#feared it and begged God for someone gentle

[mausarchive]

thankful every day that my boyfriend doesn't want to hurt me or be violent towards me to gratify himself

[yerrmar]

𝐀 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐂𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬

!Fem! reader child of Persephone x Luke Castellan

Summary: you’re just like your mother a loyal sweetheart who’s feared by her enemies; he’s just like Hades completely mesmerised.

warnings: The reader can get quite dark when she’s angry, and Luke is his lovely self, swearing, mentions of: war, violence, killing, and blood.

notes: this is my first time writing on here and writing like this so sorry if it’s shitty im not that good at writing, I just loved this idea and wanted to write it so bad because like i don’t know how to ask someone else to write it if you get what i mean😫

You have a heart made of roses and thorns, beautiful to look at, but if you get too close be careful not to get pricked.

That’s what people at camp liked to do anyway, just look at you. They didn’t want to hear you speak. You are just a pretty face that would never get old. Endlessly, boys and girls plucked petals from your beautiful rose garden, gently placing them into their hands before tearing them apart; right in front of your face. All anyone thought of you for was your beauty, not your fighting skills, or your love for flowers, and not how wicked your mind could be.

It wasn’t something you made people aware of. Why would you? Why would you ever want people to know about your deep loathing for this stupid camp and the Gods that ruled over the earth? They’re pathetic-you hate them, the way they feed off of their children’s desperate cries to be loved, and how they would start wars just because they can.

You hate their children too, for wanting to be like them. For desiring history to continuously be repeated. Watching them never take the fucking hint that their parent has no interest in them. That’s pathetic. Every single thing in this world is pathetic; at least it makes you laugh.

Your mother, on the other hand, isn't like them. She could never be like them. She gives a fuck about you, you didn’t even need to beg her for a reply. There was no wonder Chiron tells you that you are the exact double of her, you are a seed that dispersed from her golden rose.

You always dreamed of a love like Persephone’s and Hades-their love runs deeper than the Mariana Trench. Their loyalty put all the gods to shame. I mean, yes it was bad that he kidnapped her you wouldn’t dismiss that, it was just how they found so much love for each other. But a hard truth that you needed to realise was that the only thing you could ever be loved for is your pretty face.

But you didn’t mind, it's easier to manipulate people when they can’t tear their stare away from your enchanting face. Though it makes you feel miserable most of the time; you just wish that someone would see you for everything you are.

That someone being Luke Castellan- unknowingly to you, he adores everything about you. He often observes how gentle you are when you’re tending to wounds, or taking care of your plants, he can’t help but smile at the motions. Your heart is a mystery to him, how can a person have that much love in their body and not even a pinch of darkness?

Everyone at Camp loves Luke, he's admired by all. He's also talented at hiding his true intentions and feelings.

You knew who the boy was. If you didn't you had probably only just joined camp half-blood. Luke Castellan, the best swordsman and a total heart-throb, you found the boy to be very attractive. You didn’t mean to stare at him during training, but you couldn't help it, everything about him made your stomach do flips. The only downside is that you two had never held an actual conversation before, always just quick hellos as you passed each other, even from that you were longing for him to just give you something more. Something better.

That was till one night, his mind had been racing with dark thoughts that he couldn’t shake. Then he saw you sitting on the dock, your feet dangling over the edge. Your feet are submerged in the freezing, pitch-black water. He wondered what you were doing up so late. As he got closer; the image of you became clearer. His eyes wandered over you. Usually, you had a flower sitting in your hair, but tonight you didn’t. Dried blood covered your knuckles; he could’ve sworn he saw a smirk on your face before he made himself known.

“Are you cold?”

You don't need to look at the person to know who it is. You've dreamed of his voice too often for it not to become familiar.

“No.” You replied, your voice as cold as the chilly air. Winter was arriving, and that's when you unconsciously became more closed off.

Luke frowned watching as your body trembled due to the freezing temperature, “Are you sure? You can borrow my jacket.”

His eyes still never left your swollen knuckles, curiosity almost getting the better of him. You groan, wanting to be left alone without being interrupted at least for just a minute, but everything around you seemed to be getting louder, and now here Luke was trying to start small talk.

If it was any other night you would've been happy to engage in conversation with him; tonight was not that night.

“I'm fine.” You snapped. Luke, strangely not taken aback by this action, placed his jacket around your shoulders anyway. And you didn't stop him.

Luke took a seat beside you, he wanted to ask about your bruised knuckles, and now he could see more clearly, he wanted to ask who caused that cut under your eye.

You knew exactly what he was thinking, it’s not like he was being discreet- you saw his eyes tracing over your hand, and how his jaw clenched from seeing your injury.

First, you tried to think of an excuse; you fell. But you couldn't help but want to tell him the truth, it was strange. “Just ask.”

Luke snapped his eyes to look at yours as you finally faced him. He tried to loom confused as if he didn't understand what you're talking about. “Ask what?”

“You know what, don't play dumb with me Castellan.” You scoffed. He loved how you read him like he was a book, if it was anyone else he would've attempted to kill them for reading him so well (it would be harder to hide), but you're different.

“Fine, you got me, princess. What happened to you're hand?” He chuckled.

You'll always stand up for yourself, no matter what. Nobody could ever make you doubt your worth.

So, when a boy from Apollo tried to make you look stupid in front of his friends, you snapped. Whilst you were practising archery, he came up behind you and placed his hand on your waist making you miss the target. He commented on how naive you are, and how you should accept his offer with private “lessons”.

Your fist collided with his nose, making a satisfying crack. You smirked at how he stumbled backwards, his face contorted into an unattractive expression. You would've laughed if it weren't for the judgemental looks you would have received.

People around you gasped, and some even cheered. The boy looked up at you in shock, his nose creating a pool of blood in his hands. “You bitch!” He hissed before lunging at you.

You didn’t have time to react when he slapped you, the sound echoed across the field. His ring got caught under your eye, causing a gash to appear. You held your burning face and snickered.

Finally, something interesting was happening in this shitty camp. You probably looked insane, but you didn’t care; you felt alive.

Your fist met with his face again, rekindling the connection that was once there. This time his whole body dropped to the ground, and you didn't stop there. You wondered how people felt about your pretty face when it was covered in blood.

People came to his rescue after seeing that you had no sign of stopping, even after he passed out. You ignored the disappointment on Chiron's face as he assessed the situation, with a smug expression and your head held high, you walked away.

Luke cursed himself for not being there, how he would kill to see you get angry like that, to watch you make people pay for being ignorant. Just imagining it made him grin. “How did it feel?” Luke spoke softly to you like if he spoke even just a bit louder, you'd shatter like glass.

You’re surprised by this question. His eyes stare deep into your soul-searching for his answer. He looked at you so deeply and intently that it made your cheeks burn. You didn't answer him, you just turned away and focused your attention on the ripples your legs made in the lake. He already knew how you felt, the way you explained the story to him, how you even laughed at one point. He knew that both of you shared the same anger; the same thirst for blood that came from the gods.

He reached out for your face. Gently, he placed his hand on your jaw turning you to face, his finger softly brushing your cheek. “You can trust me.”

His voice made you shudder, you'd never seen him treat someone so delicately. “Good.” She muttered.

“What?” He asked, even though he heard her perfectly fine, he wanted you to be proud. You’re ashamed that it made you feel so good to hurt someone who deserved it, you loved wiping the smirk off the bo's face. It made you feel… powerful.

But you'd never admit that to anyone. Luke understood that, but he wanted you to know you could talk to him about things like that; about anything. “I love duelling, not because it helps me with training, or because I win every time.” Luke smirked watching how you rolled your eyes at his cocky tone, “I love it because it feels so good to get all that anger off your chest. I love how it sounds when my fist meets someone's face. I love how it makes me feel powerful.”

After every sentence, his face got closer to yours, your noses just inches apart. Your breath hitched as he raised his hand to brush your hair behind your ear. He thought you were breathtaking like this, but you're always breathtaking to him.

You could be covered in blood and he'd still want to hold your face in his hands. He'd still kiss you so softly, but he knew he'd be too hungry for your lips to be gentle.

To Luke, his whole world was grey. Recently he hated everything and wanted to destroy it all. But you, you're the only colourful thing in his world. He'd do anything and everything to keep you safe, if anyone touched you he'd kill them. He so badly wanted to show you how perfect you are-he so badly wanted to close the small space that was between the both of you.

