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paradox-the-unimpressed-nun · 3 months

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Small NSFW & SFW headcannons Human!Muzan x Reader

Warning: ⚠️ NSFW, Blow job, handjob, some fluff, Muzan is gender fluid (canon), sexual nudity, submissive!Muzan, dom!reader, 69

A/N: Hey it’s me, I kinda lost my will to write so yeah…but the new Kny leaks has given me a little motivation. So yeah here y’all go

SFW

𓇢𓆸 You were one of Muzans assigned caretakers, at first he hated you. He hates everyone but he definitely didn’t like you, he had no reason he just did.

𓇢𓆸 He made your life so hard, he refused to do anything you asked of him. It would be little things, like asking him to lift up his arms so you bathe him or if he could please hold still so you could brush his hair: stuff like that

𓇢𓆸Eventually he stopped resisting after he started noticing his hygiene getting poor. He still was rude and snappy though.

𓇢𓆸Soon he just said nothing at all, you didn’t Interest him and you didn’t annoy him so he guessed you’re alright. You were putting a cold cloth over his puffy eyes and he told you “you’re not my favorite caretaker but….you’re the one I tolerate the most” you told him thank you

𓇢𓆸You didn’t start bonding until you caught him using his food as lipstick. You left only for a little bit to wash up and to your surprise you see him using the red tea to dye is lips. You kinda just stood there in shock, Muzan noticed you and was very flustered. He yelled at you to leave and threw a plate at you.

𓇢𓆸 Very bluntly you asked him if he would like to ware makeup or at least tried. He talked over you the entire time saying that it was nothing. Only stopping when you asked if he wanted to borrow your lipstick, he went quiet and said yes.

𓇢𓆸 There started your bounding. Muzan always stood very still when you would apply the lipstick not wanting to accidentally mess it up. Afterwards he would start at himself in the mirror carefully examining himself as you would hold the mirror for him. After sometime he would ask if you thought he looked pretty if he looked like a lovely young woman.

𓇢𓆸It was a everyday thing were you would come in and put lipstick on him, then it became a every other day thing, then every other week and so on so forth. After sometime he would ask if you would apply powder to his face, do his hair and let him borrow your clothes.

𓇢𓆸On days he went all out he would ask you to refer to him as a woman and you did. Other days he went by male. You had to admit he did make a very lovely woman.

𓇢𓆸you gained some muscle while being his caretaker, he would ask if you could help him go outside. It usually ended up with you carrying him around the property. He is light but as a caretaker you didn’t really do lifting, you got used to it.

𓇢𓆸Rainy days is his favorite, the sun isn’t in his eyes and the garden looks very lovely. He would ask you to put him down put still hold onto him so he could jump into a puddle (he wanted to see what all the fuss was about)

𓇢𓆸 Muzan often ask you do certain things so he can understand or experience them. Example he would ask you to hug him because he wanted to know what it felt like. Or for you to hold his hand or dance with him (it didn’t last long, he can barely stand)

𓇢𓆸One day he ask for you to kiss him, he’s never been kissed before and he wanted to experience it before he dies. You did and he asked if you could do it again and again and again and again…

NSFW

*ੈ𑁍༘⋆Remeber how I mentioned he wanted you to help him experience certain things? Yeah it soon got dirty. You started with kissing with tongue, he wasn’t good at it but he got the hang of it.

*ੈ𑁍༘Muzan asked you if he could see your breast, you said yes. You would undo your top and sit in front of him giving him a good view of your chest. Then he asked if he could touch and of course you said yes.

*ੈ𑁍༘⋆ he’s never touched a boob before so this was very new to him, you had to guide his hand and show him how to properly grope a woman. You would tell him where he should touch and which parts are most pleasurable.

*ੈ𑁍༘⋆ On Muzans fem days he would ask if you would grope him as if he was a female with breast. You would and you discovered his chest is sensitive. Taking it a step further you would kiss down to his neck then to his chest. Telling him woman like it when men take special care to their chest. He took a mental note of that.

*ੈ𑁍༘⋆ Muzan asked you if you would jerk him off he needed to know what it would feel like if it was someone else’s hand. You would him against your chest and you slowly stroke your hand up and down his hand. He would whimper into you breast as tears fell down his face. He was in Heaven.

*ੈ𑁍༘⋆You were the one to suggest giving him a blowjob, he was a little confused on why you would want to do that but soon understood. This was definitely his favorite, the warm heat of your mouth and skill full tongue on his sensitive member drove him insane. He would cage you in between his legs and his arms wrapped around your head holding you in place.

*ੈ𑁍༘⋆ He liked to cum in your mouth as he wanted the feeing of your mouth to last as long as possible. Not that you mind he never lasted long and didn’t cum a bunch so you were okay.

*ੈ𑁍༘⋆I guessed I should have mentioned that Muzan can only last one round

*ੈ𑁍༘⋆Muzan asked if you could sit on his face as he wanted to return the favor. It didn’t last long as Muzan complained that he couldn’t breathe and you were too heavy, sure you were plump but so was everyone woman at the time. You were very disappointed and muzan is skillful with his tongue.

*ੈ𑁍༘⋆you offered to ride him as you both were ready for full on intimacy but that didn’t last long either. Again he complained that you were too heavy but to his credit he tried to hold out to the end.

*ੈ𑁍༘⋆You both came to a compromise though, you would jerk him off and he would would finger you. That was the best you were gonna get and you both made the best of it.

*ੈ𑁍༘⋆he actually came up with a better position for you both. He asked if he could lay ontop of you head on opposite sides. You were confused and he was honestly confused but you did it and worked very well. He was able to finally give you pleasure while at the same time you could do the same.

*ੈ𑁍༘⋆The vibrations of his moans against your clit made your legs wobble. Muzan understands that he doesn’t last long and he wants to cum with you, so he would suck on the nub and finger you.

