[[/goes to bed before I stay up all night smutting and having father feels. What a combination]]

"Well, I think it's /cute/. Love button. LOVE button. How sweet! And if it doesn't look like a flower, then I've never seen a flower or that part of you before."

  There is a very good reason I routinely gag you,
    Violet. Well, two good reasons.

11 hours ago     REBLOG
I'm trying not to blush over your asks, BUT I'M BLUSHING OVER YOUR ASKS. You lucky person.

[[These are great tbqh I’m so grateful for my wonderful followers for real and Fae is too HAH]]

gon' put my no-no things in ur squishy place

11 hours ago     REBLOG
I almost want to say I won't if you're going to make me say filthy words like that, and you never seem to sit still long enough for me to explore anyway. But if I had the chance, I'd like to bury my lips in your pretty petals and kiss your love button until the sheets and my chin and throat and your thighs are all wet and sparkling with your excitement. I'd bring you to ecstasy with my fingers and tongue. Would you like that?

   ….Violet what have I told you about ‘love button’ and
     ‘pretty petals’ being a huge boner kill?

There is nothing better after a spar, when the physical attempt to outwit your opponent becomes a need to be closer to them, to finish what you start on the battlefield not with blood but with pleading and moans. It'd be a fight of course, I can never go quietly, but you always win don't you? Whether through cunning, or your sheer size it always ends with me beneath you, writhing and pleading and begging, desperate for anything to end the desperately slow way you take it, wishing you fucked like

- - you fought, but no, you don’t because you know that’s what I’d want. So instead you draw it out, minute by minute. Taking off my layers of clothing slowly, just like my patience, but never giving same. Keeping my hands trapped, and whispering demands every time I struggle until my insults die on my tongue. Until I finally stop fighting back and give in. Then and only then you finally let me have what I’m begging for, what you’ve waited for. Because you always win, don’t you Faerys?


So many hopes dashed, fears confirmed, in a matter of seconds. His love was gone, his family was in pieces, and he could do nothing to change it. He would never see Carver’s scowl again, never tease a kiss from Leandra, he’d be lucky to catch a glimpse of Bethany’s handwriting.


His arms came around her on instinct, pulling her to him gently. He stroked her hair as tears started down his face, shoulders trembling uncontrollably as he thanked the Maker that there was anything left, that his dear eldest girl had survived it all.

"Oh, love. No…it’s not your fault." He kissed her head and held her tighter. She had been through so much, more than he could fathom. He knew without asking that she had done all she could. More than anyone had the right to ask of her.

"I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you."

 Conflict rages within her and she wants so badly to remain still, to 
 forget it and to allow her sorrows to pour. But she cannot and as
 quickly as those walls cracked she scrambles to rebuild them. She
 pushes away, steps back as hands rise to reddened eyes and looks
 away. When she looks back, there is a tear-stained scowl, and her
 jaw sets.

Why? She hisses, and immediately begins to feel better — more
 herself. it is easier to be angry than to hurt. Why could you not be
 here for almost ten years?


 So many more questions ached to be asked but she didn’t trust
 her mouth to remain open for long, and so it clamped closed, arms
 folding as though they could wall him off from her.

12 hours ago   22    REBLOG
"blood play."


I would lay back after whispering heated words and lust soaked fantasies to you. I would tell you how much I ached for you as teeth nipped at your flesh and fingers began to peel away my wears. My eyes would lock to yours as I backed up, discarding the barriers between us as I offered myself to your and your hungry gaze. I would not fuck you, not this time. Tonight belongs to you, Faerys Hawke. Tonight you get to touch, to feel, to explore every inch of me there is to give. You may have me-

-in any way you desire, for as long as you crave. Love me, Fuck me, Need me. I am yours, I always have been.

     Much better.

I'd make you scream with pleasure. Then beg me for more.

    …Is this what counts for seduction these days? Tch.

