#i'm not angry i'm fierce

[thefreelanceangel]

I never thought I'd see so much heated debate about rock salt crossing my dashboard, but here we are in the Year of Our Lord 2024

[llycaons]

oh so xena is so angry all the time because she's a lesbian who's terrified of going back home and being forced to marry a man for political reasons and instead she wants to live as honestly as she can and die here in the crusades before that can happen...oh god...

[mizulekitten]

I love the Case of the Two Dead Dragons ep for a lot of reasons, but the scene where they're talking to Twitchy Richie, like when they first start to mess with him is just so... perfect. Like the way Charles steps up and says "Ooh, try it, mate," his crossed arms coming down. And in the following scene when it shows just Richie & Crystal it's like "What's he going to do omg."

Except Crystal tilts her head with the stupid lighter in her face and it's Edwin that goes "Don't mind if I do." And Charles just looks so enamored and Crystal and Edwin are both so pleased with themselves.

I don't know. It's just the way they're working in tandem with each other for once. Not just with one another, but exactly in step. Crystal knew, without a word, that they'd play along. Edwin could've just let Charles do his thing, especially after what he said, after knowing they kissed (even if they broke things off right after). But it's like... Crystal is a part of their team now. He may not be super close to her yet, but they're both bitches /pos that of course this is the moment they fall in step. It's a shared trait that they were using to hurt and annoy each other, but now it's a bonding moment, a crossing of that divide between them.

So of course Charles lets them have their little moment and is so happy to do so. Whether it's queerplatonic or romantic, this is his best mate for 30 years and his new best friend. He knows they'd get along in their own way if they got through it. And here they are.

Perfect sync, not just Charles and Edwin, but Charles, Edwin, and Crystal.

[insteading]

People are complicated, right?

Someone can be a sweet little goldfish most of the time, yet be capable of being incandescently angry when threatened / hurt / defensive of someone or something important to them. The way they express that anger might be a bad idea, or might do more harm than good, but the anger itself isn't out of character.

[vulpinesaint]

i appreciate how fierce you are in your slander against blood libel the game. costing peace of mind to lead this battle, defending jewish and trans people along the way. you're doing amazing <3

anon i love you for real. this is very sweet, thank you 🖤 happy to delete stupid transphobic shit from my inbox for at least the sake of making sure my blog is a safe space for my trans and jewish mutuals if they didn't know that already. i'm carrying such an indescribable amount of anger over this so if you see me devolve into incoherent violence in the next few days just try and be niceys to me for a little bit haha <3

[princessefemmelesbian]

I got Mother Giselle. And I choose marry!

FMK: Dragon Age Edition

Spin the wheel to get a character.

Turns out Dragon Age as a series has a looooot of characters. This wheel contains 115 characters, both memorable and not, and is not exhaustive.

[kpmeat]

black dye is out. REAL insane ex boyfriends respond to the breakup by making their hair even blonder than it already is

[mistfallengw2]

Is today gonna be the day when I finally go through all of Aurelia's late warband's profiles, updating backstories and especially sorting out all the notes about what exactly happened during the one mission that nearly wiped them?

Perhaps.

[random-cattai]

RIP. RIIIIIIP!

Steam awards Best Soundtrack.

No, I'm not angry that Hi-fi Rush lost. I'm angry that you had legit THREE games on there with original soundtracks from the ground up and they LOST to fucking...

RRRGHGHGG

[gravegoer]

OMG sevika x reader who fills in for silco after he dies?? 🤍 but sevika is oddly shocked at her kindness—

Sevika's boss ꩜

i absolutely love this idea ! sevika pledging her loyalty to you whilst you pledge yours to her !! so this is how you met + how you treat her on the job.. and off (i fear silco didnt provide a safe work environment)

visit my masterlist HERE , part 2

Zaun needed a new leader, and you just so happened to be the second in line to the throne.

You had the option to throw Sevika out if you really wanted a different right hand man. But in your opinion, if she worked for SIlco; she would work for you.

You'd never met her before, only heard the things that Zaunites whispered about her on the street

" She took on three men at the last drop yesterday. I think Silco put her up to it. "

" The way she looked at me made me think I was going to meet my end. "

Silco was no gentle ruler, he was strong and fierce. You could only imagine how he treated his goons, and and only Gods know how he treated Sevika.

You sat in his office chair, displeased with the scattered papers on his desk and the old whiskey in a glass that now smelled rank.

You had called her in to have a chat, so that you knew who you were really working with. Not knowing what to expect; you watched as the door creaked open and you nervously drew in a quick breath.

In walked a tall woman, definitely over 6', obviously muscular with one prosthetic arm. Your eyes traveled up to her face, and now you knew why everyone talked about her gaze. It was steely and almost frightening. She looked you up and down with something in her eyes that you couldn't place. Her skin was littered with scars, the biggest one was smack dab across her cheek. How intimidating.

You spoke to her, firmly but gently, "As you know, I'm taking over for Silco until things can be.. sorted out-"

She cut you off with a brisk, "Get to the point."

You eyed her full lips as she said this, the gap between her teeth was more prominent when she spoke. Not to mention her husky voice, she sounded tired but with still a hint of determination.

"I'm not demoting you or anything, just so you know," you spoke while raising an eyebrow at her, "I just wanted to get to know you before I start ordering you around, y'know?"

She narrowed her eyes at this statement. Its obvious she expected you to immediately ask her to do things for you the way she did for her former boss. Always running around the city cleaning up his mess, fighting his battles. But no. You weren't Silco. There was something different in the air around you.

Now that you've officially met its time to put this girl to work !!

She was almost always available. This concerned you. If you asked for her presence she would be there within minutes. It was like she was waiting for you at the door 24/7.

This made you bring up off days to her, "You know, if you ever need time off or anything don't hesitate to ask me. I don't bite"

She was confused at your willingness to let her do nothing but sit around while you did the work. And even after you said this she never asked to be called off.

"Okay, you know what. If you're injured after a mission don't even think. About trying to leave your house," You called her in to run some errands but what she didn't tell you is that she got stabbed roughly in her side the night before.

This made her angry, did you think she was weak? You're making her take a break because she didn't do her job good enough for you? Trying to cut her pay by putting her out of work?

