#griffith fanfic

[angelltheninth]

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.

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.

[gyodragon]

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

[eemcintyre]

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

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.”

[chansao]

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

[thevanillerose]

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.

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!

[missvaseline]

Whenever you watch me: Chapter 2 (Griffith x Reader) 18+

When Griffith was a child, he found his very first member. They've grown together and she became the best swordsman he’s ever seen, a prodigy. But there is a difference between being a mercenary, and then being Griffith’s.

Triggers: harassment, heavy manipulation, possessiveness, dubious consent, sadism

Read Previous: Chapter 1

The swordsman's eyes focused on the tree line following the river before she turned to the voice behind her.

“You show up and ask me to race now?” The swordsman asked, adorning skepticism on her face.

“Like I’ve been showing up and asking you every sunrise. This isn’t a strange occurrence.”

“While we are… upset at each other?” She corrected.

Aqua eyes searched for every hint of understanding that he could find within her own. Her name slipped between his lips as he scoffed.

“When I told you to retreat for the night, I was no longer upset.”

Delicate lips twinged as she brushed her fingers between the fabric of yesterday’s clothing balled in her arms, a nervous habit over any of her wear. Inky guilt still clung to her while skepticism hid just beneath.

“What if I’m too upset to race?”

“Then I’ll console you.”

A breeze settled through that chilled her without her armor. And it was all the more reason to ponder simply putting on the iron suit and racing with him just for a little bit. These moments stirred her into long confusion, words were usually stuck behind chattering teeth while she struggled to understand. It felt like a need lost and forgotten in the comfortable confines of its near famine which never seemed to fully go away in every cycle

“I’ll put on my armor.” She said.

She slipped passed the linen of her tent and all too quickly strapped herself into her armor. When she had come out he had already gathered their horses, quietly waiting while the morning fog lapped at the metal plates over his calves.

He looked magnificent. It was a standard thought that he tended to himself more often in the mornings. But it seemed as though it was more than usual. How the world around her grows rose tint the closer she got to him. He had this way about him.

The dueler gathered the leather reigns from him, climbing onto her steed. It was soon that hooves trotted in rhythms beside each other. The low of yesternight was melted by the warmth of the morning and already she was in higher spirits. They would go a mile out from camp, riding into a trail that slithered through crowded trees; their score with each other was neck and neck in their races.

“How far do you want to go?” He asked.

“To the hills? Finish line at the big boulder.” The corners of his lips lifted.

“Ambitious today?”

And hers did too, “Are you?” She concurred.

When their horses stopped at the redwood tree they had labeled as a starting point for the area, they had waited. She kept her steed ready.

“We’ll see where the ambition goes after this race.”

She tightened her fingers over leather, already picking out the best routes to take. She brushed the dark brunette main of her steed, leaning in slightly. Blue eyes toured the slant of her body pressed over the back of her mount.

“Listen Viola, we’re going to defeat this chap and I swear, I’ll find as many apples for you to eat. Focus, girl” She whispered to the flicking ear of the stead before straightening herself. The horse chortles and snorts in response, breaths in the cold air danced.

“I could never get over that name, Viola.” He tittered. "I wonder if the apples you feed her will be from spoils or consolations.”

Suddenly, leather cracked into the air as he whipped his reigns, his stallion surged forward leaving a trail of his laughter behind to chase after.

“You cheat!” She yelled, painfully snapping her reins, the quick jolt of her horse being unfelt in comparison to Griffith’s jests.

“Cheat?”  His voice called back honeyed in mock offense as he failed to let her catch up, “Whenever did I call start before?”

Molars pressed into themselves as heels dug into the sides of her steed. Her stomach nearly pressed into the curved leather of her saddle as she leaned forward trying to catch as much speed as possible. Long silver tail hairs whipped like a mocking flag in front of her as she focused.

“I didn’t call start yet!” Her nag finally ate the distance between them.

“Ambition doesn’t wait for permission.”

His fingers loosened over his reins as a form of mercy, slowing down just to mirror her steed.

“There. Better?” He cast his Azure gaze on her as his lips formed into a leer.

“Oh, don’t give me that, you are so cheap.” She said between laughter, both of their steeds galloping easily through the trail. In just enough gradualness, she hastened her mount again to shoot forward. A defiant chortle shot out of her as she snapped back to look for Griffith behind. Though only the empty damp pined path was shown before hearing his horse snort beside her.