A/N: idk what else to add so here y’all go 😭✌️ also thank you lovely’s for 900 followers I really appreciate all the support 🤧

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #ds #muzan #demon slayer x reader #muzan kibutsuji #human!muzan #Muzan x reader #Human!muzan x Reader #muzan kibutsuji x reader #Human!Muzan Kinutsuji x reader

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tsams-and-co-memes · 1 month

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TMGAFS Monty Canon Info

Updated - 5/9/24

Monty’s likes:

Winning

Screwing with people

Trains

Tea

Aggressive humor

Earth

Monty’s dislikes:

Kids

Their dad

Stitchwraith

Eclipse

Bloodmoon

El Chip

Miscellaneous:

Monty is gender-fluid

Their dad is British. It’s probably fair to assume that by extension, that makes Monty British, too

They have a sister who is a lawyer in Germany

Their mom is dead, and Monty was the one who handled most (if not all) of her funeral arrangements and expenses

They get extremely competitive over gaming

They have a temper and swear a lot

They have ADHD

Monty’s father and sister are human, but were genetically modified to look more like gators. Fazbear's merely bought their dad's likeness and used it to create Monty (<- partial retcon, it seems that Millie is an animatronic like Monty now. Everything about their dad is still pretty concrete)

Monty’s sister’s name is Millie

Their parents used to argue frequently

They once worked as a bartender

Monty’s sister (Millie) is very professional, even outside of her working hours (according to their dad)

Monty’s dad was a horrible parent

They con and rob NFT bros

They don’t pay taxes - they apparently owe $8 and some odd cents to the IRS

Monty built an off brand Vegeta animatronic and a husky animatronic

Monty had a kill switch at one point from Fazbear’s to shut them down if they did anything super bad, but the kill switch no longer works

Monty and Millie play Minecraft together and talk just about every other day, which would mean they have a decently close relationship

Monty plays D&D with Puppet sometimes

Monty hires a photographer to take pictures of them every few months, and the photographer charges $10,000 per picture. They then pay off the photographer with Monopoly money

They had a dragon ball phase

Monty is bisexual

Monty used to sell food to the cartel

Apparently Monty’s nemesis is hip Yoda

Monty knows how to drive and seems to be a better teacher than Sun. It's implied that Monty also knows how to fly planes

Monty knows what Millie's job is, but they don't know the specifics about it

Monty is Francine's godfather

Monty apparently smells like hand sanitizer, according to Earth

Monty’s a fan of alcohol and drinks every so often

Monty has killed an entire population of smurf people

Funtime Freddy had a habit of looking through Monty’s window at night and watching them sleep

Monty recently sold a Chili's to Moon (implied, since Moon recently bought it and Monty said that they recently sold it)

Monty swears more when drunk

Monty shows up late for work and then leaves early

Monty knows Spanish

Monty's tail gets stiff when they are angry (fact yoinked from the wiki)

In the past Monty had asked out Glamrock Chica but ended up getting rejected (fact yoinked from the wiki)

Their tail has been said to be magnetic meaning that it can take it off and move it around. Lunar liked to play with it (fact yoinked from the wiki)

Apparently, they are banned from Switzerland for some unknown reason (fact yoinked from the wiki)

They nuked Sweden for unknown reasons (fact yoinked from the wiki)

They are the ones who updated the daycare and have access to cameras (fact yoinked from the wiki)

They had a space station at one point, but it was destroyed by meteors (I think?)

Monty sold a space apartment/house to Sun once, but the place was also destroyed

#mgafs #tmgafs #tmgafs monty #mgafs monty #the monty and foxy show #monty and foxy show #monty gator and foxy show monty #monty gator #the monty gator and foxy show #the monty gator and foxy show monty #monty and foxy show monty #monty gator and foxy show #canon info

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dumpster-fire-sapphic-failgirl · 9 months

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It’s been said before, but I am delighted by how explicitly queer C3 / Bell’s Hells are

Fearne: Pan/bi af. Possibly Aro. Poly. Def monsterfucker

Ashton: Non-binary.

FCG: Non-binary with gender-fluid/genderqueer partner

Laudna: Sapphic. Likely bi/pan. Monsterfucker tendencies

Orym: Dedicated mlm. Still morning. Flirted with by a number of masc and gender-fluid characters

Chetney: Vocally down for anyone at any time. Poly presenting but sends up some possessive red flags

Imogen: Genuinely not sure if she’s pure sapphic or just Laudna-sexual. Demi af. Would possibly love laudna if laudna was a dude. Would probably love laudna if laudna was a worm. Has mostly expressed attraction to Laudna, people that look like Laudna, and characters once played by Marisha Ray (tho who can fault her for those abs)

and I love that the cast is just like NOPE THIS IS ALL CANON THERE IS NO AMBIGUITY IF YOU ARE HERE YOU ARE FAMILY AND THIS WHOLE FAMILY WILL BE RIDE OR DIE AT PRIDE

like, I loved the fuck out of C2, but so much of C3 is just catnip for me

#critical role #critical role spoilers #cr spoilers #laudna #imodna #imogen temult #bells hells #ashton greymoore #chetney pock o'pea #orym of the air ashari #cr c3 #fresh cut grass #fearne calloway #i love these weirdos #queer

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miseries-mistress · 1 year

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A L𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌 H𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 (𝖠 𝖲𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋'𝗌 𝖥𝖺𝖼𝖾)

Paring: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Synopsis: It wasn’t often that the OP went wrong, not after all the planning and hours spent pouring over logistics and floor plans, but the darkness often holds unforeseen powers that wait in the shadows to strike. As a result, you end up injured, and Ghost doesn’t take it lightly, his concern mutilated into a body of rage.

