#forever is a mighty long time

[peachesarts]

begin again

[justalittlebluetiefling]

I mean, okay. I know everyone has their opinions, but like, we know that Jester’s Fjord’s feelings for Jester started to shift at the jellyfish talk, because Travis has said that. But I also know in my heart that his feelings were really starting to manifest during this second temple talk. Like, this is that moment that I watch and I just know that he knows that he has a crush on her and he doesn’t want to, but he can’t help it.

[siixkiing]

✧ Fᵢgₕₜ ₛₒ dᵢᵣₜy, bᵤₜ yₒᵤᵣ ₗₒᵥₑ'ₛ ₛₒ ₛwₑₑₜ ✧ ✧ ₜₐₗₖ ₛₒ ₚᵣₑₜₜy, bᵤₜ yₒᵤᵣ ₕₑₐᵣₜ gₒₜ ₜₑₑₜₕ ✧

✧ ₙₑᵥₑᵣ, ₙₑᵥₑᵣ, ₙₑᵥₑᵣ ₑᵥₑᵣ ₗₑₜ gₒ ✧

𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒𝒹 𝐵𝓎 𝒦𝒾𝒶 & 𝑀𝒶𝑒

[tonycries]

One More? Please? - G.S.

Synopsis. A kiss always solves everything! But when a kiss turns into something more…well, it’s only a desperate attempt to unseal yourselves from this damned prison realm, right? Right?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, coworkers to lovers, being stuck in that damn box, oral (female), mutual másturbation, spitting, fáce-sítting, máting press, Satoru is down bad for you, chóking, overstim, multiple rounds, créampie, pet names (sweetheart), swearing.

Word count. 4.4k

A/N. Happy belated two months to this blog! Concept inspired by this post by @kingkonoha.

“Maybe we should kiss and see if the box opens?”

“That’s the dumbest fucking thing to ever come out of your mouth.”

“Hey- it works in the movies! True love’s kiss and all-”

You heave out a heavy sigh that makes even the skeleton at your shoulder shake its head in pity. Goddamn, if these curses weren’t going to kill him then you will. 

“I take it back. That’s the dumbest fucking thing to ever come out of your mouth.”

Satoru hooks a thumb over his blindfold to gaze at you with mock seriousness. Oh, how the mighty have fallen - and how you were teetering dangerously close to a stroke with each dramatic bat of his long lashes.

“C’monnn~” he whines, with the flair of someone that was not sealed in an inescapable prison, “Don’t tell me that in all these years you’ve never once been at least a little tempted to kiss me, sweetheart.” 

“I’d rather kiss that dusty skull.” Shooting him a pointed look that makes even the skulls at your feet recoil. It would almost be hilarious if it wasn’t for the fact that you were trapped. In the prison realm. With Gojo Satoru of all people. Possibly forever.

Shit, is this karma for all those times you ditched Satoru with Nanami instead of dealing with him yourself?

Now, Satoru might be going about it with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, but just a few minutes ago when his life flashed before his very eyes at the mere sight of Suguru - or at least, the monster wearing his body - he’d expected some of his favorite memories to be the ones with you in it. 

You - his lil’ coworker - in all your gorgeous, smart-mouthed glory. And maybe if he was lucky, he even expected a couple glimpses of you in his future. Preferably with a giant rock on your finger.

But that’s a story for another time, what he certainly did not expect was for your stupidly heroic (and quite beautiful) ass to jump right in the middle of the prison realm’s ensnarement. 

Although, honestly, right now he doesn’t think he’d want to be locked up in here with anyone but you - and that withering glare you send him. 

Undeterred, Satoru has the audacity to throw his head back and laugh. Laugh. A sound you’ve come to realize over the years, as innocent as it sounds, does not bode well for you or your sanity. 

A sanity that’s been slowly dwindling since your first day of meeting Satoru. Back then, a brash, cocky new teacher that waltzed into the halls of Jujutsu Tech in those pretentious sunglasses like he owned the place. 

Well, not that he was any different right now. Lounging over some disgruntled skeletons, you half-expected him to pull out a deck chair and start sunbathing amidst the bones. Your begrudging coworker - and occasional bane of your existence - seemed right at home. 

You, however, were decidedly not having the time of your life. 

“I swear, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you grumble, wincing at the bones prodding you from almost every angle. 

“Can you blame me?” he hums, now fully tugging down his blindfold to hang around his neck, “It’s not every day I get to spend quality time with my favorite person in the world.”

You scoff, strangely self-conscious as those striking blue sweep your figure from head to toe. “Lucky me. Well why don’t you spend this quality time helping me figure out how the hell we can get out of here.”

“I already told y-”

“Anything but that.”

With a sulky huff, Satoru peers down at you, “Then we just wait till someone gets us out of here. I’m sure Megumi-chan is just tearing his emo hair out trying to unseal this thing.”

“...”

“You’re absolutely correct, Yuji then. Or…” he tilts his head towards a sad pile of bones, “We end up like our little friend over there. Though I’d make a far better looking skeleton-”

You don’t hear the rest of Satoru’s rant over the small noise of concern that falls from your lips. Something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach at the fact that yes you really were stuck in the prison realm with Gojo Satoru. Possibly forever. And no this wasn’t some strange dream like when you and Shoko accidentally raided the wrong brownie box in the kitchen.

Shit. 

And perhaps it showed on your face, because you’re jolted out of your reverie by warm fingers intertwining with yours. Grounding. Satoru’s eyes now searching yours with an intensity that made you squirm uncomfortably. 

“Hey, we’ll figure this out, okay?” he mutters softly. “Remember that time we accidentally set the training ground on fire?” leaning in closer now, “Or that mission we got chased by that cursed vending machine?”

You roll your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite yourself. “Yeah, and then you nearly got us killed trying to order a sweet tea. ”

Satoru chuckles, squeezing your hand reassuringly. “See? It worked out, didn’t it? It always does, sweetheart.” 

And if your heart does a strange little lurch, well, then you just blame it on the femur jabbing into your side. 

All is quiet in your little hell. That is, until.

“Hey, Satoru…does kissing really work in the movies?” 

You barely catch the way Satoru’s breath hitches ever-so-slightly as he leans in closer. eyes sparkling with mischief. And oh you knew that look - one that was usually accompanied by a lecture by Yaga, one that sent shivers down your spine. He grins, “Well, there’s only one way to find out, hm?”

Embarrassment and amusement bubbles inside you, tumbling out in the form of a barely-audible, “A peck. One.”

“Awww. Eight?”’

“No.”

“Five?”

“Satoru.”

Minty breath fanning your face, “Okay okay, one peck and a kiss to your forehead. C’mon, it’s a bargain~”

Pinching your nose, you sigh out a weary, “This is so stupid. Fine, but if it doesn’t work then I’m strangling you.”

And it’s all that is said before his lips are on yours.  

Soft. Satoru’s lips were so soft. And he tasted so unfairly of caramel apples and sweet, sweet mischief. Just like him. Feather-light and fleeting - yet the kiss burns into your brain with an intensity that you strangely didn’t mind.

It’s over before you know it. The cold air hits your lips as Satoru’s words ring in your ears, a disappointed little, “Aw, that didn’t work.”

Barely even risking a glance at the still very sealed realm, your body reacts before your mind - the expensive cotton of his uniform collar soft against your fingers as you pull Satoru towards you with a sense of urgency you can’t quite explain.

And then you’re kissing him. And he’s kissing you because shit this is all that Satoru’s been dreaming about since he turned 23 and suddenly realized that oh you were frighteningly everything that he ever wanted. 

“S-Satoru,” you whisper, breathless against his lips. 

“Shhhh, my girl. One more. Didn’t work.” 

His lips are searing on yours. Urgent and greedy, because fuck if it took getting trapped in the prison realm to finally kiss you then God knows when he’ll be able to again. 

Which is why he breathes you in like he doesn’t have enough time, and probably never will - even in this godforsaken box where time never passes. 

“Shit. O-one more.”

Drinking in your sweet gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours, tasting how sinfully delicious you were. Satoru’s hands wander the expanse of your body, cupping your head to kiss you deeper, snaking down to squeeze your ass - and everything in between. 

Pulling away ever-so-slightly with a playful bite to your bottom lip, he leaves a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. The disappointed whine that leaves your pretty mouth makes all the blood in Satoru’s body rush to his cock. 

“Sweetheart.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, lips ghosting over your racing pulse. “Y’think I kissed the wrong lips?”

Oh? 

Satoru’s words send a jolt of electricity running down your spine - all the way down to your heated cunt. “W-what?” you managed to choke out, cheeks flaring as he raises his eyes to meet yours and-

Oh.

Oh, shit. If the curses weren’t going to kill you then Satoru sure might. 

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by Satoru carefully jostling the two of you so that he’s lying on his back, your body manhandled to straddle his pretty face. 

“Satoru, when you mean ‘wrong lips’...here?” you trail off, still reeling from him and the abrupt change in position and him. 

“Exactly what I mean,” he chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating beneath your dripping cunt. “Now, spread ‘em wider f’me. Let me taste you- Need it s’bad.”

Body moving as if on autopilot, your knees part wider to let him greedily take in the sight of your soaked panties. Beads of slick seeping through the thin fabric each time his hot breath meets your cunt. 

But not for long - the cool air hits you before you realize what’s happening. Because Satoru is ripping your flimsy panties off with one hand. Throwing it behind to God-knows-where with the urgency of a madman. 

“Shit, so wet f’me already.” he groans, mouth watering at the obscene sight of you clenching around nothing. “S’gorgeous. You really are perfect everywhere, huh?” he mutters through lazy, languid kisses along your thighs. Tongue darting out just so to leisurely trace circles along the heated skin. 

Strong arms wrap around your thighs, the stretch nothing with the two long fingers spreading your swollen folds apart. Your face burns from just how adoring Satoru looks below you.

You buck into his touch, “Hngh- Please. Wan’ your mouth on me.”

And perhaps the great Gojo Satoru decided to be merciful for once in his life, because without another word, he’s surging forward. Tongue flicking out to tease your sloppy entrance, pooling your juices before tipping his head back, back, back to let it slide down his throat so sinfully.

Shit, Satoru could just cum in his pants right now, of course you taste heavenly. Better than he could’ve ever imagined on any lonely night. 

You shudder as he flattens his tongue across your folds, sliding teasingly between them, grazing your swollen clit just barely at an unhurried rhythm that almost has Satoru forgetting where he was. But quite frankly, he couldn’t give less of a fuck about it either.

“This what you wanted, sweetheart?” he hums around your clit, the vibrations making you squeal. Sucking gently, tongue rolling harshly against your bundle of nerves, over and over- “Cause it’s what I’ve been wanting for years.”

The words ring in your ears almost as much as the lewd squelches below. Years?

“F-fuck- feels hngh- What do you mean y-years, Satoru?” 

Oh, Satoru thinks he could pass out just at the way you whine out his name so prettily. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, a hand hastily snaking down to unbuckle his pants. “Mhmm~ Couldn’t go a day without sparring with you where I didn’t think of bending you over and tasting you right there y’know.”

