#helbroth

Maybe it was her own issues with her mother that made her heart break for the young prince, the whole keep saw how the Queen spoke to her oldest son, how she treated him and it reminded her all too much of her own mother after her father passed. Perhaps that was why she approached him the afternoon, she had been near the Queen's chambers and caught the end of their fight, Queen Alicent's voice carried when she willed it to and she was listening before she could stop herself.

Like most she knew that the Prince wasn't always courtly with the maids, but from her understanding that was most men at the court, she was only spared because she was a part of the Queen's household and thus highly off limits without the Queen's express blessing for a betrothal. That day would come soon enough, but she doubted it would be a match that resulted in love-- girls who looked like her didn't get handsome lords, they got elderly ones on their third wife.

another day concludes as church duty ends.

as usual, rosaria did nothing above the bare minimum — not that anyone expected any different, anyways. she makes it to the tavern far earlier than most, making her presence known to the calvary captain with a clink and clank of her claws.

"waiting for someone?" she teases before sliding into the seat next to him and ordering a drink. once it's in her grip, she takes a long chug and breathes out a content sigh. "any funny story to share?"

05. what are the top kinks that your muse enjoys?

NSFW QUESTIONS.

@helbroth sent [ TEND ]:    sender and receiver tend to one another’s wounds in the aftermath of a fight. (from a fussing and huffing jaskier to wounded geralt !)

Being injured is nothing new to Geralt, scars litter his body from the various injuries that he's suffered in his long life. If it were severe, he would take a Swallow potion and move on but it doesn't feel too severe.

Sure, he is bleeding quite a bit but he's a Witcher, he has enhanced healing factors. Jaskier is worrying for absolutely no reason. The slash in his side from a sword via a person having come looking for Ciri is nothing to him.

Still, Jaskier insists on patching him up and fussing over him and Geralt sighs with no choice but to concede and allow the man to patch him up. Lifting up his shirt to reveal the bleeding gash in his side to Jaskier so he may patch it up.

@helbroth asked : ( short && angsty sentence starters ) ❛ promise me you’ll still be here when i wake up. ❜ — from levi for erwin.

He glances to him as they lay side my side in bed. Levi turned on his side, that look in the younger males eyes only makes the blonde smile fondly as he turns on his side to look at him as well. Meeting his gaze he looks into those onyx eye, admiring him. Hearing him worry was so new to him. But after everything from Floch dragging him back to the roof hardly able to breathe as he was almost pronounced dead. Levi made the hard decision to choose him in the end… he hasn’t left his side since. He liked being closer despite what happened. He’s thankful for another chance to live but he will feel guilty over the passing of another.

His hand gently caresses over Levi cheek as he hums softly. It made him smile… seeing him so fragile, to worry over him. A soft kiss is pressed to the crown of his head before he wraps his arms around him. Pulling the smaller male close and resting him on his chest.

“Yeah… I promise I’ll be here” he says pressing closer to him while closing his eyes.

@helbroth : it's useless trying to appease me.

SMUT Headcanons Meme [not accepting at present]

CW: suggestive content, obviously :)

❤️‍🔥what’s their most erogenous zone?

Aside from the obvious, back of the neck is a hot tip, and his buttocks. A finger (or tongue) trailing down his spine at the right moment is also quite effective.

🫂how do they feel about friends with benefits?

FUNNY YOU SHOULD ASK THAT. I had to reflect on the concept for him in general a bit and came to the conclusion that he would do it but wouldn't be entirely honest about it. Hear me out. He would have repeated flings with people, but something about that is inherently lacking respect for the other person because it's taking them out of the friendship box but not elevating them into that of a partner. This is not meant to imply that getting physical inherently devalues a relationship , but it does change a dynamic and in Ayato's eyes, not necessarily in a more profound direction. Friends with benefits is, in essence, chasing pleasure and nothing more with the help of someone you know a little better than a complete stranger.

That said, in Ayato's case an arrangement like this would actually be easier than a string of one night stands with strangers. It would be both a safety and reputation risk to find new flings all the time, so having someone steady to go to, who isn't his partner, would be much more befitting the commissioner. Something like a political ally of equal status, a guard, an informant. Someone who's unlikely to become an issue should it ever end badly.

@helbroth sent: [ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐭𝐡 ] : sender drapes a coat / cape / etc. around receiver's shoulders. OR [ 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 ] : receiver is hugging a coat / cape / etc. that belongs to the sender. from thoma to ayato 🙂‍↕️👉👈

Or? Por qué no los dos (kinda)? :)

Another drop falls into the sea of black beneath, silently, spreading in tiny veins across the surface. Words uttered echo in the silence, thinly veiled threats and false promises like encoded instructions waiting to be deciphered and followed. Two, three, ten steps ahead is the bare minimum to stay on top of this game; one pawn placed on the wrong square the potential catalyst of their downfall.

A gentle weight lowers onto Ayato's shoulders and he startles out of the sleepy trance he's fallen into, the brush he's holding dipping down into the puddle of ink it's created on the letter he started writing, creating an unsightly blotch. That's right. He's back home, sitting on the porch to handle his correspondence in the last hours of the spring sun.. but it must have set on him a while ago, for he is engulfed in darkness, the only light provided by two lamps on either side of his writing desk.

He feels stiff and cold - the latter a sensation he's ironically made more aware of by the coat now resting over his shoulders. Looking down he recognizes the garment as one that does not belong to him, but to his housekeeper. There's no mistaking it; Ayato vividly remembers the day he went to the tailor with his sister to pick the fabric - a fine red silk with a print of dragonflies - and how long it took them to settle on it. Curling his fingers around the hems and pulling it tighter around himself he turns his face towards it and breathes in deeply.