#gorbo_writes

Maul’s Sensitive Horns

Spreading by grayaroace Maul agenda with tgis one through subliminals and implications :3 But here you go, Maul sensitive horns drabble for you dear anon!!

Tags: Gender neutral reader, slight sexual themes, domesticity, fluff.

Maul did not let just anyone touch him, and thankfully, after much luck and patience, you were no longer considered ‘just anyone.’ It was not an easy task for Maul to love, something about how he was wired. Even before he was cut in two, he lacked certain… appetites. Not that this surprised you. Maul seemed to have a one track mind, more focused on his machinations than his weary flesh. Whenever he laid with you, it was your satisfaction that he was fixated on. You already did so much for him, perhaps he considered this a viable repayment, or maybe he enjoyed the control that came with having you writhing against the mattress. 

Either way, Maul’s lack of interest in his own body made room for what you considered to be the most amusing activity that you had found yet. 

Here you were, laid on your back with Maul’s head against your stomach as he scrolled through a datapad. Such soft domesticity from him was only ever bestowed upon you when he was certain that the two of you were away from any prying eyes. You ran your fingers along his scalp, your pupils dilating when Maul gave you a full body shiver. Pausing, you waited for him to address it, falling into a frown when he continued reading instead. 

“What was that?” You finally asked.

Maul hummed, a low rumble deep in his chest. “Does it truly surprise you to find me… unused to such contact?” 

No, you supposed it didn’t. With hesitant fingers, you threaded your hand between his horns once more. “I’ll stop when you tell me to. If it makes you uncomfortable.”

Maul’s eyes flicked to meet yours, searching for some hidden treachery that he seemed to always be waiting for. As if whatever kindness you gave him would be laced with a betrayal. Like always, he found none, and turned back to his datapad. Despite this, his body did not relax. “I still do not understand how you can say that so easily.”

“Don’t you find it easy to do the same for me?” When he didn’t respond, save for a wrinkle of his nose, you knew you had won. 

Careful not to startle him, you started slowly, running your nails along his scalp and between his horns. That got you a shaky sigh from his nose and his grip tightened on his datapad. You froze, but when you received no reprimand, you continued your ministrations. 

The horns themselves were not sensitive, but as you pressed the pads of your fingers against the skin at the base, what could only be described as a swallowed moan echoed through the small room. Your grin grew even more and you sat up to give yourself more leverage. Pinching and massaging, you focused solely on your task until Maul’s datapad was flat against his chest, with his hand resting atop it, and his eyes were closed. 

“Let me know if I should stop,” You murmured, giving special attention to the horns at the base of his skull. 

And for request

Could you pls write something for conquest with gn! reader that's like the only one to tell him what to do, other than thragg

Or like where gn!reader is the only one Conquest likes, and like after conquest beat up Makr he comes back to earth and everyone is obviously on edge until he comes to apologise and reader is also there with a disappointed stare. Making sure he actually apologises.

I need someone to love conquest and "fix" him pls pls pls

Man oh man, I’ve had this idea of someone reading to Conquest after his first fight with Mark in my head for like… ever. This request was my excuse to get it out there. The events of s4 are both quick and vague, mostly because I have not watched that season yet. Hangs head in shame. I really do hope you like this anon, Conquest is just a violent dog to me. He CAN be fixed with proper care and training, amen. And petplay— WHO SAID THAT? The wind is loud today…

Content warning: Gender neutral reader, giving Conquest a dog motif, reader gets fired from the GDA.

Word Count: 2k

- It all began, as most things did, with a job at the GDA. To put it lightly, you were a grunt with a bleeding heart. Before this, you spent your days volunteering, mostly at a local animal shelter, though you were well known throughout the community. Your specialty was training dogs— particularly the reactive ones, the ones that were dangerous. Animals from fighting rings who had only ever known violence or abuse, creatures who flinched or snapped at whatever kind of tender touch you offered. No matter what, you gave rehabilitation for these dogs everything you had within you. After all, if you failed, euthanasia was the next option. No matter how traumatized it was, a dog was an animal, and you didn’t need the poor soul to hurt someone, god forbid a child. Eventually, the work started to get to you, too many failures and not enough money. Using your degree and the connections from your father — the only real thing he ever provided — you got your job working under Cecil Stedman. With your track record for taking in strays, he should have known this would have happened.