But no, surprisingly in the next few days you sent her out again, and when she came back you slid a hefty bag of coins her way. She questioned your ways but she wasn't complaining.

You tried never ask absurd or unnecessary things of her. If you needed to talk with someone in the city you would go down and do it yourself. She caught you out one day, talking to a shop owner about prices.

"Why the hell are you out without me."

You turned around to meet her eyes (also having to crain your neck to look up at her.) "Well, I don't need a body guard to walk around you know that right?" You said, tilting your head to the side.

She drug her hand over her face at this, "You could have asked me to do it for you, I'm free. Plus don't you know anyone could be trying to get at you? Are you an idiot?"

"I can handle myself Sevika. But if you're soo worried about me ill let you come next time," You teased before turning around to speak to the owner again.

She grumbled to herself before taking a seat in one of the old chairs behind you and crossing her arms. If you didn't know any better you would think a small embarrassed blush kissed her cheeks.

When you walked around in the streets with you she always walked behind you, looming over your shoulder. Sometimes you thought she would start barking if anyone came up to you. You slowed down a bit to match her pace before latching onto her arm.

Her body tensed at your touched and she looked down at you, though you didn't meet her gaze as you continued looking forward. The neon lights illuminating the angles of your face. She shook her head at your willingness to touch her, but didn't comment on it.

You felt the flex of her bicep when she tensed up at your fingers. Her arm was hot under your touch and you could feel the scars that littered her skin.

This became routine, when Sevika walked you home late at night she would get comfortable enough to drape her arm around your shoulder, her poncho sheltering you from the cold.

And yes, she started walking you home at night because she stayed in your office to keep you company whilst you did paperwork into the late hours. Saying, "Its the least I could do since you don't let me do it for you."

Lighting a cigarillo she sat on the couch, putting her feet up on the coffee table. The smoke wafted from her position to your nose, the smell oddly comforting.

When you groaned and dropped your head into your hands it was her queue to get up and pull your chair out from your desk.

"Its too late, you should get home."

Sometimes you'd fall asleep in at your desk, but this was no problem. Sevika would pick you up, gently as to not disturb you and carry you to your home. And she was careful to walk through quieter places in the city so that the hustle and bustle of people didn't wake you.

And yes she tucks you in.

If you really insisted on staying to do paperwork she would grumble a few curses but stay anyway.

You were starting to grow on her. Maybe being cuter than Silco gave you some brownie points.

thank you for reading ! if you sent an ask in the past few days, don't worry, I'm getting to them all :) I appreciate all the support !! ♡♡

[the-raindeer-king]

(A/N: This is part 2 to my Mama Riley au! Thanks for all the love on the first one. ❤ no content warning and I'm trying to keep this gender neutral. Enjoy!!!)

You never expected your angry rant to actually change Simon's behavior. But it has, based on Mama Riley's weekly updates. He's stopping by more, staying longer. He's actually telling her things, mainly about his coworkers, but she's just happy he's finally opening up to her.

While you believe her, you're not seeing the change yourself. Fridays are when you have dinner with Mama Riley, and now apparently Simon too. He just… stares at you, a permanent frown on his face. As if you're the one intruding.

Part of you is glad he doesn't talk much. The few sentences he does speak, the low timber of his voice makes your heart race. Behind the scars and unwelcoming attitude, Simon Riley is a handsome man. But your loyalty lies with his mom. He needs to be a better son, and some silly crush isn't going to change your mind that easily.

Ironically, it's said loyalty that makes Simon fall for you so fast. His loyalty is rock solid, a promise held steadfast, an ache he feels in his chest every morning. There's no one Simon cares more about than his mom, and to see someone else care so deeply and fiercely about her makes you so insanely attractive to him. On top of that, your concern for Mama Riley made you willing to say something to him, and Simon knows he's off-putting and scary.

What I'm getting at is that this man is so down bad, it's not even funny. He'd literally take you to the court house and marry you immediately, if you were willing. But you're not, and he's kind of clueless on how to convince you to give him a chance. He'd rather catch a live grenade bare handed than ask his mom.

His mom who clocked the crush immediately, and is trying to help him without helping him. Even if their relationship is strained (much better now thanks to you!), she knows her son, and she knows he has feelings for you. And while she's not trying to meddle, she is trying to create opportunities for y'all to interact and get to know each other.

Opportunities that Simon keeps fumbling because he clams up so bad around you. He's never been good around people in general, and his crush on you just makes it twice as bad. Plus, he's aware that you hate him, and that's not doing him any favors either.

Mama Riley gives him time to make an attempt, only to watch him struggle and usually fail. But the attempts he's making with small talk, bad jokes, bringing you small knick knacks from deployment; it seems to be working. You're both opening up to each other, growing a friendship.

But as the months pass, nothing grows beyond a friendship. You don't want to ruin things between yourself and Mama Riley. Plus, you're not entirely sure where Simon's feelings lie. He's just as weird and off-putting as he was in the beginning, just now he tells you bad jokes and calls you ‘love’.

And, while Mama Riley promised herself that she wouldn't meddle - Simon's a grown man after all, he should be able to handle this - it's almost painful for her to watch the way you and Simon dance around each other. Nobody here is getting any younger, and after almost a year of watching you two, she decides to take matters into her own hands.

Simon's two months into deployment, when Mama Riley invites you over for routine Friday dinner. You're barely one glass of wine in, when she drops the bombshell on you.

“You know, Simon's in love with you.”

[multific]

Moonlight 

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Wife!Reader

Warnings: childbirth (no detailed description)

Summary: Aemond loves his little wife, so naturally, when you give birth to your first son, Aemond falls in love even deeper. However, when a simple refusal of his breaks your heart, it will be difficult for him to win you back.

It was hard to keep you close. You were much like Aemond, a true fighter. You had a fire in you which couldn't be questioned. A fire towards him, pure love. And now, fire towards your son.

Aeren was only born a week ago, yet you protected him fiercely like a dragon.

And you refused to let the small child out of your hands.

When Aemond was allowed in the room, he saw the blood, he heard your screams and many times, he wanted to barge in but he knew he couldn't.

So, once he was allowed in, someone informed him that it was a boy and that you were in bad shape. 

