon laughs. He presses his thumb on your lower lip. Despite your best judgment, you open up and taste yourself. “They are not meant to warm your blood. This is all you.”

Your whole body feels hot with embarrassment. He has to be lying. It can't be. You can’t be this… This… No. No. He has to be lying.

Daemon laughs even more at the face you make. He kisses your neck, then your collarbone. He pushes at the strands of your shift, kissing all over your breast. You feel too ashamed, still reeling at the realization that this is, in fact, all you, to push him off. You are the crazy woman who is begging to have sex with a killer.

He takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking slightly. You moan, arching your back to offer more skin to kiss. Daemon does so, greedily.

He kisses your sternum, then your belly. He bites at the curve of your waist, making you squeal. His lips go lower, kissing over your womb. Then, your mound. And finally, your labia.

Daemon pulls your lips apart and gently nips your clit, taking it between his teeth. Despite how gentle he is being, you jolt. It’s too much stimulation at once, and it’s bordering on the painful. Yet, he shows he can read your body well, because he quickly recovers and chooses to kiss your clitoral hood instead.

You moan again, all high-pitched. The vibrations of his laughter feel very pleasant against your sex.

“That's it. Melt into it, little dreamer.” Daemon says, before going back to eating you out. This time, he sucks slightly harder. You tense in his arms. You can feel the pleasure rising and rising. Never has a partner driven you this fast towards an orgasm.

It's too much and too little.

“I… More, please.” You plead, petting his hair.

He gets up, and kisses you, for the first time in months. You sigh into his mouth. It's then that he pushes his finger inside of you. Immediately, you tighten and tense around him, all sense of embarrassment gone.

“This was just what you needed, wasn’t it?” Daemon whispers in your ear, biting your earlobe before speaking again. You buck your hips, trying to get him to move his finger. He complies, making a come and hither motion. His other hand rubs circles on your clit. “Yes, you needed someone to show you who you really were. My needy little dragon.”

You try to swallow down your scream, muffling it with your hand. The praise, mixed in with the raspy, hungry tone it's delivered in, makes your head swim.

“Come on, don’t fight it.” Daemon encourages, and bends down to take your nipple inside his mouth. It's enough to send you over the edge. This time, you actually scream, tensing under him. White, hot, blinding pleasure. And he strokes you through it, making everything more intense.

As you pant there, coming down from your high, it occurs to you to return the favor. It had been one of the best orgasms of your life, you wouldn't mind pleasing him in exchange. Your mouth watered at the thought of what else he could do.

You place a shaky hand on his thigh, but Daemon pushes it away, gently.

“You will learn to please me too, Wife. In time. But not tonight.” Daemon kisses your cheek, sweetly.

“When?”

“We have the rest of our lives to figure it out.” It’s then when it sinks in. Daemon is never planning to let you go. You start to cry. What have you done?

Daemon sighs. He starts rubbing soothing circles on your back, as if you were a child. That night, he stays. You fall asleep in his arms, warm and relaxed. For the first time in weeks, you do not dream of Rhea.

A few months go by. The season changes, from warm summer to harsh winter. And just as the season changes, so do you.

You wake in your chambers, the bed next to you cold. Your ankles hurt.

You put on a light dress, and go in search for your husband. As you pass the servants and guards, they give you respectful nods and greetings.

Daemon sits on the Iron Throne. Viserys’s health has been worsening, lately. He looks up at you, taking his eyes from the parchment he is reading. His eyes greedily trace your figure.

“I swear you get more beautiful every day.” He says, as you let your dress pool at your ankles.

“Everyday I look rounder, more like it.” You complain. At the door, the guards discretely look away. If you want to parade around naked, so be it. It’s up to them to avert their eyes, if they don’t want to lose them, Daemon has instructed.

No one dares oppose him. Not anymore, with you by his side. Viserys’s reign might just go down as one of the bloodiest in history, with how hard the two of them have been working to rid the realm of any future enemy of Rhaenyra.

He laughs.

“You do not. You look like my dreamer.”

You roll your eyes at him, cradling your belly. His breathing hitches, minutely. There is arousal in his expression, once again. The more obvious your pregnancy becomes, the more he wants you. Daemon likes how your body has changed, how there are stretch marks on previously smooth skin, how your breasts are fuller.