- Conquest was terrifying up close, even kept locked up tight in his binds and entirely unconscious. He was huge, still somehow breathing despite his grievous injuries. Marring what remained of his mutilated face were scars that you had only ever seen in fighting dogs. Against your better judgement, the comparison began to squirm in your chest. Conquering planets was in his name, what he had done in his fight with Invincible was unspeakable… But, maybe that was all that he knew. You stared up at him, slumped and sleeping, even then, he couldn’t relax. It reminded you of the pups that you had once cared for, unable to turn off their aggression to rest. Every ounce of them was strung tight, a livewire of fear and anger that you couldn’t help but feel empathy for. Against all orders, you came up with a stupid little idea, a plan that you wanted to try, and maybe, in the end, it would—

- Maybe, all this poor old dog needed was a gentle hand. 

- Once, you had read that speaking to coma victims would help them not feel so alone. Whether they could actually hear their loved one’s voices depended on the person, but a Viltrumite had such good hearing, you were sure that Conquest would hear you. Sneaking in your collection of books and novels was easy enough in comparison to tip-toeing your way into Conquest’s holding chamber. It was lucky that you were so nice, the guards always looked the other way when they saw you coming with a book under your arm, and they always warned you when to leave in case you were caught. Sometimes, you were able to read to Conquest for hours, sometimes only twenty minutes. Either way, that snarl on his face slackened whenever he heard your voice. 

- Unbeknownst to you, Conquest was awake. Had been for sometime now. He could have shattered this flimsy prison within seconds. The only reason he stayed was because of your sweet voice. He had heard it in his dreams when he was healing, gentle and kind, soothing in a way that no one had ever spoken to him. Not with fear, but full of barely contained affection like he was something to be cared for. When he awoke, if it wasn’t for the fact that your voice had slowly seeped into his awareness, the reality that this was no dream, but there really was some sweet, stupid insect reading to him, of all things, he decided to stay. Feign his slumber, just to feel it a little longer. This warmth that seeped over his skin with every word out of your mouth. As soon as he woke up, all of that would be over. The fear would be back and he would be Conquest again. He would like to be whoever he was now to deserve such treatment for a little while longer. It would be the first and last time he’d ever get it.

- Sometimes, when you were feeling particularly stupid, you would touch Conquest. Pat his head and cup his cheeks to scratch under his chin. You would see his lips quirk ever so slightly and your heart would swell. Poor beast has never felt a tender touch in his life, you found yourself thinking. All Conquest could do was force himself to not lean into your touch. He was a man of blood and impulse, so keeping himself still was fraying his already damaged self-control. Your hand was so soft, uncalloused, though he could feel little pin pricks of scar tissue from where you had been bitten. It wasn’t hard to figure out why considering that you were out here touching him. You seemed to have a bad habit of petting violent animals. 

- Of course, all good must come to an end. Conquest knew that his failure would do him no favors in the eyes of Thragg, nor would taking his sweet time to announce it. Basking in the affection of a bug was not a good excuse, yet Conquest remained, if only to feel it a little longer. Eventually, he would have to open his eyes and leave this gentle prison, back to a world of carnage and fear. It would be nice to see you, put a face to the voice, and watch your smile twist into terror. The thought knotted Conquest’s stomach despite it being the way of things. 

- The day that Conquest awoke, you dropped the book that you held and jerked to your feet. It was hard not to flinch when his one good eye landed on you, his lips pulling back to show off mangled teeth. Either a smile or a snarl, you weren’t sure. It was a habit to avert your gaze from his so as not to antagonize him further. 

