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sp0o0kylights · 4 months ago

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Knight Commander Stephan Harrington, Champion of Light, right hand to the newly crowned (and very young) Queen Elaine, was tied up on the floor.

Unfortunately, so was Eddie.

Which wasn’t intentional--it certainly had not been the plan (not that kidnapping two royal knights had been the plan either)--but it was the outcome that had happened and so, Eddie had to deal.

Now if only he could get the damn bespelled ropes from entangling him…

“You are incredibly bad at this.” The knight informed him in an amused tone. “Like, insanely bad. You should be ashamed levels of bad.”

…which would be a lot easier if he wasn’t being heckled.

“I am not!” Eddie defended, as he finally managed to free himself, throwing the offending, wiggling ropes across the room. Never again would he buy from the cheap spell stall in the market.

“This is a clear and obvious ploy to get you to feel like I am in over my head and you--both of you!--are falling for it!”

He leapt to his feet, spinning around and staring down at his captives with a look he hoped was threatening.

(It wasn’t.)

“We've been kidnapped a handful of times, you know.” Knight First Class Robin Buckley spoke up from her position tied next to her commander. “People tend to put way more thought into it than this.”

She’d adjusted her position sometime between her initial capture (a spell he'd purchased that Eddie had intended to hit the royal carriage and not the knights escorting it) to sit cross legged, hands bound behind her back.

“At least one thought, anyway. You gotta admit this feels pretty desperate.” Stephan piled on. He’d been more entertained than pissed ever since Eddie had taken himself down with his own tools, and the wisecracks were getting worse.

“Thank you, Sir Stephan--”

“You can just call me Steve, man.”

“—but some of us are on a tight deadline here. And for your information,” He brought himself to his full height, trying to loom over them menacingly, “nobody goes around kidnapping royalty unless they’re absolutely desperate.”

Not that he’d succeeded in the “royalty” department, but he’d gotten close enough.

“Oh that reeks of a tragic backstory.” Robin said, like she was seated at a dinner party and not on the floor. “Did you get cursed?”

“He looks like the type of guy to get cursed.” Steve agreed, head tilting like a faithful dogs as he examined his captor.

Frustration overwhelmed him in a wave and Eddie went to angrily yank on his hair before catching himself in the act. As good as it would feel in the moment, it would not help him convince the idiots before him that this was serious, dammit!

The result was that he flung his hands around wildly for a moment, before storming off across the room of the little abandoned cabin he’d found, face burning a brilliant, obvious red.

“I didn’t get cursed, I got accused of--oh. Oh, no, I will not be caught monologuing, fuck you!”

He whirled on his heels, pointing a finger at their stupid faces. “Why I did it doesn’t even matter!”

(Or rather, it did matter—a lot, actually—but not right now. Not to them.

Stupid fucking royal employees and their stupid fucking charmed lives.)

He wasn’t shrieking, he wasn’t--except he was, and both knights traded a look behind his back as he paced wildly about. “I caught you, and I am going to use you to get what I want!”

“Right, sure.” Steve said, nonplussed. “Say, did you maybe touch a weird looking, possibly magical item by chance? Or gave your name to a weirdly attractive looking lady who seems to love yapping about royal court band practices and who definitely wasn't one of the Fae?”

He cast a sly look at his companion with that last line, and was rewarded when her mouth popped open in instant offense.

“You swore you’d stop bringing that up!” Robin said, snapping a leg out in a kick, nailing her companion in the thigh with one thick boot.

“I swore I’d stop bringing up the incident with Nancy.” Steve fired back, taking her kicks with ease. “And all those archery lessons you swore you needed, because you apparently hit your head in battle and forgot how a bow worked--”

“Shut up, Dingus!” Robin growled, in tandem with Eddie’s mounting panic.

This was not, at all, going how this was supposed to. Not that anything had as it was supposed to, since shit went sideways, but the knights were at least could have the decency to be somewhat afraid of him!

Or angry.

Eddie could work with angry!

This two bit comedy routine he was being subjected to instead of any rational reaction was just the icing on top of the weird cake of his life and he was this close to having a full blown mental breakdown about it.

Which, of course, was exactly when they had to go and make things worse.

Robin stopped kicking her commander and turned back to Eddie, eyes narrowing with the sharpness of someone who had just put something big together. “Hey, hold on—aren’t you that bard half the kingdom won’t shut up about? Eddie the Balladeer?”

Because naturally, the first time anyone recognized him since his life went to hell, it had to be the people he’d just kidnapped.

(He should have listened to his uncle and become a woodworker.)

“I was.” Eddie grumped. “More like fuckin’ Eddie the Banished now. But again,” He stressed the word with a harsh flick of both hands, “that doesn’t matter.”

“Why not?” Steve pressed him. “Pretty sure Dustin is planning on you playing at his birthday party. He’s obsessed with that weird song you do. The one with the bed spring noises.”

Eddie did not know who Dustin was, but after the chaos of the past two weeks, it was only a matter of time before word of his so-called crimes reached the capitol and shredded whatever remained of his reputation.

“Considering I’ve been accused of murder and my entire damn hometown thinks I’m leading satanic rituals, I seriously doubt that,” he sneered, aiming for something haughty and menacing—anything that would make them start taking this whole thing seriously.

Steve and Robin exchanged another look, the kind only two people sharing a single brain cell could, the unspoken agreement loud and clear on their faces: ‘Do Not Laugh Right Now.

Which was, frankly, insulting, given the sheer level of trauma that came with being branded a murderer.

“Who accused you of satanic worship?” Steve managed to ask, clearly struggling to keep his words giggle free. “You look like one of those wobbly baby deer. You know, with the big, cute eyes.”

Eddie glowered at him. “Are you deaf? I just said it was the entire town!”

(He determinedly ignored the fact that Steve had just compared him to a damn woodland creature—and called him cute, on top of it.)

“Is this one of those things wrong place wrong time things?” Robin tacked on, like this was a fun puzzle and not Eddie’s life spiraling wildly out of control. “Like, ‘there’s a dead body on the floor and I’m holding a knife but I swear I just walked in here right before the constable did’ type of situations?”

“I bet the person he apparently murdered isn’t even dead.” Steve fake-whispered to Robin conspiratorially, eyes never leaving Eddie’s. They were crinkled at the edges in a smile, like this entire thing was getting better by the second. “Money says he helped a fair maiden get out of an awful marriage and the shitty fiancé accused him of killing her.”

Which is exactly what happened, the fucking dick.

Jaw swimming with his attempts to get out too many words at once, Eddie sputtered. “Of course she isn’t dea--I mean, I, no!”

“Ha! Steve you totally nailed it.” Robin said, leaning back in triumph. “Which means Dongus here was trying to kidnap one of the Princes to get someone to listen to you. God that’s so cliche.”

“It’s not like I asked for it to happen!” Eddie shrilled, tone hitting notes he hadn’t been aware his throat could make.

“Man, I'm good.” Steve said, ignoring Eddie entirely. "I should've been a detective."

“Please, you’re much better at looking intimidating than actually being intimidating. Why do you think Hopper made you Champion, Mr. Model?”

Eddie’s hands were in his hair again, and this time, he gave up all pretenses of looking cool and evil and let himself tear at it.

“Why I’m doing this doesn’t matter because it’s not like you two can fucking help me!”

That, at least, cut through the good cheer, succeeding in finally getting both knights to shut up.

“I’m dead if I don’t fix this, but worse is if they go on and target Wayne, or Gareth or the rest of the band, or--” He wasn’t exactly hyperventilating, but he was breathing awfully fast. “I can’t let that fucknut Carver go on a whole rampage and hurt everyone who ever associated with me!”

Wayne was fairly talented at talking the village down, but that had always been when Eddie had been accused of selling fake potions or replacing the town flag with Jason’s undergarments.

He was not going to be able to fight off an angry mob, should they decide to make the trek to him.

“Hey.” Steve said, his voice losing all the humor it had before. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay!”

“We can help make it okay.” Robin said gently and it become abruptly clear that his kidnapping victims were now trying to comfort him, because life just had to kick him while he was down. “We’re Knights of the Kingdom, after all.”

“Oh and I suppose I’m just supposed to untie you and you’ll--what?” Eddie glared at them, hands pulling hard at his hair. “Just let the whole kidnapping thing go? Help me out of the goodness of your hearts instead of arresting me and throwing me in the stockades?”

Steve shrugged. “I mean, yeah.”

“I don’t believe you.” Eddie said flatly.

“Does it help if we tell you this isn’t a contender for the top ten weirdest situations we’ve been in?” Robin asked. “Like, it’s not even close.”

“No. No it does not.”

“Okay.” Steve said, in a ‘thinking aloud’ sort of voice. “How about this? We give you our words as knights that we’ll help clear your name, and you can stick with us so no one else tries anything until we do.”

Like Eddie was dumb enough to fall for that bullshit.

“And why would you do that? What's in it for you to help clear my name?” He challenged them. “We both know the second I untie either of you, you’re going to overwhelm me and take me in. I’m not taking that chance.”

Not with Wayne on the line.

“Has anyone ever told you you have trust issues?” Steve asked, pushing Eddie right over the edge.

“I was convicted!” He dropped his hands in a crazed movement, only to smack the back of one against the other's palm in time with his shrieking. “Of! Murder!”

He must have hit another shrill note, because Steve and Robin both winced.

“Easy.” Steve soothed. “You know who I am, right?”

Eddie snorted. Sir Stephan’s face was plastered across a shitload of banners all over the kingdom. You couldn’t go anywhere without knowing who the Queen’s Champion was, and Robin was nearly just as famous.

“Yes.” He grit out.

“Then you know that while I myself don’t have any kind of magic or power, I am tied directly into the Kingdom’s power.”

In an impressive display of athleticism, Steve maneuvered himself up into a proper kneel, hands still tied behind his back with softly glowing ropes.

He looked up at Eddie through thick lashes, expression earnest. “If you want, I will tap into it to make you an unbreakable oath. That way I can’t betray you.”

Stunned into stillness, Eddie stared at him, before his eyes swept to his companion, trying to check if this was some kind of trick or trap or--something else he was too stupid to catch.

Instead of an answer, Robin looked just as shocked as Eddie, her jaw dropping.

“Dingus, you can’t be serious,” She protested, while Eddie finally found his voice to choke out;

“Why would you do that?”

“Because we’re the good guys,” Steve replied, with a smile so bright it could probably power the sun. “and the good guys help people.”

That was said a little oddly--like he was quoting someone who’d said it many, many times before.

Eddie opened his mouth, struggling to form the words.

“How,” he started, his voice cracking on the word. He paused, biting his lip before finally gathering the strength to ask, “How do you know I’m not just lying to you?”

“You?” Steve echoed, the word practically a challenge, but he was still looking up at Eddie through those damn eyelashes, his expression calm, like they'd known each other for a hundred years and would know each other for a hundred more. “No way.”

They stared at each other for a long, drawn out moment. Eddie didn’t know what Robin was doing, didn’t have room in his brain to even recall her presence in the room. It felt like he and Steve were connected, his entire life was teetering and this moment would decide the outcome.

Steve had been right. Eddie did have trust issues. Big ones, and this entire situation had only made them worse, but somehow, in that moment, he felt like he could do the impossible.

He could trust Steve.

“Okay.” He said quietly, all his bluster and wild hand movements gone.

Steve beamed at him.

“Kneel down in front of me.” The knight instructed, and as if drawn by an invisible thread, Eddie did so, dropping down so his face was level with Steve’s.

“Come closer.” Steve ordered, and waited as Eddie shuffled, closer and closer, until they were barely a breaths width apart, so close he could see the streaks of gold in Steve’s warm, brown eyes.

“I,” Steve started, in a voice that was both powerful and intimate, “Sir Stephan, Knight Commander of the Kingdom of Light, Queen’s Champion and head of House Harrington, call upon the bonds that make me and that I have made in turn, to hereby swear to you,”

He paused, waiting, and it took Eddie a moment to realize he had never given the man his name.

“Edward Munson, of Town Hawkins.” He muttered, bespelled entirely by the warmth in Steve's eyes.

“Edward Munson, Bard of Town Hawkins,” Steve said, and oh, what the addition of the word ‘bard.’ did to Eddie’s stomach. The flips it made when he realized just how well Steve was continuing to read him, better than anyone else in his life ever had.

(It made him feel insane.)

“that I will aid in clearing your name, restoring your reputation, and ensuring your safe return to the life you were meant to live.”

Something built up between them, humming with the buzz of magic. The weight felt tangible, the threads growing thick tying Eddie and Steve together.

“By the powers that be.” Steve whispered, leaning ever so slightly forward, eyelashes lowering.

Eddie repeated the last line back to Steve, guided by the nudging insistence of the magic that circled them.

For a second the oath become visible, strings of bright yellow magic surging about, and Eddie was almost drawn to look at it, had he not been distracted by Steve closing the distance between them.

“Wha--” Eddie started to ask, only for Steve to draw the word into his own mouth, sealing their oath with a kiss.

In the songs Eddie sung, the world exploded when one experienced true love's kiss. Birds sang, and people cheered, fireworks rose to explode in the air.

This kiss was nothing like that.

This kiss felt like coming home.

Steve ended it as chastly as he started it, pulling back to smile at him. “And there you have it. One sworn Knight Commander, duty bound to clear your good name.”

“Uh huh.” Eddie said, blinking rapidly, trying to come back into himself, trying not to look as dazed as he felt. “Right. My uh, name.”

Steve beamed at him. Tentatively, Eddie smiled back, and if a moment could be warm then this one was the warmest thing Eddie had ever experienced, like a gentle blanket being draped across them both.

It was ruined entirely by the forced coughing that started up next to them.

“If you two are done now, my arms are going numb.” Robin announced, making Eddie jerk back and Steve roll his eyes.

“Sorry.” Eddie said automatically, face going red for the third time that day. “I’ll uh. I’ll do that now.”

In his mad scramble to get to his feet and hide how aroused he was, Eddie missed the smug look Steve gave Robin.

In his attempts at removing the spelled ropes from her wrists, he equally missed the sarcastically mouthed ‘Slut.’ Robin aimed back at him.

He did, however, somehow understand that Robin came with Steve, and that he had just damned himself to their bantering.

Weirdly, it made him feel better instead of worse.

xXx

“So out of curiosity, what name did you give yourself?” Steve asked a handful of hours later, as the three of them began their trek to Castle Hoosier.

Eddie frowned at him. “Name?”

“You know.” Steve nudged his shoulder against Eddie’s playfully, like they were buddies. “Your evil wizard name, or whatever.”

“I never said I was a wizard, Steve.”

“You cannot tell me someone as dramatic as yourself didn’t immediately decide to change your name to something ridiculous.” The knight challenged, and Eddie hated how easily the guy had clocked him. “I bet it has evil in the title. Or Mean. Or--”

“It was Dread Lord Munson.” Robin interrupted.

With a grin so wide it overtook her entire face, she turned a little leatherbound notebook to face Steve. There, in Eddie’s spidery scrawl, was the offending name taking up half the page.