“My ankles hurt. Make it better?”

What was life before him? You can barely remember how you functioned before, having to make all the decisions and thinking. Trusting him is easier. Daemon loves you. He wants the best for you.

You don't hate him as much as you thought. You might even love him back. No. You love the pleasure he gives you, you are hooked to it. You need him like a heroin addict needs her next fix.

Before, you used to be a good person. You cared about others. Now, you care about yourself, the baby and him. In that order.

You had plans. You had a future, a career. Now, you live the day. If you think too hard about tomorrow, you feel like you can't breathe. So you don't. It's easier, this way.

Daemon likes you more like this. Not a little girl anymore, but a woman. One he molded into his perfect partner. Strong, but never stronger than him. Smart, but not enough to escape him. And a little broken. Still with a bit of fire, still a little rebellious. But never trying to get away.

He says you are more of a goddess than a woman. Special. Holy. Before, your courses aligned with the moon, your pregnancy timed just right. The baby should be here just when spring turns to summer. What could you be, if not a little goddess?

The mysteries of womanhood fascinate him. It’s made even worse with your knowledge of the future. He seems to think all you know about pregnancy is part of your powers as a dreamer. Once, you made the mistake of telling him the baby could hear him. Daemon has never skipped a day of talking to them since.

You barely think of Rhea, these days. Daemon keeps you away from Runestone and occupied with other matters. Matters that are much more pleasurable to think about than your past.

“Come, Lady Wife.”

And you do.

You wear other kinds of chains now.

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x y/n #daemon targaryen #daemon smut #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targeryan #daemon x reader #daemon x you #daemon x oc #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x female reader #hotd #hotd fanfic #asoif fanfic #asoiaf #asoif/got #divine intuition series

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shroomaz · 4 months

Text

First Encounters with the Disaster Twins

A/N: I wanted to try something new- by NO MEANS am I a writer but I'm trying to tap into the turtle-ness that are these brothers. SO I thought why not for a start do a READER first encounter? I rushed Donnie's story a bit but that's because I had to do some things today...enjoy!

💜DONNIE - (ROOFTOP...at night...half rescue-)

You were on top of the roof admiring the scenery, frustrated at the troubles of the day. It wasn't your fault that you had the computer stolen, Kendra and her purple dragons managed to get their grubby hands on it, and then you were blamed for losing it.

You swore that you would get it one way or another, however, you never thought of a plan for it...

You were drowning in the scene so much that you had no awareness to what was going on...in other words, you were called "too emotional" for your own good, not that it was your fault. Just the overall scenery and quietness made everything much more vibrant...until you heard the sound of a crash. You turned your head and looked over to where the sound had come from; down in the alley.

Rushing; you had gone to see what it was.

Then it all came to you, there they were - the Purple Dragons.

You scowled at the very look on Kendra's smug little face.

Kendra was about to speak before getting bumped on the head with what seemed to be a metal part....wow. Is she okay??? It seems like her henchmen were thinking the same thing.

Whilst they were dragging her away hoping that she was at least ALIVE, you look up to see something floating around the buildings unevenly. Quickly grabbing the metal piece that fell, you rush your way in the direction the figure went.

Not even caring about the dragons that would soon follow you.

Climbing your way up the building's stairs, you lay your eyes upon a turtle with a purple shell and purple bandana. Looking frustrated and seemingly fixated on something. "All that I told Nardo to do- was leave the controls alone and nothing would happen. And what does he do? Touch. My. Things..." his eye twitches from the thought...and hissing too. "And great...I'm missing something! Round of applause anyone? Anyone?...Ah great now I'm talking to myself. I'm becoming Raph." He visibly shivered at the thought as he gave himself a slight face palm.

You couldn't help but try to make your way out of the situation, in shock that a turtle is even capable of moving like that, that tall and that smart and can TALK???? Its like something from a Jupiter Jim movie.

You took a step back but you missed your footing and tripped backwards.

"GAHHH---!!" You cried in terror as you- ya know- nearly fell to your death at 115 ft. But your body was grabbed by four claws that dragged you up.

Unknowingly, you were squirming to get out.

