#head canon romance

[deunmiu-dessie]

ⅱ ▬ ⁽ 𝑔𝒽𝑜𝓈𝓉 ⁾

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₃˖₈ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : mdni----- unedited, NSFW, dubcon, rape/noncon elements, explicit content, spectrophilia, ghost/human, rough sex, "unprotected" sex, creampie, somnophilia, cunnilingus. ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎: after coming home from a grueling day of work, instead of being able to relax, the feeling of someone watching you has you scared. ꒰m!ghost ₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

CLICK

𝒯 he soft glow of your lamp casts a warm yellow light throughout the desolate home, but it fails to dispel the darkness that lingers. You make a mental note, weariness seeping into your thoughts, to buy a new lightbulb from the mart later in the week. The dimness of the room matches the heaviness in your heart, as you feel the weight of loneliness settle upon your shoulders, part of you knows you should be used to coming home with no one to greet you, but it still stings nonetheless.

Struggling to remove your gym shoes, you let out an annoyed groan, exhaustion causing you to stumble and collide into the wall with a thump. Finally freeing your feet, you stretch your arms above your head and let out a tired sigh. Your muscles ache from the long day at work, and the fatigue seems to seep into your bones. Your eyes flutter closed from the effects of sleep deprivation but your stomach grumbles with a ravenous craving for a thick pastrami sandwich. The thought of sinking your teeth into the juicy meat and tangy mustard momentarily distracts you from the weariness that engulfs you.

Discarding your wool coat onto the carpeted floor, you shuffle yourself wearily down the hallway towards the kitchen, fully expecting it to still be a mess from three days ago. The cluttered countertops and unwashed dishes serve as a constant reminder of your chaotic schedule and the lack of time you have for yourself. It’s as if the mess mirrors the disarray in your own life, and you can’t help but feel overwhelmed by it all. At times you missed living with your parents and not having any responsibilities. Being an adult was so stress-inducing you just wanted to lay in bed and cry sometimes.

Leaning against the hallway wall, you find solace in pressing your forehead against the cool, flowered wallpaper. Sleep weighs heavily on your eyelids, momentarily clouding your vision and tempting you to succumb to its embrace. And just as your legs threaten to give way, a gentle chill dances down your spine, jolting you awake with a surge of electricity. A tired sigh escapes your lips as you run your palm down your face, mustering the strength to continue towards the kitchen. The chaotic mess that greets you almost makes you cry.

Resting against the entryway to the kitchen, a pang of regret washes over you. Deep down, and not even buried that far truly, you wish you hadn’t taken your coworker’s shift. Despite your fondness for the woman, working two consecutive twelve-hour shifts was more than you could handle. And as the new nurse in the hospital, you were an easy target for those who wanted to shirk their responsibilities, they left you to run around like a headlesss chicken.

You finally gather the energy to carry yourself into the kitchen, reaching for a cup from the cupboard and turning on the sink faucet, allowing lukewarm water to fill it. Impatiently you can’t wait for the tap to run cold and quickly knock back the glass, the satisfaction of quenching your thirst outweighs the temperature. Slouching against the sink, you take a moment to stretch, feeling your joints crack and your muscles slacken. You flutter your eyes shut to stop yourself from gazing at the mess that’s your kitchen.

Placing the glass on the worn countertop, you set your medical bag on the kitchen island and head towards the staircase, overwhelmed by the longing for a shower and some rest. However, as you approach the hallway, a sudden shiver runs down your spine, causing goosebumps to rise on your arms. Your legs momentarily go numb, and you manage to grab hold of the stair railing, preventing yourself from stumbling. After being on your feet for a whole day, you were shocked you had not immediately collapsed when you walked in the door.

A sudden sense of unease washes over you when you survey your modest home, the horrid sensation of being observed seeping into your skin and festering in your mind. It’s as if the feeling surrounds you, leaving you breathless and on edge. Your eyes dart between the dimly lit kitchen and the shadowy staircase, it’s as if the shadows themselves are in motion. Objects seem out of place, and didn’t you leave your bag on the island?

