#griffith fanfic
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angelltheninth · 5 days ago
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Could Griffith make you submit?
Anon... there is not a single part of me that would submit to that man. But you did inspire me to write this so thank you.
Pairing: Griffith x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, hate sex, rough sex, biting, hair-pulling, fight for dominance, insults, banter
Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions
A/N: He has the most pullable hair. Plus I love characters with white hair, usually. He is a very rare exception, but still looks pretty.
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Whoever said that the line between love and hate is thin they were correct. On some days you got along with him just fine, on other days it was a knife fight, sword fight, fist fight, but it always ended the same way, with the two of you tangled up in bed together.
"Ouch! How many times do I have to tell you-?!" You pulled him away from your neck, saw him grinning down at the new bite mark he made, "No. Biting." You warned but he smiled wider.
"You can say it all you want. You know I won't listen." He never listened to anyone but himself. Especially when he set his mind on something. It's what made him so infuriating to deal with most of the time. Griffith chuckled as you glared at him. "I'd much rather listen to this."
He pushes his cock deep inside of you, his balls smacking against your ass. As you gasp from the way your pussy is being stretched he leans back down to bite the other side of your neck.
"Fucker." You pull him back again and scratch your hands against his scalp.
"Bitch." He retorts back with a cocky grin, his hips picking up the pace, "You think you can insult me and get away with it?"
Now it's your turn to grin, "I know I can. I'm the only one who can. Because you love this too. You love fucking me. Manwhore."
"Cockslut."
"In your dreams." You wrap your legs around him and lip him into his back, your hands grabbing his wrists and pinning him down. If there's one thing he absolutely hates that's you being on top.
"And your nightmares." Griffith met your hips in a rough sync, his hands digging into your thighs and keeping you against him. "You talk so much, you say you hate me, you fight me at every turn and yet... Here. You. Are." He grunted and moved his cock in and out. "Pussy drooling on my cock. If you hate me so much you should get off." As if he would let you go anywhere before he's satisfied.
You leaned down and cradled his face in your hands, "Let you off so easily? I don't think so." Before he could talk back yet again you pushed your fingers into his mouth. Griffith eyes widened for a moment before he bit them, not hard enough to make you pull back but enough to leave more teeth marks. "We're not done yet Griffith, not yet. Not until you come into my pussy like I know you want to."
Griffith bit down harder, growling curses at you as he pushed you down against him, his cock throbbing as you moaned on top if him.
"Cocky bitch." With both hands he smacked your ass, making your body jolt on top of him, "If you want my cum so badly then stay right here until it's all in you. I'm not letting you off my cock until you can't do anything but moan my name." That wasn't an empty threat, you knew, but you also knew he was gonna have to work to make it happen.
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gyodragon · 22 days ago
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Happy New Year, all! I participated in the Clangmas 2024 gift exchange and am super pleased to reveal the result: Nearly 12k words of canon-divergent Griffith angst. The scope of this story spans 7 years after Griffith kills Guts outside the walls of Wyndham. Thank you, toxic, for an excellent prompt! I hope you enjoy the fic and its companion art piece. This format may be what I turn to for Iron Hawk in the future. Prey Regretted (M, 11,600 words) Read on AO3
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eemcintyre · 2 months ago
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Reunion (Terry Silver)
TW- just a general warning for sex-ish things, lowkey body worship; nothing crazy kinky like some of my other content. Very tender and intimate vibes and yeah I got emotional writing it
Summary- You and Terry spend a night together in the bath after a long time apart.
Did I manage to publish the first post-CK Part 2 Terry Silver bathtub fic?? I may make some minor changes to this in the future, but I hope y'all enjoy <3
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Y/N sunk into the foamy water and onto Terry’s lap, settling into his arms. The air around them was heavy with the steam of the bath, the sweet scent of soap and the lit candles dotted around the perimeter of the room, and the smoke smoldering from Terry’s cigar, resting in a nearby ashtray.
After a very stressful and busy few weeks, during which they’d seen a lot less of each other than usual, this was an attempt to make up for it. Both of their schedules had been cleared, starting with the current Friday evening, and extending through the weekend.
It was almost overwhelming to be in his arms again, and it was a relief for him to be able to hold her. For a while, neither one of them said anything, apart from Terry checking with Y/N that the water wasn’t too hot. Intermittently sipping from the drinks Terry had ordered for them, they merely studied each other, as if getting reacquainted, mutually entranced by the way the dim and flickering lighting of the room bounced off the exposed surfaces of the water and reflected patterns on their skin.