Okay to help my friend feel better reblog if…


you are okay with Roleplaying with male muns

  • no matter their sexuality 
  • no matter the gender of their muse
  • no matter what as long as they are nice like everyone else should be. 
13 hours ago   8586    REBLOG



He staggered back, pain lancing through his face. She gave him no chance to recover, driving him further until his back hit stone. Her every word lanced his heart, anger and hurt in her voice deepening the wound.

And then she came to Carver. Leandra. Bethany. The lights of his life. He felt gutted, as though the Maker himself had reached down and torn his soul in two. All he could do was stare at her in horror.

Slowly his voice returned, a shaky whisper at best. “I…I woke up in a village in the Bannorn. Lothering had been destroyed, the Blight had come. I must have walked all over Ferelden twice looking for you. I never thought you would come to Kirkwall, Maker forgive me, I didn’t…”

Emotions clawed at his throat. Gone. Proud stubborn Carver, dead. Darling sweet Bethany, imprisoned. Dear, dear love Leandra. Dead. He couldn’t breathe.

 Fingers curled around the edges of his wears as she finally stopped
 pushing against him. After all, she had no further to push unless she
 actually wanted to deal serious injury. But shaking fingers gripped at
 the same time as knees sagged and she struggled to keep her weight
 upright as that of the past bore down on her.

 Dead. She’d never yet said the word before. Never allowed herself 
 to grieve. Not with her father, when her mother needed her. Not with
 Carver, when Bethany had needed her. By the time she lost her mother
— to bottle it was habit.


 She faced it now in his eyes. There was no lie there, nothing but sorrow.
 The pain of a man who had lost everything in mere seconds. She fell
 against him then, forehead pressing into his shoulder as finally, for the
 first time in almost ten years, gave in with a childlike whimper.

I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t keep them safe. I… —



13 hours ago     REBLOG


        “Of course it was our dear uncle.

He should have guessed that much. Gamlen
tore open every letter that was left unattended.
If he was thinking about giving Carver grief for
this, then the old man had another thing coming.
He found himself wishing that their uncle would
do exactly that, giving Carver an excuse to hit him
right on his ugly nose. Mother would never forgive
him, which oddly enough did not stop him from
wanting to punch Gamlen. At all.


    “Right. I’m sure you did.he growled. Heavy boots
stomped deliberately on the wooden floor. The toe of
the right foot connecting with the bed frame when
Carver suddenly lashed out.

      “She knew how important this was to me!
          What am I supposed to do now?

 She should have expected him to kick something. After all,
 she would have done the same. Nevertheless she flinched,
 giving a quiet sigh as her arms folded beneath her chest. But
 an idea came to mind, one she thought just might cheer her
 dear brother up.

You should come with me. We have an overstock of eggs in
  the pantry and I know of some disgustingly orange uniforms
  that could use redecorating.

 Aveline would perhaps murder her for the chaos that would
 ensue should Carver take her up on the offer, but the Guard
 could hardly complain if she truly had a hand in preventing
 Carver’s position.



His heart ached at the sound of her voice. It had been years since someone had called him that, years that felt like an age. As hard as they had been for him, he could not imagine what she’d gone through. Just looking at her told him she’d changed in many ways.

"Yes…yes, love, it’s me."

 Almost immediately she looks away, as though to stare at him too long
 would be to prove him a ghost. She hadn’t noticed she’d been holding
 her carving knife so tightly her fingers bled, but she saw the crimson
 then as she dropped it to the ground. It made her nauseous, and her
 hand shook as her teeth grit.

 Without warning, she looked up with a fury in her eyes that he might
 never have seen before before reeling her elbow back and sending
 that bleeding fist into his jaw.

Where the hell have you been?! All of these years, all of this time…!
 Do you even know what has happened? Have you any clue what I’ve
 had to deal with? With every word spoken, flattened palms struck his
 shoulders, shoving him back as though she could push him back out of her life.

Carver is dead! Mother is dead! Bethany is in the Circle! We needed you!
 How dare you show up now and claim to be my father!