"Fear not dear fellow human, for I am but your most excellent SAVIOR!" he gloats to himself. "Against my tech, you are unable to break free from my heroic grasp from. Yours truly: Othello Von Ryan!" He gloats again, seems like he's trying to show how smart he is.

"....Othello Von Ryan?" you looked up at him confused. "Is that your name-"

"I-" he opened his eyes and raised his eyebrow with his arms slightly crossed. "Do you have a problem with that?" he questioned you.

".....No?" You squeaked out to him.

The Turtle seemed to bring his attention over to the piece that you had in your hand. His eyes glimmering. He looked so happy! So content in passion.

"Hey...you found the piece! That's what I'm looking for!" he exclaimed.

His claws put you down so that you could walk towards him and give him the piece. "Was this yours?" You asked handing him the metal part.

"More or less... it's for something very precious of mine.-" He looks He takes the piece before you both get surprised by the Purple Dragons. Kendra seemed to hiss when she saw the turtle.

"Get them Jas!" she had her "brother" try to take care of the situation with his invention that seemed to be in the form of a spider. "Get Donnie this time! Make yourself of use!" I mean- she's angry cause she got hit on the head with a metal part... it's understandable.

Suddenly you feel a hand wrap around your waist along with the turtle saying. "Hang on!!" You grip on without thinking before the turtle's purple shell grows to drone-like wings and starts hovering to get the two of you away from the situation.

"Donnie huh...?" you thought to yourself looking up at the softshell.

🩵LEO - (IT WAS A RESCUE...it was by accident-)

You were walking back home from work.

It wasn't most ideal but your car had been in an accident so you had no way of transportation...and crime was spiking, so you had already made up your mind to not take a cab. However, this was fine, you made sure to stay on the right shortcut home and that there was a light where you went...and above all, you had your BEATING STICK! +lucky charm.

(insert sparkling image of a dinky self-defense weapon here...along with the charm of your choice.)

What could go wrong?

Is what you said to yourself....but it was too late--

Suddenly; a glowing blue light appeared from above. Looking up to see what it was- your fight or flight response immediately made you leap across the street when a mutant hippo came crashing down with a mutant turtle following behind.

"HOHOO--- BOYY!" the turtle in blue started to exclaim as he came crashing down into the pavement on the Hippo.

"Blasted! You teleported me away from the 'Cards of Devant'! Curse you turtle! What is it that I possibly have to do to get you turtles off my hide." The hippo cursed at the red-eared slider in an accent, floating rings surrounding him.

"You're telling me...I could be catching my beauty-zs right now, but you have to try to get your tricky fingers on those magical cards-!"

The turtle was using his odachi to create more portals to deflect the spinning rings coming at him; you were too stunned to speak- but you tried your best to sneak away until you heard a snort from the hippo mutant. You slowly made eye contact...and then awkwardly smiled.

The hippo seemed to give a grin.

"Eh? Whatcha looking at-- ohhhh boy..." the turtle looked in your direction too. How could he have not seen you before- he didn't know but all he could do was try to play cool.

It was only then that the turtle knew what to do. He couldn't stay longer- but he couldn't leave you there either. He left his brothers behind where the cards were, so he knew they would be safe...I suppose it's time to do what any hero would do.

He leaped at you whilst you grabbed your BEATING STICK as a way of self-defense. Not knowing what was happening-

The hippo pounced, but you managed to sledge him straight in the head with your BEATING STICK losing it in the process; with that being said the Hippo missed and the turtle fell through the portal with you in one of his arms.

"Adios! Hippos!" the turtle called with a laugh following after. The hippo seemed outraged before the portal closed...then it was quiet.

You both fell on a floor that seemed to be the top of a roof; an apartment complex. You groaned...and then he groaned. It seemed like he didn't think that he could hit back first onto a hard floor. However...you both did.

Rubbing the back of his head and looking over to make sure you were okay, he seemed to lose his face-man grin that turned into a look of worry.

"Are you okay?" the blue turtle helped you up.

"I'm okay...what are you...?" you rubbed your eyes and looked upon the features of the slider turtle. You were frazzled...he could understand, it is not every day you meet a sentient turtle.

He moved with ease.