Aemond could see it, you looked beyond tired, yet you smiled.

But your smile didn't last long.

Aemond refused to hold his son. 

"Give him to me." he heard your voice as he looked from the woman holding his son to you. You looked angry. Way too angry.

It was too late when Aemond realised what he had just done.

He refused to hold his own child.

And since then, you didn't speak a word to him.

You slept in a different room with your baby, sometimes, late at night, he heard the cries. He wanted to get up and go to you but he couldn't, his guilt was overbearing. 

"You should put a leash on her, brother. If I had a wife like that, she wouldn't be sleeping in another room." Aegon taunted his brother daily. 

One day, you were in the gardens, walking with your son in your arms when Aegon spoke up.

Aemond never heard his brother speak with such longing.

"I truly wish she was mine." 

Aemond looked at his brother who was watching you.

"But she's mine." was his simple and firm reply.

But you truly weren't.

You used to be, now, you just sat next to him during dinners. 

One night, you excused yourself, and he followed you.

In an empty corridor, he spoke up.

"Why are you avoiding me?" he knew why. He very well knew why.

"I'm sorry, My Prince." you turned and looked at him. "I believe you are mistaken. I'm not avoiding you, I just hate to see the disappointment on your face." this surprised Aemond. "I gave birth to a child you refused to even look at. I loved you, Prince Aemond, I truly did. But I love my child more. And if you cannot look at him, you won't get to look at me. Fill your bed with whores for all I care. Goodnight." 

"You are mistaken." he said, not letting you leave, but you did grab the handle. "You-You were in that bed, crying, screaming and bleeding for hours. I couldn't do anything. And when they let me in, the blood... so much... they told me you were weak, you survived but you needed a lot of rest. How-How could I hold my child when the love of my life almost died? How could I look at him when I was worried to even look at you? I feared you would die giving birth. I was shaking. I feared losing you and my child. That is why I didn't hold him. I was scared." you stood there, your hand on the door, you looked away from his eyes.

"Then you could have just fucking say so, Aemond! For fucks sake!"

"That is not very lady-like."

"FUCK lady-like, you made me believe you hate me and our son! I believed I disappointed you since you wanted a daughter."

"I said I would be happy either way. My emphasis was on a girl because I feared if you had a daughter, you would see that as disappointing my bloodline."

"You are fucking terrible at communicating." you opened the door and walked into the huge room in which you stayed the last couple of weeks.

Aemond followed you, and watched as you walked over to the small bed and picked up your son. "Next time, you should just tell me. Letting me assume things clearly don't work out." 

"Of course." a small smile found its way onto his lips, next time, it was the promise of a future, a promise of more, something he could work towards. He walked over to you after closing the door. "I wish to hold him." you handed him the small child who didn't even stir in his sleep. "Aeren you named him I recall." Aemond's attention was now fully on his son as you decided to leave the two alone after watching them for a couple of minutes.

You got changed and when you arrived back, Aemond was sitting on the bed, his son on his chest.

"Some nights I heard his cries. It broke my heart but I broke yours far more. I apologise for not being clear and for causing you pain. I am truly sorry."

"I'm sorry as well. I should have asked." you said as you sat down next to him. "I will have to feed him soon."

"I will stay here with you."

You smiled as the moon shined through the window, illuminating the room a little more, helping the fire so you could see your husband's face.

"I love you so much Aemond."

"I love you too, My Queen." you giggled, moving closer to him as he leaned down to kiss you.

You two kissed in the moonlight until your son made it clear that he was hungry.

It all made you look towards a better future.

Taglist: @castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse  @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @brascaris @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[nosyp]

here i am requesting a dae-ho x fem!reader smut where dae-ho is usually the sub but whenever he’s jealous he is a whole diff person 🧎‍♀️

Oh yesss, dae-ho is so underrateed. So glad i'm seeing some appreciation for him <3

Title = Possessed by Jealousy

Warnings = MDNI, smut🔞, angry sex, jealousy, possessive behaviour, forced kissing,

Pairing = Dae-ho (Player 388) x fem! reader

Summary = When you are forced to kiss Thanos at a party, Dae-ho's jealousy suddenly ignites a possessive side of him. Making him pull you away, and he takes control to show you just how far he’ll go to claim what’s his.

Word count = 1.4k words

The room was filled with chatter, but all Dae-ho could focus on was the scene unfolding before him. You were standing there, a playful glint in your eyes, as the party guests crowded around. They had dared you to kiss the purple haired man you didn’t even know and before you could protest, his hands were suddenly around your waist, pulling you closer.

It was meant to be a harmless joke, but the way he smirked as he cupped your cheek sent a rush of anger through Dae-ho. It wasn’t the kiss that set him off, nothing like that. It was the way the man touched you, possessive and too familiar. He could feel the jealousy rising in him the more the kiss went on. The look on your face clearly wasn’t satisfying and you definitely didn’t want it.

You felt the man’s lips on yours, his grip tightening as he deepened the kiss, and for a moment, you froze. You didn’t know how to pull away without causing a scene, but you wished Dae-ho, or even anyone was there to save you from this uncomfortable situation.

Just as the kiss lingered, you heard a low voice behind you. “That’s enough.”

The command wasn’t one you’d ever heard Dae-ho use before, but the authority in his tone sent a shiver down your spine. The next thing you knew, he was standing in front of you, his eyes dark with jealousy, his jaw clenched tight. Without a word, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you away from the other man and guiding you toward the hallway.

“Are you trying to make me watch that?” His voice was low, but the heat in it made your heart race. This was the side of Dae-ho you’d never seen before. It was possessive, intense, and dangerous. His usual submissive nature had vanished, replaced with a raw, commanding energy that took you completely off guard.

Before you could respond, Dae-ho had pushed you against the wall, his lips crashing onto yours with a fierceness you never expected. The kiss was hard, demanding, and as his hands roamed to your waist, you felt the weight of his jealousy pushing you into a whole new world of desire.

“You’re mine,” he muttered between kisses, his grip tightening around you as his body pressed against yours.

The air between you and Dae-ho was thick with tension, and you could feel the raw intensity of his jealousy in every brush of his lips against yours. He wasn't gentle like he usually was. No, this was something entirely different. He was going crazy, almost frantic, as if the kiss was his way of claiming you, reminding you and everyone else that you were his.