Your eyes snap down to meet Satoru’s hazy, half-lidded ones. Something dark and feral shining within them. And right now, thighs wrapped around his head, you don’t think he’s ever looked happier. White locks splayed out, a fucked-out expression on his face as his tongue bullies past your folds, you could feel the slight smile curling his lips against you. 

It’s overwhelming - both his confession and the way Satoru was making out with your cunt like a man starved.

Nose-deep in your pussy, tongue alternating between its abuse on your throbbing clit and dipping in and out of your sloppy hole at a maddening pace. Mouth only speeding up ruthlessly at the way you convulse and grind involuntarily on top of him.

God, Satoru was going insane at the way your walls were sucking him up so good, clamping down with each push of his tongue. 

“Shit- made jus’ f’me. You like that, don’t you?” he growls against your cunt, voice hoarse with desire. “Like fucking my face with your pussy?”

“Oh! Ngh, yes Satoru- L-love it-”

A bruising grip on your hips, encouraging you to rock against his face. Harder. Tongue more desperate. He couldn’t get enough. Meeting your every grind, tongue lapping at your cunt so obscenely. 

Breaths ragged and hot against your cunt, drinking you in with the desperation of a man that wouldn’t mind giving up air for your essence. And it was Satoru - of course he wouldn’t mind.

Especially with the large hand snaking up your thigh, going from drawing reassuring patterns at your hips to rubbing tight, little circles on your pulsing clit. Hasty, and urgent - like he had no time to waste. “Tha’s right, my girl. Give it up for me,”

Every cell in your body is on fire, every nerve ending singing with pleasure at the way Satoru plays your body like an instrument. 

“M’close, Satoru- Hah- s’close.” you moan breathlessly, a hand tangling in his soft strands. Using it as leverage to ride Satoru’s pretty face just the way you like it.

But you didn’t have to - because Satoru seems to already know exactly what to do. Exactly how to quirk his tongue just right to brush against all your most sensitive spots. Exactly how to match the rhythm of his abuse on your clit to the way he was tonguefucking you into delirium. Exactly how to look at you with such a hungry expression that devours you almost as much as his mouth. 

“Cum f’me, sweetheart.”

Satoru didn’t even have to ask. Because you’re cumming with a strangled gasp of his name. White-hot pleasure coursing through you like lightning, body trembling as you cum all over Satoru’s pretty face. 

Hands moving your limp, boneless hips across his face, forcing you to ride out peak after peak on his red lips.

As the blood roaring in your ears bates, and you blink back your vision, the first thing you see are those familiar blue eyes gazing up at you. Holding you steady, lips brushing gentle kisses along your inner thighs. 

Oh, how beautiful he was like this.

“S-S’toru?” you mewl, still sensitive from your orgasm as Satoru shifts underneath you to sit you prettily in his lap.

“Mhm?” he nuzzles your neck.

“One more. It didn’t work.”

Oh, if you knew the only way to shut up Gojo Satoru was to say something like this then you would’ve done it a lot sooner. 

But Satoru’s stunned silence doesn’t last for long, because he grins, low and sultry, “You’re right. It didn’t work.”

The metallic clinking of a belt echoes in the stuffy chamber as Satoru hastily pushes down his pants. Cock springing free to hit his lower abs, “What a shame.”

You blink at the sheer size of him - he was going to split you in two. It was unfair, really. Water is wet. Gojo Satoru has a big dick. 

But oh was he pretty - so pretty.  Prominent veins glistening in the dim lighting, fat tip flushed your favorite shade of delicate pink, leaking furiously in between your thighs.

Gulping, you reach out to wrap your hand around his achingly hard cock. So warm and heavy in your hands. “Y-yeah, what a shame.”

Both of you watch - entranced - at the way he twitches in your grasp at the mere sound of your voice. A maddening little bump! bump! bump! against your palm as you begin pumping him slowly - so agonizingly slow. 

“Oh- Feel s’good, sweetheart.” Satoru hisses lowly as you swipe at the precum beading at this head. Thumbing teasingly under his sensitive slit, tracing delicately along his veins. 

And by God does it do something to you to see the great Gojo Satoru falling apart for you, hair tousled, lips kiss-bitten, and eyes looking at you like he wanted to positively eat you alive. It made your cunt throb so desperately, slick forming a dark wet patch on his trousers. 

Not one to be left behind, his long fingers deftly snake down to your dripping cunt. Not wasting any time before bullying his fingertips past your swollen folds, curling expertly to press down against that one spot that has your fist faltering on his cock. Hard. 

Pretty little moans left your lips at the way Satoru so easily matches your pace. Thrusting knuckle-deep into your pussy in and out - hitting that spot over and over.

“Shit, Toru- s’deep inside me. I’m- hngh-”

Satoru was in heaven, really. You were so warm and wet around both his fingers and his throbbing cock. 

Only two thoughts running through his mind right now - 1. He was right, your hands were softer and more sinfully delicious around his swollen cock. And 2. The hardest battle he’s ever fought was probably right now - at your mercy, trying not to spill all over your hands because he’d be damned if he finally scored the girl and came in two seconds.

Shit, he thinks fingers almost erratic now, he needs you to cum. Right now. 

As if sensing his urgency, your moves become more frantic, Satoru’s brows furrowing at the way you increase your pace. His hips twitch, as if trying to thrust into your fist. matching your pace as you start stroking him harder, faster. 

Ah, but alas, the great Gojo Satoru’s reputation precedes him. 

“Oh, fuck- M’gonna-” And soon enough, you’re seeing stars behind your eyes - or maybe those were tears - as you cum. Hard. 

Body moving before your mind, you’re clenching around Satoru’s fingers, grinding down so ferally as you edge him closer and closer. “C’mon, Toru. One more, right?” you whisper brokenly, lips ghosting his ear.

Breath coming in short, strained gasps of what sounded like your name now, “Oh- fuck ngh- so close.” he warns, voice hoarse. “If you keep doing that, I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

You smirk, raising a brow, “Is that a threat, Satoru?”

Willing his fucked-out eyes open, they bore into yours as he utters, “No, ah- it’s a p-promise.”

Without warning, Satoru clasps your wrists, forcing you to stop pumping him. The disappointed mewl threatening to spill from your lips is cut off just as your back hits the ground.

Slam!

You think you could almost get whiplash from how swiftly Satoru had you caged and splayed out so shamefully beneath him. 

You whine, “But you didn’t even get to-”

“Fuck, not now. Gotta feel you or else m’gonna cum so embarrassingly all over your fist.” He rests his throbbing erection laid out so enticingly across your stomach, leaking hot precum onto your skin. And that makes you shut up, eyes mapping where it ended and realizing that yeah, you might’ve faced more mercy with the curses outside of this box. “Besides. One more, right?”

And before you can respond, Satoru’s spitting on you once. Twice. Thrice.

You flinch as the wads of saliva hit your dripping cunt, mixing with your slick so obscenely as Satoru smears it across your swollen folds. Your mouth drops into a soft oh! of disbelief as he promptly pops his thumb into his mouth, groaning at the taste. 

“Shit.” Satoru hisses lowly, “One more might just not be enough.”

Not wasting a moment longer, he’s bullying his throbbing cock into your snug cunt. Head thrown back as your plush walls desperately try to accommodate his size.

“Oh. Oh shit hah- should’ve been locked up here ngh- sooner.” he groans, words straight from his cock. “Feel s’heavenly around m-me.” Because God Satoru thinks he wouldn’t even mind staying here for the rest of his life if it meant he got to have you like this.

You moan at the positively delicious stretch of your pussy, plush walls unable to decide between pushing him out and milking the soul out of him. “Hah- Toru s’too big. I can’t-” 

“You will.” he grits out, teeth clenched and brows furrowed as he focuses on letting you adjust. Pressing inch by fucking inch. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he fights that feral part of himself that just wants to plunge into your pretty pussy till his tip kisses your cervix, and you’re drunk on nothing but his cock.

But he didn’t have to - because you’re immediately wrapping your legs around his toned waist, pulling Satoru to you recklessly until his heavy balls smack your ass. Tufts of snowy white hair - already so wet with your slick and his precum - finally meeting your cunt.

“Ah! Shit, s’full Toru.” you keen, body bowing into his.

There’s not even a hair's breadth between your bodies now as Satoru chuckles darkly. “You little minx. Thought you couldn’t handle me, but you really wanted to be split apart on my cock, huh?”

You feel almost shy under his gaze as you mumble out a quiet little, “Well you did say one more.”

Ah, Satoru thinks deliriously, if you aren’t Mrs. Gojo by the time you two get out of this then there’s seriously something wrong with him. 

But he doesn’t tell you that. Instead with a satisfied smirk, he claims your lips in a searing kiss, sucking your tongue so lewdly as he did with your cunt. Parting for only a second before pressing his lips to yours again. And again. And again, as if it hurt to part.

“Mhm. Always wanted to do this, sweetheart.” he hums against your pretty lips. “Fuck ever since you hah- walked in on that first day.” 

Kissing you sweetly with a tenderness that doesn’t translate to his hips as pulls back, back, back. All the way till his angry, hard tip was just grazing your sloppy entrance. “One more.”

Body moving before his mind, his hips start fucking into your dripping cunt recklessly. Satoru doesn’t fuck you with the finesse he imagined he would all these years, rough, harsh thrusts fueled by pure need and all the desperation from these last few years.

In one, fluid movement, the burn of the stretch hits you before the realization that Satoru has thrown your legs over his sculpted shoulders. 

“Ah- So good, Toru. Oh my god- hah-” you mewl at the change in angle. His pulsing dick expertly hitting that one spot inside you which has your words slurring together, body arching off the floor to press so impossibly close against him. 

And, well, Satoru isn’t any better - because he’s slamming his cock into you mindlessly. Hitting that spot over and over. 

With one hand, he caresses your stomach. Whispering out a ragged, “Feel me inside? Feel me right…” Pressing his palm down hard, “Here.”

The other forces you to look up at him, drinking in your whines of “Yes yes yes, can feel you s-so deep hngh- inside me, Toru.” 

You’re so cockdrunk and full of Satoru that you barely notice the hands groping their way down your body. Catching harshly on your swollen clit, starting to draw, quick, frenzied circles that match the cadence of his hips smacking into yours. 

“Look at me.” he murmurs raspily, “Open your mouth.”

And you can do nothing but take it, tongue lolling out so lewdly for the warm stream of spit that hits it. Once. Twice. 

You look up at him with teary eyes, as you take it all -  anything and everything he was giving. And it makes Satoru bow his head with a fucked-out groan, cock twitching so animalistically as it keeps plunging inside you roughly. Deft fingers on your clit becoming more desperate.

Harder. Faster. Balls squeezing so painfully. Like a lamb to slaughter, he was going to eat you up - and you were going to let thim.

You squeal at the overstimulation, hips bucking up for more more more-

“God, sweetheart, you don’t know what you do to me.” he moans, voice strained with desire and the euphoria of getting everything he’s wanted for so long. It was driving him insane. “Now c’mon. One more. Give me one more like my good girl.”

“Hngh- yes- Toru!”

You don’t even know what “one more” means anymore - all you do know is that you’re cumming and cumming all around Satoru’s unforgiving cock. Walls fluttering so snugly, your body convulses as you cream around his cock. Nails dragging down the expanse of his sculpted back, Satoru’s name leaving your bruised lips and into the heady air like a prayer every time his tip kisses your cervix. His new favorite melody.

