#wlw assassins

[lgbtpopcult]

Top 21 Video Games That You Can Play Gay (As a Woman)

Fields Of Mistria

The Walking Dead by Telltale Games

Life is Strange True colors

The last of Us 1 & 2

Baldur’s Gate 3

Assassin's Creed Odyssey

The Sims Franchise

Lake

Echoes of the plum grove

Assassin's Creed Valhalla

Stardew Valley

Rune factory 5

Mass Effect

Little Goody Two Shoes

Dear Althea

Gone Home

Sword of the Necromancer

Story of Seasons: Pioneers of Olive Town

A Summer's End - Hong Kong 1986

Dragon Age Inquisition

[detective-jane-rizzoli]

[centurion-art]

Absolutely loved working on these commissioned pieces for @aquila-v and you can check out their fic Wonders of Sparta here

[rosaart]

Study classical archaeology so you can make historically accurate fan art

(Kassandra & Kyra WIP)

[napping-sapphic]

Weather is nice which one of you wants to go on a hike with me and lovingly give me your hand to help me over any obstacles

[liyawritesss]

ʙᴇɪɴɢ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴇɪᴠᴏʀ ᴠᴀʀɪɴꜱᴅᴏᴛᴛɪʀ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇ...

Characters: Eivor Varinsdottir(Female Data String) x Black!Fem!Reader

From: Assassin's Creed: Valhalla

Type: Headcanons

Synopsis: When the Jarlskona of Raventhorpe sets her eyes upon you, there is virtually nothing you can do to sway her affection. What would a courtship with Eivor Wolf-Kissed entail?

Warnings: fem!data stream!eivor, cursing, game-canon violence, mentions of injuries and wound dressing

A/N: Started playing AC: Valhalla and honestly? Ubisoft don’t miss when it comes to this franchise. It’s been out for a bit now and it seems to be a bit dry out there, so allow me to feed the blk eivor lovers out there

Tags: @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @niyahwrites

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First and foremost, Eivor is an intense lover. There are no if, ands or buts about that. She’s lost everything and worked to regain it all back; her honor, her respect; and if she chooses you to be her lady, then best believe it was a choice made precisely.

You joined Ravensthorpe via trade - you were a fine seamstress looking for a settlement to call home. As you had a skill that could benefit yourself and the settlement, Eivor allowed your transition into the camp. She was impressed by your craftsmanship and with another winter closing in, the town would need all the best weaving and sewing it could get to brace for it.

After your first initial meeting, there were only fleeting moments of which the two of you would greet each other and talk. You were a joy to be around, always sporting a simple smile and engaging in Eivor’s jokes and combatting her sarcasm with your own. You were one of few people who could keep up with her and it sparked a friendship between the two of you.

Though you’d always had an eye for the jarlskona since your arrival - and honestly, who could blame you; the woman was large and brooding, carrying an air of mystery and absolute dominance while simultaneously being a comfort to you - there was a level of hierarchy that had to be maintained. Yes, she was attractive, but she was also your leader.

This is definitely a situation where one person falls first and the other falls harder. And while both of you are good at hiding your feelings (or maybe it’s just both of you are oblivious to the other’s affections), there was no denying that something was there.

Eivor’s realization of her affections comes when she receives her cloak back from you. She had asked you to repair it, as someone had ripped it pretty badly during a raid, because it was her favorite and she never left the settlement without it. It’s through Valka that you learn that the cloak is the last thing she has of her mother who was killed right in front of her when she was young. And while there was very little left of the original cloak to work with, you came up with a brilliant idea that you prayed wouldn’t end in her yelling at you for it.

You’d been wanting to make her a new one anyway, and with the torn one being the right shade of light brown you needed, you decided to use it on the hem and edges of the cloak, thickening it so that the frigid winter air wouldn’t make it through as easily. A wolf pelt was also sewn as the collar for the cloak, and hidden underneath it was a regular hood for when the cold was too much to bear in the face.

It was a fairly simple design, really, fortified by an extra layer of cloth for the cold, but to Eivor, it meant everything. When you handed it to her, she took her time analyzing your handiwork, tracing the edges and the hem of the cloak where it would meet at her chest, remembering the times her mother would hug her from behind in the same manner. Enveloping her in warmth, protecting her from harm.