“So, how did it feel?” Luke asked again, seeing you give into trusting him.

Finally, you smirked. “It made me feel good. So. Fucking. Good.”

[madwomansapologist]

Hi, are you still looking for Baldur's Gate 3 requests? Could you please write something about the main BG3 Companions (+ our boi Halsin) with a Tav/reader who's really short and adorable and just an absolute sweetheart but is horrifyingly powerful in their lore? Like NPCs who know about them back away in fear kinda thing. Maybe Tav can even transform into some sort of battle form where they're like 9 feet tall (as opposed to their usual height of like 4' 10") and can absolutely kick ass on the battlefield?

Thanks so much, I hope you have a wonderful day! Take care!

bg3 companions with a adorably powerful tav

Navigation | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: Who could imagine such a sweet thing as you had the reputation of a hero?

warnings: companions (lae'zel, shadowheart, astarion, gale dekarios, wyll ravengard, karlach, halsin, jaheira) x tav. fluff.

note: thank you for your request! oh gods how i missed writing headcanons. i hope you like this, have a wonderful day!

Lae'zel

Lae'zel knew your shared condition had a cure, and was willing to put herself in danger by taking the entire party with her to the nearest crèche. That being said, how couldn't she judge you?

You were too easy on everyone. Making promises you clearly shouldn't, taking them seriously despite her best efforts to put some sense in your head. The party was supposed to only stop walking when surrounded by githyankis, but no burdened tiefling or hurt animal escaped your careful gaze.

That you knew how to fight surprised her, but to see fear and admiration in the eyes of civillians... that made Lae'zel pay more attention to you. You had a reputation. Not as a writer, bard or patron. You're know for striking down your enemies.

Fighting at the goblin's camp, there were so many oponents even Lae'zel didn't knew if it would be her last fight. You saw it too, so you made sure to use everything you had to win. Even if you would rather not turn into an eldritch creature.

She got enchanted by your battle form. Steel and iron where nothing against the pure strenght of your skin. Whatever crossed your path that day suffered at your hands.

That was the first time Lae'zel got happy for being wrong about someone.

"Perhaps I've judged you too hard. You are fierce, foracious, as sharp as my sword and as brave as a red dragon. Keep on surprising me and a istik you'll be no more."

Shadowheart

Shadowheart couldn't care less about the tieflings and their problems, but it was endearing to watch you wandering throught the Coast in an attempt to ensure their safety. It was a sight she couldn't expect to observe in this journey, not when considering the worm twitching behind her eye and the artifact messing with their dreams.

Still, you could shut down her biggest fears with ease. While she tried to remain quiet, you were full of kind words to share with whoever was near. You care for all beings, great and small, and Shadowheart can respect that. A person without a truth to follow is empty, but one with a mission turns into so much more than just a walking corpse.

She focused on protecting you during fights. Always giving you some sort of magic shield, casting sanctuary, begging you to drink potions and elixirs that would keep you safe.

Goblins attacked, and for a second everyone was too surprised to react properly. Except by you. You were quick to defend your party, to fight for them, and won a fight no one was preparad to.

Shadowheart decided not to underestimate you again. Kind words, gentle actions, caring gaze: she was so focused on her own view about you that forgot to pay attention to the way everyone else saw you.

You're powerful. The kinda of powerful that their party had to be grateful that you were fighting besides them.

When you revealed your beast form to her, Shadowheart already knew you were a sight to behold.

"You are full of surprises, aren't you? Good. I like how you keep me on my toes, love."

Astarion

In theory, he should've been delighted with your personality. You were the perfect prey. A leader so sweet, he could change your mind at his will and you wouldn't even noticed. Others respect you. Astarion would be safe and sound.

But Astarion isn't capable of forgetting how easily you fought back when he tried to fool you. How he didn't even saw you moving, and was alone on the floor before he could understand what had hit him.

Instead of a person, you were a walking question mark. How can you be so sickenly adorable, and still so ready to strike down your enemies? Were did the sweet half of you finished and the other one started?

People know you. He saw respect in druid's eyes, fear when goblins heard your name. Halsin knew about you. And so did Minthara.

Few are able to live up to their reputation, but you're one of those. So strong, so brave, but your kindness wasn't ignored by him. It was as if in your head the whole world deserved your kindness, until it did no more. Only then you react.

Astarion don't know what to think about it.

When you attacked as a beast, tearing spiders apart as if they were a piece of meat in your plate, Astarion laughed until his belly ache.

How could be so right and so wrong about someone?

"Don't mind me, darling. I'm just rejoicing at the sight of your bloody hands. Come here. Let me taste your heroic mess."

Gale Dekarios

Gale learned two things about you when you pulled him out of stone: you were kind, and so damn strong.

You were adorable. A perfect equation between what people must do in order to survive and what they must do in order to live well. He can't see you not being surrounded by friends and admirers, all enchanted by your sweet words and rightful attacks.

He feared the party's reaction to the Orb, but a part of him knew you would let him stay. He never imagined you would give him magic artifacts without a second question, or that you would hug him after he told you his whole story.

You didn't let him go. Neither did Gale.

To say he was willing to agree with whatever you did was to say his heart beats. It was only natural. Maybe you both differ on the path you want to take, but the destination is usually the same.

When he saw you feral, body changing to give space to something else, Gale wondered if he was one of those enchanted people surrounding you. If he wasn't fighting for his life, Gale would gadly gaze upon you for the rest of the day.

"Disgusted? I was unable to look away from you! You are the one I love, no claws or tentacles will ever change that. Must I add, my love, your light remains strong in whatever form you decide to use."

Wyll Ravengard

To say the least, he's a fan. Oh, how lovely are the tales of your adventures through Faêrun. He remember arguing with bards about the accuracy of their versions and the reason behind their choice of words. You were what a hero must aim to.

How long were the nights he spend wandering after he was casted out of Baldur's Gate. Lonely nights, but never silent. Wyll's mind fought against itself. He lost everything to help and protect others. Sometimes he worried if he had lost himself too.

Your tales weren't his salvation. None of them shut down those voices that insisted on telling him about the mistakes he made, neither did them shut Mizora. But they inspired him. If you did all those things, remained human even as a beast, he could survive a talkative cambion. Wyll Ravengard can defeat her by staying loyal to himself.

Wyll didn't had to hear your name to know you were fighting next to him, defending the grove against goblins and worgs. He saw enough drawings of you to recognize you from miles afar. When you asked him to be a member of your party, Wyll felt as if a million fireworks exploded inside his chest at the same time.

He did felt anger and pain because of the tadpole, but never fear. Fighting beside you, Wyll knew he didn't had to fear for his future. And after seeing how willing you were to argue with multiple cambions, he started to have hope.

"I used to read about legends, myths of bravery and rightousness. Some see it as just tales for the naive. Thank you, my heart. For proving them wrong time after time."

Karlach

She's the only one with an excuse for not knowing who you are. When strangers call you by your entire name, when companions use your epithet: Karlach just never thought about it. She ignored it, paying no mind to others.

But Karlach did knew you were a absolute sweetheart. What you didn't had of height you compensate with a gigantic personality. For her, the way you behaved was simply alluring.

While many prefer to think the world is a bad place and no one living there can chose to be or do better, you are just another reason for her to know that it's bullshit. Because Karlach is good, despise it all. And Wyll. And you.

And Minsc!!!

You had a fire on you whenever you had to fight. She didn't need to know your story to see how great you can be. Some people just have that. She don't know if that fire is born or forged, but some people just have it.

To see you as a beast made her the most happy woman in Faêrun. She got speechless, all she could do was laugh and run around to have a better view of you ending the Steel Watch.

"You got 'em, soldier! Go on, bite his arm off! You see that monster over there? The one with glowing eyes. That's the love of my fucking life."

Halsin

He saw you before. Druids and harpist fought against sharrans, and you were one of the heroes who joined their cause. At that time Halsin didn't talked to you, but he knew you fought until the very end and stayed to help with the infirm.

When you rescued him, Halsin knew you remembered him too. There was some understanding between you both, a companionship that only those who foght together can share.

He knew you were a hero, one of those who fight wars that don't affect them because someone needs too, but your personality was a good surprise. Halsin haven't imagined you so easy going. Always offering smiles, light jokes, being clumsy without a care when danger was far away.