Warnings: gender not mentioned, injury, canon-typical violence, blood, gore, reader is injured, insecurity, self-doubt, slight angst

Words: 2633

Notes: my first ghost fic. just tryna get the feel of writing such a complicated man.

call of duty masterlist

If your eyes weren't so heavy, you might have come to appreciate how light flickers across Ghost's dark irises. They're a pretty dark blue, almost black in the shadows that skimper across them, with flakes of silver breathing life into the soulless window. His long ashen eyelashes are sprinkled with black from his eye makeup, fluttering gently as he blinks.

His stare, however, is anything but gentle. Instead, they pierce you, digging beneath your skin to unravel every secret bound in life's coil. Yet, despite his unrelenting eyes, emotions hide behind the cracked veneer of his facade and let you peek at the ever-boiling concern in his chest whenever your gaze is diverted to him.

The tension is palpable, like a tightrope walker balancing precariously between the safety of their starting point and the unknown depths below them. Every movement could shift them off balance, and the slightest misstep could mean disaster. You attempt to swallow the taste of apprehension as it lingers in the air, your stomach twisting into knots.

The cabin groans, its creaky walls offering you no reprieve from the constant whistling of the trees and the slashing of rain against the dingy pain. You didn't dare to move, worried that the slightest twitch was the very thing to crumble away the safety net the stillness had provided you from Ghost. You didn't dare look at him, but you could feel the dark waves riddled with anger roll off him, drowning you in its smoldering intensity.

After all, it's your fault that you're both here.

Get in, retrieve the package, and get out. That was the brief, in layman's terms, that Laswell had given you not even a day ago. An assignment you had done hundreds of times before. It was all going well, the task force working and adapting to every new command or plan alteration as you and Ghost cleared floor by floor. Synchronization was embedded into every call-out to ensure everything ran smoothly. A perfect plan, too simple to mess up. That's what ran through the floating, gloomy clouds of your thoughts until you failed to notice a soldier engulfed by the buildings shadows, his body fluid with the darkness, his hands grappled on a weapon of death's design. You were preparing to trek the next flight of stairs, your legs heavy with the constant climbing as Ghost radioed Price. A man, the one who proclaimed his life to the cover of despair, took aim at your unaware figure.

You didn't see the bullet fly or its infamous wizz as it tore like a wild animal through the tissue in your thigh, embedding itself in your muscle. Initially, the gut-wrenching agony you were promised never arrived nor impeded your ability to move as you shot him down and continued to move up the floors, hostile after hostile, falling victim to your violence. It wasn't until the area was cleared that the beginnings of hot ice began to flood your veins, spreading down your leg like a paralyzing sickness. You stumbled, bolts of lightning splintering up your entire leg. Only when a deafening droplet of blood met the reflective, white floor, splattering over the tile, did both you and Ghost finally address your injury.

You almost wished you didn't, from how the angry, gory flesh flayed outwards from the intrusion, grappling to your blood-stained pants. Your hand had fumbled to the spot, blood spewing from between your fingers in your attempt to stop the bleeding. Ghost's eyes grew large, his dark pupils engulfing the humanity in his vision.

The next part was a blurry, nauseating mess of the rest of the force descending into a frenzied, discoordinated chaos of too many bullets and bodies for a stealth OP as you dragged yourself out of the building and to the nearest safe house. Ghost was quick to comm Price on your condition, despite your admittedly weak protests that it was nothing to waste time on. He didn't take your assessment of your condition very well.

At first, the pain was nothing more than a pang that migrated down your leg, bearable for the time being. It's when you enter the forest, shock and adrenaline having run their course, that you all but collapse in white-hot agony, black spots obscuring your vision. Ghost is at your side before you can blink to drag you the rest of the way to the location. He doesn't give you a chance to resist his effort; his firm grip a reminder that you are in no position to argue.

A steady trail of blood, thick with the poison of age, left behind proof of your borrowed time, of death's notorious hand perched at your door, ready, waiting. She's been a constant shadow in the corners of every room, a fleeting wisp, a reminder of your constant flirting. And as you often toy with her, death knocks now and again, beckoning you on the verge of your demise to turn the door handle. But, no matter how sweetly she calls to bring you salvation from the torture the mortal world offers, the hand that touches the knob only does so with innocent curiosity, never with the firm expectation of your end. So when soft knocks echo in an incessant, dizzying pitch, beckoning you towards the void of black, you had half a mind to let her in.

The safe house Price instructed you to lay low in for the night had blended in with the rustling leaves of the trees that skimmed its roof, the forest around you offering Mother Nature's hospitality. It had been by luck alone that a storm brewed during your trek to the cabin and released its continents over the mud, washing away the tracks of your presence. However, neither you nor Ghost could have anticipated the temperature drop, your joints creaking with every body-rattling shiver that rolled over your back in frigid waves. You were chilled to the point where your skin was numb to the touch.

With your clothes drenched, your vest tried to push you into the slug clinging to your boots so much so that Ghost practically carried your limping form to the front door, your body clinging to the deliriousness of blood loss as he let you clasp the wall for support. Even though it's a safe house, Ghost still checks the cabin, weaving in and out of your narrow sightline while darkness creeps at the edges of your vision. The pain has intensified tenfold, your ragged breathing foreign to even you as a loose hand covers the bullet's entry point. It seems like hours before he beckons you in.

The place was a tiny thing, no more than a single bedroom and bath. The wood floorboards shrieked under each footfall, your blood matching the pitter-patter of the rain as it dripped on the floor. Only seconds later, the blood in your leg turned to lead and crumpled beneath your weight. He caught you at the last second, his sturdy hands gripping your flesh to lower you into a more comfortable position against the splintering wood.

Ghost moved to a cabinet, yanking out the first aid kit and returning to your side in a blur. Within seconds, he had it open and out of its bag, spilling its contents onto the ground and allowing him to search through the various bottles and tools. Before you knew it, he had gathered the items needed and was back at your side, cutting the fabric of your pants away. He functioned with an intensity and purpose that you'd never seen before. His motions were a whirlwind, the vigor of his focus never wavering as he worked to stave off the flow of your life from spilling further from your veins, his calloused hands operating with a gentleness that belied their strength. He had seen enough death to know the importance of time, his hands a haze of action as he fought to save you from the same fate.