“They’re my tricks, don’t you think it would be harder to use on me?”

“Of course.” The swordsman grumbles, leather creaking between her tightening fingers.

His smile turned away as his eyes flickered in behind him and then forward. His horse suddenly stepped in front of her path, halting her.

“Let’s take a detour.” Eyes flickered up to his as her brow tilts.

“I don’t know the paths out this far besides this one and we are racing.”

“Plans changed. You can follow me.”

He says as he and his steed sift in front of her, the golden light from the sky kissing his argent locks into its color.

“We have training-“

“I let them know we are on a longer race.”

The air grew quiet before she finally relented, following him deeper into the forest where the path raised into its convoluted nature. Every piece of land was a novelty in every pace revealed as she grew quiet.

“Where are we going?” She called out as she trailed behind him.

“You’ll see.”

He replied without looking back.

Intuition stirred beneath the surface of her as they ventured forth. Minutes melted into nearly an hour before the trees parted themselves into a small field. Blue speckled between green in the clearing like a secret waiting to be told.

The swordsman halted before going any deeper as trail of parted grass followed his horse until he stopped at the center, the only thin misplaced was a ross ridden boulder. Life had painted him in front of her eyes in a still frame until the breeze whispered between silver, wavy tresses and the greenery below him. Her mind couldn’t fumble the words together as his cobalt eyes pointing the sky suddenly flickered down to her.

“How do you feel?”

he asked, making her uncertainty well to the surface.

“A bit… confused, though, the orchids are beautiful… these are the same flowers we used to collect as children.”

“Why did you decide to follow me?”

The swordsman paused as she searched for his meanings in his eyes.

“Because… you told me to?” She stilled on her horse as she watched him carefully.

“Why when I said so?”

Air thickened with his tone. Asking the question again and again until she made the right answer.

“Because I wanted to.”

Griffith slipped off of his horse, pacing to her, palm open, beckoning her. He silently waited.

“I don’t understand the meaning of this-“

“Take my hand.” He interrupted with velvet shaping the dagger hidden under his words.

Carefully, she reached for his hand, slipping off her horse before he quietly paced them to the center of the field. The dueler moved to pull her hand away but he tightened his fingers to the shape of her palm. Blades of grass and pedals sighed between armor as they sifted to the middle where rays of the sun littered groups of sapphire corolla at once. He finally stopped and turned to face her, his look burrowing into her own.

“You followed me here because you want to. Our shared history. It wasn’t blind faith.”

A tug and she skipped closer.

“You aren’t blindly following me.” He whispered as if the trees that stood around them was an audience attempting to peer into their conversation. Silver brows furrows slightly with a rare look. So unique it was hard to place.

“I see…” The swords master averted her gaze as confusion was hitting to a boiling point. She was scared to say the wrong thing. To stir him when they were alone, damn near lost away from the camp.

She was trapped here with adrift and him. Leather over the pad of his thumb brushed over her knuckles.

“When I stumbled on this field, It scared me.” Silver lashes veiled his eyes as he glanced at the curves that made her palms.

“Why?”

“Because it was something other than what I always thought I wanted for once.” He gave a half smile, “That was years ago. Could you imagine how my thoughts are now?”

“What were those thoughts?” She asked.

A beat of silence and he tugged her fingers to pull her a step closer to him. His presence, larger than the field they were standing in.

“How do I own a kingdom when you’re not there.”

Eyes stared until the cool breeze between them forced her to blink.

“I could be a knight or come to visit whenever I can. I’m sure you’ll be busy in the castle when you get there.” She cooed, trying to soothe his worries. It was understandable, they were like bonded felines- unable to stray too far from each other naturally. At least that was her reasoning

“I mean,” He paused before craning over her, “When you’re not here, like this. This close.”

Blood quickly ran to her cheeks; It felt so dry outside there was nothing to swallow.

“I won’t be leaving you like that. I’ll always be here when you need me.” Was all she could muster. She stilled, eyes widening as she felt silvery, wavy bangs against her forehead as he pressed his against hers. Another breath shortens while leather slipped against her cheek.

“Always?” He murmurs, “Say it again.”