Y/N reached out a hand to cradle the side of Terry’s face, and their eyes met as he placed his own hand over hers, expression stoic, but melting into her gentle touch. She toyed almost shyly with the charm at the end of his chain necklace, ghosting her fingertips over his firm chest and the shimmery dusting of white hair.
Most of the time, Terry was not opposed to (and actively encouraged) drawing out the tension and elaborate foreplay, but tonight he needed Y/N as close as he could get her and now. Terry was almost harsh as he took the sides of her face in both his hands, pulling her to him in a passionate kiss. He dove hungrily into her mouth with his tongue, removing his grip on her face to pull her flush against him.
“I go crazy when you’re not around, sweet girl,” he murmured against her ear. As she gasped for air, he realized he’d hardly let her breathe between kisses.
“Did you miss me?” he asked, figuring he’d let her catch her breath while he laved kisses and bites down her neck and collarbone- although it merely took her breath away in a different manner. He froze, awaiting her reply. He needed to hear her say it. “Tell me that you missed me.”
She grinned sweetly, giggling in bemusement. “How couldn’t I, you fool?”
Anyone else spoke like that to him and they would catch hands- knowing this, she only abused the power and teased him occasionally. But, in this particular instance, she could see that this was no teasing matter and that his hunger for her to fulfill his request remained unabated.
She pressed her lips to his gently. “I missed you.”
She kissed one side of his face- “I missed you,” and then the other. “I missed you.”
She kissed the tip of his chin. “I missed you.”
She stretched to brush his forehead with her lips. “I missed you.”
No one had ever treated Terry so softly before- the sensation was so foreign and intense that it was almost painful, churning in the pit of his stomach, mixed with the alternately familiar pulse of desire.
The thoughtful silence was interrupted by the turning of the bathroom doorknob as one of the home’s many employees stepped in. “Mr. Silver, you just got a call about…”
Y/N froze, letting out a surprised cry, even while being halfway concealed under the water with her back to the doorway. Normally, Terry would find this sort of modesty amusing, and he certainly didn’t care whether he was seen in such a state, but for her comfort, he’d made it a rule among the staff to never enter the bathroom or bedroom when he and Y/N were spending time together. Terry threw an arm around her, pressing her to him protectively.
“What the hell are you doing in here? I’ve told you, absolutely no interruptions when she and I are in here together. Get the fuck out, now,” he bellowed, and after a few more sputtered words, the man stumbled over the threshold and closed the door, his rushed footsteps disappearing down the hall.
“That motherfucker’s seen his last day working in this house…” Terry growled as Y/N finally relaxed her shoulders, peeling herself far enough off of him to face him.
“Baby, now don’t do that…” She grabbed the bottle of soap from the side of the bath, spreading some on her hands and rubbing his shoulders soothingly.
After a minute or so of fuming, downing the rest of his drink as he kneaded her hip with his free hand, Terry finally relented, giving into her touch. Though he was still aching to take her fast and rough, curiosity got the better of him and he watched with reverent, rapt fascination as Y/N spread the soap across his shoulders and then his arms, before smoothing it across his chest and delving her fingers under the water to reach his stomach.
She finished the ritual by scooping handfuls of water over his soapy skin, acting completely oblivious to the way his cock had started to prod against her center- apart from the blush that tinted her cheeks. Eager to return the favor, Terry turned her so that he could caress the expanse of her back, tracing the path of her freckles. He coaxed her to lay back against him and began to brush his fingers over her nipples, pinching them just hard enough to draw a whimper from her lips before taking her breasts fully into his hands and kneading them.
One at a time, he extended her arms above her head, dragging his touch up the side of her body from her waist to her wrist as he did so. The gesture left her shaking and panting in his grip, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, maneuvering her forward in his lap again and resourcefully using his empty drink glass to pour water over her hair.
“You know, it’s the fucking tragedy of my life that I found you so late,” he murmured, lathering and then rinsing the shampoo from her hair, and she was grateful that he couldn’t see her eyes glisten. She would likely spend most of her life without him, too. But she also had the rest of her life to contemplate that, and the present moment demanded her attention, lest she regret it forever.
Feeling daring, she reached up to gently tug the ponytail holder from the back of Terry’s head. Though his posture tensed and his jaw stiffened, to her surprise, he did not intervene. He liked to be the one doing the touching; he typically didn’t like to be touched- especially to have his hair messed with. But this had started as an evening of returning favors.