Confusion creases your brow as you search for your bag, it takes a while but you discover it leaning against the couch’s armrest in the living room. Your unease deepens, causing a slight twitch in your eye. The entire situation leaves you unsettled. Anxiously, you bite down on your lower lip, feeling the sting as your teeth sink into the flesh. Once more, the sensation of being watched intensifies, as though someone is observing your every move, listening to your every thought, and knowing your every action. Goosebumps raise on your skin, skittering down your back.

You shake your head in disbelief and pinch the bridge of your nose, the weight of exhaustion and hunger bearing down on you. ( the latter was something you would fix in the morning, as you did not have the energy to cook anything.) The darkness of the hallway only adds to your supposed delusion. With a heavy sigh, you push yourself away from the railing and begin the arduous climb up the stairs.

Stopping just shy of the top of the stairs, you reach your hand out and glide it along the cool walls beside you, feeling for the light switch— one may think that you would know where the light was in a house that you’ve lived in for two years, but you seemed to fail to find it every time. Your palm glides along the walls, desperately searching for the elusive light switch. It’s a futile attempt, as if the house itself is playing tricks on you. The anticipation builds as you inch closer to the top, your body tensing with each step.

Finally, the click of the switch echoes through the silence. But it’s not your doing. Panic sets in as you realize someone else must be in the house, but soon the hallway is bathed in harsh light, exposing every shadow and corner. Yet no one is there. You stare at your hand, questioning whether you had unknowingly flipped the switch.

Ignoring the fear that threatens to consume you, you force yourself to continue. Quickly, you make your way to your room, seeking solace behind the closed door. But even within the confines of your sanctuary, the feeling of being watched persists. It’s as if an unseen presence lingers, peering into the depths of your soul.

Your skin tingles in question as the ethereal sensation of fingers delicately cupping your cheek sends shivers down your spine (truly almost nonexistent). A surge of unease washes over you, even though you can’t see anything, you can sense an intense, ravenous gaze fixated on you. Shaking off the remnants of your episode, you take a hesitant step forward, determined to overcome any lingering apprehension. With a burst of courage, you scurry to your dresser and retrieve an oversized T-shirt, a memento stolen from your older brother years ago, along with a pair of plain black cotton panties.

No matter what strange occurrences were unfolding, you refuse to let them hinder your plans for a hot shower. The past twenty-four hours have left you covered in sweat and grime, and you are determined to cleanse yourself of it all.

With eager anticipation, you make your way to the bathroom, barely bothering to close the door behind you. Placing your clothes in the sink, you turn towards the shower, pushing the curtain aside to adjust the knobs and pull up the shower valve, spurring on the hot water. As the bathroom fills with steam, your breathing becomes slightly shallow, the heat causing your cheeks to flush.

Stepping back towards the sink, you gaze at the fogged-up mirror, your reflection blurred and distorted. Like a scene from a horror movie, you raise your hand and press it against the glass, wiping downwards and watching as the water droplets cascade lower, dripping on your discarded clothing below.

As your eyes meet your reflection once more, they immediately lose focus and fixate on the imposing figure standing just a few meters behind you. Towering over six feet tall, his muscular frame exudes a suffocating amount of dominance and power. A scream of terror and disbelief escapes your lips, and in a panic, you grab the hand soap from the sink and swiftly turn around, hurling it towards the intruder. The bottle soars through the air, crashing into the wall before landing on the tiled floor.

There was no one there; you were going crazy.

“Calm down. You need to sleep. It’s been a long day; your mind is playing tricks on you.”

You were just full of excuses, desperately trying to maintain your sanity. But surprisingly, those excuses provided a strange comfort, no matter how unbelievable they were. So, you decided to settle yourself down, shedding your work pants and kicking them aside. Your shirt and undergarments followed suit, as you let go of all inhibitions. In that moment, the fear that had consumed you was momentarily forgotten.

You gazed at your reflection in the mirror, taking a moment to wipe away any imperfections. Your eyes wandered down to your body, taking in the soft ridges of faint stretch marks on your breasts with your fingertips. As your palms venture lower, they lovingly caress your thighs, reveling in the velvety softness of your skin and the warmth that radiates from them.