His hands slid down your body, gripping your hips firmly as he deepened the kiss. The urgency in his movements was clear. The soft, usually submissive Dae-ho was nowhere to be found. Instead, he was replaced by someone far more dominant, someone who wasn’t afraid to take what he wanted.

You gasped as his lips trailed down to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that left a hot trail behind. His breath was heavy against your ear, and his voice was a low, gravelly whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

“You think you can just let him touch you like that?” His words were almost a growl, and you could feel the fire in them as he pulled you closer, pressing your body into his. “You belong to me.”

Before you could respond, his lips found yours again, the kiss desperate and possessive, a clear message in every movement. Dae-ho’s usual shyness and soft nature were gone, replaced by someone fierce, determined to make sure you knew who had the power in this moment.

His hands moved with purpose now, slipping beneath your clothes, the fabric of your dress tightening as his fingers grazed your skin. You moaned softly into the kiss, and the sound seemed to fuel him further. He responded by deepening the kiss even more, his hands now roaming up to your chest as he pulled you even closer.

“I hate seeing you with someone else,” he muttered, his breath hot against your skin. “But I love how you look when you're mine. Mine. Not anyone else’s”

The way he said it made your heart race. His words weren’t just possessive, they were full of desire. And for the first time, you felt it too, the overwhelming attraction to the side of Dae-ho you had never seen before. You realized then that this was who he truly was. Someone who would do anything to have you.

As his lips left marks along your neck and his hands explored your body, you knew you weren’t going to escape this moment. The feeling of his lips on your neck felt so hot, his hot breath fanning over you everytime he lifted his face to kiss another spot. His fingertips rubbing soft circles around your breasts. 

Moans left your mouth as he continued his pursuit on you. Small, loving pecks being pressed on you while his hand snakes behind you before unclasping your bra and pulling off your dress completely. It revealed your skin out to the cold air, making goosebumps appear all over your skin. 

His hands were moving with such greed you kinda doubted if this was the same Dae-ho you knew. It felt like he was replaced by a hungry… greedy… lustful man.

Your eyes were looking around the room frantically in an attempt to calm yourself down. Everything felt so dizzying, from how small the room felt, to how tantalising his touch felt. Actually, nothing felt real. 

From past experiences, you knew Dae-ho wasn’t one to handle jealousy well. The moment he even sees you even talking to another person for too long, his demeanor would shift. It wasn’t a subtle change either. It would start by his brows furrowing, then his lips would tighten, and the air around him would grow tense. 

It wasn’t as if he outright confronted you or anything, but his silence and sharp glares made it clear that something was off. He would subtly pull you closer, acting more possessive and clingy, as if to remind you that your attention should only be on him. Even the slightest hint of someone else taking up your time would send him into a quiet storm of frustration, his jealousy always simmering just beneath the surface, waiting to erupt.

“Tell me you love me… hah..  Tell– me your mine!” he says, hips snapping with yours. The sloppy sounds of his member going in and out of you rang through your ears, only allowing you to focus on the present moment. 

You moan, unable to suppress the pleasure. “A-ah! I- I… mmhh! I love- you!” you squeal.

It was clear he wasn’t happy with you, but there was nothing you could do. The tension suffocated you, and every attempt to speak only made it worse. You were left to surrender, trapped under his cold, unforgiving sex.

“A-ah! T-tell me– you’re mine! God damn it!” he says loudly, almost a scream. The volume scared you a bit. You had no idea why this time was so intense.

“P-please! I- I-! I’m yours, Dae-ho!” the words start pouring from your mouth, your tongue rolling with each syllable. 

Your breath quickens as you give in to the pleasure, allowing your words to process in his mind. He pauses, his gaze hardening for a moment as if savoring the confession.

"Good," he mutters under his breath, then he starts grinding against you again. 

Thwap thwap thwap!

His skin cracks against yours every time he thrusts in you, the sound reverberating around the room. You could see strands of his hair starting to fall, slightly covering his face, but it somehow made him even more handsome. 

You admired his face, the sharpness of his jawline and the way his dark eyes bore into you, full of intensity. His nose, slightly crooked, added to the allure of his features, and his lips were just the right shade of pink, as if tempting you to get closer. 

Every inch of him seemed carefully crafted, but it was his eyes that truly captured your attention. Their deep, piercing gaze never leaves yours, making you feel as though you were the only thing that mattered in that moment. Oh how glad you were to be with him. 

One thing was clear though: Dae-ho wasn’t letting you go. Not this time.

[deunmiu-dessie]

(unedited) simon loves you, he's just not the best at showing or saying it.

"no, simon. you don't-," you swallow thickly and forcefully pull your wrist away from his grip. "- you don't get to leave and come back when it's convenient for you." your lips are set but they wobble, teetering with the storm of emotions brewing within you. "i'm done trying. i can't do, whatever this…this twisted game is between us." [i’m sorry.]

he's been silent your whole talk, he seems so stoic as if the conversation is a hassle- like he could care less; and maybe he could. you can never guess what simon was feeling. he was like an impenetrable wall, unwavering— even for you; it left you feeling alone most days.

your eyes flit over his face, hoping to see something, anything that would make you second guess what you were saying. but as usual, he’s unreadable; and tears well up in your eyes as you continue, your voice trembling with a mixture of something akin to pleading and sadness. "i've given you countless chances, simon. i've allowed you to come and go as you please, hoping that one day you would realize the love i have for you. but i can't keep living in this constant state of uncertainty, never knowing when you'll decide to leave again." [no more, never again will i leave you. i swear it.]

you take a deep shuddering breath, trying to steady yourself, but the pain in your chest hurts fiercely. it steals your breath away, and flushes your cheeks with heat. "i deserve better than this, simon. i deserve someone who will be there for me, someone who won't treat me like an option. i can't keep waiting for you to change, to finally see my worth." [i see you. i love you with every breath that i take. until my lungs give out.]

your words hang heavy in the air, you wait for him to say something, to tell you that he loves you, that he’ll do anything to get you to stay. say something, you think. "i've spent too long trying to make this work, trying to convince myself that your attention is enough. but it's not. it's never been enough." [say something! tell her you love her, that you'd die for her. say something, simon.]