She dampened his silver curls, threading her fingers through them, until the tenderness of the situation finally became too much for him to stand. He lunged at her, pinning her to the side of the tub and caging her in with an arm on either side of her.
“We’d better start making up for lost time.”
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chansao · 2 months ago
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beautiful things
• capa para futura mega doação
• em cãs de inspiração, credite
Uma capa que espero passar sobre uma relação tóxica e dependência emocional . baseada nessa musica aqui embaixo
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thevanillerose · 3 months ago
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CHANGED | GRIFFITH x READER | BERSERK
~ WRITING COMMISSIONS ~ ~ PATREON ~ ~ KO-FI ~ ~ NOVELS ~
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything except my own writing. All properties belong to their respective creators.
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He wasn't the one you remembered.
Griffith had betrayed you. Had betrayed Guts. He had betrayed everyone who had once been an ally to him. To think that he could cast you all aside so easily was...
Well...it hurt. Deeper than any knife could.
You didn't want to admit that he caused you pain, but that was just the way things were. At the end of the day, any human's soul was as fragile as the next, and for you to be so affected by his abandonment of what you thought he would always stay loyal to...was that not natural?
Guts tried to speak to you and comfort you. Casca did the same, but your appetite had dwindled and you would spend much of your time sitting on the ledge, taking up a window in whatever accommodation you were housed in at the time, staring at the moon and thinking about that fateful day that he had betrayed you.
You resented all that he had done, but there was no way of reprimanding him. You didn't even know if you would ever see him again.
Once he was gone, that seemed to be the end of it.
Until...
You were on your way back to the camp that had been set up. The deep, thick forest was barely punctuated by the light of the sunset, so it felt as if it were already the depths of night. At first you felt no fear, but the simple sound of a twig snapping nearby caused your nerves to turn taut.
Glancing around over your armored shoulder, you noticed that there was some kind of shadow shifting between the trees, not so distantly behind you.  
Your hand went to the hilt of your sword. There was a cold sweat growing on the back of your neck. The night hadn't quite arrived yet but you already felt so chilled. Somehow you could already predict who it was before he showed himself...and it still alarmed you anyway.
“...Griffith...”
He emerged from between the trees, softly, practically gliding into view. His body was almost entirely covered in sheets of metal, curved and shaped to fit his slender figure. This included his head, which was covered with a helmet, besides the sharp eyes that stared out at you from within.
At first he didn't say anything. Something about his presence though...it seemed utterly different. How you could tell as much, you weren't quite sure.
There was just an unsettling vibe to it all, and your hand didn't let up on holding that sword of yours. Even if he had once been a companion, he was now an enemy, right? You'd strike out if you had to.
Moonlight came almost as quickly as the sun retreated, and ripples of it traversed down through the dancing leaves to grace his tall figure. Not a word had been spoken yet, and so you decided to try and pursue some sort of conversation. Even just a simple answer would do so much to ease the pain and confusion that he had ultimately caused you to feel.
“...Why did you leave us? Why did you turn against us?”
No reply.
It was irritating. This was not the reunion you would have ever wanted. At the very least, it would be better if you could see his face, no?
While still cautious, you stepped forward, allowing the blade to slide back into the confines of its sheath again, choosing instead to reach out with your hands and clutch the helmet around his head.
Only then did he act at all. His own fingers shot up and curled around your wrists, tugging, urging you not to do it.
But you had to see him.
Were you afraid? Perhaps. You didn't know what you would see. You didn't know if you'd even see anything you recognized. It felt like enough time had passed that he might no longer be recognizable...
However, there was no use in denying the truth. It was better to face it while you finally had the chance to do so.
With one swift, defiant motion, you tugged the helmet off his head and cast it aside against the grass by your feet. Another sharper breeze whistled by and caused his pure white hair to flutter away from his face. Lavender eyes gazed down at you.
They had always been calm. But now they seemed too hollow. His expression was so placid he looked less like a living being, and more like a soulless porcelain doll. His lips may have carried the color of blood, but you really wondered if there was even an ounce of it still flowing through him.
No warmth. No life. He stood and breathed and blinked, but he didn't seem to even be so sentient anymore.
It was that gaze, wasn't it?
He was looking right through you.
“...Why did you come and see me...if you were just going to be like this?” you questioned sorrowfully, trying not to weep as your hands clasped his cheeks tentatively instead. Perhaps some small part of you wanted to pull his head from his shoulders too...but no...you simply touched him with grace, reluctance, and worry.
Sadness.