With a shake of your head, you release a sigh of surrender, allowing your hands to fall gracelessly to your sides. You take a step closer to the inviting tub, parting the shower curtain to reveal the steamy water within. As you enter the embrace of the hot water, a soft moan of pleasure escapes your lips, the heat enveloping your entire being and melting away the tension in your muscles. This shower was exactly what you craved.

After diligently scrubbing your skin until it’s both raw (and irresistibly smooth), you find yourself sitting on the floor of the tub, relishing in the sensation of the water cascading over your hair and body. However, as much as you yearn to stay in the blissful sanctuary that is your tub until the water turns cold, you reluctantly acknowledge the losing battle against sleep that you’re already engaged in.

Carefully rising from the bathtub, you extend your hand under the cooling sprays of the water to twist the knobs and halt the shower, pushing the valve down afterward. Exiting the tub, you forgo the use of a towel and opt to let the air dry you while reaching for your toothpaste and toothbrush from their respective places. Relocating your clothes from the sink to the nearby shelf, you proceed to brush your teeth swiftly, counting to fifty before spitting and returning everything to its original position.

You grab your face wash and dispense a small amount onto your palm, with gentle strokes, you massage the cleanser into your skin, creating a lather that removes the remnants of yesterday morning’s messy makeup. Switching on the tap, you lean over the sink, allowing the warm water to flow into your hands, smoothly gliding it across your face and rinsing away the soap.

Your back divots suddenly with a delicate grace as an ethereal caress firmly grasps your sensetive hips, eliciting a startled gasp of surprise from your parted lips. Your eyes pop open, darting around in a hasty manner, well, stupidly, seeing as you hadn’t quite finished washing your face--- the remnants of soap trickling into your eyes. A sharp hiss escapes your mouth as you instinctively lower yourself to rinse away the discomfort.

Once more the tantalizing trail of fingers tracing along your spine is undeniably present. You remain still, your muscles tensing in anticipation, trembling as the touch ascends higher, encircling your neck. With trembling hands, you turn off the faucet and inhale deeply, attempting to steady your racing heart. The deep, seductive timbre of your name being whispered intimately close to your ear fills you with a bone-chilling terror. Quickly, you snatch your garments from the nearby shelf and flee into the sanctuary of your bedroom, momentarily struggling with the bathroom door.

“Calm down, calm down; this is not happening. You’re hallucinating.”

You erratically throw on your shirt, using it to also dry your face, and shimmy your panties up your legs, the soft cotton resting comfortably on your hips. You quickly crawl into bed and pull the comforter up to your chin, shutting your eyes and tucking your bottom lip into your mouth. (Your hair could wait, you were not getting out of bed.)

“Hey, Alexa, turn off: Bedroom Lights. ”

You can’t even recall switching on the overhead light, but honestly, you’re past the point of caring. The mechanical response plunges the room into darkness, and the moment your head hits the pillow (as comfortable as it can be when cold and damp), you’re fast asleep.

You’re unsure how long it’s been, but your eyes flutter open, heavy with sleep when you feel the sensation of large, calloused hands gliding up your stomach softly. The touch is unfamiliar, but it doesn’t necessarily frighten you as it should, instead, you can feel yourself throbbing in your panties, gentle and shy. You blame your sleep deprivation on the lack of fear.

The hands approach your bare breasts, a thumb rubbing over the taught peaks of your pebbled nipples causing a soft gasp to escape your luscious lips, your cheeks burning with fiery heat, and your body arching ever so slightly from the bed, offering your breasts to the awaiting, eager palms.

Your pussy, warm and slick, constricts and drools with your arousal. Maybe it’s the thrill of imagining a supernatural encounter, but you’ve never felt as aroused and eager as you do at this moment; dripping and throbbing.