The cold confused her; she couldn’t stop shaking. The dueler took a step back but he followed with another in a duet.

“I-I’ll always be here.” her breath pushed out. She jolted as the thumb that rubbed her cheek suddenly pressed upon her bottom lip, brushing it open. He reeled for comfort again, his compulsive need wrapping around her like a bag over her head.

“Again.”

He took a step closer, caging her against the large boulder she thought was so far away.

“I’ll a-always!“ She coughed as she felt his thumb push against her tongue. “Griff-!“

“Shh shh.” Griffith hushed, His thumb slid deeper while the tip his nose brushed against her scalp, inhaling the ghost fragrance of lilac. “You always reminded me of these orchids.”

The swordsman began to pant. Sheets of her armor scraped against the boulder, the sound that tore from it felt as grating as the gloved finger between her teeth. She yanked her mouth back before she felt the bite of fingers squeeze her jaw harder. Hacks sounded again while a strange tinge coil within her gut.

“Where you don’t need much care to be in the way that’s perfect. Beautiful.” He whispered, “I just needed to keep the weeds away to let you grow when we were kids. It was easy that way then... Do you know how hard that will be when I’m writing edicts and sitting on the throne. How the weeds will come then to steal your time like vultures who were waiting for the kill all along.”

Palms push at his shoulder as she gagged while the finger held her tongue down.

“Griffith-”

Nails skitter at iron plates before he finally relinquished her, spit bridging from her chin while she peeled over to cough violently. Griffith simply held his gaze at her while the wretching continued.

“I apologize for the slip.” He said almost too gently. He kept himself gated behind a boundary he was barely holding up to.

“I had gotten upset thinking about it-”

“Fuck your feelings, you scared me!”

He kept the mask of calm as she resolved herself. She peeled from the rock to quickly get to her horse, scrambling like it was life raft.

“Whatever is going on with you, you need to deal with it!”

She yelled as he didn’t turn to face her. She assumed it was from guilt.

“You don’t even know the way back.”

“I’ll find it!” She yelled as she whipped her reins, the hooves driving themselves away from him- leaving him in the parting of trees. Her eyes were frantic as she shivered on her horse. Why would he do that? Where did that come from? Why was he acting this way suddenly? It was the questions that poured into her because if he were to rock in his resolve, she would feel it. She always did. Even when he appeared calm- it was the slightest tone of his voice that would make her feel it.

He's never this upset unless she spent too much time training with others. In their teens, whenever she would come home late from hanging with the others, she would face his fury in the shape of him sitting in dent in chair at their shack of a home. The hidden resolve would torture her with questions and nitpickings down the bone just for him to reshape her skin with something else.

Flowers hummed against steel as he stood long after she had left.

[channnel]

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.

Featuring old art #2, Alan looked so different in my old art style, Claude doesn't have arms, and Jules looks like Jules.

[nine-blessed-hero]

2x last line + an excerpt

I was tagged by @hannah-heartstrings and @inkoherentwriting for a last line, and also yoinking an open tag from @jiubilant for an excerpt, TY all!

Tagging back (reminder this is DruidX's fandom sideblog): @aalinaaaaaa @ieppiq @wispstalk @rhikasa @eli-writes-sometimes @hannah-heartstrings @artdecosupernova-writing @mythrilpencil @aquadestinyswriting @reneesbooks @oh-no-another-idea @winglesswriter @pheita

Rules: Post the last line you wrote in your current project OR a short excerpt from your current project (or if you fancy, do both like me).

This is the most recent bit I've added to The Ruby Falls, featuring a text conversation between Baurus (BB) and Aderyn, HoK (Problem Child) regarding her acquisition of the Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes

To: BB From: Problem Child Good - 1st ed had a copy of vol. 3 Bad - some other fucker got there first Dw I've got a plan To: Problem Child From: BB Copy that. Wait. What plan? What. plan. ??

[davidnsantana]

THE DEVIL

A change from the Merlin usual Merlin fanart

[eemcintyre]

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.  

[chansao]

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 .

[vobomon]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Berserk (Anime & Manga) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Griffith | Femto/Judeau (Berserk) Characters: Griffith | Femto (Berserk), Judeau (Berserk) Additional Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Based on an AU that I'm working with my friend on..., Will have different situations and scenarios that we thought up, This fanfic is going to be an on-going collection of those scenario, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Apostle Judeau AU Summary:

Folks would always claim that Griffith and Judeau seemed like more than friends... it was almost like they were bonded at the hip. You'd never see one without the other following quickly behind. 