a singular, angry and furstrated tear escapes, tracing a path down your cheek. "i deserve a love that is whole, that is unwavering. i deserve someone who will fight for me, who will choose me every single day. and if you can't be that person, then i have to let you go." [don't say that, please. i love you.]

your brows furrow and your chin sets, your hands coiling into fists. tears flow in rivulets down your cheeks and you lift one fist and hit his chest weakly. “say something, you coward.” you utter, your other fist raises to hit him once again. “i hate that i love you so much, i hate you for being the only thing that i think about. i hate you simon.” [i love you, so much that you're the only thing i think about. i love you _____.]

your punches get heavier but he's unmoving, a tic starting in his jaw. in a sudden burst of frustration, you shove at him, your lips pressed tightly together, and your cheeks burning. yet, he remains motionless, his gaze steady and unwavering. “say something, damn it!” you wail, preparing to hit him again, however, his large hands swiftly seize your raised fist before you can and he pulls you into his chest, cupping the nape of your neck and engulfing you in…him. "i love you."

and you know you shouldn't but you melt in his arms, go completely slack, and cry harder. “then say that.” simon presses a kiss to your temple, and you freeze at the tremble of his lips, his chest rumbling as he speaks again. “i love you so much.” and just like that, he reeled you back in, just like he always does; and it felt like coming home. the familiarity of his touch, the warmth of his embrace, it all felt so right, as if you were finally where you were meant to be.

but you knew that as soon as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, that the cracks in your situationship would begin to show. and part of you can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, you were fated to live this exact bittersweet cycle with simon until the end of time.

my eyes were sweating a little when i was writing this ngl

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 and their s/o—angry sex

Request: Hi, could you please do Ot13 and like having sex when they're angry? Like angry sex?

Content Warning: MDNI! Violence/abuse (emotional, physical, or sexual), strong language, explicit sexual content, non-consensual themes, intense power dynamics, anger, forceful actions, rough intimacy, depictions of intense emotional and physical frustration, themes of dominance, and control.

This is my personal opinion and perspective. It may not accurately reflect their real-life personalities or behaviors.

Seungcheol: His anger is a storm, quick to build and hard to ignore. You see the shift in his eyes, the way his muscles tense as he grabs your wrist, his grip firm and a bit painful. He pulls you toward him, "Beg," he commands, his tone low and unwavering. You comply, your heart racing in your chest. But his anger doesn't subside. He throws you onto the bed, his eyes blazing as he towers over you. He rips your clothes off, buttons flying everywhere, his hands rough and impatient. He kicks off his own pants, his powerful body taut with anger. Every move he makes is deliberate, as if he’s trying to ground himself in the storm of emotions, both his and yours. "Spread your legs," he growls, his voice a menacing snarl. "I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk straight. Until the only thing you can think about is me." He grips his throbbing erection, without warning, he Forcefully grabs your thighs, positioning himself between them. His entry is sudden and violent, a raw and possessive claiming that makes you gasp in both pain and pleasure. He starts moving immediately, setting an aggressive rhythm that shakes the bed frame.

Jeonghan: His calm demeanor is shattered, a rare flicker of irritation breaking through his usual tranquility. He’s not one for loud confrontations, but his cold silence is just as sharp. “You think I’m not angry?” he asks softly, his fingers threading through your hair with a touch so gentle, it’s almost ironic given the tension in the air. He doesn’t need to yell or demand, but his eyes darken with an unreadable depth. His movements are slow, controlled, but there’s a heat in his touch, a silent promise that, despite his calm exterior, he’s just as affected as you are. Jeonghan leans in close, his lips brush against your neck in a feather-light kiss. He presses you harder against the wall, his body molding to yours as if he wants to absorb you completely. Slowly, deliberately, he starts to unbutton his shirt, his usually elegant fingers clumsy with urgency. As his shirt falls open, he carries you to the bed, but instead of laying you down, he sits on the edge, pulling you onto his lap so that you're straddling him. He breaks his own rule, snapping his head forward to capture your lips in a brutal, demanding kiss. It's not gentle like his usual kisses. It's angry, passionate, filled with unsaid words and bottled-up emotions. He stands up suddenly, still holding you in his arms, and carries you to the dresser. Without breaking the kiss, he sets you down on the smooth surface, pushing your legs apart roughly. He kicks the dresser drawer open and pulls out a handful of condoms, ripping one open with his teeth...

Joshua: He’s usually the one who calms things down, the mediator, but today the frustration in his voice is uncharacteristically sharp. His hand grips your chin, forcing you to look at him. His thumb brushes against your lower lip, "I've been trying to stay calm... for both our sakes," His hands move to your waist, holding you firmly. "But you're pushing every boundary, every limit I have." In a swift motion, Joshua spins you around and presses you against the wall, pinning your wrists above your head with one strong hand. His other hand grips your hip, fingers digging in slightly as he holds you in place. Without warning, Joshua slams his mouth against yours in a fierce, punishing kiss. It's a battle of tongues and teeth, a clash of wills that leaves you breathless. He grinds his hips against yours, letting you feel the hard evidence of his arousal through his clothes. Not waiting, he pulls up your skirt, one hand trailing up your thigh while the other holds your wrists captive. His fingers find your center, stroking firmly through your panties. "I don't want to do this but you're not listening..." There's a vulnerability in him, though, as he softens, bringing you closer. His movements are steady, but there's an edge to them, as if he's both trying to hold on and let go at the same time.

Jun: He’s not as vocal with his anger, but you can feel it in the way his body moves. His eyes narrow, his jaw clenching, but his focus is on you—there’s no room for hesitation. In one swift motion, he pulls your hair harder, forcing your head back more fully. His other hand moves to your throat, not tightening, but enough to convey his meaning. "Tell me to stop," he whispers, his face inches from yours. "Tell me now, before I lose all control," Jun's hand on your throat tightens slightly, his thumb pressing against your pulse point. His other hand releases your hair, moving down to grasp your chin roughly. "Everything," he says, the single word heavy with implication. His eyes bore into yours, challenging, dominant. He pushes you down with surprising force, the tension in his body matching his mood. His control over the situation is almost unnerving, yet there’s an undeniable pull toward him, his need for dominance reflected in his every touch.