- “Don’t tell me that you’re afraid of me now, sweet thing.” Conquest chuckled, looking like he had expected it. There was no disappointment, only an understanding that this was who he was. Alarms blared as he peeled back the metal keeping him contained with the ease of an orange. “C’mon, look at me. Let me see those eyes.”

- What you said next was what surprised him. Your pupils snapped up to meet his own, and though you were shaking, you took a tentative step towards him. There was hope in your expression and how easy it would be to snuff it out. Conquest’s fingers twitched. “Could you hear me?” You said. “Did you like my books?”

- Conquest didn’t respond. Floating towards you, he reached out his good hand, big enough to engulf your head and pop it like a trap. You couldn’t stop from flinching, not even as he ruffled your hair. It was rough, like he had never touched something gently before. Trying your luck, you placed your shaking palm against his knuckles. “I… Hope I made it a little easier for you.”

- His fingers moved to wrap around your skull, only stopping halfway. “You should remember me.” There was a hint of warning in his croon that sent a shiver down your spine. “I know I’ll remember you.”

- With that, he shot through the roof, the sonic boom from his take off enough to make you protect your face with your arms. Conquest was gone, leaving you with an open door and an annoyed Cecil, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. “You understand that I have to fire you, don’t you?”

- You hung your head. “Yeah.”

- Days went on relatively normally after that. Thankfully, the GDA had a decent severance pay, enough to last you until you found a new job. Donald was sweet enough to be your reference, getting you another, far less dangerous, well paying job. You got back into dog training and volunteering on the side, the hours of your new job less demanding than the previous. More bites appeared on the flesh of your arms, but each one was worth it in the end. You would keep your breathing even, avert your eyes, and talk softly — sweetly — until the animal let up. No raised voices, no firm hand, only a gentle scratch between the ears if they would allow it.

- The day you saw him again, you were walking a few of the dogs from the shelter through a nearby park. It would have been impossible to miss him, even with the baseball cap, if his size didn’t give him away, you knew that gnarled scar. Your dogs heeled, as trained, and you approached with steps loud enough not to startle him. “New around here, sir?”

- As he turned, the air seemed to shift, aggression making it feel thick like molasses. Beside you, the dogs began to growl, calmed only by a soft hush uttered under your breath. When his eyes met yours, the energy in the air slackened as recognition made his lips pull back into that half-snarl, half-smile, his teeth somehow more crooked than before. “Well, look at you. You’re still afraid of me.”

- “And you still haven’t killed me,” You counter, albeit with a friendly, almost teasing tone. Conquest’s smile didn’t abate, though he did raise his eyebrows at the audacity. Here he was, and there you were, trembling, yet looking at him with such a sweet expression. 

- “Nah, not yet. I still might. Been considerin’ it.” He spoke of your imminent demise with an ease that made your body tense to run. Gritting your teeth was the only action you could take aside from giving in. Inhaling slowly, you calmed yourself as best you could and offered your hand.

- Now would be when this dog bit you. Fingers outstretched, all within crushing distance. You were made of styrofoam and cardboard to him, so fragile and fleeting it was unfathomable. A part of you was braced for the feeling of every bone in your arm disintegrating into ash, even less prepared when his flesh hand engulfed yours with far more tenderness than you expected. He flipped your appendage around, inspecting it for any bombs or triggers. “Maybe a nice dinner will make you think twice.”

- A boisterous laugh left him. “I’ve already thought about it three times, maybe more the longer you stand there.”

- You let your hand fall loose to coil against the fur of one of your dogs. She was all scars and teeth, looking at you with love and trust that you doubted she dared to give anyone before you. “It’s sweet to know that you think of me,” You said kindly.

- Rather than laugh, Conquest raised his eyebrows again, causing his scar to twist his features. Never has anyone ever smiled at the idea of being on his mind. “Ahhh, dinner will be good,” Conquest said more to himself than anyone else. And dinner was good. Enough so that he chose to stay and that empty little guest room became occupied.