The turtle seemed in thought before laughing slightly and rubbing the back of his head.

"I think a better question would be what is your name..." He puts his odachi back behind him before lifting your lucky charm in the other.

"You can call me Leo." he smiled at you, which was strangely calming.

"....Y/N."

(END)

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise donnie #rise leo #disaster twins #rottmnt donnie x reader #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt leo x reader #rottmnt leo #tmnt 2018 #rottmnt leonardo

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dark-and-kawaii · 4 months

Text

༺ 𝒱𝑒𝓃𝑔𝑒𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 ༻

Raphael

Summary: Raphael returns to his boudoir with news that will forever burden your soul, the loss of a child is never easy…

Pairings: Raphael x F!Tav/Reader

Notes: This is separate from “Heirs”. I just wanted to write more angst bahaha.

Character Death - Angst - Battle - Blood

Throughout your journey with the absolute, you found yourself entangled in a forbidden love with Raphael, a love that defied all odds. Your union was born from flames, a tempestuous affair woven between two souls, bound by both passion and damnation. Your companions, especially Karlach and Wyll, vehemently forbade it. Karlach, the barbarian tiefling, was particularly against your entanglement with Raphael. She had expressed countless times her disapproval of witnessing you surrendering yourselves so freely to the devil. One day, she finally left your life for good, and you haven't heard from or seen her since.

However, your greatest fear loomed over you: now that Raphael had the crown he would set his sights on Avernus, where Wyll and Karlach resided. You dreaded receiving the news that Raphael had either killed Karlach or one of his lackeys had. His insatiable thirst for power would drive him to conquer Avernus and beyond, and Karlach would be caught in the crossfire.

You knew Raphael would be a part of the fights here and there, at times you worried, other times you were sure of him. But what you never anticipated was that yours and his daughter, a gentle yet fearless soul birthed from your twisted union, would also become entangled in the wars to come.

The knowledge of your daughter's involvement in the chaos gnawed at your heart, a foreboding sense of unease that whispered in the recesses of your mind. She was out there now, surveying the lands near Zariel for her dear father to see where they should strike first… The night was still as you stood by the crackling fireplace, finding solace in its flickering flames while Haarlep laid on the bed like some sort of house cat.

“You have little faith in our precious little girl.” Haarlep spoke freely. The incubus had forged a bond with your daughter, but unlike you, they lacked maternal instincts. “She’ll do well out there, afterall she is also of Raphael’s blood.”

You remained silent, your eyes fixated on the dancing flames. It felt as if you're trying to glean the happenings in Avernus, near Zariel's domain.

The sound of Raphael's return to the boudoir finally broke your trance. Little did you know that he carried a tormenting secret, burdened by its weight. Slowly, he approached you, his steps deliberate as he reached out for your hand. A mix of vexation and despair painted his features as he prepared to unveil the truth that would shatter your world.

"My dear-," he spoke, his voice seething with a mix of sorrow and anger, "in this moment, I must share tragic news that will forever haunt your soul." you could feel the gravity of his words, the pain they inflicted upon him even before they left his lips. “Our daughter, the fruit of our affair, has been plucked from us by the hands of treachery. It is with a heavy heart that I reveal to you the dreadful truth-,” Your heart twisted with anguish, you had feared the consequences of his ambitious plans, but you had never anticipated the loss of his and yours own flesh and blood.

You couldn’t see it, but Haarlep’s tail fell to the bed, hanging limply off the edge of the bed…

Tears welled up in your eyes, anger and grief mingling within you, with a trembling breath, “H-How could this be? Tell me, Raphael.” your voice was demanding while your lips trembled as your tears teeter on the edge of your eyelids, glistening, before finally succumbing to gravity…

Raphael's grip tightened on your hand, his voice seething with restrained fury, “Karlach and Wyll, your previous companions carried out this malignant act.”

You could feel the bile rising within you, your breath catching in your throat as your knees threaten to surrender beneath the weight of unbearable grief. The room spins around you, a cruel vortex of disbelief…

Raphael stood by your side as you took in the horrific news, his hand never leaving yours. Your free hand clutched at your stomach, your fingers searching for the child that was once a part of you. Desperate for stability amidst the chaos of your emotions.