Why deny it? Seeing him like this...you couldn't help but feel it.
“Why do this to me? It's like torture...”
Your hands began to slip away, and you too. It seemed a far better option to leave him here, didn't it? What would you get out of him when he was in this strange vegetative state? Besides just a cold leer...
Yet as you were trying to retreat, his hand suddenly reached out and took yours again. Flinching, not expecting the action, you froze up a little and looked down at where you were now connected, before raising your eyes to meet his.
Those plush lips parted, and for once, however quietly, you heard his voice.
“...Come with me.”
...Go with him?
...Go where?
No...no you couldn't. You'd loved him once, there had even been a time when you would have thrown yourself into an early grave just to keep him safe. Times changed though. People did.
Here stood a man you could trust no longer. His touch was so alien to you now that you jerked away from it, stumbling back a few steps.
Better to let the trees swallow you up instead. Better to go back to the warm fire at camp, sit and eat with those who still truly cared for you.
Better to leave this stranger standing here, hand still extended like you'd never left at all.  
This wasn't the same Griffith anymore.
Perhaps...you were the one who ought to abandon him...
Like my writing? I can write for you! Check out my WRITING COMMISSIONS!
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channnel · 1 year ago
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Since I posted my old drawing of mdhm (that and I haven't posted for a while), might as well post my very first drawing of it.
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Featuring old art #2, Alan looked so different in my old art style, Claude doesn't have arms, and Jules looks like Jules.
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davidnsantana · 5 months ago
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THE DEVIL
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A change from the Merlin usual Merlin fanart
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nevesmose · 12 days ago
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I did some stories for the 40K Secret Sanguinala and Berserk Clangmas exchanges last year! Been occupied with my usual new year depressive breakdown so I'm only just now getting around to going into more detail about them here...
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So the prompt I chose for this one was Konrad Curze/Shang including the requestor's various additional likes of smut, consensual relationship, female Konrad & pegging, fixed power dynamics between dominant primarch and submissive Astartes. And I think I met the brief pretty well, tbh.
Kassandra seemed like a good choice of name for a female Konrad. I've seen it done sometimes with Constance or Konnie or various other ways but this is Warhammer, the "Iron Hand, Primarch of the Iron Hands, who has metal hands and a spaceship called the Fist of Iron" setting. Nothing is too on the nose, and honestly for me that's a big part of the charm. So it felt entirely appropriate to name female Konrad after a seer of the future that nobody believes.
But we know what her real name is, don't we? Night Haunter. It probably sounds better in Nostraman but I always enjoy emphasing how that's his true name in his own perception. Sometimes people view him as having dual personalities of the """"good"""" Konrad versus the evil Night Haunter or something, but since he's Space Batman I tend to think of it more in the same way as some portrayals of the Dark Knight where Batman is who he is internally, all the time, and "Bruce Wayne" is just the palatable disguise worn for the benefit of others when it's necessary to do so.
I wasn't vastly familiar with Shang before writing this, but catching up on his appearances I found his dynamic pretty compelling, especially how he's shown to have genuine loyalty and love for Konrad, and it's mentioned that in return Shang is the only one of his legion that Konrad doesn't hate. Not that he loves Shang back or even likes him all that much, just that he doesn't actively loathe him.
That felt kind of interesting to me because of the wider dynamic that the Night Lords all seem to have of trying in various different ways to finally, finally win the affection and approval of a dysfunctional abusive father figure who hates them and himself and the entirety of existence, and the kind of futile hopes that this time for sure everything will be OK and Konrad will recover from his devastating untreated mental health issues and he'll finally like his army of space serial killers and violent criminals.
There's pegging too. Honestly it was fun to air out some of my favourite femdom elements since it's a good proportion of my fairly sizeable collection of romance novels, but you wouldn't know it from my very yaoi-centric fic output.
This was a treat for @chemos-factories who is a wonderful person and deserves good things, based on his request for Perturabo/Clonegrim with Perturabo wanting to acquire a perfect clone of Fulgrim for reasons that he may not be able to admit to himself. The suggested bodice ripper vibes somehow turned into fairy tale vibes as we explore Perty building a palace full of Saw traps to imprison and torture Fulgrim in, and then getting Clonegrim for entirely rational research purposes that have no twisted romantic elements whatsoever...
In the end Perty does not actually get the precious Clonussy but he does perhaps come close to actually learning something about the pain of bearing grudges and hatreds for millennia. Will he listen or actually change? Nah, of course not, this is Perturabo we're talking about. That's the tragedy of his character. But the opportunity was there at least.