- With your expertise working with those trained to kill and be violent, turning them into the sweetest little pups, was it any real surprise that you had Conquest wrapped around your finger? Time passed, Viltrumites hidden on Earth in plain sight — Conquest’s only salvation being your makeup skills covering up his scar — and you had your own Viltrumite well trained. He took to your work like a bee to honey, laughing when those broken canines latched their teeth onto him, giving room for you to swoop in with a sweet voice and treats. It was nice for the pups to have someone to be rough with, and it was good to know that Conquest was there to help if one of your dogs got too frightened. 

- When you said come, Conquest was there within seconds. When you said heel, he would cross his arms and huff, disappointed, but he would ultimately listen, hovering by your side, waiting for you to say sic. You never did, much to his dismay. Eventually, the day came where Conquest was found by an unhappy Invincible, but when all it took from you was a nasty glare to get him to stand down, everyone decided it was easier to leave him in your care.

Tags: Gender neutral reader, age gap for both Conquest and Cecil to varying degrees, Viltrumite!Reader in Conquest’s, slight angat in Cecil’s, masochist Conquest is real to me, I am spreading my propaganda.

Thank you for being the first request ro christen this blog! I did Cecil and Conquest falling for a subordinate. This is my first time writing for them so I hope I did them justice!!! :D

Cecil Stedman

- As the newest suit in the Pentagon, answering directly to Cecil Stedman on matters of the Guardians of the Globe, and all forms of global catastrophe, it would be entirely ridiculous for feelings to bloom on this particular battlefield. While you weren’t considered young by the general populace, Cecil was older than you by more than a decade. That was problem number one. Problem number two was that he was steadfast (steadfast? stedman. ha, amusing) in his duties, and… somewhat repressed, you had come to notice. Nothing would come from this little crush that sprouted and took root in your chest, that was something you knew as simply as breathing. Still… That didn’t mean that you couldn’t be nice.

- Almost too nice. Whenever Cecil entered the room, you would offer him a smile and a nod for a greeting. Short, simple, and somewhat appreciated. If it wasn’t for your newness to the team, he may have found the behavior odd. As a boss, Cecil was not the most personable. Time passed, and your friendly nods of greeting didn’t stop, not even after those handful of times that he had to thoroughly reprimand you for some little nonsense you got up to. Leaving the coffee machine in in the breakroom, and, most embarrassing, that one time when you bricked your computer clicking on a strange link. “Earth needs you to be at your best, kid. No more stupid mistakes.” Maybe he was softer on you because of those little acknowledgements and the times you offered him an extra cup of coffee that you had “accidentally” made. For a while, he hardly noticed this special treatment, too caught up in his work to focus on how that too-young newest employee caught his attention. It wasn’t until a slow moment, with no world-ending disasters looming, did he realize that he sought you out in the sea of subordinates.

Or if you’d like maybe maul with a reader who’s likes to make things and makes something for maul? Like a piece of clothing or something because I promise you mauls NEVER received a gift in his life and would treasure it greatly 🥺

Thank you, you can ignore if you want!

Giving Maul a Gift

Hello! I’m not super well versed in force lore, like the living force and all of that, so I did giving a gift to Maul. I hope that’s okay! Wrote this on my break at work too, so please forgive me if there’s any mistakes 😭 I’m trying to beat the clock.

Word Count: 1K

Tags: Gender neutral reader, fluff, can be read as platonic or romantic, that’s all!

- One of your true talents was to create. It was to take materials into your hands and thread them together into something coherent. There were many hobbies that you called your own, many skills that you had honed over the years — painting, sculpting, needlework — but the one you decided to utilize for the sake of this undertaking was knitting. Maul was not someone who would appreciate something frivolous and without use, no matter how far his affection for you stretched. Despite this, even if you gifted him something that he found no use for, at this point in your relationship, you could imagine him letting out a small hum, not much else. He wouldn’t throw it away, but you were not deluded enough to think that your gift wouldn’t collect dust. That wasn’t what you wanted. 