“Where did you get that!?” Eddie squawked, lunging for the book. Robin, in a show of skill he wouldn’t have thought her capable of, tossed it right over his head, into the waiting hands of Steve.

Eddie spun, cursing wildly as Steve took a look at his personal (!) writings.

(He hadn't even seen her grab it, dammit!)

He ducked out of the way once, then twice, laughing the entire time, before closing the book with a snap and holding it out to Eddie.

“Come on, Dork Lord, let’s go get your name cleared.” He said, a fond grin on his face.

“I hate you. Both of you.” Eddie whined, a blush dusting his cheeks as he snatched his book back, but followed Steve anyway.

He had the worst feeling he was going to be doing that for a while, now. Even if his name got cleared.

Fucking knights.

Bonus:

“We both know that binding ritual does not involve a kiss, Steve.” Robin said, some time later, quiet enough for only her friend to hear.

“Ah, shut up Robs. Let me have my fun.” Steve said. “Besides, it sets the tone. Now that he knows what kissing me is like, it's all he’s gonna be thinking about.”

“Pretty sure all he’s thinking about is clearing his name, Dingus.”

“Okay, yeah.” Steve stressed the word, “but after we clear it? That little scatterbrained bard is gonna be fully focused on me.” He flicked a finger at his own chest, and gave what he thought was his best winning smile.

Robin made gagging noises.

In retaliation. Steve tried to push her off her horse.

#Eddie does in fact know Dustin #its just that Dustin #and the party at large #also gave themselves dramatic nicknames #steddie #they kiss in this one #stobin #0o0 fanfics #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #I've been reading a lot of comedy fantasies #so this is a very 'dreadful' slash Tom Holt slash Not Very Serious Fantasy take on the concept lol #knight commander Steve #Knight First Class Robin #Dread Lord Evil Guy Eddie Munson #Who is neither evil nor a lord #a weird little take on enemies to lovers LOL

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lilacgaby · 8 months ago

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title: saved.

pairing: childhoodfriend!katsuki x reader

when all hope failed you two, a twist of fate saved your futures.

alt. ending to this imagine | standalone(?)

note: my sincerest apologies to everyone <3 please accept my heartfelt apology (if i @/ed you it's especially dedicated to you)

katsuki held your hand taut in his, looking for a way, any way, to save you.

he couldn't find one, but he fought to. he was fighting the feeling of grotesque horror that came over him at the sight of your wound, your pain, the smell of your blood.

it was too much.

but he pushed through. he pushed through for you, he had to. he saw how your forced your eyes open, he felt the squeezing of your hand trying to keep yourself there with him.

upon inspection, the wound was piercing your lungs more towards the left-mid side of your body. his prayers now became answered, as a hero with a shattering quirk came running up to him.

they decided the best and quickest force of action would be to shatter the base of the beam, and fly you to urgent care where a team would be waiting.

he could do it, he had to. katsuki pondered, now moving over to address you, with slightly glazed over eyes. "babe, i- i have you. just hold on." you squeezed his hand in acknowledgment.

the plan was set into action, he tried to ignore the sounds of your guttural pain. the whimpers are sounds of choking are ones that'd haunt him for years, he was certain.

as he blasted over the city, little regard for his own injuries, he only had you on his mind.

he let out a sigh of relief as he saw the hospital come into view. the team waiting with a stretcher outside like he'd planned.

"we're here baby, you can rest now. i got you."

"you saved me." is all you said before finally letting your eyes shut. your body went limp with sleep and not death as he feared, the slightest rising of your chest comforting him as they got you on the table.

they immediately rushed you in and got to work, he wasn't able to see because a team was called out just for his wounds as well.

they treated him for a minor would on his arm, a pathetic excuse of an attack that only managed to land because you were on his mind. he laid in the bed, red eyes still alert and ready.

his exhaustion caught up to him, he fell asleep without knowing, only waking up to his mom shaking his shoulder. "hey kid, wife's asking for your dumbass. hurry it up." being the words that greeted him that day.

"whatever hag." he muttered under his breath as he jumped out of bed, directed to your room immediately.

you were still a bit out of it, drugged with pain relief medication. but still, with a dopey smile you greeted him. "kats' you're here."

he let out a smile for the first time in hours, he took your hand in his, his thumb over your heartbeat. "yeah, i am."

while your recovery wasn't fast, you were allowed home after three days. you'd likely never be the hero you once were, but the alternative was death so it's not what you were worried about.

the fight had left you with a hole in your body, your lungs now only at half capacity. katsuki was there every step of the way for you,

the entire ordeal even made him rise in the ranking, so his frequent absences were rewarding in multiple ways.

he'd take on most of the chores around your large home now, even hiring a maid for weekdays when he'd be gone. he was now clingier than ever, asking about you every hour, sending you texts and voicemails chatting about his day and asking of yours.

when you finally were well enough to make your redebut as a hero? he was ecstatic, though it was clear from the fact that he'd never let you patrol without him that he'd be stuck like glue to you for eternity.

he'd be proud of you for this, so eternally faithful to you that he asked to renew your vows for your anniversary this year, excited to gift you the new ring he had made for you.

everything you'd do in the day he'd find a way to be apart of. from laying his head in your lap as your watched shows, sitting by you as he paid for you nails, lugging behind you as you insisted on buying groceries even though the maids were on top of that, putting his arm around your neck whenever you stood by him.

but it's not like you minded,

after all, what's a princess without her knight in shining armor?

(tags: @that-one-fangirl69 @boyfie-hater @miliswrld @pretty-sparkle-bomb @prettyinpikk @rengokuswife2 @unk0wn-us3rr @keylozinzazane @kanvis @rhas-writes @h3ll0-kitti @yuckiman @kovu-bunnbunn @teacakes06 )

#pleaseee don't wish my pillow hot it was actually very hot these past days #bakugo #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katuski #bakugo x you #katsuki x you #mha x you #bakugo drabble #bakugo oneshot #bakugo angst #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki x y/n #katsuki x reader

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starmocha · 2 months ago

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HELLO. MAY I INTEREST YOU IN SOME FALLEN ANGEL CALEB BRAINWORM

very much based on this previous post I had made lol

btw i'm also begging for an angel/devil au, but we're the devil he falls in love with and he gets cast out of heaven and i would totally write this if i was not juggling 82438238932 wips rn.....but we'll see i tend to do the most impulsive things ever

tagging some ppl who i feel like to enable my intrusive brainworms often <333 @solifloris @aeyumicore @deepspacenova @quiet-oracle @philosians

this is totally not based on all of the biblical references/symbolism surrounding Caleb

apple — symbolizes knowledge, but also temptation, sin, immortality. and as in the story of Adam and Eve in the Book of Genesis, it also represents the fall of man. Also known as the "forbidden fruit".

name — The name Caleb is of Hebrew origin, meaning wholehearted, faithful and dog-like. In the Old Testament, a follower of Moses named Caleb, was rewarded for his faithfulness and was one of the few to visit the Promised Land.

Caleb's love of flying and being in the sky — ...no angel reference here, no sirree.

Caleb returning to the main story after the...explosive...events of chapter four...I'm not saying it's a rebirth (which in a biblical sense could mean a number of things, including seeking forgiveness and salvation).

Caleb and MC both talking about keeping the other person to themself, in a world of their own.......could mean anything. Not like it's a direct reference to Adam and Eve only having each other in the Garden of Eden, their own paradise. Oh what's this, one of Caleb's theme songs is called "Weightless Paradise" ....what a coincidence.....

The report stating Caleb and MC are the optimal weapon for destroying one another...probably means nothing. Never mind the fact that Eve was also created for Adam from one of Adam's ribs.

And she is the one who persuades him to eat the forbidden fruit, setting in motion their exile from Eden.

Surely, the gratuitous back shots are not trying to make you think of wings, right.

It's probably just a coincidence that the back of Caleb's uniform looks like there's an emblem of wings. And oh, what's that, when he is hurt in battles, his uniform is torn the most in the back...not saying this is trying to depict his wings being mutilated and torn off. 🙂

But you should all absolutely read @eeriepromis analysis about seraphim for funsies.

Choosing to give Caleb the Evol to manipulate gravity was probably not intentional........not like he could make himself float almost like he is flying............

I'm sure this means absolutely nothing that in the third theme song Cosmic Encounter, Caleb and MC are both falling from the sky (the "heavens," if you will). 🙂 This probably has nothing to do with the image of him being cast out of Heaven and fallen from grace.

random lines that I am in no way inferring he is speaking like he is her guardian angel

"I'm Caleb. I'll always be by your side." — Main Story: Homecoming Wings, 1-4

"Lay a hand on her again, and I will kill you." — Main Story: Homecoming Wings, 1-9

"I will protect you." — Main Story: Homecoming Wings, 2-7

"No one can take me away from you." — Myths: Lucid Dream

"Then, can you carry a little of this sin, too? Don't leave me in this loneliness any longer." — Myths: Lucid Dream

"...When you held my hand that day for the first time, I knew I'd never get away from you." — Myths: Lucid Dream

"So, don't be afraid... No matter what happens, I'll be here for you." — Myths: Lucid Dream

"Maybe it's because... I love you a little more than you realize." — Myths: Lucid Dream

"But until that final moment, we'll always be together." — Myths: Lucid Dream

"Even if it's pain... As long as it's from you, I want it." — Memoria: Painful Signal

"Don't go... Don't leave me alone." — Memoria: Endless Summer

"A ruined world doesn't deserve you." — Memoria: Hidden Waves

"I want you to stay here. Stay with me." — Memoria: Hidden Waves

"Let me protect you... I can guarantee this will be the last time." — Bond: Rain's Embrace

"I won't lose! I have someone I must protect!" — Memoria: Deceptive Solitude

✨fallen angel Caleb myth pls✨

✨pretty pls fallen angel Caleb myth✨

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #lnds analysis #yes hi i will be yapping about this until they drop caleb's myth #fallen angel caleb myth pls #pretty pls fallen angel caleb myth

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ivesambrose · 1 month ago

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Did March feel heavy for anyone else? Did you have any breakthroughs as well?

Intending April is a kinder month for those who find this message 🍀

✨

are you ready to see what's ahead?

My personal tarot readings offer clarity, guidance, and insight tailored just for you. Whether you're seeking answers love, career, or personal growth.

Book your reading now and step into April with confidence.

DM me or email me at [email protected] and secure your spot!

Picture 1

For you,

April is a dance between clarity and longing,

Your mind is sharper than before, you're more decisive this month, you know what you want to plan for ahead, you can see things clearly in your mind and you're well aware that everything starts from that lovely mind of yours. You'll require less validation from others this month and it's likely because you're done looking for it. The April sun rises, bathing you in clarity and warmth. You want to actively seek joy and there is happiness here, but it seems as though you're rather restless as though you are looking past your blessings, searching for something more even though what you want is right in front of you.

You'll be blessed with healing connections, laughter, friendship, and shared moments that will pull you from solitude. And you will compelled to release what still weighs heavy on your heart. Because of you don't you'll find yourself unable to be in the present and enjoy your moments fully. Let go, but honor what it taught you. You'll be okay.

You'll also be finding yourself getting rooted in financial stability. Whether it be doing good in business, receiving help, sudden increase in wealth, new job etc Some of you might also feel like investing in something.

This month may be a mix of emotional highs and lows, mostly because you may not be used to things going your way so you question it.

What does April bring?

A reckoning. A reminder. A renewal. This is the month you learn that joy and sorrow can exist together and you can still thrive admist it all.

Picture 3

Picture 2

For you,

April is the bridge between dreaming and arriving.

You'll feel yourself being pulled to a certain place and you'll also begin to notice that what you have been waiting for is no longer distant. You'll find yourself being the center of attention at certain points of this month but you won't feel intimidated by it at such. You've been preparing for this, haven't you?

Your wishes take form, and faith finds proof.

Your rewards will be tangible. A seed planted begins to sprout; an opportunity, a job, a project, or stability finally takes shape. Is it overnight? Possible but even if it's slow, it's very certain. It's reliable. This month is more about you allowing yourself to have what you desire without conditioning yourself. Give yourself that assurance that what you want is already yours.

Your resolve and discipline might get tested. Old habits, temptations, or limiting beliefs may whisper, asking if you’re ready to break free. (Hint: you are) Some of you might overwhelm yourself with something you're passionate towards.

Eitherway, you'll be triumphant in what you do. A cycle completes, a lesson learned, a chapter closed. You are not who you once were. And you're glad, you're so very glad.

What does April bring?

A rising. A reckoning. A reward. This is the month you step into your power, unbound and unstoppable.

For you,

April feels like a sigh of relief.

The shifts are profound but will come through gently. You've braced enough storms. I think a lot of you are prioritising nervous system regulation his month too (maybe even opt for a spa day?)

April is a month of emotional renewal, a new beginning in love, self discovery, something serene that washes over you. Despite this, things will feel stable, not volatile. What grows now is steady, secure, and built to last.

The light at the end of the long void like tunnel seems to be visible now. April restores your faith, reminding you that better days are not just ahead but they are here. Some of you are leaving or have already left a place, person or circumstance. Some of you might actually preparing yourselves for a long travel ahead. Maybe you were manifesting a big relocation, a visa, a trip or simply a career where you travel and make a living too? This is something very specific to you. I think some of you might have chosen the second picture too. Your soul is searching for something that feels like a journey and coming home at the same time. You've been craving to collect memories and experiences that shape you. You'll have it.

And at the end of this journey? a heart full, a soul at peace, joy that feels like home. You're meant to have it all. Especially the love and relationships that you've been wishing for.

What does April bring?

A renewal. A release. A homecoming. This is the month you step away from what drains you and into what truly fulfills you.

#free readings #tarot community #divination community #pick a card #pac #pick a picture #monthly messages #ivesambrose

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siasthoughts · 1 month ago

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꩜ .ᐟ 𝖒𝖞 𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖎𝖘 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖘 ִ ࣪𖤐

── .✦ 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒𝐓!𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋 𝐱 𝐃𝐄𝐈𝐓𝐘!𝐅!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐔

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓: you're his dearest, no one can ever compare to you—his goddess. you're a deity worshipped for her heart, he worships you, devoted is an understatement. each drop of his blood would be in your name, and he's determined to prove his worth to you.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒: religious themes . blood/different forms of self-harm . obsession . guys don't hate me but this is also kinda inspired by the manhwa 'make him cry'... . f'ed up views of devotion . def ooc . short bcz idk how to go from there, give me ideas if yall want me to continue this one LAWWL

concept creds: @beechu-beechu and their beautiful art! the idea is so up my alley...

"my goddess," thwack, "my love for you," thwack, "goes far beyond the feeble words and monetary gifts of others," thwack, "you must... see that right?"

rafayel is on his knees as he gazes up at your statue, carved beautifully out of marble, perched up perfectly in the center of his personal altar in his sacristy, a flogger gripped tightly in his hands as sweat ran down in thin sheets across his body, and his back marked with the impacts of his faith.

his eyes were filled by nothing but pure admiration as he smiled weakly, the quiet moonlight sweeping across his features through the windows. he turned his head down toward his lap, his breathing uneven yet still controlled, "will you ever reward my efforts, my goddess?" he breathes out.

