#fat burning complex

[vapelomundo]

LIV PURE (🛑BIG WARNING!🛑) LivPure Review Reviews - Liv Pure Weight Loss ...

[nutriwellnesshq]

Are you struggling to lose weight, no matter how much you diet or exercize?

[dmitriene]

THOUGHTS ABOUT SIMON WITH CLINGY GF.

cw: fluff, comfort, slighty suggestive, clingy behavior, intimacy, mentions of sex, many cuddles, established relationship pairing: bf simon riley x gf fem reader

authors note: just something little and silly before the fic i will post in the weekends

 ✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3. ˑ༄

simon was literally perfect for cuddling with, a wide body chiseled by army training, countless missions and his complex past, voluminous biceps and broad shoulders, toned and slightly hard muscles that became more than limp with time, age, and your comfort.

the muscles of his abdomen became softer and softer each time and even had a little fat on them, not like something bad, on the contrary, it was one of the most comfortable pillows in the world, quite often you lay on his stomach while resting, noticing how periodically he tensed and his muscles became harder under you before relaxing, his wide fingers tangled in your hair.

hugs with him were pleasant, as if being in the paws of a bear — pressing into his round, vast chest, causing him some embarrassment and hoarse coughs, but one way or another he would still circle you with his hands, squeezing carefully, as gently as he could, not wanting to hurt you, pressing himself into the top of your head, gently and hoarsely muttering, allowing you to feel how his chest rumbles — «feeling comfy, love?»

the answer is always the same, — «mhm, yeah», whenever the question is asked and at what time, you felt more than comfortable around him, literally sticking to him, your hands were always on him — hugging, feeling, stroking his tense muscles before starting to massage them, tracing his scars on his naked torso when you lay together in bed or washed, allowing you to look at the scattering of different types of traces of his past and outline each one, linking your fingers with them like constellations.

simon loved your behavior, oh, he more than adored the feeling of how you clinged to him and hugged him — his muscles went limp and any worries literally evaporated as soon as you touched him in an affectionate, gentle manner, as if your whole being was focused on him, to him, it's seems that you touch him like a fragile figurine, because most of the touches he has experienced are rough handshakes, slaps on the back or shoulder, the barrel of a gun near his temple.

you were the epicenter of his love and tenderness, when you first started dating and he contacted you, simon was ready to swear that every word of love and touch brought him almost to tears, something inside him was constantly tingling and responding, screaming, like an inner child — no matter how hardened a soldier is, there is a fragility hidden within him, masked and covered by roughness, and simon more than deserved to open up and allow himself to feel, cry, love, and laugh.

moving on from the sad, most of your time was spent in the bedroom — not counting the typical activities after which the neighbors complained about the noise, and the sheets needed to be changed from wet spots, and not to mention your wobbly legs and bucking knees, as well as a slight burning between your legs from how his tongue, fingers, and girthy cock spent a lot of time in your aching cunt.

you often lay in an embrace just relaxing, be it regular days or the days after he returned from deployment, or while watching tv whose position in the bedroom was quite comfortable, you had freedom of action both to watch your favorite programs and to snuggle up to his muscular, voluminous thigh — pressing your cheek into hardened softness and wrapping two arms around him, squeezing his leg until simon practically fell asleep, leaning on the headboard and soft pillows, lazily combing through your hair and stroking your head, your ear and your cheek, relishing in softness, mumbling somehow thoughtfully and sleepily — «you're so soft, lovie, bloody squishy toy»

a loud giggle escapes your lips at his words as you nuzzle into his thigh before lifting yourself up and crawling towards his arm as he lifts it for you, allowing you to position yourself so that he can wrap his arms around you, burying your face in the softness of his chest, while you whisper — «mm, you're soft too, si»

he frowns slightly, grumbles a little tiredly before squeezing you tighter, completely relaxed while crumpling your body in his arms over your clothes, content with the softness under his rough fingers before muttering — «'m not»

— «you are, you're soft, i can cuddle with you like if hugging a bea — ah!» you don’t have time to finish your sentence, pressing into his chest and looking at his closed eyes with fluttering light eyelashes when he pinches you over your clothes, it still hurts a little, though, before he is patting this place as if in pity when you let out a squeak and a whimper, but actually forgetting about the pain immediately when he scoops you even closer to his body and commands a little sternly, using his lieutenant tone — «shush it, be good and lay obediently, eh?»

and who in their right mind would refuse such, roughly speaking, request?

no one, so you calmly relax, and, finding yourself literally squished in his arms, you allow your eyelids to become heavy for a brief moment and fall asleep with him, burying yourself in the top of his hair while he fidgeted slightly against the softness of your chest with a relaxed sigh and quiet snoring, limp next to you and squeezing his arms around your waist like a lock, surrendering to a short moment of sleep and the comfort of your presence nearby, even if your hands periodically squeeze his chest area, just by accident.

[azullumi]

"it's you hiding in limelight" ; aventurine

requested by anon — “can you do or already done pre-relationship aventurine headcanons? like what is he like before and how he warms up” premise — it takes a lot for him to trust someone. it’s a gentle and steady process; the fire burns slowly between you and him, and despite the uncertainty whether the flame is going to burn out or consume him in the end, he lets the warmth seep through the cracks of his soul. content tags and warnings — pairing: gender-neutral reader w/ aventurine | pre-relationship, fluff, a little word vomit, not proofread | wc: 0.7k ; headcanons

note from me — i was so conflicted while writing this,, and it doesn't help that i'm trying to figure out if my cat is pregnant or just fat...

It’s not easy to make AVENTURINE warm up.

He doesn’t trust anyone easily, seeing relationships as superficial, as something that is simply a give-and-take thing, a bet, a deal. He has quite a one-way view on relationships, only seeing it as something that would be beneficial to him—it’s not like he knows how to maintain such relationships either. He thinks that showering them with gifts, no matter how expensive, would make them stay, a key to securing loyalty and affection.

So when he finds himself slowly being drawn to you, being at ease whenever you’re around, as he initiates small talks and silly bets, he wouldn’t know how to break it down from there. You’re just so warm and easy to talk to, it’s comforting (like a gentle breeze). He simply keeps everyone at arm’s length, maintaining a careful distance, and yet, like a living paradox, he can feel intimately close at times to you—it’s his subtle flirting, consistent compliments, and often lingering touches.

He is hesitant in all of his bones, hard to grasp, complex and distant, but if you reach even for a little, he’ll let you hold him in your hands. He’s confusing; the thread of his words and actions are intertwined with each other but you can never find the meaning of it. It’s a heavy needlepoint of embroidery that can never be finished, a small part missing from the piece and you could never figure out what it is that you’re lacking. It’s not easy to tell if he sees you only as a friend or something more than that.