Your vision continued to blur as your mind struggles to comprehend the magnitude of what has unfolded. To realize that those you had once trusted, the companions of your past, were the catalysts of your daughter's passing… It was an unbearable torment. Betrayal, the venomous beast, sank its fangs deep into your soul.

You turned to face Raphael, your expression a tempest of grief and rage. In that moment, the fires of vengeance ignited within you. Your daughter, Raphael’s heir, the child of House Hope, gone far too soon… "Raphael," your voice whispered, your voice trembling with a haunting resolve. He watched you closely, allowing you to speak the words he already had thought about, "We shall not let this cruelty go unpunished. Our daughter's blood shall not stain the ground without punishment. Let Wyll and Karlach tremble in fear beneath the weight of our wrath and power."

“My child will be avenged in the cruelest of manners.”

Amidst the chaos and the clash of steel, your heart pounded with a ravenous rage that threatened to consume your very soul. Your daughter, a precious light in your life, had been mercilessly struck down by the hands of those you once called friends. Wyll and Karlach, their names now etched in your mind as the embodiment of betrayal.

As you advanced, your eyes locked with Karlach's, a flicker of desperation in her gaze. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this," she pleaded, her voice strained. "Your daughter interfered, it was a mistake!" The weight of Karlachs actions settled heavily upon her heart, as the reality of the loss she had inflicted upon you settles in. She never wished to take your daughter's life, to rip a child away from its mother. Even if the child belonged to Raphael, she was still yours that you birthed. Karlach knew the pain, but at the time… It was all a mistake.

You refused to believe such words, "Liar!" Your voice echoed through the battlefield, your voice mighty like a dragon's roar. You swung your sword with a force born of anguish, aiming for Karlach's neck. In that moment, time seemed to stretch, as if the world itself held its breath.

With a swift motion, your blade had connected…

Severing Karlach's head from her body...

The sound of steel meeting flesh filled the air, followed by the sickening thud as the lifeless head rolled away, coming to rest in a pool of blood. It was done, but now what?…

Overwhelmed by the weight of it all, you sank to your knees in the desolate landscape of Avernus. Red skies and a brewing hellish thunderstorm served as a grim backdrop to your misery. Sullen tears streamed down your cheeks, mixing with the blood stains, marking the depths of your sorrow.

As you surveyed the carnage you had wrought, a bittersweet emptiness began to settle within you. The flames of vengeance, once vibrant and fierce, flickered and revealed the true hollowness beneath. The tragic truth of never seeing your daughter again haunts you, overshadowing any satisfaction you may have derived from retribution.

Behind you, Raphael, with his immaculate ascended form, towered over you. He crouched down, his much larger frame curling protectively around your back. One of his wings shielded you from the hells, providing solace and comfort. His head rested gently at your side, Raphael allowed himself to mourn alongside you.

A rare sight indeed, but a much needed one before you both caused the skies around Avernus and every other realm to fall...

"Your reign has just begun, Raphael,” your hand finds the bones to his cheek, "you'll have it all. This I swear to you." Raphael's tail tightens around you, a silent agreement. Because the hells and every other realm haths no fury like a devil and a mother that lost what should never have been taken...

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #haarlep #raphael x tav #raphael the cambion #tav #karlach

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vashtijoy · 11 months

Note

what is the link between Akechi and the story of Robin Hood?

*pulls on my green British person hat and grabs a bow*

I'm not a huge expert on Persona links but they do tend to be a bit tenuous; Akechi's Robin Hood is no more like the legendary Robin Hood than Loki is like Loki or Arsene is like Lupin. That said:

Robin Hood is a thief, of course. Chalk that one up in the "Akechi is a Phantom Thief" column;

Robin Hood is a master of disguise, like both Akechi's other personas;

Robin Hood is often depicted as being of noble birth and having been unjustly dispossessed—Akechi's "prince" regalia is often interpreted that way, as a claim on a denied birthright;

Wikipedia defines "a Robin Hood" as "a heroic outlaw or a rebel against tyranny", which, well;

He's most known for having robbed from the rich to give to the poor, and I don't quite get that one. Akechi himself could be "the poor", but "robbed from the rich to give to himself" lacks a certain cachet.