"just tell me what else you need," he looks back up at you, into the eyes of your sculpture, hoping to gauge any sort of response, "and you'll receive it without thought." his jaw tenses as he stands, picking up his robe off the floor, slipping it back over his shoulders.

"rafayel." he immediately turns back to your carving, he swears he just heard a voice. was it yours? he's never heard it, no one has, but every nerve in his body knew it was yours. "goddess?" he whispers under his breath, half of him not expecting any response back.

he stands there for a few moments, nothing. he chuckles bitterly to himself before looking away, dusting off his robe to head out of the sacristy. i'll be patient for you, my dear, he thinks as he clutched onto your scriptures. he blows out the final candles, stuffing the flogger into a locking cabinet under the altar. it housed other things that he... uses for your grace.

finally, he heads out of the sacristy, looking back at the main altar from the sanctuary, a small smile flickering on his face before leaving the church entirely.

he walks towards the church house, where all the clergies and church staff are open to stay. but most of the time, if not always, rafayel's alone. though he never minded, you were all he needed after all.

he stepped inside and locked the doors, he set the scripture on your mini altar filled with small carvings, offerings and portraits just to the right side of the entrance. his fingers lingering on the cover for few seconds before sliding off. not long after, his vision slowly fades to a vibrant red, then feeling liquid roll down his cheeks.

his heart quickens as he shoots his attention towards one of the bigger statuettes, coincidentally enough. your eyes dripped of blood too.

"anything?" a voice whispers from behind, to which he turns his head, to see nothing, yet he still replies, is it referring to his offer from earlier? "yes i'll be willing to heed your every wish." he responds, hoping that you will too this time. "are you asking for my vision, my goddess?" he asks calmly, open to the idea.

he then feels a cold presence gently place itself on his shoulders, "are you really here?" he murmurs, his hands balling into fists as he stares down at the ground, waiting for a sort of permission.

"do you want me to be?" "anything you'd want, my lady."

you sigh softly as he feels your cold fingers trail up his neck and tracing jaw, making him shiver, "i won't take your vision." you speak, not giving a direct response to his query, slowly, he feels your hands make its way to his back, his muscle tensing at the stinging pain of the pressure pressing against the bruises and wounds.

"i know what you do," you start,

"it is just my faith." he cuts in,

"yes, i am aware," you continue, "but does it really derive from faith or the manifestation of your desperation to have me?" you speak vaguely, "well, it seems you see faith and sacrifice as the same thing." you speak lowly.

he swallows a breath as he listens to your words, "is that not what you wish for?" he asks, his voice teetering on that desperation you speak of.

yet again, you dismissively ignore his question, "take off your robe for me." you mutter as he feels your hands slip away. "may i turn around?" he asks, his fingers working to undo the buttons of his robe, "you can, but don't be disappointed." you finally respond, your words rather bleak.

but how could he be disappointed? a mere glance at you would be enough for him to fall for you all over again. his heart pounds, feeling bits of sweat form on his forehead once more. he slowly turns around, nothing.

he lets out a staggered breath. "i told you to not be disappointed, didn't i?" the voice comes from behind him once more, his fingers tightening on the fabric. his shoulders slump ever so slightly, "my apologies for assuming your intentions, my lady." he breathes out as he finally, slowly rolls the fabric down his shoulders.

he doesn't know if you see it, or if you're even really there. a part of him thinks it really might just be his mind playing tricks and he's accepted it, but he couldn't help but to hope.

he winces, feeling a cold touch graze over the bruises, "you really want to see me, don't you?" you ask softly. "yes... i do, but my wishes are not your obligation, my lady." he replies, each word dripping with faithfulness as he tightly grips onto the cloth, trying to endure the pain of his wounds.

"do you think of yourself as higher than my other followers?" you ask, the question sending rafayel's mind into a swirl. do i say yes? will she applaud my acts? or no, because she'll think of me egotistical?

"rafayel," your voice cuts through his thoughts, "yes my goddess, i... i do think of myself higher." he finally replies, stammering as he says so. he wonders what you'd think.

he feels your hand fall away from his back, making his heart drop to his stomach. did you not like his answer? did his response disappoint you? or worse... do you hate him now? "m-my lady?" he stutters as he turns around, his gaze flickering from corner to corner.

idk how to continue this but i rly do since i love the idea smh...

#[💮] sia.#[📝] sia.#dead dove do not eat #x reader #fanfic #love and deepspace #lnds #lads #lnds rafayel #rafayel l&ds #l&ds rafayel #love and deepspace rafayel #lads rafayel x reader #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #lads rafayel

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eyesofthethrone · 4 months ago

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So inspired by @meanbossart and his art of his durge Drow I wrote about 2k speculating on Drow's relationship and feelings towards Orin the Red and after showing it to him in private I now feel comfortable posting it publicly. Thanks for sharing your art with us man and creating such an interesting character xD

TW: Detailed descriptions of canibalism, suicidal imagery

The congregation all spoke of it, some were quiet, while some were too enraptured in the murder-bliss of Father staunch their words that spilled like blood and blood from the blessed sacrificed.

His sister, his cousin, his priestess, how could he not look upon her except with awe? How his eyes must shine like maggots in the torchlight, gleaming, following her. Obvious to all that look, even the hollowed out eyes of the skulls, fly-licked and stinking, could see it.

All did wonder did he take her to bed, did his mouth fall down upon her in reverent worship? Did she take her brother and lord inside herself? Might there not be a chance that the divine blood might mingle and quicken and the faithful might empty their throats into golden goblets so that they might be raised in celebration of a new Spawn?

Crass. Ugly. Short-sighted creatures. Pathetically mortal despite their feverance. None could ever despoil the most beloved and blessed Orin. Her changeling form was a gift from the Father himself and he had decreed that his daughter would never be violated or deformed in such a way. A beautiful doll, their Father’s perfect puppet. It was why she was perfect, for was it not anathema to their Father to give life? She could not, would not, thus she was purely a vessel for murder.

Oh how he loved her, dressed her in jewels, combed and twisted her hair till it coiled about them like intestines from a split gut. Her smile was the edge of the blade, her voice was the music of the last whimpered gasp of the dying. It seemed profane to him that it was he who was Chosen, and not her, for surely he was a mugger’s cudgel to her executioner’s axe, but he knew not the mind of their Father, could only thank him in prayers that he had deigned to make his sister live at the same time as him. To make his sister love him as he loved her.

Not to say he didn’t dream of intimacy with his beloved Orin, but it went far, far deeper than the dreams and lusts of these base creatures who clustered and fawned and crumpled so easily, so boringly beneath his fingers.

When all was said and done, and their Father’s war was won, they would be the last two living creatures beneath a dead sun, the blood of the graciously murdered would swim about their ankles and the yawning nothing of the void beyond the powers of the slain gods would rush to claim them and there, in that triumphant moment of annihilation would he finally be as of one with her.

Alas, that the moment of death was so brief, he would have just a second of her that way, when he snapped her neck. Perhaps as the last god of the dead world his Father might stretch out that moment of time so that they both might enjoy it, when he murdered her. To spend eternity holding her in his arms as the light left her eyes and the breath gasped between her teeth would be a reward beyond all riches, and while he did not serve out of a desire for reward, if that did happen he would be more than satisfied.

If not, there were still yet other intimacies available to him. He dreamed about it. He imagined what it would be like to peel her skin from her flesh, layer after layer, as fine and as translucent as silk. He might wrap it around himself, cocoon himself in her so that every inch of him was caressed by her. How paltry the pedestrian thought of running fingers through hair or gripping thighs seemed in comparison.

Then with her tender lamb flesh beneath bare, then, oh then would he begin to know her as a lover might. He would run his tongue over every strand of sinew, carve the path of each individual cord into his own unworthy heart. The flesh would be wet and warm as he peeled back each individual layer, quiver in necrotic anticipation of each touch of his lips. The fluids spilling forth her he would suckled and lap at. Just imagining the noises that would make made his spin tingle and his loins ache.

The thought of where he would make the first bite on occasion paralysed him, so many wonderful, tender spots. Her throat, the thin, soft film of flesh before the tough gristle of her larynx. Was that not a perfect metaphor for her? At first glance she seemed so small and delicate, but she was hard and tough, gristle and bone.

Her breast? The softest of meat, full of shimmering fat and so tender it would melt between his teeth and slide down his gullet without him even needing to swallow. To devour her there, to take sustenance would be poetic in a way, to draw nourishment like a child never would.

(Not that he didn’t consider a child, in the darkest and deepest places within him. That their Father might somehow bless them with his seed, and her belly might grow where he could kiss and worship it. That he might be privileged to hold a daughter of Orin in his arms who gazed up at him with his own eyes. But such a thing was anathema to their Lord, so he only held those thoughts in the dark, hidden cracks within his very soul where the Blood of Bhaal might not reach.)

The belly was traditional, of course, a knife parting the delicate sack of her guts so that they might lunge out of her towards him, tangling him up in an embrace, her miles and miles of intestines wrapping around him and holding her closer to her than a woman had ever held a man. Now this, this was true intimacy, close to it. The breathless rapture of holding her where no one else had even seen, let alone touch. He imagined wrapping them around him like a girl with ribbons, wet, soft and supple. Sometimes he thought how wonderful it would be to choke himself with them, to hang himself from the hooks of the temple. The poetic symmetry spoke to the romantic in him, for her to kill him after he had killed her and be left for all eternity as a symbol for those who would follow after. Bhaalist couples would point to their remains and coo “Oh, the greatest of romances, the most ardent of lovers,” for what could be a more perfect devotion of love than to die together in that moment of bliss, a perfect moment that would last an eternity, a true blessing from their Father.

He never would, of course, because as poetic and fairy-tale as that would be, it would be disrespectful to her, to her death and her body and he worshipped her (not as he worshipped Father, of course. People could be so foolish when they said you could only devote yourself to one thing, as if love was finite and not a wellspring eternal in your throbbing meat-heart?)

For the truest expression of his devotion would be to consume her, to catch the edge of a sinew where it met the cartilage, between his teeth and gently, lovingly pull it from her bones. He would not be as crass as to use a knife or even his hands. Only with his kiss would she be defleshed, the long, arduous work of days, even months, but he would do it, he would do it for her. Swallow down every inch of her and hold her safe in his belly like a child, perhaps his gut would even swell up and become round and gravid? That he might place his hand upon it and feel her within him. He would cradle her, sing to her, dream of her, all those things that a mother might do with her unborn child. For such was the depth of his love for her that it moved beyond the common and mundane categories of mortals. Sister, mother, daughter, lover, it was all the same to him, to them.

Her meat would be sweet and lean, soft and easy to swallow, like lamb or veal. He would lick her bones clean of all specks of flesh, he especially looked forwards to the feeling of her eyeballs popping between his teeth and then running his tongue around the inside of the socket. Then her brain, her wonderful, clever, cunning mind, always scheming and plotting. He loved her mind and her thoughts like rot loved the damp. He pictured her seeping into him like mold in a cellar, little black dots swarming over his insides. Would he know her better, understand more once he had finished eating her brain?

The heart was cliche, but cliche for a reason. Before he had come to know his sister a little better and her preferences he had tried presenting her with the hearts of his murder victims like a cat with a broken bird. His beautiful, untouchable Orin had not understood the suggestions of his actions but had accepted the tokens as offerings to their Father. How could he not love her for that? For her clear-minded devotion to something greater than herself. There was so much to be admired in that. When he eventually drew her own heart from behind the lattice of her ribs he would show it just as much reverence.

Her tongue would be another delicacy, when she lived it was sharp and acidic and honest. He loved her mouth, her tongue, her words. Words were just pieces of your soul fleeing your body to try and crawl into others like carrion flies. If he ate her clever tongue would he consume her soul completely?

No, no, he was getting ahead of himself. Not yet, not that yet. First he would have to eat the difficult parts. Not even a drop of her blood would go to waste and that meant he would have to eat her hair, her beautiful, long hair that shimmered like gold in the moonlight, always wet and healthy from the blood that sprayed into it. It would be an ordeal to swallow it all down, he knew he would gag and choke, be forced to swallow down his own bile again and again from the texture but he would do it, he would do it for her, a sign of devotion.

But her bones, her lovely, graceful bones would be the real test. Were he less faithful, less devout he would snap the cartilage and suck the marrow from within but he would take all of her into himself. He could cheat by waiting for them to dry out where they would break apart easier but no, every second wasted, every moment he made her wait would be an outrage. His lips and mouth and throat would be torn open by the shards, they would churn in his belly like, tumbling over and over like stones till they were worn down by the acid, lacerating his insides in the meantime. The agony would be exquisite, each spasm a kiss from her. Perhaps the agony would make him wish for death, perhaps it would actually kill him? It would be poetic for her to kill him from the inside, burrow her bones through him like worms.

Once she was consumed, once he had fully taken her into his body, he would lay down in the bed he had once wished to share with her in the heart of their Father’s temple and hold her within himself. This was why Bhaal was the god supreme, why their Father would one day rule the cosmos as was his right, because what other god permitted such an expression of love like this. This, the most blessed and perfect of unions. His stomach would not swell but shrink, his lovely living in his gut would not be expressed out but absorbed within.

When his stomach was empty, their matrimony would be complete, he would have unified with her completely. Her flesh one with his flesh, her blood running through his veins. For what we eat nourishes us, becomes part of us. He pictured her body dissolving into him, strengthening him. He would never have to eat again he knew because their love, partnership, sibling-hood would be all the sustenance he would need for the final act. He would be privileged that she was going to be the last thing he ever tasted.

For once it was done, Father’s plan realised and he truly was the last living thing in the universe, he would lay down amid the blood and gore and the dead, take his dagger and with a single strike through his own heart commit the final murder and thus murder all of reality, where all would be united in oblivion. No past, no future, just that single shining moment where he was Orin and Orin was him and that would be all he would ever know.

It was beautiful, perfect, poetry, more transcendent than the dreams of lesser mortals who desired such carnality, who believed that a mere exchange of fluids was the ultimate expression of ardour. No vision, no imagination.

What could be better? Except perhaps if the roles were reversed?

Sometimes, in the dead of night, when even the rats and ghosts slept, he would creep over to where Orin lay to watch her sleep, and pray over her, pray that one day it would be she who would eat him.