You bit back every cry of agony as his fingers dug and weaved into the fiber of your being, your blood becoming his second skin. He wouldn't admit it, but his chest ached at the sight of you hunched over, your chest heaving with labored breaths as you fisted your shirt in an effort to ground yourself. Anyone could tell how much pain you were in even without the whimpers that slipped from your lips, and he moved faster, his hands working meticulously to ease the pain.

You were grateful for the thunderous downpour of rain that stomped at any chance of stillness because now, more than ever, you didn't want to fall victim to the eerie quiet that would have surely settled over you if not for the storm. Yet Ghost doesn't seem to mind it, his hands making quick work over your thigh with sharp pokes of the needle pulling your skin back together. His fingers flex over your convulsing leg, keeping you steady while he finishes up. You watch him, pupils flitting over his hands speckled in white raises, occasionally observing the movement of his stare over the injury.

With the urgency of your injury out of the way, there's the heat of the silent rage emanating from his build as he finishes up, wrapping gauze around it, your lungs burning with the thickness of the anticipation that permeates your senses. You refuse to move to address the silence you are suffocating in.

It's now, your eyes fighting sleep attempts, that you take notice of him, all of him. Even his eyes which carry a callous fury.

"That was fuckin stupid, Dove." You briefly recognize the use of your call sign, hungover from the cold bite in his words hurled at you.

"I know." Your voice lacks its usual conviction, crushed, ground into fucking ashes by the weight of your failure.

"You were supposed to clear the room," he continued, a low growl punching from the depths of his vocal cords. "How the fuck could you have missed him?"

If exhaustion, blended with regret and doubt, wasn't creeping in the back of your mind like a morning fog, maybe then you would have recognized the cruelty he carried in his speech was brought from a place of concern but expressed in a seeming ice bath of bitter wrath. His words are laced with contempt and scorn, every syllable dripping with acidic pessimism, shredding your heart with the thousands of knives he plunges into your chest. It's as if all he sees in you is your incompetence, your inexperience. Whether accurate or not, the unspoken words he appears to telepathically send to you- to recognize what he is truly trying to convey under his hardened exterior, fall flat.

Your downturned gaze is the only indication you heard him.

"Can't bloody believe you could fuck up so badly."

The rain screeches outside.

"'M sorry." The wobble in your pupils must indicate the weakness that permeates you and drowns you in a sea of doubt. The notch in his throat bobs for a moment as he sighs through a flared nose.

His razor-sharp stare roves over you as if searching for something. His throat is choked with words of vulnerability. His mind battles against his heart, the beating organ demanding to let you in, to wipe the chest-crushing look of guilt and cleanse your blood-stained consciousness of regret. His mind, however, the very thing that kept him alive, kept him from a deeper, more excruciating pain emotions offer him, urges him to pull away before he can fall to his knees in front of your altar of his design; to protect Simon and him from what will be his destined demise.

He settles on the middle ground and huffs, an indigent sound muffled by the balaclava. "You're better than this."

You can only swallow the wad of failure and spit in your throat in hopes of erasing the fragility that takes shape in mortar and stone to build up the damaged mask of strength and confidence you once clung to. You nod your head, your tongue too heavy for anything else.

"Don't do that shit again, ya' hear me?" It's a coarse murmur coming from his strained vocal cords, but softer, delicate even. Two fingers tap against the meat of your cheek, tilting your head while your eyes roam over the shell of his pupils. Only then does his hardened shell seem to melt, breaking down brick by brick to reveal a whisper of the man underneath, Simon Riley.

His finger grazes the outline of a scar next to your lips as his body shifts into an emotion akin to tenderness. A subtle scatter of shadows in the far reaches of his gaze holds an unspoken understanding, despite the walls of silence he has built around himself. It was as if he could see the turmoil raging within you, insecurities and remorse crashing into each other as violently as the storm outside.

"Could have died today," he huffs, low and ruff.

"I know," it's a soft murmur, acknowledging the fragility of your life, of the threat the job poses. He releases a low exhalation in response, his attention shifting to the dark corners of the dinghy cabin, lingering there for a second. Then, he returns his focus to you once more.

"Need to be more careful, yeah?" The soft pads of his hands meet your face in a gentle touch, a reminder of the blood that flows beneath the flesh, of the pulse in your skin. Your eyes flutter close, the feeling of bliss blossoming beneath his fingertips. It's all the acknowledgement he needs, knowing too well the loss of any real words. They fell a moment later.

Ghost moves silently next to you, his body your only hope of warmth to combat the frigidness of the night. He's warm, you realize, and a benevolent gooey feeling builds from the pit of your stomach. It's easy- too easy- to fall into the trap of wishful thinking, to hope for a friendship more intimate than the bond you already share with the lines so blurred. Your hope, which very well might be misguided, makes your heart beat impossibly faster at the possibility that he might share an inkling of the intimate attraction you feel.

Your limbs are weighed down by sleeps caress, the pain in your leg now subdued to a constant throb. It's easy to forget about the events that transpired today when sleep beckons you so dearly it feels impossible not to give in.

"Sleep." It's a simple, short command, yet it carries the promise of his protection. It's supposed to ease you and make you feel safe, knowing he will protect you from the dangers of the night, and it works. Your head falls to his shoulder, and Ghost, seemingly anticipating the contact, lets you. You don't have the mental fortitude to dwell on the implications of his actions. Only accept them for what they are. The rain, his warmth, and the promise of safety all ease you into the oblivion where dreams and nightmares dwell, and instead of them spitting you out like most nights you seek rest, they never reach you, not with Simon next to you.