There was a thudding in her chest that wouldn’t quiet until she returned to the longhouse. It was heavy and loud and unlike any emotion she had ever felt before. It couldn't be compared to the feeling of near-death, nor the ignorant bliss that came from downing endless horns of ale. She wished she could have figured it out on her own what the heaviness in her chest meant whenever she looked at you, but it took Randvi, her brother’s widow, to tell Eivor that she liked you more as just a friend. Whether she wanted to pursue something further than that, however, would be something she had to figure out alone.

In the weeks approaching winter you’d actually been working with Valka in learning skills to be a healer. She’d predicted that this winter would be bad with a lot of sickness, injuries, and deaths. Unfortunately, she was correct. Her cabin became overrun with injured raiders, and of course, Eivor was amongst the ranks.

Valka suggested that since Eivor had some pretty severe injuries (not to mention a history of hallucinations and visions she’d informed you on), that Eivor should be taken care of by you in the longhouse. It took a little bit of convincing of both you and Eivor (though once the healing salve had been applied to her injuries and she’d drunk a brew Valka made, Eivor couldn't put up much of a fight while she was asleep), but nevertheless, you’d started taking care of Eivor in the comfort of her room. To this day, you aren’t sure if she knew what she was doing when she suggested this arrangement, but you’ve always had your suspicions. They don’t call a wise woman wise for nothing.

Weeks went by and Eivor was making a steady recovery, having regained much of her strength and was able to move around on her own now. SO you started coming around less often, which saddened her. One night, while you were cleaning and redressing her nasty shoulder wound, she pointed out the exhaustion that plagued your face and asked you if it would make things easier if you spent the night, and to be truthful in your response.

You admitted that it would be easier, but you had no sleeping clothes and you would have had to travel across the settlement to get them anyway. Eivor offered up one of her shirts a bit too eagerly, though quickly covered it up with an ‘it’s what friends do’, which was a painful statement to say because after being taken care of a dotted on by you for the past few weeks, it became increasingly clear for her that she wanted more than just friendship.

She still doesn’t know what officially solidified it for her, but the moment she sees you in her linen shirt, a particularly large one that hung slightly off shoulder and created a pretty contrast against your dark skin, glowing against the candlelight that flickers throughout the room, she makes up her mind that she will ask you to be hers before the night is over with.

Eivor is no stranger to having to be quick-witted in timely situations, and this is no different. She formulates how she will pose the question to you, shuffling through different starting points, trying to also hold a steady resolve so that she can actually get to the question and not chicken out when things get hot.

Which is exactly what almost happens when you ask to take down her braids that she’s had in for god knows how long, too fixated on healing to really notice her hair needed attention as well. And when she’s met with your hands in her hair, it takes every fiber of her vikingr being to not lose focus.

You’re standing in front of her while she sits on the edge of the bed. You’re rebraiding the two side pieces she normally has in, and there’s talk of the events that happened in your day while you were out before you came to check in on her. You end up moving a certain way that causes you to lose your balance, you almost fall on top of her but she catches you before you do. A crisis averted…

…and yet her hands dont leave your hips. Eivor tries to pull them away, she really does, but she can’t help that they feel right being on your sides. And when you lock eyes the intensity of the atmosphere and in your stares all but thickens, and suddenly Eivor is at a loss of any words she thought she was gonna speak.

Eivor is a skilled warrior, hardened on the battlefield, mind sharpened from years of training and discipline, but it’s the slightest nudge you give her when you lean forward, when you’re looking down at her with your pretty eyes and full lips slightly parted, when you seemingly melt into her hands - its then that every resolve she has falls through the cracks, and she pulls you onto her lap, and kisses you through the searing pain that courses through her shoulder when she encourages you to straddle her.

Eivor is an intense lover. She does properly ask to court you, after catching her breath from the mindblowing kiss she’d stolen from you, and from then on, there’s not a doubt in anyone's mind who has the jarlskona’s favor. She prides herself in having you as her Lady, wanting to spoil you with the riches at her disposal but understands if being dressed up isn’t you’re cup of tea. She grants you the same respect that is expected to be given to her - you are her equal, and she will love you with everything she has until Odin calls her to Valhalla.