- In the end, considering that the next planet you were headed to had a remarkably cold climate, you decided on making Maul a pair of gloves. Nothing flashy, a plain black, and made from wool both expensive and notorious for conserving heat. It took a bit to sneakily buy some from under Maul’s nose. His affection was protective, and those he considered himself close to, he kept an eye on. When you started acting shifty to keep Maul’s gift under his radar, it did not go unnoticed. All it did was ensure that Maul watched you almost incessantly. It was a habit born from anxiety, both for your safety and his own. Maul had been betrayed by many in the past, adding you to that ever growing list may be what finally destroyed him. For all of your observations, this was one fact you remained unaware of, so caught up in your surprise gift that the thought never crossed your mind. 

Man thank you so much for this ask, I was so very excited to start on it because oh my god Maul is like a disease, and boy am I infected. This is my first tome ever writing for him, so I hope I captured him well! Please feel free to send in more requests in the future for Star Wars, unfortunately it seems that I am possessed.

Tags: Gender neutral reader, brain damage, severe injuries, Maul is kind of mad about the whole ordeal

Word Count: 1.6k words

- It was stupid of you. Even if you survived, the likelihood that Maul would forgive you for this was low. That wasn’t what you were thinking when you did it, though. Your body had moved on its own, legs pumping to jump in front of the shot meant for him. When it hit, it took a moment for the pain to set in. All you could think was, I’m such an idiot.nMaul was force sensitive, he would have been able to dodge, or deflect the bolt, or— or— something. What you had done was entirely unnecessary. Agony bloomed from your abdomen, then your stomach flipped as you teetered backwards off of the platform and into the abyss below. Maul reached for you, the air around you tightened, slowing your descent, sure to stop it if his attention hadn’t been pulled by the buzz of an inquisitor’s saber and more blaster fire. You were falling again. The last sight you saw before your vision went dark was a lost expression on Maul’s face before it hardened into anger. If you survived this, you were really in for it. You doubted that you’d live long enough for regret to set in, however.

- Hours later, you awoke in abject misery. Clenching your fists, your entire body tensed and trembled as waves of pain wracked your body. Your head was spinning, too dizzy to focus on anything but the white hot agony lancing up your spine. When you landed, you must have hit your head. It wasn’t good if you were out for hours. More than likely, you had a severe concussion, if not something worse. The burn on your abdomen pulsed with every breath, and you were almost certain that your right leg was broken. You twitched the appendage and swallowed a scream. Definitely broken. What could only be sewage lapped at your skin, sure to give you an infection unlike any other. Why couldn’t you have died on impact? The death that awaited you now would be slow and painful. Your head was so scrambled that the thought of anyone coming to save you barely flickered to life, only to be snuffed back out whenever you tried to focus on it. Deep in your brain, some primal part of you begged you to move, to get back home to someone. How could you do that when you could barely think? Blinking, you lifted up your chin to realize that you were crawling. Dragging yourself forward with your forearms, your bad leg dragging behind you. When you opened your eyes, your head throbbed, so you decided to blink slowly to ease the strain. You were moving, but… for how long?

- Back on the platform, Maul was furious at a multitude of factors. Himself, his foes, and more specifically, you. How dare you leave him alone again, especially after all that he had done for you. Feeding you, clothing you, loving you, and yet you forsake that with your own heroic idiocy. Now you were gone, and once again, Maul had no one. The rage that he felt from that fact alone was what fueled his victory, hollow now for there was no one to relish in that with, save for himself. Maul was tired of himself.

- Ever since Lotho Minor, Maul’s mind had been more… fragile. Prone to episodes and hallucinations, driving him to whatever madness that had swallowed him whole. Visions of you filled every leaking crevice of his skull, of your smile, your touch, your broken body laying limp where he could not find it. If only you had not been so stupid. Maul knew what it was like to be alone and injured, and while he would wish that upon his worst enemy in a heartbeat, you were not that. If he could take your suffering and give it to others — he had a few in mind — he would. It was this particular distraction, the broken shards of his sanity, that kept Maul from noticing the spark of your force signature still shining for far too long. Even a second would have been too long, but this? As soon as he realized that you were still alive, everything snapped back into place. Maul straightened, furious at both you and himself, and took it upon himself to find you. It would not take long.