After the battle against sharrans, he thought those who refered to you as a monster were trying to make others understand how eficient you were. It surprised him to see they were just being honest.

Nothing would stop Halsin from turning into a bear and joining you.

"In this damned city, you are a beacon of hope. The Oak Father graced us with your light. From your fiece strikes to your honey soaked words... I am lucky to live at the same time as you, my love."

Jaheira

As a fellow adventurer, it surprised Jaheira that you weren't already tired. You both lived for so long, did so much, it would be only natural for you to give a pause on your endless smiles and envied patience. She was wrong, but that wasn't a bad thing.

Jaheira knew how this life can steal things from you. Peace feels like a threat, to stop make you feel like a prey, to laugh makes you wonder if it will be the last time. Is impossible to be a hero without losing. She's glad you didn't lose yourself in your path.

There was an unspoken pact between you both. The stories, the songs, the faux memories. So many think to know everything about you two. Sometimes Jaheira will read you a book you're in when she knows it's a shameless lie, and you sing her songs about adventures she did not lived.

Your laugh could make her feel younger. Alive. You both were so differents, but knew each other in a way few could.

Whenever you chose to strike as a monster, she would join you as a myrmidon and had her fun. You both deserve it.

"I did well not underestimating you, cub. It is impossible not to laugh at those who can't see how your bright smile hides sharp fangs. As pretty as a diamond, and as fierce too."

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

BALDUR’S GATE 3 TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[milequaritchsslut]

could u do angst w/ miguel where he gets so anxious every time the reader gets sent out on a mission thinking that he’s gonna lose her the same way he lost his daughter?💕

His beautiful girlfriend

he’d be clawing at your arms as your about to walk out the door. Throwing you into him, your face coming contact with his bare and broad chest. As his hands find their way into your curls and he just stands there for a moment, holding you close to him and fighting back the tears. You were so important to him, his most prized treasure. You were his other half, the person he looked forward to seeing after work. Just wanting to lay in your arms and nip at the soft skin under your ears. He could not lose you, not someone so close again. You were his everything, his girl. When it came to you words couldn’t express what he felt, the word love seemed like an understatement. Because it was so so much more, so much deeper than a word people threw around all the time. What you two had was sacred, something he couldn’t and wasn’t trying to find again.

‘Please don’t go mi amor’ he pleaded, a tear finally falling from his eyes.

you sigh at his reaction, pulling away just enough so you could look him eye to eye. ‘I will be fine my love’ you reassured, hands coming to cup his crying face. A smiling face is what he was met with, his lovely girlfriends wonderful smile. God you knew how to make him melt, you knew exactly how to get your way. ‘But what if you get hurt-‘ he stopped himself as the waterworks finally flooded in at the thought of losing you. Tears streaming down his face as he cried for you. God did he feel pathetic right now, but he Couldn’t stop himself. It worried him so much, you were his top priority and he couldn’t imagine a life without you. He lived for you, you were his only concern other than his job. He needed you so badly, so so badly. You would never be able to understand what he felt, the pain he had from losing his own daughter. But then losing you? He would rather die himself than have to be without you. These missions were so deadly, there were dangers lurking at every single corner. Just waiting to pounce on his princess. He leaned into your touch his hand coming to cup your hand as tears fell onto your fingertips, soaking them as he looked into your beautiful eyes. Your heart sank at the sight of him, the fact he was worried sick for you just broke you. Your fingers brushed his tears away, a small kiss planted on his tear stained cheek. ‘Hey, I’ve come back every time haven’t I baby?’ You cooed softly, putting on a warm smile for him. The last thing you wanted was for your precious boy to be crying for you, because his own fear got in the way of seeing the bigger picture.

He thought about it, wheels turning inside of him. He knew you were a strong woman, you did this all the time. But it just felt different today, it seemed more risky. But deep down he knows that you were right, that he was just being dramatic again. Letting the past control his emotions and actions once again. So he sighed, wiping the tears that stained his usual calm and unfazed expression. His hands coming down to your shoulders as he finally sent you a small and gentle smile. After a minute or two he finally recollected himself before he spoke ‘Just please be careful—please’ the last word he emphasized, he wasn’t a man who begged. Far from it, but you made him like this. Made him worry and become all frazzled and sick to his stomach. But he loved you nonetheless, his beautiful girlfriend.

[sourprada]

Mommy wanda trying the strap for the first time? Big yes

She had been dreaming about it for weeks, fucking you with her strap till you become a crying mess. Impossible to get it out of her head. For days now, wanda was slowly trying to convince you, preparing your pussy to take her strap and stretching you out for her every time she fucked you.

“Can you take another finger, bunny?”

“Mommy has to stretch your pretty pussy out for her”

“This cunt is gonna swallow my cock beautifully”

When the time came, she was beyond turned on seeing your pleading eyes wide in fear as you eyed the size of the shaft she choose. It was huge and too girthy for someone who never been fucked by one. Wanda took pride in this, her bunny so small under her, practically begging to be stuffed full by her, it was a sight for sore eyes.

“What’s the matter, bunny? Scared of choking on mommy’s cock?”

She would be gentle at first but hearing your needy whines every time the tip of her strap brushed against your cunt, she lost it. Burying it whole inside of you, making your legs clamp around her and a loud cry creep from your throat, Wanda marveled from the intense stretch she was inducing. Her pretty bunny in tears, gripping her arm like her life depended on it.

“I’m sorry, bunny. Mommy is just really excited for this”

“You’re gonna feel so good. I promise”

After giving you a few times to get used to her girth, she’d slowly stroke your walls, your eyes automatically rolling to the back of your skull and the witch chuckled at this. “Already, giving in?” “I guess sluts really do only think when they have a cock balls deep inside them, huh?” She growls sliding in and out till she’s buried to the hilt

The bed rocked while wanda pounded into your cunt mercilessly, walls constricting her like a vice.The degrading words kept being whispered in your ear by her making you reach your peak faster

“God, I’m gonna pump you full till the sun rises”

“Keep your legs open for me, bunny. I’m not done using your pussy”

After many orgasms, she’d make you clean her strap with your mouth. Slender fingers controlling you by your hair while you choked and cried on her, finishing with wanda grabbing you by the neck and looking at your teary eyes lovingly.

“One hole to go now, bunny”

[toxicanonymity]

can we have another sex pollen fic 🫣🫣🫣

picks up after Lazaretto where you were precautionarily quarantined together and subjected to a treatment that had a sex pollen effect on Joel 🥵. Check content settings if you can't see that one.

Lazaretto: Horny reader

1k / Joel x horny!f!reader

Warnings: Horny reader pressures Joel for sex as he struggles with guilt / fear. Jacking off. unsafe P in V sex. Prev story (referenced) was noncon. Unedited.

☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️

After Joel is seized by the fog and ferally pounds you, y’all still have another 24 hours in the tent together nearly nude before they’ll let you go. It's a long time to spend with someone in these circumstances. Long enough for you to recover and need more.

He’s traumatized by the experience, overwhelmed by guilt. You reassure him it felt good, as if he didn’t already know you came on his cock, but that doesn’t make him feel any better. He's torturing himself. He’s still feeling the fog, too, even though it’s faded.

He has a hard dick, but by now he’s regained enough control to restrain himself. He’s too ashamed to even relieve himself in front of you. Too ashamed or too afraid of what he might do. You spend most of the day pretending to nap so he can periodically jack off unembarrassed. He grunts and sighs as quietly as he can. You don't want him to know you notice, but it's the hottest thing you've ever heard, and the fact that he’s trying to be quiet only makes it hotter. The squish of his skin and his stifled sounds of pleasure have you starving for his cock.

You wish he’d just fuck you again. You’ve offered. You’ve asked. You’ve borderline begged. You want it that bad. You’re stuck in a tent, horny as hell, with Joel and his hard cock. What’s more, you’re aware of what he can do with it, and every few hours you have to hear him fucking his fist instead of your needy cunt. Your ass is sore, but your pussy wants more. The hornier you get, the more you lose patience. Finally, you’ve had enough and pretend to “wake up.” When you sit up on the cot and face him, he’s cowering on the floor pressing the heel of his palm into his aching member, with his eyes swollen from tears.

“I need something,” you say. “Anything.” You slip your hand under your gown and start touching yourself.

“Can’t give it to ya, sweetheart. It ain’t right,” he says for at least the third time today.