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

[archunzenygase]

shhh they r sleeping

[kiatheinsomniac]

──── 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 ˊˎ -

☾ ⋆ ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: a commission from the wonderful @magical-warlock who is always a pleasure to work with!! 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Kassandra of Sparta x Reader 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: canon-typical depictions of violence and injury

You check on the bread in the fire oven to watch it steadily rise, seeing how it bubbles up towards the sky and begins to toast golden, covered in some aromatic herbs that you know will go excellently with the dips that you have already prepared in the kitchen, covered by a cloth to protect them from any stray insects that might find their way into your home while your attention is elsewhere. The weather has warmed significantly as of late and so you don’t really have it in you to work over a hot stove for long and cook with whatever meal you would have going in the pot or pan. Today, dinner would just be bread with an assortment of meats, cheeses and fruits - you had not the energy for much else with the hot weather making the air hang heavily all about you, making your moves slower, sluggish, sweat glistening upon your skin. 

You make your way over to the basin in order to dip your hands into the water, rubbing its coolness over your wrists, chest and the back of your neck in an attempt to cool your body. Oh, how you couldn’t wait for this heatwave to pass over so that the weather can return to its habitual state. You could only pray to Apollo and Helios that they would soon show mercy but in the meantime you praise Artemis and Selene for the kindness and reprieve of their feminine and silvery moonlight as opposed to their counterparts whose sunlight beat down on you like the brunt of a mighty warrior’s shield. 

You hum a little tune to yourself as you work around the kitchen, preparing food for when you know your sweetheart will be done with her contracts. You used to worry for her safety but Kassandra is the toughest woman you know: she stands for no disrespect, she’s built like an Olympic champion. You hope that her skills will one day get the two of you off this island once she has saved up the money or made the right connections. The two of you whisper about it at night beneath Nyx’s blanket of stars, the glittering stars of her creations the only witnesses to the fantasies that you share between your lips. She promises that she will give you the life you deserve, beyond the limited borders of Kephallonia, that she will get a boat large enough for the two of you to sail to the mainland on. She will buy land and you will tend to it while she works on contract to bring home money to you, eager always to come home to her beloved wife; for she promises the two of you will marry and all the Gods shall bear witness and drink to your union. 

You smile fondly to yourself as you recall the memory, the sounds of crickets chirping in the nearby foliage, the soft crashing of waves on the local shore of the island, the salt carried in the breeze. You wonder if you will one day live so far inland with your love that you will smell the spring blossoms more so than sea salt, that Persephone’s return will fill the air more than Posideon’s rule. 

Kephallonia’s statue of Zeus is mighty but you have heard travelling merchants talk of temples upon great mountains; to Athena, to Aphrodite, to Apollo. You gaze upon the blue sails of Athenian ships and you wonder just how busy the city of scholars may be, you wonder what Sparta’s wall-free borders must look like from a distance. You think of exploring markets with your love, with Kassandra, knowing that no matter where you are, no matter where you go, you will feel hope so long as you can hold her hand, feel your fingertips caress her callouses as she squeezes your palm and fingers in return. So long as she is by your side, you know that she and her glinting, broken spear shall defend your life.

You have known that spear for as long as you have known Kassandra as the two of them are inseparable – she even sleeps with it upon the bedside table. You have joked time and time again that it will soon fuse with her palm if she does not allow herself a break from time to time. That is something you often worry about when it comes to the woman who has possessed your heart: Kassandra is an incredible fighter, the best you have ever seen – you’d put drachmae on it – but she didn’t know when to rest at times. You do not worry that she will be outmatched but you do worry that she will walk into a fight disadvantaged by fatigue, thirst or hunger. It is why you do your best to assure that you keep her well-fed and rested whenever you can, to entice her to stay longer with food, gifts, open arms and the warm embraces they can give. She is determined to leave and create a better future for the two of you but that future cannot exist if she works herself to death before it can be realised. 

Once more, you wander over to the oven in order to check on the bread, covered in aromatic herbs and turning a beautiful gold beneath the fire. Everything else is ready and waiting in the kitchen, as are you, for Kassandra’s return. You close your eyes and a smile dances gently upon your lips as you think of your love, of the lives ahead of you beyond the shores of this little island. It’s always wonderful when your misthios comes home. She always has a smile on her face as she shows you the drachma she’s made. You both pour over how it brings you a little closer to the mainland, a little further from Kephallonia and you’d enjoy seeing her muscles unwind and relax as she sat down and ate with her. This is the image you have in your mind when you hear footsteps approaching the door. 

But the little fantasy of your habitual domestic life is shattered when she’s leaning on the doorframe for support and there’s blood all over her.