And I wanted to give Clonegrim what felt like a proper happy ending for him as his own person. Like sometimes people say he should go and fight for the Imperium and lead the Sons of the Phoenix or redeem the Emperor's Children or something, and I just feel like even if that were possible that isn't, or wouldn't be, his personal goal or dream. So instead he gets to be his own person, living about as freely as anyone can, and have lots of fun Rogue Trader adventures as he explores the galaxy.
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Genuinely one of the darker and more messed-up things I've written! The part of the request I focused on was King of Midland/The Torturer, Alternate Universe - The Torturer Is a Slightly Deformed Twink Erotically Obsessed with the King. That sounded interestingly grotesque to me, especially with the "nasty older men" aspect also mentioned in the prompt.
For all that I'm an alexithymic faceblind autist, I like to think I have a reasonable command of the kind of writing tricks that can be used to manipulate people into feeling things about a character and so I really pulled out all the stops for this one to get people to care about Twinkturer aka Frantz.
His name is taken from the main subject of The Faithful Executioner by Joel F Harrington which is a very, very good history book based on the diary of Frantz Schmidt, the city of Nuremberg's municipal torturer and executioner in the late 1500s/early 1600s.
The element of him being one of Gennon's victims felt like an effective starting point to achieve that, and also led to a fairly reasonable explanation for how his obsession with the King could occur in the first place.
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The important aspect (as well as making him reasonably pretty as requested in the prompt) was to have it from his POV since everyone is the main character of their own story and (mostly) perceives their experiences and actions in ways that support or explain themselves and their worldview.
Of course, he's also deeply fucked up so his perceptions of things are not at all reliable, and that only gets worse as the distant effects of Griffith and the Hawks start to impact his life. I deliberately didn't have him ever meet any of the main characters in person because why would he? Everywhere except in his own head, he's an utter non-entity at the very bottom of the social hierarchy who spends his time doing horrible things in a dungeon.
He really could have had something with Alek though. They could have been happy despite everything. Sadly it's irrelevant of course, because of the King being jealous and vindictive. My original idea for the character was a bizarro funhouse mirror version of Griffith who has never had anything go right for him, but he ended up being a bizarro Charlotte instead which just added an entirely new layer of disturbing nasty old man exploitation to the story.
I had a lot of fun with this one, which started out as a quick little treat and ended up being almost 10k words of alternate universe Griffguts where Berserk is a TV show and they’re just actors. It's definitely one of those stories that took on a life of its own as it went on and overall I think it turned out well. I'm feeling particularly positive about the humour and the smut scenes here which, to me anyway, felt a lot more comfortable and natural than some of my other attempts at it. Actual improvement from practicing at doing something? Big if true.
I've always really enjoyed reading books/articles and watching videos about troubled and chaotic productions of movies and TV shows. It's fascinating and entertaining in a way I just can't describe to see these vast projects being changed and warped by all kinds of external and internal factors, and the ways in which this impacts the people who actually have to make the show or movie happen.
So in the AU, Guts has recently quit being a professional wrestler to start an acting career instead. He isn't based on any particular people as I don't actually know anything much about wrestling beyond that Rhea Ripley exists but he's aiming to have a kind of John Cena or Dwayne Johnson sort of trajectory.
AU Griffith is just That British Actor, you know the one, he's been in a few different movies and shows but you might struggle to remember exactly which ones. Sort of a blend of Tom Felton, Tom Hiddleston and a very small amount of Michael Sheen, and maybe Jacob McCarthy looks-wise? In any case he likes Berserk and he will achieve his dream of being Griffith no matter what it takes.
The Coriolanus bits, especially Guts finding the videos of it, were mainly inspired by the 2014 version starring Tom Hiddleston at the peak of his Loki popularity, during which he did in fact kiss Aufidius to the delight of the audience, as well as the 2011 movie version with Ralph Fiennes and Gerard Butler which also did a good job of portraying a more gruff middle-aged version of their enemies to lovers toxic yaoi.
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I included a lot of fun little details in this one just to amuse myself with the AU / show within a show concept, but as it went on I was actually pretty entertained by working out how to adapt the Golden Age events into the story's low-budget cyberpunk version. Reassembled Cyberdemon Femto was pretty cool to imagine, and since I mentioned SOMA and Virus (1999) as inspirations for the production team in-story here's some pictures for vibes purposes.