“No, Joel. God, I’m sick of hearing that.” You don’t stop touching yourself. "What ain’t right is you not giving me a choice right now. Gimme the choice you couldn’t give me earlier.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that.

“Get over here and lie down on the cot,” you tell him, your voice more gentle than the words. “Let me take what I need," you add.

He rubs his temples with the thumb and ring finger of one expansive hand. He shakes his head, then looks at the ceiling of the tent. A few seconds later, he hesitantly stands up with a groan like his whole body hurts. You avert your gaze from the considerable tent in his gown as he makes his way to the cot trying to hide it.

Joel lays down on the cot and says, "You don't have to do this. You really shouldn't." You feel a little bad for him, but you do have to do this. Your body needs it. In your mind, it will benefit you both. "I don't wanna hurt you, sweetheart. Get me started, I dunno if I can stop."

"Relax, Joel." You get on top of him and pull up his gown, your breath hitching at the sight of his commanding cock. You take your own gown off entirely, hoping the sight of your tits helps him get on board with this. You watch his face darken as you position yourself on top of him and both his hands come gently to your breasts.

"Fuck," he breathes as he palms your nipples with his tired eyes nearly closed. You notch the angry tip of his cock at your weeping cunt and he shudders "Ohh, God," pinching his eyes shut. His hands slide down to your hips then he opens his eyes again. As you begin to sink onto him, he pulls you down hard and lifts his hips, sheathing his stiff member in your warmth. He grunts and you sigh as you're impaled on his rock-hard length.

"Fuck, you feel good," he winces.

You lean forward and tilt yourself to press your most sensitive place against his pubic bone, softly cushioned by hair. You begin to move your hips, grinding against him and giving him space to rail in and out of you. His thick cock is hurried along by your ample slick each time he impales you. His eyes water, swollen and sensitive from his earlier tears, and his rough hands grip your ass harder. He kneads your cheeks and you wince in pain each time they spread.

Joel grunts and sighs as he buries his length in you. Your knees squeeze his broad torso as your clit begins to twitch. His face is overtaken by the inner animal again and he begins to rail you mercilessly, pulling you down harder each time he thrusts up into you. You lift up his gown and slide it up his torso, then rest your hands on his pecs for leverage. The sight of his scars and light chest hair make you weak and his firm pecs under your palms make you twitch more. You push your ass down and back as he fucks up into you.

You lower your torso against his, slipping your hands under his arms and resting them on the cot. With the added contact, you’re close to the brink. He plunges his thick cock into you for another minute, your walls gripping him each time he fills you up. You teeter on the edge of your climax, then he grunts loudly and pleasure seizes you, from your clit spreading inward, strangling his cock as you sigh. His nipples harden against your breasts and he shudders then explodes inside you with a long, low sigh.

You stay on his cock and he reaches down to the ground to pick up the blanket. He covers your bodies and you fall asleep with him inside you. Finally you both get some much-needed rest.

-

All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose  @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @blackvelveteen1339    @manazo @wolvesandvampires  @taeslarityy @str84pedro @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy  

[flynnriderishot]

Can you do a fic where the reader and her best friend gets into a car accident and the best friend dies and matt conforts her at the hospital or smt🫡 I love your ficcs!

you got me - m.s

tw: mentions of car accident, death, survivors guilt. let me know if i missed any.

a/n: i wasn’t gonna post this cause i planned on deleting this account but i figured why not 🤷🏾‍♀️

you laid in the hospital bed, unmoving as you stared at the ceiling above you.

the lights were headache inducing but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

your body ached but you couldn’t help but think your heart hurt more.

she was gone.

dead.

all because some idiot couldn’t stop himself from driving while intoxicated.

all because some idiot didn’t think of the lives he’d be risking if he got on the road with even a hint of alcohol in his system.

and the worst thing? he was alive.

alive and well. or, as well as someone with a broken arm and leg could be.

you could hear him screaming just a few rooms over. pleading that they didn’t arrest him, swearing on his life that he didn’t mean any harm.

whether he meant it or not, harm was made.

and your best friend was dead.

you guessed the only good thing is that you felt like you were dying too.

it sucked to think that way, you knew that.

but you didn’t know how you’d get through life without her. she was everything to you. you almost never left each other’s sides if you could help it.

and now you couldn’t.

it wasn’t like you didn’t have people there for you to help you get through this, you did.

in fact, one of them was sat in a chair next to you, eyes closed, hand gripping yours as soft snore’s escaped his lips.

you knew he wouldn’t be asleep right now if he knew you were awake.

nick and chris were in the cafeteria in search for something to fill your stomach. they knew you wouldn’t eat anything but they also knew you needed a bit of silence to let your thoughts consume you for a minute.

now you wished they hadn’t.

you sniffled as you remember your shrill screams as you begged the ambulance to help her. begged them to care for her before they even attempted to pull you out of the vehicle.

unfortunately, despite how quiet it was, your sniffles had the person next to you moving around.

it was only a few seconds before he opened his eyes, hand squeezing yours to reassure himself that you were still there before he finally looked up at your tear stained face.

“oh, baby.”

matt quickly sat up, careful not to move too much in fear that he would hurt you in some way.

you shut your eyes in hopes that the tears would stop but to no avail.

“i miss her so much, matt.”

“i know. i know you do, baby. i’m so sorry.” he had moved so he was sat on the edge of the bed, hand tightly gripping yours as it seemed to be the only part of your body that wasn’t bruised up.

“i’m so sorry.”

you lifted your free hand to wipe your tears, unintentionally being a little rough with your movements.

matt’s heart clench as he watched the love of his life break down.

selfishly, he was glad it wasn’t you that died in the accident. he didn’t know if he could live with himself knowing you didn’t survive.

his warm hand came up to wipe your tears for you, being a lot more gentle than you were.

“i’m here for you, okay? and i know that isn’t the same as y/bsf/n being there, and i don’t want to try and replace her cause god knows i can’t…”

he noticed a small smile slip before it quickly fell.

“but i am here, okay? you got me. you’ve got nick and chris too. i’m never leaving you.”

your teary eyes met his, “can i have a hug?”

his face fell, “yn, you’re hurt—“

“please, matt.”

it didn’t take much convincing as he slowly lowered himself into your arms, his lips meeting the crown of your head, a soft whispered filling the room,

“god, i love you so much.”

[llokii]

I have Frank brain rot and it’s all Taylor Swifts fault:

(‼️ very brief and mild mentions of smut ‼️)

• Secretly living with Frank and being in soft domestic bliss (when he’s not out beating people up)

• Finally telling someone you’re his girl just for them to shake their head in disappointment.

• “I can’t believe you’re with someone like Frank” and “you’re too good for a criminal like him” are just a couple of the nicer things people have said about you and your love

• Staying confidently by his side despite the whispers and slander from ignorant bystanders sitting high on their barstools

• They could never understand. You can handle him. Yes, he’s dangerous. He could kill everybody in this bar if he wanted to but he wouldn’t put you in a situation like that.

• You know the power he holds and you love him for it. He’s your protector, your lover, your beautiful gorgeous man. All yours.

• The contrast between his large, calloused hands and your soft gentle ones being too much for others to comprehend

• How could you be so gentle with such a monster?

• More importantly, how could Frank Castle, The Punisher, the person who’s managed to strike fear into the souls of anyone who’s met him, become so soft for you?

• Everything about him is rough and rugged. Dirty and aggressive. And yet, there’s something about him when he’s with you. Is it a glimmer in his eyes? A shift in his tone of voice? The way he gently leads you to your seat with his hand on your lower back?

• He has a habit of calmly whispering tender secrets and the occasional snide joke about the rare passerby.

• Laughing and sharing drinks with you for hours on end. Surprising everyone around with how loose and alive he seems when he normally appears to be so emotionless and empty.

• You go home together and he gives you a look you’ve come to love. You’ll never get sick of this look. The one that means “I want you” and “you’re so gorgeous” and “I love you” and “please, please kiss me” all at once.

• When you’re alone together like this, between cotton sheets in the soft glow of a bedside lamp, he’s so beautiful and raw. So so unabashedly…. Frank.

• He is surprisingly submissive at times. Being so gentle with you and occasionally even begging “please touch me” or “oh god, please kiss me” and it’s impossible to deny these requests.

• You try not to think about how nobody approves of your love. In the end, their opinions don’t matter anyways. You know you love him and he lets you know time and time again that he loves you the same.