You feel a surge of anticipation as your panties are gently shifted aside, a trail of your desire following suit. Ghostly fingers swiftly trail up your inner thigh, getting closer to your sopping pussy, and despite the uncertainty of the situation, the mysterious touch ignites a fire within you. The paranormality behind the sensation makes your heart pound and your pussy salivate with need. Lost in a whirlwind of lustful thoughts, a soft caress on your clit causes your hips to involuntarily buck, your lip bruised from the force of your bite. “Ah~”

Your voice comes out as a breathy, needy whine. The suspense of where and when the next touch will land sends shivers of excitement down your spine. And as soon as you're almost on the verge of begging, a rush of hot air sweeps over your dripping core, causing your pussy to clench instinctively. Your throbbing clit pulsates with an insatiable ache, lost in a haze of pleasure, and your eyes roll back, unable to fully grasp the intensity of the experience.

As the sensation engulfs you, your throbbing bud is devoured by their hungry mouth. The combination of their saliva and your own intoxicating arousal trickles down, moistening your tight, quivering entrance. The sensation is nothing short of divine, as if their touch is delicately fondling and slurping at every nerve within your shuddering body.

Your hips, moving with a will of their own, rise from the bed and writhe. You can’t help but squeal softly as firm, powerful, and large hands encircle your hips, forcefully pressing you down onto the mattress, indulging in your warm, sticky juices; skillfully teasing your clit with its tongue. Your cries and pleas echo loudly, a stark contrast to your usual quiet demeanor when having sex with men.

Oh, but you felt like a bitch in heat, like your entire being was engulfed in flames and burning you from the inside out— it made you want to scream and cry.

Your body trembles uncontrollably as the knot tightens, gripping your stomach, thighs, and lower abdomen. In a desperate bid for relief from the agonizing pleasure, you instinctively gyrate your hips. Your vision blurs and fades into a blinding white haze, signaling your impending climax. But just as you teeter on the edge of release, the touches abruptly cease, leaving you yearning for more.

You whimper and attempt to reach down to your soaking pussy to pat and rub at your engorged clit, but you unintentionally freeze in place; a small knot of fear causes your eyes to well up, yet it only intensifies your craving for its caress. When nothing further occurs, you start to plead, like a desperate whore— as if you hadn’t been touched in years.

And as if pleased, the ghostly caresses return to your sensitive clit, moving with a deliberate slowness that sends shivers down your spine. You can’t help but let out a series of soft moans, as you offer up sweet words of gratitude to the mysterious entity pleasuring you.

“Ah, yes, yes, please!”

Your body tenses as the knot tightens, aching with a mix of pain and pleasure. Your hips move uncontrollably, seeking more of that sweet torment. Yet, it stops once more, leaving you to come down from your ruined high. You’re a sobbing mess now, grinding against the air, waiting for something, anything.

Your throat constricts suddenly, leaving you breathless as fingers delve into your tight, dripping pussy, curling and prodding your spongey g-spot. The digits seem to know your pussy like the back of their hand, stroking every nerve inside of you. The squelching sound of your arousal drowns out your heavy breathing and mewling moans. The entity suddenly adds its thumb to the mix, circling your clit quickly. The pleasure escalates swiftly, and your eyes squeeze shut as a rush of pure ecstasy overwhelms you, leaving your thighs quivering and twitching from the deep, blissful climax.

After the high subsides, you pant for air, the tension easing from your throat. You sprawl sensually on your bed, clit throbbing and arousal coating your sheets. A tepid, exhausted breath escapes your lips as a thickness delicately nudges apart the folds of your pulsating entrance, prompting an instinctual urge to flee. However, unyielding hands firmly pull you closer, and your legs reluctantly surrender to their command.

You can feel a bulbous, mushroom-shaped tip forcefully penetrating your quivering, weeping pussy eliciting a mixture of pleasure and pain at the invasion. Your pretty eyes roll quickly to the back of your head as the unknown entity plunges its heavy, thick cock into your tight entrance, your thighs pressed to your chest and legs draped over broad shoulders.

You keen softly, as your pliable walls ensnare his cock in a vice-like, velvety embrace. “More, I need more; please fuck me, please.” Your plea is abruptly silenced as its thick length withdraws from within you, only to resume with an intense, unconventional rhythm—leaving you no opportunity to adjust to its entire length.