The most notable thing about Robin Hood, to me, is that Superman motif that contrasts with Hereward's Batman motif, with Loki in the middle as the second awakening—hero to villain to antihero. Because, even if he awakened to both Robin and Loki at the same time, it's like Protect and Endure—there must still have been an order.

We see it during his third awakening to Hereward—the historical figure Robin Hood was allegedly based on. Hereward resembles Robin Hood, and Robin is on the left—which makes him the first awakening. Even if it maybe didn't work the same as the others we saw.

But yeah, one argument in favour of Akechi awakening to both Robin Hood and Loki at the same time is that Akechi did not randomly awaken. Like Joker, Akechi was awakened—to serve a purpose, to be Yaldabaoth's agent spreading fear among the masses.

That makes it very hard for me to picture Akechi starting out as a good guy, as the hero he dreamed of being. Akechi was chosen for his role because he was already full of hate—because he was the sort who, given power, would inevitably twist it to a bad end that he was already fixated on. Akechi is already the kid with the perfect outward image who's twisted and broken on the inside; he essentially tells us in the engine room that he lived his whole life that way. I have a feeling he was already becoming like that when his mother was alive.

The thing is, there's no reason that kid can't still believe in justice; of course he does. He believes in it the way people who've been hurt by religion often still believe in God. He believes in it as something that should exist, but doesn't; as an ideal, with the hate that's the flip side of love and belief. There are no heroes. Nobody will save him. Friends and family aren't real; love and trust are lies people tell themselves, tricks used to manipulate you. The system isn't on his side; no matter what he does, the world just finds new ways to hurt him, and what can he do about it?

And that guy he can't stop thinking about, who symbolises all of this injustice, whose shadow Akechi has lived in for so long? As well wish for the moon as hope to get back at him.

Except, one day, he finds the app on his phone. He goes from being bitter and powerless to having power, to having choices, to being able to hurt others like he's been hurt. But that part of him that aspired to justice, to being a hero, never really goes away. He does his utmost to give his life for it.

#persona 5 #p5 meta #goro akechi

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chosobeee · 6 months

Text

𝓕𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓐𝓼𝓵𝓮𝓮𝓹 𝓞𝓷 𝓗𝓲𝓶 ♡

Pairing: Itadori Yuji x GN!Reader

Word Count: 883

Warnings: Just a lot of fluff, very self indulgent. Yuji is SMITTEN. Mostly proofread, but there could still be mistakes.

A/N: I will be making more of these for different characters, but I got a little carried away with this one and now it's 2 in the morning, so go me :D This is my first post in a VERY long time, so please be nice, I know it's no where near perfect. Regardless, I hope you all enjoy! xx

- You guys probably stayed up too late binge watching each other’s favorite movies together.

- Yuji was very immersed in the movie you picked out. He would occasionally turn to you to say something or ask questions about it to make sure he was getting everything right. He cares about your hyper fixations, okay?

- He also loves to try and predict what’s gonna happen—and he’s very good at it. It takes everything in you to keep a straight face when he guesses things correctly, because you don’t want to ruin the surprise. Though the excitement of watching him react to your favorite pieces of media is hard enough to control as it is.

- About an hour into the third movie of the night, you started to feel your eyes grow heavy and your breathing even out. You became less reactive to the movie and more focused on trying to stay awake. You really didn't want this night to end just yet.

- Yuji didn’t really seem to notice this, as his attention was fixed on the screen, his brows furrowed and mouth slightly parted. You would’ve chuckled at him if it weren’t for how tired you’ve become.

- Sleep slowly but surely creeping up, you burned the image of his adorable concentration face deep into your mind to cherish it forever. If only you had the energy to snap a real photo, but this will have to do.

- Finally, your eyes closed for the final time that night, your body deciding that it was indeed bed time.

- Yuji felt a warm weight fall against his bicep, and with a soft sound of surprise, turned to see you had fallen asleep on him. His heart suddenly swelled with adoration as he looked over your sleeping figure. He nearly stopped breathing, almost terrified to wake you.

- It took EVERYTHING in this man to hold back his cute aggression. I mean, look at you! All snuggled up against him, breathing softly between parted lips, cheek smushed against his arm.