- Splashing dragged you back into awareness. Someone was approaching, yet you could not bring yourself to be afraid. Every part of you was begging for you to stop, to allow death to take you. You opened your eyes, the view blurry and distorted, barely able to make out a pair of boots in your line of sight. The splashing had stopped. A hand prodded at the back of your skull, sending a jolt of pain when it found the wound there. All you could do was groan. 

- There was a sigh and the hand pulled back to inspect his fingers. “It seems your punishment will have to wait.” You could make out the whirring of machinery as he crouched down to look you in the eyes. Every blink lasted too long. Maul clicked his tongue in disapproval. “One of your pupils is larger than the other. You will be dealing with the effects of these injuries for some time.” More footsteps approached as people who could only be the mercenaries your lover hired lifted you onto a stretcher. When you flinched, you could hear Maul snap for them to be gentler. 

- “I can’t think right,” You slurred, the words bordering on unintelligible.

- Maul hummed, looking both concerned and vindicated. “Perhaps this should be a lesson for you to avoid performing anymore feats of heroism. Especially for those who do not need it.” With those last two words, he brought his face closed to yours, hissed out between bared teeth. As your eyes rolled back into your head, you could barely make out the worry that flickered across his face before he hardened once more and barked for his men to hurry.

- For the next few weeks, you were in and out of sleep. Most of the time when you opened your eyes, you saw Maul at your bedside, his hands folded and one leg kicked out with his eyes shut. He would have looked calm if not for that familiar wrinkle of his nose when he sensed that you were awake. Distantly, you recognized that he was angry with you. Rather than deal with it, you would close your eyes and sink back into sleep again, much preferring to heal rather than take the tongue lashing that he had in store for you once you were cognizant. 

- Correction. Tongue lashing was too kind. What actually happened was that Maul metaphorically throttled you with it. Ultimately deserved, you conceded, but you wished that he had waited until you weren’t bed ridden to do it. You may have been dumb enough to jump in front of blaster fire for him, but you weren’t so blind to not notice that Maul was holding himself back. You had been awake more often than not for some time now, and he spent that time either coaxing you into clumsily eating your meals — unfortunately brain damage meant that your movements were not as graceful or learned as they were before — or pacing back and forth at the foot of your cot, muttering to himself. Sometimes, you could make out your name, followed by the word ‘fool,’ with a sharp growl after. It seemed to take all of his effort to not allow his lips to curl back, baring his teeth at you, when you met his eyes. He was furious, yes, but he also wanted you to be fully able to absorb what he had to say when he said it. That, or he had maybe half of a nurturing bone somewhere in his body, much to your surprise. Perhaps it was a little of both. 

- After your chewing out was over and you were thoroughly cowed, Maul left you to digest and to get himself in check — he wanted you to understand what you had done to him, not upset you into being hurt (you had already hurt yourself enough for that). Being in a relationship with Maul required you to not only be patient, but willing to empathize and analyze what every word meant. Jumping into anger yourself would get you nowhere, especially when his emotions were already high. While you regretted your decision that got you here in the first place, it was your love for him that drove you to do that. You wanted him to know that. In order for such an ‘argument’ — because that was how he would see it — to be well received, you had to give Maul some time alone to wallow. 

please

Like I need him crawling if he like upsets the reader, I need him yearning for kisses he is denied because he's been bad, hunched and begging for forgiveness

PLS PLS PLS PLS PLS

Not exactly whimpering and miserable Conquest, but he is getting off on being your dog, so… win? I do think that ultimately even when he’s subbing, it’d be a little hard for Conquest to give up control completely? Especially at first. I can be swayed on this, though. I think he’d see any weakness of yours and kind of dig into it in a way that gives himself back power. I’m just rambling now, but Dogquest is here.