Hoshi: Hoshi’s usual bright energy is tempered by frustration. You know when he's angry, and it’s like a storm brewing behind his usually playful exterior. His voice is sharp, commanding, and his hands move with urgency. “Don’t make me wait,” he demands, his eyes locking with yours. The playful teasing from before is gone, replaced by a raw need. Hoshi's hands roam over your body, his touch almost frantic. He grabs your hips, pulling you flush against him, his own body trembling with pent-up frustration. His eyes darken with anger and lust, his body shaking with the effort of holding back. He kicks your legs apart, stepping between them. He looks you in the eye as he unbuckles his belt, his expression thunderous. Without warning, Hoshi lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He pulls down his pants and underwear just enough to free himself, then he's pushing into you with a single, brutal thrust. He doesn't give you time to adjust, setting a fast, punishing pace. His hands are locked around your thighs, pulling you down onto him even harder as he pounds into you. His face is contorted with anger, his jaw clenched, his eyes blazing. He looks like he's trying to punish you, or maybe himself. "Damn it," His body presses against yours with intensity, his movements fast, desperate, as if he’s trying to keep his emotions in check but failing.

Wonwoo: He’s quiet, his silence louder than words. The anger in his eyes is the only sign that something’s wrong. He doesn't need to say much—his actions speak louder. He pulls you close, one hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping your hip with bruising force. His lips hover near yours, not quite touching, his breath cool against your skin. His teeth graze your bottom lip in a slight bite as he speaks, voice a low growl. His hands move with practiced precision, one sliding up to grip your throat, the other pushing your thighs apart. Then suddenly, he thrusts inside you with a force that steals your breath, his grip on your throat tightening slightly. His pace is punishing, each thrust deep and hard, hitting a spot that makes your vision blur. His hand on your throat squeezes just enough to make you gasp, his other hand using your hair as a handle as he fucks you against the wall. His eyes are closed, his face twisted in a mask of pure, unadulterated lust. "Fuck, fuck, fuck,"

Woozi: He’s meticulous, even in moments of frustration. His voice is a controlled whisper, but the tension in his movements betrays him. He’s angry, yes, but his anger is laced with something deeper—a need to prove something, to both of you. His hands are steady as he undoes his belt slowly, deliberately, never breaking eye contact. He steps closer, backing you against the wall, fingers already finding their way beneath your clothing. Without waiting for a response, Woozi's hands slide your clothes off impatiently, tossing them aside. He presses against you, his erection evident through his pants as he grinds deliberately against you. His hands grip your hips tightly as he lifts you up, pinning you to the wall. His pants are pushed down just enough for him to enter you with a single, smooth thrust. He starts moving slowly, his controlled pace a stark contrast to the frustration in his eyes.

Dokyeom: His usual warmth is replaced with a fierceness you’ve never seen before. His frustration bubbles to the surface, and his grip on you is tight, almost possessive. “I won’t hold back,” he warns. Seokmin captures your mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue demanding, forceful. His arms wrap around you like a possess, and his hand grips gently squeeze you behind your waist, guiding your head back to expose your neck, biting down hard enough to leave marks. He spins you around and bends you over the edge of the bed, his large hands gripping your hips with bruising force. He leans over you, his muscular torso pressing against your back, trapping you beneath him. His hard cock nudges insistently at your entrance before plunging in with one powerful thrust. DK sets a punishing pace, his hips slamming against yours with each thrust. The sound of skin against skin and the creaking of the bed fills the room. He reaches around to roughly palm your breasts, pinching and tugging at your nipples. He then suddenly pulls out, flipping you onto your back. He kneels between your legs, his massive erection throbbing mere inches from your face. "Suck it," he demands gruffly, his voice strained with barely restrained lust. The intensity of his actions shows just how much he’s been holding back, and now that it’s finally out, there’s no stopping him.

Mingyu: His anger is quieter, but it’s there, simmering beneath the surface. He doesn’t need to raise his voice to make you feel his frustration. “You don’t get to walk away this time,” he says, his tone commanding yet soft. Mingyu’s hand gently grasps your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. His eyes, usually warm and caring, are now a deep, fiery red. He leans down, his breath warm against your lips. "Open your mouth," Mingyu slowly guides his thick, throbbing erection past your lips, his eyes never leaving yours. He begins to move, his hips rolling in a slow, deliberate rhythm. His hand gently holds the back of your head, not forcing, but guiding. "Use your tongue," As Mingyu continues to fuck your mouth, everything gets so overwhelming, your mouth stretched around Mingyu's thickness. You struggle to keep up with Mingyu's demanding pace, he suddenly pulls out of your mouth and flips you onto your hands and knees. He kicks your legs apart and presses his chest against your back, wrapping his arms around your waist. "I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk,"

Minghao: His frustration is almost passive-aggressive, but when he finally decides to take control, it’s in a way that leaves you breathless. “Do you even realize what you’ve done?” he asks, his voice dripping with frustration as he pulls you close. Minghao slowly runs his hands down your thighs, spreading them wider as he lifts you up against the wall. He slowly lowers you back down, teasingly rubbing himself against you without actually entering you. He continues taunting you with his length, pressing against your clit but never pushing inside. His voice drops to a husky whisper "You're absolutely desperate, aren't you?" One hand grips your hip tightly while the other moves to your throat, not squeezing but possessively resting there. His other hand spreading your thigh wider as he uses his knee to push your legs further apart. He's not entering you, just rubbing himself against you teasingly. He continues his torturous teasing, his hard length sliding against your soaking wet folds, but never penetrating you. He tightens his grip on your throat slightly as he leans in close "I could do this all night, keep you right on the edge, never letting you fall over,"

Seungkwan: His anger is explosive, a sharp contrast to his usual playful nature. “You’ve got some nerve,” he snaps. Seungkwan's hands ball into fists in your shirt, pulling you roughly against his chest. He glares at you with tears of anger pricking at the corners of his eyes, his jaw clenched "You always make it seem so easy to ignore me, don't you?" He spins you around and slams his fist on the wall beside your head, making you jump. He then wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you back against his chest, his hands roaming down your stomach possessively. He unbuckles his belt with his other hand. Seungkwan suddenly stops and takes a step back, running a hand through his hair. "...No." His voice trembles slightly between fury and frustration. "I'm not going to use you like this. You may piss me off, but that doesn't give me the right." He turns away from you, his shoulders shaking slightly. After a moment, he speaks again, his voice softer, almost broken. "Why do you always push my buttons? I never know if I want to strangle you or... or hold you." He buries his face in his hands. (🥺🥺🥺)