#my post #my writing #bg3 #durge #orin the red #tw: cannibalism

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bunicate · 2 years ago

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⋆⁺₊❅⋆ 𐙚 ₊˚ BY YOUR SIDE . pierro x fem reader

warning ꒱ྀི incest. ddlg dynamics. daddy kink [ papa + dada ] . size kink. creampie. reader kinda being a litl brat / repost / unedited as always :p / wc ꒱ 2.5k / 18+ / ♡ + ↻ are rlly appreciated ! !

there’s the faintest, most desperate echo of a mewl that can be heard from outside the biggest room reserved for no one other than the first harbinger himself.

fourteen days he was away from you. fourteen days without your touch. fourteen days he was unable to see you. fourteen days without inhaling your scent. fourteen long, bitter, cold days pierro spent missing you and still, finally graced with your presence, he’s as composed as ever.

he leans until his back hits his chair, and he relaxes. with his half-empty wine glass discarded on a nearby tray, he eases himself down from his budding desire with deep and steady inhales and exhales. his eyes are clouded over with lust.

the level of patience pierro possessed was carefully crafted throughout the many years he’s been alive. his resilience has never been more clear than it is right now, as his daughter, whom he loves so dearly, clamored over him half-naked.

he found your struggle to be quite a show. chin resting on calloused fingers, he occasionally rubs the scruff of his stark white beard. It’s become habitual for you to crawl and seat yourself on his thick thighs. pouty and close to tears, your fingers claw at his polished suit to steady yourself.

he’s always been the one to take the lead, but he’s forfeited that control momentarily, allowing you to use him to your heart's content.

your chest bares from the looseness of your clothes, and his facade slips only slightly. your hips swivel clumsily, and his erect cock bounces off the plumpness of your butt. he releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

you raise your bottom higher, placing his cock right against your wet slit that stained the coarse hairs at the base of his shaft. his body tenses at the contact, his eyes zeroing in on the pretty sheen that coated his remarkable length.

“hnnn.”

a strangled moans escape when it skims over the surface of your twitchy button—a gentle caress with enough pressure to make your back arch.

it was difficult prepping yourself for the first time, but you refused his help. you were like him in so many ways. you’re a creature constantly chasing perfection. one attempt after the other until you’d be rewarded with what your efforts promised, but pierro just didn’t want to see you hurt.

“take it easy, little one.”

his hand cups the softness of your ass, lightly squeezing it. you shake your head. brows pulled together and lips trembling as the drag of your cunt wets him further.

he expected you to behave like this.

a recent conflict pulled him away longer than he expected, and he knows that in his absence, you were unsatisfied. your fingers are not nearly as thick and long as his to ease that ruminating ache between your legs, but he was here now to finally take over, and you wouldn’t let him.

holding your chin, he tilts your head up. you see the concern sewn into his mature features.

“I'm not going anywhere; you don’t need to rush.” it’s a very simple affirmation, but it did nothing to relieve your troubles.

‘liar’ you want to retort, but you choose to remain silent. the truth is, he couldn’t promise that. you knew he’d leave again, and each time you were never sure if he’d return. how you managed to have such little faith in a man who’s lived nearly half a millennia and witnessed such catastrophes was unheard of.

to others, he’s feared—untouchable, unscathed, a force to be reckoned with, but somehow a much smaller and weaker girl— his girl worries for him dearly. It's humorous, but he could never, in good faith, hold it against you. It's been too long since he’s felt the delicate touch of another and to be looked after with such care. he’d readily take as much as he could.

you put your hand on his shoulder, and the other grabs his cock by the thickest part as it comes to life in your palm. it’s warm and beads pre-cum that slowly drips, following the path of his most protruding vein. there’s a feeling that shoots through your body, and it’s all too familiar as you watch the milky drops descend.

you have to bite back another broken moan.

hovering over his dick, you cushion it right against your entrance, swaying from the slight loss of balance. finding your footing, you try once again to tuck him between your walls, but the leakiness of your cunt makes the head of his cock slip. your frustration was an understatement.

pierro watched you closely as you moved sloppily. stuck in a mulish state, you’d rather fumble instead of asking for his help.

“you’re going to hurt yourself, love,” he remarks. while aroused by the brief contact of skin, pierro remained humbled at your show of defiance.

you make a noise, brushing off his concern and rolling your shoulders to straighten up.

“don't care, ‘need to have you inside of me.”

you huff your chest every time his smooth tip rubs your slippery opening. tracing it against the silky folds of your cunt, they separate as you struggle to insert him. you begin to brace yourself. it only takes a few more shaky attempts until his cock finally penetrates with a swift and brutal plunge.

“hmmph—!”

you can’t stop twitching around him when he’s buried so deep. your head hangs back, and your bit lip is barely enough to keep the hiss at bay. no amount of rubbing against his thigh could ever prepare you for that piercing stretch that churned your insides. the stretch that forces your legs further apart and makes your eyes tighten in desperation.

your stomach flexes, and anxiety wrecks you. you breathe audibly, finding it in yourself to remain calm, but archons — you were a few thrusts from already cumming.

“do you need papa to help you ?”

his voice stirs you from concentration, and it borders on breaking.

pierro would be a liar if he said watching you take him didn’t bring a sense of triumph. riding him was no easy task. even after countless nights and all sorts of positions, his girth still proved to be a challenge, one that would take a lifetime for you to master, and that was one of the few things he could actually promise you, time.

but you ignore him and the concern in his tone. you’re a big girl, you don’t need his help. you’ll have all of him inside of you even without the wonderful burn of his fingers to help loosen your gummy walls.

you inhale slowly hoping that it will somehow allow the tension to subside and it does. it takes a minute, maybe two until the pressure feels comfortable. you’re still not quite all the way down, there’s another few centimeters left until he’s fully sheathed inside your walls. you’ve been resting your weight on your toes that dangled close to the floor and you know you should in fact take your time, but your body refuses to cooperate.

it's a wet plop from your thighs and ass meeting his groin when you force him in.

“h-hah—!“

pierro’s cock sharply hits your precious cervix and your eyes reel back into your skull. your daddy pats your leg encouragingly. even now he could barely fathom how such a small pussy could be so accommodating.

“there you go.”

inevitably, the praise still made your chest feel heavy. “that’s it, sweet girl.” that baritone voice made blood rush to your cheeks. lightheaded is what you felt. all the fire you once possessed turned into a lovesick, numbing feeling that left you unable to retain any air. especially when he adjusted his hips and his veiny cock bumped your cervix once more.

“ah— f-fuck!” you whine.

the hand on your thigh squeezes your softness as a warning.

“language.”

you're winded up so tight, afraid that if you moved an inch, you’d cum. the tears that brimmed your waterline fall.

“s-sorry papa.” you sniffle, “but it’s so deep, n’ I feel it stretching inside me.”

“does it hurt?" he hums. “would you like to stop?”

you shake your head profusely.

“no! please, I don’t wanna stop, not yet.”

unwilling to be separated from him, you lean on his chest. it’s warm and reminds you that you couldn’t be anywhere safer. slowly, you begin to ride his cock. a messy rhythm that did enough to please you.

his dick presses against your insides as your hips rotate in sloppy circles. your clit brushes against his skin with every move, pulling you closer to the end you missed so desperately.

you speed up, chasing that feeling selfishly until it grows and becomes too powerful to control.

“daddy . . .” you try to halt your hips, but you can’t stop the desperation. you settle for slowing down even more, but it only seems to drag the pleasure out further.

“I might make a mess” you mumble. you tuck yourself closer to his chest again to escape the burning flush of embarrassment.

pierro knows your body better than you do and even before your own realization, he was able to quickly assess your expression and feel how your cunt pulses around him. he understands what’s happening before you do.

“just focus on me. focus on papa.”

you nod.

it takes a moment to get the courage to move faster, but his cock nestling in your cunt couldn’t placate you. your humps pick up, and your thinking crumbles to know people stood less than 10 feet away, walking past the room. knowing they could possibly be hearing the moist noises of your cunt while you fucked him sloppily. the nervousness wasn't present; instead, a sweltering, mind-breaking urge grew. one that turns your stomach into knots and makes your your knees dig into his hips

“let it out, my dear.”

your legs lock around him, and a disgruntled groan leaves his lips as your pussy clenches.

“daddy. ” your nails scratch him, but he doesn’t flinch nor shy away. his hardened skin from years of ruthless battles could surely withstand the dig of his daughter's nails.

with a petulant whine and submissive arch of your back, your pillowy breasts block his vision while you seize around him. clenching and unclenching, arousal streams down his massive cock and sprays his front in spurts. your hand comes to rub at your clit to ride out the addicting high.

pierro could only watch in awe. how quick and easily you came to make his shaft throb to the beat of dull and erratic twinges.

“pretty girl, you’re going to make this old man faint.”

he presses a kiss on your nipple, holding you while your cunt continues to milk him. he hasn’t yet reached his own high and still he makes no effort to rush your come down. he’s far from a selfish lover, but that was something that came naturally as it’s his job as your father to make sure you are pleased in all aspects.

pierro’s cock remained snuggled inside of you. he pressed light kisses on your skin, as your breathing slows. before you can lose yourself in it, the scratch of his beard makes you pull away. turning up your nose, you make a noise of disapproval.

“you need to shave, daddy.”

he rubs his chin to feel his beard himself. it has been a while since he’s given it a trim. “you don’t like it?”

you take a second to think, staring at the thick gray covering the lower half of his face. “that depends. can I shave it for you?”

his eyes widen a bit, and his head turns away. “that’s . . . dangerous.”

you frown. “then no, I don’t like it.”

pierro laughs, and he rubs the sides of his face against your soft cheek, the hair of his beard uncomfortably prickling your face.

“w-what, what are you doing?” the scratches against your face mushed you two closer. his nose and lips poking you until your lips clumsily collide.

“papa, stop!” giggling, you push him away, but he holds you still. the kiss is uncoordinated at first because of your laughs, but he doesn’t mind it. one peck and then another until your lips are interlocked, moving at a slow pace that manages to steal your breath.

he groans when you move closer, and he guides your hips, hoping to drag more moans out for the rest of the night. feeling his cock throb, you remember he didn’t finish, but it didn’t take long to transition from the playful atmosphere to what it was once prior. the arousal was now thick in the air, weighing you down into submission.

your father picks you up with ease and fucks you like a toy. rough hands resting on your hips drag you up and down on his cock. the schlick schlick of his cum-coated length, plunging so deeply until it kisses your womb.

“cum inside me, d-dada, use me. use me to make you cum.”

“keep talking like that, baby; daddy is so close.” your pussy puffs from his slams. how something so small can manage to swallow his sheer size amazes him. balls slap against your ass, his grip on your body is tight, digging into you, and such a display of strength it was.

“y’r so deep. . my cunny was made for you.” the words are uttered in pauses from the force of his motioning hips. your tits point towards the ceiling—your nipples, perked and moist from his eager mouth, bounce, and the sight makes any remaining coherent thought disperse.

“you’re going to take every last drop of my seed.” it’s not a question but a demand, and like you were taught, you pleasantly comply.

“yes, daddy.” the veins in his arm are pretty and decorative. you look at his flexing muscles the way you’d look at a painting. eyes, absorbing the details that marked his brown skin. sweat trailing down his massive frame.

you want to kiss him, but your wrists are bound by his hand. maybe they’ll bruise later, but it’s not a concern of yours, you only want to see the man above reach his completion.

“make it so full with your cum until it leaks out of my little pussy,” you say barely a whisper, but the effect on him is still the same.

a gruff growl tumbles from his mouth, and his grip grows tighter.

“I'm gonna give it to you. daddy is going to fucking breed you, darling.” he uses your body to pump his cock, losing himself to the massaging of your tight walls.

his cock swells inside your creamy pussy, and then a stream of cum jets out. milky ribbons plugging you to the brim until it spills from the sides.

“ah–thaaat’s it. that’s my little girl .” he grunts. squeezing you tightly, the sound of his mess squelching in the now warm room could be heard. countless nights have ended with him buried in you, and still, your cunt managed to make him feel like a young man.

he rests his head back and swallows audibly to catch himself. you watch him in amusement at his sudden breathlessness.

“just give. . . *whew* papa a minute,” he sighs.

#will edit dis tmrw #૮꒰ ๑´ତ `๑ ꒱ྀིა #tw:incest #pierro x reader smut #pierro x you #pierro x reader #pierro smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact #female reader

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artdcnaldson · 1 year ago

Note

the ONLYYYY thing on my mind right now is what happened (or didn’t happen 😔) UNDER THAT BLANKET. can’t even imagine the energy in that room. i need a prequel horrendously badly cat 😭

Three’s Company || Art Donaldson x Reader x Patrick Zweig

Rating: E (18+)

Notes: Patrick POV, exhibitionism, very tame descriptions of fingering, sexual fantasies, masturbation

Word Count: 841

Summary: In the Fall of 2006, Patrick just wants to watch a movie with his best friend. Art, unfortunately, gets distracted. Then Patrick gets very distracted.

A/N: Mic…. This was supposed to be short 😭😭😭 but I knew I had to feed you 🩵🩵

Requests are OPEN

Patrick wasn’t paying attention to a single damn thing happening in the movie, and would’ve liked to, considering he was the one who paid the money to rent it from Blockbuster.

He was having a very hard time focusing on Channing Tatum playing soccer when you were panting beside him, hand fisted into the blanket that was covering you and Art.

Your thigh shifted, bumping against his, and you offered a sweet apology that was more of a squeak.

Art was grinning, looking like the cat who got the fucking cream while his hand moved beneath the blanket, finding a home between your thighs. Patrick couldn’t look at him, because making eye contact with Art meant acknowledging that he knew what was going on.

Art was probably doing it on purpose— the fucker. Maybe he was mad that Patrick got to have Tashi, and was making a point about having something the other person can’t. But Patrick wasn’t going around fingerfucking Tashi while Art tried to watch a movie, was he?

“I can’t fucking hear,” Patrick snapped finally, hoping if he turned up the volume on the laptop, it might cover the feeble attempts you were making to stifle pretty gasps and sighs.

He mashed the buttons on the laptop, maybe a little too hard in his urgency, but the volume spiked, barely loud enough for him to force his brain to tune you and Art out.

You leaned into Art’s shoulder, muffling your noises in the junction of his neck.

“What? You don’t like the movie?” Art teased. He pressed his lips to the crown of your head, and it was then that Patrick finally met Art’s gaze.

That smug motherfucker.

He must’ve done something particularly nice with his fingers, because a low moan slipped from your lips that you tried to pass off as… fuck if Patrick knew. It had to have been your first attempts at exhibitionism, because both of you were awful at it.

Art grinned, tilting your face to eye level. “Should we turn it off and do something else?”

“No!” You piped up quickly, eyes wide and glossy.

Patrick tried his best to conceal his annoyance and focus on the movie as Art pulled you closer and closer to the brink. Which was hard, because all of those little noises and the feel of your warm body beside him was enough to make anyone go fucking crazy.

He’d been faithful, even if Art was dubious. He hadn’t stepped out on Tashi— he would probably have a moment of clarity in some foreign country or a shitty bumfuck country club that he loved Tashi.

But it was like Art wanted him to break.

Your body was trembling, breath coming in shaky pants from your pretty, open mouth.

If things were different, he would’ve kissed you. Licked right into your mouth, let his hands wander.

Finish her off, Donaldson.

Art would have the first set, but Patrick could rally. He could always make you fall apart with his mouth. Better yet, he’d fuck you and make Art sit there like a asshole watching the goddamn movie Patrick had rented.

Art wouldn’t like it. He doesn’t like feeling left out. Whatever, Patrick would let you swallow Art‘s cock down your throat as a reward for him being so fucking ballsy in the first place.

A muffled squeak snapped him back to reality. You were panting, giggling softly in the juncture of Art’s shoulder.