After the events of the Eclipse, that fact still rings true. Judeau is willing to follow Griffith to the ends of the Earth. Even if it means following him into Hell and forgoing his humanity in order to stay by his side...

(Apostle!Judeau AU)

[fallloverfic]

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

[missvaseline]

Whenever you watch me: Chapter 1 (Griffith x Reader)

When Griffith was a child, he found his very first member. They've grown together and she became the best swordsman he’s ever seen, a prodigy. But there is a difference between being a mercenary, and then being Griffith’s.

[Third person limted POV] This whole thing is a super fun piece I wanted to write even for the simple plot, ultimately for the masochists out here in these streets. I feel messed up for wanting to write it, especially because- I mean c'mon, Griffith, but screw it. I'm messed up and always knew that.

Reader will go by swordsman, sword master, etc. so as not to break the immersion of the story. TTS is included if you want to listen in and read.(I will try my best to include TTS in all future fics, its easier to listen sometimes) All four chapters will Include HEAVY manipulation so please be warned- it may be very triggering for those who read it. The smut is of dubious consent too, please be warned. Word Count: 2229

The sun climbed into the sky until its highest peak where Icarus couldn’t reach. The swordsman, sleek in a coat of sweat, hair messy with wind brushed through her tresses, gazed at the cuts over the wooden figure. Shades of her sword littered the rough surface of the dummy as she contemplated a rehearsed technique. She was oblivious to the tall grass grazing her calf, her body was mute to the blanket of the cold air around her.

All that mattered was the target. She kept her stance, her calves flexed as she held herself, suspending in time before sprinting. She quickly swung her sword forward, twisting her body as she swiped to put in more power. Enough that the sword went right through the wood, cutting the dummy’s ‘head’ clean off.She panted as while stuttering to a stop, looking back to see her work behind her in just the way she wanted it. Pride swelled at her chest, and it felt like the giggle that came was so fast, it was as if it didn’t ring from her.

“Good work”

A soft voice snaked behind her, coiling her in a frozen trepidation of embarrassment.

She looked back to see the sunlight pressed on his light features as if were molding some statue of God. Her eyes squinted, trying to adjust to the gleam of his armor. Usually, it was always simpler to look at him than to look at the slaughtered carnage around them during their battles- but this time it felt difficult.

“You were watching the whole time, Griffith?”

“Is there anything wrong with that?” He asked.

His voice, like feathers, brushed her for so long that it made her raw in the most uncomfortable places.

“When you don’t announce yourself, indeed there is something wrong.” She said as she put her sword back into her hilt. She appeared agitated while she paced passed him. The mocking calm he had only seemed to spur her further.

“But you’re out here, where anyone can land their eyes on you.” He began to follow behind her like a phantom,

“How is it a sin to check on my favorite sword fighter?” The sword master turned on the ball of her heel to look at crystal blue eyes.

“Because you know I dislike being watched? Because I could mistake you for an enemy? There is no other place to practice, of course I’ll be out here.” An incredulous snort sifted through her nose, her hands catching on her hips.

“Right here, and not just beyond the hills to the forest where the trees can hide you?” He was suddenly beside her, leaning in playfully with a whisper that plucked some strange feeling in her.

“If you did mistake me as an enemy, do you think you would hurt me?” She stopped on the trail to the camp, snapping her gaze up only to find him craned above her with a disturbing look of calm.

“And be ambushed?” She asked, crossing her arms, “Yes, I would.” His full lips stretched into a smile; it was the same one he would use when courting officials. His giggle turned into full laughter in front of her as if the notion was absurd.

“Hey!” She yelled in defense.

“I’m remembering our fights when we were young, and I must say… whenever did you hurt me in swords?” He lilts playfully.

The sword master simply glared at him before sucking at her tongue, continuing the trail back to camp. These jests were familiar since she was young. Even when he tugged her from the rubble of her war-torn village, he had this sort of humor. When they were by themselves, they were sheltered away from the elements of weather and people alike. She could never understand if it was because he was correct or if it was to demean her.