Word count: 630 words

Tags: Gender neutral reader, unspecified action that irritated Reader, puppyplay but Conquest is definitely more dog than puppy, Reader fumbling into being a dom.

“Come on, honeybunny, don’t be like that.”

Over the years of dating the terrible Conquest, you have developed quite an essential skill. You could read him like a book. He stood over you, his mouth pulled back in a smile and his arms outstretched for a hug. If you didn’t already know that his time on Earth was but a blip in his lifetime, the fact that he was still so awkward with acts of affection proved that. He knew that you were angry, and in the past, a bit of sweetness was enough for your shoulders to slacken. Not this time, though.

Crossing your arms, you stuck your nose in the air. “No, not this time. You won’t make a fool of me so easily again.”

“If lovin’ on you makes me a fool, then I—”

“Am the biggest fool of all?” You finished for him with a scoff. Now you were facing him, hitting him with the full force of your displeasure. If anyone heard you say that Conquest looked like a kicked puppy, they would have thought that you were exaggerating, but here he was, with wide eyes and a droopiness to his frame that made triumph burn in your gut. “I’ve heard it all, Conquest! If I know what you say all of the time, shouldn’t you be able to guess what comes out of my mouth next?”

“Sweetheart—” Again with the saccharine pet names. Conquest had a penchant for them, layering them further when he was trying to earn your favor. It would not work this time. “— You know I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Then beg.” The words left you so fast that you didn’t know what to do with them. Your eyes widened, and you opened your mouth to take them back, only to watch with rapt attention as Conquest sank to his knees.

“Forgive me,” He breathed. Your face erupted into a flaming heat and you watched as a grin spread across his face, showing off his endearingly crooked teeth. “My other half, forgive me.”

“Good dogs…” Uncertainty leaked into your tone, strengthened only by the bulge in Conquest’s jeans. Whatever heat was in your face leaked downward toward your groin. “Good dogs do as they are told.”

All of your anger was suffocated under the force of your arousal in regards to this strange new situation. You weren’t sure of who held the power here, you or Conquest, but you did know that, for now, he was yours to command. More than likely his will, a request you’d be stupid not to indulge. 

Conquest reached down to begin to palm himself through his pants, freezing when you let out a tut of disapproval. He was panting now, his face flushed and his grin never waning. “You gonna tell me what to do now?”

Okay these are just thoughts on how I think Nolan would react to a significant other like this, it’s a bit different from my other headcanons, which were more of a scenario than anything else. These headcanons are more of a ‘how he would react/handle’ and also based more on pre-season one Nolan, though I think some of it carries through. I will be so honest with you, I forgot to explicitly include rhe age gap, but it’s vague enough that I think you can read into it. Praying that you enjoy, anon 😔

- First of all, I don’t think Nolan really has a body type preference, before or after Earth. Before season one, while he holds a fondness for humanity, and despite them being virtually identical to Viltrumites in appearance, all humans are the same to him. It’s hard to live for millenia and see such a weak and fragile species as his equal, no matter what amount of traitorous affection blooms in his chest for them. Some of it is earnest, some of it is pure, unfiltered copium, but, in the end, you are processed in Nolan’s mind as a particularly cute dog. There is genuine love there despite the fact that there is no changing that he will outlive you. Nor is there is any changing the fact that you are made of tissue paper in comparison to him. All of this is to say that humans are not held up to Viltrumite standards of perfection, and that, in truth, I think he would find someone plus sized endearing.

- On a more human aspect, your body is soft, none of the hard edges that he is used to. Nolan is used to the strict and rigid ideals of his home, no weakness can be shown— he cannot falter. With you, the way your body melds into his touch, the plushness of your flesh when he lays his head upon you after a rough day, it is both so foreign and everything he has ever wanted at once. Can you blame him for craving it?

,,, a little writey piece centered around Raymun Fossoway or Lynonel Baratheon x male reader :)?