Art’s cheeks were pink and flushed, and he wore a smug grin on his lips before he slipped the fingers that had just been buried inside of your pussy between his full lips. And then, like it hadn’t even happened, he reached over and grabbed his Gatorade from the nightstand. Patrick watched as he took a long drink, throat bobbing, and felt like he was going insane.

“What’s happening?” You asked, leaning over to whisper in Patrick’s ear. “I totally zoned out.”

Patrick stood suddenly and went for the door, hyper aware of his cock straining against his jeans. “Start it over, I’m gonna go smoke.”

He made it halfway to the door before Art spoke up. “Patrick?”

His voice was strained. “Yeah?”

“You left your pack.” Art was smug as he handed Patrick his pack of cigarettes— his fingertips still spit-slick when they grazed his wrist.

There was a silent exchange then. An I-Know and an I-Know-You-Know-and-I-Know-You’re-Hard. Patrick almost scowled as he snatched the cigarettes out of Art’s hands and darted out of the room.

He probably should’ve smoked. It would’ve been smarter than… well, anything else running through his brain. He settled on the shared dorm bathroom, a thin curtain of privacy in a mildly molded shower, and a spit slick hand working himself to completion.

Then a smoke.

Ten minutes later, he walked back into Art’s dorm and you smiled sweetly over at him. He sat back down, stole the popcorn from your lap, and glared at Art for good measure.

Art’s laughter made him forgive him for the whole thing anyway.

Thank you for reading!! Hope you enjoyed 🩵 let me know what you think + any other requests in the changeover universe 😚🩵

#challengers 2024 #patrick zweig fanfic #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig #art donaldson fanfic #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #challengers fanfic #challengers x reader #my writing

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jweekgoji · 4 months ago

Note

iLOVE your works 💗💗💗 a sequel to your most recent would be amazing…

maybe sentinel and starscream come at a close tie so they both get a special treat~…

Sentinel/Prime!Reader/Starscream [TFO]

tw: nsf//w (minors, don't read please), power imbalance, jealousy, competitive behavior, slight posessive behavior, master/subordinate relationships. word count: 1,4k additional tags: Prime!Reader, cybertronian!readr, gender-neutral!reader (but they have valve in this one), double valve penetration, valveplug, threesome, rivalry between Starscream and Sentinel, pre-TFO events, sub!reader, dom!Sentinel, dom!Starscream. a/n: I will forever not stop making sentinel the most pathetic one in this duo. thank you for your request~

Ever since that blessed day, you can't help, but thank Alchemist for the idea he once gave you.

There was no doubt that ever since you had confronted two of the most arrogant mechs you had ever seen in your entire life, you now finally had a chance to have some rest.

The only thing left to do was to lazily keep track of the score, watching as these two faithfully carried out your every slightest errand, eagerly awaiting their reward like faithful dogs.

'One point in Starscream's favor, two in Sentinel's favor...Six points for Starscream, five for Sentinel....'

All it took was to sit in your comfy office, minding your own business while your two assistants ran back and forth, handling your assignments.

Some of these were extremely important; some were just dusting at the bottom of the list, waiting in the dark for their time. Just for those types of occasions, sometimes it's nice to have someone like Starscream and Sentinel.

You could mark the one's success in your notes, and at the same minute, the other would burst in, immediately taking all of your attention away. Such a harmless competition, you didn't even specify what exactly you could offer them for their hard work, but the barely disguised implication in your tone left not that much room for guessing.

Until...

“Congratulations, you have an equal number of points,” you announced, an easy, almost perfect smile on your face, the one you always wear in public.

“There can't be-” Starscream begins, until he is interrupted by Sentinel.

“With all due respect, but there's definitely some kind of mistake here,” he gets in front of Starscream, an almost offended look on his face. Him? On equal score with Starscream? That sounds like a very personal insult.

The member of the high guard only huffs in frustration and shoves the blue-and-gold bot forcibly aside, almost pushing him down to the floor.

“You should do a recount. One has to be the winner,” the jet crosses his servos over his chassis, pede tapping lightly against the floor in a barely concealed display of anger.

“Someone like me, obviously,” Sentinel sneers, his servo settling down at the center of his chassis as if trying to emphasize the sincerity of his words. “I am your advisor, after all, no wonder I'm better at dealing with your errands.”

Your optics only flicker between Starscream and Sentinel, silently observing their conflict. You would probably laugh at this if you hadn't had to endure it for many, many cycles.

“There is no mistake here, my calculations are correct,” you say simply, placing your servos on the surface of your desk. “However, I am not satisfied with the quality of your work. You will still have a chance to...prove yourself, one last time.”

Who knew that your seemingly innocuous game, which was supposed to resolve what seemed to be...an inexhaustible conflict between your two subordinates, could lead to more than unexpected consequences?

You'd be lying if you said you didn't feel an ounce of pleasure in this arrangement.

“Can't you stop twitching for just one minute? You are getting in the way,” Starscream hissed softly, throwing a sharp glare in his rival's direction.

“It's not my fault you're taking up...ngh- so much space,” Sentinel groans, blue optics flickering slightly at the momentary shock of pleasure that runs along his spine.

Your poor, poor advisor can't help but let out another shameless moan as he barely thrusts forward, the tip of his spike pressing against Starscream's own, rooted deep inside you.

“If you have any protests, you can always leave,” the jet hummed. His servos tightened their hold on your thighs, spreading them further apart to make a room for two.

Sentinel's golden wings bristled at these words, and soon after, he leaned closer to you, only to start bickering with the other mech right behind your shoulder. Oh, the sheer audacity!

“Like I would,” Sentinel purred, almost in spite of the leader of the high guard. “As if I can trust you how to properly care for our dear Prime over here.”

That arrogant, self-centered bastard, how ironic— if only you weren't there, Starscream would have wiped that smirk off his faceplate this instant.

“Are you going to do something already?” you, once again, have to be between the two mechs, both literally and figuratively now. “I'll fall into recharge faster, unless one of you actually starts moving.”

That commanding, demanding voice of yours, the one you use to remind them that despite how intimate and vulnerable the position you all are in, you're still a Prime. Their leader.

Until you feel both of their spikes twitching inside you, a light blue blush spreads all over the cheek plates. Primus, help you with these two. You can't even boss around your own subordinates without them getting head over heels for you, and here you thought that would have a negative effect on them.

But are you really that surprised?

Starscream is first to assist your orders, as he bowed his head, close enough to plant a lingering kiss on your neck, teasing the sensitive surface. It's best to focus on your needs now, rather than that too pleased with himself advisor that keeps giving him challenging glances.

“I bet I can satisfy our Prime better than you do, Starscream,” words thrown so carelessly, only pushed the never-ending conflict back to the surface.

To keep his own words, Sentinel pushes his hips forward, igniting a soft gasp from you. Having both of them together inside you was certainly a new experience. If your humble advisor lacked the length that the high guard had, Sentinel had the girth, stretching your inner walls with every single slow thrust.

Starscream on the contrary, compensates for everything that Sentinel couldn't give; with the combination of a consistent feeling of fullness, his spike easily presses against a spot deep inside that makes you see stars.

“Like you ever satisfied them for once,” Starscream snapped back, the red optics dangerously glowing in the poorly lit quarters.

It takes time, at first, for both of them to finally find the pace that actually lets them move without bothering the other. One thrusts in, then pulls out, then for the other to do the same.

How embarrassing, utterly disgusting, even, the both mechs keep thinking. Even such a short moment of pleasure and intimacy leaves Starscream mentally gagging at the feeling, with Sentinel having pretty much the same thoughts.

Only briefly, for a short moment, they cooperate to push together in one time, both spikes rubbing against each other in the tightness of your valve.

The looks of embarrassment and awkwardness are totally worth it, you believe; maybe that will teach them not to cross each other's paths anytime soon, instead of fighting over your attention like sparklings.

Frag, you hiss through gritted teeth; no matter how much they may annoy you with their constant quarrels, they're pretty damn good at working together, sometimes. Maybe you need to organize this more often, just to relax and have a break in their company, which is... a rarity.

The constant stimulation is almost too much to bear, thoughts are too hard to concentrate on, and you barely pay attention to them, as you faintly hear them insulting each other. Primus knows how much they had done it for today.

Finally, you reach for both of them, grasping Sentinel's chin with one servo, bringing him closer, while the other servo gently tilts Starscream's head down to meet your lips, releasing all the buildup of tension in a single, lengthy, hungry kiss.

Sentinel can be heard practically whining at the sight, begging for the same lovely affection you just had to give his enemy right in front of him, only for you to kiss the needy advisor in return.

As your own overload approaches quickly, your optics begin to dim, and you can barely hold back anymore. That delicious tightening of your valve around the both spikes makes Starscream and Sentinel hold back, just in order not to overload from that sensation alone.

Slowly, you tilt Sentinel's chin slightly back, leaving your advisor panting heavily, glossa out, desperately trying to catch his own breath, and cool down the overheating frame. The soft huffs and puffs of Starscream don't go unnoticed by you, no matter how hard he tries to look all calm and collected behind you.

“I think...I need another round to sum up the scores.”

#transformers x reader #transformers one x reader #sentinel prime x reader #starscream x reader

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plussizeficchick · 2 years ago

Text

Like That | Sleazy Alpha!Kirishima x Chubby!Reader

Warnings: Dubcon(blackmailing)Cunnilingus, P in V, breeding kink, predator/prey kink(Kiri likes the chase😉)

Summary; Reader’s been keeping a secret from her fellow classmates, except Kirishima’s figured it out. You know what they say, when life gives you lemons

“-gonna be soo cute! Just you, hey! Are you even listening to me?!” Kirishima mentally rolls his eyes before turning to face the omega that was talking his ear off. “Sorry, what was that?” He asked. He had a way of disarming people, big glassy eyes, a cute little pout and the person is putty in his hands.

The omega chirps, flustered by the look he gives her before batting her eyelashes, the sight quite literally making Kirishima want to throw up. She giggles and the noise grates on his ears. “I said that I’m excited for the party after you guys win the game. My outfit’s going to be really cute.” She winks and Kirishima knows what she’s implying.

She thinks that by the end of the night she’ll get in his pants but he knows better. He has only one omega on his mind, one that he knows was made for him specifically.

You thought you’d hidden it well, and if he wasn’t a prime alpha you may have even gotten away with it, but his senses were stronger than the average one and your scent made his mouth water.

He knew why you presented yourself as beta, he honestly couldn’t fault you. Prime omegas were extremely rare, so with you being the only one on campus, it would’ve caused quite a stir.

That was the main reason he was even talking to this girl. He’d seen you around her and he was hoping to get an in to talk to you. “Sounds nice, you bringing any friends?” She goes on to list a bunch of names that he doesn’t care to know, only recognizing his heart skipping a beat at the mention of your name. Jackpot.

— —

This was not your kind of party. It was overly crowded, way too many people to fit inside the enclosed space, but that wasn’t your main focus. You were on a mission.

Your mission: Avoid Eijiro Kirishima.

He made you extremely nervous. His predatory gaze always somehow on you, as if he’s studying you. As if he knows something.

You have a feeling he knows what you really are, his senses as a prime alpha more heightened, so you’d understand if he knew.

But that was just all the more reason to avoid him.

You thought you were doing pretty well, trying your best to enjoy your university’s big win, but then you come to see Kirishima standing in the far corner of the room, nursing a drink with a girl by his side, failing miserably at flirting.

His eyes are everywhere but her, and he’s barely giving her a response. And if that’s not the worst of it, as soon as he catches sight of you in the tight bodycon dress you have on, he’s making a beeline towards you, cutting her off mid sentence. You turn to leave, hoping that the sea of bodies will help him lose track of you. You lose faith however, when you feel his warm, calloused hands grip your arm, turning you to face him.

“Hey, pretty girl. I was hoping to see you here.” He murmurs softly in your ear. You feel a shiver run down your spine at the close proximity. You quirk a brow, “Oh really? And to what do I owe the pleasure?” You answer sarcastically.

Kirishima takes a moment to look you up and down, drinking in the sight of your dress hugging your curves deliciously, the thought of finally getting to peel away the small piece of fabric enough to get him hard. “I was thinking that since we won the championships, maybe you’d want to give me a little reward.” He says, pushing a bit of your hair behind your ear. “I mean, wouldn’t it be a real tragedy if all these alphas were to somehow find out you were a prime omega?” He smirks at the shock that etches onto your face.

He wouldn’t.

“You wouldn’t.” You practically hiss. He just gives you a smug grin, hands up in mock surrender before leaning directly into your face, “I’m not saying I would. I’m just saying it’d be a real shame if word got around and no one could protect you if something were to happen.” You frown at what he was implying, but what other choice do you have? If you didn’t, alphas were going to salivate anytime you crossed paths and omegas would feel threatened, especially those mated. And he knew that. “What do you say, omega? Wanna get out of here?” He grins, his sharp teeth glinting in the light.

He would.

— —

As soon as Kirishima got you into his room, he was all over you. The scent blockers that you thought you’d so strategically hidden were ripped off without hesitation, Kirishima burrowing his nose right into your scent gland. He groans at the smell, a mix of honey and cinnamon.

He licks at your scent gland, releasing pheromones that will hopefully push you into heat.

He pulls away slightly to get a good look at you, tweaking your nipples through your top and he notices the slight rubbing in your thighs. You were just too cute.

He leans into you, nipping at your neck. “Aw, what’s wrong baby? Need me? Need your big, strong alpha to make it better, hm? Talk to me.” You whine at his words, the feel of his teeth grazing your scent gland about to send you into a frenzy. When did it get so hot? “Please, Eiji.” You practically beg, but that’s not enough for Kirishima, no. He wants you to need him.

He tsks and gives a slight shake of his head before pulling away from you slightly. You whine at the loss of body heat but Kirishima is quick to shut that down with a searing kiss, tongue swirling with yours before sucking and nipping at your bottom lip. “You need me, baby. Know you do. Jus’ wanna hear you say it.” He whispers into your mouth.

How did you end up like this? He had practically blackmailed you, threatened to expose your secret and throw you into the lion’s den, yet you’re seriously aching to get on your knees for him. Ready to give him anything he wants.

“Need you, Eiji. Need you so fucking bad.” You mewl into his neck, sucking hickies into his scent gland. Kirishima groans at your neediness, ready to devour you completely. “Yeah?” He asks, and you nod vigorously. You don’t know why, but you feel the heat intensifying. And the waves of arousal feel much more profound than usual.

Kirishima seems to notice your confusion, cock stirring in his jeans. You really have no idea how this works do you? “What’s wrong, babe?” He asks you with faux concern. “Heat about to break?” He grins wolfishly.

You feel your stomach fall to your ass.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.” He says, peeling away at his clothes. “Well, I’ll try anyway.” He chuckles.

The sight of his rock hard abs and muscles has your panties soaking and the way he’s looking at you, like you're a cute, chunky bunny ready to be eaten has your heart skipping beats.