You need to be patient and persistent with him, understanding that he himself struggles with the idea of vulnerability; he fears that opening up to pain and disappointment, leaving him on his own in the end. However, over time, he eventually lowers his guard and allows himself to trust you, finding solace in your presence. When the two of you first met, his shoulders were always tense and he kept his emotions guarded behind a mask, but now, he lets go of what he carries even if it’s just for a bit, as long as it’s you he is with.

You can feel the distance closing in, the fine-drawn line of vulnerability and wariness seaming into one. You can almost touch the vanishing point between you and him, intertwining with each other, and you don’t fail to recognize the subtle shift in his actions, in his gestures, in everything about him and all that you knew.

It may be a small and mundane thing but his tendency to shower his “friends” with expensive gifts and asking to choose among which one that they would like—albeit he also does to you on some occasions—all contrasts with the simplicity of the tokens he gives you. He reserves a different kind of gesture for you, one that is laced with thoughtfulness and sincerity rather than the utter value of the gift itself.

Probably brought a bracelet one time and told you of it, but didn’t mention that it has a pair, a matching one, which he bought for himself (and never wore). He has it hidden in his drawers, amidst his precious items, only to take out from time to time to stare at it. It’s a secret he’ll forever take to his grave.

Your constant reassurance, gentleness, and kindness breaks down his defenses, the mask crumbling into unrecognizable pieces. He didn’t think he would trust someone this much, nor would he ever harbor such soft feelings—velveted affections, sweet sounds of laughter, benign words that buries itself in his chest, finding solitude in one another’s presence, basking in the warmth of it all.

Oh, to have someone see him beyond the walls he built, it scares him in some way—when you have forever listened to the chorus of condemns orchestrated by your mind, you’ll only think that you’re unlovable to anyone, that’s how it was for him, and yet to you, it comes easy as if he’s simply tangled threads that only needs to be unraveled carefully and gently. He didn’t know nor did he ever think that you'd see stars on his scars when he laid himself bare for you to see the marks that dusted his skin.

Aventurine feels like he could drown in the feeling. It’s a gentle tide that crawls to the shore and drags him along with the warm currents (the smell of blood is replaced with the taste of salt on his lips); a tender fire that burns slowly, and despite the uncertainty whether the flame is going to burn out or consume him, he’ll let the light in.

GRAH DRUM ROLLS PLEASE IM ANNOUNCING THE PRESENCE OF THE OUTSTANDING AND AMAZING FELI @dr-felitas (sometimes i type in your old user and wonder why it's not popping out and then i just go oh!) anyways, this is for you my fellow dry-talker npc,, i honestly find it cute that we're starting to adopt each other's mannerisms or texting language or pattern cause like i only started saying "right!?" (when i agree on something) because of you (back then i only say real or just nothing at all :D) and i think i began to use some of your vocabulary 😭. and somehow my ability to understand and read through typos are getting better all thanks to you 🔥🔥🔥 the world will end first before you even get to spell that word properly jkjk i love you with all of your typos, incoherent words, stupid autocorrect mwamwamwa (i say as if im im not the same) !! anyways you are a light in my life and you're one of the reasons why i still continue to pick up the pen and write !! you've been of great help and inspiration in my writings <33 without you, i probably wouldn't be able to get through the hell hole of last month, thank you. ily lots mwaa !!

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[rebee-sweetie]

I have three main head cannons for Bakugo, which these are smutty head cannons, so read at your own risk. 18+

First of all, This man is very into rough sex. You are constantly sore. Half the time he’s pissed off from hero work, Deku, or some extra. Which means for you, the sex is rough. He’ll pound into you against a wall, the bed, the table, honestly anywhere. The lewd sound of slick skin on skin slapping each other. If your cunt isn’t sore by the time he’s done with you, his theology is he didn’t go at you hard enough. His goal is to fuck you till you can’t think straight and he will fuck you dumb. Bakugo loves to find every part of you that is sensitive, inside and out. Sucking on your nipples and pulling away with a hollow popping sound, maintaining eye contact the entire time. He makes sure that every part of you is overstimulated. Your nipples so sensitive that gently brushing it will make you gasp and wiggle in his grasp. Or your clit will be swollen and gently circling it will make your entire body jolt. Bakugo’s crimson eyes are constantly dark with a deep hunger for you. There isn’t a single spot he hasn’t discovered and he’ll tell you,

“M’ the best, Your body outta know it too. You’re gonna continue to cum on this cock till I’m done with you baby.”

Second of all, this man likes marking you up and he wants you to mark him too. It’s bound to happen in the heat of rough sex. Lewd noises, loud moaning, and the sound of hot panting breath. If you’re against the wall, his fingers will be digging into your hip fat. Leaving burning, tingling markings on the tender fat there. When looking in a mirror hours later it’ll still be there. Sucking and marking up your neck, chest and whatever else he can get a hold of. He loves to slap your ass and see a hot, red, welt impression of his large hand on your soft cheek. He finds marking you up incredibly sexy and it makes him all the more feral. When you sink your nails into his back, leaving long, red stokes on his back, he lets out such a deep, husky groan it makes your pretty little pussy quiver. Bakugo will lean down, nibble on your earlobe, lick up on the cartilage of your ear, A gentle low rumbling chuckle escaping him and huskily ask,

“Do you like that baby? Do you like when I groan for you? M’ fuck you till you can’t fucking walk. This pussy is mine now and your gonna know it too.”

Third of all, and the final head cannon. This man has a praise kink. I absolutely can’t be convinced otherwise. For how bad this man struggles with an inferiority complex, he loves being praised. He will never admit that he loves praise and will constantly down play your praise by saying “Yeah I know!” Or “Of course m’ the best.” Nonetheless he acts like he’s above it because my man here also has a pride issue. But he’ll play that shit on loop all day long. Doesn’t matter if it’s rough sex, a quickie, gentle sex, whatever, he loves hearing you praise him. Anything from telling him how good he feels, how sexy he is, or how he has the body of a god, he wants to hear it. He loves how dirty you get with it sometimes and simply can’t get enough of it.

[hollyseb]

I DO

Mob! Bucky x Reader - Forced Marriage AU

Warnings: swearing, violence, misogyny?, sexual content (MINORS DNI)

3.2k words

Summary; Bucky, a member of the mob, and the daughter of his enemy find themselves entangled in a complex relationship.

No fucking way.

Your throat tightened. The reflection in the mirror portrayed a stranger—pale complexion, vacant eyes.

“You look beautiful,” Nat reassured you, placing her steady hands on your bare shoulders, but you’d never felt so appalled. She was trying to comfort you but fell on deaf ears.

Your gaze dropped to the dress. It fits you perfectly, especially with your hair trailing down your back.

You wanted to rip it all off.

“Nat”, your voice meek, tears threatening to fall.