“Kass!” You lunge forwards to help catch her, looking over her shoulder to assure that she hasn’t been followed; though, deep down, you know that she never would have come home if she knew that she had enemies on her tail, even if she were in a worse condition than she already is. It had happened only once and she swore to you that she would ascertain it would never ever happen again. “What happened?! Come, sit!” You find yourself panicking but try to get a hold of yourself. Your other half is the one who’s strong for you all the time but now it’s your turn to be strong for her. 

“They brought a lot more friends with them than I had thought.” She winces as she takes a seat. You could wash up the pillows later but for now you had to stop the healing and get her cleaned up. You keep a box of medical supplies for the instance in which this very situation comes to be. You take out strips of fabric to use as bandages and add pressure and you bring the basin over to the table nearby Kassandra so that you can begin cleaning away some of the half-dried blood in order to get a better look at what you’re working with. 

But her armour was in the way and so you began to pull at the straps and buckles methodically to cast it all aside. The metal rattles against the hard surface of the floor as it piles up; like the pillows, it too will need to be cleaned later. “So eager to undress me, γλυκιά μου (my sweet)~” She flirts and you can only return her bloodied smile with a half-hearted glare. How can she joke in a time like this when you’re fretting over her health? She only gives a little laugh at your sharp look and, as much as you had been angry a moment before, it calms you down. If she’s alright enough to make jokes then you don’t need to worry so much and, instead of panicking, you can carefully focus on tending to the misthios who has stolen your heart.

The faintest of smiles ghosts across your lips that had previously been curled down in an anxious frown, quivering with worry for Kassandra. She knows you better than anyone else who walks the world – she knew that some humour would make you relax, would make you realise that you could calm down and approach this with a much more level-headed manner. She trusts you with her life, she trusts you to nurse her back to health so long as she can drag herself to your doorstep. You endeavour to prove that her trust in you and your abilities is not misplaced. 

You begin by wetting a clean cloth and trying to wipe away the dried blood from her olive skin, already littered with scars that spoke of her history like the etching of legends upon stone tablets. Her muscles glimmer with the water-thinned blood as you diligently clean her up. Once you determine that her wounds are no longer bleeding as much as they initially must have been, you set to mixing up a balm with some ingredients that you have on hand in order to help the healing process. You apply the sticky honey mixture to her wounds and then wrap them in bandages to keep them clean. 

Your anxiety completely dissolves as you walk through this process with her and she looks at you with the warmest brown eyes you have ever bore witness to. As you kneel by her side, wrapping her bicep in bandages, your head dips down to sweetly kiss a large scar that runs over her shoulder. As you tie off the bandage, you lift her forearm to your lips to kiss yet another scar there. You reach for another bandage but are stopped by Kassandra’s alloused and worn palm upon your soft cheek, turning your head so that she can take in your face. 

You must be her very own Hellen of Troy, she decided long ago when she first met you. Kassandra sees you as a blessing from Aphrodite herself who surely must have sculpted you in her image so that you can walk this world as a testament to the existence of the goddess of beauty, only able to exist thanks to her divine hands. Now, the roughened pad of her thumb tugs gently at your pillowy bottom lip, feeling the warmth of the mouth that had just pressed the tenderest kisses to her peach-coloured scars. 

What did she do to deserve such a thing as sweet and beautiful as you in her life? What had she done that the gods had decided to usher you into her life as a gift of the divine, a sample of ambrosia in this mortal world? The corner of her scarred lips quirk up into a smile and your eyes flit between hers as you try to figure out what’s going on in her head. Kassandra then leans in and kisses you lightly, almost experimentally. She treats you like you could crumble to dust should she be too harsh on you. But once her anxieties seem to quell, she pressed her mouth to yours with much more surety and kisses you in a way that gives you just the briefest glimpse of the bottomless well of passion she harbours in her heart for you. 

You pull away by only a few inches afterwards, your warm breaths mingling, Kassandra’s eyes glued still to your mouth, wanting your lips swollen gently with her kisses so that she can leave a lasting part of herself upon you if only to be able to say that she was lucky enough to be born in the same era of one so brilliant as you who had stolen her heart right from the vault of her chest. You can’t help the soft giggle that slips past those very lips her eyes are fixed upon. You will yourself to pull away so that you can continue to patch up your lover. 

When you are done securing her in honeyed balm and clean bandages, you strip the pillows of their cases and begin heating up water in the kitchen so that you can clean them. Her armour can be cleaned and polished in the morning, you haven’t the energy to do that tonight too. 