The unyielding grip on your waist marks you in the most delicious way, leaving behind a trail of bruises that only heighten the pleasure coursing through you. Your pussy feels so full and sated, despite nothing physically filling you, you throb with satisfaction.

Lost in the depths of your pleasure, the reasons behind your desperate pleas elude you, but you continue to spill them forth without hesitation, unable to think. Once again, your breath is stolen away, your throat constricts, and an intense orgasm surges through you like a forceful tidal wave. A delicious warmth then radiates from your core, spreading through your tummy.

The most painful and pleasurable feeling of being filled with cum has you aching for a taste of it. Your body goes limp, but whatever is fucking you doesn’t stop; their cock pistols into you despite you slowly losing consciousness.

As your eyes flutter open, you gradually rise from the bed. The room is shrouded in darkness, leaving you disoriented about the time you’ve spent asleep. Urgently, you rush to the bathroom due to your full bladder. Stepping out of bed, a gasp escapes your lips as your foot lands on a cold, damp object. Upon closer inspection, you realize it’s your panties. Blushing, you drop them and shake your head, with your hair still slightly wet from the previous night’s shower.

As you enter the bathroom, you opt for the wall light switch instead of the one on the ceiling, casting a gentle, warm radiance throughout the room. Oblivious to your reflection, you casually stroll past the mirror, too exhausted to spare a second glance.

As you ease yourself onto the toilet seat, your tired eyes gently close, and the tinkling sound of you using the bathroom lulls you into a state of sleep for a brief moment. A few moments pass, and you linger a bit longer before reaching for a flushable wet wipe, dutifully cleansing yourself before discarding it into the swirling abyss of the toilet bowl.

With a swift flush, you rise to your feet and shuffle to the sink to cleanse your hands. However, as you slowly open your drowsy eyes and catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror, a sudden chill runs down your spine.

As you gingerly raise your shirt, a gasp escapes your lips. The sight before you is both shocking and unsettling. Crimson and violet bruises, resembling the imprint of a colossal hand, encircle your throat, cascading down to conceal your collarbone and shoulders. As your eyes wander further, a gasp escapes your lips. Vivid handprints, a testament to an intimate encounter, mark your hips in crimson and violet, while a constellation of hickies adorns your tummy.

As you gaze into the mirror, you suddenly catch sight of a man standing behind you, from earlier. Surprisingly, he seems closer than the last time you saw him, and you can feel the warmth of his body through your shirt. He stands tall, with bulging muscles and an overwhelming presence that leaves you breathless. However, his appearance remains a mystery, as you struggle to make out his features. Just then, the bathroom door slams shut, plunging the room into darkness as the lights flicker off. Your heart skips a beat as you feel hands slowly trail up your shirt, eventually cupping your pussy.

His voice is like a warm embrace, wrapping around you with its deep, sensual, sinful, and amused tones.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

[heylittleriotact]

Emmrich tries reaaaally hard to stay quiet when he’s receiving head (that collected, disciplined facade extends into his sexual demeanour: he certainly doesn’t want to be seen as too much) and Rook takes that as a challenge: they suck that man’s soul out of his cock till he’s a gasping, moaning, whimpering, sobbing disaster and he understands that Rook gets off on him coming so delightfully undone.

[vaguely-concerned]

lucanis reading romance novels out loud to spite in the seventh attempt to explain to him what sex is and spite bemusedly being like 'wow you people really get up to that shit I thought that was just a bit mortals did or something'

[dobodleaday]

08.03.24 The Voice of the Distraught 💔

[buff-muffin]

Just had the mental image of modern AU Romance Dawn trio where Nami was the only one who had a bike and so they would constantly use her to get around town. Luffy either sat on the handle bars or more funnily, the basket and Zoro sat on the back but Nami got sick of peddling them around so she switched with Zoro. Problem was, Zoro had no idea where they were going all of the time. So instead of sitting back to back she had to turn around and give directions. And if Zoro didn’t listen, she would reach forward and YANK the handle to where they needed to turn. Luffy has fallen off multiple times through this and laughs every single time finding it hilarious.