And that seems to be what makes him snap as well - because with a final, sloppy thrust, he’s painting your walls such a sinful white. Pumping thick, hot ropes of his cum into your quivering cunt. 

“Shit- yeah, my girl. Take it. Take it all f’me.” Satoru shudders above you, head thrown back, chest heaving as he fucks you through your high. Movements nothing more than shallow, mindless little thrusts to get you both off so animalistically. 

It was so fucking filthy - and exactly what you needed so badly. He was exactly what you needed so badly. 

Now, Satoru only had to take one look as you use him so obscenely for your pleasure - eyes dazed, drool trickling down the corner of your mouth - before he thinks he might just cum again. And again. And again until he physically couldn’t anymore.

But first…

Pulling out of your heavenly pussy with a lewd pop! His long fingers delicately collects the mixture of slick and cum now gushing out of you obscenely. 

Aw, what a waste, Satoru muses as it pools below you sinfully. If it was up to him he wouldn’t waste a single drop from your pretty cunt. 

But no matter. 

Abruptly, Satoru bullies two fingers into your mouth - forcing you to taste yourself, to taste him. Pressing right at the back of your tongue in a way that has you choking and gagging around him, teary eyes just begging up at him. Perfect - you were so perfect for him. 

Kissing your forehead with a tenderness that doesn’t match his actions, he hums, faux innocence lacing his words, “What a shame, the box didn’t open yet.”

And oh does he love the excitement lighting up your exhausted eyes. Pretty thighs twitching underneath him as a slow, fucked-out little smile curls your lips. 

“One more? Please?”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[onskepa]

Hi how are you? If you want, could you tell us what your headcanons would be for what the Sully children's relationship would be like with a human/avatar mother who was mated with Jake and Neytiri? Thank you very much, have a great day!

I can see a lot of possible outcomes for this one! So here ya go! Enjoy!

P.S: Reader will not be given a name in this one, instead she will be called "small mama"

Pinnacle protection

-------------------------------

Pinnacle motherhood

Right off the bat, the whole family loves their third mother, second mate. Jake sully couldn't ask for a better family, and better mates. Especially his little human mate. Neytiri will agree with him, while yes she has her children to hug, her little mate is just what she needs. Something small yet full of love just for her. 

Now like any trio, there is a balance between the parents. Jake is the head of the family, the brains with his clever ideas. Neytiri at times can be the brains but most muscle due to her skills in fighting and hunting. And their beloved human is the heart of the family. Keeping everyone together. 

And like any child, the sully kids will have favorites. And their favorite is their amazing human mother. She is the most fun, loving parent any child could ever ask for. Are they not getting their way with Jake or neytiri? To mama it is! And mama will always fold by the simple look of her kids. 

Another thing about their favorite mama, they all believe she has the power to read their minds. How else would it explain she knows their next move? 

Lo’ak and tuk can recall so many instances where they were barely forming an idea only for their mama to say “dont even think about it” or “it is not worth the trouble”. 

For neteyam, as he is the oldest he does try to be a good example for his mischievous siblings, along with holding so many responsibilities, but he can always count on his small mama for anything. Small mama consoles him, talking about anything neteyam has his mind about. 

Unlike Jake or neytiri who neteyam has to put up a strong warrior face, with a small mama he can revert back to being a baby with her. He feels safe and be a kid again with her. And small mama always called him her “little baby boy”. Neteyam won't admit it but he likes it when she calls him that. 

For kiri, she definitely adores her small mama. She is closer to her third parent than she is with neytiri. Not to be mean or anything. But with Jake, Kiri can talk about what odd things happen around her, ask her about her mother and stuff but with her small mama. Well, she can express far more with her, be free to say anything not be judged upon. Kiri can dare say small mama understands her more than anyone in the world.

With tuk, the baby of the family. Why, she loves to be the taller one, it makes her happy. Of course she would never tease her small mama that she is taller, but small mama would call her “tiny tuk”. A name tuk loves and will glady flex it for some reason. 

If tuk can't go somewhere with her older siblings, small mama would personally take her anywhere she wants to go. As long as it is safe. With small mama, everything is fun and never boring. Tuk loves the times where her hair is braided or she braids small mama’s hair. 

Now, if small mama would use her avatar, nothing much would change. Except that now the kids will demand piggy back rides. Tuk or lo’ak would be front of the line for that.  

Hunting would be easier and much more fun with jake and neytiri, running, riding their ikrans, less risk overall. 

Even with her avatar, she is still short compared to her two mates. She is smaller than Neytiri by 9 ½ inches. Not something she is super thrilled about. No matter what body, she is still small mama through and through. 

Small mama is forever grateful to live her best life with her family, loving them and saying her thanks to Eywa for blessing her to be the best of her two worlds. Through hardships, through trials, small mama has a mighty heart and a roar of an ikran. Yes sometimes she might be stressed or frustrated but life is not perfect. Small mama knows that all too well. But there is nothing better than what she has. 

[assumptionprime]

Playing Dark Souls 2 again and damn, in spite of its rough edges, I think it’s my favorite.

They’re all good, mind you. Dark Souls 1 is the foundation, and 3 is playing the hits while also saying that it can’t just play the hits forever and has to end.

And Dark Souls 2 is doing its own weird different thing and I love it.

I think it has the best story of the three games, because it really concerns itself with people.

The intro isn’t a list of people and monsters you need to kill, it’s your story. How you came into this land. You are afflicted with the curse of undeath, and it’s destroying your life and your mind. Everything that follows is based around that. You’re not the Chosen Undead, a title put on you in the first game because of a role you’re expected to play in some legend. You’re the Bearer of the Curse, because that’s your concern in all this, your curse.

You see it afflict others throughout the game, too. Most of the characters in Majula can’t remember how they got here, their goals, their lives before Drangleic are fading, same as yours. Lucatiel is by far my favorite NPC in any Souls game, a tragic view of another cursed undead that doesn’t quite make it. You fight alongside her. She confides in you, forms a bond with you. And then, as the last remnants of her mind, her self, leave her, she begs you to remember her name. Vendrick, the mighty king of Drangleic, is a shell of himself. He shuffles around in his own tomb, having long ago succumbed to the curse. He may as well already be dead. In every way that matters, he is.

And if you don’t figure something out, it’s going to happen to you, too.

Some to do has been made about the world layout not making sense. Some say it’s bad design or development troubles leading to compromises. Others say it’s intentional, that time and space are warped, though I think that’s either not true here or done much better in DS3. I subscribe to a third camp I’ve seen a bit less frequently: These nonsensical ways you move between some of these places are because you forgot how you got from one place to the other.

“So you got to the top of the tower, then what?”

“Oh, then I got on an elevator, which took me up— up to… I was on an elevator… then I was in an old keep sinking into a lake of lava.”

You’re losing your mind and your memory, you just can’t remember what happened between Earthen Peak and Old Iron Keep.

So you go slay the old ones, find Vendrick, seek out the ancient dragon, defeat Nashandra and—

It doesn’t work. You don’t cure the curse. You can either take the throne, or keep looking for a cure. We don’t see what kind of monarch you are to your ruined kingdom if you stay. And we don’t see you find a cure to the curse if you leave.

You lose.

It’s left to you to decide, does continuing to fight this fate have meaning? Is the struggle, in and of itself, worthwhile?

Dark Souls 2 is about going Hollow, and I love that it goes in such a different direction with its lore and story to be that.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Between A Rock And A Hard Place

Male Yandere Human-like Golem x Gender Neutral Human Reader (CW: Noncon, huge dick, golem man, magic, fatal violence towards bandits, spit used as lube, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 1.8k (Sorry this took forever, was originally going to be a drabble and then kinda got away from me, hope you all enjoy huge dick golem man.)

The small town that you lived in, Somnheim, had been victim to a swathe of horrible luck. Raided by bandits, packs of beasts killing livestock, and enemy soldiers scavenging what they could. Finally the town had enough and sent for a practitioner of the magic arts to aid them in the defense of their village.

This was you.

They didn’t have much but they offered a home and food for your services. You figured you could help them and have a quiet place to conduct your research away from the prying eyes of the council, who liked to hold newer mages under their thumb. It would also just be something nice you could do for your fellow humans, and these folks clearly needed the help.

You didn’t want to stay in this place forever though, so your solution would have to be one that would last long after you were gone.

Given your expertise in summoning and animating the logical choice was a good, old fashioned, golem. A pentagram, some select incense, clay flesh molded to a slate skeleton and imbued with an amethyst heart carrying an artificial soul, some runes carved in, and a scroll inserted that would have him follow his purpose and give him personality.

Then just add in a spell that turned the humanoid clay man into something more human so as not to frighten the villagers too badly and make him able to experience a near human existence.

The ritual was a complete success. Of course it was. You were you after all, young but talented and more importantly utterly dedicated to your craft.

Somnheim now had a mighty protector. An artificial man over 9 feet tall, with huge bulging muscles, shaggy brown hair, stoic brown eyes that gave nothing away, and glowing green runes on his arms and legs. The spell that made him human-like was more than just visual, it gave him nearly all the functions of a human male, he’d be as durable and strong as the hardest metal, never age, and of course he was certainly infertile.

Not one for creative names, you named him Slate.

Eventually bandits came by and decided they would stock up in Somnheim before going on to bigger and better loot.

They did not live to regret that decision.

Slate simply rolled a massive boulder down the hill they approached from and flattened all but a couple. Those he took care of quickly with magically precise throws of average sized stones.

Over the months any threat he couldn’t flatten with a boulder or smack with a stone he would pop open with his mighty fists.

By the end of his first year as the village’s guardian he was beloved by every single townsperson. Even the tiny children, who would climb on him and put flowers in his shaggy hair as he smiled and watched, had no fear of him.

You had enjoyed your time there, but eventually it was time for a change of scenery. You wanted to do more field research and you had saved enough money up with side projects to be able to fund a trip to the other side of the country near The Great Forest.

The villagers were grateful and sad to see you go, but they were much more interested in Slate than you.

But when you packed your bags to leave behind your wattle and daub dwelling once and for all you found yourself blocked by Slate.

He uttered one word in that deep, almost monotone, voice of his.

“No.”

“What do you mean no? I have to leave.” You tried to squeeze past him but he was not having it.

“I must protect the village… Your presence here makes the village safer… I might need repairs… or reinforcements… And you also tasked me with keeping you safe…”

You fudged the wording. You, breather of life into stone, weaver of clay, and creator of souls, messed up the wording.

He picked you up like a box of luggage and sat you on a chair in your makeshift study before going over to the heaviest bookshelf, picking it up, and placing it in front of the only door so you couldn’t escape.

“I’ll move it when I need to leave… then I will put a rock outside to keep you here…”

And that became your life. A literal prisoner in your own home.

Your magical abilities were useless in this situation, you were not a battlemage that could explode a wall, you couldn’t teleport, you bent earth.

Of course you tried to tunnel your way out by making a hole under your bed, but Slate had walked in and caught you red handed. He had confiscated and locked away all your magical supplies and texts unless you needed them to repair him you were not getting them back.