“Come, I was preparing dinner before you arrived.” You beckon your misthios into the kitchen where the bread is finished baking and has now cooled and you have a variety of cured meats and some cheese with sliced fruits and a salad prepared. Again, it is not the most extravagant meal but the heat of the season has made you more lethargic than usual and so you didn’t have it in you to cook over the searing heat of a fire. 

Kassandra sits right by your side, her toned thigh pressed to yours beneath the table as she begins picking at the food you’ve prepared. It might not be a full-on meal but she’s beyond thankful for anything you make for her, especially after the day she’s had and how incredibly you’ve just handled patching her up after she stumbled through the door so wounded. You’re the beat in her heart, the breath in her lungs, the very electricity dancing through her every nerve and she might survive without you but she knows she could never live. 

She recounts her day to you and your heart stutters as she gets to where she suddenly realised how outnumbered she was. She managed to get away – as you know with having her sitting and telling her tale to you over dinner – but she hadn’t got rid of them all and so she wanted to see you on your guard when she is to go out in the days to come in order to eradicate the loose ends of her contract so that she can collect her money, your money, she insists as everything of hers is yours. 

She watches you with enamoured eyes as you clean up after the two of you, like you so often do. She rises from her seat as you finish up and tucks some hair behind your ear, pressing her lips to your forehead. 

“Go relax for a while, γλυκιά μου (my sweet).” She insists, her words mumbled against your brow as her nose nudges against you and her hands gently caress the swells of your hips beneath her palms. “I’ll run you a bath, you deserve it. Let me look after you now, alright?” Your brow furrows slightly as she pulls away a little to look down at you part your lips to protest – Kassandra is the wounded one, not you. Her finger presses to your mouth. “Shh. Let me pamper you? It’ll make me happy to care for you as you’ve done for me; as you’ve always done for me.” You release the softest of sighs. 

“Very well. Don’t strain yourself though, ok?” She affirms your condition with a nod of her head and you go to relax in bed for a while, curling up on your side. You can hear Kassandra moving around to prepare your bath for you, water sloshing and drowning out the more distant sound of the waves crashing upon the nearby coastline of the island. The scent of lavender faintly wafts into your nostrils as you lay with your head upon the plush pillow, your arms tucked under it to cradle it around your head as you lay on your belly with your body turned slightly to one side. You face the door so that you can watch your lover when she walks through it to fetch you. 

You had been terribly worried when you saw her covered in half-dried blood as she staggered through the door and, in the moment, you hadn’t realised just how much you were panicking until you looked back on it now. But you have patched her up, shared a meal with her, are now relaxing in the bed you share while she returns the favour and draws a bath for you. After a short while, you hear her footsteps patter into the room and she perches on the edge of the bed next to you, her weight making the mattress sink down. 

The misthios leans down over you and presses her lips tenderly to your forehead, beginning to pepper kisses in trails like waterfalls from your temples down to your cheeks, keeping an even balance on either side of your face: first the left and then the right. The corners of your mouth tug up into a smile as your eyes slip closed and you simply enjoy the feeling of her soft, scar-dissected lips pressing to your skin, her breath fanning over your face in gentle exhales. Her fingertips dance across the curve of your jaw, so gentle it almost tickles and you feel one of her arms slide behind your knees. Her other strong arm works its way beneath your shoulders and you let out a breathy laugh as she hoists you up in her arms. 

Kassandra knows you’re strong and capable enough to manage yourself but she always loved to show you that you should never need to use those capabilities of yours, that she will always be there for you. Never again would she allow a situation to come to be wherein you need to defend herself without her there standing in front of you to protect you. Her hands glide over your body to unfasten your clothes, letting them pool in a puddle around your feet. She spends a moment grazing her fingers across your skin as though it were the finest foreign silk or velvet that she had ever been given the privilege of feeling. Her lips graze across the slopes of your shoulders as her hands caress the plains of your waist. You feel the warmth of her muscular body press to your back for a while and her nose nudges against your neck, her breath and eyelashes tickling you slightly. 

“I love you…” She breathes out, unsure what else to say. The words cannot quite carry the weight of her emotions, taking only a small portion of them and carrying them over to you but she cannot find a single comprehensible way of phrasing just what you stir up in her. She does not think that any set of words in her vocabulary can possibly be strung together in a way that can contain her love for you. 