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It was really nice to take part and to get so much positive feedback from readers who took the time to comment! I have an inbox full of comments to reply to but just in general I really appreciated hearing people's thoughts on the stories. Thank you all! 🥰
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fallloverfic · 9 months ago
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Rating: Explicit
Category: M/M
Fandom:  Berserk (Anime & Manga)
Relationships: Griffith/Guts
Tags: canon divergence, porn with feelings, fix-it, hurt/comfort, men crying, angst with a happy ending, set after morning departure, golden age, more tags on Ao3
Summary: After Guts leaves Griffith defeated and kneeling in the snow, Griffith realizes he can't just stay behind. He catches up to Guts, and they discuss dreams.
First Chapter
Last Chapter
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philosophicalparadox · 2 years ago
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As done as it's gonna be. I've been working on this way too long y'all. So here it is, some good old Griffguts.
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From a fanfic of mine that has also spent too much time in progress lol. Courtesy a poll it now has a real and permanent name (only like 9 revisions lol). 🔥 Now in this scene Griffith is actually very, very ill, but the candle lighting kinda fixed the sickly skin tone soooo...eh.
The wounds and scars are...self inflicted, let's put it that way.
I will post the fic link when it's ready. 😀
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ideklolwat · 6 months ago
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Holy Daughter of the Heavens and "Blessed" King of Longing
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eemcintyre · 5 months ago
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Surprise very spicy one-shot! (Terry Silver)
TW- daddy kink, humiliation kink, dacryphilia kind of, slight size kink, coming inside.
Summary- Reader is embarrassed to ask Terry (CK era) if she can call him by a title that I think is obvious from the TW
I have no idea what to call this or what dark recess of my mind it came from, but here's a very random little treat for y'all that I hope you enjoy <3 (P.S. happy vacation @karatekels)
~
“There’s something you don’t want to tell me,” he realized. “I promise, whatever it is, I won’t be upset with you.”
“No. It’s not… It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it, it’s…” The tension in her shoulders dropped from frustration as her voice fell to a barely audible murmur. “I can’t talk about it. I can’t tell you.”
“Come here; sit down.” Terry patted one of his thighs, spreading his legs slightly, beckoning her into his lap.
She glanced timidly up from her shuffling feet to his lap and decided it was better not to keep testing him, as that never seemed to end well for anyone. As he positioned her to straddle and face him, slipping his arms around her waist and feeling her tentatively settle into the familiar, comforting position, he continued.
“You know you can tell me anything, babydoll.” Her back tensed up again and he ran a large hand up and down her spine. “You’ve got me curious now.”
“I can’t…” She tried to wrestle back out of his grip, but he just held her tighter, stroking one hand across her back more firmly and digging the nails of his other hand into her over her clothes as a warning.
“Why? Are you worried I’ll be mad, that I’ll laugh, what?” He smiled gently in an attempt to get her to lower her guard, but she recoiled as much as it was possible from his inquiring expression and touch.
“It’s embarrassing,” she whimpered.
Now Terry was sure- between how she was simultaneously unable to even look at him but also constantly fidgeting against his body, to the pink flush that climbed her neck and had her cheeks absolutely glowing- this was about something sexual.
No longer having to worry about whether something was seriously wrong, Terry’s more mischievous and cunning instincts awakened. He leaned in to begin pressing gentle kisses along her jaw, seeking to both reassure her and heighten the humiliated arousal she seemed to be feeling. Though she still refused to tear her gaze from the wall behind them, her posture stiffened, breaths now coming in short gasps.
“You know I’ll give you whatever you want- all you have to do is ask me.” She opened her mouth, but he corrected her before she could speak- “You have to look at me, baby.”
She tried to curl into herself, hiding her face in the spot connecting Terry's shoulder and neck and letting out a frustrated whine before he pulled her back into his view, gripping her chin to force her to face him. He gazed at her expectantly, not wanting to be too harsh and intimidate her back into her shell, but sternly enough to compel her to obey. Several long seconds of silence ensued.
She swallowed hard, taking one of his hands in hers and toying with it; the action was something solid and concrete to ground her racing heart and thoughts, tracing the veins and his long fingers. He would allow her as long as it took to collect herself, but she was going to tell him what was on her mind. When she finally spoke, he was surprised at how much she managed to steady her voice.
“I was just wondering if… Can I… Can I call you daddy?”
Terry froze, momentarily forgetting to breathe as his vision went hazy and blood rushed to below his belt. When he didn’t immediately respond, she wrenched her chin from his grip and hid her face in her hands.