Vernon: He’s usually laid-back, but today the frustration is clear in his eyes. “I’m not in the mood for games,” he says, his voice almost cold. Vernon's hands tighten around your waist as he lifts you up as he walks you backwards until your back hits the wall. He looks angry, his jaw clenched, his eyes blazing. "Answer me," Vernon pauses, his body still pressed firmly against yours. He closes his eyes briefly as if gathering his thoughts, then opens them again with a piercing gaze. "Look, I don't usually get upset like this. But seeing you flit from person to person, never giving anyone a real chance..."He wraps his hand around your throat gently, not choking you but applying enough pressure to make you look up at him. His eyes are dark, almost black with unspent anger and unsatisfied desire. He pulls you closer, his other arm wrapping around your thigh to hold your leg higher. Vernon leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks in a low, rough voice. "You drive me fucking crazy, do you know that? One minute you're smiling and laughing, the next you're giving someone else your attention." He unbuckles his belt with one hand, keeping the other wrapped around your throat. He hooks his fingers in your waistband and pulls down, tearing your clothes off roughly. He kicks off his pants, revealing his bare lower half. He wraps your legs around his waist and slams into you, pinning you to the wall with his body. His hands are everywhere, holding your throat, grabbing your hair, pulling you closer. He kisses you hard, biting your lip as he moves inside you, rough and demanding.

Dino: Dino's hands shake as he grips your arms, holding you in place against the wall. He looks lost, torn between his anger and his desperation. He searches your eyes, seeking something, anything to anchor him in this storm of emotions. His gaze darkens, his frustration boiling over into something darker. He squeezes your arms tightly, his fingers digging into your skin. He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks in a low, rough voice. "You're always so fucking calm, so collected." His voice takes on a harsh edge, almost menacing "But I wonder what it would take to break that perfect composure of yours... Would it be my hands around your throat? The way I'd push you down and take what I want?" His grip on your arms tightens painfully. Dino suddenly spins you around, slamming your face-first into the wall. He kicks your feet apart and presses his body against yours, trapping you. One hand grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back painfully as the other snakes around to squeeze your throat.

[hcneymooners]

⋆ woman of my dreams, don't betray me.

wife!ambessa x wife!reader. men & minors dni.

synopsis: you and ambessa are wives, and your parents have come to visit the two of you. everything will be fine, or would've been if you mother hadn't brought up her desire for grandchildren.

cw: angst, angst with a happy ending, wife!ambessa, wife!reader, age difference, older woman/younger woman, sfw but suggestive content, emotional hurt/comfort, you're a little bit of a crybaby, anxiety attacks, discussions of children and pregnancy.

notes: i hate this so much, but ce la vie hmm? this is a drabble.

“Sweet girl, don't bite your nails. You'll be so upset later.”

“You'll just give me the money to get them done,” you mutter. 

Still, your hands lower from your mouth to tremble yet again over the dinner you've painstakingly made.

Ambessa moves behind you, her presence steady and warm against your back. Her hands settle on your shoulders, thumbs working small circles into the knots that have been building there all day. You lean into her touch despite yourself, despite the anxiety that makes you want to vibrate out of your skin.

“Will this occur before or after you protest against me giving you too much?”

A laugh slips out of you before you can stop it, and you turn to slide your arms around her neck. You take in the strong line of her jaw, the crooked set of her lips with it’s thin stripe of golden jewlery in the middle. You thumb at it, face flushing slightly as she nips at the tip of your finger.

“My nails have yet to cost five hundred dollars, Bessa.”

“I include the tip.”

“I must be incredibly generous.”

“You are,” she hums, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Besides, you never think of tax.”

“Tax?” You say in disbelief. “What tax would they be adding that costs that much? Honestly, Bessa.”

“You never know,” she says with a slow smile. “They could swindle you very easily. You have such a trusting nature.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you tell her, cupping her face.

"Talk to me," she says, and her voice carries that gentle authority that first drew you to her. You turn away, your attempts at misleading her thwarted. "Is it your mother again?”

You stiffen under her hands. "Among other things." The roast in front of you blurs slightly. 

You can picture her expression without turning around - that careful neutrality she wears when she's processing something that angers her. It's the same look she gets in meetings when someone has said something particularly stupid.

"And what did you say to her?"

"Nothing. I deleted it. I’ve never been any good at convincing her to leave me alone." You pull away from her hands to adjust a perfectly arranged plate for the third time. "It's easier than explaining. Than having the same argument over and over about how I'll change my mind, how I just haven't met the right person yet." You pause, throat tight. "As if you're not..."

"As if I'm not what?" There's an edge to her voice now, not angry but intent. When you don't answer, she gently turns you to face her. "Look at me, little dove."

You do, though it hurts. She's beautiful in the warm kitchen light, silver hair gleaming, dark eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that still makes your heart skip even after all this time. You see the question in them and can't bear to answer it.

"The table still needs-"

"The table is perfect. You're being avoidant."

A laugh bubbles up, slightly hysterical. "Isn't that what I do best?"

"No." Her hand cups your cheek. You can smell her: blonde wood, vetiver, pink pepper, dry vanilla. "What you do best is love fiercely and completely. And we agreed that that meant being honest with one another.”

She titls your head up, presses a thumb against your pulse. The action makes you almost confess the words that crowd your throat, threatening to spill out:

I'm terrified you'll realize I can't give you the family you deserve. That one day you'll look at me and see all the things I'm not, all the things I can't be. That you'll regret choosing someone so much younger, so much less certain of their place in the world. That my mother is right and I'm being selfish, denying you something fundamental.

But before you can voice any of it, the doorbell rings. Your whole body goes rigid. Your hands come to your sides and you’re back to shaking, neck burning with sudden stress. 

“I’ll get the door,” you say.

Your voice is rasping, as if you’ve swallowed down endless snakes of smoke.