"I'll be by your side through it all, and if that mystery man dares to step out of line, well, a broken nose wouldn't hurt," she attempted a smile, but it faltered. Your best friend gave your shoulders a final squeeze.

Today is your wedding day.

As you found out yesterday. Yesterday. You seethed, manicured hands clenching.

“How could this happen to me, Nat?”, you asked through gritted teeth, the reality of the situation setting in.

Nat's gaze softened, her eyes filled with a sadness you couldn't bear to meet. "We both know why," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, the truth of her words like a knife to your heart. Your father's illicit dealings had finally caught up with you, dragging you into a web of deceit and manipulation from which there seemed to be no escape.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could I be so naive?

And so, you became a pawn in your father’s game. An object to be bought, owned and sold off at will.

It was all a show of power. You cross me, and I’ll rob your daughter of the rest of her life. You were nothing more than collateral damage.

———————————

As Bucky adjusted his tie in the mirror, the reflection staring back at him was that of a man with a steely resolve, a predator poised to strike. His jaw clenched with determination, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity.

“One last drink before you’re hitched?” Steve smirked, pushing a whiskey into his best friend's hand.

Bucky sent him a sharp look. “Come on Steve, you act like I'm not the one calling the shots here”, the glint in his eyes portraying a confidence that bordered on arrogance.

In a swift motion, he downed the alcohol and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His throat burned. He lavished the feeling.

“Marrying a woman you’ve never even seen?” Steve's grin widened, his tone holding a hint of scepticism.

Bucky dragged a hand down his face. “All part of the game, my friend” he responded cryptically, a flicker of anticipation glimmering in his eyes.

“You never know, pal, she might be a knockout”, Steve teased, a veiled reassurance towards his friend.

”Yeah. Fat fucking chance, as long as Pierce knows I can take everything he holds dear, I’m a happy man”

With a nod of agreement, Steve raised his glass in a silent salute. "I'll drink to that," he said.

———————

Deep breaths.

You felt nauseous.

You stepped into the aisle, honing your vision on the figure standing by the altar. He had his back to you but, he was tall, broad and masculine.

Ripping your eyes from the man and planting them on your feet. Just make it down the aisle without tipping over.

Bucky turned to face you. Holy shit. His surprise was palpable. He wasn’t expecting this. You knocked the breath from his lungs. You looked beautiful. Your dress moulded perfectly to your body, skin glowing. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

You felt a cool hand press against the small of your back.

“Hey”, a deep voice whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

A response far too casual for the situation at hand.

His hand moved to your waist, guiding you to face him and look at him. Fuck him. You knew this was a stupid, stubborn attempt to maintain some form of control, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

That was until he placed a finger under your chin, his touch surprisingly gentle. Oh. He is gorgeous. Sculpted face, baby blue eyes, pink lips. His touch was far too gentle for someone so evil.

“H-hi”, you stammered, your voice portraying the nervousness you felt.

Bucky’s smirk only widened at your response, as if he found amusement in your discomfort. It was infuriating. He was drinking in your wide eyes and aloof expression. You were so innocent. He almost felt bad for inviting you into his world. Almost.

He wanted to devour you.

”Well…aren’t you a sweet little thing”, his finger tilted your head back as he unashamedly raked his eyes over your features, with an almost predatory hunger.

You forced a sweet smile, concealing the disgust you felt at his patronising comment, “get your fucking hands off of me”, you retorted sharply.

Bucky’s smirk faltered for a moment, a flicker of surprise crossing his features, before being replaced by amusement again. “Such a filthy mouth for a pretty girl… I’ll sort that out for you”, he replied, his grip on your chin tightening.

You snarled at him, resisting the urge to clock him in his cocky face.

It was almost humorous, the way the interaction looked like a loving husband whispering sweet nothings to his wife, when it couldn’t be further from the truth.

The vows went by in a blur, all words sounding muted and unreal, until the time came to kiss the man you met half an hour ago.

Bucky couldn’t look anymore gleeful, revelling in your discomfort.

“Come on honey, I promise I’m a fantastic kisser”, he taunted, arrogance in his smirk.

You opened your mouth for a retort, but his lips landed on yours before you could protest. You hated how he was so gentle, caressing your cheek while his tongue ran across your bottom lip.

Damn it, he is a fantastic kisser.

Pulling away, you forced yourself to compose, concealing the turmoil within. He was so gentle, as if he was afraid you’d break in two at his kiss. Bucky’s touch held a power over you. You despised it, but it was overwhelming.

The reception blurred into a whirlwind of congratulatory embraces and forced smiles. Every glance from Bucky sent shivers down your spine. He was everywhere. A hand on the small of your back, an arm draped across your waist.

As the night wore on, you found yourself cornered by Bucky, his presence suffocating. His whispered promises of a future together sounded more like threats, each word tightening the knot of discomfort in your stomach.

“Is it time for that broken nose yet?” Nat whispered into your ear as you snorted at her comment, your first genuine smile all day.

“I’m ready whenever you are”, you replied, before taking her into an embrace. Her presence was a lifeline in the chaos of this ceremony.

Even after your moment of solace with Nat, Bucky's presence loomed like a dark cloud. His eyes followed your every move, logging everybody you spoke to, as he watched with an adverse gaze.

Unable to bear his suffocating presence any longer, you slipped away from the crowd, seeking refuge in the quiet solitude of the garden.

The cool night air enveloped you, offering a brief respite from the whirlwind wedding. Sitting on the wooden bench, you closed your eyes, simply focusing on breathing, before being unsurprisingly interrupted.

With a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, Bucky leaned against the stone wall, the faint glow of a cigarette illuminating his features in the darkness.

"You shouldn't be out here alone," he said, his voice low and gravelly, tinged with a hint of his streetwise charm.

"Yeah? Well, I’m fine," you replied curtly, refusing to show any vulnerability in his presence.

Bucky's smirk widened, the glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Sure you are," he said, his tone teasing. "But just in case you need a hand getting rid of any unwanted guests, you know what to say."

“Nobody’s watching here, you know? You don’t need to keep up this facade”, you replied, more angrily than you’d expected.

Bucky’s expression darkened at your accusation, a flicker of hurt crossing his features. “Facade? Come on, darlin’ you know me better than that”

”Do I?”, your voice echoed, not ready to submit to him.

He took a step closer, his movements fluid and deliberate. "Yeah, you do," he replied, his tone edgier now, devoid of its earlier teasing edge. "You think I’m doing this all for me?"

You found yourself unable to make eye contact with the mobster, “I think this is a game… where I’m being used as a pawn”, you confessed, a sadness in your voice.

Bucky was taken aback by your raw vulnerability. He lifted your chin with his forefinger, as he did in the ceremony, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were a cocktail of remorse and sincerity.

“A game? I won’t lie, doll, I’ve done things that I’m not proud of”, he swallowed hard, grappling with the actions that had led to this moment, “but I wouldn’t drag you into this twisted world simply to be a pawn”.