“I told you, never mind! It’s stupid and weird; it’s disgusting…”
“It is disgusting,” he nodded, his voice hoarse. He slowly pulled her hands from her face, revealing tears glimmering at the corners of her eyes as she tried her hardest yet to struggle out of her spot on his lap. In a sudden move he then yanked her hips so that they were flush against him and squeezed her waist possessively. “I want you to say it again.”
Her jaw went slack, eyes wide with shock as she croaked out “…Daddy.”
“Now, tell me exactly what you want, because I’m aching to give it to you,” Terry groaned, placing one of her delicate hands over his pants and the shape of his hardening cock. She shuddered, this time from arousal rather than anxiety, forcing herself to maintain eye contact as he guided her hand up and down his shaft.
“Please take care of me, daddy,” she whimpered, the title still feeling foreign on her tongue, but not wrong. “I’m so wet for you.”
He felt the last of her stubborn will to fight and hide from him diminish as she started to lean into his touch, melting into the warmth of his large hand over hers and his growing erection beneath it.
“I bet you are,” he replied in a smug, condescending tone that made her feel small and even more embarrassed, if it were possible. “That’s a good girl; keep going.”
She stuttered her way through a few more of the specifics of what she craved; the twisted things she wanted him to do to her that were all the more so with his new title in the mix.
“Don’t worry, angel,” Terry crooned, “Daddy knows exactly what you need.”
With that, he effortlessly swept her into his arms, carrying her upstairs to the bedroom. Setting her on her unsteady feet, he undid every button and zipper with reverence, relishing the way she clung to him when her knees buckled.
Once she was bare for him, Terry pulled her back into his lap at the end of the bed, facing the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. It was nerve-wracking to be totally exposed to him while he remained clothed, especially as this image stared her inescapably in the face from the mirror. She clutched the arm he had looped around her stomach as he spread her legs open with his own and studied her hungrily.
“Just relax for me,” he cooed, stroking the inside of her thigh before running the pads of his fingers through her wetness. “Tell daddy how he makes you feel.”
She was already wet enough for him to work two fingers inside her and thrust at a slow but steady rhythm, feeling her fluttering walls suck him in. He looked up from his handiwork to the reflection of the mirror, admiring how his fingers stretched her. They could reach all the right spots inside her that her own fingers couldn’t.
“Hhhnnn, feels so good… ah! Oh…”
His rough fingers curled up and grazed that spongy spot inside of her that made her keen, bucking her hips against his hand. Her free hand shot out to grab his muscular thigh for support as she clenched uncontrollably around him.
“You take it so well for me,” he hummed, craning his neck to plant hot, wet kisses across the side of her face.
“You’re so deep.” She was already nearly sobbing as the obscene sounds of his fingers moving in and out intensified.
“Listen to how soaked you are. That’s all for me?” He took one of her hands in his and pressed a kiss to it, the tenderness of the gesture combined with his degrading commentary making her lightheaded.
“Yes!” she cried. The combination of humiliation and pleasure was getting so overwhelming that, in the interest of self-preservation, she shut her eyes and covered her mouth.
Terry wasn’t going to go for that. He wanted- and felt he deserved- every single look and sound he elicited; every gory detail. His reward for making her feel so good, even if it absolutely mortified her. In fact, that arguably made it all the sweeter. Prying her hand from her lips, he shook his head, sighing. “Oh, don’t get all shy on me again now. You love it when I humiliate you a little.”
She was unable to suppress a gasp at the pressure inside as he finally increased the pace of his fingers.
“Aaaahhh! God, fuck!”
He grinned. Knowing that she was getting close, he withdrew his hand from her pussy. She started to whine helplessly until he took her by surprise and flipped them both around. Now she was underneath him on her stomach, pressed to the bed, rendered speechless.
“That’s why you got all hot and bothered asking if you could call me daddy,” he remarked. They were still facing the direction of the mirror, and she eyed the reflection of him towering behind her from his knees on the mattress, undoing his pants. “That’s vile.”
After Terry divested himself of his clothing, he grabbed her roughly by the ankles, flipping her onto her back and caging her underneath him again. Then he lunged at her, sucking hickeys into her neck and collarbone, his thick cock prodding at her thigh, making her ache in anticipation. She dug her nails into his broad shoulders, drawing a guttural sound from his lips.