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dottcre · 1 year

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SUCCUMB TO LOVE LUST !!

# track 01 of my fapbruary event || next track

contains : sub!dottore, amab!fatui!reader, no gendered words or petnames used for reader, hate sex, sorta enemies to lovers, rough sex, degradation, slapping/spanking, porn w very little plot, mention of canon-typical violence, choking, overstimulation, dottore has nipple piercings

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You spat, fisting the front of his shirt as you glared at the doctor. You were face to face with him, but far enough away so that his bird-like mask wouldn’t poke your eye out. “What do you have against me? So much so that you had to run your fucking mouth during that meeting?” You had been assigned to work with Dottore after his clones were destroyed, and you were supposed to secure a deal with a potential benefactor for the fatui before you were to resume your post back in Mondstadt.

You knew that working with him wouldn’t be easy, given how he always seemed to gaze at you with disdain, dismissing any ideas you had as if he thought you were beneath him. You tried not to bother with him, but to say that he was a pain in your ass was an understatement.

But now that you’d finally managed to talk it up with the benefactors and meet them in person, Dottore just had to screw it up. On purpose, no less. You’d dragged him to the nearest vacant room, seething the whole way.

He barked out a laugh, making you even more furious. “If you hadn’t dragged me out to continue your yapping, we might’ve still had a chance at securing the deal. We were dragged down because of your hastiness.” He retorted snarkily.

Rage bubbled in you and before you knew it, you’d slapped him across the face, hard. The loud sound bounced off the walls of the empty room before it became eerily silent. His mouth was slightly agape, probably with shock, as a mark the shape of your handprint started to form on his pale skin. His mask had shifted, blood red eyes now fully visible to you. They seemed to glimmer under the shadow of his mask.

He let out a shaky sigh, barely audible, as he turned to stare into your eyes again. You thought for a second that this would be the end of you, that he would make you just like the other mutilated corpses you’ve seen in his lab. Instead he gripped your hair harshly, pressing his lips against yours with the same amount of aggression. Your eyes widened as you gasped, and he ate it up greedily. You didn’t understand why, but it was only a split second before you reciprocated, pulling his god forsaken mask off and tossing it somewhere in the room. For some reason, it surprised you how warm his skin was under your fingertips.

When realisation of what the hell you were doing hit you, you pulled away, albeit slightly reluctantly, only for Dottore to pull you right back, pressing his body against yours as he kissed you again. You could feel his erection pressing against you, and it was enough to get you to stop hesitating.

Backing him up against the wall, you slid your knee between his legs in a fluid motion. You felt him grind down a little and moved your hands down to his hips, pressing his crotch onto your knee and making him moan. You tugged his coat off and moved carelessly, tearing his button-down shirt open and almost ripping it off his body. You pulled away for a second, admiring the way his lips looked, plump and glimmering with saliva, then shoved two of your fingers past them. He maintained eye contact with you as he attempted to deepthroat your fingers, sucking and playing them almost expertly. All this from a kiss and some grinding.

Pulling your knee back made Dottore whine as he stumbled a little, now attempting to undo his belt. His pants were getting too tight, and his cock too hard. The belt soon joined the discarded pile of clothes on the floor, all of which belonged to the doctor. He hurriedly freed his cock, letting it slap against his abdomen and smear precum against it. You decided that your fingers were wet enough and took them out of his mouth, not giving him enough time to do anything else before flipping him around, slamming his front against the probably dirty wall as you shoved your fingers into his hole.

He let out a whimper, and you swore you saw his knees buckle. His head lolled back as his hips pushed back onto your fingers, and you could feel his hole clenching around them every time you curled them into his prostate. “After all this time,” you sneered, leaning in to speak right behind his ear. “You just wanted, no, needed to get fucked in the ass?” Dottore mewled when you pressed against his sweet spot, back arching sweetly as precum spurted out of his cock. “Such a whore, aren’t you?” When he didn’t respond, you raised your hand, landing a harsh strike on the fat of his ass and making him cry out. He grit his teeth, the tips of his ears turning red.

“Yes.”

You grinned. It felt amazing, finally having Dottore bend to your whims.

You replaced your fingers with your cock after a few more strokes, burying yourself to the hilt in one go, ignoring Dottore’s cries of pain. You were sure the stretch would burn, but he seemed to enjoy that. Immediately, you began fucking him, practically manhandling him as you pounded him hard against the wall. Lewd noises spilled from his lips, his deep voice occasionally cracking when you hit a sensitive spot within him. You poured all of your bottled-up anger into your thrusts, his desperate and whorish noises spurring you on even more. Part of you had forgotten that you were still in the building with the people you were supposed to speak business with, and the fact that anyone could walk into the room you were in at any moment.

His words were beginning to fail him, the only coherent things coming out of his mouth being whimpers of your name, “yes”, and “please”. You yanked on his hair, just like he’d done to you earlier, and he hissed, the sting going straight to his cock. Your hands then snaked to his chest, cupping one of his pecs in your hand and then rubbing on his pierced nipple with your index finger.

A shaky gasp was ripped out of Dottore’s throat as he orgasmed, legs giving out shortly after. You caught him in time, holding him up on your dick with strength you gained from being a Harbinger. The position allowed you to be buried slightly deeper in him, making him see stars at the pleasure. “Archons, you’re so goddamned pathetic.” You were sure that if he could, he’d be swearing you out at the moment. You ignored the cum staining the walls, setting him down on the dirty floor before kneeling down yourself, lining your cock against his hole again.

“Hngh!” He let out a muffled noise when you put him in a mating press, filling him up deliciously. A string of curses fell from his lips when you tugged on his nipple piercings, admiring his dishevelled self squirm and moan at the shock of pleasure coursing through his body. Dottore felt like he was on fire, the sensation of you overstimulating him far more enjoyable than he thought it’d be. It hurt just the way he loved. He loved being used by you as if he were nothing more than a fucktoy, a hole, an object. A powerful man like him, reduced to a pulp beneath you.