Even though he was a year older, he had taken her in and tended to her when they were just kids. Possibly even groomed her to be the absolute member before the Band of Hawk was ever conspired. And she would grow like a tree being molded into shape in just the way he wanted. Though blankets and skin would be shared during the winter, and rations of food gathered would often be split for the both of them, it was for a purpose. For his goal in having a kingdom or from the compassion of his heart, she didn’t know. They would often race down the slums together on foot, arm wrestling, wooden swords before iron, playing games always meant competing. Even now.

“I defended myself against the bandits of war that ultimately killed my parents, successfully killing them at eight years of age, there is a rather large chance I could harm you.” She smirks as she nudged him with her elbow.

Though it was playful, he didn’t smile.

“When I found you, you were the only one left standing, clutching your father’s sword like a vice while the bandits were slaughtered on the ground. Those were four men. I never doubted you would be something. What I’m saying is that I know you like the back of my hand. You’re superb in your constitution but you’re loyal. You wouldn’t hurt me.”

She paused and looked at him as they walked together. “You talk as though I’m your dog.”

“Am I not yours?” He asked in response.

“Why would you be?” She asked and when she looked at him, his face stunned her into silence. He was staring at her with this slight furrow in his brow. He looked rather irritated… or upset. It surprised her.

Later that night at the camp, he was watching her through the flames, the expression lingered on him like a ghost.

“Hey, how was the practice earlier?” J udeau asked, shooting her a smile. Everyone was tucked into the fire, leaning in to catch its warmth.

“Same old. Just doing a thousand swipes.” She smiled, Griffith’s expression nagged at her like a rock in her boot. It was inevitable that she would end up in his tent tonight, asking him why he was so upset. There were times when he gave her this silent treatment to beckon her into what he wanted, whether it be actions or explanations. He played her like a fiddle.

“You’re still doing that technique?” He asked, gesturing his arms in the same way she would swipe. The other band members drank their ail, talking amongst themselves. The chatter only made Griffith’s silence so much louder.

“I have to perfect it-“ suddenly the wooden log she sat on jolted as Pippin sat beside her to join in on the fire, his size almost tilting the wooden log.

The swordsman giggled but when her eyes strayed to Griffith, he wasn’t smiling. He was simply staring. Anxiety began to rise in her chest as she glanced away to focus on an attempt to have fun in this night.

Pippin suddenly sifted a jug of ail to her, as if he knew the tension brewing in the air between her and Griffith. The swordsman gave a half smile as Pippin, for how large and burly he was, he’s genuinely one of the most insightful members of the band. He somehow was able to spot her sorrow before she could fully see it herself. It may have been her expression that gave her away, yet no one but him ever came with simple pleasures to help with her stress.

“Thanks, Pippin.” She murmurs before throwing back the ail, downing it as if it were water.

Judeau gasped.

“Woah, breaking a new record for the fastest drinker, huh?”

She kept drinking until the jug was empty and beckoning calls of the alcohol began to have her body dance and sway in a drunken stupor.

“What can I say?” She championed with a quick slur to throw itself over her words. Suddenly Griffith stands, snapping everyone into silence with all their eyes on him. He walks away to his tent only making the swords master’s heart drop into her stomach. She was quick to hand pipping her empty cup, a signal to fill it with more ail.

When the flames died down and everyone settled in their own tents, she was outside of Griffith’s contemplating whether to enter or not. She stammered nervously while the ground below her swayed. Drunk and exhausted, she turned to leave only to hear the whispers of fabric from the tent.

Upon looking back, Griffith appeared just enough for the moon and amber light from the dying fire to mold themselves over him. He expected her to come inside and when she did, settling herself towards the corner of the tent in a feeble attempt to give him space, he was turned away, tending to his sword.

“What’s gotten into you now?” She asked

“Now?” Griffith softly asked in the blanket of darkness in the tent.

“Yes." A pause of silence settled over him as he glanced away from her.

“I’ve taken care of you since we were kids, I always looked out for your best interest beyond myself, tended to you when you were in need and somehow you negate that.”

Her brow quirked up as she stared at him.

“How did I ever negate that, Griffith?”

“Because you treat me like your dog and don’t even see it.” He hissed in a whisper.

The swordsman stared at him for sometime before sighing in frustration.