[lunarharp]

What led to this (orufrey comic, cw an uncomfortable/creepy scene)

[littlexlioness]

Lucanis’s Head Cannons:

- This man loves the opera ( Not so much musicals, but the proper opera. Will try to take you to a show entirely in Antivan – forgetting you don’t speak a word of in and has to translate the entire thing for you. It ends up being a very cute date, as a whisper tibits bout characters and the plot to you quietly throughout the show)

- This man thinks flavored coffee is the devils work ( don’t look at me, I LOVE my Carmel macchiato flavored coffee as much as the next person – but this man is a purist who would gag at the idea of his lovely beans being covered with a fake ass flavoring to make them palatable)

- Can sew quite well ( you can’t convince me this man hasn’t tended to enough of his own injuries that he’s become very well versed with a needles and thread. Maybe he’ll even make something for Rook. The stitched would be perfectly spaced and stick straight but the fitting of any garment would probably be a mess. He should probably just stick to skin)

- He wears cheaters to read (obviously his far sight has to be 20/20 but there’s something I just love about the idea of him curled up with a cup of coffee, a pair of readers, and trashy romance novel.)

- Boxed wine is an affront to all wine ( I have a feeling if Rook brought this home, mostly to get a rise out of him, he would refuse to try it. Poor little rich boy, only drinking from crystal glasses and premium vintages. While Rook drinks box wine out of a coffee cup and thinks it’s heavenly)

- His love of reading came from not being able to sleep ( He liked to read before the Ossuary, but once Spite came into the picture he started reading more as a means to keep his mind busy, and to have something to focus on late at night when everyone else is already asleep. It definitely does not help with all his pinning after Rook – but he does get a few good ideas.)

- The tort idea absolutely came from one of his romance novels ( He absolutely read about it in a hurt/comfort romance about a jaded baker who doesn’t believe in love and the sunshine regular who adores his cooking)

- Asking Emmerich for the tort recipe was one of his top ten most embarrassing moments, especially when Emmerich mentions just how much Rook loves hazelnut ( right behind crying during his first day of training as a crow, giving that knife to Viago but to be fore scorned and the time the first talon caught him and Illario playing make believe wyverns as children when they were supposed to be studying)

- He taught Spite how to speak Antivan while in the Ossuary ( he had nothing better to do, and it kept his mind busy and present during some of Zara more difficult experiences)

- Lucanis loves and hates Mage!Rook being able to hear Spite. It helps that he’s not the only one who can hear the demon, but it’s awkward when creature forgets about decorum and saying something a little too honest or blunt. Especially if they’re trying to be romantic

- As much as he wants cooking with you to be a romantic experience, he can’t stand having another person in the kitchen when he’s cooking. There’s too many moving parts, and Rook always seems to be right where to he needs to be when a time goes off, or something needs to be done.

- This man has a sweet tooth, he used to sneak into the kitchens to learn how to cook (eat churros) you can’t convince me that he doesn’t have a secret stash of chocolate that he’ll break into for Rook after a hard fight or just a bad day.

- Loves to dance. This is non-negotiable, there is no way this man can’t dance. There’s no way Caterina raises this man and didn’t teach him every appropriate step in both ballroom dancing and modern dancing like salsa and tango. I’d be after coffee, and wine – his favorite date to take you on is dancing. ( brownie points to using Spite’s wings to do an impressively ridiculous lift too)

[temeyes]

random cod oc post, but anyway: their and Gaz's dynamic

[whateverthought]

House of the Dragon AU where Rhaenyra is raised as a boy, her birth kept secret for a while because she's sickly and Aemma has already lost a few miscarriages and a stillbirth and it doesn't matter too much since Aemon is Heir and Jaehaerys is still alive and Rhaenys is the one with eyes on her, but after Baelon becomes Heir everyone learns Viserys has a kid and when He dies and -another miscarriage,- Viserys becomes King he tells people he has a son, a small lie in all the chaos to smooth things over, to seem like a better prospect. At least till he gets an actual son. And then Aemma dies.