You were getting close and so was Dottore, his heightened sensitivity making him clamp down on you. You were absolutely positive that there were hearts in his eyes as they rolled back. Without thinking, you wrapped your hands around his throat, squeezing hard and making him choke on a moan. His cock jumped at the action, but he weakly placed his hands above yours, rasping out a soft “harder”. That was the last push you needed as you came, thick ropes of cum filling him up. You did as he said as you rode out your orgasm, squeezing his neck hard enough that it might bruise the next day. He was into it, however, dick weakly spurting out cum, this time more watery than his last orgasm.

You pulled out after you both came down from your orgasms, you stuffing the cum leaking out back into his ass before buttoning your pants back up. Dottore’s clothes were practically ruined, shirt ripped open and pants stained with cum. As much as you would’ve loved seeing him walking around in those clothes, you couldn’t put the reputation of the Fatui at stake. You picked up his coat, helping him put it on before balling up the rest of his clothes, stuffing them under yours.

“Let’s go,” you cleared your throat, trying to act as normal and professional as you could, even after fucking him raw.

“You’re irritating,” he groaned, picking himself up.

“I still despise you too,” you snapped, making sure the coast was clear before exiting the room with him.

A week later, you got news that the deal had miraculously been settled, and that you were to return to Mondstadt in four days. You had a sensing who was behind it all, deciding to pay a visit to the lab before leaving. Dottore was working away, as always, mumbling to himself so crazily that he hadn’t even noticed you were in the same room as him.

“The deal was settled,” you started, and he stilled for a moment before turning around to look at you.

“Of course it is.” You could tell that he wanted to smirk. That bastard. “Why are you here?”

“Let’s just say that I’ve got a parting gift for you.”

#@ a thousand kisses. ares #@ dottcre’s fapbruary !#genshin impact #il dottore #sub dottore #dom reader #sub character #dottore smut #genshin smut #sub genshin

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kit-williams · 2 months

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To be held in your arms...

Male Lead: Roland Female Lead: Universe/AU: Warhammer 40k/Yandere Space Marines Canon Status: Yes

Note: This is for everyone who requested for a prompt about Roland holding his child in his arms for the first time. Baby is going to be referred in the gender neutral as I got even amount of prompts for him holding a little boy as well as a little girl. I'll explore more of it after fluffuary.

Also thank you everyone for being so kind over this fluffuary!

He missed it and he knew it but little could pull Roland away from the front lines. While he wanted to be there for her... if he didn't go the danger that could eventually come back to the ship would certain kill her. His job was to keep his Bäckerin safe... and their new kinder. The extra hours out of the tight corridors of the heretical vessel... the rites of blessing... the rites of removing his armor... the prayers after... it all was pushed to the front of his mind to stave off the disappointment.

It was well into her sleep cycle when he can finally go and see her. The midwife leading him to the room she was now in as she goes over the medical details that he knows his Bäckerin will recount in far less of a clinical manner. The door opens silently as he feels so large in such a small room... the midwife coming over to wake her up...

"Why wake her?" He lets it slip out of his mouth.

"Feeding time." The older woman says as his Bäckerin groans looking at her glumly and exhausted.

"Just five more..." She pleads.

"And then your babe will be five more closer to dying. Come now this is the most important part." The midwife says with some warmth in her voice.

He stands there quietly as it smells like cleaning fluids and blood... it smells like her blood... hidden under the sheets and covers as she just opens the gown and presses the wriggling flesh to her breast. "Please little one latch." His Bäckerin tiredly sobs.

Part of him twitches as he watches his beloved being moved roughly as well as his child. But he can smell something... underneath the sterile smell. "There just a bit of a stubborn one. Oh you have a visitor my dear."

"I do? Who?" She says so very out of it still and the midwife just points over to him as his Bäckerin looks over her shoulder at him with those large owlish eyes surprised that in her exhausted state she didn't hear him or see him.

"I'll be back in a bit to make sure everything is fine." The midwife states as she pets her head affectionately before leaving the room.

"Roland." His Bäckerin says smiling and utterly tired.

"Bäckerin... I'm..." He shuffles awkwardly as he's not exactly sorry he missed the birth to keep her safe but.

"No need dear... there is always next time." She says smiling. "Come here... they won't bite... not for several months." She says laughing softly.

They looked so tiny... so fragile... so new... he reached a hand out before pulling back not trusting himself but he runs a finger across their back as they nurse from Bäckerin.

"I haven't named them yet... I wanted to wait for you and well I've been a bit out of it from how long it took... and the pain meds... and just... everything. " Bäckerin says with her usual carefree way of talking with him perhaps even more relaxed in tone and nature. "Take your shirt off."

He looked to his Bäckerin confused, "Bäckerin are you sure you're not still on the effects of pain medication?" Roland said with a slight joke in his voice.

"Oh most certainly I am but just do it. Its for the baby's sake. And sit down maybe lean back a bit."

"I don't see-"

"Just trust me."

Roland normally was hardly concerned about others seeing him in lack of attire... he relished his Bäckerin seeing him like this but he was heavily reminded by the midwife before she went into labor and the Chaplain that Bäckerin could not have sex for at minimum a month perhaps even two. But he sat there shirtless just watching her wobble to her feet as she rolled the medica bassinet over, "Hold me."

"Always." Roland replies just putting a hand on her side as she picked up the bundle from the bassinet.

Their eyes look so big on their small head... he remembers all the things that the midwife told him were normal and not to be mistaken as being an aberration. He watches her eyes look at his chest for an area that didn't have a port and then she laid their child on his chest.

His hearts stilled for a moment as he could feel their tiny heartbeating against their chest... they lacked a smell... besides being covered in blood and other fluids... he held his breath as this... this was their child. His eyes focused on their small little nails... he could hear their small inhales... he feels his cheeks wet as there they were... finally here.