“Well?” Kirishima gestures to your clothes, wanting more than anything to rip them off your body. “Not gonna make me wait, are you?” He asks, stroking the length of his cock. You immediately shimmy out of your clothes, your eyes trained on the motion of his hand. He has the prettiest dick you think you’ve ever seen. It’s heavy, the tip is a nice shade of pink, and it’s drooling pre and you want nothing more than to feel the weight of it against your tongue, but it seems like Kiri has a different idea.

“Next time, baby. Right now,” He hoists you up as if you weigh nothing, and honestly, you probably don’t to him, and he unceremoniously drops you on his bed. His hands find purchase on your thighs, it being one of his favorite things about you. “I need to taste you. You gonna let me, hm? Gonna let me make you cum for me?” He mumbles into the skin, and you know you're done for.

“Please, Eiji. Please make me cum.” You beg, tears welling up in your eyes. The sight has Kirishima groaning. He wants to ruin you.

He spreads your pussy lips apart, running a finger along your slick before sucking the finger into his mouth, moaning at the taste. That only seems to encourage him to drink right from the source. Before you know it, he’s pushing your thighs to your chest and is sucking your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking over the bud in rhythmic strokes. You gasp at the feeling, nobody ever eating you out with such vigor before. He’s moaning into your cunt, lapping up as much of your juices as he can but it’s just not enough! He needs more.

He reaches one hand down and rubs it through your slick before pressing a finger inside. You moan, your cunt clenching around the digit while trying to ignore the embarrassing shlick! sound your cunt is making.

It doesn’t take long before Kirishima pulls an orgasm from you and you barely have time to recover before the second one rips through you.

You didn’t even realize he’d come up until you felt his lips against yours and the head of his cock pressing against your entrance.

You gasp as he stuffs his full length in one go, the tip rubbing against your g-spot deliciously with every snap of his hips.

It feels so good, almost too good, the way he’s grinding his pubic bone against you, and when he rubs your clit in tandem with his thrusts, you know you’re a goner.

You’re gushing around his cock, a lewd squelch sound being made every time his hips snap into yours and you’re barely able to form a sentence. “Feel good, baby? Fuck, your pussy feels s’good. S’good to me, baby. So. Fucking Good. Gonna knot you. Fill you up with my pups. Y’want that, baby? Say “yes, daddy.”” Emphasizing his words with each vicious thrust.

He’s fucking into you with vigor, chasing after his own orgasm and at the same time you both reach your climax, your cunt spasming around his pulsing cock as he shoots load, after load into your abused cunt. He’s pawing at your body, the feeling of the soft, doughy flesh somehow intensifying his orgasm.

You cry out, your plush stomach flexing as you feel all your muscles going taut as your orgasm washes over you. Kirishima works you both through it, laying sweet kisses along your neck and chest before pressing one to your lips and cheek as you both come down from your high. You giggle at his softness, knowing he couldn’t keep the act up for much longer.

“Kiriii.” You whine as he blows raspberries into your neck. “(Y/NNNNN).” He mocks back, before pressing more kisses to your face. “We need to shower.” You pout, the sight making him fall deeper in love with you. He sighs, snuggling further into you, “But whyyy, we’re just gonna do it all over again and you smell like me.” He pouts back and neither one of you can help but bust out laughing. “Alright, alright. I’ll get the bath started. You want cookies?” “You have my favorites?” You ask, perking up at the sound of your favorite snack. “Don’t I always?” He smirks. He is your alpha after all.

— —

Taglist: @xogabbiexo @kinq-sleazee @dabilovesme @sintiva @blkchxrryblyss @tenyaiidasslut @luna-indigoduh @bookwormsenpai @bl--ankhaeji @thicksimpx @namjoonswifeyy @nasty-quillz @haikyutiehoe @musicisme333 @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @celi-xxmoon

#x chubby reader #chubby reader #kirishima x chubby reader #bnha x chubby reader #anime x chubby reader #mha x chubby reader #x black!reader #kirishima x black reader #bnha x black reader #x black reader #kirishima x reader #anime x reader #eijiro kirishima x chubby reader #eijiro kirishima x black reader #x reader

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minicookiedemonx · 3 months ago

Text

I’m going to be posting all my stories on my page as well!

Hi guys, it's mini back with another Gojo fanfic!! This one is more up my alleys in terms of what I am into. So I hope you guys enjoy! I present to you.

DEFYING GOJO; A Tale of Dominance and Desire

Summary: Gojo and the femreader are a couple; Despite the female reader initial defiance, you quickly becomes enthralled by his expert touch and commanding presence. As their passion intensifies, your is pushed to the brink of submission and back again, discovering the thrill of being dominated by the man who can bring you to the edge of pleasure and pain.

Warnings: BDSM, borderline CNC, toy play, edging, slapping, choking, hair pulling, degradation kink, teasing, fingering, brat kink

Word count: 4k

You never intended to let things escalate as they did, but you couldn't help it. The evening's events led you to sit in Gojo's opulent car, with his faithful chauffeur driving you home. You were all alone. You gazed out the window as the city lights merged into a stunning mesh; you could admit that you were more than a little tipsy.

You began to replay the events of the night over and over in your mind, and it was utterly tantalizing.

It was a formal ball hosted by the finance company Gojo worked for, attended by many high-profile clients. While Gojo had always enjoyed public play, tonight was important. Networking was crucial for the company's survival.

And you might have been selfish tonight, prioritizing your erotic pleasures over the company's interests. To be honest, you couldn't care less, but it meant something to Gojo. A part of you felt guilty, while a larger, more sensitive part of you yearned for the punishment that would inevitably follow your reckless decisions.

You teased, taunted, and maybe even flirted with one or two patrons, but you knew what you were doing. No matter how much you blamed the alcohol as a feeble excuse to deflect Gojo's warnings, it was all on you. "Get in the car. Go home. We'll discuss this when I get back," Gojo said sternly, his anger barely concealed beneath his authoritative commands.

As you recalled the night's events and fantasized about all the different ways you could be punished, your phone rang. You picked it up, and Gojo's contact information lit up your screen in the dark car, casting a pale glow on your face. You smirked. No matter how much he disciplined you, you couldn't help but misbehave.

You let the phone ring a few more times, savoring each passing moment that made Gojo's blood pressure rise. Finally, you decided to answer. "Hello," you answered innocently. At first, Gojo didn't say anything; you only heard his breathing, as if he was trying to maintain control. You could hear voices in the background, indicating that Gojo hadn't left the ball yet.

"When I get home, you better be on your fucking knees. And naked," he growled before hanging up, leaving you breathless and eager.

You pondered whether you would follow his instructions or not. Submitting would be beneficial in the long run and might even lead to a reward. But in Gojo's unpredictable state, he could devise a series of punishments that would leave you both blissful and in pain, a perfect storm. As the chauffeur pulled up to your elegant home, you stepped out of the car, unable to ignore the fact that your panties were soaked through.

After entering the house, you pampered yourself with skincare, lotion, and oils. You styled your hair naturally yet presentably and contemplated your plan of action. Would you submit or disobey? You chose the more scandalous option.

You picked out a casual cropped tank top that accentuated your breasts and tight short-shorts that did the same for your rear. No panties, of course. You sat on your bed, flipping through one of your recent reads, not paying much attention. Your phone buzzed beside you, displaying a notification with Gojo's text. "Be ready for me. I'll be home in 20." You smiled at the screen before setting your phone back down, not even bothering to reply.

That would really infuriate him.

As you continued to read, you heard the front door unlock, open, and close with a bang downstairs. You loved it when he was angry; that's when he fucked you the best.

You heard his footsteps pause at the foot of the stairs, probably realizing that you had disobeyed him. You would have given anything to see the look on his face right now. Then, you heard his footsteps ascend the stairs, heavy with each step. You continued to read, pretending to be unaffected by his intoxicating presence.

Gojo burst through the door, and your eyes met his, making it evident that he was livid. His brows knitted together, and his lips slightly parted as he panted, as if every primal instinct within him was about to break free. "You were supposed to obey my commands. You should have been naked, kneeling before me, but instead, here you are, being defiant."

He took slow, deliberate steps toward the foot of the bed. By now, you had set your book aside, your back pressed against the bed frame, knees drawn to your chest. Your arms wrapped around your knees as you looked at him, mischief lurking beneath your gaze.

"What made you think I'd listen to you?" you challenged, "It's not like you own me or something." You rolled your eyes, and when they returned to Gojo, the fierceness in his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. He reached forward and swiftly pulled you down to the edge of the bed by your legs. Suddenly, he was on top of you.

His body pressed against yours, the heat emanating from him, and his pheromones filled your senses, driving you wild. He leaned in close enough for your lips to nearly touch, his soft white hair falling around his face as his piercing ice-blue eyes held you captive.

"On the contrary, I own every part of you," he murmured, his thumb tracing your lips, "Your lips," then trailing down to the valley between your breasts. "Your breasts," his fingers continued to glide over every area of your body he claimed. "Your pussy," but before he could reach your aching core, his grip shifted to the back of your head. He grabbed your hair with one hand, lifting your body to sit on the edge of the bed.

As he held tightly to your hair at the back of your head, he brought his face level with yours. "And it's about time you fucking understood that." With that, he used your hair to guide you to stand up. He released his grip before stepping back, turning to face you as he approached his favorite leather chair.

Once he reached it, he turned to face you, sinking into the chair with ease. He beckoned you with a crooked finger, "Come here. Now."

You gradually approached Gojo until you were merely a few feet away from him. One hand rested on the chair's arm while the other stroked his chin, as if he was pondering how he was going to proceed.

"Strip," Gojo commanded with a stern tone, leaning forward in his chair to observe you more closely. You bit your lip as you slowly began to remove your clothing, starting with your top. You crossed your arms over one another, hooking your hands underneath the hem of your shirt before lifting it over your head and tossing it to the side as seductively as possible. You then began to shimmy your way out of your tight shorts, stepping out of them, leaving you completely naked before Gojo.

Once you were entirely bare, Gojo exhaled loudly, easing back into his chair. He ran his fingers through his hair, "God, your body is fucking perfect. If you weren't acting like such a naughty slut, I would take you right here, right now." He stood up and walked towards you, slowly circling you like a shark stalking its prey. He stopped behind you and leaned towards your ear, "But naughty sluts don't get rewarded."

Gojo bit your earlobe before forcefully smacking your ass, causing you to gasp loudly in response. He soothed the lingering burn by roughly grabbing your ass with both of his hands. "Mm, baby, the things I'm going to do to you," Gojo whispered in a husky voice. He slid his hands between your legs, dragging his finger from your clit, all the way through the slit. Gojo moaned, "I love how wet you get for me; it makes me want to fuck you so bad." He teasingly inserted the tip of his finger in and out of you.

You rocked your body against the rhythm of his fingers, desperate for more. Gojo tsked at you before quickly removing his hand. He stepped in front of you and put the same finger that had been inside you in your mouth. You made eye contact with Gojo as you eagerly sucked on his fingers. Gojo hummed at the sight, "But only good girls get rewarded, remember?"

"Now I'll give you one more chance...if you apologize like a good girl, I might throw in a reward...or two..."

You kept your gaze on the floor, contemplating how you wanted to play this. Though submitting would bring many pleasures, being defiant caused a thrill out of you like no other. Nothing felt better than being dominated by Gojo Satoru.

Gojo, sensing your hesitation, knelt down beside you, his face inches from yours. "You know, it's not always about the punishment," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "Sometimes, it's about the surrender. The trust. The release." He paused, his eyes searching yours. "Don't you want to experience that with me?"

Finally, you raised your head to meet his gaze, your eyes flashing with defiance. "I'm not sorry, Gojo," you said, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart. "I won't apologize for something I don't believe I did wrong."

Gojo's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of surprise in their depths. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a smirk that sent a shiver down your spine. "Is that so?" he drawled, his voice low and dangerous. "Well then, we'll just have to continue with the punishment, won't we?"

He walked back towards the play cabinet, his movements fluid and graceful like a predator stalking its prey. You couldn't help but watch him, your body tense with anticipation as you wondered what he had planned next. Would he choose the crop again, or perhaps something else entirely?

As Gojo rummaged through the cabinet, you took the opportunity to assess your situation. You were on all fours, completely naked and vulnerable, with no idea what Gojo had in store for you. A shiver of excitement ran down your spine at the thought, and you realized that this was exactly what you wanted - to be pushed to your limits, to feel the sting of the crop and the heat of Gojo's body against yours.

With a triumphant grin, Gojo emerged from the cabinet, holding a new toy in his hand. It was a paddle, similar to the one he had used earlier but with a slightly different design. You couldn't help but gulp at the sight, wondering how it would feel against your already tender skin.

"Now, where were we?" Gojo said, his voice dripping with mock innocence as he approached you with the paddle. "Oh yes, you were about to receive your punishment for being such a naughty girl."

He raised the paddle above his head, and you braced yourself for the impact. But just as he was about to bring it down, he stopped, his eyes narrowing as he regarded you with a mixture of amusement and frustration.

"You know," he said, "I'm starting to think that you actually enjoy this."

You couldn't help but smile at that, your defiance shining bright in your eyes. "Maybe I do," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe I like the way you make me feel, the way you push me to my limits and make me crave more."

Gojo's eyes darkened at your words, and for a moment, you thought you saw something resembling desire flash in their depths. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that infuriating smirk once more.

"Well then," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "I think it's time we found out just how much you can take."

And with that, he brought the paddle down, the sound of it connecting with your skin echoing through the room as you cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

Gojo's eyes never left yours as he raised the crop, the air in the room charged with anticipation. You braced yourself, your heart pounding in your chest, but instead of bringing the crop down on your exposed skin, he merely traced it along your back, the leather cool against your heated flesh.

"Naughty girls don't get rewards, remember?" he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

"But maybe, just maybe, if you beg nicely..."

You gritted your teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing you plead. Instead, you met his gaze head-on, your defiance shining in your eyes.

"I won't beg, Gojo," you said, your voice steady despite the trembling in your limbs. "I won't give you the power to make me beg."

A slow smile spread across his face, and for a moment, you thought you saw something akin to admiration in his eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a predatory glint that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Oh, but you already have, my dear," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. "Your defiance, your determination... it's all a form of begging. Begging me to break you, to make you submit."

He leaned closer, his lips almost brushing against yours, and you could feel his breath on your skin. "But I'm not going to do that," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Not yet, anyway."

Gojo, however, was not one to give up so easily. He could see the fire in your eyes, the defiance that made his heart race. He loved it, craved it even. It was a challenge, and he was more than willing to rise to the occasion.

"Very well," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "If you won't submit willingly, then I'll have to make you."

With that, he reached into the cabinet and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Your eyes widened at the sight, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through your veins. You had never been into bondage before, but the thought of being completely at Gojo's mercy was intoxicating.

"Get on the bed," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. You hesitated for a moment, your mind racing, but ultimately, your curiosity and desire to experience this new form of play won out.

You climbed onto the bed, your heart pounding in your chest as Gojo approached. He grabbed your wrists, his touch firm but gentle, and secured the handcuffs around them. You tested the restraints, finding them secure, and a shiver of anticipation ran down your spine.