Otto proposes that his daughter, friends with the Prince already, be betrothed to Rhaenyra since betrothing her to Viserys wouldn't put his blood on the throne per se but the Prince? And he gets to override Daemon getting His blood on the throne? Que the Baby Problem(TM)

Que the Baby Problem. How do these lesbians women procure heirs for the throne? Rhaenyra's blood would have to be passed on, since any child born from Alicent wouldn't be a dragonlord but Rhaenyra being pregnant would make their hoax harder to keep up, having kids who look too different will cause rumors and if no one ever saw Alicent pregnant they'd start to wonder. That being said, I quite like them sharing the experience. And Rhaenyra has proven to be reckless and Alicent is easily swayed by her.

So we need a Hightower man and a Valyrian man. In comes Gwayne Hightower, a man in his 30s unmarried and with no children of his own in a medieval times equivalent. A man who essentially raised his nephew for his sister and cared enough about her to reassure her she was a good mother. I'm unsure who would step in for Alicent, Laenor- if he fell in love with Gwayne and had a Queers Help Queers relationship with the girls? But what would he get out of it? He couldn't be a Sworn Shield like Gwayne, Daemon? Too possessive, too power hungry, too obsessed with Viserys and hating Hightowers. Maaaybe Viserys since he does know and would do anything for Rhaenyra, and at least this way his other kids wouldn't threaten his first-born's claim to the throne and subsequently start a Succession Crisis.

Either way, when Rhaenyra is having her first child, she would have their first child so there's no confusion over who gets to be heir (if Alicent had a son first but Rhaenyra's first child was also a son it'd cause emotional problems cause they're both her sons buuut...) and Gwayne is a much easier solution to the problem. And they can hide away in Dragonstone and make excuses about Rhaenyra being overprotective because of her mother. The next would be Alicent's, to show the court that yes, Alicent is the one getting pregnant. And so on and so forth, their children would then be betrothed to each other to unite their blood.

Just Rhaenyra and Alicent, 'King and Queen' and their Sworn Shield Ser Gwayne Hightower and the other one, maybe a dragonseed who's Gwayne's lover? Wacky little medieval lesbians having a rollercoaster ride of a time making a family and running from court, the Velaryons, and Otto and Daemon.

[beaulesbian]

i've been thinking about some gender swap romance dawn trio - zoluna headcanons, specifically with he/him butch aro/lesbian zoro, agender & demi luffy, and lesbian nami

and in my mind they look like this:

[writing-for-the-gays]

The whole being dead thing

(MUSICAL) BEETLEJUICE X GN! PLUS SIZE! MORTICIAN! READER

Beej being really into the readers body, fat4fat bitches rise up. Beetlejuice is a tummy guy.

+nsfw

- Death was something you were well acquainted with. Working with the dead like it was second nature.

- and to you it was, underneath florescent lights and protective gear you felt at home.

- you'd had run-ins with the recently deceased, it wasn't uncommon, in fact a representative of the underworld had given you a couple dozen copies of 'handbook for recently deceased'.

- ghosts were just a part of your job, so when Beetlejuice showed up you didn't think too much of it.

- until he stayed around.

"So why exactly do you stay here with me?" You ask, hands busy gently applying a layer of foundation on an older woman's face. Beetlejuice hums.

"I just like the vibe."

- one night after a particularly rough day (even as a seasoned mortician some things can still get to you.) you smoked a joint in the car before you left the parking lot.

-irresponsible? 100%, but you don't do it often, so Beetlejuice is high-key surprised.

- you're his favorite breather, so of course you smoke weed! And also a lil worried, but he's not exactly sure why yet.

- you end up falling asleep in the car and when you wake up you're leaning on him, he's just kinda looking at you with wide unblinking eyes.

- like a cat focusing on prey?? But y'know kinda lovingly .

- acts differently from that point

- he stops staying there for the 'vibe' he starts saying he just wants to hangout.

- outside of being at the funeral home.

- at YOUR house.

- he still came and went while you worked.

- one night you spark up maybe a little too much, and are just a bit too touchy, and- ah shit he's hard.

- you kiss him; he tries sobering you up. You think he's mad at you. You fucked up.