You fought internally, unsure of what to believe.

Bucky stepped back slightly, his eyes raking over your features as his finger drew an arc over your jaw. "I know this ain't the ideal situation for either of us," he began, his voice softer now, tinged with a hint of regret. "But we're in this together now."

Your features softened and you let yourself relax into his gentle touch. The voice in your head stressing about how dangerous this man was began to quieten. You needed this comfort.

"I want you to know," Bucky continued, his words measured yet genuine, "that I ain't gonna let anyone hurt you. Not while I'm around."

"Thank you," you murmured, the weight of the day's events finally beginning to lift from your shoulders. "I appreciate that."

Bucky offered you a small, understanding smile before gesturing toward the door leading back to the reception hall. "Come on," he said gently, "let's get back inside.”

Bucky flicked his cigarette into the darkness, the ember glowing brightly before fading into nothingness.

As the night wore on, the exhaustion of the day's events began to weigh heavily on you.

“You ready to call it a night?” Bucky asked, sweeping a stray hair behind your ear.

His eyes were fixated on yours until you replied with a simple nod.

You began saying your farewells to the guests, making sure to hug Nat especially hard. You eyed Bucky as he seemed to be having an enthralling conversation with a man you recalled being introduced to as Steve. You made a mental note to ask him about his friend.

You let Bucky guide you into his mansion, down the large halls, to the bridal suite. Everything was gorgeous, sophisticated and modern.

You hadn’t let your mind trail to what your wedding night would bring, you found yourself wondering whether he’d even stay in the same wing as you.

As you and Bucky stepped into the dimly lit room, the air was hot with anticipation, charged with the unspoken tension between you.

As you turned to face him, ready to bid him goodnight and retreat to your separate quarters, Bucky's gaze met yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. There was a vulnerability in his eyes, a rawness that took you by surprise.

"Can I stay with you tonight?" His voice was low, almost hesitant, betraying the confident facade he often wore. There was a hint of uncertainty in his words, a vulnerability that made your heartache.

It was a bold move, really, you both knew it. For a request you were so sure you would’ve declined earlier in the day, you found yourself taken aback.

“Yes," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the pounding of your heart. "Yes, you can stay."

As the door clicked shut behind Bucky, you felt anticipation in the air. His gaze lingered on you, his eyes tracing the contours of your figure with a certain hunger.

“Let me take off that wedding dress," he murmured, his words laced with desire. His eyes bore into yours, daring you to resist him, daring you to deny the attraction that pulsed between you.

Your head was spinning, the way he bounced between sincerity and domination.

For a brief moment, you hesitated, the thought of shedding the symbol of your forced marriage felt like an admission of defeat, surrendering to the forces that had brought you to this moment.

The primal hunger in Bucky’s eyes convinced you, with a hesitant nod, you faced your back to him and pulled your hair over your shoulder.

Bucky’s fingers delicately worked the fastens on your dress, his gaze transfixed on your back. You felt yourself becoming conscious, truly realising for the first time that this man was going to see you at your most vulnerable.

Sensing your apprehension, the air shifted, “you’re doing great, sweetheart”, he murmured, “Tonight, it’s just you and me”.

You eased at his words, as the fabric pooled at your feet in a cascade of silk and lace.

With a tender smile, Bucky reached out, his hand brushing against your cheek with a feather-light touch. “God, you’re beautiful”, he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

His words warmed you from the inside out. There was something more than desire in his gaze. It ignited a fire in you that threatened to consume everything in its path.

In the dim light of the room, you could see the raw hunger in Bucky's eyes, the longing that burned like a fire deep within his soul. But beneath the hardened exterior, there was a vulnerability—a longing for connection, for intimacy.

You doubted he was some sort of blushing virgin, especially with the stunt he pulled at the altar, but it was hard to believe he looked at other women like this.

“W-will you… are you going to…”, you faltered, not quite knowing how to ask him the question.

”Going to what, doll?”

“You know… it’s an arranged marriage. Are you planning to…see other women?”, you ventured, your voice hesitant, uncertain of how to broach the topic.

Bucky's gaze softened as he sensed the gravity of your words, his expression shifting from one of intensity to one of attentiveness. He reached out, gently grasping your hand in his, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand.

“I understand why you might have doubts, especially given the circumstances," he began, his voice calm and reassuring. "But I want you to know that I take this marriage seriously. This isn’t a game to me. You’re my wife".

His words carried a weight of sincerity that eased some of the tension in your chest. "I won't deny that my past may have been... adventurous," he continued with a wry smile, "but when it comes to you, I'm all in. I won't be seeing other women. You have my word."

“O-okay”, a small smile playing on your lips.

“And just so we’re clear”, he added, a playful glint in his eye, “you’re not allowed to see other men either”.

You rolled your eyes at that, your smile widening.

Bucky's eyes softened as they landed on your lips, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his own. "You've got a beautiful smile, you know," he remarked, his tone unexpectedly sincere.

As you met his gaze once more, you couldn't help but notice the way his eyes sparkled with a warmth that mirrored your own.

“Thank you," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, feeling the electricity between you intensify with each passing moment. The hunger in his eyes mirrored your own.

With a boldness you didn't know you possessed, you reach out to him, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt as you draw him closer. The air crackles with tension as your lips meet in a searing kiss, passion and need colliding in a heady rush of sensation.

His hands pulled on your hips, desperate to get you impossibly closer. Your head was spinning.

Bucky gently walked you to the bed, falling onto the sheets when your calves knocked the frame. He ate up the gasp that escaped from your lips hungrily.

“Fuck. I want to devour you”, he murmured against your lips, before taking your bottom one between his teeth. You could only gasp in response as he rolled it.

Bucky’s hands grabbed your wrists, gently placing them above your head. A stark contrast between his gentleness and dominance. His lips trailed down the curve of your neck, nipping and tucking, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You arched against him, a soft “B-Bucky” escaping your lips.

Bucky released a guttural moan as you bucked your hips into the muscular thigh positioned between your legs.

”Easy, sweetheart”, he whispered, his voice husky with desire. “I don’t want to overwhelm you”.

Bucky's hands trembled slightly as he fought to restrain his desire, the urge to lose himself in the moment almost overwhelming. His breath came in ragged gasps as he tried to control the primal urges that threatened to consume him.

His hands, which had been so commanding just moments before, now moved with a feather-light touch.

"I need to slow down," he muttered, more to himself than to you, his voice strained with effort.

You placed a gentle hand on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your touch, “we can slow down, Bucky”, you whispered reassuringly, your eyes filled with concern.

Bucky's struggle was like a battle raging within him, the conflicting desires tearing at his very core. He was used to being in control, but with you, he felt a primal urge to let go, to surrender to the passion that threatened to consume him.