• But when you do think of these judgmental people, you’re often overcome with thoughts of lashing out. How dare they try to tell you who you can and can’t love?

• You would burn the whole world to the ground before giving in to their ignorance.

• You know this is the man you’ll marry some day. He’s ruined you for anybody else. There’s nobody else who could love you like he does, and there’s nobody else who could love Frank like you.

[yuanology]

Ok but your gojo content ,like I’m down bad I need more 👹 MORE!!!! 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

i hear you, anon, and i raise to you: gojo satoru who is a miracle.

this much has been established from the very beginning. with his six-eyes and inhumane abilities, satoru has been established to be a god amongst men from a terribly young age. he has always been a miracle, a weapon, an exception in a whole lot of somethings. gojo satoru, six-eyes, the strongest.

( and what a curse it is to bear: the title of the strongest, and the title of the loneliest. )

a miracle.

many people have called him that in the past. the phrase soon catches on and it becomes as common as he hears his name or six eyes or the strongest being tossed around. he's gojo satoru, the strongest, an outlier and a miracle. he doesn't exactly hate it. to him, it just becomes another piece of his identity, something else to define him but never to understand him.

but he likes it best when he hears it from you.

because when you say it, he always has to earn it. you call him a miracle, and your eyes go hazy when you say it, like you can't believe that he's standing there before you. you call him a miracle, and the corners of your lips curl into that soft little smile of yours that bleeds with so much fondness that sometimes, satoru has to double take in fear that he may have misunderstood (he never does; you're always still smiling at him like that and not at someone else, someone more deserving).

and he likes being a miracle, likes being your miracle, so he keeps trying. he struggles, sometimes, because he's not used to having to try, but the sight of your smile — the very idea of your approval — is more than enough to spur him to become better. he's stumbling over himself to make you happy, to provide things for you, to be quiet when he has to be (not that he has to be quiet often. despite what people often say of him, you enjoy hearing him talk — during the right moments. and, in a way, he gets that. he gets you), to be obedient and good (but never perfect because you never expect perfection out of him, only his best and for you, he's always at his best), to be your perfect doll (and is that not just the most perfect thought? to be yours to command and be used as you please. he doesn't have to be gojo satoru, doesn't even have to be satoru. he can just be yours).

he wants your attention, wants your eyes on him, wants you to smile at him with so much pride in your eyes, to touch him with such gentleness and to treat him as if he's good enough for you — as if he's the best thing to have ever happened to you.

as if he's a miracle.

he's rarely ever disobedient in bed. if anything, he's far too focused on your pleasure than he is in himself. he wants to see you fall apart just for him — because of him. he rides you as if there's no tomorrow, begs you to fuck him raw and hard as if he doesn't have a mission the next day, clings to you as if you'll disappear the moment he lets go. satoru likes it when you use him as if he's nothing but a fuck toy, yours to be used and abused. he likes it when you pin his wrists over his head on the surface underneath him, whispering destructive things about how you'll ruin him for anyone else in his ears, as your cock takes him apart until there's nothing left of satoru beyond the part of him that just wants you.

but satoru turns into a babbling fucking mess in your sheets who begs for you to slow down and be gentle with me when you fuck him like the world will extend its time for you. there are tears clouding the skies in the depths of his irises as you thrust into him lazily, dragging out the moment as if you have all the seconds in the world. he begs at you for more and for less all at once, clinging onto you as if he'll break apart if you let go.

( yes, he will. he will fall apart completely unless you stay. it's not fair, the sheer extent of your power over him. how can he live after this — after he knows what it means to truly be a miracle for someone? to be cared for with so much reverence, with so much affection, as if he can be enough if he just tries. if he is just good, even when he isn't perfect. if he's just satoru — your satoru. )

swallowing your cock down his throat, satoru has never felt more like a god than he does when he's on his knees, blinking up at you as he watches you fall apart. your lips part, giving room for the prettiest sounds to escape your throat as you spill all inside his mouth, painting it white. satoru keeps his mouth sealed around your cock, keeping his head in place until you tap the side of his head, beckoning him to pull off.

"fuck, 'toru." your voice is hoarse, a result of your own arousal and the product of how good he has been. you sound breathless, and he preens at the sight. "you were so good, baby."

but it's not the compliment that eventually brings him further down to his knees, his legs feeling weak where they're trembling underneath him. it's the way you're looking at him; as if nothing else in the world matters but the sight of him completely under your mercy right then, as if the whole world can pass you by and you wouldn't notice as long as he stays there with you. like he's a once in a lifetime apparition, as rare as a comet, as beautiful as a supernova. like he's more than just gojo satoru, more than what he can be, more than what he can do.

like he's a goddamn miracle.

like he's your goddamn miracle.

[calisources]

𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒.

All of these sentences are mostly taking by my own mind and i'm not joking. It was hard finding material quotes regarding tournaments in historical or fantasy setting. Some are from shows or media but eighty percent is all from my own mind, please give credit if use these. Change pronouns, names, locations as you see fit. All of these involve the medieval event of a tournament and what happens around them.

I fear I am already bending far too many rules just by taking you, my young princess.

Show me your hands, you will have blisters soon.

Lady Eglantine doesn’t believe in love, only lust.

In the world of competition, only the strongest shall prevail.

A true champion is not defined by their victories, but by the obstacles they've overcome.

Victory is sweetest when it's earned through sweat, hard work, and determination.

Will you not participate in the tourney, my lord? 

May I have the honor of wearing your favor today, my lady?

Good luck to you, my Prince.

The tournament is not just a test of skill, but a test of character as well.

Is it always this bloody? Will those poor men die? Someone must see them.

I want him to wear my favor.  Only him. 

If he wins, the knight has the right to name his Queen of Love and Beauty. And at the feast, they shall dance.

Be careful. A tourney is a grand place for courtly love, but also, for blood to rise and affairs to appear.

Call me what you like, say I'm without honor, I don't care. I'm not getting on any more horses to whack you people with a stick.

Kings may be chosen by God, but they still make the mistakes of men.

When even those who rule can sink this low, it is not possible to change anything.

It's my lucky charm, be sure to bring it back to me.

My favorite blue ribbon. Take it.

It will bring you good fortune and you will return from joust unharmed.

I was hoping to ask for the Princess's favor.

How about a kiss, for luck?

Courtly love was the culture around the performance of love at court.

And now, rather than admit these feelings, you're dancing around one another with this mind-numbing and frankly boorish mating ritual.

The knights take on the duties of shadows with pride.

Whoever wins the tournament, shall become the prince/princess’ new betrothed.

You want to marry my daughter? Prove yourself worthy.

Petyr survived only because I begged Brandon not to kill him.

When Petyr heard of my engagement, he challenged Brandon to a duel. 

You do qualify to marry my daughter.

What matters most is who she will give her favor to. 

Her face is one that can create dynasties or crumble empires.

I was hoping for a word before you rode on the tourney, my Prince. 

My brother is the one competing against you, please be gentle with him.

The games are done for the day, please, feast and drink as you wish. 

You have been staring all day, my lord. I was beginning to wonder if I had something in my face.

Any damsel that's in distress - she'll be out of that dress when she meets Jim West.

Great men do not seek power... they have power thrust upon them.

My daughter seems. . .infatuated with you. I have yet to see why.

The princess is naive and thinks any man who is kind means well. A tournament will only show her the reality of life.

You honor the arena with your combat. May your swords and shield preserve the peace.

In the songs all knights are gallant, all maids are beautiful, and the sun is always shining.

I will be brave for Princess Pea.

As a squire, your first duty is to your knight’s armor. Your knight’s armor is more important than your own life. 

You will be knighted and you will have earned your knighthood.

You are hurt. At least let me tend to your wound.

The men laugh and fight and the ladies search for husbands.

Nothing like a good tournament to find a husband, or a companion for the night. 

Rumors are always spread with ease in these.

Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life?

You say I'll never get your blessing till the day I die.

We're married now, but we still haven't told your dad. This is the right time.

Are you promised to someone?

My sister's getting married. It's a love match. A rare thing. I’m not so lucky. My husband is to be chosen by who can hold a sword the longer.

Why can’t women participate in the games?

There are games for the ladies, Your Grace. But they are less. . .gruesome. And of course, the dancing.

Princes and Princess all over the realm and across the sea are coming for this event. You must shine brighter.

Let me help you with your armor. It appears loose.