She pulls a stool up beside the bathtub and helps you ease into the warm water. The heat soothes your muscles and melts away much of the tension that you hadn’t realised you were still carrying in your body. Kassandra coaxes you to lay back in the water, hair fanning about in tendrils around your head and framing you like a halo. The word ‘smitten’ does not quite describe how she looks at you. She looks as though you are the sun Helios pulls across the sky, the moon Selene draws across the night, the stars Nyx cast into the sky, the Spring beauty announcing Persephone’s return to her mother. She cannot picture a greater beauty for her mortal eyes to lay upon in this realm. 

Delicately, she wets your hair and caresses her fingers across your scalp, massaging in nourishing oils and layering your hair in soaps. Consistently, she plants kisses across your face and smiles down at you. Kassandra leads a life that is full of action and violence; so long as she has a contract, her days are fast-paced and with little rest. That is, right up until she comes home to you. The moment you are in her vicinity, life slows right down and it seems she is finally able to catch up and catch her breath. You are her sanctuary and should anything fatal ever befall you, the Greek world shall see Kassandra possessed by Nemesis herself to see that your justice is realised. 

Her calloused fingers smooth over wet, scarred skin just beneath your right collarbone. It was the sort of scar that would never fade, that would persistently push the misthios to assure your safety. She was careful today in making sure she would not be followed home but it was a behaviour she had learned as a result of her past mistake. Once in the past, she had not been so careful and as you tried to assess her wounds, the door had been broken in by those who had harmed Kassandra. She had watched in awe as you took up a spear and shield that your lover had previously only thought of as being for display right up until those men were sent running, stumbling over their feet due to their injuries. It was the one time that you had defended Kassandra against danger and not the other way around and she would never forget it. 

Her throat tightens slightly as she recalls how the spear sank into your chest and in that split second when she couldn’t quite see where you had been hit, she worried that your heart had been pierced, her heart, the one you had given her. Thankfully, you had managed to put enough distance between yourself and the assailant that it didn’t go right through you but the scar was deep, prominent and the wound had wept with great amounts of blood. Kassandra could not recall a time in her life that the coppery smell had ever made her feel as ill as it did when she worried she was about to lose you, her other half. 

Now, she leans down and presses her lips to the wound in the most passionate of kisses, her soft mouth pouring her love over your marred skin. She swallows hard as she withdraws slowly, so overwhelmed by the feelings you stir up within her that she’s beyond sure Eros has shot arrow upon arrow into her back in order to possess her with the profoundest love she has for you. 

“So many legends are full of lovesick fools,” She begins in a quiet but sincere voice, “and I once sneered at them for their stupidity. But now I understand. I’d go to the Underworld for you, I’d launch a thousand ships for you, I’d face the trials of Psyche. I could say I’d die for you but I’d rather live for you.” A smile and a little giggle plays upon your lips as she pours her heart out to you like this. You reach your fingers out of the water and stroke some of her hair behind her ear, wetting it in the process just so you can get a better look at her sun kissed face. 

“When did you become a poet, hm?” You muse. 

“You bring it out in me.” She returns your smile and leans in so that your breaths mingle once more. Your other hand reaches out of the water so that you cup her jaw in one palm while the other rests at the nape of her neck, keeping her close to you. Meanwhile her palm has pressed over your scar from the spear while the other is cupping your cheek, the pad of her roughened thumb caressing over your soft skin in the tenderest of touches. 

“I love you.” Your words fall out on a breath, barely above the volume of a whisper. 

“I love you doesn’t even begin to cover it.” She flashes you that smile which makes your heart stutter and your belly fill with butterflies every time as she pulls you in closer and your lips melt into a warm and sweet kiss. You yearn for this moment to last forever and yet you cannot wait to tend to her all day tomorrow so that she can heal and the two of you, hand in hand, can take another step closer to the life that you will have beyond the borders of this island. 

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[pixievi]

Live footage of me trying not to make everything I write at least 1k

[poodle-doodle-draws]

Hey have my homosexuals for pride month ye haw

[galaxytoons]

not me giggling and kicking my feet because I was watching a wlw TikTok compilation and women are pretty shgshsgeheghsgshsghshdh

[echo-stimmingrose]

Random story idea I probably will never do anything with:

A king anonymously hires an assassin to take out the queen because he wants her gone but doesn't want to ruin his reputation to do it. The assassin starts by getting a job within the castle as a hand maiden and slowly starts making the queen trust her. However, the two women start falling for each other. But the assassin has never ever failed a job, despite her feelings. Besides, the woman is married and high royalty so she continues to plan her kill. That is until she discovers it was the queen's own husband who put the hit out on her and her plans change. At the time the hit was supposed to occur, she kills the king instead and the two women end up fleeing the kingdom together.