But he couldn't. Not yet. Not with you.

He looked into your eyes, his own filled with gratitude and longing. "Thank you," he said softly, his voice tinged with relief. "I just want to make sure I'm not pushing you too far, too fast."

He’d never cared for the women he’d taken to bed in the past. There was something about you, an innocence he wanted to preserve, but simultaneously fuck out of you, make it his own.

“I’m okay, I promise”, you reassured him.

“No…it’s me. I want to lose myself in you but… I won’t be able to control myself. I want to do this right”, he admitted.

You caressed his face with your hand, letting a silence fall over you and your husband. He traced circles on your bare skin with his fingertips.

Bucky's arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a warm embrace, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. Feeling the weight of the day finally catching up with you, you nestled into Bucky's embrace, allowing the rhythm of his steady breathing to lull you into a peaceful slumber.

Bucky drifted into a calm sleep, the calmest he’d had in months, until the shrill ring of his phone shattered the silence. Groaning, he fumbled for the source of the disturbance, his hand eventually finding the cold metal of his cell phone on the nightstand.

"Steve?" Bucky muttered, his voice thick with sleep as he answered the call, his mind struggling to shake off the fog of slumber.

"Yeah, it's me," Steve's urgent voice crackled through the line, cutting through Bucky's drowsiness like a knife. "We got a problem”.

Bucky sent a glance to your sleeping form, the sheets pooling around your waist, with your chest lifting rhythmically.

He ran a hand down his face and groaned, not wanting to leave you. “How bad is it?”, he asked, debating whether to throw the phone at the wall.

“Bad enough”, Steve replied grimly.

——————————

Taglist!

@casa-boiardi @winterslove1917 @writingpastmybedtime @thealyrs @kandis-mom @blackhawkfanatic @scott-loki-barnes @mrsevans90 @melsunshine

[cherryredstars]

helloo!! i have a request for subby miguel:

could you write a bratty sub miguel who the reader asks to top for the first time and he agrees because he’s not convinced that she can do it? so he keeps making all these snide remarks and tries super hard to maintain his composure while she’s slowly unraveling him and at the end he’s just like a broken whimpering mess for her 😍

anyways you’re one of my favorite blogs on here and i adore the way you write!! everytime i see your banners pop up i get so giddy lol i literally love your fics

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Penetrative Sex

A/N: Aw thank you, love!!!

Unedited

He's confused, a little bit delirious too.

Usually, you're so tired. You're naturally a sleepy person, needing a nap after doing a handful of tasks that aren't exactly complex to begin with. He suspects that's the reason why he's usually on top of you, plowing his cock into you while you just need to lay there and take it. But even then you whimper out your tiredness. Sniffing into his neck how the force of his thrusts and the position he's forcing you into are making your thighs hurt. Mewling out how it's too much after both of you orgasm the first time that night.

So when you bat your pretty eyes at him and ask for his permission to let you bounce on his dick, he can't help but laugh. It's not supposed to be an entirely mean laugh, but he can see the furrow of your brow as you pout at him. Of course he agrees, chuckling to himself knowing that after a few thrusts you'll get too tired to lift yourself off his fat cock, mewling for him to help you until he's got you laying flat on the bed and feeding your poor pussy the dick it so desperately wants. And you're starting to prove him right.

His hands rest behind his head, preventing him from helping you as he watches you. Your own hands are flat on his chest, your mouth open with whimpers as you lift yourself off and on his dick. He can hear the wet squelches of your cunt, groaning occasionally when you roll your hips. But the quick pace you had before is slowly dying down, barely pulling yourself off his dick before sinking back down. He smirks at you, slowly pulling his hands from behind his head with a chuckle.

"It's okay, mi vida." He begins, "I'll help you, poor baby."

But before he can plant his hands on your hips, you shift. You let out a low moan as you drag your hands further down his chest, planting them on the hard ridges of his abs. You fix your position, sitting straighter and spreading your legs wider around his thighs. Miguel opens his mouth, only to be cut off when you begin vigorously impaling yourself on his dick. Your pace is faster than when you started, and you mumble out small whimpers of 'please' every time you take him to the hilt. You're completely consumed in your own pleasure to realize that Miguel's eyes are rolling back and he's fisting the sheets. His hips are desperately meeting yours, his back arching as your puffy walls clench tight around his cock. The forceful slaps of skin do nothing to drown out his moans and whimpered curses.

His mind is getting foggier with each thrust, his cock twitching against your tight walls as a burning feeling forms in his stomach. It explodes right after yours, a high pitch keen leaving your mouth as your walls milk him. He grits out a curse as you continue bouncing on his cock despite your orgasm and his, begging him for more and more. You don't seem even remotely tired or show any signs of stopping.

He's getting a little scared that you'll fuck him into oblivion.

[thicctails]

I C R A V E more gbc au stuff: particularly with Bill: were the twins aware of Bill before gravity falls? what do they tell the twins about bill once they get there? how does bill and his parents even go about reconnecting?? I want to know more about the direct aftermath of the reunion. It's not hard to piece together Bill and Fords relationship from the journals: did they read into it the wrong direction or smth? Like Bill fucking traumatized Ford: Euclid and Scalene's estranged long lost son fucking severly traumatized and manipulated a realtive of their adoptive kids: there's gotta be more complex feelings there? Does Bill blame them for his medical trauma? do Scalene and Euclid regret that? did they have differing opinions on it back when? also like, now Bill is legit insane: what with him having been percieved insane or a ticking time bomb of insanity before how do they feel about that? do they have differeing opinions?????

FNSKJDFNSDKJ DSI C R A V E MORE FERERJSNJKFDNFKE

PLEASE FEED MEEEEE

Ask and ye shall r e c e i v e

Both Scalene and Euclid were under the impression that Bill died when Euclidea inevitably collapsed in on itself. They told Dipper and Mabel that they had a child, but never went into much detail, as it hurt too much to talk about.

(You can imagine how fucking gutted they were when they saw images of him all around the Shack. Journal 3 was just a big fat gob of salt in their open wounds)

Reconnecting for them is like a healing an infected wound: you have to cut out the rot, grit your teeth for the burn of cleaning it out, work to keep the infection away, and accept the fact that there will be a scar.

Bill is so fundamentally broken and mentally unwell that not even the Axolotl can really fix him. The best he can do is help Bill get to a point where he can begin again in a different form. But getting to that point is the real trouble. It's rotten work, a path laden with pain and suffering and hurt feelings, but it's the only option worth fighting for.

Scalene and Euclid feel immense guilt for the mistakes they made raising Bill. They allowed themselves to be pressured into trying to make their gifted son normal, and everyone they ever loved and then some ended up paying the price. Bill may have started the fire, but their misguided good intentions handed him the match.