As I promised, I return your favor to you, my lady. 

The Prince never loses a joust. He will crown his queen and then all will be well.

I do not understand the appeal of this. 

I spend days making these favors, let me stay a little longer.

My lady, I do not need your favor to win, but perhaps, a kiss of good faith. 

I do not care who wins these games, your hand is already arranged for another.

Men are scoundrel, specially when blood runs hot after a good battle, stray away from them.

These games are done in honor of the king’s heir.

The lord’s daughter is said to have bloomed, and the man chooses to announce it like this. 

A tournament is for men to boost their strength, fathers sell their daughters like mares and for affairs to happen.

I saw you on the stands today, my lord. But you did not participate on the games.

My brother wishes to dance with you, my lady. He is all too shy to ask himself.

You were injured. Have you allowed someone to heal them or are you too stubborn to let them?

Princess, you must not stray too far away. 

Mother is too drunk and annoyed to care, she won’t mind. 

[throneofsapphics]

Oh gods your angst fics are just so so so so good. The knuckles one? Give it to me in an IV drip 😭

Please I beg (gently), a fic where the bat boys or poly acotar couple keep the reader from harming themselves?

So sorry if this is too dark, or not something you’re interested in! Please ignore if so.

Thank you for being so talented 💕

a different kind of fear 

(part two)

Nessian x Reader

Summary: Nesta and Cassian catch reader at a vulnerable moment. 

Warnings: self harm, descriptions of injuries, blood, angst-ish?, not proofread 

A/N: you are so damn sweet thank you <3, I’m glad you like them! I surprised myself doing nessian for this, but I’ve already got ideas for a feysand one too 

Everything was too much. Too gods-damned much, she thought she’d lose it. She wanted control over something - anything. 

Her eyes found the small line up of daggers on the chest. Some of them hers, most of them Cassian or Nesta’s. 

Almost on autopilot, she walked towards them, eyes zeroing in on her first. Her hand grasped the cool metal of the dagger. Grounding her, bringing her an inch back towards reality. A small shift and she faced the mirror. The coolness against her skin felt right. Slowly she pressed it against her forearm, letting it rest against her pulse. She winced as she shifted it slightly, a small knick on her forearm, and the blood dripped down - falling on the cream colored nightgown. It felt strangely like warm water. 

She felt out of control, like her body was moving on its own - her mind separate from her conscious. Every inch of her focused on that small cut. On how it felt good - good to have some sort of control. She gave her attention to the mirror, and brought it up towards her neck. She knows she won’t slit her throat - won’t kill herself, but the temptation to feel that kind of control, to feel the metal against her skin was too much, and she brought it up towards her throat. 

It could have been seconds - or hours, but she stood there, slightly shifting the knife back and forth. She winced as a small slice cut against the front of her throat - not enough to kill or severely injure her, but blood dripped down her throat, her chest, staining the top of her nightgown - turning it a sort of pink color. Freedom, that’s how it felt. 

-

Nesta thought she knew fear. She’d faced death and spit it’s cold and ugly face, but walking into their bedroom, Cassian on her tails, to see her in front of the mirror, a knife held to her neck, blood trailing down her skin, in a trance of sorts, her eyes far gone from this reality. Fear, pure fear filled both her and her mate behind her. She glanced at Cassian, and his eyes had gone wide and she could hear his heart nearly bleeding out of his chest. 

He took a few steps - silent, careful not to scare her, not with how damn close that knife is to slitting her throat. Gods she was already bleeding, the blood soaking her neck and dripping onto her clothes. She wanted to sprint over there, to rip that damned dagger from her hands and clutch her tightly, but a warning glance from Cassian kept her from doing that. 

-

She heard the door open and close, vaguely aware of someone else’s presence in the room. Two someone’s. Cassian and Nesta. She couldn’t bring herself to lower it, her body froze in place. 

“Y/n.” Cassian’s voice was gentle and soft, “put the knife down sweetheart,” but she didn’t miss the demand in his voice. Almost a command, trying to force her to do something. Her mind recoiled against it, even as the sensible part of her knew she should listen. 

“Put it down.” Nesta’s voice was harsher, and she spotted Cassian glaring at her from the mirror. They kept taking careful steps towards her, and she watched. Her body was completely still, frozen in time and place. 

As she didn’t move, they kept carefully approaching. Then, she felt their panic. A tang of guilt ran through her, but before she could process it more, a large hand clasped around her wrist, yanking it away from her, squeezing until she dropped it. 

Smaller hands tugged her back, away from the mirror, and spun her - crushing her into Nesta’s chest. One hand dug in the back of her hair, holding her tightly. Nesta was shaking, she realized - her hand shaking slightly against the back of her head. 

“Get her cleaned up.” Cassian sounded unusually grave. She half expected Nesta to snip back at the order, like she usually would, but the female led her towards the bathroom. Y/n was vaguely aware of Nesta washing her, her pinched face as she cleaned the small wounds - already healing quickly, but she still rubbed a salve over them. For once, she didn’t protest and let Nesta dress her, taking care of everything.

When they came back out, there wasn’t a single blade in sight. Cassian stood by the door, his hair ruffled like he’d been running his hands through it. He saw the exhausted expression on her face - fatigue had set in. 

“We’ll talk about it in the morning.” His voice was clipped, but there was a softness in his eyes. Nesta shuffled her over to the bed, pushing her towards the middle. They caged her in on each side, holding her tightly, like she might disappear at any given moment.

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

Hello dear, "will you pray for me" will have a second part? bc the first is magnificent 😋🫣

WILL YOU PRAY FOR ME? ( House of the Dragon x Reader ) Pt. 2

AUTHOR NOTE! Yes. I need to write more of Aegon so that I can make the perfect mix of TV SHOW and BOOK! Aegon for my fic, 'THE CONQUEROR REBORN'. [ Yes that is me shamelessly promoting it. Check out the link for it in my previous posts. ] <3 pairing: DARK! Aegon ii Targaryen x Fem! Hightower! Reader prompt: Aegon returns back from the Battle of Rook's Rest, seeking comfort from his bride-to-be. Only then does chaos ensure. word count: 1, 298+ words

As soon as he had left the Sept. You prayed, and prayed, and prayed to whoever would listen to your sobs and prayers. It did not matter if it was the Gods of Old, New or the forgotten ones. A twisted part of you praying that Aegon did not survive the battle, that he would be dead. That you would be spared of being his second wife. You did not wish for it. To be married to him nonetheless, not when the glint in his eyes made it clear that it would not be a pleasant marriage. 

When the aching of your knees grew too much from praying for hours on end, you returned to the Red Keep. Hoping that Alicent or even Otto would confirm it was Aegon playing a cruel jest on you. But, when Alicent burst into tears, begging you to forgive her for not protecting you hard enough. It was then that you realized Aegon was being serious. Dead serious.

You would be his bride, his little thing, the thing he would use to warm his bed, to do whatever he wished. Not unless you found a way out of it, one that would keep your reputation still in tack. So lying about being a maiden would not work. Then, it clicked, a betrothal. 

Aegon would not be able to protest if you were already promised to another. The new task came in finding someone to marry you. Someone of decent standing, who would be willing to offer just enough protection from Aegon. That’s where Lord Redwyne came in. From a good House and standing, kind and loyal. A good ally to the Green’s. To lose him would be a costly thing. It was perfect. You were saved. 

Holding the hand of Lord Redwyne, you give him a gentle smile, happy that he was willing to take the burden of protecting you from Aegon. No matter how many times you had said your thanks, it felt like it would not be enough. Not many men would dare to do something like this for a woman, many saw women as things, not people. So for him to do such a thing showed that he either cared, or it was a matter of pride and defending his honor. 

Watching as the carriage slowly pulls into the courtyard, you shift in place, fear bubbling up within you. You did not know how Aegon would react. Would he yell? Would he get violent? Would he demand of you both to be thrown into the Black Cells? Feeling a gentle kiss be placed on your knuckles, you turn your head away, feeling at ease at the caring gaze of Lord Redwyne. Instantly feeling better, you look back, watching a now injured Aegon limp out of the carriage. 

“Rook’s Rest is ours. Now, where is Y/n, I wish to see my bride.” Aegon states, a smug grin tugging at his lips. 

“Aegon, let us speak⎯” Alicent tries to interfere.

“No, Mother. Where is she?” Aegon cuts in, his voice cold. 