- His face grew hot and he took a few deep breaths to calm himself. No matter how much he wants to give you the biggest hug and squeeze, he could just never disturb your peace like that.

- With how tense things have been getting in the world of sorcerers, it was becoming a rare sight to see you like this. Fully relaxed, heart and mind free of any fear or worry. It brought a little tear to his eye.

- He already made it his life’s mission to protect you, but moments like these really cement that. He wants to keep you like this, undisturbed and at true peace with the world—with him. He'll continue to fight like hell for that to happen.

- A new ache in Yuji’s upper back snaps him out of his thoughts, and a new worry takes hold.

- What does he do now? Does he stay here? Or should he carry you to your bed so you can sleep properly?

- If you stayed here on the couch with him, Gojo would surely find you guys in the morning and you would never hear the end of it. Not to mention you would probably be a bit sore when you woke.

- But if he took you to your bed he risked waking you and he wouldn’t be able to sleep by your side. The thought makes him pout a bit.

- The decision was so small but seemed so huge to him in that moment. Poor guy nearly panicked, thinking a little too hard. Steam practically rolled out of his ears, going over the pros and cons of each choice.

- You shifted a little in your sleep, and his breath hitched in his throat, watching, waiting. But you didn’t wake, eyes firmly closed shut, still breathing slow and steady. Your face twitched a little bit as you let out a content noise, to which Yuji smiled.

- Ultimately though, he decided to stay out here with you. He could deal with Gojo’s teasing, as he already does every day. Plus he could easily just figure out a way to turn Gojo's teasing to Megumi. He just really wants to stay by your side tonight, feeling extra clingy and affectionate.

- He maneuvered you carefully so your head was on his chest, and your body immediately adjusted accordingly. You balled some of his sweatshirt in your hand and nuzzled your head deeper into his warmth. He laid back as far as he could manage, arms wrapping around you and squeezing lightly. His thumb traced absentminded circles on your shoulder.

- Though his heart was nearly pounding out of his chest, you didn’t seem to notice as you began to snore lightly. Heat crept up his neck as he held back a squeal of adoration, bottom lip jutting out, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment.

- See? You don’t even have to try and he folds for you. He always has and always will.

- Yuji feels so at peace with you. And knowing you feel safe enough to fall asleep around him, letting your guard down completely--it makes him feel a strange sense of pride.

- He doesn’t think he’ll ever get over the fact that you chose him. He’s thankful every single day that he not only gets to know you, but gets to be the one you’re closest to. The giddiness probably won’t ever go away. And you feel the same.

- After a while of fawning over you, he felt sleep begin to carry him away, too.

- With a smile on his face and you wrapped in his arms, he fell into his slumber, waiting to wake up to your beautiful face in the morning—something he hopes he can do every morning for a long, long time.

#yuji itadori #yuji x reader #itadori x reader #yuji itadori x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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cupidgwk · 8 months

Text

. . ! oblivious — kim gyuvin

► more friends to lovers !!!!

► synopsis: you and gunwook devised the oh so, full proof plan to get gyuvin to fall for you!!!

► slightly proof read

► p.s gunwook is best wingman

step one — get closer to him (physically)

gunwook laid out the steps for you one by one. first, you’d have to get close to him but in a subtle way!

his bright idea? turning up the a/c. what you didn’t expect was gunwook setting the temperature to a chilling 60 degrees.

“oh it’s pretty cold in here isn’t it.” gunwook ponders.

“yeah, just how cold is it?” you glared at gunwook as your teeth chattered.

“oh don’t worry about it! the air conditioner must be broken.” he shrugged avoiding eye contact.

gyuvin still had his eyes fixated to the tv in full focus in his mario kart race.

“are you cold y/n?” hanbin questioned. “you can wear my sweater if you want!”

“oh thank you hanbin! you shouldn’t have…” your fully slightly pained smile spilling out as you accepted the wrong person’s hoodie.

gunwook physically smacked his hand against his forehead.

spoiler alert: it did leave a mark on his forehead that lasted a good two days.

step one. failed.

step two — make him good ol’ baked home goods

you trusted gunwook with your life after all. well, not after the kitchen fiasco that was.