Bill himself is a whirlwind of emotions. He is unexplainably relieved that his parents are alive, but that also means that he can no longer possess a false bravado and pretend he intentionally slaughtered his entire dimension. His past is red and blue and in his face, and the voices have only gotten louder since he saw his mother's heartbroken face. Not only that, but they have, in his eye, replaced him with two of the people destined to destroy him! They look at Shooting Star and Pinetree with all the fondness they used to look at him with, and it makes his insides burn.

They also are constantly setting off each other's triggers, like some kind of sick oroborus of trauma. Bill's powers often manifest as pyrokinesis, which isn't great when your parents are still living with the horrific injuries caused by said fire. On the other side of the coin, Euclid has been soothing the twins with gentle TV static since they were little, since his preferred method of manifestation is screen-based technology, (whereas Scalene prefers music and books) which has caused Bill to spiral into a violent panic attack more than once.

As for Ford... well, neither Cipher parent is fond of him, as i've stated, but while they don't know the entire story of how his and Bill's time together was, they know enough to know that it ended in violence and misery, and they are not so heartless that they do not feel pity for the man and disgust towards their son's actions. They make it very clear to their eldest, when they can stand to speak to each other, that he is to never possess another member of the Pines family.

He only breaks that promise once, though it was for a good reason. Gideon needed a good beat down, and Pine Tree was too hurt to make that jump without help.

[sensei-venus]

Jaime Reyes x Chubby!Reader: Thighs for Days~

(Unedited) (Thigh Fucking) ( @gemini-sensei )

Jaime doesn't really knows what takes over him as he kneels behind Reader. His calves burn a little as he sits on his hunches over her.

His breathing gets heavy as he pushes himself over her. Their naked skin rubs together so deliciously, it has him whimpering. He can't help but be loud as the soft skin of her back rubs up against her chest. Eyes rolling at the feeling of her body against his.

Just an hour ago they were having dinner with his family. Laughing and talking about their week at work and school. They joked about what they should do that weekend.

Then thirsty minutes later he was making out with Reader up against the brick wall outside her apartment. She did her best to not make a sound as they made out so publicly. The street lights were just starting to come on in the complex parking lot.

She whinned into his mouth as he ran a hand over her thick thigh. His fingers digging into the fabric that left him unable to grab at the fat of her juicy legs. His dick screamed to be let out at that point. It rubbed at her leg as he almost humped her in the door way.

Now he was trying his best not to busy right then and there.

He wondered what her fat ass would look like covred with a hot load of his cum. He wonders what it would look like in the barely lit bedroom. They were both to ocupided with each other to flip more then Reader’s bathroom light on. It was an accident, his hand reached for the bedroom light but accidentally caught the bathroom switch when reaching out. Now only a small stream of light from the cracked door lit her room.

“Let me use your thighs! Please amar please.”

His voice was strained as he tried his best not to rut against her naked ass. The thickness of it against his throbbing cock only spared him on. Urging him to keep going and milk out a nice orgasm. One he needed so badly at that very moment. That's all his poor brain could think about.

“Fuck Jamie yes!! Fuck my thighs baby!” Reader moaned into her pillow at the feeling of his dick against her. Her thighs squeeze together as she shakes her hips at him. Her ass drawing up and back to urge him on. Trying to get him to push into her soft skin. Her eyes roll back as she feels him squeeze himself tighter to her. Sucking in a sharp breath he moves against her once again.

He jerks himself in his hand before lining his dick up with her tight thighs. Leaving him no real opening she pushes into the tight crook of her thighs. He moans as he pushes through the tight little hole between her thighs. The lack of a thigh gap does amazing things to his thick cock. His hands grip at her rolls, squeezing her fat sides. She shivers at the feeling if being pushed down into her own mattress.

He's quick to pick up a fast and heavy pace. Thrusting as fast as he can between her thighs. His balls slap loudly in the silent room and echo around them. Soon enough the whole room is full of their sounds. Moans and groans fill the atmosphere of the room and send shock waves through both of them. Reader can't hold back her own sounds when her boyfriend reaches around under her. Starting to play with her folds and pinching at her clit.

Using his own wetness and his precum he made little circles. Tiny figure eights that made her start to see stars behind her eyelids. Her lids fluttered as she shoved her face into the pillows below her. It was almost as if he knew every trick in the book to make her explode.

“Oh amar your so good for me. Letting me use those pretty thighs. Letting me get off to such a simple but so pretty part of your body.” his voice was horse in her ear. Hot breath fanning over her earlobe. She squealed, trying to bite her lip to keep quiet.

Jaime’s pace didn't let up as he worked harder to get himself off. The sticky sound of his cum lubing up Reader's thighs filled his head. It was nasty and raw. So gross and lewd, he had only dreamed of making such obscure notices with his chubby little girlfriend before all this. Being in this moment was a whole new thing. He no longer had to imagine it as it was right there in front of him.

Fat little ass high in the air, his hot dick shoved between fatty thighs covered in his own cum. Warm drooling pussy leaking all over him with every little move he made.

He was in heaven.

Between his girls thighs with his dick out.

Sadly it was over faster then he wanted it to be. He just couldn't take the fact that it was all so very real.

With just a few more heavy thrusts he had no other option but to let go. His eyes teared with pleasure as his hips started to stall. Heavy balls clenched and drew up with two last hard thrusts. With only a split second to think he quickly popped out from between her thighs. Rubbing his cum covered dick over her ass cheeks. Moments later he groans as he busts.

Thick cum shoots out in thick ropes along his girlfriend's ass and back. It pools on her ass and spills down her ass crack. It starts to drip down to her back and leaves a watery trail. A second later he speeds up his fingers in hopes of finding some kind of ground. His whole body shaking as his orgasm runs though his veins.

His fingers speed up and soon Reader is screaming out. Her hips jerking and her legs shaking. He feels her thighs lock before he feels her juices coating his fingers. He brings her though the harsh aftershock. Her cum squirts out along his thin fingers. He stops messing with her clit and plays with her folds.

Their sopping wet, he knows she's put a wet spot in the sheets below them.

He smirks at the scene below him.



[ikkosu]

imagine that some bots, when studying human anatomy, are horrified or find it intriguing because we have baby teeth that fall out and are then replaced with stronger ones. or hell, we have two throats for eating and breathing, so people shouldn't talk while eating, as food can really get into the wrong throat due to the fact that it opens. the length of our small intestine is 6 meters, as well as our stomach produces acid, and if it were not for a special mucus, it would destroy itself. the strongest human muscle is the tongue (absolutely not an idea for something obscene and hot *winks hard*).

YESS I like the idea that despite humans are more demure in strength we're such a complex organism to the point it's baffling

it's even more funny when bots would handle their human like fragile glass, following every medical instruction to a t on what their human should and not do. Them having a breakdown while you're laughing and eating, shoving every big FAT large bite of food down your throat and they're just clutching their helms anticipating the next moment you'll choke/drop dead.