Not daring to speak up, you look him over carefully. His left side was wrapped in bandages, with tiny specs of burnt flesh peaking through. His armor was charred only on the left side, leaving you to guess that he had been attacked on the left side on dragonback. Feeling his predatory gaze shift onto you, you resist the urge to cower, using Lord Redwyne as a shield. 

“What is this?” Aegon states an unnerving lack of emotion in his voice. 

“I am betrothed to Lord Redwyne, your grace. I am unable to marry you as my hand is already taken, your grace.” You explain, hoping it would be enough to deter him.

“No.” He states, “No.” 

No? Was he honestly just saying no like it would change anything?

“Ser Cristion, kill Lord Redwyne, dispose of his body how you see fit. Lady Y/n will be coming with me to my chambers.” Aegon states, almost as if he was speaking of weather and not murder. 

Feeling the blood drain from your face at his casual orders, you turn to Ser Cristion, the Hand just as equally shell shocked. He was not serious, was he? He wouldn’t dare to kill Lord Redwyne, an ally of his, someone that he needed to win the war. This could not be happening. Looking between a stone-faced Aegon and Ser Crisiton, nobody moves or says a word. 

It was just palpable tension in the air that brewed in the stillness. Glancing over to Lord Redwyne, he only stares Aegon down, the two clearly size each other up. Surprisingly, Lord Redwyne doesn’t back down, still standing toe-to-toe with Aegon. Which only made the darkness in Aegon’s eyes grow more and more. 

“You can either break the betrothal with Lady Y/n and leave a living man, or I will kill you myself and still take her as my wife.” Aegon states, cutting the silence. 

No. No. No. This could not be happening. This was supposed to be your escape. Your way of getting rid of him.

“I suggest you pick the latter..” Aegon adds, “Before I decide that mercy is below me.”

“Your grace, you cannot be⎯”

“No, no, I am. Now, like I said, leave before I decide that mercy is below me.” Aegon argues, a dead serious look on his face. 

Looking at Lord Redwyne, you prayed that he would not back down, that he would stand up for you and refuse to let you become Aegon’s second wife. Feeling tears tickle up in your eyes, Lord Redwyne pulls your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on your knuckles. There was a glint, a glint of regret and sorry in his eyes and you just knew. He was going to leave you. 

He mutters a quick, ‘I am sorry, my Lady.’, before swiftly leaving you with Aegon.

“No..” You whisper, your voice so soft that it nearly went unnoticed. 

“Wise choice, Lord Redwyne.” Aegon smirks, the feeling of doom crashing down on you.

“No..” You whisper, a single tear falling down your cheek. 

Holding back the tears that continued to bubble in your eyes, it took everything in you to not start sobbing as realty crashed down on you. No one, not even the most honorable men, would be willing to protect you from Aegon. You would be his bride. It would be happening whether you liked it or not. 

Feeling a bandaged finger brush against your cheek, you are snapped back to reality, remembering who stands next to you. Turning your head to go over and look at him, there is a smug smirk tugging at his lips, the healing burn scar just above his left eyebrow only making him look more sinister. 

“Come, my little bride. I need someone to tend to my wounds.” Aegon orders, dragging you by the wrist. 

----

@lovelykhaleesiii

@fragileheartbeats

@danytar

@nightvers

[alenseress]

"You love me," he jokes.

"I do," Mihawk doesn't joke in general.

Shanks gags around the accidental mouthful of jerky, desperately trying to push it down. Or up. Mihawk doesn't look up, in fact, doesn't budge at all, eyes stuck to the same word in the line.

"The—" Shanks wheezes. Shanks chokes and coughs and wiggles like a dying roach before spitting the sorry chunk out and rasping "the fuck you do" with teary eyes.

It sounds offended. A little bit hurt, metaphorically and literally. Mihawk pulls his knees up to his chest, shuts the book closed between them and clutches freezing fingers into tight fists. Then, folds his arms too for a good measure, as Shanks slides across the crow's nest in one hurried effort. It's a mere few seconds of wailing, creaking and yelping in a small space between the railings before the book he was reading tumbles down, down, down, and Shanks pulls himself up, up, up, squeezing in between Mihawk's thighs. It looks fucking scary. It feels fucking scary, with everything swaying and moaning around them from the sudden commotion and Mihawk hears a splash as he desperately clings to Shanks' collar, body pushed into awkward angles beneath the weight of another.

"What is wrong with you?!"

Shanks has that face on, one of mad childlike stubbornness, with pouting frown and searching eyes, and the wind is oh so harsh against Mihawk's back. He doesn't know what to do, every muscle very much frozen in something akin to animalistic panic. Shanks pushes for both of them, forehead pressing into his with skull-cracking force.

"Say it again."

"No."

"Captain's order."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"You're on my ship."

"That's not—"

Hands let go of the railing and touch his chin. No, cup. Hold between two palms, fingers brushing loose hair away, shaking, begging. "Mihawk, please."

Mihawk pulls the collar and bites into the sodden mouth. Hard enough to make the dry lip pop with blood, not hard enough for the bastard to let go. He keens instead, scooting in closer, so much that his knees slide almost entirely under Mihawk's behind and tip him over. There's a moment of cold fear and hearts dropping as Mihawk's head and hat fall between the spindles and someone shrieks "what the hell is going on up there" from the deck.

"Got it! Nothing!" Shanks wheezes, yanking Mihawk on top of himself, slapping a cheek to the bare chest. A few heartbeats later, a sheepish confirmation comes. "Got it?"

Mihawk squeezes his thighs and nods with a gulp, fingers stupidly not letting go of the hat's brim.

God, help them all.

The wind blows and blows, the breaths get slower, the tense muscles grow tired, and Mihawk feels himself slouch. Shanks rubs his ear slowly, almost as surprised at the loss of contact, and blinks up — all blood and snot and dried tears Mihawk rolls his eyes at.

"You're a pig of a man," he sighs, not sounding half as annoyed as he intended, not half as disgusted as he should be, wiping the scrunched face with a sleeve.

"Let me try," the captain whispers, and Mihawk waits for him to push his arm away, confused, but lips meet lips in a gentle press again and, oh, oh Shanks definitely tries.

Mihawk laughs into his face, into his neck, elbows finding rest on his shoulders, legs wrapping around his waist in surrender. He cradles the heavy red head as the man, the boy, runs the last of his quiet tears into his shirt.

"I'm so fucking tired of you."

"You're too young to be tired of anything, Red."

Shanks pulls away and slumps back, running palms along Mihawk's lost in the air forearms, holding his wrists gently. Not slim enough for the ring of fingers to connect around them, not firm enough to be meant for holding.

"I can't promise you anything," he tries once more, staring empty at the thumbs caressing him.

Shanks looks up with the same pout. "You just did."

"That wasn't a promise."

"Then let me try again," the grip grows tighter. "Until I get it right."

He won't, Mihawk knows.

They try again.

[danosrosegarden]

Hiiiiii loveee I wasn’t sure if ur valentines request were open or what- if they aren’t please feel free to ignore this

I’m in need for soft Eddie and just soft NSFW maybe fem reader takes care of him and just smothers him and just WOWBUWHE

BODYWORSHIP PLEASE I WANNA KISS THAR MANS THIGHS AND HIS CUTE TUMMY NEED HIN

ok sorry about that 😞

amour plastique - edward nashton x fem!reader headcanons (NSFW) ₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊

{valentine's requests: three ♡}

{contains: anxiety/insecurity on edward's end, oral sex (male receiving), overall fluff and comfort. <3}

♡ Your words of encouragement and affirmation were thick and sweet and bubbled in his heart like drizzling honey, but Edward could not shake the chronic feeling that he was not enough.

♡ What does enough even mean, Eddie? you had asked him one night in the soft, quiet glow of the fairy lights strung around your bedroom walls. What do you mean, not enough? You always make me feel so good. You're so gentle with me. You make me feel special. What else could I want from you?

♡ It sinks its talons into his heart and twists his stomach into impossible knots, the thought that he could lose you. That you'd find someone better. That you could be lying about how he made you feel. He knew you'd never, but that's just what a mind plagued with blackened, grimy worry did to his thoughts. The idea of being naive enough to fall for a fake, plastic love ignited a great, fiery fear within him. You were all he had. He could not afford for it to be a lie.