"Hello there little one..." He says softly... in a fearful whisper as he breathes life to the next few words, "Ich bin dein Vater... oder Papa." His hearts hurt at the sudden swelling of feeling for this tiny little human that was not even a day old yet.

Roland turned his head and rested it against her side as her fingers ran through his hair with a warm smile looking down at the crying man, "Thank you.... thank you Bäckerin for giving me this."

"Well thank you for making it all happen. It takes two of us to make this." He feels her kiss his head as she uses the time he takes having the baby rest on his chest to sleep as the fear Roland had for the tiny mortal creature they made evaporated in an instant... what was the weird wriggling fleshy thing was their baby... far too soon to say what features are from whom... but he didn't care as he loved them. Just as he loved his Bäckerin and he hoped to love more while he had his time with her.

Fluffuary TagList: @bispecsual @the-californicationist @egrets-not-regrets @libraryshadow @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

#warhammer 40k #fluffuary #fluffuary2024 #OC: Roland Lichtner #yandere #yandere space marine #yandere black templar #black templar #space marine #Bäckerin #Roland x Bäckerin #roland x reader

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papastarion · 3 months

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Thinking about (Dad) Astarion related to pregnancy/birth itself as an experience and how he reacts and how it affects him, because that’s what my research is focused on right now, so that’s where my brain is. (So, obvious warnings for pregnancy/birth.)

I’ve been reading some of the older material connected with D&D/lore, to get a sense of how Astarion would instinctively react to fatherhood—regarding his elven nature, not just his trauma, because I think about that enough. Even in my own canon, where that baby is very much discussed and agreed upon (but happens way faster than either Astarion or my Durge anticipated, with both of them doubtful on whether or not they could have biological children or not), there’s a lot to unpack, and it’s not always easy for him to work through it.

I’m a sucker for Astarion relearning or reconnecting with his elven attributes that have been pushed down by Cazador for so many years, so much so that he surprises himself quite often.

For instance: Elves, both male and female because gender roles are whatever to them, are very involved in pregnancy, per some old sources like Dragon Magazine. It’s almost a natural response for them. And having the baby is a group activity if born in an elven community, because it’s something they take as a chance to come together. Tav/Durge (regardless of race, but bear in mind that my Durge is a half-elf, so a lot of my writing and research has that bias to it) and he are their own little community, and his elf brain is clear on what he needs to be doing before he even really has time to process.

Astarion himself is shocked by how involved he is from the moment he finds out that they’re having a baby.

Of course he was always going to invested—it’s his baby with the first person he ever truly cared for. And of course he’s terrified, who wouldn’t be? Even standard pregnancies aren’t simple, he knows this one is undoubtedly going to be even more complicated thanks to his vampirism, which is a delicious vein (no pun intended) for angst and character study. But, like so many people have pointed out, especially with a Durge partner, he can be and is very supportive, especially during tense moments.

Is he going to be dramatic about everything? Absolutely. He’s still Astarion, after all.

He also starts making concerted efforts to learn more about vampirism in general, because there’s still so much about his condition he doesn’t know, and if he doesn’t know about himself, he’s not going to very helpful when their child is older. Sure, dhampirism will have its own nuances, but he has to start somewhere. And there’s a lot more text out there about vampires than their rare instances of producing children.

He learns early on in the pregnancy that dhampirs can crave things other than blood to feed their hunger (spinal fluid, even dreams being among them), though they can also eat as any non-vampire can. However, some sources seem to insist that blood during fetal development is good for them, regardless of what diet they follow later on. Most sources are confident that a dhampir can feed from a vampire, but if a vampire were to bite/feed on a dhampir, the vampire would be left unsatiated, and the dhampir would likely not survive, the act sending their genetics into shock (*note: this isn’t strictly lore-compliant, because I’ve read too many conflicting things, so I’ve developed my own canon.)

Astarion absolutely starts bleeding himself for them to have blood on hand, just to be safe. After all, Tav/Durge has given him so much of their blood over the course of their relationship, if his can be good for something, he’ll gladly share. Besides, if we’re talking Durge, they’d probably be fairly thrilled to try his blood. It’s not the first time they’ve consumed flesh/blood, after all.

And with their medical proficiency, a Durge partner has a field day finally getting to stick his veins. He’s just happy they’re happy. If it helps the baby, and if it entertains Durge enough to distract them from all their aches and pains, then all the better.

Astarion does his own fair share of needlework, too. He starts teaching himself how to make blankets, the idea being that he wants something warm for the baby to associate him with, given how could his touch is. He isn’t sure how reactive they’ll be to body temperature, but he doesn’t want his son or daughter not liking him because he’s too cold. Besides, his scent will be all in the material, and he knows that’ll be good for anyone with any kind of vampiric nature to make associations.

Of course, he sees to altering Tav/Durge’s clothes over the months, too. If they’re self-conscious about everything happening, he’ll even do it exclusively. No need to pay a tailor or seamstress when he can do what they can better, by candlelight if needed, and he only charges in kisses, not gold.

He also tries to learn different ways to help physically. Someone teaches him the bump-lift trick for back pain at about seven months, and if Tav/Durge wasn’t hopelessly in love before, they are now. He takes bribes for foot rubs, but he’s always available for back rubs. He’ll make tea when they don’t feel like getting up to do it. He’ll lay in bed all day if that’s what they want to do. Snuggles? They’re already wrapped in a big old blanket together. They don’t want to be touched that day? He’s got books to read and a quip about being too beautiful to be ignored, but he won’t mean it.

He tries so hard not to panic when labor starts, but he’s so convinced all his good fortune is finally going to catch up with him if things have gone smoothly. And, in his subconscious, there’s been at least some illusion regarding the reality of it all, even as he’s watched his partner change physically and felt the baby move over the months.