The notion of too much is had and too little is also bad is their constant torment. Too much oxygen is bad???? Too much food is bad??? What do you mean you can't drink too much water???

Their expressions just downright flabbergasted knowing your stomach acid would probably burn a hole through their plating. because of that a rumos are now spreading around that humans could spit acid as a defense mechanism. The tongue though 👀 I think most bots wouldn't be so wary towards such an interesting experience.

[vapelomundo]

LIV PURE (🛑BIG WARNING!🛑) LivPure Review Reviews - Liv Pure Weight Loss ...

[nutriwellnesshq]

Are you struggling to lose weight, no matter how much you diet or exercise?

[yeyinde]

‼️imagine riding price while he’s smoking a cigar‼️ that just popped inside my head and now i’m horny

⇾warnings: unfettered filth, gratuitous smut; gendered!female reader, female anatomy; very slight possessive!Price; very heavy dom!Price; choking?? kinda???

⇾notes: damn, op. me, too. also, has anyone seen bodies bodies bodies? you know that moment when Pete Davidson says I just look like I fuck? that's this. that's Price.

With his head tilted back on the bed, lit cigar dangling from between his teeth, he looks almost attainable in the gloam. Touchable. Like a man you reach out, and have. It's so different from his usual countenance that it jars something inside of you, pricking that soft, sensitive place between your thundering heart and ribs.

Shadows cut under his eyes, his nose, the jut of his lip, illuminated only by the flushed, yellow light of the lamp beside the bed. 

Cot, really. Barely enough space in it to fit a single person, much less two. How he manages to squeeze inside the tiny slip of a mattress makes you question everything you know about physics and spatial mathematics.

Though—

"That's it, mm," he rasps, words slurred and muffled around the cigar in his mouth. His hands are firebrands on your breasts, where they settle hot and firm, rough palm grazing your hard nipples. "Just like that, dove. Take me in—all of it, yeah? Want to feel your cunt around all of me."

—there really isn't any room in your head for complex queries when you're sat on your captain's cock, pussy pulsing around him all the way to the root. 

He knocks all logic from your head with a soft flex of his hips, cockhead nudging something inside of you that has you reeling through samsara. 

You can't stop the whine from spilling out—high-pitched and breathless—when he shifts like that, grinding his fat cock against your gummy walls. 

"C—captain—," you mewl, nails digging into the coarse auburn covering his chest. Your hips gyrate over his groin, seeking more of that delicious stretch, that blistering press of him splitting you apart. 

"Shush, shush," he coos, his hand falling away from your swaying chest to wrap around the body of the cigar. The tip burns red; the heavy scent of sex and tobacco permeate the tense atmosphere between you.

His other hand stays, and slides down until your nipple is caught between his thumb and forefinger. A pinch of his fingers sends a ripple of pleasure-pain shuddering down to your core. You keen at the sting, the bliss.

"Gotta be quiet, love. Want them to come in, and see you like this? Bouncin' on your captain's cock like you're desperate for it? And you are, aren't you? So fuckin' greedy for it."

"Fuck, sir—"

His groan is filthy around the butt of the cigar when your cunt flutters at the notion. The idea of being watched while your aching cunt takes him to the base.

"What a slut you are," he teases, slurred and gruff, words thinning out around a pull of smoke. "Want them to see how pretty you look on top of me, eh?"

He bites down on the end of the cigar, his hand falling away to reach behind you. Your mouth opens—pleas, apologies on your tongue; but it's stifled by a loud whine when the flat of his palm slaps across the meat of your ass. The sharp crack of his hand hitting you sends a gyre of pleasure roiling through your core.

Your belly flutters; molten heat spumes at the sting. It's too much, it hurts, and—

You want more.

"Please—;" the word is choked, bitten off when he slides his hand up, fingers dancing between each knob of your spine. The other tugs on your nipple until your back arches for him.

"Come on, pretty thing." He purrs, eyes lidded and burning. A veil of smoke congeals in the air between you when he breathes out. "Like I'd let anyone see you like this. This—;" his teeth dig into the cigar, hips canting up into your pussy. "—is all mine, love."

You don't know how he expects you to last with his thumb brushing over your nipple, his cock battering the plug of your womb with each fervid grind of your hips. Each soft bounce sends you spiralling closer and closer to the edge, to that white-hot haze of euphoria that splits your head down the centre until all you can feel is the swell of his cock in your cunt; his full, heavy balls slapping against your ass each time you sit fully on him, taking him to the base where he's the thickest, where he throbs like a heartbeat. It's too much, too much—

He hums low in his chest. The noise ripples through your palms, desperately scrambling for purchase on his slick, broad chest. It should have been a warning, but you're too far gone, too blissed from the way his liquid sapphire gaze threatens to flay you alive; the wide arsenic white of his eyes boring into you, watching you fall apart at the seams with each plunge of him inside of your pussy. 

"Fuck—oh, fuck—captain—I'm… I'm gonna cum—"

Heat sears into your throat. Your tremulous words are cut in the middle when his hand slides up, palm pressed flat against your jugular. His thumb strokes your jaw gently, a dizzying contrast to the unyielding, solid grip he has on your neck. His thick, tobacco-stained fingers wrap taut around the delicate, fragile, curve of your throat, nearly spanning the entirety of it. If he wanted to, you think, a touch delirious, hysterical: he might be able to touch his index and thumb at the base of your skull.

Your inhale is shaky; a quivering gasp that edges on instability. You feel yourself being pulled deeper and deeper into those pits that sear into you.

A burning ache throbs inside of your belly; a coil pulling tighter and tighter with each press of your groins, his cock filling you deeper than you'd thought possible, the unruly auburn hair around the base of his cock grazing your clit. Your core tenses. Cunt spasming around him when he squeezes his hand, the air choked from your esophagus. 

"Look at you," he drawls, nearly slurring the words around the end of his cigar. He pulls in another mouthful of smoke, eyes gleaming aquamarine in the dim light. "Such a pretty fuckin' sight you make, don't you, love."

All you can see is liquid blue. A spark of ochre from the end of his cigar. Your vision fades, blurring around the edges. He's not choking you, just holding steady, firm, but it's everything: his voice, his touch, that stupid cigar wrapped around those lips—

"C—captain—"

"Go on, then." He settles back into the pillow, hand still wrapped around your throat. His eyes bore into yours; a whirlpool cuts through the sea—dark and dizzying. "I want this pretty little cunt to cum around my cock, mm." He rumbles. His hand flexes, shifts, until his thumb is pressed to the seam of your lips. His eyes darken. "And then when you're finished, I want you on your hands and knees. I'm gonna fill you up, nice and proper, yeah?"

All you can do is whimper his name, and try not to slip inside those frothing waters that threaten to drag you under. A swirling vortex of want; pleasure. You burn under his heavy gaze. Feel the heat of his cigar scorching your skin. 