♡ As soon as you noticed him growing distant, you decided to prune his fears. You could not afford to lose him, either. Edward handled your heart with steady, loving hands, caressing the veins with careful, gentle brushes. Where could you find another guy like that in Gotham?

♡ The lights in the room glowed dimly as your fingers tenderly brushed up and down his bare thighs. He laid before you on your bed, one hand petting your head and the other holding your free hand. Even with his dick out and throbbing, shimmering pearls of precum leaking down onto his skin, he was such a swooning romantic. You laughed at the juxtaposition.

♡ "What's funny?" he asked defensively. You shook your head as you unlinked your hands. "Nothing. You're just cute."

♡ Even in the gloomy, shadowy light of the dim bedroom, you could still see the broiling hot blush dusted across Edward's cheeks as you planted tender kisses on the plush thickness of his thighs. His legs were already shaking from anticipation. As you sewed more slow, mellow kisses onto his skin, your hand trailed up to his dribbling cock. He squeaked out a high whine as you gave his shaft a soft squeeze.

♡ "D-don't tease," he whined. You gave a chuckle as your hand pumped his cock loosely. The sticky, wet sounds lacing the air in the room were already making your cheeks pop with warmth and desire. "You're so pretty when you're being teased, though," you argued, a wide grin slathered across your face. "You buck your hips and grip the sheets and god..." you trailed off. "It makes me want to play around with you for hours."

♡ Edward squirmed and writhed, his body begging for just a little more contact, just a pinch more friction. Though you truly could've watched his chest shudder and his hips swivel for forever, you decided he'd been good. He always was, wasn't he? Always so ready to take whatever you'd give him, bleating out the sweetest little thank yous and more, pleases all the while.

♡ A high, crackling moan slithered out from his throat as you reached forward and your tongue found his drooling head. His hands flew to the back of your head. He was careful not to thrust his hips forward or push down too hard on your head. He was always so soft with you.

♡ The warbling whimpers that flossed themselves through the air went straight to your core. A familiar tingling warmth crackled through your body. It was hard to control yourself when the sounds he made were just so beautiful, beyond difficult to stop yourself from reaching down and giving your clit gentle, circular rubs. You instead focused your energy on your Eddie.

♡ It took a bit of strength not to chuckle when you looked up at him while continuing to bob your head. He was in heaven, his eyes squeezed shut and his round cheeks burnt a blistering pink as more blissed-out groans dripped from his mouth.

♡ "S-so good," he said. "You're so good to me."

♡ Not to say that sex put a band aid over every insecurity and problem, but you at least hoped that giving him this token of your appreciation made him feel a bit more loved. You adored everything that Edward was. The way he stuck his tongue out in concentration when solving a crossword puzzle, the way he'd slowly melt into your hugs, the sound of his high giggles when he was stumbling through telling you a joke, the smell of his body wash and shampoo trailing against his skin as your bodies pressed against each other in bed. Everything about Edward was bewitching to you. You hoped he'd recognize it completely one day.

[azurlily]

Hange zoe DATING headcannons (your choice on sfw or nsfw or both if you’d like!) -🐢

Dating Hange Zoe would be like:

Hange is a scientist, so of course they need to gather research on you before "jumping to conclusions".

She'll watch you when out on missions just in case a titan gets a bit too close. Cant have her lover getting hurt, right?

Depending on wether you are a cadet or not, she will either show too much or little amounts to PDA.

If you are a cadet(18 OR OVER), well she'll keep your relationship a secret until she feels comfortable. If not, be prepared they love to show you off.

Hange keeps you close in a secret fear of never seeing you again. What if you're out on a mission and DIE? They wouldn't be able to bear it.

Hange sometimes uses their rank to get you things. Extra food, water, anything she can find.

Will start thinking about you when they are pulling an all nighter and cant stop. They wonder where you are, if you're asleep, if you're awake... if you're cheating on them

Hange is very self conscious about herself. She thinks that she isn't good enough sometimes and doesn't know what to do.

You, of course squash these thoughts by kissing her and showing her you love her. You show her how important she is to you.

Hanges kisses are gentle and sweet. She can get a little overwhelming due to the fact that shes just so happy to see you.

Dont ever let her sweet demeanor fool you though. They could very easily hurt someone or something if mad enough.

Example: Levi had made a comment about you being unprofessional because he believes your relationship(all relationships not just the gay ones) should be kept private. He berated you and told you to this is the military your could die any day.

You told Hange, and by the gods. You have never seen her so mad. They told you it was okay, and that they would "talk" to Levi.

The talking that she did ended up in her blowing up about how rude it was and how Levi wouldn't understand because his lover is dead. She slapped Levi and told him, "When you understand how afraid I am for her safety, you can talk about relationships."

You never thought she'd get mad enough to mention them(no real lover I'm just using this). Levi didn't say anything, he should have, but he didn't. Hange is the commander now, Hange is in control.

When Hange came back to you she promised it was handled nicely and neatly.

You never had a problem with anyone talking about your relationship ever again.

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

Hard, fast, rough. Maybe a bit sweet.(not maybe definitely) Hange gets quite needy after overworking and needs some help. You'll help her right?

They like being in control. With losing everyone and becoming commander she needs a form of stress relief.

They like when you call them daddy, seeing as they feel more masculine in bed. The first time you called them daddy. Well, your thighs hurt with how good she fucked you.

They love to eat you out. She prefers you not eat her, but if you convince her to let you. You'll have them wrapped tight around your finger.

She eat you for hours, she loves when you cry, and whine, and beg. She loves hearing you please for mercy while you both know she ain't giving you none.

"Aww, yes, I know it hurts. I know, but you'll take it, you'll take me. Now open those pretty thighs up again, I wasn't done."

Dont try bratting with them, it only makes things worse for you. They are the definition of fuck around and find out in bed. The madder she is the rougher she gets.

If you're sweet though, she'll treat you like the pretty little slut you are. She'll tell you, you're a good little slut and fuck you till you're both numb.

She has high stamina during the day. Why wouldn't she at night too?

"Fuckk, such a dumb little slut. You sure know how to eat me out. Maybe I'll reward you if you're good. You wanna be a good slut for me?

Dont worry she'll reward you, she melts when you eat her. Dont let her try and fool you.

As you can see she has a praise and degradation kink. They'll bully you in bed, make you cry(tears of pleasure), while fucking you so hard it should hurt.

Then again, you are her slut. So why does it matter if it hurts, you're here to feel good, to be overstimulated til you can't move, much less talk.

Aftercare is something out of this world. She'll bring you food, water, and will help you clean up.

She constantly reassures you she isn't mad, that she loves you, that you're hers. Shes so gentle with you.

She'll help you fall asleep and lay there for a while playing with your hair/drawing shapes on your skin with her hand.

Hii 🐢! I'm so glad someone has put in a request. It's not the best hit I'm working on my writing skills! I use a mixture of she/they for Hange seeing as I dont know if they are nonbinary or if that's a rumor. Anyway thank you for reading!

[konigsblog]

I'm so obsessed with the thought of Price having a corruption kink.

// legal age gap, corruption, virginity loss, dumbification

real, he definitely does. i mean, just look at him! he's the captain, your superior, able to order you around and bark at you for not doing something fast enough of good enough. you sometimes feel overwhelmed, fearful to hand in a report incase it's not up to his standards. punishments will be set in place if you're not able to do something good enough, bent over his desk while he asks you questions on the report, stuff you should know ...

he'll force his fat cock into your tight, little hole. seeing you gasping and mewling, pleading with him to be gentle, your insides sore from his pace :( his voice guttural and low, chuckling in your ear and growling when you squirm. you're so inexperienced... so much younger than him, a private, a rookie, someone too scared to ask questions to any of your superiors.

he definitely has a dumbification kink as well, he loves to make you feel stupid. i mean, you can barely even do a report well enough. getting your virgin, unused cunt ruined by him, begging to cum all over his dick, your orgasm denied till he's happy with your report. coming back with shakey, trembling legs and a flushed face, wanting to cum all over a cock as thick as his, pushed up against his desk and your legs spread, fingering you nonchalantly while he reads the report. maybe, just maybe, he'll fuck you as a reward, or maybe you'll need some pussy slaps for an innocent mistake ... :(

“dumb fuckin' girl. c'mon, private, 's not that fucking hard, rookie. do i need someone as stupid as you in my team? hah-god, baby, stop whinin' 'nd maybe i'll let you cum once you finish that report.”