"Now, we'll see how defiant you are," Gojo murmured, his voice a soft growl as he loomed over you. He ran a hand down your body, his touch feather-light, and you couldn't help but shiver at the sensation.

He began to explore your body with his hands, his touch lingering on your most sensitive areas. Your breath hitched as he teased your nipples, rolling them between his fingers, and you felt a dampness between your legs.

"Spread your legs," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. You complied, feeling vulnerable and exposed, but also incredibly turned on. He ran his hands up your inner thighs, stopping just short of your aching core.

"Please," you whispered, your defiance crumbling in the face of your desire. "Please, touch me."

Gojo grinned, a predatory glint in his eye. "Finally, some submission," he purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction. He dipped his head between your legs, his tongue tracing your folds, and you gasped at the sensation.

He continued to pleasure you, his skilled tongue driving you to the brink of orgasm. Just as you were about to fall over the edge, he stopped, pulling away with a wicked grin.

"Not yet," he whispered, his voice a tantalizing promise. "You'll beg for it first." Gojo backed off the bed to strip himself of his clothing before returning on top of you.

"You're such a stubborn little thing," Gojo growled, his eyes dark with desire.

"But I love a challenge."

He straddled your face, his arousal pressing against your lips. You opened your mouth, and he forcefully thrust inside, fucking your mouth with abandon. He moaned as he thrust deeper, his grip on your hair tightening as he used your mouth for his pleasure.

"You like this, don't you?" he taunted, his voice heavy with lust. "Being used like a cheap whore, taking my cock down your throat."

You gagged and moaned around him, the sensations overwhelming as he continued to degrade you. Finally, with a grunt of satisfaction, he came, his release filling your mouth as you struggled to swallow it all.

He pulled away, a satisfied smirk on his face. "Now that's what I call a good girl," he said, his voice dripping with condescension.

But your defiance was not so easily broken. You glared up at him, your eyes blazing with determination. "I'm not done yet," you declared, your voice hoarse but strong.

Gojo's eyes widened in surprise, and then he laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "Oh, I can't wait to see what you have in store for me," he said, his voice full of anticipation.

He returned to his position beside you, his hand reaching out to tease your body once more. You braced yourself, ready for the next round of his relentless assault. You were determined to show him that you were not so easily broken, that your defiance would not be easily quashed. He began to tease you once more.

Gojo's smirk widened as he watched your defiance, the fire in your eyes only serving to fuel his own desire. He leaned down, his lips close to your ear as he whispered, "You want it so badly, don't you? To feel me inside you, to be filled and used."

His fingers teased your entrance, circling your clit before slipping inside you, his thumb rubbing circles over your sensitive nub. Your body trembled, your breath hitching as he brought you closer and closer to the edge of release, only to pull away at the last moment.

He then positioned himself between your legs, his tongue tracing the same path his fingers had just moments before. He teased your entrance with the tip of his tongue before delving inside, his hands gripping your hips as he feasted on your sweetness. Your body bucked, your cries of pleasure filling the room as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

"Please," you gasped, your voice barely audible as you pleaded with him. "Please, let me come."

Gojo's laughter echoed in your ears, a cruel sound that made your heart race. "Beg for it," he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "Beg me to fuck you."

You closed your eyes, your body shaking as you whispered the words he wanted to hear. "Please, fuck me. Use me. I'm your whore, your toy. Do whatever you want to me."

Satisfied with your submission, Gojo removed the handcuffs from your wrists, flipping you onto your stomach before pulling your arms behind your back and cuffing them together. He positioned himself at your entrance, his arousal pressing against your folds as he teased you with the tip.

"Are you ready to be fucked?" he asked, his voice heavy with desire.

"Yes," you gasped, your body trembling with need. "Please, fuck me. I need you inside me."

Gojo thrust forward, filling you completely as he began to pound into you from behind. Your cries of pleasure filled the room, your body trembling as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. And this time, when the pleasure threatened to overwhelm you, he didn't pull away. Instead, he drove you over the edge, your body shaking as you came undone around him.

Gojo's smirk widened as he gripped a handful of your hair, pulling your head back to expose your neck. He leaned down, his lips close to your ear as he whispered, "You're mine now, and I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk."

He slapped your ass, the sound echoing in the room as he began to pound into you from behind. His grip on your hair tightened, his other hand wrapping around your throat as he choked you, the pressure sending a thrill of fear and excitement through you.

"You like this, don't you?" he taunted, his voice heavy with lust. "Being used like a worthless whore, taking my cock from behind."

"Please," you gasped, your body trembling with need. "I need to come. Please let me come."

Gojo's laughter echoed in your ears, a cruel sound that made your heart race. "Beg for it," he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "Beg me to let you come."

You closed your eyes, your body shaking as you whispered the words he wanted to hear. "Please, let me come. I'm your dirty little whore.”

Gojo's thrusts grew more frantic, his grip on your hair tightening as he pulled your head back, exposing your neck to his biting kisses. He slapped your ass again, the sting mixing with the pleasure coursing through your body.

"You're so tight," he growled, his voice low and rough as he fucked you harder. "So fucking tight."

He choked you harder, the pressure sending a thrill of fear and excitement through you. It was a dangerous game, but you trusted him completely. He was in control, and you were his to use as he saw fit.

"Please," you gasped, your body trembling with need. "I need to come. Please let me come."

Gojo's laughter echoed in your ears, a cruel sound that made your heart race. "Beg for it," he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "Beg me to let you come."

You closed your eyes, your body shaking as you whispered the words he wanted to hear. "Please, let me come. I'm your good girl. I'll do anything you want.”

Gojo pulled out of you, flipping you onto your back before he repositioned your legs near your head. He loomed over you, his eyes dark with desire as he wrapped his hand around your throat, choking you as he slammed into you.

"You're so fucking wet," he growled, his voice low and rough as he fucked you harder. "Your pussy is gripping my cock so right baby.” Gojo moaned loudly, whimpers escaping his lips here and there.

He leaned down, his lips close to your ear as he whispered, "You like this, don't you? Being used and degraded like the dirty little slut you are."

His words degraded you, but they only served to fuel your desire. You were his to use, his toy to play with as he saw fit. And in that moment, as he fucked you rough and violent, you knew that you would never be satisfied with anything less.

The handcuffs dug into your back, but you didn't mind. The pain was a welcome distraction, a reminder that you were alive and at his mercy. You were his to use and abuse, his toy to play with as he saw fit. And as he choked you and fucked you harder, you knew that you were exactly where you wanted to be.

As Gojo continued to pound into you, he placed his hands on your throat. His grip tightened, the pressure making your head spin. His thrusts grew more erratic, more desperate as he chased his release. You could feel the coil in your stomach tightening, your own climax imminent.

"I'm going to fill your dirty little pussy up with every drop of my cum," he growled, his voice thick with lust and possessiveness. "You're going to cum with me, understand?"

You nodded, unable to form words around the pleasure coursing through your body. You were so close, so fucking close.

With a final, brutal thrust, Gojo came, his body shuddering as he filled you up with his seed. The sensation of him cumming inside you sent you over the edge, your body convulsing as you came around his cock.

He pulled out slowly, his spent length slipping from your body. You could feel his cum running down your thighs, mixing with your own juices. You lay there, panting and spent, your body aching in the best possible way.

Gojo loomed over you, his eyes dark and satisfied as he watched you. "You did well," he said, his voice low and approving. "You were a good little slut for me."

You smiled up at him, your body still buzzing from the aftershocks of your shared climax. You were his, his toy to use and abuse as he saw fit. And in that moment, as you lay there covered in his cum, you knew that you would never be satisfied with anything less.

HOPE YALL ENJOYED!

#gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo x you #gojo smut #gojo x y/n #gojou satoru x reader #jjk smut

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nothingbutsweetwords · 10 months ago

Text

ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ꜱᴏɴ, ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

"…ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ ᴏꜰ ʀᴇɢʀᴇᴛꜱ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ."

Word count: 4,900.

Fandom: House of the Dragon.

Pairing: Aemond x Reader!Velaryon!Niece.

DISTANCE — 10. Him.

When she left King's Landing, it was as if a black shadow had settled over the entire city, a dark suffocating mist smothering any ray of light despite the sun's bright rays. The Red Keep became cold and hollow. It transformed into a labyrinth of echoes from shared memories, now faded in time, like a persistent lament that could be heard in every corner.

As the days passed, he sought refuge in a rigorous and emotionless routine. Breakfasts became occasions for his mother's presence, and lunches were spent with his sister, though the conversation lacked the vimness it once had.

It was a comfort, albeit a fragmented one. Alicent was always attentive, quick to notice every visible need. However, her affection manifested in an attempt to keep him safe, shielding him from any perceived dangers, but not from the stormy sea of his own emotions. She was aware of his pain, but they never spoke openly about what truly troubled him, fearing that stirring those deep waters might overflow them. Instead, she offered practical advice and an outward calm that barely touched the surface of his emotional distress.

Helaena, with her serene and enigmatic nature, was a peculiar source of comfort. Her visions and whispers, often cryptic, seemed to touch the chords of his deepest thoughts, as if she could see beyond the obvious. In her presence, he found fleeting moments of peace.

The loss of her usual brightness after her marriage to Aegon only accentuated the air of affliction in the castle, revealing a wound in her soul that resonated with his own. It was clear that neither of them had wanted that union, but it was she who had suffered a brutal clash between her ideals and a starkly different reality she faced.

Despite this, she often repeated to him that phrase he had heard for the first time so many years ago, accompanied by a small, wistful smile: "Our wait will be rewarded."

He found it increasingly difficult to hold onto trust in those words. They had become a thin fragile thread, turning his faith into a dull ache and keeping him anchored to a life that felt increasingly distant and unrecognizable.

Her absence left him with an overwhelming void, a sense of loss so profound that it seemed to consume every corner of his being—worse even than the loss of his eye, as if a part of his soul had departed with her, his best friend, his love.

He wrote to her many times, pouring into the pages a torrent of emotions he couldn't express aloud. Each one contained a silent plea for a response, a sign that she still thought of him. But her replies never came, and with each day of silence, his misery grew like a storm that besieged him without respite.

He immersed himself in a series of mental scenarios, imagining every possible reason for the lack of response. Had she heard about his indiscretions the night before she left? Or was she angry because he hadn't allowed her to visit when she needed him the most?

He tried to convince himself that she needed space, that time and distance would heal their wounds, but as the weeks turned into moons, the lack of words became an increasingly heavy burden, leading him to question and finally accept that, perhaps, he deserved the silence.

Sometimes, when fate offered a reprieve and luck favored him, he would see her in his dreams, even if they were tumultuous. In them, she would drift away whenever he tried to reach her, her expression distraught at his sullied touch. The pain of her absence mingled with the fleeting joy of seeing her face again, creating a cut that seemed impossible to heal.

There were moments when he nearly mounted Vhagar, to escape the place where his memories kept him imprisoned, and fly to her. But fear and insecurity held him back. His heart, wounded and fragile, couldn't bear the possibility of meeting a version of her who no longer wished to see him. The thought of facing that rejection was too devastating.

His connection with Vhagar was another of the few true comforts he had left. Flying with her offered a breath from his earthly troubles, a sense of freedom and power that he found nowhere else. However, even this source of relief was restricted. His mother feared the dragon, not just for her size and might, but for what she represented: an unbridled power and independence that she could not control. With maternal concern deeply rooted in her, she limited his opportunities to fly, fearing that something might go wrong.

He and his siblings were now only permitted to fly during royal journeys, which had drastically decreased over the years, along with the king's health.

These limitations felt like heavy chains pressing down on him more and more. His desire to fly, to feel the wind on his face and Vhagar's roar beneath him, was an essential part of his being—a way to feel free and leave his worries behind if only for a brief moment. Every time it was denied to him, the frustration and resentment grew, adding to the tangled web of conflictions that tormented him.

He threw himself into his studies with an almost obsessive intensity, as if each text and lesson could offer a distraction. This rigorous pursuit of knowledge was more than just a means to an end; it was a way to drown out the loneliness that gnawed at his insides. Instead of confronting his pain, he buried it under a façade of determination, finding in discipline another means of desertion.

Physical training became another outlet. Every sword strike, every grueling exercise, was a cathartic release, a way to channel his frustration and sadness into something tangible. He often pushed beyond the limits of prudence, driving his body to exhaustion.

The relentless ache became an inescapable companion, following him even in his busiest moments. Despite his efforts to keep his mind focused on other tasks, the image of her smile and the echo of her laughter lingered like ghosts that refused to be exorcized.

He found himself wondering, with a knot tightening in his chest, if she had forgotten him, if she had found a new life on the island and no longer thought of him. This uncertainty consumed him inside, like a flame that never went out.

The nights were especially cruel, filled with restless tossing and turning as his mind replayed memories and imagined scenarios. The fear of having lost her forever and the guilt for not having done more intertwined, creating an internal struggle that left him exhausted and unable to find sleep.

As the months stretched into years, he adapted to an existence where her absence was a constant. Yet, he never stopped missing her, nor did he stop yearning for the joy her presence had once brought into his life. It was a quiet, persistent longing that he learned to live with.

His kind sister continued to bring him fresh roses every week, a simple yet constant gesture that tried to fill some of the emptiness. Sometimes, in his frustration and pain, he rejected them, leaving them to wither untouched. Other times, in a fit of desperation, he would throw them away, as if by doing so he could uproot the feelings that consumed him. But there were moments when, with an almost reverent stillness, he would lean over them, breathing in their fragrance and letting the soft petals brush against his skin, searching for a trace of the connection they once shared.

On one particularly lonely night, he dusted off the gift she had given him, a tangible symbol of their bond. He wore it with pride, like a talisman against the encroaching sadness. Next to the cherished case, on his nightstand, he kept a piece of the sapphire. Each time he looked at it, he imagined her, and clinged to the memory of her with all the strength he could muster. It was a small comfort, a glimmer of the love and friendship that had once been his.

He was sitting at the table, engrossed in conversation with his mother. It was a quiet breakfast, one of those rare moments of peace they could enjoy together lately, as she had been increasingly occupied with court matters.

She was giving him news about Daeron and the impending arrival of some nobles for the festivities in his father's honor. Everything seemed routine, just a simple update on the day's affairs.

But then, almost as if it were of no consequence, she mentioned: "A raven has arrived from Dragonstone." Her tone was casual, almost offhand, as if she were talking about the weather or some other minor detail. However, the words fell like lead. "Rhaenyra and her family shall be joining us."

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. He stopped eating, his fork halted midway to his mouth, and he sat motionless. His mind went blank, struggling to process what he had just heard. She, the girl who had filled his thoughts and dreams for all those years, would be returning.

Alicent, keenly aware of her son's reaction, watched his face carefully. Despite her attempts to maintain an air of indifference, her eyes showed a flicker of concern. She knew the significance of the announcement for him, and though she tried to downplay it, she couldn't ignore the palpable tension that hung in the air.

He finally set the fork down, his mind swirling. He tried to maintain his composure, but the lump in his throat and the quickening of his beatings were hard to hide. "When, precisely?" he asked, his voice taut with barely suppressed anxiety.