Slate was tentative enough of your physical needs, bringing you food and water and taking you outside like some sort of pet for sunlight, fresh air, and exercise. You had tried to run away but of course he had inhuman speed. And the villagers refused to help. What if Slate refused to save them if they did that?

It was a fair concern, he was made to protect the village and not villagers, he may even see them as a threat if they assisted you. You were on your own.

Though you were healthy enough physically your mental condition was deteriorating rapidly. How could you not be? Being trapped in the same building, even with trips outside, was awful. The villagers only looked at you with pity if they looked at you at all, and no one would even talk to you anymore.

It got to the point where you barely eat, refused to go outside, and spent all your time laying in bed.

Slate was failing the magical directives that governed his personality and behavior. You were clearly not safe, he was convinced that you would die if this continued, and honestly you likely would… eventually…

But the golem was not incapable of learning. He observed the other humans to find out what he could add to your life to bring you back to your usual self.

One night, when he was sitting in front of the house watching the humans passing by and holding hands, he came to the conclusion that humans had families, they lived together in their dwellings and they loved each other. They coupled together and mated.

Up until this point Slate had only been directed by simple emotion and the unyielding parchment that had imbued him with his goals. But now his task demanded something more of him, it demanded a much more complex emotion. The magic in him allowed this evolution, and now he was much more dangerous because he loved you. But it wasn’t just love he felt for the first time, it was lust.

Slate’s expression became one of someone thinking about the one who they adored infinitely, an expression of a man thinking about the person he wanted to have writhing in pleasure beneath him, even his normally green runes and brown eyes took on an amorous pink glow.

When you heard the boulder blocking the door shift and then heard the bookshelf take its place as what was blocking your way out as Slate came lumbering in with his heavy steps you didn’t even glance up.

Not until he stood in front of you and you noticed his strange pink glow replacing his green one did you stir.

You sat up in bed and when you saw the strange way his normally near emotionless eyes were staring at you, and glowing, you scooted away.

“I know what you need now! I am so sorry for not realizing sooner…” He said in a surprisingly soothing tone, a stark departure from his normally deep monotone.

“What do yo-”

Your words were forgotten as he took off his shirt and pants revealing a sweaty body and a frighteningly large cock.

“You need a partner to be happy, like the other humans, and you need to mate!”

He sounded very eager.

“No! Uh… I don’t need to… mate. I need to lea-” he put a large finger over your lips and shushed you before gripping your pants and peeling them and your underwear away from you carefully.

There was no dissuading him from his chosen course of action, he would make you happy and keep you safe no matter what!

It’s what you needed.

Slate leaned forward and spit all over your hole, thoroughly lubing it with his spit, before pressing his big cock into your hole.

It was so large that you let out a whimper of pain at first, but he was somehow knowledgeable enough about sex to know he needed to let you adjust to the size rather than just ramming himself in.

You gasped and writhed but he held you still with his massive hands running up and down your sides as he slowly pulled you down on his prick.

Slate was in complete heaven, he had never really known much pleasure of any kind, let alone the type that came with burying his cock in someone he was now completely obsessed with.

He had no idea his dick could be used for this at all, but now that he did he would certainly be doing this everyday, maybe even a couple times a day! The perfect blend of heat and softness was amazing.

As he began to thrust slowly, with a blissed out expression as he stared up at nothing with drool coming out of his mouth, you couldn’t help but moan in pleasure as his cock caressed your depths perfectly.

Hearing your breathy moans snapped him back to reality. You were finally happy again~

The treatment was working! That settled it, he would do this every single day no matter what!

Carefully gripping your sides a bit more firmly he moved your entire body back and forth on his cock. You couldn’t help it, your whole body twitched with the force of a massive orgasm. The sensation of your body spasming around his previously virgin dick caused him to slam in deep and cum hard.

He pulled you close, holding your head into his muscular chest as he panted, his dick still firmly impaling your limp body. You hadn’t been eating much and this serious fucking had taken a lot out of you.

Slate cleaned the two of you up, bathing you gently before taking advantage of your compliant state by spoon feeding you some dinner he had brought from a town person.

Mating with you made you so pleasured and too tired to resist him when he took care of you, he almost couldn’t wait until you had enough energy to do it again, his cock strained in his pants with anticipation.

[shomixremix]

HERDING THE CATTLE ♥︎

i saw something about this prompt on here like two years ago and it's been stuck in my head ever since ♡︎

tags: Arataki Itto, afab! reader, cow hybrid! reader, smut, fluff, marking, mating, rough sex, petnames, cowgirl, breeding, creampie

-> you are a small cow hybrid auctioned off to a slaughterhouse since you couldn't produce enough milk and were never calm. the arataki gang saved you, and your new master - the one and oni Arataki Itto - knows just how to keep you in check.

reqs open ♡︎ | minors DNI

"Ahh!! Itto! Itto-ooh! Mh! I-Itto!"

You whined as the Oni bounced you on his cock like you were weightless, watching in amusement as you cried in overstimulation. What was this, your ninth, tenth time cumming? You lost count. Itto never let you rest, not even for a second, bouncing you on his lap through every orgasm.

"Aww, you'r' so cute, love bug... Such a cute little cow, ain't ya'? Don't cry now, sweets, this is what ya' wanted, yeah? Only way I can tire you out, baby~"

Your master cooed, teasing you about being so restless. Oh, how you wished you could take everything back! No, you weren't bursting with energy like you said earlier, no, you couldn't go on forever - your legs were practically jelly at this point, your limp body completely at mercy to Itto.

He used you like a cocksleeve, dragged on his dick whenever he wanted and for however long he wanted - and you loved it. Life was good in the Arataki gang: you always had food, a place to sleep and protection provided to you, at all times. You also had a very tall, very strong and very handsome demon filling you up and breeding you almost daily, making sure your cushy womb was never empty.

The space where you connected was a mess. A glorious mess of both your and his juices seeping out of your hole, being fucked back in each time Itto would trust back. Just as every other day, your gummy walls pulsed around his length, making him shoot yet another load inside you.

"Fuck, baby... Makin' me lose my mind and shit..... So good.... Give me a little taste of that milk, will ya'?"

His large palms left your hips, greedily grabbing at the fat flesh of your boobs. As soon as he squeezed down just a tiny bit, a small stream of milk burst out, hitting Itto in the face. You were instantly mortified. Itto was your master, he saved you from certain death, and now you embarass him like this-

"I'm s-sorry Itto-! So sorry! Didn't mean to, I r-really didn't mean to!"

Instead of scolding you like you were sure any other owner would, the Oni burst out laughing. His laugh was like a roar, shaking his entire body - and with him, you as well.

"Hah, those jerks at the farm jus' didn't know how to milk ya', sweets, 'cause you look full of milk to me!"

It was true - even though you were sold to a slaughterhouse for failing to produce milk, you started leaking like crazy the moment Itto took you as his. That vet back at the farm you grow up on always said that you'd start producing milk if they paired you with a bull, and what better bull than a large, demon one?

Their loss, anyway. Now, all your milk belonged to Itto and his warm mouth, and not to some sketchy farmers who were only interested in selling it.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of his sharp fangs on your nips, greedily sucking at the flesh and gulping down the sweet drink. His dick twitched inside you as he continued feasting, your own arms tightening around his head to pull him closer.

The second he detached himself from your chest he thrust out harshly, in the process accidentally completely pushing you from his lap. Even though Itto was mighty and strong, he wasn't exactly the sharpest. There was a slight possibility that he was so occupied with whatever he was doing that he forgot you were on him.

You watched as he stood up, leaving you sitting on your knees on the ground. The Oni spit a bit of your milk on his palm, then using that same hand to roughly jerk his cock. It was more than obvious that milk was one of his kinks.

Oh, but why would he jerk off with milk as lube when you were right there...? On your knees, right next to him, ready and waiting and... Oh, Archons, were you not enough for him anymore..?

When Itto first saved you, the deal was that you'd stay in the Arataki gang until they found you a new home. However, Itto insisted they keep you, even proclaimed you as his own "pretty girl that no one can touch!" He kept you all to himself, fell asleep with you in his arms at night, brought you any awesome flowers he found, even took you on good, honest dates when he'd get a little Mora! He even acted on his demon urges and sunk his fangs into your neck, mating you!

But what if he didn't want to spend the rest of his life with a little, useless cow? What if that wasn't even enough for his sexual urges any more..?

"I-Itto..." You cry, big tears pooling up in the corners of even bigger eyes, threatening to spill at any moment.

At the mention of his name the Oni turns to you, shocked to see you crying.

"Hey, hey, hey! Baby, what's wrong?!"

"Need you.... P-please..."

Not another word needed to be said. Itto immediately reacted, grabbing your soft, much smaller body and seating it once again on his lap, entering you in one swift trust until his tip was snuggly kissing your cervix.

"Shhh, sweets... Let your Oni take care of ya', hm? No need to cry! I thought you couldn't go on, love bug, that's why I stopped! But you really are a restless one, huh, calfie?"

You smiled warmely at the nickname as your head went fuzzy. You laid your pretty head on Arataki's chest - like always - and let him have complete control of how he fucks you.

Each one of his thrust was faster and more brutal than the last. Your pussy was already crying out, threatening to cum just from the first few thrusts. Itto noticed, pinching your puffy clit between his claws and rolling it around.

"OH, ITTO!" You scream in ecstasy, riding your high.

Your master wasn't going to be able to last much longer. With you bouncing on his cock the way you were and how your sweet little cunt was so tight that it was milking him dry, Itto lasted only a couple more thrusts.

"Hah... Haaah... Fuck, love bug... Really wanna milk me too, don't ya'? Ahh... Mmm.. Gonna breed you.. Hah... Gonna breed ya' so good, sweets.. You'll be all nice and full, and you'll get pregnant with my calfs, yeah? Put all that milk to good use, hm? Yeah, yeah!"

He started cumming as well, shooting rope after rope after rope of his sweet release inside you. You were filled to the rim, juices leaking out of your satisfied hole. Arataki didn't let any of it go to waste, his fingertips catching whatever's left and pushing it in.

As soon as you were filled, your hands reached for him, seeking comfort in his warm arms. Itto obliged instantly, carrying you like you were weightless, to the nearby camp they set up. Your master entered his tent, the biggest of the bunch, wrapping your body in a soft blanket and once again settling you in his arms.

"There ya' go, love bug. Comfy?" You nodded, which made Itto break out in a toothy grin. "Well, of course it is! The great numero uno Itto is at your service, baby, of course everything is awesome!"

You chuckled at the way he tooted his own horn, kissing his cheek and hiding your face in his large neck and shoulder.

"G'night, Itto.. Thank you..."

The Oni found your actions adorable, cooing at you: "Awww, sweets, no need to thank me! You know I always gocha. Thank you for being so good f' me, yeah? You're such a good, pretty little cow... I don't know how I got so lucky!"

He pressed a loving kiss on your forehead, caressing your legs with his large palm.

"G'night, baby.."