“Oh,” he adds, blowing out a plume of white against your skin when you shudder on top of him, nails biting into his skin. Smoke rings curl around his words. His voice is hushed. Quiet. The lilt an unbreakable command. “Better not make me drop my cigar, love. Or there will be trouble.”

[erwinsmithsmissingleftarm]

Men fucking tall & insecure girl

Oh boy, it was love at first sight as soon as you crossed his path. Who said that guys only like smaller girls? Ridiculous. Even if you are 5''10 or taller, your man still treats you like a little princess, his queen.

When you are about to have your first time with him, you can't help but feel insecure about your body. Are you too tall? Too buff? Too skinny? Not enough curves? Too much curves? Luckily, he doesn't not care about it because he simply loves your body the way it is. Forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror while he is drilling into you, he says dirty praises.

"Look at that pretty slut..."

"All good for me, right?"

"You are so tight, princess."

"Spread those legs wider please, I need to fuck that pussy right now."

Tears of pleasure roll down your cheeks as his fat dick stretches your pussy out. His hands support your long shaky legs, making you feel so tiny in his touch. You can't think straight, all your complexes and worries melting away like snow under a burning sun. Your lips meet in a sloppy kiss, his thrusts quicken until you both cum.

"Let's make kids so they grow up tall and beautiful like their mama..."

ERWIN, Jean, BERHTOLDT, Levi, NANAMI, Geto, more

[helenofsparta2]

One thing I’ll never be able to forgive Game of Thrones, especially the later seasons, is the way they warped the conception of so many characters, and completely dumped down their complexity.

Jon Snow is not my favourite character because he is this perfect, always noble hero, who is a great, badass swordfighter.

He is my favourite character because, while he is more morally righteous than a lot of other characters, he can be bitter, and sarcastic and ruthless. Because he used to be arrogant and thought of himself as better than his brothers at the nights watch because of his upbringing but learned to overcome his prejudices again and again and again, first towards the men at the watch, then later towards the wildlings. Because he has always been jealous of Rob and secretly dreamed of being lord of Winterfell, but still refuses Stannis’ offer to get legitimized because of his oaths and because he defends Sansa’s and Arya’s claims. Because he has a strong inner conflict between his intense, often romanticized, desire to someday have a wife and children, he could name after Robb, and his position as a bastard and as Lord Commander of the Night’s watch. Because he tries so hard to be a son Ned Stark would be proud of and tries to be as honorable as he has always been taught, but would still drop his oaths to save his family any day.

Because he makes mistakes as Lord Commander, which cost him his life in the end, but is one of the only characters who sees the big picture and whose efforts will be vital in defeating the Others. Because he is hunted by the ghosts of teh dead. Because he is a Warg, and deeply involved in the magical side of a song of ice and fire, but most of the time acts as pragmatic as possible. Because he is able to win the respect of Stannis, of Aemon, of Lord Commander Mormont, of many brothers of the night’s watch, in spite of his parentage. Because in a world, where bastards are mostly seen as deceitful and dangerous, and their existence has often caused rebellions and wars, especially within the Targaryen dynasty, he loves his family more than anything and is seen as a symbol of safety and home by Arya, Sansa and Bran. Because while Catelyn Stark feared he would someday endanger her children’s birth rights, he is the one, that defends it the most.

Daenerys Targaryen is not one of my favourite characters because she is a Targaryen queen who has dragons and burns slavers, but because she is a young girl who has gone through immense suffering, but still tries desperately to be a good queen.

She makes mistakes, she can be hypocritical and ruthless, she lacks wisdom and experience. She is the mother of dragons, and has close to no idea how to raise and train them. She is disillusioned about Viserys and her father, and is the antithesis to the entire Targaryen dynasty, but still clings to every new piece of information about her brother Rhaegar. She desires to have a home and a family, and wants power not for the sake of power, but because she wants the ability to make the lives of other people better and protect those who can not protect themselves. She wants her kingdom to be beautiful, full of fat men, and pretty maids and laughing children. She is one of the most powerful characters in the books, the one who brought dragons back, and will break the system, but often does not know how to do that and sometimes does not know how to deal with the consequences of her actions. She listens to the smallfolk and nobility alike. She is barely 16 years old in a dance with dragons but acts as an older sister figure to Missandei and a mother figure to her people.

Arya Stark is not one of my favourite characters because she is a cold assassin, and “not like other girls”, but because Arya “underfoot” gets along with soldiers and smallfolk alike and finds friends wherever she goes.

Because she has the wildness of the north in her, and is tomboyish, but doesn’t look down on feminine women and girls. She uses her list as a coping mechanism after seeing her father die. She tries to become this strong assassin, but clings to the memories of her family, especially Jon, and her home. She is (probably) the second strongest Warg in the Stark family. She thirsts for revenge, and doesn’t hesitate to kill, but still has a strong sense of justice, and doesn’t lose her ability to socialize.

I could go on and on and on. I could talk about how Cersei is no cold, calculating player of the game, but a delusional, unpredictable, but very entertaining narcissist, or how Tyrion is becoming a revenge-obsessed, bitter villain. I could talk about Sansa, or the entirety of Dorne or about Stannis Baratheon, or so amny other characters.

George R. R. Martin has crafted so many complex, and fascinating characters in this rich wolrd and narrative, and their treatment in the later seasons of the Tv-show adaptation really make my soul bleed.

[foursaints]

I NEED YOUR PETER CHARACTER ESSAY ANALYSIS ASAP.

my peter pettigrew exists mostly in terms of gender transgression 🐀. i feel that the specific kind of envy he holds for james — the mingled love & admiration, the longing, the wistful psychosexualism of it— it’s the kind of jealousy that young girls feel towards other girls.

peter is more complex in his longing than someone like severus! he’s more cynical about it! because peter doesn’t even necessarily want to BE james anymore, he’s known for a very long time that it’s impossible, all he wants is to subsume him. it’s like— 19th century sapphic vampire romance levels of psychosexual. Carmilla levels.

because the tragedy of it is that he loves james! not even romantically: peter KNOWS him, better and longer than anyone else. and the insane duality of that love is slowly driving him mad.

peter might be the most romantic character in canon to me. he’s the only marauder that knows they’re all doomed! he gave up the idea he could ever be normal about james a long time ago, but he also can’t not be around him, because he loves him. so he’s resigned to giving his entire life away - just wants to be near him, let it consume him, let it ruin them both! let them burn up with it!

it’s shakespearean in the scope of it. it’s the slow horror of this psychosexual envy overtaking him, extinguishing all that he cares about. not wanting to hurt someone and being unable to let them go.

and i think he’s pretty. these are thin actors and my peter is fat but i picture his facial structure all mousy & angelic like these two: