#wolves and wildfire

[squeaky-potat]

for the drawing requests, I would love to see Balthus & Holst - in their Three Hopes appearances of course! (i know those outfits are crazy detailed, so simplify as you need to!) thank you so much if you decide to pick it up!!

Thank you anon for your request! I enjoyed drawing these silly BFFLs.

These 2 are up to some shenanigans and causing headaches for Claude. 🦌

I’m still taking requests! If you’re interested in requesting a drawing in this style, please see my pinned post. ✍️

[headspace-hotel]

USAmericans

Read the Project 2025 manifesto RIGHT NOW

It's MUCH worse than y'all have been hearing

There is so much here you'll have to look at it for yourself, but the climate policy alone is nightmare fuel.

The republican coalition wants to essentially end funding for green energy, dramatically promote and expand fossil fuel industries, and eliminate funding and regulations in all sectors promoting climate change mitigation. Task forces and offices related to clean energy and lowering carbon emissions will be eliminated and replaced with offices for promoting fossil fuels.

They want to LOG NATIONAL FORESTS TO "THIN" THE TREES TO STOP WILDFIRES.

THEY WANT TO FORCE OREGON AND CALIFORNIA TO LOG THEIR NATIONAL FORESTS AND TREAT THEM AS FOR TIMBER PRODUCTION

There are specific provisions in Project 2025 to essentially destroy the Endangered Species Act, causing it to defer to the rights of "economic development" and "private property." The plan includes delisting gray wolves, cutting the budget so that a "triage" system is used to determine which species will get protection, removing funding for research, removing experts and specialists from the decision-making process, and preventing "experimental" populations of animals from being established.

This is so much worse than I expected it to be and there's much more past that: They want to deregulate pesticides and remove much of the EPA's ability to regulate pollutants as well.

Also included in the manifesto is that we should

withdraw from nuclear weapons nonproliferation agreements, build more nuclear weapons, and resume nuclear weapons testing

The manifesto comprehensively outlines the scorched-earth elimination of abortion access, down to ensuring doctors aren't even trained to perform abortions. There are plans in here to disrupt abortion access GLOBALLY, not just domestically.

Not only that,the Republicans plan on reframing family planning programs around "fertility awareness" and "holistic family planning."

I can't even describe it all. I'm trying to give screenshots of the most important things but there's so much.

The foreign policy is a nightmare. They plan to push fossil fuels onto the Global South and promote the development of fossil fuel industry in the "developing world."

It is aggressive and antagonistic towards other nations, strongly pro-military, proposing that we INCREASE (!!!!!) defense spending, improve public opinion of the military and military recruitment, and increase the power to fund new weapons technology.

Just read the Department of Defense section. It's about greatly increasing and strengthening the military-industrial complex, collaborating more closely with weapons manufacturers, removing regulatory barriers to arming our allies and to inventing new military weapons, and recruiting more people into the military. They include provisions to develop AI technology for surveillance. And of course, continuing to support Israel is in there.

Elsewhere it proposes interfering in foreign countries with creepy pro-USA propaganda campaigns, even establishing international educational programs where faculty have to pledge to promote USA interests.

There's a line in here about getting rid of PBS because SESAME STREET is LEFTIST for God's sake.

HOW are people claiming democrats have the same policies. I feel like i'm losing my mind.

[peachesofteal]

ghoap x reader / 18+ mdni / dark themes / masterlist

It’s the sundress. 

The way it flows off your hips, your body moving beneath it, skin glowing just under the hem. You're lucent in it, radiant in a way he's never seen, brilliance so stunning it catches his breath. You’re a perfect peach, juicy and ripe, plump and sumptuous, skin so soft he’d only need a nip to tear into it, the barest bruise of pressure allowing him to drink his fill of precious honeyed nectar. 

There are dozens of people in the café, but he only sees you, can’t tear his gaze away, sick with the heavy tug in his heart, drawing him closer and closer, fingers tense around the flimsy paper cup. He stares, openly, even after Simon clears his throat, scuffs his foot against the sidewalk, says his name. 

Johnny has no patience for a kill, or a meal. He likes to rip into fresh things, soak his maw and stretch his jaw around them, swallow them whole if he can.

Swallow you whole, if he can.

A bead of sweat collects at the back of your neck, and he traces its path between your shoulder blades and below, mouth watering at the singular thought of a taste. 

His tongue licking down your spine to the cleft of your arse, soft, sweet skin parted for him, face crammed between your legs, panting, pushing, desperate for more, and more, and- 

“Johnny.”  

“Pretty thing.” He barely looks at his partner, the heat simmering in his stomach curling into a snare. “Little pocket a’ sunshine.” 

“Johnny.” 

“Ye see ‘er?” Simon’s eyes dig into him, and then you, following the seam of your dress from thigh to shoulder. There’s insatiable insanity in his face, and Johnny knows- 

He sees it too. 

“I do.” 

“Ye dinnae want a taste?” 

“Not enough time.” He nods next door, where the darkness looms, waits for them expectantly. A meeting, a negotiation, a riotous push and pull. The things he’s good at, the part of his job that doesn’t include intimidating or killing or orchestrating a disturbance. 

His hands sow choreographed chaos, but in this moment, he’d rather they do something else instead. 

Pin you down. Pry your thighs wide. Bury his face in your cunt. Would you struggle? Would you cry? Would you take it like a good girl, breathy and sweet, lips shocked into a perfect O for his thumb, pad of it pressed down on your tongue, taste- 

“Better think fast.” Simon warns, jolting him from the fantasy that has his cock swelling, and when he sees you heading for the door, dreamy smile on your face, iced latte precarious in your grip, a plan roars to life. 

It’s easy, to pretend it’s an accident. Easy to act shocked and embarrassed. Easy, to feel terrible about ruining your dress. 

Your gasp is music to his ears. 

“Oh my god-“ it’s almost too much, watching the crushing realization sink in across your features, the dismay at the sight of your newly acquired caffeine fix rushing down the front of your sunflower dotted dress. 

They’ll buy you a new one. They’ll buy you hundreds. 

“’m so sorry.” He croons, reaching to steady you, carefully gripping your elbow under the guise of balance. “Ah, bonnie. ‘m so sorry, I didnae see ye and I was rushin’.” 

“It’s… it’s okay.” You’re blinking too fast, trying to hold back tears, trying to keep yourself together. The patchwork, the glue and tape, parts and pieces easily crumble, even as you try to take a deep breath. “I’m… it’s fine.” 

“Yer dress is ruined.” Obviously. “Let me pay to get it cleaned, at least.” 

“No, no… that’s… it’s okay. I’ll… I’ll just run home, no big deal.” He beats back the burn, the wildfire scorching away the last of his sanity. 

“Please.” Simon chimes in over his shoulder. “It’s the least we can do.” You look between them, confused, eyes wide like a little doe, lost all alone in the deep, dark forest.

Flanked by wolves.

“Or let us give ye a ride to yer place, so ye can change.” He jerks his head to the sleek black sedan, idling at the corner, driver still behind the wheel. The meeting can wait, they've got more pressing issues to attend, now. 

“Oh… uh-“ He can smell the rot of your hesitance. That’s the thing about a doe, they’re naturally skittish, trembling legs uneasy from the day they were born, nervous about their own shadow. “It’s fine, I can walk. It’s not far.” 

“I feel terrible, let me pay for it.” He pours it thick, and as expected, the guilt about making him feel worse locks into place. “I dinnae what I’ll do if we cannae help. If ye give me yer number, we can arrange to cover the cleaners?” Simon looms closer, fingers folding over Johnny's shoulder in an affectionate gesture.

You almost look relieved at the sight.

Poor little doe. 

In the end, you agree. When you give them your name, he traces over each syllable tenderly, memorizing the way it sounds on your lips, as Simon taps a phone number into your contacts.

"Ye go straight home an' change." Johnny murmurs, holding onto your hand a shade too long after you pass him back his phone. "Dinnae want ye walkin' around in a dirty dress all afternoon." You fidget, waxing crescent on your lips, and nod.

"I'll uh... I'll let you know how much it is." There's a hint of a tremble in the back of your throat, off key and off kilter, and he smiles to reassure you, before the two of them turn to take their leave.

"We'll talk to ye soon."

[assortedvillainvault]

Chiming in as someone involved in UK specific conservation and restoration of landscapes - we KNOW we're TRYING to FIX IT

Actually your society is the freaks for shooting everything that moves and burning half your "nature reserves" every year so that upperclass dandies can eat leaded pheasant. North Americans are the well adjusted ones here, your country has become a desolate suburban lawn in island form

[lovelyiida]

KATSUKI BAKUGO X SECRETARY READER • A 500 FOLLOWERS SERIES!

❥ SYNOPSIS: as the years passed, Bakugo came to the realization that he was the last among his class to tie the knot. As the days grew colder, and the nights became lonelier. Bakugo finds the desire to get married, but he doesn't really feel like falling in love. At least he has his trustee secretary!

implied fem reader, aged-up! Pro-hero MHA characters over the age of 27, vulgar language, suggestive wording and content

❥: CHAPTERS

❥ MASTERLIST

❥ JOIN TAG LIST!

WORDS: 4.3K

PS: Please let me know if you have filled out the tag form since the last update so I can keep up to date!!

CHAPTER 8: VULNERABILITY

PHASE 2: CONSOLE

“Beady-eyed, dog-mannered, dimwad!”

Headline, headline, headline!

PRO-HERO DYNAMIGHT EXPLODES IN ANGER DURING INTERVIEW

[unreleased footage from Pop! Magazine spreads like wildfire!]

Over 3 million views, and 10 thousand shares.

Since the dawn of the moon, you have been repeatedly refreshing the page. Each and every comment was scanned with frantic-fast movements. Relishing in this whole interview fiasco from the comfort of your queen-sized bed, you moaned in anguish.

Your face became increasingly hot as you read the comments with your third glass of wine in hand. As much as you thought the comments would be demeaning to the pro-hero, the exact opposite happened!

[COMMENT] Did you see how he took up for his secretary? Omg, that was so hot.

• 45k likes • 216 shares

[COMMENT] The way he took her hand going off the set!!!!

• 78k likes • 12k shares

[COMMENT] Oh god, send me a man like Dynamight…

• 57k likes • 2k shares

[COMMENT] Bro there’s no way they aren’t fucking

• 180k likes • 3.8k shares

Of course, that’s the top comment.

Staring at your computer, you tried hard to fathom the situation you were now slapped into. The video of you and Dynamight has gone viral, and everyone now suspects that you two are in a relationship.

And they're not entirely wrong...

Despite your late-night attempts to contact the fiery hero, your calls went straight to voicemail and your texts went unanswered. Letting out a large sigh that was once trapped in your chest, you had no choice but to sit there and let the bomb explode. And await the absolute nuke that was urging to be dropped at the office.

Staring at the messages you sent Dynamight, you scowled. “Flashy piece of carbon fiber pants thinks he’s the shit and can just ignore my messages? Leaving me to the wolves once again!” you shouted in anger. You threw your phone to the end of your bed and buried yourself in your plush duvet. Your throat becomes tight as your eyes are welled with tears.

“I’m gonna teach you, Dynamight, to never fuck with me or any other secretary again.”

The pattern of clicking heels and bustling conversations filled the office today. Usually, the bleak energy of Dynamight's office could be caught with little to no attention. But the sight you’ve seen today was out of the ordinary.

“The printers are down; just send emails!”

“Has anyone been in contact with Pop Magazine? They’re completely blocking our calls!”

“God damn it, I need a raise!”

The chitter-chatter amongst your coworkers is at an all-time high. As you started to quicken the pace of your steps around the office, scowls and stares were slapped across your face. Stepping foot by foot, you reach the bathroom and hide in the nearest stall.

The door bursts open before you can even think about taking another breath. “Can you believe Dynamight fired Hitomi and Sakura for telling the truth? I mean, the whole floor has seen the video! Even Red was speechless.” A woman says her friend snickers at her remark before chiming in.

 “I’d like to see little miss Secretary say something now; she’s not beating the slut-cretary allegations at this point–”

You didn’t know what came over you at the moment, but your feet began to move before your mind could comprehend what the actual fuck was going on. Slamming the stall open, you watch the two women flinched at your action. Eyes going wide, they stare into your soulless eyes, filled with an incomprehensible anger that you didn’t know was held within you.

“First off, let’s get one thing straight right now.”

You said it flatly, closing the stall behind you. You walked up towards the duo and closed in on them. “Me and Dynamight are not a thing; have you ever taken into consideration that I’m the only person who’s in charge of this man's reputation and career, as we both fucking know it?”

"So, of course, I’ll be hip-and-hip with the brute. Do you think I want that man in that play-pen he calls a fucking office? Oh please, Dynamight needs my ass because he can barely keep his head on every second of the day. So just maybe, we should all realize how valuable I am to all of your lives!”

“Because I know that if I wasn’t here, this building would be in flames, man-made or not.”

You spoke sternly with each huff of your breath, and the two women in front of you were left speechless. Your frown soon curled into a small twitch of a smirk before you spoke once more. “So excuse me for needing to be spoken up for. You bitches, have a nice day.”

Without looking back, your feet trailed confidently out of the boss battle that was the ladies' room and straight toward Dynamight's office. With each harsh click of your heels, you stepped closer to the office, your frown stuck and growing deeper by the second. Your coworkers took into account the drastic shift in your demeanor. From shy and outspoken to confident and ten cans of bitchy.

Without thinking twice, you throw the door open with a small huff and walk into the domain of the pro-hero. Closing the door softly, you turn at your heel and scowl at Dynamight. His amber eyes burn back at you with an almost unamused look, unphased by the absolute chaos ensuing beyond the Acia wood door.

“So what? Are we just going to ignore what the press is saying about us?” You said flatly.

“I ignored your annoying ass text messages pretty much the same way,” he snapped back slyly.

This asshat.

As you stormed towards his desk, you slammed your hands against it with a loud slap that made your palms sting. “Is it possible for you to actually talk about the issue and not be a fucking brat?” You spat with anger.

Dynamight's laidback/unbothered exterior soon crumbles in slow motion. From sitting back in his seat, he approaches you with a smooth motion, his eyes glowing amber-red as his elbows land on said desk. Looking straight into your eyes, a devilish smirk etches across his face.

“Say that again for me, Y/N; go ahead.”

Faces close to one another, you could feel the heat radiating off of the hero. You frown at his attempt at intimidation, snapping your eyes away for a single millisecond before you feel a strong, warm grip on your face.

“No, don’t look away now, pretty. Say what you just said to me again. Since you have all the audacity in the world today,” he said with amusement oozing from his tone. You groaned at the sensation of his hand gripping your face, swallowing down your fear. You spoke once more.

“I said, Man up, brat.”

A long-standing pause settles over the room as his gaze burns into your eyes. Suddenly, Dynamight stands up with one swift move. The blonde removes his hand from your face, you moan in anguish at the fade of his unsettling grip and stare into the blonde's eyes once more.

You watch as the hero points his finger at himself with a mischievous smirk,

“You wanna see a brat? I’ll show you a fucking brat!”

He brushes past you and storms out of the room. Shouting your name for you to follow, you quickly turn to follow in blood-curdling anger. You knew he was a pro and all, but there’s a statistic that for every 1 out of 5 chances, a villain can take a perfect hit at a hero of his caliber.

So you might take a chance and strike him at his weak point…

Preferably somewhere in the lower region.

You watch as Dynamight calls for an emergency meeting, calling for all staff to be in attendance. All staff from each agency scurry behind his steps, and even Red Riot follows suit. He tries to calm the hero down, but his efforts fail.

As the workers sat swiftly to hear the beloved hero's comments, your heart began to beat a new rhythm as the truth dawned on you about what you dreaded would happen next.

"So, I believe we all understand why we're in here. So let's address some rumors and set them to fuckin’ rest."

A sudden pang of fear hits your chest and seeps into your body as you hear the words fall off Dynamight's tongue and through the audience of your coworkers. Eyes scan the room until your eyes fall upon a certain red-headed main in the back towards the exit.

Letting out a soft exhale of relief, you speed your way toward Red Riot.

“Red!” You spoke aloud as you gained the attention of the other pro hero. His eyes snap towards you and he points towards his beloved partner in utter confusion. “What the hell is happening now?” He exasperates in exhaustion.

“He’s having a hissy fit because he can’t handle when the public negatively views him–”

“Negative?” He interrupted. You roll your eyes and raise your hands, completely giving up on the situation playing in front of you. “Dude bumped up 10 ranks in public favor, what the hell could he be upset for?” Red Riot spoke in confusion.

Holding your briefcase towards your chest, you sigh at the current baby of the hero stabbing daggers into your form.

“I…I’m not sure.”

As the assembly room filled up, every person in their seat watched attentively as they awaited the hero's urgent message. The blonde clears his throat before groggily shoving them in his pants. Silently pacing back and forth the head of the room with slow steps, eyes still trained onto you.

“I know what everyone is thinking to themselves, why the fuck are we here? Well, I need to address some petty rumors that are going on in the concrete hellscape.”

“All Might save us…” Red Riot groaned quietly as he watched in secondhand embarrassment at the Blondes' stunts.

"If you think me and my secretary have a romantic relationship, I'm afraid you're damn wrong.”

“Don’t listen to what I might’ve said in the past, or what I’ve said in the present. It ain’t true.”

Blah blah blah, blop blop blop.

You swore you could’ve seen physical bullshit fly out of his mouth.

“To prove this…I’m happily engaged!” The hero boasts confidently to the crowd of his workers. Shoving his right hand out of his pocket and out towards the expecting crowd. A diamond-banded ring shone brightly in the bright haze of corporate lighting.

Then, in a moment both shocking and surreal, Dynamight seizes the attention of the room with a declaration that sends ripples of astonishment through the assembled crowd. With a brashness that borders on audacity, he confronts the swirling rumors head-on, his words cutting through the murmurs like a lightning bolt.

In the sudden hush that follows, the truth is laid bare, raw, and unfiltered. The bombshell revelation of your engagement sends shockwaves through the room, leaving jaws agape and minds reeling. Eyes widen in disbelief as whispers erupt, spreading like wildfire among the stunned onlookers.

Yet, amidst the chaos, Dynamight stands undaunted, his demeanor unwavering despite the tempest of reaction he has incited. His confidence radiates as he confronts the storm of speculation with a rare candor, unapologetic in the face of scrutiny.

Calm within the midst of the business casual storm.

As for you, on the other hand, you could only think of one thing to do in this situation. Your feet rush towards the blonde with a speed never before seen, and your hand flies back as far as possible before landing a seething slap on the hero’s cheek.

Dynamight lets out a gasp of shock (and so does everyone else in the room) at your hit. You stood in front of the hero for only a moment before rushing out of the room and straight out of the office.

And now what was left of you was your body sulking under your covers once more. Leaving you to pick up the pieces of your self-worth once more.

You should consider just giving up, calling off the engagement, and leaving the industry for the rest of your life. A soulless desk job would be better than whatever the fuck this reality is right now.

So much for that speech in the ladies' room...

You tried hard to care for and take up for the hero you worked for, but at times like this, your vendetta only grew stronger. And the more your sister became right. But there's a voice in the back of your head that is somewhat empathetic for the hero.

Look at his family, for All Might’s sake!

An overprotective bitch for a mother, and an emotional father with no backbone.

(it’s okay for men to show their emotions!!!)

Of course, that would create a man with a lack of emotions and a soul-crushing ego to overcompensate for it.

Of fucking course!

Sighing into your pillow, you could only fantasize about the words you’d want to say to that man right now. 

“Tight pants, brazen-boned, bastard.” You grit your teeth together, as the words only make you angrier. “Beady-eyed, dog-mannered, dimwad!” You throw your blankets off your body and jump out of bed. Rushing towards the kitchen, you grab the fridge handle and swing the door open.

“Fuck!”

No beer.

Huffing out a defeated sigh, you eye the clock on the counter. It read 11:45.

Licking your lips, you ponder as you stare at the fridge and back at the clock. You might as well go out for a walk to cool some steam off. Shuffling over to your coat rack, you lazily threw on a hoodie and some slides. Grabbing your purse and your keys, you open the door to your apartment.

Rummaging in your purse for some convenience store coupons, you continued on your slew of words. “I bet he’s not even a real blonde, just a poser of a man-baby–”

“Hah?”

Eyes snapping wide from the voice, you jump back in shock as you see the man of the hour.

“What the hell are you doing here, Dynamight? Do you know what time it is?” You exclaimed in shock, mouth twisted down into a frown. You stared down at the blonde in anger and in utter embarrassment. Looking down further, you noticed he had a couple of bags in his hands.

Beer and chicken?

“Let me in, we need to talk.”

You scoff at the man's words as you throw your purse over your shoulder. “As if, do you know how you embarrassed me and you today?” You spoke with venom at the hero. Dynamight rolls his eyes before he speaks once more, “If it makes you feel any damn better, I made them all sign NDAs.”

You stare at the hero once more in confusion, and he stares back…unwavering in his actions.

“Okay, sure, do whatever you think will place a bandaid over this whole shit show for all I care.” Placing your hands on your hips, you watch the pro hero step towards you. “Yeah? Well, it's a pretty strong bandaid.”

You hum back in response before the both of you fall into silence. The both of you gazed at each other awkwardly, before tearing your gaze away. A light blush warms your face which makes you look down once more. Looking at the bags of fried chicken and beer, you look at Dynamights hand…

His engagement ring is still on!

“You idiot!”

Frantically looking around the outside of your apartment, you turn back and quickly open the door. You then hold the hero by the collar before shoving him inside. He follows suit with a grunt before shutting the door behind him.

“What the hell is your problem?” He cursed at you.

“My problem? My problem is that you come out to my doorstep late at night bearing a peace offering with your ring on, shining brighter than ever! Fuck-face!” You cursed back. This makes the blonde smirk at your complaint.

“If you think someone is watching us, then you’re pretty late to the party,” he chuckles.

“W-what?” you stuttered in anxiety, breaking from his gaze. You locked the doors and shut the blinds to your home. “Calm down; I paid them off a long time ago,” Dynamight rummages through the bags before setting the food and beer out on the dining table.

“Paid them off?” you asked.

“Yeah, they started watching you as soon as you pulled that stunt at the children's interview a while back. They were going to trample your door down just for a couple of gabs about me.” He spoke, cracking open a can of beer. The hero takes a couple of gulps before placing the can down.

Pulling out a chair, the hero sat down and began to speak. “You think you do all of the protecting when it's me.” He takes another swig of his beer as he stares into your eyes. You swallow a lump in your throat before you grab a seat as well.

“But you can’t say I haven’t.” You trailed off.

“Haven’t what?” He asked.

“Took care of you; everyone thinks you're this strong force to never be reckoned with, but you’re the complete opposite,” you rambled as you grabbed a can of beer and cracked it open. Taking a refreshing, much-needed swig.

Katsuki never responded.

“Y’know, it’s crazy how much this position has changed me. For the good or worse… I’m not so sure.” You spoke softly towards the hero.

“And why do you think that, Y/n?” He asked.

You bit the inside of your cheek at the question. “Before I came to this agency, I never knew what it was like to take care of someone besides myself. And even then, I was doing a shit job at it. My life was teetering on by a thin string.”

The room was silent, the only noises being the taping of Katsuki’s foot, the ticking of the clock, and the hum of your refrigerator.

“So what? You’ve never helped someone out before? Beating someone’s ass with your quirk? Nothin’?” Katsuki spoke, trying to understand where you’re coming from. But you could only let out a big sigh.

"Well, technically, I’m kinda quirkless.”

Katsuki’s tapping stopped.

He gave you a look you’ve never seen before; his eyes were growing soft and his chest began to fall. Like he’s loosening up or something. The blonde stared intensely at you, waiting for you to speak once more. Biting your lip, you continued once more.

“It's like it comes in little spurts, no matter how hard I try to concentrate and force it out. It’ll only come out at the randomest of times. I’ve never seen myself at full power before.”

“One moment I was just like you, young and so excited about my quirk. I grew up thinking that I was going to save the world and that I’d work hard and conquer my way to the top. But the thing is, as yours grew stronger, I was only getting weaker. And the next thing I knew, I woke up, and it was gone.”

“So I went through life with the mentality that I needed to give myself a bit more attention; I couldn’t just wing through life knowing that my quirk could save me. But I knew that if I could have a position of power, that would make me feel like I was making a difference out there for you of all people…”

You suddenly laughed at yourself, taking another swig of your beer.

“Sorry, I don’t even know what I’m saying, I’m already buzzed.”

“No.”

You looked at Katsuki as he spoke, a frown on his lips as he shook his head. You couldn't help but laugh at his demeanor. “All I’m saying is that maybe I wasn’t as cut out for this as I thought I would be. Maybe I’m meant to be a walking target that villains can smell. I’m a walking damsel in distress, honestly. If we didn’t meet through the agency, we could’ve met that way most likely–”

“Shut up.”

Katsuki deadpanned at your words.

“I knew someone who was quirkless, and that loser is stronger than me for all might’s sake!” He exclaimed.

“All I’m saying is that you have a good life, so be proud of it. You work hard, harder than I’ve seen most of the chicken heads that I’ve hired. So bask in that glory.” He says softly, you roll your eyes before you start up again.

“I have a good life? Says the multi-acclaimed pro hero Dynamight! Ranked number two out of the whole country, he drives a red sports car, lives in a nice childhood home, goes to a great school, gets to roll around in money, and gets to tell people how they should dress for five days out of the week? Right, my life is really good.”

You snorted at yourself, reveling in the truth you spoke. But all Katsuki could do was shake his head.

“That same person who you were talking about has almost died countless times, kidnapped in their first year of high school, and has lost too many friends and mentors to count. So yeah, I consider you to have a good life.”

You let out a bittersweet chuckle at his words, “There’s one more thing too.” You added on, Katsuki raised his eyebrows in amusement, “like?”

“You’re also the last to get married.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes and lets out an amused smirk. “Right, that’s checkmate for me–”

“How come you’re the last? I would think that you’d be the first! You’re not a bad-looking guy; you might need to work in the emotional availability department but. You’re crystal clear.”

“I uh…  I tried to do the whole young love thing but it didn’t work out in my favor.” He responded softly towards the touchy subject, but you decided to persist.

“And why do you think that, Katsuki?”

Back when Bakugo was a younger, newly emerged pro, there was someone of his caliber that he found perfect. They had the spunk, the quirk, the personality, the looks, even the barons. He believed they were perfect for each other.

He had his sights set on them since he had been working in the force. At first, they were a nice distraction. Clever banter turned into hot makeout sessions. Training days turned into blanket-covered nights where the both of them would talk about their future.

And back then, he believed it. He believed that he had a future with them.

Sometimes he would envy Kirishima; he didn’t understand why he wasn’t chosen to bear the burden of love. A warmth beyond his comprehension, a family that he could selfishly call his own.

Sometimes his mind would trail back to that night. A night that he wished he could forget. A thought that he wished could be locked away forever. He remembers the sight as he looked into their eyes—the utter betrayal.

The smirk of mischief and evil as the one and only person he ever could love has turned against him. The moment when he got stabbed in the chest, too close to his heart. And in that moment, he had to choose selfishly in a way he never wanted to.

And that choice was his life over theirs.

You didn’t know what to say at the moment, Katuski just dropped the biggest bomb you had the burden of holding. Stammering with your thoughts, you say the first thing that comes to mind. “I’m so sorry that happened to you, Katsuki…”

“I would’ve never known–”

“It wasn’t for you to know; I don’t even know why I told you that,” he said to himself. You softly smile at his harsh words.

“Well, not to toot my own horn but I’m your fiance,” you chuckled. Katsuki gives you a smirk before he looks at your hand. "Then, where’s your ring?” He asked.

“In my room, placed somewhere safe and out of harm's way!” you smiled.

"Well, I’m gonna need you to start wearin’ it more,” he retorted.

“I figured that after your little speech, you gave us away like you weren’t even trying.” You spat out sarcastically. “I didn’t even mention your name!” He raised his voice in protest. “Yeah? Well, I’m sure everyone connected the dots to a perfect fuckin T.” You spoke with a smirk.

"Well then if they decide to connect those lines to the press, that NDA will be there waiting for them to get bit in the ass,” he snapped back.

You laugh at his words before taking a final sip of your beer.

“Why did you choose to give yourself a chance with me?”

Oh, you were buzzed.

“You are a hero that’s supposed to date other heroes, top models, and superstars of your caliber. Why date some small-town secretary that doesn’t even fully have a quirk?” you spoke, just above a whisper. Scared of his next response. Feeling that as if you got the wrong response, you just might hurl all over him.

Katsuki lets out a sigh before he silently panders to himself. He was eyeing you up and down before he finally spoke with a smirk.

“I’m not sure, wishful thinking?”

“asshole”

YAAAAAAAAASSSSUHU IM BACK IM BACK

I saw all your comments begging me to come back, next chapter when? next chapter when? NEXT CHAPTER NOW HOE

As you all might know now, I am a busy college student who finally has time to fantasize and write to my heart's content. SO YOU WILL BE GETTING MORE CHAPTERS OUT OF ME VERY SOON!!

Thank you all so much for the support, I love you all and hope you guys have an amazing read! Please let me know how I did in the comments. Comments and reposts are very much appreciated!!

— lovelyiida 

❥: @xo-evangeline, @inlovewithteo217, @im-better-than-your-newborn, @nar00, @king-dynamight, @gold24fish, @xasilex, @the-queen-of-sorrows , @itgetzweird08 , @yoyosocks165 , @pebblepoop , @lovra974 , @bakugospartner , @gaby-11 , @akqsa-xxi , @jolynegf , @goldenglow149 , @aliruuiz , @zukowantshishonourback , @ilovedenk-i , @atsushiki , @smolbeanzzz , @lem-hhn , @stevenknightmarc , @katsu-shi , @ryumiii , @idontevenknowlolls , @lyn07 , @kennshifts , @ackerman-suck-3-r , @alicen23 , @xasilex , @elegantvoids , @lowkeyremi , @plutounderbridges , @k0z3me , @thecurlyhairedgoddess , @sunyrose , @winterv-black , @chuugarettes , @kiarathace , @thisbicc , @thekookiecorner , @hyu-hl , @katsukisxslut , @optimisticprime3 , @cosmicbreathe , @yessimo , @sanemishina , @snxwycloud , @cosmic-rainstorm , @vinivave , @venus-xxoo , @lavender99 , @iluv-ace , @artfulthoughtsblog , @thatcreepycat , @prettylittleshady , @lavalampfullofsoup, @melodykittya , @bakugoiidaswaifu, @queendynamite2001, @starxsage, @mikestuffffs, @queendynamite2001, @kazuumii, @Minori-taiga1, @Liveurlifetothefullest

[novaursa]

The Black Dragon's Claim (runaway)

- Summary: Daemon steals you on your nameday, and the realm is never the same.

- Paring: targ!reader/Daemon I Blackfyre

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Previous part: 1

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The night air stings against your skin as Daemon’s horse thunders across the darkened plains, carrying you further from the Red Keep and deeper into the heart of rebellion. The wind howls, the stars above bright yet cold, as if they bear witness to the scandal that has just unfolded. You clutch Daemon’s cloak to keep from slipping, your body pressed tightly against his. Each thunderous beat of the horse’s hooves mirrors the frantic rhythm of your heart.

His men ride close behind, a shadowy army escorting their prince and his prize—the Targaryen princess now stolen from the very heart of King’s Landing. You know that soon the news will spread like wildfire. Every noble house, every smallfolk in the streets will hear the tale: Daemon Blackfyre has claimed you. The realm will break in half, some in outrage, others in fervent support of the man who now holds you close.

You should be terrified. You should be furious. And yet, a part of you feels alive, more alive than ever before.

The ride is long, the silence heavy, save for the pounding of hooves and the distant howl of wolves. You finally dare to speak, your voice trembling just enough to betray your shock.

"Daemon, what have you done?"

His grip on the reins tightens, and for a moment, he does not respond. Then, in that voice that has always unnerved and drawn you, he answers, “What was necessary.”

You narrow your eyes, your breath coming faster. “You’ve stolen me. Do you think the realm will let this stand?”

He laughs softly, a sound dark and dangerous. “Let the realm try to stop me. They’ve always wanted to see us broken, but now I hold the most precious prize.” He glances down at you, his gaze burning in the moonlight. “You, my love, are the symbol they will rally behind.”

You want to argue, to fight against the fire that rages between you. But deep down, you know he’s right. You’ve always been loved by the people, a daughter of the dragonblood, the one untouched by the ugliness of court politics. Daemon taking you as his bride will divide loyalties across the realm. But what is most unsettling isn’t that fact—it’s the realization that a part of you is willing to let it all burn.

You travel through the night, and by the time dawn breaks over the horizon, Daemon leads you toward a sprawling camp at the edge of a river. Tents rise like a small city, banners bearing the Blackfyre sigil fluttering in the wind. Soldiers pause in their tasks, watching with wide eyes as Daemon dismounts, pulling you gently down with him. His men bow, their loyalty unquestioning. They don’t see you as a prisoner—they see you as their queen.

He holds out his hand, and for a moment, you hesitate. Your whole life has been defined by duty, by what you must do for the crown, for the realm. But as you look into Daemon’s violet, storm-filled eyes, you feel the weight of something different—desire, freedom, and the thrill of the unknown.

You take his hand.

The men cheer as Daemon pulls you to his side, lifting your joined hands high for all to see. “I present to you,” Daemon declares, his voice carrying over the camp, “the woman who will stand beside me as I take back what is rightfully ours. My bride, the trueblood of Targaryen lineage.”

Your stomach twists at the proclamation, but you lift your chin high. You know that what follows will be perilous. You’ve stepped into the eye of the storm, where there is no turning back.

Daemon takes you inside the largest tent, which is lavishly adorned compared to the rest of the camp. The flickering light of the braziers casts shadows against the walls, giving the space an almost ethereal glow. Once inside, he turns to you, his eyes softer now, yet still filled with the intensity that defines him.

“You may hate me for this,” he says quietly, stepping closer. “But I will not apologize. I’ve wanted you from the moment I knew of your birth. You were meant for more than a hollow life in the Red Keep. With me, you will have fire, blood, and the world at your feet.”

His words stir something deep within you, something primal. The court had always tried to shape you, to contain you within their expectations of what a princess should be. But with Daemon, there are no limits. He offers you a crown not forged by duty, but by power.

You meet his gaze, and the space between you seems to shrink. “You’ve risked everything,” you whisper, your voice a mixture of defiance and awe. “The throne, the realm, even your life—all for me?”

His smile is slow, dangerous, but genuine. “I’d burn the world for you.”

There it is again, that reckless flame that burns inside him, drawing you in like a moth to the fire. And now you’re in the center of it, your future bound to his rebellion, to his ambition.

But a thought crosses your mind, one you cannot ignore. “The realm will come for us,” you say, your voice low. “My brother Daeron, the royal court—what we’ve done will not go unpunished.”

Daemon’s expression darkens for a moment, but his confidence never wavers. “Let them come. I’ve waited long enough to make my move. The rebellion was already in motion, but with you, it has become unstoppable. They will either bend the knee or fall.”

You shiver, not from the cold but from the realization that this is your life now—standing beside the man who has stolen you from everything you once knew. You are no longer just the beloved Targaryen princess. You are the queen of the Blackfyre rebellion, and the realm will bleed for it.

Daemon steps closer, cupping your cheek with surprising gentleness. His thumb brushes over your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. “You are mine now,” he whispers, his voice low and possessive. “And together, we will carve a new legacy.”

You close your eyes, your heart pounding in your chest as you lean into his touch. You know that this path will not be easy, that it will be filled with blood and fire. But as you stand here with Daemon, in the quiet before the storm, you find that you no longer care.

You are his, and the realm will know it. Let them come.

[verbenaa]

venus in furs

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: He’s always imagined you like this in his dreams, he thinks. Naked, dressed in rubies as red as the wine in your silver chalice, blood like pomegranate juice dripping from your lips, staining your mouth to match the red of your blood that colors his own.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: Astarion/Reader

𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: smut, 18+ only

𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 6.1k

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: Ascended Astarion, dom Astarion, dom/sub, vaginal fingering, finger sucking, blowjobs, slight exhibitionism, slight degradation, guided masturbation, vaginal sex

𝑎/𝑛: back with another one, friends. I didn't ever think I would really write ascended Astarion, but what can I say?? I hope you all like this one, I definitely enjoyed writing it and getting out of my comfort zone a little bit! Let me know what you think! Thank you so much for reading!

MDNI, 18+ CONTENT

ao3 here

masterlist

The air of the palace is cold against your exposed skin as you walk through the halls you now own, wearing nothing but an ermine cloak and glittering jewels, your stride confident amidst the darkened hallways.

These halls were once filled with the smell of decay and the leftover dust of ages past, a distasteful reminder of the horrors that had occurred here over centuries. You had made sure upon Astarion’s ascension to rip out as much of the place as you could, making decisions with that of an aesthete’s touch, ideals of what a grand palace should look like for your lover.

Dull red carpets were hastily replaced with elegant emerald green, every oppressive drapery torn away from their rods and transformed instead into flowing brocaded silks, old and rotted furniture sent to be thrown into the river or to burn, it mattered not which end it met. Such matters of what happened to the furniture were beneath you. 

You had much loftier concerns to deal with, now.

After all, what use was being His Dark Consort, if not to wile away your now infinite hours doing whatever you so wished, consequences be damned?

You stride towards the ballroom where two thrones of gleaming gold sit side by side on a newly raised dais, not caring whether the servants you passed noticed your state of dishabille. You knew they would turn their eyes from you, they would never dare to look upon you in such a way without his express permission.

At last, you make your way to your destination; chandeliers dimly lit with tapers of dripping wax hang from the ceiling, illuminating the richly woven tapestries decorating the walls. It was a shame you still couldn’t manage to get all of the blood stains out of the floorboards from the battle with those dreadful wolves, but you supposed there were worse trophies than those of your victories. You were content to let them serve as a reminder to all those who entered this place of who it was that had eventually won the battle.

A quick step up onto the dais has you exactly where you want to be, your eyes flitting between the twin thrones, resplendent with whorls of gold crafted into scenes of animals at hunt, the seats plush with dark velvet. With naught but a minute glance towards your own throne, you instead bring your gaze upon that of Astarion’s. 

You settle into your lover’s throne and arrange your cloak around you, the blood red of the velvet sliding against your curves as you move to recline, the contrast stark against the milky fur of the oversized collar, dark dots smattered across the expanse of alabaster like drops of ink against a page. 

The jewels around your neck and in your ears shift with every movement of your body, the pear-shaped ruby of your necklace—practically the size of your palm—encrusted with crystal clear diamonds heavy as it rests upon your collarbone. 

You wait for Astarion to find you, just like this, your body on display for him in the way you know he so likes. Soft curls of anticipation settle deep within your stomach, embers of pleasure eager to transform into a wildfire. 

Astarion, thankfully, does not keep you waiting long, his muted footfalls upon the covered floors catch upon your ears soon after taking your desired place. The knowledge he is finally here and so close has you sitting up slightly straighter. 

You know he will be able smell the scent of you, the heady aroma of your slow growing excitement will lead him right to where you lay in wait for him. You arrange yourself for one moment more on the throne, a siren’s smile on your face as you await the presence of your lover.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The last thing Astarion expects to see when he walks into the ballroom is you, lounging indolently on his throne of all places, wearing nothing but the dark red of an ermine cloak and dripping in jewels.

He has to give you credit, he supposes; when he walked in from the city after a series of decidedly droll meetings with decidedly useless patriars, finding you waiting for him like a little treat dying to be tasted did not make his list. 

How very lucky you are, it seems, that when he scented your arousal on the stairs he decided instead to investigate rather than moving on to whatever work awaits him in his office.

You had always liked playing these kinds of games, your subtle machinations something he was always happy to bear witness to with a smile on his face.

His perfect, pretty Dark Consort and her quaint little schemes. 

“And what do we have here?” Astarion arches a brow as he takes in the sight of you. 

His eyes trace your frame, from the white and black of the fur trim that rests against your naked flesh, hiding your peaked nipples from sight as your crossed legs obscure the telltale wetness he knows is forming between your thighs.

You flutter your lashes prettily at his perusal of your body, a coquettish tilt of your head at his interest.

With predatory intent, Astarion makes a slow circle around his throne with inhuman grace, his eyes never leaving you. You feel the intensity of his gaze against your skin, your hair, your lips—every part of you on display for him and him only. 

He’s always imagined you like this in his dreams, he thinks. Naked, dressed in rubies as red as the wine in your silver chalice, blood like pomegranate juice dripping from your lips, staining your mouth to match the red of your blood that colors his own.

He completes his circle and his eyes meet your own, his glowing claret gaze darkening and you know with certainty that he is pleased at your offering for him.

“Won’t you bend the knee for me, my Lord?” You feign innocence in your question, eyes roving greedily over his clothed body, taking in the fine tailoring of his intricately embroidered velvet doublet, the skin-tight fit of the finest leather pants highlighting the beginnings of his erection.

“Is that what you would like, dearest?” His eyes bore into your own, a mocking smile alighting his plush lips at such a request. 

“It’s the least you can do, don’t you think? To be greeted with such a gift like myself?” Your thighs open for him as you recline further into the velvet, your wetness glistening in the dim candlelight.

“How presumptuous of you, my sweet Consort.” despite his words, a spike of heat works its way through your body at the sight of his knees moving smoothly to the floor in front of the throne you have now made your own. 

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips absentmindedly as he comes to settle his chest between your open thighs, a wicked smile forming on his lips.

Astarion doesn’t miss the sight of your tongue brushing against your lips, and he can’t help but think of other things that your mouth is capable of. He runs his hands up and down the outside of your thighs with surprising delicacy as his eyes move to your dewy center, now exposed to him. 

“I do hope you haven’t been waiting long, pet.” His hands make their way to your waist, thumbs brushing teasing patterns against your skin as he leans in to press a kiss to the softness of your lower belly, breath catching in your throat at the closeness of his lips.

You have but a moment to relish the feeling, the hands at your waist moving to yank you out of the throne upon which you sit. You quickly find yourself chest to chest with your lover, your exposed center pressing against the growing hardness still hidden behind tied leather for mere seconds before your world is turned once more; Astarion moving you onto your knees as you now face the seat of the throne you had just occupied, a spot of your own wetness darkening the velvet cushion as your ribcage presses hard against the golden frame of the throne.

A hand makes its way from your waist to clasp against your throat, the feeling of his fingers pressing in on your windpipe exquisite. 

“Because you’ll have to wait a little longer, I’m afraid.” His words fall hot against your ear as he speaks, lips brushing against the tender skin as your face falls at the thought of being denied what you had been so sure he would give you, a small noise of discontent falling from your rouged lips.

You feel the hand still resting on your waist move up to unclasp the fur cloak from your throat, the heavy fabric falling to the floor behind you with a muted thud before Astarion moves to grab and throw it aside. He quickly presses close, eager to replace the lost warmth as his hand makes it way back south, the embroidery of his doublet pressing against your exposed back, every caress of the threads like fire against your skin. 

The hand around you neck tightens infinitesimally, the additional pressure drawing a gasp from your lips as his other hand continues making it way lower, sweeping through the curls at the apex of your thighs before coming to cup at your dripping wetness. 

“I don’t take orders from you, lover, and it would do for you to remember that.” His fingers slide through your folds, drawing a noise from both of your lips at the feeling. 

“Gods, look at you. So desperate already, and I’ve barely touched you.” His words are a whisper against your neck, reverent despite his prior condemnation. Fingers trace at your entrance, their touch light and teasing as he continues his scolding. 

“What a little tyrant you’ve become. Daring to sit in my throne and to make such demands of me.” His tone is mocking now as he presses those two fingers at your entrance, pushing in to the knuckle, leaving you no time to acclimate to the fullness. A whine falls from your lips as his fingers move deep, eyes falling shut and head lolling forwards the hand still squeezing lightly at your throat.

Astarion allows the gesture, his hand softening its hold to instead stroke at the graceful column of you neck as your head falls back to rest upon his velvet draped shoulder. 

The fingers inside you find that spot deep inside, curling to press into it with relentless intent. Moans fall from your lips as his fingers fuck into your pussy, your wetness aiding their slide in and out of your wanting body. 

“Look at how easily you cry for me, my sweet.” His words spur you on, your hips riding his hand as his fingers find their rhythm deep inside you for but a moment before he mercilessly pulls them from of your body.

Astarion’s fingers leave you empty, a whimper filling the air as he drags the hand that had been pleasuring you up your body, leaving a trail of slick across the heated skin of your stomach to the place in between your breasts. 

His wet fingers leave your body to hover in front of you, your head coming up off his shoulder. 

Astarion’s pulls his fingers apart, shining strings of your arousal clinging between the digits. The sight of it has the both of you entranced as Astarion slowly brings those fingers together again and presses them against your lips.

“Open.” The command is clear in his voice, and you open your mouth without a second thought.

He settles the fingers on your tongue and you obediently close your mouth around them and suck at your own wetness coating the digits. 

“Such a good girl, barely having to be told what to do,” His praise is like velvet running across your skin as you hollow your cheeks around the digits in your mouth, your essence heavy on your tongue. 

“You taste divine, don’t you think?” You are powerless but to nod in agreement, empty core clenching at the honey dripping from his words.

The taste of yourself in your own mouth like this is downright lewd and you know without a doubt that if the heart that sits in your chest could beat once more that your face would be flushed as red as the roses you now choose to decorate with.

You can feel Astarion’s hardness through his pants, pressing into you from his place behind you, cock twitching with every movement of your tongue. His fingers make their way out of your mouth before reaching down to tweak at a hardened nipple, your saliva coating his digits as they rub circles around the nub. 

“Do me a favor, darling, and stay on those knees of yours.” Astarion’s lips brush against the delicate skin of your ear once more, his words a seductive whisper as he rises behind you. 

You look over your shoulder as he stands at his full height, your face at eye level with the hard bulge still hidden behind leather. A corner of your mouth tilts upwards as you turn on your knees to face him fully, hands coming up to rest on his upper thighs as you look up into his eyes.

Your fingers rub the leather covering his strong legs, head moving forward to rest lightly against his covered erection.

The sight of you down on your knees is that of sin incarnate, Astarion’s breath hitching slightly before that same wicked smile creeps back onto his features.

“May I, my Lord?” Your fingertips inch upwards with your words, playing with the waistband of his pants.

“It’s the least you can do, don’t you think?” He uses your earlier words against you tauntingly, his haughty smirk deepening at the devilish raise of your brows.

You see fit not to answer him with words, instead letting your hands do the talking as they make their way to the laces covering his erection. With several quick motions of your fingers the laces fall open and you free his aching length, placing a kiss to the tip.

Astarion groans at that first brush of your lips against him, hips jumping at the touch as his cock bobs in response.

You mouth at the crown, reverent brushes of your tongue moving on the soft skin of his shaft have his head falling back with a sigh. Astarion brings his eyes back to your form on the floor beneath him, knees resting on the ground as your nipples pebble in the chilled air, lips and tongue working him with the motions you know he loves. 

You lick a stripe up a vein on his cock before taking his heat inside your mouth, cheeks hollowing against him as you suck. The action has him moaning, your lips and tongue moving to work him as you slowly begin to bob your head.

You continue your ministrations, sucking him into your mouth as your hand comes to help you touch what you can’t easily reach with your mouth, pumping him at the base as your tongue caresses the crown of his cock. 

The noises Astarion makes is like music to your ears, the sound of his carnal moans only serving to drive you to move your mouth faster and deeper.

“You can take me harder, can’t you?” His words are uncharacteristically breathless as his fingers card through your hair, gathering strands into a makeshift ponytail in his fist as his other hand brushes against the high point of your cheek.

You nod your head as much as you can with your lips wrapped around his cock, humming in confirmation as your eyes look up to meet his own gaze, glassy with lust. 

Astarion pumps his hips at your blessing, moving his cock in and out of your mouth with slow motions as your tongue brushes against him. Your lips open wider to accommodate him, hand on his thigh squeezing in encouragement.

Pleasure rushes to your core as Astarion’s hand fists harder in your hair, his hips moving faster now as he sets his pace, your moans around his cock spurring him on as he moves closer to your throat, eyes watering involuntarily with each thrust as he nears the back of your mouth. 

He hisses at the pleasure, at the sight of you letting him fuck your mouth however he pleases as your eyes flash upwards to meet his own, the beginnings of tears dusting your lashes as he pushes deeper into your warm mouth. 

Few things compare to the knowledge that Astarion is under your control like this, and you know he won’t last long as you breathe in through your nose, relaxing your throat for him to press as deep as he wants with a flutter of your lashes, stray teardrops falling onto your cheeks as you can only imagine the thoughts floating through his pleasure-addled mind. 

As Astarion looks down upon your form below him, taking him so very well, he can’t help but think that the deepest and darkest parts of him covet you like this always. Lips wrapped tight around his cock, unable to think of nothing but him as he fucks your mouth, your lips sealed around his cock. 

The beautiful blush of your lips, the crystal of your tears, the claret of your blood. 

All for him and him only.

He comes on your tongue with the thought, his spend going down your throat in hot, salty spurts. You swallow him greedily, intent on not wasting a drop as the hands in your hair tighten as Astarion’s hips buck into your mouth with abandon as you drink down his seed.

With a sigh the hand in your hair loosens as Astarion comes down from his high, your mouth still moving over his softening cock. You slowly pull off him, tongue licking at him as you go, collecting the remnants of his come off him before you let his length fall from your lips.

With one last swallow, you look up at him from your place on your knees, licking at a stray drop of his come that escapes your mouth. Astarion brushes his thumb against your closed lips, his eyes still hot with lust as your tongue darts out to lick at the fingertip.

With a nod of his head, Astarion gestures to your cloak where it lays long forgotten against the cold floors. With a coy smirk up at him, you bring your hands to the floor and crawl over towards the soft velvet. 

Astarion follows your every sway of your body as you move, and when you finally lay yourself down onto the cloak, back resting against the lush material, he follows. He wastes no time to lower himself above you, hovering, as he takes in the vision of you resting beneath him.

His Dark Consort. His blasphemous Queen.

He would do anything for you.

His eyes rove your naked form, burning the memory of the way the deep crimson of the cape highlights the color of your skin, the open yearning in your expression and complete submission to him into his mind to last the entirety of his eternal life.

Astarion finally touches your body, no longer satisfied with a simple gaze, a hand brushing back your hair from your face before making its way down your body. You let your legs fall open for him to continue his exploration, eagerly exposing your wanting center to him as he bends his head down, giving an experimental lick up your slit, collecting your wetness on his tongue.

“Do you want to come, my love?” You nod your head, a whine escaping at the promise in his voice. 

“Then I want you to make yourself come while I watch.” He releases your legs, moving to stand before making his way to his throne.

He sits down with the grace of a king, his gaze expectant on your naked body as you part your legs for him once more.

His words are unexpected but you waste no time, not willing to wait lest he decide to abandon your pleasure all together. A hand skates its way down your body, bypassing your aching breasts to go straight to your clit. You rub at your pearl with delicate fingers, your motions second nature as you let yourself fall headfirst into the feeling of pleasure as Astarion watches you from his place on his throne, his cock already hard again.

Your eyes fall shut as you continue your ministrations, head falling to the side as your pleasure drives higher and higher with every motion of your fingers. 

“Eyes on me, darling.” His words are hard, the command clear in his voice has your eyes opening fast and landing back on his form.

You watch Astarion where he sits, taking in the sight of him as your fingers continue drawing circles around your clit. He reclines back in his throne, a hand drawing lazy touches up and down his cock as his own eyes are fixated on your fingers at your most intimate area. 

With a breath your hand leaves your clit, moving further down to touch at your weeping entrance. 

If he wants a show, you will gladly give him one.

Without waiting, you plunge your fingers into yourself, pushing them as deep as you can. Your own are nothing compared to the length and elegance of his own, but they will have to do for now. You fuck yourself on your fingers, quickly adding a third in an attempt to recreate the feeling of Astarion’s own. 

Your fingers shine with your wetness, Astarion groaning at the sight of you fucking yourself like this, knowing you won’t last much longer at the rate you are going.

“Slow down, darling,” A smirk plays at his lips as he notes the shaking of your thighs. 

“You can’t come until I say so, and I’m not ready for this little performance to be over quite yet.” You whine at his command, but slow your fingers obediently, moving them inside you at a slower pace now.

Your fingers work diligently as your eyes don’t leave Astarion’s from where he sits some feet away. His attention on you only serve to drive you higher, those crimson eyes never leaving you.

Your legs widen so Astarion can better see your motions as your other hand comes up to palm at your breasts, fingers still moving in an easy rhythm that drives your higher and higher with every pass.

You know that he loves to see and watch you like this, and there is nothing you love more than leaning into that yearning, eager to let his dominance wash over you.

“A-Astarion, I can’t hold off much longer.” It takes effort to keep your eyes on him, trying to push off your orgasm as long as possible, thighs shaking once more with impending release.

“Let go, my love.” His permission feels like a balm, hand at your chest coming down to rub at your clit as the fingers inside you speed up their thrusts, intent to bring yourself to orgasm as fast as you can get there.

You had waited so long to finally be allowed to come, to get the pleasure you desired and deserved, and while you wish that it was Astarion’s hands instead of your own, you supposed beggars could not be choosers.

Your orgasm hits, limbs seizing and hips bucking against your fingers, head thrown back as a moan leaves your painted lips, back bowing with pleasure.

“Beautiful.” Astarion murmurs the words low, barely audible over your own moans as you come on your fingers, orgasm washing over you as you writhe on the floor in front of him.

Your body relaxes in the wake of your release, limbs loose against the cloak on the floor. You ease your fingers out of yourself with a slight wince, the digits soaked with your own come. You lay there for a moment, your senses coming back to you as your eyes finally open and glance back at your lover. 

“Come to me.” His words are expectant, and you force yourself to rise despite the pleasant exhaustion weighing down your limbs, walking to the throne and standing in between his knees as he spreads them to make room for you.

Astarion’s hand reaches out to grab your wrist, bringing the fingers that had filled your core to his own mouth before he wraps his mouth around them.

He licks at your come, tongue sliding against your fingers in a bid to collect all of your spend, intent on letting none go to waste. The feeling of his tongue on your fingers drives a wedge of heat right back to the spot between your legs, Astarion’s eyes never leaving your face as his tongue glides up and down your fingertips.

With one last motion, he sucks hard on your fingers before pulling his mouth away from your hand.

“Sit.” The command is simple as his hands grab at your waist, pulling you to him. 

Your knees land on either side of his hips, his cock brushing up against your empty core as Astarion’s lips finds your own.

His kiss is demanding, passion and control combined into a fiery thing that you answer with the same emotion, mouth opening to his tongue as it sweeps inside to taste.

You’re breathless when Astarion breaks this kiss, his lips moving to press kisses against your jaw.

“Turn around and face the doors, darling.” His smile is absolutely deviant as you obey his words without a second thought, excitement building at whatever he has in store for you.

Your body twists over his own, settling onto his lap as your bare back rests against his velvet doublet. His length presses against your slit like this, your come slicking the shaft. Astarion’s hands caress the curve of your waist as you lean back into him, your head turning to brush your lips over the skin of his neck in a light kiss.

The hands on your waist move further down your sides and over your legs, stopping at your knees to grip underneath each, lifting them up and over the armrests of the throne. Your breath catches in your throat at the slight burn in your thighs as your legs stretch open, every inch of your aching cunt on full display.

He bares you entirely like this, anyone who dares to walk by the open doors and look inside would see every bit of you. It’s a small blessing, you think, that any servants have long made themselves scarce once they realized the debauchery taking place.

“Such a good girl you are, darling, keeping yourself open for me like this.” The hands holding your legs move up to stroke at your thighs, before one wanders higher towards your center. Astarion drags his fingers through your wetness, fingers spreading your folds and collecting the wetness on his fingertips as he circles your clit.

His lips find the tender skin behind your ear at the moment two fingers push inside you, sliding in knuckle deep before pulling back out again.

“You put on such a good show for me, darling. I think you deserve a reward.” He kisses your neck, those fingers pushing in once more to massage at your inner walls.

Astarion is intent on building you back up to a frenzy, his years of knowledge of your body to press and rub against everywhere he knows will only bring you higher. 

He will always worship you, you who helped him rise to this new height, assisting so selflessly in handing him such power. It was the least he could do, to keep and covet you so tightly you could never want or dream of anything less than an eternity by his side.

The old Astarion could never care for you the way he does now, could never gift you such unimaginable riches—gowns of the finest silks and tulles, an endless supply of silvers and golds, jewels of unbelievable value. 

No, he couldn’t offer you even a fraction of what he can now. His poor excuse for companionship was all that he had to offer you back then.

You deserved better, and better was what he would give you.

“You’re a vision like this, darling, held open for me while I make you come.” He mouths at the skin of your neck, never slowing in his movements.

His fingers hook inside of you, pressing against your g-spot with relentless efficiency, your cries spurring on his motions. You can hear the sounds of your wetness with his every motion, can feel yourself dripping onto the soft leather of his covered thighs beneath you.

Your orgasm hits you without warning, that familiar warmth coursing through your veins Astarion’s fingers still press on the softness of your walls as your cunt constricts around them. You writhe in his lap, hips riding his hand as he presses kisses to your neck as his fingers continue their work. You whine at the sensations, body moving closer towards overstimulation after reaching your peak twice in such a short time.

Astarion grants you a moment to recover as his fingers slide out of you, hands instead moving to bring your legs down from their place over the chair as you pant listlessly against his chest, body still shaking from the pleasure he had given you.

“Please, fuck me.” Your words carry a certain softness in their desperation that has Astarion’s cock bobbing against your entrance once more as you move onto your knees above him, looking back over your shoulder to see him grabbing his cock as he positions it at your entrance.

You lower down eagerly to take him inside you in a smooth glide, ignoring the slight twinge of overstimulation as you press all the way down until your hips meet, a hiss leaving his mouth at the feeling of your warmth finally wrapped around him.

You moans fill the air together, Astarion’s hands finding your waist as you glide yourself up and down his cock, taking him deep with every motion downwards, hips grinding into his own when he bottoms out. His lips caress the skin of your spine and neck, one hand on your hip helping you move up and down him, the other buried in your hair, keeping it out of the way of his roaming lips. 

Astarion lets you move above him at your own pace, moaning into your skin as you work yourself on him, your hips undulating above him in a seductive dance as you take him deep on every slide down before gliding back up, barely keeping the head of him inside before you begin again.

Astarion’s grip on your hip tightens as he begins to guide you in harder motions that have you picking up speed, his fingers digging into your skin as the lips on your neck switch from kisses to light nips of his fangs. 

“Harder, Astarion.” Your words come out on uneven breaths as he thrusts deep, cries of pleasure falling from you open lips as he takes control. 

“Off, darling.” He pants, other hand moving to join the one at your hip as he moves you off his cock, your wetness coating it. 

On unsteady legs you move to stand by the throne as Astarion gets up behind you, his hands never leaving your body as he quickly directs you back. Your knees touch soft velvet as you move to kneel on the seat, hands grasping for purchase on the golden whorls as Astarion sheathes himself back inside you, hips sliding home on the first thrust. 

The carved gold bites into your palms as you hold on, legs widening for him to fuck you harder as his hands find their way to hold onto your hips, pulling your body back against his own as he fucks you with little delicacy.

Gone is the easy, sensuous pace of earlier, replaced by your mutual desperation for something harder. His cock is impossibly deep like this, hitting what feels like every nerve ending inside you with the pump of his hips.

A hand grips your hair and pulls your head back roughly as his teeth nip at your earlobe. 

“Is this what you wished for, my dear?” He whispers the words, hips snapping into yours. “To be fucked like a whore? On my throne, like this?”

You moan at his words, pussy clenching hard on his cock as his skin slaps into your own, the sound echoing against the elegantly carved wood ceiling.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” He chuckles into your ear as you gasp at a particularly sharp thrust, his mouth licking a stripe up your neck.

You deign not to answer him, knowing your body tells him everything he needs to know about that particular line of questioning.

His cock hits a particularly deep spot inside you, and you cry out at the sensation, pain and pleasure mixing headily in your veins. Your hands clutch harder onto the throne under you in an attempt to center yourself, efforts in vain as Astarion continues to fuck into that same spot near your cervix.

Your eyes roll back at the feeling of him so deep, wanton moans falling from your lips with abandon as pleasure streaks through body, burning brighter than the sun. 

“Will you bleed for me, sweet thing?” The words aren’t quite a question, more hypothetical in nature. You know he will take, and you are always willing to give to him, even after all these years. You nod your head regardless, as best you can with Astarion’s fingers still gripping in your hair, never mind his hard thrusts in and out of your body.

His lips fall against your neck, nose nudging against the skin there as his breath is hot where his lips caress the skin behind your ear. The hand in your hair loosens, allowing you to move your head further to side, baring more skin to his searching mouth in invitation.

He bites down, the fragile skin of your neck breaking like it has a thousand times over, your blood dripping down in rivulets as Astarion drinks you in. Your blood stains the diamonds and rubies around your neck, facets dancing with every push of Astarion’s hips against your own in the dim light.

Every suck of Astarion’s mouth against your neck brings you closer, cries falling as you both soar higher and higher towards your peak. His hips continue to move, never slowing in their rhythm as he drinks, blood continuing to drip down over the peak of your breasts before falling onto the gilded throne beneath you.

All it takes is a few more thrusts from Astarion before you come apart, body bucking against his own as he continues to suck at the flesh of your neck, every pull from his mouth bringing the pleasure higher as you crest wave after wave of our climax, white hot heat rushing over your senses. He works you through your orgasm, never slowing his pace as he fucks you through the height of it, allowing you to luxuriate in the euphoria.

Astarion follows shortly after you, the feeling of your cunt clenching hard against his own heat divine as he loses the final threads of his control. His hips press tight against your own as he empties himself inside of you with unrestrained moans as he extricates his fangs from your neck to press his brow against your shoulder, tongue licking at the spilled blood that runs down your body.

Astarion stays inside you, his cock softening as his come leaks from your joined bodies down onto the skin of your thighs, pressing kisses to your shoulder as your breathing slowly evens out. 

Finally he pulls himself from your center, helping you off the throne as he bends down to grab your discarded cape from the floor nearby. He settles it back around your shoulders as you lean against him, looking up into his eyes.

“What ever are we to do with you, darling?” He sighs the words in mock distress, a finger coming to lift your chin up towards him as he smirks.

“I suppose maybe I need to be better disciplined?” Your smile answers his own, voice coy as you toy with a button on his doublet.

“Then lead the way, pet, there’s still much I can teach you.” Your answering smirk is all the permission required as Astarion leads you to the bedroom, intent to make good on his promise before the night is done.

[applesontheground]

lonely girls, they don't survive 🌙

KINKTOBER 2024 | DAY TWENTY THREE - LICKING & DEGRADATION

this one goes out to the lovely anon who said they actually liked what i've written about my fave occult beings. 🐺

i've had a pack of rowdy boys in the works for a long time, and although i wanna build their characters up a little more before going public with them, enjoy another peek into a group i'm coining "the butcher's dogs". 😋

all i can say for now, happy werewolf wednesday! 🐾🦴🐾🦴🐾

NSFW | Word Count: 1,116 | Original Werewolf Characters x Female Human!Reader contains predator/prey, chasing, manhandling, open ending (and the ending would be a gangbang if you couldn't tell) 🎼: x (WOE, WERWOLF PLAYLIST BE UPON YE)

Coworkers wondered why you had a Friday appointment with a local trail every night, surrounded in a city wrought with dark forest and urban legends about people disappearing within the lengths of trees, to whatever else was in there, sitting on the edge of the little civilization you called home.

You asked them if it was any coincidence you always came back, just needing the crisp air and cardio since the next gym was a forty minute drive away and you never wanted to do that after work. The younger of your peers digressed, but the older folk would give you a second look over. “Be careful, it’s all we suggest.”

That was understood, of course, because you knew what waited on the trails on the nights you took off on a brisk jog. The monsters that lay within and you had formed that schedule together a long time ago.

“Pretty girl,” called one of them, the shorter side of the pack but eyes bright as sunshine, beaming at you from the treeline. Most of the times, he was the one you had to worry about first and foremost. You stuck your tongue out, continuing to run and eyeing a good, open spot on either sides of the path. If you could duck through the trees, hide in some brush…they’d lose their minds, only finding the scent but not the girl.

“Out and alone where anything can get her?” He looked to something on the other side of the path, hidden in the trees but with his gawking expression you figured it was one of the other wolves. You winced, but bit back, “Not afraid of you.”

“Liar, liar…” Tsked another one, the voices coming from the other side of you. Eyes reflected in the half-moon as he also kept up with you while staying absconded by the flora, and it startled you on top of a heart pumping with adrenaline. You flinched away, but merely tripped against the edge of the path from a movement too large, his laughter like a wildfire catching in the branches in his face as he stepped forward. “And a dumb one to boot!”

“Fuck you.” You scrambled back, standing up but knowing there was far too much of a tip towards them on the scale when it came to who was catching up now. You merely took two steps further on the path, facing behind you to keep an eye on both of them, and soon you were flush with one of the larger packmates.

He didn’t touch quite yet, but when you looked up at him, he chuffed through his throat, a smile growing on his face. “Hello, pretty girl…” Your eyelids fluttered, trying to appear horrified as you turned away again. They were walking up casually, huffs and laughter in the air as you muttered, “I don’t understand why one of you haven’t turned me yet, I really don’t.”

“Because we like the chasing.” Spoke a quieter member, mute thus far but his warm voice apparent now. When he did speak, the others seemed to stay silent until the thought was completed.

Then again, judging by the way he let the silence hang, looking next to him awkwardly, he didn’t have much else besides that anyways.

“…Who says that, huh?” You cocked your head, eyes widened and open-mouth smile perking at the allured expressions that got. You turned again, ducking easily under the crossed arm of the wolf behind you and took off again.

“Get her!”

You hopped a long, kept up with uneven terrain as the path started getting less defined the further you got out in the forest. Yet, you knew when there was a slam of bushes, rustle as the birds took off from commotion, it was futile and right next to you.

“Peekaboo!” cried the wolf, bolting out again and his arms around your waist as he hoisted you off the ground, growling in your face while you immediately squirmed, eyes still alive -- not as bright as his friend, but still searing like water on a hot skillet against your form.

“Gonna eat you alive if you don’t stop playing so roughly.” He smiled against your cheek, a swipe of his tongue against your racing pulse that made you push against his chest, making him gasp in mock offense. “I assumed you would by now. …Is that a promise?” You knocked your forehead against his, going limp for a moment as you finally breathed one of their names against his mouth, “Leo?”

It gave you enough of a jump, the release of pressure against your back from loosening arms, and with a shoulder check you broke away yet again. He snarled after you, “Careful what you wish for, pretty girl-!”

“I have a name.” You finally sputtered, turning around fast and making him stand back a bit. Still, he looked above your head, and that was when the leader of the pack was now standing behind you – the others naturally keeping distance now, he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and growled your name into your ear.

“[Y/N], my dear. Is that what you want to hear? Pretty [Y/N]?” You melted, and admitted with a taut throat, “Yes.”

“Simple mind, simple needs.” He spoke with weight in his voice, like he was thinking on those very words, but then caught your flinch as his tongue went up your neck, a nip on your jaw from his slender mouth.

“Maybe that’s why I like you the way you are.”

“Your boys will bite me themselves if you keep them waiting,” You whispered, and he smiled at that with a nod. “Yes, they could. They want to, but you should know we have these discussions far in advance. Against a couple strong opinions, we’ve decided we don’t want to meet the she-wolf.” He shook his head, cooing at the disappointed glint in your eye as you looked away, muttering his name now. “Aw, Toby…”

You spotted the same emotion in the eyes of Leo, one of the obvious ones with such a big mouth, strong thoughts being known. He would’ve torn your throat out, licked the blood while making obscene noises if he didn’t have the others to worry about. It was a dynamic that was weirdly animal despite them being…well, men on the outside.

At least tonight, the growling and doglike persistence not in question.

A whisper against your ear brought you back to the lean pair of arms squeezing you, slight nail contact against your shirt as he seethed to you, and you realized Leo might not be the only one who needed to sink his teeth in.

“Not yet, pretty girl.”

[supernaturalgirl20]

The Viper

Pairings: Oberyn Martell x f!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+ (not with reader), explicit, cursing, kidnapping, sexual thoughts, violence, mention of assault (very brief), mind games.

Summary: Oberyn is becoming enamoured by you, stirring feelings he thought long buried. His plan is set in motion. Temp you to the dark side.

A/N: completely forgot to post this earlier. Anyway, here it is 🥰 it will be told in dual POV. Each part jumps from reader to Oberyn.

Series Masterlist

Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰

He could feel the ghost of your touch as he walked away from your room. The warmth of your hand on his thigh sparked something in him that he didn’t think he would ever feel again. Certainly not for a Lannister, but he couldn’t deny that you were different. That something about you drew him in like a moth to a flame. 

It didn’t help that you were beautiful. Or that the dress you had on clung to your curves in all the right ways. You were a temptress sent to test him and he was loath to give in. He was going to have to be careful. He couldn’t let you get under his skin. Or into his heart. He had plans and catching feelings, wasn’t one of them. 

***

The sound of laughter pulled him from his thoughts as he made his way through the house. Specifically, Ellaria’s, and he knew there was only one person who made her laugh like that. 

Jaron. 

Oberyn was furious. His mind replayed the way he had been with you and a burning rage filled his veins as he stalked towards him. How dare he touch you like that. How dare he touch any woman like that. 

He wasn’t in the habit of hurting women, never had been, but even more so now after what happened to his sister. So, when he entered the doorway of your room and saw the way he was touching you, had heard the words he spoke, he wanted nothing more than to drive a knife through his heart. 

“What the hell was that?” He snarled, his voice echoing through the air. Jaron had been sitting with his arm around Ellaria whispering into the shell of her ear when he flinched at the sound of his boss's voice. 

“Boss.” He stuttered as he jumped to his feet, eyes shifting nervously around the room, hoping one of the other men would step in and save him. They didn’t. 

“I asked you a question. I expect an answer.” His fists were clenched at his side as he tried to restrain himself. 

“Come on, boss. I was just trying to scare the girl. Wasn’t gonna do anything.” He chuckled, shifting from one foot to the other. 

“Didn’t look that way to me,” Oberyn growled, his breaths becoming shorter with each word he spoke.  “You know how I feel about the matter.”

“Don’t know why you’re getting so worked up anyway, ain’t she a Lannister? If it were me, I’d have my way with her and then throw her to the wolves.” Oberyn growled, charging toward Jaron and pinning him against the wall.

 The sound of Jaron choking as Oberyn cut off his air had caused Ellaria to stand and gently place her hand on his arm, hoping to calm him. Just like it had many times before, but it didn’t ease the rage that was burning like wildfire within him. 

“Get. Your. Hand. Off. Me,” he roared, and she flinched, quickly removing her hand from him. His gaze remained focused on Jaron as he began to slowly lose consciousness. “You ever touch her again, and I won’t hesitate to kill you. Lannister or not, while she remains here, she’s under my protection. Got it?”

He releases his hand from around Jarons neck and he quickly takes in a gasped breath. He nods his head, avoiding Oberyn’s gaze. 

“That goes for everyone in this room. The Martell family doesn’t hurt women. Anyone who thinks otherwise will be killed by me.” 

“Got it, boss.”

“Understood, boss.” It chorused around the room, the men moving aside as Oberyn moved passed them towards his office. The door slammed behind him and once in the safety of his own space, he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. 

Opening them slowly again, his gaze turned towards the monitor which gave him a clear view of your room, of you sitting on the bed where he’d left you. 

His jacket was still draped over your shoulders, and he couldn’t get the image of you standing in front of him with nothing on, only his jacket, out of his head. His cock stirred to life for the second time tonight and as much as he wanted to whip his cock out and wrap his hand around it, tugging himself as he came to the sight of you on his screen, he couldn’t. 

Reaching into his pocket he grabbed his phone and dialled Trystane, “Boss?” His voice sounded through the phone. “I want someone for the night.”

“Anyone in particular?” Trystane asked, the sound of his keys jingling on the other end. 

“Rosa,” Oberyn says before hanging up. If he couldn’t have you, then he would bury himself in someone who resembled you. 

***

Twenty minutes later a knock sounded at his door, and he lifted his gaze from the paper in front of him. “Come in.”

Rosa sauntered in, closing and locking the door behind her as she swayed her hips with each step, she took towards him. 

Oberyn’s gaze trailed up and down the curve of her body and it wasn’t lost on him how the dress she wore was very similar to yours. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. 

Perfect. 

Rosa gasped when he stood suddenly and grabbed her, flipping her around and bending her over his desk. 

He didn’t have time for foreplay tonight. He needed to get relief, and he needed it now. He undid his trousers, letting them fall to his knees as he lifted Rosa’s dress finding her bare beneath. 

He groaned and a small squeak escaped her lips when he spanked her ass. Grabbing her hair he pulled her back toward him. “The only sound I want to hear from you is you moaning my name. Got it?”

Rosa shivered, feeling his hot breath on her skin. “Yes sir.” Pushing her back down onto the desk, he ran his lined himself up and thrust into her. 

Her moans echoed through the room, and he kept his grip on her head so she wouldn’t look back at him. He needed to keep the illusion that she was you. 

His eyes drifted to the monitor and the sight of you pulling his jacket tighter around you had him cumming hard. “Fuck,” he groaned, his hips faltering to a stop. 

“That was amazing,” Rosa said, groaning when he pulled out of her. Oberyn pulled up his trousers and fixed himself before turning to her and ordering her out. 

“I thought you’d like it if I waited and sucked your cock.”

“Get out,” he shouted, his face stern as he watched her scramble out the door.  There was only one set of lips he pictured wrapped around his cock, and it wasn’t hers. 

***

Oberyn sat for what felt like hours in his office, watching you on the screen as you flitted about the room. He was going to find it hard to give you up and he didn’t even know you. 

“Trystane,” he called through the radio. “Yeah, boss.”

“Take Y/N to my room and let her shower. Give her a new set of clothes and have dinner brought to my room.” Oberyn sat back in his chair lifting his feet onto his desk. 

“Sure thing, boss.” The radio crackled to life again as Oberyn held the button. “And Trystane, make it dinner for two.”

Oberyn couldn’t help the smile that threatened to make its way onto his face as he watched you curl into a ball on the cot. You were a sweet innocent little lamb, and he was the devil sent to corrupt you. 

The sound of his phone vibrating with a text pulls his gaze away from you. 

Tell me when and where. And don’t you lay a finger on my daughter, or I’ll end you, Martell. 

Oh, I won't lay a finger on her, I’ll put my goddamn hands all over her. I’ll reach out and grip her close as she rides my cock. Oberyn thought as he looked at the monitor again.

He was going to take you from your family, in more ways than one.

Part 3

Everything: @maievdenoir @amneris21 @hnt-escape @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @jediknight122 @ayrusss @hayley-the-comet @sherala007 @alexxavicry @scorpio-marionette @donnaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @beskarprincessjenny @littlemisspascal @icanbeyourjedi @thatpinkshirt @maryfanson @sunnshineeexoxo @misspearly1 @misspearlssideblog @athalien @its--fandom--darling @sara-alonso @doommommy @browneyes-issac @trickstersp8 @nembees @kaitieskidmore1 @mswarriorbabe80 @allthe-ships @tintinn16 @hungrhay @rosie-posie08 @manuymesut @all-the-way-down-here @iccedays @tusk89 @graciexmarvel @pedrostories @musings-of-a-rose @untitledarea @your-voice-is-mellifluous @majestyjade @avengersfan25 @angstismydrug @everythingfan @pedrosbum @ryangoslingstanktop

[spikeface]

I love the "werewolves burn through calories like wildfire and have supernatural appetites" trope as much as the next guy, but please consider: werewolves can metabolize moonlight, like barky hairy nightplants.

For one thing, I think this is closer to what we see in canon. I recognize that Davis didn't seem to want characters to eat onscreen at all, for the most part, so absence of evidence isn't evidence of absence, but we never see werewolf characters concerned about food. What we do see are things like Scott seeming almost electrocuted by the touch of moonlight (1x08), and Boyd and Cora especially high on it after not being exposed for a while (3x02). Chris even adds that they're not concerned with food (3x03):

CHRIS: There is an important difference to recognize. Wolves hunt for food--at a certain point, they get full. But Boyd and Cora are hunting for the pleasure of the kill--for some apex predatory satisfaction that comes from the ripping of warm bodies to bloody shreds. And who knows when that need gets satiated?

On an intuitive level, it makes sense to me that moonlight would give werewolves a rush of energy and an insane high, and in the comedown, they might need food and drink, but more to deal with the crash of endorphins and serotonin than a genuine need for calories. I think it would lead to angsty grappling--especially for a bitten werewolf, like Scott, who didn't grow up with this--with the nature of food, which might seem inefficient and disgusting after the purity of moonlight. It would be disorienting to realize that you're grossed out by a turkey sandwich when, last night, mauling human viscera seemed like the most delightful thing in the world.

Also, it's incredibly funny to me to think of the pack gathered together after an exhausting full moon of fighting some bad guy, and some collection of Allison, Stiles, Lydia, and Mason are demolishing the entire menu of In-N-Out, while the werecreatures pick listlessly at Gatorade and whine at them to "at least chew, Stiles, jesus."

Lastly, because I'm always thinking about the chimeras and Theo and what it means to be a fake werewolf, I think it'd be so interesting if one of the differences is that someone like Theo can't metabolize moonlight, and so would be dependent purely on food to replace his energy, but also has to spend years pretending he isn't.

[writingwisterias]

Goodbye for now, not forever

Arthur Morgan x GN!Reader

Warnings: Hurt/No Comfort, Death, Spoilers, Chapter 6, sorry not sorry, I cried during this, I miss him so bad Summary: If only you had ignored his last orders sooner you might have been able to give him a better goodbye...

The wind whipped at your hair as you rode, your heels desperately digging into the sides of your horse as you rode through the trees. Ignoring everything you passed, your heart beating widely as you dashed towards the sounds of gunfire. You knew he would be angry you didn't listen, that you blatantly ignored his one order once Sadie and Abigal showed up without him. You couldn't let him go there alone, face them all alone. The gunfire alarmed you the most, you prayed he was okay even in his weakened state. Your voice was becoming horse with the amount you were shouting at your horse, begging it to ride just that little bit faster.

You weren't stupid enough to head back into the camp, you should see the Pinkertons swarming the woods like wolves, their lanterns showing you their locations as you dodged them. It was the distant shouting of his name, the whistles and gunfire that you rode towards. Begging the gods that he was okay, that he could return to your arms and help him find a cure to the sickness. You knew your prayers and wishes were pointless, he had told you just a few days ago he was dying. Yet you were too stubborn to believe him, instead you continued to fuss over him with cures and remedies from one of Hosea's books. You wiped your eyes at the memories, it wasn't the time for tears. Sighing in relief you could spot two figures standing on a rock, the rest lanterns of the Pinkertons circling at the bottom of the mountain like wildfire, along with what you assumed was the gang waiting for their chance to strike as well.

You practically jumped off your horse and rounded the back of the mountain to began you ascend. Ignoring the rocks biting at the palms of your hands as you desperately climbed. "Please be okay" You whispered to yourself as you began to run. You could have whimpered at the sight of John the relief flooding your system almost gone as quick as it came as confusion took place pinching your eyebrows together as you saw the hat and satchel on his body.

"John?" You questioned when you felt his palms against your arms. His eyes leaked with silent tears as you looked at him, he shook his head before trying to drag you away. "You will die if you do this, he wouldn't want that come on" John begged as he tried to pull against you. Neither of you had much time as the lanterns began to close in on the mountains. "I can't John, I have to help him" You cried, trying to pry your wrist out of his death grip. "You can't...I tried" He shouted. You stopped struggling looking at the man in front of you, your lover's brother. "He wouldn't budge, told me to take care of you- don't make me break his promise please" John begged. You shook your head, your last goodbye couldn't have been when he asked you to escort Tilly and Jack to safety. He promised he would return, that you would both be able to move on and get land together. "John...please" You whimpered as you began struggling again.

The gunshot made you both jump, looking towards the ledge from where it came from. You took this moment to finally wriggle out of his grasp, ignoring his pleas as you ran up the mountain. Your gun felt cold in your palm as you unholstered it. Your step slowed as you made it to the top, each with care as you hid in the shadows. You could hear them before you saw them. Their arguments and lies are being spat down towards a body. Dutch hovered over Arthur, where he lay limply. Micah hunched in the shadows as he wormed his way into Dutch's mind. Your gun clicked as you loaded it, bringing it to rest against the back of Dutch's head. Your body was rigid with emotions, your eyes displaying anger as he turned to look at you over his shoulder. "Move"

Your voice was low and menacing as you spat the words at him. Grinning at the sight of Dutch's hands rising as he stepped away from Arthur. Micah's words were distant noise as you aimed your gun at him, standing above Arthur; guarding him from them making the final kill. "I tried Dutch" Arthur coughed from beneath you. Your heart broke at the words, your knees almost wanting to cave in at his admission. Dutch's face softened as he looked down at the dying man before he turned and walked away. He ignored Micah's words as the rat limped behind him. You watched as they both left him here to die. Your knees caved when you looked at him, collapsing in the dust as you moved to support his head. "Arthur" You whimpered as he finally looked at you. His skin was clammy and pale, his eyes bloodshot and watery. "We need to go, please" You whimpered at the man who simply lay there smiling at you. "I can't" He croaked out, coughs raking their way through his chest. His breathing slowed as he looked at you, a bloodied hand raising to rest against your cheek. "My love" he whispered.

He could feel your tears as they dropped on his skin, each one cooling his fever for just a second. The sun glowed orange over the land, illuminating your tear streaks. "Arthur...I need you to get up. We have to go" You cried but he just simply shook his head, the smile never fading from his face. You felt his hand grasp your own holding it as he turned his head to look towards the rising sun. "I don't want to say goodbye" You whispered. His eyes flickered towards you slowly. "It's never a goodbye, I'll see you soon"

He said it like a promise like he was going to wait in the heavens for you with open arms. To finally greet you once again. His chest slowed until eventually, he took his last breath. Arthur's hand became limp in yours, the warmth fading fast. "Arthur?" You whimpered as you looked down at him. His face was finally peaceful, free from all the pain. "Arthur please-" You cried again, moving to look down at him better. You shook him slightly, begging that he wasn't really gone. Eventually, you collapsed on his chest, savouring the last moments. The smell of him, the feel of his chest hair against your skin. Your tears soaked his shirt as you cried. The sun embracing you both into the new day.

[ladychota]

I Don't Need You

Pairing - Loki x Female Reader

Warnings - Angst, arguing (lmk if you want me to add anything)

Summary - Loki wonders why Y/n keeps coming down to the dungeons to see him.

Word Count - 1.1k

Masterlist

"You will spend the rest of your days... in the dungeons."

Odin's words have echoed through your head ever since the day Loki got sentenced.

You wish it hadn't been this way. You wish Loki would've told the truth as to why he attacked Midgard. But his pride and stubborn need to be right got in the way, as always.

You were given strict instructions from the All-father to stay away from your best friend, but there's no way you'll listen to that. Perhaps to Loki and everyone else you're just his friend... but in reality, he means so much more to you than that. You trust him with your secrets, your worries, your life; you only wish he could see you the way you see him.

But none of that matters now. With Frigga's help, you've been able to sneak down to the dungeons to visit him and bring him food and entertainment, but you're not sure how long you'll be able to keep doing it without being suspected by Odin. He knows of the mischief you used to get up to with Loki, and there's no doubt he doesn't trust you in the slightest to follow his rules.

Perhaps, for once, you should listen to him. After all, he is the All-father. He could bestow death upon you with a single wave of his hand, your heart being served to him on a golden platter for his supper. 

Although you don't think you could do that to Loki.

He already has enough on his plate... leaving him alone and giving him no reason for your absence could just kill him. 

It would also kill you.

Ever since Thor was banished, he was different. You hardly saw him; that was lonely enough. But when the news had spread saying he'd fallen from the Bifrost into the abyss? Your entire world came crashing down around you. You grieved for months and months, wishing you had told him your feelings, wishing you had spent more time with him. It felt as though your heart had been ripped from your chest and fed to a pack of wolves.

And then he was back. Rumours spread through Asgard like wildfire - you didn't know which stories were fake and which were true. Frigga eventually sat you down and explained it all. She told you of the events on Midgard and Loki's downfall, and how he is to be sentenced in a few days time.

That was two months ago.

Two months you've been sneaking down to the dungeons to check in and spend time with him. Finding out he's actually been alive this entire time had caused you to want to speak to him about... well, everything.

You'd missed having an understanding friend to talk to about the goings on in your life. And you'd missed the company he would give you. You'd planned on telling him everything you'd regretted keeping from him, but the words always seem to die on your tongue.

So you go down as much as possible. You hope that perhaps at some point the time will feel right; perhaps it will be just as magical as it is in the books, just in a slightly different situation.

You grab a few books you'd collected for him from the library and begin the long trek from your chambers to the dungeons. It always surprises you how well looked after the main floors of the palace are compared to the dungeons. You have no idea how Loki will survive the rest of his life down here...

Using a spell Frigga taught you, you manage to sneak past the guards and into the cold corridors of the dungeons. Monsters scrap behind the golden barriers, or just sit twiddling their thumbs. It's rare to find an Asgardian in this place.

You reveal yourself in front of Loki's cell, a beam plastering itself on your face. He sits reading a book on his thin mattress - as he usually does.

"Hello Loki," You greet. Usually he says something in return, or just simply smiles, but this time he does nothing. So, not wanting to squash your good mood with something that is probably nothing, you continue. "I brought some more books for you. One of them just so happens to be the exact one we read together when I was ill. Do you remember? It was about-"

"Why do you still come down here?" His harsh tone stops your speech, your heart feeling as if the strings holding it up have started to fray.

"Well I-"

"To gloat?" He sneers, placing his book down and walking up to the barrier. "Or perhaps it's pity?"

"No, of course it isn't! Why would you think that?"

"Then why? Why do you go to all the trouble to visit me? We both heard Odin tell you to stay away from this place!" His voice is cold, his manner uninviting. You've never seen him in such a way around you.

"Because I want to! I thought you'd like the company!" You reply, desperately trying to make him believe you.

"Well I don't!" He yells, each word slashing at you like a madman with a sword. "I don't need you at all!"

Tears well in your eyes, everything you thought you knew about the man you love crumbling beneath your fingertips.

"You're weak and pathetic. I'm a God! Do you even know what I did to Midgard?"

You scoff. "Of course I know! Do you really not care about how this whole thing affected me!? I thought you were dead!" Your voice gradually gets louder until you're close to shouting. "And then to be told that you were actually alive but you'd tried to rule over the innocent mortals!? It almost killed me! But I finally had hope. I finally had hope that you'd come back to me!"

Loki stays silent as tears stream down your face. He still doesn't get it. He still doesn't understand how much he means to you.

You swallow the lump in your throat as you prepare yourself for what you're about to say.

"I love you, okay!? I loved you before this whole mess and I still love you now... but I finally get it. I understand that my feelings aren't reciprocated. I just thought you should know before we never see each other again." You hiss the last sentence as you turn your back on the God and begin to walk back to the palace.

"Wait, Y/n please..." He calls after you, but you ignore it. 

He doesn't need you, so why should you go back?

[justanartsysideblog]

A Whisper of Wolves

Robb Stark has heard the stories of the Mad King and his reign, and knows what happened to his grandfather and uncle when called to the Dragon’s court. It is no secret that while the North has accepted Queen Rhaenys as the ruler of the Iron Throne, they hold no love for Rhaegar’s daughter. When word comes from King’s Landing that the queen requests a Lord of the North for her council, Robb goes in place of his father who has not fully recovered from the bloody civil war fourteen years ago. When he arrives, expecting to find traces of the Mad King and his ilk, he realizes that the stories told in the North are not entirely true…and the dark-eyed queen is nothing like her grandfather.

I finally managed to finish the prologue! Enjoy below. AO3 link available here.

—

Prologue

One of Rhaenys’ earliest memories was of sitting atop the Iron Throne.

There were flickers of others, moments of lucidity among foggy recollections; the look upon her mother’s face as her father had given a token to another woman at a tourney, the sound of her father’s harp, the day her Uncle Viserys had called her “sand rat” and her grandfather had laughed.

But none were as clear in her mind as that day, when the screams had ended, and her mother had placed a heavy crown atop her head, bloodied hands trembling.

The air still smelled of smoke and the metallic tang of blood wafted through the throne room as shadows danced among the dragon skulls adorning the walls. The flickering torch light made their eyes gleam and their crooked grins seemed to stretch the more she looked at them. It was frightening, even though she knew she was not supposed to be afraid. You are a dragon, and dragons are not afraid , that was what her father always told her.

Still, she wished that she had been allowed to bring Balerion. She could feel the cold metal even beneath the cushion that had been given to her, and her little legs barely reached the edge of the seat. Her hands were placed firmly in her lap, as her mother had instructed.

“The edges are sharp, you could get hurt.”

Jaime Lannister stood to her right, armor polished bright, expression unreadable. He’d been the first to bow before her and swear fealty as her mother had stood behind her, hand warm and steady upon her back.

He had smiled when he had caught her looking, and she’d smiled back. Even though he’d seemed afraid, he’d made certain to smile at her.

She’d sat there for what felt like hours, as people came and bowed and swore their loyalty to her. They called her “Your Grace” instead of “Your Highness” and she’d tried to tell them they were saying it wrong but her mother said she was a grace now and not a highness anymore, so it was alright.

Only princesses are highnesses. You are a queen.

But her mother was supposed to be queen, when her grandfather died. She was supposed to be queen, and her papa would be king. That was the way things were supposed to be. Her papa had told her so.

“Where is papa?” She’d asked Sir Jaime, but he hadn’t seemed able to answer. Her mother had simply shook her head, and tucked a curl behind her ear.

Men in gold cloaks had lined the hall, and came and went to speak with Sir Jaime and her mother. They’d spoken to them, but they’d continued to bow to her and say “your grace” as if they’d been telling her all along. She did not know what they were talking about, but they mentioned wildfire, and streets, and “storing in safe places”.

Rhaenys had just wanted to sleep. It was past her bedtime, and she’d worried that her mother may have forgotten that she was supposed to read Rhaenys a bedtime story tonight. It had been hard to keep her eyes open, and only the reminder that the throne was sharp and could cut her had kept her from curling up against it and falling asleep.

When Lord Tywin arrived he’d knelt as well but there had been something different about his eyes when they’d met hers. Cold. Calculating. Things she had been unable to discern at so young and age, but that stuck with her for years after.

“Have the rest of the Kingsguard sworn their oaths?”

“Yes, father. All who are in King’s Landing,” Sir Jaime had nodded, voice weary. “It is done.”

Her mother had placed her hand upon her shoulder once more, before she had stepped forward and held out something gold and glittering to Tywin Lannister.

“For your service to the realm,” She had said, as she’d pinned the golden hand of the king upon his breast.

————————

The room smelled of herbs. My uncle must have overindulged last night , Rhaenys thought bemusedly. The slight furrow in Prince Oberyn’s brown as he reached for a cup of tea rather than his usual goblet seemed to prove her correct.

The morning meeting of the Small Council had yet to begin, but she knew already that the day would end in a shouting match. Ser Baelor Hightower, her Master of Coin, was frowning at his report on the recent crop yields, which did not bode well; no doubt the topic of raising yearly taxes would be brought up again. Everyone was present–no one would have dared come later than the Queen–but since she hadn’t started the meeting yet, they waited while looking over missives. Once everyone had settled she waved her hand for the meeting to begin. It did not take long for them to fall into all too familiar bickering.

Once again, her Master of Ships, Lord Gulian Swann, suggested upgrading their navy. Many of their ships needed serious repair and some were barely seaworthy. Not only this, the navy itself lacked sailors. The life at sea was harsh, and their standing navy was small and underpaid due to resources going elsewhere. Which was the counterargument given by her Master of Coin. Adding to the expenditure of the crown when naval battles were not their current priority was not something he would allow unless ordered to.

"Demand more ships from those damn Greyjoys if you need them so badly."

"I need a navy, not a fleet of pirates who are more likely to run than to fight!" Lord Gulian nearly slammed his hand on the table, but a glance at Lord Tywin's stern visage made him pause.

Lord Baelor cleared his throat, "Our coffers are put to better use elsewhere. We have the queen's ascension to the throne to celebrate, and the event must fit the grandeur of Your Grace," He nodded in deference at Rhaenys, who had silently been watching the argument. "We have borrowed too much coin. If we take out another loan we might as well give the throne to Braavos.”

“There is the option of marriage,” Lord Kevan Lannister reminded, then quickly continued as several voices raised in protest. “Not for you, Your Grace.” He nodded his head in a quick bow, “But Princess Daenearys has reached marital age. She would fetch a hefty bride price.”

Rhaenys cleared her throat. “I will be deciding on my aunt’s marriage. It is of no concern to the Small Council.”

“But Your Grace–”

“My decision in this matter is final.” Rhaenys held up her hand to silence her councilors. She knew she could not choose her own marriage partner–Lord Tywin would see to that–but the least she could do was spare Dany the same fate. Besides, Rhaenys was rather certain that supplying their naval fleet was of far more importance than a ceremony celebrating her crowning. She turned to Baelor Hightower, “Is there a way to at least supplement the manpower of our navy with able-bodied individuals from the poorhouses? Many are willing to work if able, I am told.” She glanced at Varys who gave a small nod.

“It would cost less than fixing the fleet as a whole,” Ser Swann admitted, “Though some ships will still need repair.”

“We could pay the poorhouse workers less and use the excess coin for our current repairs,” Hightower conceded. “That could last us until the yearly taxes to the crown.”

“Your Uncle Viserys should also be reminded of his duty to protect our shores as the Steward of Dragonstone,” Lord Oberyn interrupted, ignoring the subtle frown on Tywin Lannister’s face. Instead, he leaned back in his chair with a satisfied grin and took another sip of his tea. The subtle insults traded between the two was normal, and while Rhaenys would prefer that her Hand and her Uncle got along, she knew very well that would never happen.

Lord Tywin’s daughter Cersei had become a bit of a nuisance since her arranged marriage to Rhaenys’ uncle. She’d gotten increasingly demanding with her father, or so Varys told Rhaenys, and Lord Tywin was getting fed up with filling her requests.

Rhaenys had no doubt that Tywin still held hope that his daughter would give him a Targaryen he could manipulate as he wished if he decided Rhaenys was no longer worth the investment. For now, however, Cersei seemed unable to conceive–whether the fault lay with her womb or Viserys’ seed was unknown, at least to anyone outside Dragonstone. Considering none of the women Viserys took to bed were with child, he was the likely culprit. It brought Rhaenys a bit of morbid satisfaction to know that the man who had called her sandrat and her mother a whore was impotent.

Rhaenys waited to see if Tywin would object, but when he remained silent she nodded, “Send my Uncle a missive, and begin preparations for searching the poorhouses.” She cleared her throat, “I do agree that a celebration would be beneficial, but there is no need for a grand tourney. To celebrate I suggest opening some of our grain stores to the citizens of King’s Landing. They will feel gratified to the crown and less likely to cause trouble if taxes must be raised.”

“Then what do you suggest for the nobility?”

“I will hold a banquet for the loyal retainers that helped me sit upon the throne.” Rhaenys watched the council exchange pleased glances before she continued, ignoring her heart hammering in her chest, “And I will invite the Lord of the North as a guest of honor to strengthen our relations.”

There was a brief moment of silence before every council member began to shout.

[enjoythesilentworld]

thank you for the tags < 3 @saynomorefic @skibasyndrome @willesredlights i had to just pick one word from you lovely people because im already in trouble for putting off work to pull this together 😔

Rules: You will be given a word. share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word. My word was PLANT!

P Past evidence of the wildfires that torched their relationship coming up to the surface. {growing towards the light}

L Let me be the object of your desire, because you are mine. {Outlines of You}

A Although, he’s pretty sure it would’ve sounded something like You are beautiful or You have no idea how grateful I am that you are here or You are one of the most precious things in my life and I am so terrified to lose you. {Bachelor Party}

N Next time Wille showed up, he wouldn’t let him in. {lover, please stay}

T There was blood on the floor, a handprint on the table, and smears across the walls which marked Simon’s unsteady movement around the apartment before he’d passed out in the corner. {Running With Wolves}

i think a lot of people have done this / been tagged but here we go again (feel free to ignore me) : @theaviatorthatcouldnotfly @unfortunate17 @peakotp @hergrandplan @gulliblelemon your word is ROAD !

[script-a-world]

Submitted via Google Form:

Does it make any sense to have a world that is entirely vegan because other animals are actually all extinct. You might think with no other animals, this be a world where cannibalistic practices occur more. Well, I never really thought of it because it's that's just nasty. But what would be realistic here? Sure, it may occur as an extreme survival method. But it shouldn't be a normal practice and condemned in every other way. But does make actually make sense in this world with animals going extinct? They do have excellent crops and plenty of ways of getting food. There is no issue with having adequate food supply except for impoverished places. And just like impoverished places in real life, people aren't just resorting to cannibalism as normal. Alright so... for a world with no more animals in its ecosystem... well, how is that even like?? Actually, why is this world even restricted to a planet? There would probably be a lot of people living on moons with no native life and space stations.

Addy: I'm in the middle of finals right now (is it okay to include that? Idk), so you're getting some straight-from-the-tap unpolished thoughts.

Are there insects? 'Cause if this is a post-extinction event, then you've got a whole issue of like... plants that used to be pollinated by insects (beetles, bees, moths, butterflies, ants, etc), birds, etc but now have to be pollinated by wind (which is way less efficient, so you'd probably get stuff that's like cedars or oak trees, where there's just pollen *everywhere*, and other stuff would at least have more difficulty surviving). And then there's... everything. The balance between plants, insects, etc, *everything* is very nuanced. This feels like it'd become the lawn garden equivalent of an ecosystem - alive, but not thriving. Like a garden laden with pesticides, you just... wouldn't get good growth, and that'd spur on its own set of issues.

Plus like. Grazing. Grazing is a huuuuge influence on grasslands, etc, so the removal of all herbivores would... man. That'd do a lot. I don't know if you could even *have* a grassland under this system. Like without grazing, the accumulation of plant matter + wildfire ecology (lightning strikes and all that) would mean huge blazes that would sterilize the soil. Instead of grassland growing back, you'd get like saplings driven on the wind or whatever. Probably.

(Something something Yellowstone when they brought the wolves back, every piece has a role to play)

If there *are* insects, then that'd have its own set of massive issues. Great Famine of China/Great Leap Forward kinds of issues. Like wow. Also insect predation on trees, that'd spur another wave of problems.... everything would be effected. Everything.

If you're on a space station, it's generally assumed that plants are being grown in a tightly controlled artificial environment. Humidity, "rain," light, nutrients, all of that under human (or at least sentient/sophont) control. It isn't expected to be a natural, thriving environment, and it's fairly small-scale. If you have some sort of space garden, it's generally either only plants or plants + some insects + small wildlife. A whole planet... man. Honestly a terrifying thought.

(You thought Silent Spring was bad)

(This is so much worse)

Also, what about fish? Is the whole ocean totally sterile? Are there even krill (or local equivalent)? Phytoplankton, I assume, would be around (also there's a scary thought about like the whole oxygen cycle wow), but... this is just a terrifying prospect for a world.

Oh, and coral! That's an animal, technically. Not really an edible one, but an animal nonetheless. Snails? Jellyfish? Detritivores? Anything to filter the water?

We have no reference for what this would look like. If they want to make a world like this, I'd say the best bet would be to imagine a world sanitized by fire and war and death and ecological omnicide and who-knows-what. Then, on the barren remains of the world-that-was, put a sentient/sophont species with a seed bank. Fern spores. Pollen and sprouts. Some great record of a sliver of the majesty that once was.

In the dust-filled deathworld, this remnant husk of what was once an emerald jewel, there is a structure, and in that structure, there is a person. They have a plot, they have nitrates, they have ammonium, they have potassium, they have phosphorus. They may have mycorrhize, if they're lucky. In that plot, they have a plant. Maybe a few. They save it all for replanting and propagation, and subsist off of freeze-dried rations made before the Happening. They are lucky to be alive.

The world outside is barren. There is nothing to hold together the topsoil. Anything that once was there has rotted and blown away (yay bacteria)(unless those are dead too). The Dust Bowl, on a scale of a world. The Sahara, in comparison, would be a fertile haven of life.

Recovery is slow. Plants, as they grow under the sheltered eye of humanity, decompose once again, cycling through generations as they build up organic matter, thick and lush and *whole*(it can never be whole, too much has been lost, the world will never, ever be the same). The structure expands. Nothing built before the Happening is sealed tightly enough to keep out the dust, microscopic in size as it is.

Coastal regions get some amount of moisture, from the fetid winds that blow off the heaving corpse-lungs of the ocean. Without zooplankton and other organisms to manage the growth of phytoplankton and algae, it is trapped in a cycle of explosion and eutrophication. Life survives in the deepest depths of the oceans, some think, though it, too, may be dead, suffocated by lack of oxygen. Without mollusks or corals or jellyfish or anything to filter the water, the upper layers are thick with rotting plant matter. Some of it sinks, some of it floats. It becomes nutritional matter for the next growth explosion, and that, too, will rot.

A garden is made, sheltered to the extent that it can be. Carefully-selected plants take root in the mulch of their ancestors. Rain is strange and violent, heaved against mountains by wind currents, which themselves are driven by the vast temperature differences of the unevenly-heated planet. There is no friction upon the ground to slow it down, excepting the husks of once-grand cities and their slowly-falling towers. Floods are frequent, in the places that do get rain. Drought prevails elsewhere. Even when rain falls, there is nothing to receive it but silt and clay and stone (and a few spare bacteria). Murky streams of water wind their way to the ocean. Inch by inch, plants come back. Nature will not return for a hundred million years. Until then, until some random quirk of genetics pushes organisms from microbial to sizable, who knows what will happen? If we are lucky, lichens and mosses remain in the great vault of humanity. If we are unlucky, every inch of un-desertification will take holes and effort and windbreaks and labor.

Basically the world kinda needs animals, at least through our understanding of it. Continents are big, and life as we know it has evolved in a web of give and take, push and pull, supply and demand. Without one half of that equation, it is a fundamentally different setup. Maybe algaes can be stable. Maybe they can't. I don't really know. I'd recommend looking into the hows-and-whys-and-whats of various extinction periods in Earth's history to get a better idea of how things happen. It won't capture a picture of what life without animals could look like, but hey, it's something.

Also, cannibalism (at least in humans) is generally only seen as a desperate measure for survival. Prion diseases are a genuine risk, along with whatever else may have killed the person. With how many plagues (and other afflictions) humans can carry, eating a dead person generally isn't worth the risk. Also also, human brains take a lot of protein. That can be obtained through non-animal needs, but it's less efficient (in terms of digestibility and protein density, not in terms of overall energy transformation efficiency of sunshine -> meal). If famine ever hits, a plant-only diet is far more vulnerable to starvation (in times of famine, fish have saved lives).