- you wake up the next morning and Beej checks up on you, and you apologize like crazy and low-key confess.

- he kisses you this time and you reciprocate. And soon his hands are wandering all over your body, and he finds your belly and it's soft and squishy and he can grab at it and and and-

-he short circuits, he can't produce new blood you assume so when it goes to his dick he def gets light headed.

- lets out just this fucking noise from deep in his throat, he's so turned on man.

- you grind on him and he almost cums in his pants 🤩.

- your hands find his body, and you run your hands across his folds and just hold his love handles

- you fuck so hard that night you genuinely have to call of work because you can't walk.

- if you're trans masc he sucks T dick like a binki btw! Runs his tongue over the tip and slurps it down with the filthiest fucking noises, literally bobbing his head up and down, moaning when you pull his hair.

- T shots are followed by head, he can't go without it.

- trans femmes he sucks girl cock like it's his fucking job, will literally only come up to call you a good girl and finger you :3!

- what I'm trying to say is he's super good at giving head, and it's mostly bc he doesn't need to breathe, so he could go until your legs shake and you're crying 🩷.

- also takes it up the ass like a fucking CHAMP, whining for it and his voice literally cracking. (Oh God if you're teasing him, don't get me started, "you take my strap/cock so good pretty boy." "MORE PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE!")

- he pulls hair, scratches and bites, no you can't convince me otherwise.

-it sparks up... Interesting conflicts in your brain. "It's... not necrophilia, right? Technically??? You're dead, but not like... Dead dead, I can talk to you, and you can consent?"

- he's soft for you.

- but also you'll probably need to wrangle him into the bath.

[mcroutfits]

10/10 hot sheriff but i wouldn't trust someone who can't run half an apple without going out of breath what kind of training could he have

[sashthesloth]

I am wrapping them in a blanket and giving them access to a room with a bunch of pots they can break and yell as loud as they want after what I put them through

(Template by @cmndrshepardofficial )

[edains]

mass effect fandom loves to say "i don't see shep romancing ash/kaidan in me1 and then romancing someone in me2* after the horizon scene as cheating" even though y'all never established that there was an official breakup - and you get an email from them saying that they want to be able to work things out

cause you know, thats what mature adults do in a relationship - communicate and try to work it out

and yet AND YET they will get huffy at kaidan for going on 1 (one) singular date with a doctor because he was pushed into it by his friends who wanna help him try to move on 2 (two) double years of shepard being dead - and try to act like thats the same thing ... huh

i think the fandom needs to realize the game/some ppl saying "shep is a cheater in this circumstance" is not saying shep (for that alone) is a horrible person or irredeemable (or that they as the player are horrible for that) but as a flaw they need to accept and deal with?

but they can't accept that their shepard may have actual human flaws and do things wrong, or that there are characters who don't just blindly follow along with everything they do and kiss their feet at every circumstance

there are issues with how the horizon scene is handled - on shepard's end but everyone wants to make it the vimire surivor's problem for having a realistic human reaction to whats going on

*i will say i will side eye the romanceable in me2 me1 squadmates for being totally cool with getting with shep w/no mention of their previous LI - i think there should've been a small bit of dialogue there with some reservations abt it/shepard saying they've moved on from that relationship but hey! fandom darlings get away with murder lmao

[dullahandyke]

one thing i love about kh 'family tree' diagrams is it rlly drives home how little of the confusing 'who is who and there's two copies of this guy' stuff is related to family, which is i feel where a lot of that stuff comes from in other stories. you don't have a long lost dad, you've been possessed by this old guy. oops! there's no family legacy but you ARE a clone so gl with that! bbs eraqus situation obviously exists but even then it's not blood ties. the fact that blood ties almost universally mean fuck all is actually rlly endearing to me

[faerunsbest]

Every time I search for zevlor hc it's all about his bits.

I wanna know other stuff, how does he flirt? I imagine it's really subtle, especially if you don't know he's interested.

How does this compare to when he was younger? Do you think he might have been kinda wild in his youth and his military schooling straightened him out?

Was he sent to the military, or did he choose it?

We all know he has a big dick tho.