Greetings and sluntantations, my dear friend. I know who you are anon. Anyway, here is a Raymun Fossoway drabble for you, I don’t know if I have the power to capture Lyonel’s swag. I hope you enjoy!

Summary: You and Raymun find a discarded corset and you decide to show him what your life as a woman was like, way back when. It’s unfortunate for him that you enjoy teasing him more often than not.

Tags: Trans male reader & inaccurate ASOIAF lore. I am like 90% sure there’s no corsets in that world. Bear with me.

With a smile that could almost be mistaken as cruel, even under the warm glow of the campfire, you wrapped the cords of the corset around your palms and pulled.

A wheeze ripped from Raymun, his back forcibly straightened by your lack of mercy. He sounded out of breath as he spoke, “Must it be so tight? Surely it wasn’t this tight for you.”

A tittering, girlish giggle escaped you. “All you have are assumptions, my friend. You could not fathom the heavy hands that my maids had at their disposal.”

Rather than respond — for he surely knew that it was futile — he hung his head and allowed you to continue your work. 

Raymun Fossoway was the only person who you would allow your womanly habits, that which you had been learned and born, show through. He was always the last to judge. That day when he saw your unbound chest stuck out in your mind, even now, under the vast array of stars. His eyes had shot to your bare chest, then to the shame on your face. You had watched his throat bob. Raymun set one foot forward, and you, one step back.

“I didn’t know a woman could be a knight,” He had said, so soft that you barely heard him.

Your own response came out as a harsh and defensive snap, “I am no woman! I am a man, just as much as you are, ser.”

Confusion made his eyebrows knit, but when he took in your hunched form, bristling like a wild animal, he must have decided that there was nothing feminine about you. Or at least that it was better not to argue with one who was known to bite. He had the marks to prove it. Behind narrowed eyes, you had watched him sigh and shrug. 

“Right, then.” There was a pause as he prodded at your armor with his toe. “Would be weird to be traveling with a woman. Always preferred to keep the company of men.”

That was it. No unwelcome questions, no prodding, Raymun Fossoway had accepted you as the man that you were despite the body that the gods had given you. One would think that you’d be treating him with more care than this. It was his unfortunate luck that you always thought that he looked rather cute, all ruffled up. 

Unfortunately, while your mind had drifted, it seemed that you may have tied the corset too tight in your excitement to tease. Raymun’s chest was having trouble expanding all the way. With an appreciative glance at the hair upon his chest — ones that he always seemed to miss — you turned him back around to loosen the corset. 

As soon as you did, Raymun took an almost exaggerated breath. “Seven Hells, man, were you trying to kill me?”

“The price of beauty is pain,” You sang, parroting your mother’s oft spoken words. 

He huffed in response. “You’re the one who brought it up.”

Another bubbling laugh slipped from your lips. During your travels, you and Raymun came across what looked to be an abandoned corset. It reminded you of your great escape, all of those years ago, ripping off your undergarments and throwing them over your shoulder as your horse galloped away. You remembered it a bit more romantic than it actually was, pretending that the wailing and crying played no part in it. 

You had offered to dress Raymun as a joke. Show him what it was like to live as a woman, if only for a minute. To your surprise, he had taken you seriously, his jaw set in that way when he was about to take on some much larger foe. He had said something about wanting to understand you more. That was enough to make your face flush and your heart pound so hard that you had grown lightheaded.

Planting your feet, you raised your chin to set him with your best glare. “You could’ve said no, man.” He opened his mouth, and judging by his expression it would have been impossibly sweet, so you cut him off with a much softer tone, “I do appreciate it. You wanted to understand me more. I know I’m hard to understand.”

His eyes were lit honey by the fire's glow. “I can’t say I’d much like being a woman if I had to wear this every day.” He lifted his arms, and you couldn’t help but notice how much the corset took in his waist. Maybe you should ask him to wear women's clothes more often. Raymun has always been quite pretty…