“uhm, is that supposed to be bubbling?” you questioned in concern watching the “cookies” bake in the oven.

“i don’t think so,” he trailed off in fear. “just how many tea spoons of baking powder did you add?”

“i think, around 3?” you replied.

“that can’t be right, then why is the-“ realization flashed through his eyes.

“oh man..” he started.

“what did i do.”

“well, you may have used table spoons instead of tea spoons.” gunwook stated re-reading the baking instructions.

he pointed his finger to the top of the ingredient list. “also, we used baking powder instead of soda.”

to make the situation even worse, the smell of smoke entered your nostrils.

“there is no way…” you raced to the oven and fished the tray of slightly burned cookies.

of course at the worse timing ever, gyuvin enters the kitchen, clearly looking for whatever he can stuff into his mouth.

“yay cookies!” his eyes lit up. “i love home made ones the best!”

“gyuvin wait!” but you and gunwook were a little too late. as gyuvin munched into the baked good that didn’t even deserve to be called a cookie.

gyuvin’s face went from joy to confusion to pure disgust.

“oh wow guys this is the best thing i’ve ever tasted!” he managed to cough out.

“dude, you can be honest.” gunwook deadpanned.

“i need a moment.” he mumbled making his way toward the bathroom.

in the distance you can hear the faucet running as gyuvin attempted to get any taste of that concoction out of his taste buds.

“great! i gave him food positioning!” you slouched onto the floor in defeat.

step two. failed.

and so the saga continued. gunwook would come up to you every day with a new plan to push gyuvin closer to you. of course, most. well. all of the attempts resulted in failure.

one failed attempt after another felt like a never ending rollercoaster. step 4? yujin beat you to asking gyuvin to share an umbrella on the walk home. step 5? we don’t talk about step 5.

“gunwook, i am one failed attempt away from dropping out and moving across the country. the continent even!” you flailed your arms in annoyance.

gunwook shook his head in disagreement. “no can do!” he shook his finger. “i got this covered y/n, just you wait!”

do not fret. gunwook wasn’t class president for no reason. he devised yet another foolproof plan by adding any steps necessary to ensure by the end of the day you and gyuvin will be a couple.

step ??? — become partners for the upcoming group project

gunwook may or may not have pulled a couple strings to ensure that you and gyuvin would be partners in the newest english assignment.

“hey y/n!” gyuvin greeted pulling up a seat next to you. “what exactly did the teacher say? sorry i think i fell asleep for most of it.”

you laughed at his demeanor before quickly explaining the project requirements and such. surprisingly enough, gyuvin listened intently nodding along to the words spilling from your mouth.

“thanks y/n!” he smiled. “so, when is this due?”

“we have around two weeks or so,” you tapped your pen on your bottom lip as you scanned the instruction sheet once more.

“wanna visit the café across the school so we can sort stuff out?” gyuvin questioned tiling his head.

your face erupted into a smile at his suggestion. “you sure this isn’t just an excuse to try their new season menu?” he pouted at your words lightly shoving your shoulder. “come one! please~”

you rolled your eyes at his antics. “of course gyuvin~” teasing him.

conversations filled the hallway as students rushed to beat rush hour on the train. the two of you continued to converse as you made your way to the train station. of course, gyuvin forgot to reload his train pass resulting in the two of you missing the train.

“i’m so sorry!” gyuvin apologized clasping his hands together. you laughed at his dramatic apology shaking your head playfully. “don’t sweat it, it gives me more time to spend with you.”

“what?” gyuvin questioned. your face immediately burned up as regret filled your mind. before you can even stutter out a response, gyuvin came up with one himself.

“glad to know, my plan worked,” you raised an eyebrow in suspicion. he turns to face you. “why don’t we turn that study session into a real date? you know, to make up for missing the train and everything.”

you rolled your eyes playfully. “of course!” a smile erupted on his face as he suddenly engulfed you in his arms.

“i’ve been waiting so long to do this.”

gunwook’s full proof plan to get you and gyuvin together: SUCCEEDED

#zb1 x reader #gyuvin x reader #gyuvin scenarios #zb1 gyuvin #gyuvin fluff #gyuvin imagines #zb1 imagines #zb1 scenarios #zb1 fics

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