“I don’t treat you like one, you think you are for some reason.”

“Did what I just describe not sound like it?” His eyes widen as he glared at her. He looked haunting as the only light that slipped in was through the crack of the tent flaps. The faint amber light of the dying fire pressed on his angular features, making him appear even more irritated.

“Then what do you want me to do?” She asked, finally relenting. He stayed silent as he kept his intense gaze on her. He adjusted his swords as he turned away from her.

“Being grateful is a start-“

“I am grateful!” She yelled, nearly shooting to a stand in frustration.

“You aren’t!” A crazed expression showed itself before it quickly slipped off his face.

“You aren’t if you think that loyalty means you’re a dog to me! At the very least, I am to you. How could you think less of that?!” Her shoulders slumped as the heavy weight of guilt dressed her like an iron coat.

“Griffith, I’m not going to call you a dog. You’re my closest friend. You’re my savior, You’re family.”

“Its not about that. Its that calling you loyal somehow equates to being my dog? You’re labelling it like that then equates me to a dog in your eyes because I described what I am to you and what I’m doing for you.” Tears began to well up in her eyes as they threatened to fall.

“I… I didn’t mean it like that.” The swordsman croaked, “I just didn’t want you to believe you were a dog to me. Of course, I’m loyal.” No one saw this side of him but her. And even then, there was some sort of veil that covered him that fractured her gaze where she couldn’t fully see him in the abundance of all his forms and the layers he came with. She sniffled while the tears fell as she waited for his reply. It some form of approval she reached out for like a beggar parched for water.

“Don’t equate your loyalty to me to being my dog. Ever” He glared at her before turning back around to his weapons stowed away.  “You may retire for the night.”

Silently the sword master stands. She opened her mouth to protest before falling silent and turning herself to the night so that it may grant her some slumber.

It didn’t.

She only had retained 2 hours of sleep before the smell of morning dew reached her, and the birds cackled their same tunes. When Dawn showed its face to her through the parted flaps of her tent was when she was awake and exhausted. She crawled out from her tent, following the trail of the river, clothes tucked to her side as she figured the cold river would wake her up if she were to bathe in it.

The water was rigid, she was convinced she would die if she didn’t bathe quick enough. She quickly paced out from the waters, attempting to gather her clothes only to find a towel folded for her to use. Her eyes widened as she shot her glance around the forest line trying to spot who was around, quickly wrapping herself in the towel to cover her naked form.

When she had dried and dressed herself, returning to the camp she paused seeing Griffith was the only one standing outside. The answers dawned before her in his very presence. No one else would know she bathe this early. She simply stared at him and he stared back before she turned to her tent to put away her clothes.

“Are you ready to race?” He asked suddenly, her heart jumping to her throat as she stopped to the sound of her voice.

Read Next: Chapter 2

[nine-blessed-hero]

Writing Share Tag

Tagged by @aquadestinyswriting, TY!

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Tagging back (reminder this is DruidX's fandom sideblog): @aalinaaaaaa @ieppiq @wispstalk @rhikasa @eli-writes-sometimes @hannah-heartstrings @artdecosupernova-writing @mythrilpencil @aquadestinyswriting @reneesbooks @oh-no-another-idea @winglesswriter @pheita

Jenifer chewed her lip more, before answering, "Pistachio Matt said he thought he saw you on the news, something to do with that terrible situation in Holland, but Orange Matt said he was wrong, because you would have said something if you were involved, and no one wants to blo-ssoming ask you cuz they're a bunch of flowering cowards, and now you turn up on my doorstep and you're hurt and I am tired of not knowing anything." Aderyn's gaze slid to the crockpot. "We're worried about you."

Gave Aderyn some friends ^.^

(Jenifer's children are in the next room, which is why she's not directly swearing.)

In the first draft, Aderyn was very much a lone wolf, which may have been influenced by me writing it during the pandemic. But I realised while that might suit her drifter lifestyle, it doesn't suit her character which is garrulous and extroverted.

So I decided that she must have a broad network of friends all over the country, and some of them must know each other and keep tabs on her and each other with an instant messaging service. And if she has these friends, they're going to worry when she drops off the radar, with no notice, for over a week.

[ideklolwat]

Holy Daughter of the Heavens and "Blessed" King of Longing