But there’s no more hypotheticals.

Still, he would be insistent on being involved during the delivery itself (with bells on, no doubt, if you’ve seen my previous post.) He’s more scared than he’s ever been before, but he knows Tav/Durge is scared, too, and they’re the one in pain and doing all the work. The least he can do is be with them, and he can definitely do that. If he can offer them comfort when they’re actively trying to kill him thanks to Bhaal, then he can certainly put his own nerves aside when they’re having a baby.

He’ll make jokes about blood and the mess to cover up the fact that if he wasn’t already pale as a ghost, he’d be absolutely blanched, but he won’t let go of their hand, he’ll do whatever he can to make it at least marginally better, if it’s possible. He’ll crack jokes (“You put up with me everyday, this should be nothing.” “You’re going to be fine, because if you’re not, I’m going to kill you myself.” “It’s probably too late to back out of this now, but, I mean, we could try.”) All the back rubs. Hand holding, no matter how intense that gets as things progress. He’ll even share random relevant facts that stick out in his mind from months of research. (“Did you know dhampirs do have pulses despite popular belief, they’re just so faint that they can be hard to feel? Which is good, because if a vampire were to try to bite them, they’d have a hard time finding a vein and initiating paralysis and—” “Astarion, let’s have the baby before we start thinking about their camouflage tactics.”)

Hells, if the preferred attendant (I’ve seen Halsin, Shadowheart, Jaheira, an unnamed midwife, a combo of them—I’m partial to Miss Former Head Physican herself, Dalyria), tells him he’s catching the baby when it comes, then he’s doing it. (And he’s going to be crying more than the baby afterwards.)

It’s A Lot, for sure. And there’s a lot more nuance to it all than I can fit in one post, and this one is already getting too long, but I couldn’t help myself.

Bonus: Tav/Durge cuddled up and getting in those new baby snuggles and skin to skin after everything is cleaned up and everyone’s more or less at ease, and Tav/Durge looks at him and goes: “Well done catching him/her, by the way. It was very twee.”

No, he’s never living that one down.

#elven births are also fairly easy so sorry Thea that you’re only half-elf AND having a dhampir it’s just going to suck babe #Astarion #Dadstarion #Durgestarion #bg3 #Papastarion #Tavstarion

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kaladinkholins · 5 months

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hear me out. delusional post-canon taimizu idea. after mizu gets her revenge and helps akemi secure her position in the palace mizu retires and uses her mercenary money and whatever payment akemi gives her as thanks to buy a secluded land and house, maybe in the mountains or something. and ringo is there too because of course!

and every day she forges weapons and tends to her little bit of land feeding chickens and raising horses and training and meditating. every so often they get visitors who come to seek training from mizu and/or a sword made by her hand. and i like to imagine that mizu's presentation is still fluid so she'll dress feminine and let her hair down at night or on days when no visitors are around, and dress masculine and presenting as a man when accepting visitors. all in all it's peaceful and it's familiar and she is content with her level of freedom and this restricted contact with the outside world

and in this scenario (since it's taking place in my own imagined post-canon), mizu has already duelled taigen and there was the whole gender reveal too, and there may or may not have been drama but ultimately taigen was still her ally and helped in her revenge quest. but because taigen is taigen and all about following societal rules, he never quite knew how to navigate his feelings for mizu (who goes against ALL societal expectations) and so he never quite acted on his feelings and mizu with her deep self-hatred just figured that he didn't like her that way. so when she got the chance after finishing her quest and everything, she just left him a farewell note before cutting off all ties.

but of course taigen is a whipped mf who can NOT just let mizu go so of course he spends like. years. searching for mizu and pestering akemi for information before he FINALLY finds the abode of the legendary blue-eyed swordsman

so when he arrives mizu's life is now up-turned. reluctantly she greets him as her visitor because he's "travelled very far and he's very hungry" so as courtesy she has to feed him and besides it's late and it's snowy and ringo insists that taigen stay so reluctantly she lets him stay over.

so taigen stays. and mizu tells herself it's JUST for ringo's sake. cuz ringo is obviously happy to have an old friend over (and mizu feels a little guilty here because she feels that by staying by her side he's forced to also adhere to her reclusive lifestyle despite enjoying friendships and fun). and she watches ringo and taigen having fun sparring from afar before taigen notices her watching and throws her a sword and challenges her to a spar.

and then as mizu starts fighting taigen again something lights up in her again and like man she has forgotten what this felt like. because sure she practices every day and she always spars with her students and with ringo, but this is taigen. he challenges her and goads her on and with them fighting is a dance, a play, an art.

and of course it ends with mizu handing taigen's ass to him and they're both flushed and breathless and they can't tear their eyes away from each other and there's all this TENSION and the only thing that forces them to both remember their surroundings is ringo cheering mizu on from the sidelines, thus interrupting their prolonged erotic eye contact

and before she realises it taigen is staying another night, and another. and her traitorous heart likes him around, enjoys his company, their banter, their playful duels.

and i like to imagine taigen tricking her to spar only for it to devolve into tickle fight because taigen is a childish brat looking for any way to one-up her, but also he wants her to loosen up a little and this definitely takes off guard and then they're both giggling and rolling around like kids until they get interrupted again by like some other visitor who's come to request a sword from her

SO ANYWAY fast forward and eventually taigen moves in and now when visitors come over they get training from mizu AND taigen and everyone basically knows theyre fucking but since theyre two men nobody bats an eye the end send post

EDIT: I have written a fic out of this premise which you can read here :)

#blue eye samurai #mizu x taigen #taigen x mizu #taimizu #i do wanna make this a fic but im too busy honk shoo honk shoo snrrrk mi mi mi mi #i hope this is coherent. apologies if not. brain empty only taimizu #shut up haydar #scribblings.txt #fandom.rtf #edit: coming back to tag this as ->#a new ember taimizu fic

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