‧₊˚ ⋅  𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅ 

Dinner is excruciating. Your mother talks about your cousin's new baby, about how wonderful motherhood looks on her, about how she's "simply glowing." You push food around your plate and feel Ambessa's concerned glances, even as she masterfully deflects conversation toward politics, toward her work, toward anything else.

But with each deflection, you can feel her growing more tense beside you - the way she sets her wine glass down with just a fraction more force, how her knife scrapes against the china with military precision.

"But really," your mother says, wine glass tilting dangerously in her hand, "I just don't understand why you two haven't started trying yet. Ambessa, dear, you must want more children? And you're not getting any younger-"

The fork clatters from your hand. "Mother."

You can feel your body pulsing with that sick warmth that comes with the rush of tears. You’re boring a hole through the dining room table with your gaze, eyes growing large and wet. If you were a lamb, you’d be bleating except your mother is the wolf so who will be the one to save you? 

Beside you, Ambessa goes perfectly, terrifyingly still. The kind of stillness that precedes a storm, that makes the hair on the back of your neck rise. You can see her hand flat against the table, the metal of her rings catching the light, and you know without looking that her face has taken on that marble-smooth expression that makes junior officers quake in their boots.

"I'm only giving you something to think about, my love. I’ve been you before. You think you have so much time, you know? It’s just—you've always been so good with kids, sweetheart. Remember how you used to babysit for the Hendersons? And Ambessa's children turned out so well-"

"Stop." Your voice comes out strangled. "Please."

Ambessa's hand sneaks under the table to grasp your thigh. The touch is slightly grounding but you can feel the tremor in her fingers - not from fear, but from restraint. You know she wants you to look at her, but then you'll really begin to lose it.

You'll spill over, right into her lap, because she always could unlatch your body in ways you thought were only for other people.

You catch the slight movement of her jaw, the way she swallows whatever cutting remark she wants to make. Because this is your mother, and Ambessa—for all her power, all her authority, because of the love—is letting you handle this your way. But the tension in her body screams of fury, of a woman forced to watch her beloved take wounds she can't deflect.

"I don't see why you're being so sensitive about this. It's a natural progression-"

"Natural?" You're standing now, though you don't remember deciding to. "Natural is me not wanting to vomit every time someone mentions me being pregnant. Natural is not having a panic attack every time you send me another fertility clinic link or baby clothes or-" Your voice breaks. "I can't. I can't do this."

You flee, ignoring your mother's startled "Well!" and your father's awkward attempt to change the subject. You're halfway up the stairs before the tears start properly, and by the time you reach your bedroom, you can barely see. The door locks behind you with a satisfying click.

You stumble to the vanity, clutch blindingly at your hair to yank out the pins. You feel out of control, your hands sliding up your neck and over your face.

A sob slips out despite you clutching your fingers over your mouth, and you press at your stomach until you feel the urge to dispel the mixture of your decayed dinner and acid that sits within it.

The bed. You need to be under the bed. It's childish and ridiculous but it's where you used to hide when things got too much, and right now everything is too much. You curl up in the darkness there, pressed against the wall, and try to remember how to breathe.

Time passes. You hear murmured voices downstairs, the front door opening and closing. Footsteps on the stairs - Ambessa's, you'd know them anywhere.

"Little dove?" A gentle knock. "Let me in?"

"It's unlocked," you manage, voice thick.

The door opens. A pause.

"Are you under the bed?"

"...yeah."

Another pause. Then, to your utter astonishment, you hear grunting and turn to find Ambessa - your tall, dignified, warrior-queen wife - attempting to squeeze herself under the bed frame.

"What are you doing?" you ask, hiccuping between tears and startled laughter.

"Coming to get you," she says, voice strained as she wriggles forward. "Though I'm beginning to think this bed was not built for someone of my size."

"You're going to get stuck."

"Then we'll be stuck together." She finally manages to get next to you, though she has to lie completely flat to fit. "Hello, sweet girl."

A rush of gratitude floods you and you press forward, drawing her into a soft kiss. She deepens it, sliding a large hand underneath your thigh and holding you to her. You part with a soft, slick noise. 

“You’re always meeting me where I am, even when you don’t understand,” you tell her. “Literally.” 

You gesture weakly at the whole predicament. The absurdity of it - Ambessa Medarda, covered in dust bunnies, cramped under a bed - breaks something in you. 

"I have this terrible secret inside me, and it’s that I feel so—so sick when I think about being a mother," you blurt out. The words slide out of you, like maggots from a rotting body. "Not—not your children, I love them, but being one myself. Having them. I can't. I won't. And I know you must want- but I can't, I just can't, please don't leave me.” You begin to sob again. “Please, Bessa. Please don’t leave me. Please. Plea-”

"Shh." She pulls you closer, awkward in the confined space but no less tender for it. You tuck your head into her neck as she soothes you. "Shh, my love. I'm not going anywhere."

"But-"

"I have two children," she says firmly. "Two wonderful, grown children who I love dearly. I have never once thought about having more. What I want - all I want - is you. Happy. Whole. Exactly as you are."

You're crying again, but differently now. "Really?"

"Really." She strokes your hair, rocking you as best she can in the tight space. "Though I would very much like to have this conversation somewhere with fewer dust bunnies."

You laugh wetly into her shirt. "Sorry."

"Don't be. I would crawl under a thousand beds for you. Even into a grave." She kisses your forehead. "But perhaps we could move on top of this one? My back is not what it used to be."

"You’re really not getting any younger," you quip, the onslaught of relief making you giddy.

"Watch it, little dove." But she's smiling - you can hear it in her voice. "Now come out before we really do get stuck."

“What if we stayed here forever,” you whisper, “and you never let me go?”

She releases you, then shimmies out from the crawl space. Gently, she curls a hand around your ankle and pulls you out with a sharp yank. You gasp as you emerge from your hiding space, hair spilling around you and your dress rucked up just enough to display your panties.

Ambessa leans over, drags the dress further up until she can kiss the swell of your breasts. She looks up you, face ever-calculating.

“I will never release you,” she finally says. 

It should scare you, the clear promise, but it doesn’t. You lead her hand to your throat, just to hold it there, and smile instead.

© hcneymooners.