“Was your father not there for you when you needed him to be? Was he even around at all?” Terry growled, sounding both like he was trying to further humiliate her and like he was angry at the possibility of anyone having hurt her. Before she could choke out a coherent answer, he continued. “That’s okay. Now you have a man who will treat you the way you deserve,” Terry spat, finally sheathing his throbbing cock inside of her, to the hilt, all in one go. She wailed at the sudden, all-encompassing feeling of fullness. “Surround you with my love and fill you full of it until you can’t take any more.”
The innuendo was not lost on her and, as his balls smacked her ass with each thrust, the thought of him pumping her full of his come sent a fresh wave of heat through her. His powerful thrusts sent her bouncing against the surface of the bed. Each one was initially accompanied by a sharp twinge of pain, but it soon faded into the dull, perversely satisfying ache that she had become used to with him.
At this point, he had her folded nearly in half under him, white-knuckling her legs over his shoulders as he pounded her into the mattress. He would be the sole guiding, protecting and caretaking older male figure in her life from now on. Without interrupting his brutal movements, he bent to make out with her, sliding his tongue into her warm and unresistant mouth. At the simultaneous penetrating movements of his cock and his tongue, she melted in his grip, pussy gushing around him.
“You want me to give it to you?” he asked, breaking the embrace and leaving them both gasping.
“Please! I need you, please!” she pleaded, eyes starting to well up again from the complete and utter overstimulation of everything.
“And who am I to you?” Terry persisted, reason leaving his body as he drew ever close to the edge and the sick animal in him fully took over. He was desperate to draw every last descriptive detail out of her even if it meant overwhelming her to the point of a complete breakdown. He pinned her wrists against the bed, adjusting the angle of his thrusts, only tearing his eyes away from hers to observe the faint outline of his dick rearranging her insides.  
“Daddy!” she cried, the tears finally rolling down her flushed cheeks, her hands fisted into the blankets. Every stroke now had him in danger of blowing his load. He demanded again through gritted teeth:
“Who’s your daddy, baby?”
“You! You are!” she screamed, body trembling violently and words then dissolving into moans as she came all over his cock. The intensity of her pulsating around him was enough to finally set him off as well, and with a few more forceful, erratic thrusts, he came so hard that his eyes nearly rolled back, cock twitching, pumping his come into her with every pulse.
“That’s it, that’s my sweet girl,” he murmured various soothing words in her ear, slipping a hand under her ass for leverage and to fuck his come even deeper as they each rode their orgasm out.
Before he had a chance to pull out, she reached up to maneuver him so that he was laying on top of her, finding the weight calming as the spinning sensations in her mind and body stilled. He was content to oblige, tucking his face in the crook of her neck and taking in the heady scent of their combined perfume, cologne, body heat and sex as he worked to slow his ragged breathing back to normal.  
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chansao · 17 days ago
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Os dois morrem no final
• capa para futura doação
• fanart por amuiiart
Outra capa para coleção, só fiz para irritar Aoi Ollie todo . Agora se ja li os livros sobre, não mas pretendo .
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bramblesbriars · 6 months ago
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Any photo inspiration for how Daniel and Terry look in your excellent fic Middle of the Night? Were you inspired by Ralph or TIG’s appearances in KKverse or their other movies?
Oh I have PLENTY. Too many to post here. I do have a Pinterest board that I will try to link. Hopefully that'll work.
But for specific references I love using plain old Daniel from Karate Kid 3. He's strangely thick in that movie, so he's perfect for the fic.
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(I looked for gifs and couldn't find any. Am sad 😔 )
As for Terry. Well-
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He takes inspiration from an entirely different Terry. I imagine the MOTN Terry wearing his hair down more than KK3 Terry would. And the trench coats, definitely wears trench coats. Hence McCain. His curls and fashion sense just match better for what's going on in my head for KK3 Terry.
I wish I could find better pictures of Daniel. The image I have specifically of him is when Terry first meets him and Daniel is wearing those burgundy sweat pants. They just make his hips look particularly wide.
Anyway. 🤔
Those are the main references I use for MOTN! Leaving the link to my horrid Pinterest board below for ya'lls enjoyment. Or terror.
Thanks for the ask and the support! I always appreciate it! ☺️
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honeydewsour · 8 months ago
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Penelope Griffith @amberlide ‘s OC ft. long haired version with a braid!
If you like Garreth Weasley definitely check out their works on archiveofourown !!
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chaos-of-the-abyss · 1 year ago
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Griffgutsweekend 2023 Day 1: Thread of Destiny
@griffgutsweekend ; @ofdemonsandangels
Happy Griffguts weekend! This is... not actually that relevant to the prompt but "thread of destiny" was the closest or at least the least un-relevant?
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