[yandere-sins]

God I love Drugged! Darling. It's fucked up but I like it. I've been having thoughts about what with a drugged darling escaping but then starting to go through withdrawal for whatever they've been dosed up on leading to their recapture

Mhm, delicious!! Thanks for requesting ^-^

Warning for Yandere and Drugs (+ side-effects like sickness)

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

♡ It's been a while since your last hit, and honestly, you've been doing great! You would have run away much earlier if you knew it would be that easy. You feel so damn unstoppable as you make your way through the forest, unable to feel your feet hurting or your heart crying for a break. It's so freeing! Life is suddenly good again! You thought you'd be on the leash of that madman forever, but looking back at it now, you never realized how strong and capable you were of taking care of yourself. He tried to tell you that you were nothing without him, that you needed him. But you don't need anyone; you have all the power you need!

♡ Slowly, you come to a halt. Surely you ran far enough away from the horror house your yan kept you in, right? You've been running for hours, and not even branches or bushes could stop you even though they tried to hold you back by bumping into you and snagging your clothes, little scratches littering your body as you seek shelter from the nightfall in an abandoned building. At least you'll be safe from the wind and rain if the weather changes, it seems suitable for your first night of freedom even though there's no comfort in the cold walls. But being able to choose where you rest for the night is enough to make you feel ecstatic, it's been so long since you've been given the choice to do what you wanted.

♡ Truth be told, you could have continued onwards, maybe even made it back to the city before sunrise if you kept running. Your heart was still pumping the blood through your veins vigorously, and your legs only started to wobble the moment you slowed down the pace. When you lean forward to sit on the floor, your knees cave in, and you drop to the ground, smashing your face into the cold concrete, but all you can do is laugh. It didn't hurt you at all. This is what freedom is all about, and your body knows it. You could have gotten up at any second; you were strong and amazing. You had gotten away all on your own without any help, and life was getting good again. But before you realize the change inside of you, you are overcome with exhaustion. Whatever! You have all the time in the world, now that you escaped! No one can stop you anymore, especially not that psycho who kidnapped you in the first place! A little rest, and you'd be up and running the last stretch, finally reuniting with civilization. Everything would be okay again!

♡ When you wake up just a couple hours later, you feel the cold sweat clinging to your skin like a faint reminder of failure. The sun was still far from rising, the ground hard and icy. Every bone in your body is rigid, and a mighty headache blooms in your head, pushing and punching against your skull as if trying to break out. Nothing could have warned you from throwing up the second you sat up, your stomach too empty to produce vomit, yet you gag and dry heave as if your life depends on it. With tears falling from your eyes, you wipe your mouth, looking up at your blurry surroundings and wondering where you are. Even when you plant your feet firmly on the ground, the second you try to shift your weight onto your legs, you crumple to the ground again helplessly. Despite the obvious pains, you can barely feel your aching muscles, yet they don't let you get up even one inch from the ground.

♡ As you sit there, listening to the bird chirping in the trees above you, every sound feels like a smack over the head, the world spinning madly. You try to recollect what happened and try to think about your intentions and goals. It all seems so far away. You are thirsty beyond anything you have ever felt, your throat clenching desperately every time you swallow. The feeling makes you want to throw up again, but you breathe deeply until it disappears. It's all you can do as you lie inside the dilapidated building. Where have you gone wrong? Why did you feel so free and light yesterday, but now you cannot even move? Life was supposed to be good now... why doesn't it feel that way.

♡ "Look who's finally calmed down," someone remarks, followed by the sound of a foot hitting a bottle. The screeching grates on your nerves, and you cover your ears with your hands, trying to block it out. "What a dinky place..." the voice mutters, and it is so much closer now, even through your covered ears. Someone touches your face, wiping a thumb along your lips. You feel the wet dirt and spit being pushed aside as the warm touch lures you out of your defenses. Your headache has prevented you from realizing it, but when you look into the face of the person who captured you, you flinch. How could they find you? You had run so far!

♡ "Thought you gotten away?" they mock you, grinning smugly at the perplexed look on your face. "Darling, you've barely made it ten minutes from our home."

♡ A small part of you wonders if they are telling the truth, but another wave of nausea hits before you can ponder it. "I feel sick," you mumble as you bend over, crying as violent contractions go through you. "I don't know what's going on."

♡ "There, there," the yan comforts you, rubbing your back with their warm hand, a groan escaping you from how good it feels when their warmth seeps into your frigid bones and muscles. "It's okay now, I got you."

♡ "No..." you mewl, slightly pushing away from your captor. Every inch of your being wants to throw yourself into their warmth, but your clouded, unfocused mind knows better. You push away from them harder, losing your balance and threatening to collapse on your side, but they catch you. "No, I've gotten so far! I left you behind for good!"

♡ "And you got sick and injured while doing it; I'm so proud of you," they mumble sarcastically as they pull you into their arms, lifting you off the ground. You hate how soft they are, how well you can rest your aching head on their broad shoulder. You desire their touch all over you just so you can feel their warmth equally everywhere. "I don't need you... don't want you," you mutter as you sling your arms sleepily around their neck.

♡ "Yes, well, you need a bath and want some of your medicine, I'm sure," your captor mumbles, their steps so light as they carried you through the woods you had run through just yesterday. You know they lied about the distance when it took them forever to get back to the gruesome place they called home. You even doze off as they rub your back, nuzzling your face into their body and making them chuckle.

♡ "I hate you," you whisper as you stay still in the bathtub, letting them wash off all the dirt and blood from your body. The hot water feels outrageously good, and everything smells wonderfully like your favorite soap. They knead all the sore spots on your body, and before they started washing you, they made sure you drank almost an entire bottle of water and ate a chocolate bar from your favorite brand. You never want to get out of the bath again, but although their hands linger uncomfortably on your body for a while, soon your captor pulls the plug, and you whine as the bathwater disappears.

♡ Your captor sighs as they look down at your battered and limb body, your eyes hooded with exhaustion. You still feel sick to your stomach, but with the water gone, a chill rakes over your skin, making you shiver. Before you can try to move yourself, you are wrapped into a soft towel and lifted out of the bath and onto the bed instead. Your captor puts a warm hoodie over your head before letting you fall into the plush around you, and you sigh contentedly. The moment you lay down on the soft mattress, all your resistance and plans to leave are pushed far, far out of your mind. All you want is to bundle up in a blanket and sleep away the sickness that had overcome you.

♡ Complaining when your kidnapper does nothing to help you bury yourself in pillows and blankets, you grumble when you feel their weight dip the mattress to your left. The grating sound of the drawer beside the bed being opened leaves you exasperated and you try to roll away from your captor. "Come on," your captor coos gently, catching your arm that you thought you did a good job hiding from him. Not good enough, apparently, as you feel your sleeve being pulled up, the cold air biting against your skin.

♡ "I'm tired," you complain, and they hum in acknowledgment. "You can sleep in just a second. I just want you to feel better soon and be on your best behavior tomorrow. I hate seeing you so sick and having to pick you up from a random ditch in the forest." With your mess of a mind, you find no fault in what they are saying. You don't want to be sick either anymore; you want to feel light and happy again, able to run and make plans to escape this awful person you hate so much.

♡ "Now give me your arm; stop twisting it," they order, and you comply, pouting. You know you'll feel better soon and can finally fight them again. But not right now. You need to get better first. Some medicine, and surely, you'd be up and running in no time.

♡ "Here we go, and I didn't overdo it this time."

[starsxblazing]

Hi friend! I had an idea that perhaps you could bring to life. Its an azriel x reader. Where shes a seamstress for Rhys, she makes all his suits and all the beautiful gowns and dresses for the girls to wear. She even makes their leathers for fighting. I imagine one of them or maybe a few of them make a comment on how she's no one important and kinda belittles her work cuz shes just a seamstress. Rhys brings all 3 males to be measured for suits and azriel is getting flushed as readers kneeling to measure the length of his pants and the slit for his wings. Rhys sees Azriel blush and gives him a stern look shaking his head like "not this one." She doesnt look them in they eye, and rhys doesnt tell azriel anything about her. Like shes rhys best kept secret. Reader feels like the IC is so much better than her and thats why they sometimes say mean things (maybe someone asks elain where her dress is from and she just scoffs like "this old thing") but its actually a protective rhys trying to keep her safe cuz she reminds him so much of his deceased sister. Bond snaps but readers so insecure she wants to decline. Sorry this was so long. Lol. Just trying to get the jist of it out. Non important seamstress reader, flushed azriel, brother like rhys. The end. 🤣🤣🤣

a/n: I really hope that I did your request justice! It was so cute writing a shy Azriel

Unnoticed

You sat at the front desk of the shop to place your order for your inventory, sighing to yourself as your eyes momentarily moved around the small store that you owned. It wasn’t anything special and was small compared to the many others in the city. There were so many other places that would be preferred by the citizens but this was your passion and refused to give up on it. The bell on the door rang and you looked up with a hopeful smile that turned into a grin when you saw who was striding in.

“Hey!” you started happily, thankful to see such a familiar face. “It feels like forever since I’ve seen you.”

“I will make it a top priority to come visit when it isn’t just for your services,” he chuckled.

“And what is it that I can do for the all mighty High Lord?” A giggle at his playful frown escaped you. “I’ve been looking forward to the new things that you always request.”

“We have a visit to the Day Court and it would be nice to have some new attire for the ball that Helion will be hosting.”

“That sounds so nice,” you sighed dreamily. “The same sizes as last time?”

“The females, yes.” He gave you a smile that was full of love and admiration that nearly brought tears to your eyes. “However, Azriel and Cassian will need to be measured since they usually do not wear this particular form of attire.”

“Just let me know when you’re ready and I’ll have everything set up.” You searched through the files under your desk to pull out the Inner Circles information. “I can go ahead and get what you have in mind so I can get it done in time.”

Rhysand gave you a small smile, the adoration still shining in his eyes. You were never sure why he looked at you in such a way but you appreciated it anyway. He was the only thing that came close to a friend since there were times where he would stay with you and talk for hours before departing again. You had no family since they were lost in the war but you were thankful that you had been able to take refuge in Velaris.

There were times when the High Lord would try to offer to move you into a larger store in a better part of the city. It was a sweet offer but you felt as if it was charity and you didn’t want any pity. The Night Court black that was used was always beautiful to you and your friend seemed to like the little details that you added to make it stand out a bit more while still fitting his court. 

Your store stayed in business simply because of Rhysand’s orders for his family because you made everything for them. He always assured you that they loved their dresses and gowns but there was always an emotion in his eyes that you couldn’t place when he did so. Despite that, you always put everything that you had into it. His family was important and special. All of them were nothing like you. Just a little nobody that had nothing but your little shop to keep you busy.

It wasn’t until three hours later that the High Lord left did you realize just how alone that you truly were. You wished that you had a family like he did but you forced your mind to remember how happy that you were for him. There were so many that you had come across in your life that only had half of what he did and even then, there wasn’t much happiness in it.

The next day, you made your way out to begin your search for the things that you would be able to find in town when you saw someone you recognized. It was one of the High Lady’s sisters but you weren’t sure which one it was. You did your best to not be noticed as the female spoke to another one but you were pretty sure that you wouldn’t be. 

“Where did you get your dress, Elain?” the female asked.

“This old thing?” Elain looked down at her dress, one that you had made, with her nose scrunched in distaste. “It came from some nobody seamstress. Rhys has never told us anything else.”

“Well, I think it’s beautiful.” The female’s head tilted slightly with a raised eyebrow. “It seems like you don’t like it.”

“It’s definitely not my favorite,” Elain huffed, scrunching her nose in the process.

Unable to hear anymore of the conversation, you turned and darted back to your shop. So many feelings had hit you all at once and you weren’t sure where to start as you began sobbing once you were in the safety of the building that you also lived in. You began doubting yourself and the work that you loved while also wondering if the male that you considered your friend has been lying to you all of this time. 

Even though you had cried yourself to sleep in the early afternoon, you were still unable to pull yourself out of bed the next morning. You could barely hear the knock on the front door but you ignored it. You had already felt like no one of any importance but the words that you had overheard only proved it. Not only was it from a customer but also from someone who would be able to destroy what tiny bit of name that you had for yourself in the city within an instant. Facing Rhysand again would be one of the hardest things that you had to do in a long time but you refused to let him down.

You allowed yourself to mope in bed for the remainder of the day in hopes that you would feel a bit better the next day. No sooner than you opened your store, the bell rang and you felt the High Lord’s power throughout the entirety of the small building.

Azriel had felt a bit frustrated when his brother dragged him out of bed and rushed him through his breakfast. He wasn’t sure what the hurry was, not seeing the big deal in getting fitted for new suits and leathers. In truth, he did need them but he felt as if it could’ve waited until a bit later in the day. His High Lord had a hint of eagerness to him that wasn’t so present unless it came to his mate or son.

He was only annoyed further when they arrived at what he could swear was the smallest shop in the entire city and there was no answer even after Rhysand had all but beat the door down. The store couldn’t even be considered to be in the district where most of the stores were but he was somewhat relieved because he was able to spend the rest of his day as he wanted.

Rhysand did the same thing the following day which had both him and Cassian grumbling about doing the same thing two days in a row. Thankfully, the store was open and his brother walked in as if he owned the place with a small smile on his face.

“Is everything alright?” Rhys asked the female at the front desk hesitantly, a hint of worry in his voice. “We came by as planned but there was no answer.”

“I had some business to take care of,” you muttered, causing him and Cassian to glance at each other in confusion. 

Neither of them knew who you were nor even knew of the business that was being run here. He watched carefully as you gathered what was needed and even though you carried yourself in a confident manner, you kept your eyes downcast. It was as if you didn’t have it in you to look them in the eyes. You had obviously done so with his brother but it appeared as if it wasn’t the case today.

From what he could see, he could tell that you were beautiful but what would confirm it the most would be some form of eye contact. He watched you carefully as you started with Cassian, fully committed to doing your job to perfection. You started with his other brother’s legs for his height and he only saw a smirk pulling on Cassian’s lips that he was trying to hold back. For reasons unknown to Azriel, it had him frowning and almost bristling at the sight.

You continued on with your work in silence except for a hum here or there when the High Lord asked you questions as if you didn’t want to speak to any of them. It wasn’t until you moved to him did he truly pay attention to you. He wasn’t sure why but the sight of you on your knees in front of him, with your notebook in hand, had heat creeping onto his face. The quietest snicker came from Cassian who had moved behind him. When he turned to glare at him, he noticed a stern look on Rhysand’s face that had his eyebrows furrowing.

Azriel’s body stiffened when your fingers brushed lightly against him to take other measures. He sucked in a quiet breath when you moved behind him to measure the slits for his wings and your fingers just barely grazed them. It sent a jolt of what felt like electricity through him. He cursed himself silently because it wasn’t the first time that his wings had been touched but there was something about yours that nearly had him wanting more of the contact.

He was slightly disappointed when you were finished too quickly for his liking and moved to Rhysand. You still kept your eyes downcast from all of them and it seemed to have the slightest frown tugging at the High Lord’s lips. Cassian continued to watch as if he too was wondering what was going on. 

“Everything should be ready in three weeks if that’s alright,” you said, giving Rhysand the briefest glance before returning to your desk.

Rhys ushered them out quickly and was unusually quiet. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that he was brooding. Neither Cassian nor himself knew anything about you so they weren’t sure what to say but his own curiosity got the better of him.

“Who is she?”

“No one for you to be concerned about,” the High Lord answered. “And you will stay away from her.”

He was given a stern glance but he could note the protective fondness in his eyes. It only caused him to wonder more but he kept quiet on the matter.

You were thankful for the time being that you didn’t have a lot of customers. The work of making suits and gowns for seven people would take a while but you were thankful that it gave you a break from your thoughts. You didn’t waste any waking hour, putting your greatest effort into it all in hopes that the gowns would be appreciated more.

A week had passed faster than you had originally imagined that it would and the only break in your concentration was the bell to your shop opening for the second time during the time. You shouldn’t have been surprised to see Rhysand before you, a small frown on his face as he looked down at you.

“As promised, I have come to spend some quality time with the most beautiful seamstress that I know,” he said with a grin that contradicted the caution in his eyes.

“You come to visit or check on my progress?” you asked, eyeing him for a moment before returning your work.

“As I said, I’ve come to visit,” he repeated gently. “Are you alright? You’re acting differently.”

“Fine,” you answered a bit too quickly to be believable. 

“I apologize when I say that I do not believe you.” There was a worried frown on his face that made your heart clench and tears almost formed in your eyes. “Talk to me.”

“I just..” You trailed off, unsure what to say or how to say it. “Why does it matter? I’m just trying to balance everything.”

It was a lie and they both knew it. There was worried determination on his face and you knew that he wouldn’t let it go but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him what happened. It could possibly cause a divide or rift between the family that you thought so highly of and you couldn’t have that.

“You’re evading,” he replied flatly before his face softened when he gripped your chin lightly to keep your attention on him. “I don’t like seeing you like this.”

“Your family is very important,” you muttered. “I just want to be sure that I make everything perfectly. There’s so many ideas going through my head and I’m just trying to be sure to keep it all together.”

“You are no less important than any of us.” His matter of fact words paired with his gentle smile had a small one forming on your face as well. “As a matter of fact, you are just as important if not more so than my entire family combines.”

“Why?” You moved out of his grip and stared at him flatly. “Look at m-”

“I do see you. Every single time I come in here.” Rhysand continued with a charming smile that caused you to huff. “There is nothing wrong with you.”

“Then why-” You stopped short, reminding yourself to not give into your emotions. “I have Feyre’s gown completed and this one that I’m almost finished with is for Nesta. Do you want to see?”

He nodded with a grin and followed you to a separate room in the back where you kept the outfits that you made. You watched him carefully for his reaction as he stared at the gown and then blew out a silent breath of relief at the genuine smile on his face.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, turning to grin brightly at you. “She will love it and this just may become her new preferred gown.”

“Promise?” you asked tentatively while you tried to decipher if he was lying or not.

“On my mate’s life,” he answered as a look of adoration etched into his features once again. 

“Is there anything that I should change about Amren’s, Mor’s, Nesta’s or..” You swallowed hard, the action not going unnoticed by the High Lord. “Elain’s? I want everything to be absolutely perfect for everyone for such an important event.”

“No.” He shook his head but the certainty in his eyes was answer enough. “I look forward to seeing what the rest look like.”

“I’ve made these my top priority so the leathers-”

“Can wait until you’re finished with these,” he replied. “What they have now will work until later.”

“Okay,” you whispered, gripping onto the kind reassurances to push you through your self deprecating thoughts before he pulled you into a tight embrace.

“I wish there was a way to make you realize just how special you are,” he muttered, squeezing tighter to emphasize it. “You remind me so much of my sister.”

Your eyes filled with tears immediately because it was no secret about what happened to his mother and sister. The fact that had such a high opinion of you that he would compare you to someone so important to him had you sobbing. He simply held you until your tears finally ceased and stayed with you for a few hours before returning to his court duties.

By the time that the door shut behind him, you felt a bit better but knew that you would never compare to any of them.

Azriel wasn’t able to keep his mind off of you while they waited for their new suits and gowns for the upcoming ball. He wasn’t sure why but despite his High Lord’s orders, he walked past your shop every so often to simply get a glimpse of you. Only once did he get a full view of your face and it took his breath away as he saw you smile at the only customer that he had noted that you had.

It was reaching the three week mark that you had given his brother and he was itching to ask the High Lord if he would let him retrieve the order. His gut told him that Rhysand wouldn’t allow it. He wasn’t sure why you were kept such a tight secret from all of them but Azriel knew that his brother meant it when he had given the order to stay away from you. 

“I can’t go with you today.” Azriel stopped just outside of the study, listening to Rhys as he spoke to Cassian. “I have to leave in a couple of hours to pick up our outfits for our trip to Day Court.”

“I don’t understand why none of us-”

“As I’ve said,” the High Lord growled, his voice low and almost deadly. “You need not worry about her.”

“Yea but she-”

“Is not a topic of discussion.”

The snappy tone of their brother had Cassion falling quiet on the topic but Azriel’s curiosity about you wouldn’t let him sit idly by. It was almost as if he was being pulled towards you and he couldn’t ignore it. He slipped out as silently as he had come in and disobeyed Rhysand’s orders. Even though the plan had already been arranged, Azriel wasn’t bothered with the anger that would surely ensue about him taking the initiative that was purely personal.

The bell on your store’s door sounded as he entered but you were so focused on your work that you didn’t notice his presence until he cleared his throat. You jumped from your stool, startled from the noise before you finally looked at him. It felt like the entire world stopped when you both made eye contact and he felt the one thing that he was beginning to believe that he would never have.

Your eyes went wide and you stumbled backwards, tripping over your stool and fell to the ground in surprise as the golden thread connected the two of you. He rushed as fast as he could through the small area, his wings knocking some items over even though his wings were tucked in tightly behind him. A breath of relief escaped him when you didn’t recoil from him when he reached to help you up.

“I- I don’t- What?” you gasped through heavy breaths as you stood.

“I’m- I’m sorry,” he stuttered, unsure what to say since he didn’t know what you were thinking. 

“No. Don’t be. I just..” You took a deep breath before fully looking at him again. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

Your words barely registered in his mind as he stared back at you, your beauty captivating him the longer that he did so. There were so many things that he wanted to say but at the same time being unsure since he didn’t know you. No sooner than he could open his mouth to reassure you, the front door opened and he felt the High Lord’s power filling the store. His brother was angry beyond belief with him.

“Y/N, would you mind stepping outside for a moment while I have a word with my spymaster.”

Azriel could feel the uncertainty and anger flowing off of you but you nodded after swallowing audibly. Once you were out in the streets, Rhysand had him by the collar of his shirt and shoved him harshly into the wall. There was nothing but pure, unadulterated anger on his brother’s face.

“Did I or did I not tell you to stay away from her?” Rhys growled.

“Yes but-”

“But what, Azriel?” he snapped at him. “Are you simply attracted to females that I insist on you staying away from?”

“It isn’t like that,” he tried. “Why are you so insistent on no one knowing about her? None of us even knew that she existed until now.”

“Because I want to protect her.” Azriel was released before Rhysand took a few steps back. “She reminds me too much of my sister and I refuse to let anything happen to her. If that means keeping all of you clueless to her existence then that is what I will do.”

Azriel’s thought began flooding in all at once, making it hard to keep up with what his shadows were whispering and the things that he wanted to say. He understood now what his High Lord’s motivations were but there was no way that he could let his mate go. Not after finally finding it after the centuries that he had waited for it. As he went to explain what had happened, the door opened again and it had your scent filling the room.

“I don’t want to be the reason that there’s trouble,” you mumbled as you looked at your feet.

“You are not-”

“We’re mates,” Azriel said, interrupting Rhys.

The High Lord’s eyes widened when he swirled around to look at him. There was uncertainty in them while he stared at him before looking back at the female that he held in such high regards. For the first time in a long time, his brother was speechless and Azriel was honestly shocked. 

“I don’t deserve it,” you continued, finally looking up with tear filled eyes. “I don’t deserve someone as special and amazing as he is.”

“Why?” he asked in a raspy voice.

“You- All of you-” You paused, taking a deep breath. “You’re all so much better than me to the point that some of my dresses aren’t even liked.”

“What do you mean, Y/N?”

Your eyes switched between Rhysand and himself before stopping on the former. The tears that began flowing down your face made him unable to not go to you, placing his hands on each cheek in hopes of calming you.

“I heard Elain telling someone that she didn’t like-”

“Screw her and her opinion,” he growled before apologizing when your eyes went wide.

“There is a dress in particular that she isn’t the most fond of,” Rhys answered and you looked around him to gaze at the High Lord. “It is the only one and she simply doesn’t care for certain parts of the style. It has nothing to do with you or how amazing that your work is. It is simply a personal problem.”

“She said I was a nobody,” you sniffled, the words causing his body to shake slightly in anger. 

“That’s my fault.” Your brows furrowed at Rhys’s words. “You’re an amazing female and I didn’t want to risk putting you into danger by letting all of them know who you are.”

“But I-”

“Give us a chance,” Azriel whispered, pulling your eyes back to his. “Please.”

“Why don’t we start with the upcoming ball?” Rhys gave you a small smile when you looked at him cautiously. “It’d be a high honor for my shadowsinger to have you by his side.”

“It would,” he agreed.

Your bright smile in return for his words sent his heart fluttering and a rare, genuine smile adorned his face. He knew right then and there that there was nothing that he wouldn’t do to keep that smile on your face. 

It was the start of something new that he couldn’t wait to see unfold.

@amara-moonlight @allygrace74 @sidthedollface2 @historygeekqueen @hnyclover @kalulakunundrum @historygeekqueen @bubybubsters @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademe @caroline-books @justvibbinghere @wisdomofthebrain

[averagewriter-inthedark]

The Muse 🖌️| Ameond Tagaryen Headcanon

GOT/HOTD Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen marrying a noble who sketches/paints would look like:

To no surprise, your union to Aemond was a political alliance between your houses. Therefore you put on a brave face, accepted your duty, and courted the Prince for a short time before the wedding. In that time you learned a few things about Aemond, as he was rather reserved in the beginning, and you were the same. Civilized conversations, setting boundaries and expectations of the marriage, and promising not to cross the others line. 

Having fell in love with art at a young age, you were always sketching in your notebook when alone--as your father discouraged your hobbies and expected you act like the rest of the people in court. So, hidden behind the walls of your chambers or in an empty courtyard with a quill or charcoal in hand, you sketched the beauties around you. The Godswood, the Blackwater Bay. The Septa Baelor and the Red Keep. Committing the image of the Iron Throne to memory, you inked a page with the mighty chair. 

Beneath your bed you kept a trunk filled with oil paints, brushes, canvases, and other supplies you'd manage to accumulate by sneaking out to Flea Bottom with the one maid you trusted. (Not to mention you paid her a descent coin to keep your secret). All you sketched in your notebook soon took claim to a canvas. Capturing the beautiful scenery of King's Landing, you painted ships sailing in with a dragon flying in the background. Standing for hours from your bedchamber balcony, taking days or even weeks to finish the masterpiece. 

With each finished portrait, you yearned for the next. Spending all your coin and pawning off materialist things given on namedays to rather buy supplies. Soon the only person besides your maid who knew of your secret hobby/talent was Helaena. You'd often spend time with the Princess and her children that one day, when asked about things that made you happy, you told her about your art. She instantly became intrigued, requesting to see the sketches/paintings and after thinking about it you eventually did show her. 

Helaena was in awe of your work. "I've seen many paintings in the castle, and none have captured the King's Landing the way you do. You have an eye for beauty---I think you'd paint the family portraits better than the man they always hire." Soon your meetings evolved to you sitting by the windowsill sketching while Helaena focused on her embroidery while the children played. As a surprise nameday present for the Princess, you gifted her a portrait of her and the twins flying upon Dreamfyre. "This is the most thoughtful gift I've ever received. I shall cherish it forever and pass it on to my daughter when she's older." 

Around this time, you and Aemond's relationship progressed. You two went on walks, talked more and more with each day, and accompanied him to tourneys and banquets. Your admirations for him grew, turning into genuine love roughly four moons into your marriage. Long hours in the library, watching him train, and waiting for the other to arrive at the table before diving into your meal. Quality time became the thing you both valued in your relationship. Growing to compliments and light kisses to the cheek. 

Aemond had no idea of your talent. Yet he did often wonder where you'd disappear to for hours. He'd see the ink on your hands and assume you were writing letters back home. Then he noticed charcoal stains and oils on your clothes. Since your chambers were still separate, he had no knowledge of your supplies hidden under your bed or how there was an easel on the balcony where you often painted. 

It wasn't until he caught sight of the painting in the nursery that Aemond discovered your knack for the arts. Helaena had been embroidering while the children played, and you were having tea with the Queen, when Aemond asked his sister where she got the painting commissioned. Not realizing you hadn't told her brother, Helaena responded with, "Your spouse surprised me with it on my nameday. They painted it themself---Isn't it lovely?" To say he was stunned was an understatement. Aemond's jaw had dropped, scanning over the canvas with intensity, muttering so low Helaena barely heard him, "It is...exceptional."

On a mission to find you, Aemond hurried the halls with haste, now aware why you always had stains on your clothes and ink on your hands. Why you spent hours in the gardens and looked tired at breakfast. When he did eventually find you, Aemond simply said, "Why did you never tell me you liked to draw and paint?" Of course you were caught off guard, becoming nervous and shrunk under his gaze, "I did not think it was important. I was always told arts and music was not for someone of noble rank like us. I feared you'd be disappointed with me." 

Aemond was a little hurt you kept your love for art hidden but understood. And from then on he made it his goal to learn everything he could about the subject. Trading gifts of jewelry for oils, charcoals, and inks. Making sure you had enough parchment and canvases. Aemond never pressured you to show him your work, knowing how personal it is for an artist, and instead asked about your progress. Beaming at the way you instantly light up and spoke with pride. 

He had a feeling you sketched him in your notebook. Catching you glancing up at him multiple times when he reads in the library, your hand scattering across the page with ease. Aemond would purposefully maintain his position even when he's finished the book, as to not move and make you mess up. Smiling at the charcoal staining your fingers and silently hoping one day you'd allow him to see what inked your parchment. 

Completely unaware he became your source of inspiration. Your muse. You not only sketched Aemond reading, but him training in the yard. Him speaking to his mother, his brother. Aemond with the twins. Aemond watching Vhagar patrol the skies and feeding his horse. You were mesmerized with everything about him. The Prince who conquered obstacles that made you feel like you were the only person on the planet. Aemond was your heart and soul. He was your muse. 

And so on your 1-year anniversary, you surprised your husband with a gift he never would've expected. A painting of him and Vhagar. The one-eyed prince, known for his stoic nature, was nearly reduced to tears by the emotion consuming his entire being. His finger trailing over the scales of his dragon, the details of his riding gear and scar. How you managed to make it look like they were flying in the sky. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, "One day, if you allow me, I would love to have you sit for me for a portrait." 

And when that time came, Aemond sitting in his pristine clothes, bearing his sapphire eye to you as a proclamation of his love and trust for you, you brought out your finest oils and brushes. Painting the man you loved the way you saw him, a beauty in the eyes of the beholder. A muse to an artist. 

[breedbun]

🔶🔸🔶🔸🔶🔸🔶🔸🔶🔸🔶🔸🔶🔸🔶🔸🔶

zhongli/rex lapis x bottom m!reader

details: amab reader, humiliation, feminisation, size diff, public, anal, blowjob, self-indulgent, reader is an incubus, dubcon, rough, bondage, punishment, praise×degradation

minors dni 18+

do not repost 🚫

fanfic below vv

you don't remember when or how you got yourself in this mess, but god, you were not complaining. albeit the fact you're whining, crying and moaning like a slut in front of so many people, it's the fact you have never felt this fulfilled in your fucking life. vigorously being fucked like a dog, humiliated and bred like a bitch in heat. caus' of the blindfold over your eyes neatly going behind your ears, you can hear the very obvious chattering of people below the wooden surface you were on and even cameras clicking, flashing, all for you. you can't see anything, but you sure can hear and feel everything. the back of your thighs slapped against morax's, the squelching sound of his cum in your tight cunt as he consistently and violently kept thrusting into you. this wasn't the first time you've been fucked publicly as a punishment, you were an incubus afterall. it all started with you flirting with this oh so mighty god, wanting to earn his trust and protection.. except, you didn't realise you were just trapping yourself in his grasp— “slut, still smiling are you?" pfft, i mean, how could you not? that thick cock was addicting, just thinking about it would turn him on. but being publicly bred, and being forced an orgasm after orgasm? that would linger in your mind forever.

smack!

a loud, embarrassing moan escapes your throat with the spank, choking on sobs as you gasped for air with the soreness in your throat from his throatfucking previously making you cough. you were definitely drooling now.

his rhythm was clean, smooth, and rough. he pulls all the way out, just enough for the tip to barely be in you, leaving that empty feel inside your cheeks. don't worry though, he quickly thrusts back in at full strength, forcing your abused hole to take his full length in.

..how long was this going for? you don't even know. your wrists and shoulders are starting to hurt, hands tightly trapped in a rough rag he tied around your arms. the only reason why he didn't gag you, was because he wanted to let everyone hear what a whore you were, turned into his fucktoy for sleeping around with another mortal man who doesn't even deserve a glance of your divine, heavenly body. if it weren't for the wet blindfold around your eyes, you'd bet he'd tell you to keep your pretty eyes on him. he wraps his much bigger hand around the belt buckle, using a suffocating make-shift leash gripping tight on your throat, the leather grazing the many bite marks and hickies on your poor neck..

maybe you should sleep with even uglier mortals, he'll get more angry and take even more drastic measures.. like fucking you harder and longer.

"you better learn your lesson quick, before i fuck you to death."

clueless morax, that's exactly what you want.

🔶🔸🔶🔸🔶🔸🔶🔸🔶🔸🔶🔸🔶🔸🔶🔸

hi this is my first fanfic im tired of always fucking zhongli instead of being fucked by him, so take this not proofread shit fic i made... bye

~ `` zayel, 31/3/24 ``

[feyascorner]

Ok but what if tav is the hero of baldurs gate right, the god killer, slayer of the chosen three, savior of the emerald grove etc etc and after all that is told they had this incurable illness that the parasite had only slowed down. Now, with it gone, it’s progressing again and Tav can’t help but feel so stupid, weak even, that such a mighty hero could be struck by the weaknesses of their own body

Maybe pushes everyone away when they find out, too afraid to tell them that after everything they’ve been through after surviving all of that that they were going to die anyways

AND THEN ASTARIONS REACTION!!! Because surely he would not take that news sitting down (if he found out at all)

a/n. anon how did you know this type of prompt is exactly my cup of tea <33

It's not fair.

You did everything right. You saved the grove, the Tieflings, the Druids, the gnomes, the city, and even those who did not deserve saving, you always came to their aid. You've slayed gods, mind flayers, githyanki, even a bloody elder brain. And now, finally, after so long, with the brain having been defeated, and nothing but pure bliss occupying your headspace, you think you finally have time to relax.

Instead, you're reeled over the bathroom sink, eyes blurry from how much your body seems hellbent on making you miserable.

Ah, you remember. No matter what you've done for others, no matter what you've sacrificed, you're reduced to nothing but a sick patient. One that has no hope for a cure.

The months spent with little to do with your illness has left it to come back tenfold, and now all you can do is grovel on the bathroom floor, head in your hands as you understand that this is all you were meant to amount to. In the end, you were always destined to rot away by yourself and succumb to this gods forsaken disease. You are no hero. This is what you truly are---the pitiful remains of someone who longed for more.

The weeks following the defeat of the elder brain are filled with mournful streets for those who lost their lives and the joyous laughter of those who live on for them. Celebration--though it's difficult with half the taverns having collapsed in the battle--is not out of the ordinary. Strangers and friends alike come together every night, singing praises to whichever gods they worship. Your companions are no exception.

But each and every time, you deny their offers. You've become quite skilled at making up excuses about feeling tired, about having errands to run, or having loose ends to tie up. In reality, you're a coward. Despite the trust they put in you, you cannot provide it back--not in matters like this. Not when you've all been through so much, just for your own journey to amount to nothing.

It's not like you haven't known about this disease. You knew your death was imminent. But now, after experiencing just a fraction of what life has to offer, you no longer want to let go.

It's just not fair.

For what seems to be the millionth time this week, you hear someone knock at your door. Whichever one of your companions it is, you don't bother taking a step from your bed, face still planted into your sheets. You don't have the energy to move, and the useless healing herbs scattered across the room don't exactly hide your secret. So instead of standing, you bury your face deeper into your bed.

"You can't stay in there forever."

You flinch as you realize it's a voice you've dreaded hearing. One that invokes so much love yet fear as you remember that if you see him right now, it might be your last. And you don't want that. Not at all.

"I don't know what we've done to make you push us away like this," he says through the door, and your fist tightens in front of your chest. "But this is getting ridiculous, darling. You have to come out eventually."

You remain silent.

"Gods, just--" he stops, and you can hear the hesitance in his voice. You swear it almost cracks a little. "--Have I done something wrong?"

At this, you're suddenly on your feet, rushing to push yourself against the door, but unwilling to open in. "No, Astarion, you haven't done anything wrong. Don't you dare think that way."

You can hear him shift. "Then why do you avoid me? The others, I can understand, but me?...I mean, I thought we were more than that..."

"We are, it's just..."

"Just what?"

The final thread of your resolve snaps, and you reach toward your lock. Your hand falters for a moment, but you eventually open the door slowly. And if the way his face falls tells you anything, you must look absolutely dreadful.

"Oh, my sweet, what's happened to you?" he whispers, his eyes widening even more when he sees the mess of your home behind you. The clothes all over the floor, the blinds shut despite there being no sunlight to shield from, the healing potions and herbs messily tossed around...you'd feel ashamed if you weren't so tired already.

"...Are you sick?" he steps inside, taking his time to take in the state of what you call home. When you don't answer, he whips around to you, alarmed. "You're sick. Is it a cold? Flu?"

You shake your head, sick of having to lie to the one person you don't want to deceive. "It's a long story."

"I'm undead, darling. I have all the time in the world."

"It's not a very nice story."

"If I wanted a nice story, I'd be listening to a bard someplace else," he says, and you feel your eyes bubble with tears as he steps closer. "What's happened?"

The words spill out like vomit, and you're soon telling him what's been weighing on you for so long. You find yourself sliding down to the ground, and he goes with you, letting you grasp desperately at the sleeves of his shirt while you tell him everything. You can barely breathe with how fast your talking but you're afraid you won't say everything if you get any slower. The entire time, he just stares at you, his arms circled around you, and only when you're done does his gaze finally flicker.

"...Surely, there must be a cure." He's suddenly glancing around the entire room, at pieces of herbs. "Surely, at least one of these would--"

"None of them work, Astarion."

"Then we can find the finest healers in the city--we can even go back to that damn druid, and ask him."

"I've tried."

"Well, you haven't tried hard enough, obviously, if you haven't found a bloody cure!"

You give him one hard look--one with dark bags under your eyes and a weariness that stretches on for weeks--and his temper seems to cool. His shoulders slump, but he reaches for your hand, rubbing his thumb against your skin. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I just felt so weak," you whisper. "I didn't want you to think that too."

Immediately, his eyes harden, and he takes both sides of your face in his hands. "No. I don't think you're weak, and that's not going to change. You've proven yourself more than I can count, and I know you enough to know that you can't let it end like this, love. You can't leave like this."

"Astarion..."

He shakes his head. "I won't let this take you from me. There have been too many opportunities for us to lose each other, and we've overcome them all. We'll just do it again. We'll go to the most skilled healers in Faerun. We'll go to all of them if we have to, and we'll start tomorrow."

You can feel yourself tear up again, and he kisses your tears away while you sob in his arms.

"I'll save you," he mumbles against your temple. "Even if it's the last thing I do."

[ditoob]

Something I find makes the life and death of Achilles far more tragic is the fact that all he is is the Trojan War. His parents’ wedding begins the conflict, and he dies before the end of the war. His entire life was spent in something he had no control over. Did he know Helen? Paris? Hektor? The Trojans became his enemies only when he reached the beaches of Troy.

Hell, if we go by the Achilleid, Achilles didn’t even know what the war was about until he was sailing to Troy. A young boy whose birth produced an unjust prophecy that dictated the rest of his life: Live long and die in obscurity, or die in war and live in the minds of the people forever. No greek man of his time could bear to die in obscurity, but it was especially impossible for Achilles to do so. His father Peleus, a legendary Argonaut whose adventures would be remembered for millenia, his mother Thetis, a towering goddess raised by the queen of the gods herself.

Their child had to be known.

At Aulis the greeks call for Achilles, a legend before he even steps into the battlefield, and he is forced to go to war. And he fights, he kills, he ravages the city of Troy. A boy who has never even seen a battle in his life, living in peaceful Pthia and later protected by mighty Chiron in Thessally, becomes a machine specifically created for one purpose: To destroy Troy.

This is the reason why Achilles refuses to fight after the taking of Briseis. Unlike Agamemnon, who lived before the Trojan War, who had a wife and family before the Trojan War, who will leave Troy. Or Odysseus who will tell his tales to his son and wife after 20 years away. Or Menelaus who after years regains his family and rules Sparta in peace. Achilles has no life, no future, he IS Troy, more than even Hektor, Paris, and Priam are. Thus, when his honor is threatened, everything he has ever lived for has been taken away from him. Realize that before the taking of Briseis, Agamemnon mentioned takingthe “bride prizes” from the other greek kings and despite this not going anywhere none of them attempted to argue. Would Odysseus attempt to kill Agamemnon if his bride prize were taken? Would Diomedes or Greater Ajax?

And yet, after Achilles lives his entire life for war. After he struggles and suffers so much at the face of adversity. At the loss of his everything, Patroklos. At the slight to his honor. He spends the rest of eternity regretting everything he had ever done. Perhaps it is a mercy to Achilles that shades forget their life on earth

[youryanderedaddy]

tw: female reader, non - con, humiliation, obsessive thoughts, victim - blaming, hinted kidnapping

I'm thinking about the type of man who can't decide if he loves you or hates you - forever lost between these two painful, opposing feelings.

It's not like he doesn't feel the pull - his heart clenching and aching at the mere sight of you, bloodshot eyes watering and cold lips trembling with need. He's not stupid, he knows he feels something towards you. You're sweet and kind and patient - you're the only person who turns to him when he tries to speak up. You smile and chuckle to ease the tension when his mind turns off abruptly, you gently brush your fingers against his as you hand him the documents and wish him a sweet little "Good luck!". You bring homemade cookies and fizzy lemonade to the office parties none of your colleagues care about.

You're a fucking bundle of sunshine and roses - so of course he feels something for you, and that something is hatred.

How dare you act so high and mighty, like you're so much better than everyone else - so much better than him? Do you think you're too good for this dead corporate job that seems to suck the life out of people? Do you think you're some type of Godsend to all the miserable overworked souls? He's sure you do, and it makes it hard to look at you.

It's hard to look at your smile that lights up any room you enter. It's hard to avert his eyes when you try to ask him about his day. It's hard to take in your form in those painfully long bright dresses - hanging just above the knee, teasing the mind with so many possibilities of what's underneath. It's hard to ignore the tightening inside his pants, the heat between his thighs - the way his throat dries up and his heartbeat speeds up when his gaze travels to your wet, glistening lips despite his best efforts. It's hard to be in the same space as you - so it must be hate, right?

Yes, he must hate you. He hates you so much he often fantasizes about pushing you to your knees right there in the office - in front of everyone, and just forcing his length down your eager little throat. He imagines you'd struggle weakly, but would eventually give in - thick wet tears running down your puffy cheeks, your mascara ruined and your red lickstick all messed up as he smears his pre - cum all over your open mouth. You'd sob, your fists shaking against his thighs before your new role as nothing more than his cumdump sinks in and you're made to endure any and all abuse he wants you to.

Other times the setting of his fantasies is a lot more personal - a lot more intimate. Sometimes you're laying in his own bed, sprayed open like a starfish - tied up with your eyes covered, completely unaware of your surroundings. The only similarity that remains consistent is his roughness - even in his hate-fueled dreams he's impatient to touch you, to have you, to ruin you. His strong hands itch to tear apart the only barrier between his fingers and your body, his teeth ache to rip into your soft, welcoming flesh. He's shaking all over, anticipating the sweet little moment when it will become too much for you - the pain, the fear, the unwanted pleasure - and you'd cry out in that adorable tiny voice you used to greet him with.

He hopes you'd feel betrayed. He hopes you'd be repelled, shocked, even disgusted when he pumps you full of sticky warm cum and finally takes off the mask covering your eyes. You'd meet his gaze just as he loses himself in the ecstasy of your vulnerable boy - sparkling eyelashes wet and matted to each other as the gasp dies at your parted lips. Then he'd kiss you - but not gently, not like a lover. He'd violate you with his lips and teeth and tongue, he'd explore every inch of your insides and make you feel defiled. Sullied. Unable to be loved by anyone else again.

Yes, he thinks, he would love to teach you a lesson. It's only fair, right? You drive him mad every single day - so maybe it's time for him to return the favour. And if your tea tastes just a bit off today - and if he's a bit too willing to drive you home, well, maybe you shouldn't have been so nice. You shouldn't have smiled so sweetly at him. You shouldn't have held his hand so tightly.

You only have yourself to blame, really.