"A few days before it begins, I suppose" she replied, not taking her eyes off him. "Nothing to be concerned about." But they both knew that was far from the truth. The news was anything but trivial. Her arrival was not just another court event; it was an emotional earthquake threatening to shatter the fragile calm he had painstakingly built over the years.

As the days crept closer to the celebrations, the nights grew longer and more sleepless. He found himself going over every possible encounter, every word he wanted to say to her. Anxiety gripped him, a gnawing fear that she had changed, that the woman he had loved and lost might no longer exist in the form he remembered. The thought that perhaps nothing remained of what they once shared was a weight he couldn't bear, leaving him on edge.

The days passed wrapped in a fog of anticipation. The news loomed over him inevitably and followed him wherever he went. The arrival of servants from Dragonstone only intensified this sense of imminence.

Among these newcomers was Lyra, the lady-in-waiting who, years ago, had wished him a happy birthday with genuine warmth. Now, however, her gaze was tinged with disapproval, her brows furrowed, and her expression hardened. He felt each of these gestures like a small sign of what was to come, amplifying his own discomfort.

He had set aside the books, as they no longer worked; the words blurred in his mind, and he was unable to concentrate. Instead, he spent those hours wielding the sword, until the skin of his palms became rough and calloused.

One day, waiting for his sister for lunch, he anxiously eyed the usual vase of roses, which already appeared wilted. Helaena arrived with a smile he hadn't seen in a long time, it was bright, contrasting with the gravity of his own thoughts; however, she did not bring new roses as she usually did.

She noticed his unease and, in a casual tone, remarked, "you shan’t need them for some time, I believe."

During lunch, she spoke with overflowing energy, filling the silence of the room. He, though less communicative, felt relieved by her presence and liveliness.

As they finished, he accompanied her to the door. She bid him farewell with contagious cheerfulness and went to her room, leaving him deep in thought. He lingered in the hallway, contemplating the change in her demeanor, wondering what she had meant.

Just then a roar from Vhagar echoed through the air, strong and clear. It was soon followed by another. The sound, different from usual, carried a tone of joy, almost of celebration. It caught his attention, pulling him from his reverie.

Nervous and conflicted, he closed the door and sank into a chair, burying his face in his hands. He didn't feel ready for what was coming; the feeling of losing control overwhelmed him, it was a sensation he despised more than any other.

After some period of introspection and as the commotion on the floor of the chambers died down, he decided to head to the yard. There, more crowded than usual, he found the usual scene: guards and nobles training fervently. Criston Cole waiting for him, stood ready, morningstar in hand.

"Are you ready, my prince?" Criston asked, his voice laced with challenge and a slight smile playing on his lips.

He nodded, taking a wooden shield and a sword from the armory table. They both faced each other, taking their positions. With every muscle tense and alert, he began to move his body, eager to release the pent-up nerves consuming him.

Criston was the first to attack, his movements swift and precise. He, instead, chose to maintain a defensive stance, blocking and dodging. He heard each clash, the impact of metal against wood and the crunch of the ground beneath their feet.

As the fight progressed, Cole increased his aggression, launching more powerful attacks. At one point, he managed to hit his shield, splintering and breaking the wood. He threw the remnants aside, adjusting his grip on the sword. Even without a defense, he kept his composure, with more calculated movements.

They moved in circles, gauging each other's reactions. It was then that he spotted his nephews among the spectators. The sight of him, whom he had not seen since the attack that cost him an eye, ignited a flare of anger within him. He bitterly remembered the injustice of that day, how Lucerys had emerged unscathed while he bore the scar, a permanent reminder.

Criston, sensing the shift in his energy, redoubled his efforts, but he, driven by a surge of emotion, held his ground. With precision, he found an opening in Cole's defense. With a quick and decisive maneuver, he ended the fight with the sword pressed against his opponent’s neck, securing a clear victory. The yard erupted in applause and murmurs.

Criston, breathing heavily, looked at him with a mix of respect and pride. "Well done, my prince. You’ll be winning tourneys in no time" he said, with a playful smile.

He had little interest in such spectacles. He viewed tournaments as mere displays, insufficient to measure a warrior's true worth.

Aemond, with heavy breathing, replied firmly with an icy tone: "I don’t give a shit about tourneys." Then, with his gaze fixed on his nephews, he addressed them "Nephews, have you come to train?" The question carried a sharp edge, a latent provocation that resonated with the unresolved hostility between them.

The young men remained silent, their expressions serious. Without waiting for a response, he turned back to the armory table and took another shield, determined to continue.

As he walked behind his mother, his gaze was fixed ahead with his siblings flanking him on either side, all heading towards the hall where breakfast would be served.

The night before, she had been absent from supper, and while he felt a temporary relief that the encounter had been postponed, it was mixed with the sadness of not having seen her.

As he entered the room, his heart skipped a beat. His gaze instinctively sought her among the others, and when he found her, it felt as though time had stopped. He tried to walk with apparent calm, though inside, a battle was raging.

She was watching him too, and in that brief moment their eyes met, he felt a jolt course through his body. None of the fantasies he had harbored about this moment could have prepared him for the reality. She was completely different, yet unmistakably the same, her essence unchanged.

She was more radiant than he had ever imagined. There was an air of dignity, confidence and grace in her bearing that left him breathless. There was a dignity in her presence, a poise that was almost otherworldly, captivating him beyond mere words. Her gaze, filled with a subtle strength, seemed to pierce through his defenses, making him feel as though he were standing on the precipice of an emotional abyss.

He quickly averted his eye, fearing that his emotions might overflow if he maintained contact any longer. He took his seat, and the ensuing silence was almost palpable, heavy with tension and unspoken feelings.

As breakfast progressed, he tried to maintain his composure, but his mind was in turmoil. Every gesture she made, every word she spoke, was a new wave crashing over him. Seeing her after so long was both a blessing and a torment. His hands clenched together on top of the table as he noticed her eyes following him, her gaze inscrutable.

She was even more enchanting than what he thought was possible. The maturity of her features only served to enhance her natural allure, making her beauty more profound. Her face, framed by the dark cascade of her curls, seemed to shine with an inner light.

Every detail, from the way her eyes sparkled with hidden depths to the delicate curve of her lips, revealed the woman she had become. Her attire, the deep black fabric draping elegantly over her, accentuated her striking features.

Each glance at her was a painful, bittersweet reminder of the time past and lost.

His mother’s words echoed in his mind: “Nothing to be concerned about.” Everything in him was concerned, everything in him was engaged.

The mere mention of Dragonstone seemed to light up her face; the joy in her expression and the smile he adored were unmistakable. At that moment, he knew her stay would be temporary. She had found a new home, a new life away from him, and the realization was like a dagger.

Upon learning that she had become a dragonrider, he felt a profound joy for her. He recalled the long nights they had spent talking about dragons, imagining what it would be like to fly. He wished he had been there to see her take flight for the first time.

When the king remarked, “The mount of the Good Queen Alysanne. It suits you well” and Helaena, by his side, nodded slightly, a dark fear settled in his chest. It was a gesture laden with foreboding that he was reluctant to explore.

A few hours later, he found himself having lunch with Helaena in her room. The soft afternoon light filtered through the windows, bathing the space in a warm golden glow. Despite the cozy atmosphere, he was lost in thought, his mind still dwelling on the events of that morrow and the memories they had stirred.

Helaena, ever perceptive, noticed his distraction. “Brother” she said softly, her voice filling the room with calmness. When he looked up, she was watching him with a tender expression. “Are you well?”

He hesitated, the words he had kept buried for so long finally emerging. “Will we be together?” he asked quietly, his uncertainty and longing for answers evident. He trusted that fate had its own path, but he needed to know if there was any possibility of a future for them.

She tilted her head slightly, her expression thoughtful as she chose her words carefully. “Some things will depend on you; others are already woven into the fabric of destiny. But I have found that after a long winter, summer is appreciated more” she replied with a wisdom that seemed to come from a deep place. His brows furrowed with a hint of concern. “But you must always keep the door open.”

He nodded, caught between optimism and resignation. He bid farewell to Helaena, each step he took feeling heavier under the weight of her words. As he opened the door, he found himself face to face with the person who had been occupying his thoughts. For a moment, he was caught off guard, stunned by the unexpected encounter.

“Niece” he greeted with a courteous gesture, inclining his head

“Uncle” she replied with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, a barrier he recognized immediately. “I was looking for Helaena.”

“Of course” he said, stepping aside to let her pass and holding the door open for her. With another polite gesture, she moved past him, her presence filling the space of the room. Helaena gave him a small knowing smile as the princess entered.

He let out a long weary sigh as he closed the door, feeling a growing sense of unease.

That night, after a long bath, he once again found himself unable to sleep. Sitting at the edge of his window, he gazed out at the clear sky while idly spinning a sapphire between his fingers. The distant roar of Vhagar echoed, and the restless tides mirrored his own agitation.

With a long sigh and a sudden resolve, he adjusted his patch back in place, rose and walked toward the fire crackling in his room. Lighting a candle, he moved quietly towards the back door, leaving the sapphire behind.

It had been years since he last opened it; since that night, he had avoided the path, as if keeping it shut could keep that memory at bay. Now, driven by an unknown force, he opened it swiftly and stepped into the hallway.

A light from the other end caught his attention. It was her, holding a candle, walking toward him with a serious and determined face. Upon seeing him, her eyebrows rose slightly in surprise. They both stopped in their tracks, staring at each other. Words crowded in his throat, unable to be spoken.

“I wished to speak with you” she said softly, breaking the silence gently. He nodded, still silent, fearful that his voice would betray him. “Shall we go to your chambers?” she suggested, her tone firm but laden with silent expectation.

He nodded again, feeling foolish for having been paralyzed. He gestured towards the way, even though she knew it by memory. Stepping aside to let her pass, his heart pounded with a frantic, uncontrolled rhythm. She pushed open the door that had remained ajar and entered with the same familiarity of years past.

He closed the door behind them and approached cautiously. She moved to the window, where the moonlight bathed her in a silvery glow. He noticed then how she was dressed, wearing a robe over her nightgown and her curls disheveled, contrasting with the elegance of the breakfast, yet to him, she looked utterly divine.

She faced him. A pang of sorrow struck him at her expression. “Why?” she asked, showing a vulnerability that made him feel even more guilty.

“Why what?” he replied, dreading what was to come.

“Why did you never come to see me?” The question felt like a dagger, striking with precision. He looked at her, feeling a knot in his stomach.

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words escaped him. Finally, he found his voice, though weak. “I did not know if you wished for my presence” he murmured, his words sounding hollow even to himself.

She looked at him as if unable to believe what she was hearing. “Is this some jest? I asked you so many times” she said, her tone incredulous. He furrowed his brow. “Did my letters mean so little to you that you did not even take the time to read them?” she added, her bitterness palpable.

He felt as though the world was swaying beneath him. “What letters?” he asked, trying to process everything, his voice softer, trying not to alarm her further.

“The letters!” she said, her words laced with indignation and sadness. “The ones I sent you” she continued. “I thought we had something special. Did I imagine it?” Her tone trembled with emotion. “I waited for so long, I wrote to you so many times, like a fool.” Her voice broke, and she covered her face with her hands. “I hoped… I hoped for a response, a visit, something to let me know you hadn’t forgotten me.”

He took a step forward quickly, his heart pounding against his chest, feeling an urgency he could not ignore. “You wrote me?” he asked, incredulous.

She lowered her hands, her eyes burning with impotent fury. “Do not mock me” she said, turning away, looking out the window again.

He followed her, overwhelmed by a newly discovered helplessness and a fluttering hope of reconciliation. “I wrote to you as well, hundreds of times” he tried to meet her gaze, seeking some glimmer of understanding. “I swear this to you, by all the gods” he pleaded.

“I never received a single letter from you” she replied, finally looking at him with her beautiful eyes shining under the moonlight, her anger softening momentarily with disbelief.

"Nor did I. Not one. Had I received any, I would have come to you at once. You must believe me," he said, “I thought you did not want to hear from me” he whispered desperately, his deepest fears laid bare.

“Why would I not?” she asked, still with a hint of distrust in her eyes from the revelation. Everything seemed so absurd and cruel, yet he felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

She shook her head, her steps carrying her nervously back and forth in the room, her mind working frantically to understand. “It does not make any sense” her voice was a barely audible murmur, more to herself than to him. “Why?” She continued to mutter, her voice filled with a mixture of frustration and anguish, while he merely watched her.

Suddenly, she turned to face him, her eyes searching for an answer he did not have. “Are you not upset about this?” she asked, her voice rising slightly, annoyed.

He continued to watch her, feeling a strange sense of peace amid the chaos. "I cannot find it within myself to be angry at this moment," he replied, "not when you are here before me once more." His voice was filled with a sincerity that surprised even him.

There were so many emotions at play, so many unresolved things, but at that moment, all that mattered was that they were face to face once more.

“I never stopped thinking about you, wondering why I never heard from you, missing you.” He wanted to reach out, touch her, somehow close the distance that had formed between them, but he couldn’t. “I never wanted to lose you.”

“Is that true?” she asked, almost whispering. “Did you truly never stop thinking about me?” She looked at him, her eyes filled with unshed tears. For a moment, time seemed to stand still, and in that shared silence, he understood the magnitude of what they had lost and what they might still recover.

He took another step towards her, his expression sincere. “Never” he said firmly, hoping she could see the truth in his eyes. “Not for a single second.”

She looked at him, her expression softening, and bit her lip, struggling to hold back the flood of emotions.. But the pain and confusion were still present, like a shadow that refused to dissipate. “This is… too much” she murmured, shaking her head slightly.

He nodded, understanding the enormity of what they had just uncovered. “I understand” he said softly. “Take all the time you need.”

She turned, intending to leave the room, and he followed, prepared to escort her to her door. But just before they could move too far, she suddenly stopped and turned back to him. In an impulsive move, she threw herself at him with force, wrapping her arms around his waist in a desperate embrace. She pressed her face against his chest, her hands clasped tightly on his back, holding him with an intensity that suggested she feared losing him forever if she let go.

He, taken aback by the gesture and despite feeling he didn’t deserve her pure affection, couldn’t help but reciprocate the embrace. He wrapped his arms around her with a tenderness he rarely showed, letting himself be carried away by the moment. He rested his face on the crown of her head, breathing deeply, the sweetest and freshest scent of roses filling his senses, enveloping him in an intoxicating warmth.

It was a silent comfort. He realized how much he had longed for this contact, this closeness, more than he had even admitted to himself.

"I'm sorry" she murmured against his chest. "I'm sorry for everything." Tears began to fall, dampening his shirt. He could feel the rapid beat of her heart against his body.

She lifted her head, her eyes shimmering with something more. He found himself getting lost in that gaze. “What do we do now?”

With a gentle smile, he caressed her cheek with his thumb, wiping away a tear that had escaped. "I won’t let us be separated again" he promised, his voice firm yet tender. “If you will allow me, I wish to mend what has been broken.”

She nodded, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to shrink to the small space between them, where only the two of them existed.

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