[infinitedivinity]

manon blackbeak x fem!reader

forbidden love, blueblood!reader, angst, relationship won't work out, she wants to protect you, break up?? idk I js like angst, I didn't reread it or edit it so it's raw

Manon didn't look at you once during lunch. She sat at her table with her Thirteen and she did not look at you. You tried not to feel hurt or betrayed by it, but her eyes lingering on Asterin as she spoke, and the way she bickered with a Yellowlegs from across her table, it made you feel invisible.

Yours and Manon's relationship had to be kept a secret, otherwise your punishment for your star-crossed romance could result in death.

You were an unimportant Blueblood witch. But Manon? Manon was the Wing Leader. She was a powerful, fearless witch with a reputation for slaughter and madness. Manon led her Thirteen into countless victories in battle, and you were as useful as a servant.

The lunch hour went by slowly, but you knew she'd meet you just below the mountain at nightfall, like she always did.

When the night came, you held your cloak tighter to your chest as your boots crunched in the dead leaves on the ground. Manon's long, silver hair shone bright under the moon. She was beautiful, just as she always was.

Abraxos seemed to notice you dirst, his jaw clicking in greeting. You smiled sadly as you reached a hand, in which he pressed his nose into, huffing warmly into your palm.

"Hello, Abraxos." You spoke softly.

Manon's golden gaze finally slid to you. She looked tense. There was a bit of distance between the two of you. You knew, you could feel, that something was wrong.

"You did not come last night." You said to her, "Or the night before." Manon's eyes seemed to dim as she looked at you, looked at your hand bunching your cloak to your chest.

"I had things to do. Duties to attend to." Was her only reply.

"You did not send a letter." Your voice rose with distane, with anger.

"I did not have time for it."

You scoffed and stepped backwards once, "Well, you used to." Manon blinked at you, a small sigh coming from her lips as she glanced away.

"You have nothing to say? You said we'd make this work." You argued, "You and I both knew the risks to this and all of a sudden you're flaking from the only time I get to see you properly?" You continued. Abraxos let out a soft whine at the sound of your arguing.

When Manon did not reply, your heart felt heavy in your chest, and your eyes began to water. "Manon. We agreed to this, and I hate it. I hate not being able to love you as loudly and as freely as I wish to. I hate not being able to touch you, to feel you, to look at you properly." You sounded like you were begging. You were pleading to her to tell you what was wrong.

You looked down at your boots and huffed. "Okay. If you don't want this anymore-"

"I want this." Manon interrupted. She seemed surprised with herself to talk about what she wanted with you. When you glanced up, her eyes were fixed on you.

"But our lives..." She closed her eyes, brow creasing, "Your life. Your life is in danger the longer we do this. Our families...our past...who we are..." When she opened her eyes again, they were filled with something like admiration, like undying devotion, like love.

"I want you safe. And the best way I can achieve that is by leaving." Manon finally said. You almost gasped, "That is unfair."

"Everything is unfair." Manon whispered harshly. "They will have your head. And I will never forgive myself for it. So, please." She sighed once more, putting a hand on the belt of Abraxos' saddle. "Go back to bed."

"You're being unfair." You repeated to her, watching as she climbed onto the back of her wyvern. "You're being unfair, Manon, you cannot do this to me." You said, gripping Abraxos' scaled leg as you watched her look forward. "You cannot just leave me here!" You yelled at her. "We will find a way, Manon. We have to."

Manon did not spare you a second glance as she kicked Abraxos' side, and with a whine, he moved forward, spread his wings, and they were airborne.

You felt the upcoming winter's cold closer than before as you watched them soar into the sky. She had come tonight to leave you. And alone you were for the rest of the night, walking back to your room with ice bitten cheeks and crystal tears rolling down your face.

[fear-and-loathing-in-ferelden]

[liyawritesss]

It has been brought to my attention that summer is right around the corner and I therefore will have no excuse to not be a whore.

That being said I have newfound inspiration to continue writing on this hellsite;

[yukispaceassassin]

Meet Nyda.

Nyda is Yuki’s toxic ex.

She’s here to seduce your girl and do crime, and she’s all out of crime.

(Uncensored version here.)

Artist: The always brilliant Satanya. (Twitter | Patreon | Hentai Foundry)