#god that concept makes my knees weak

[frantic-fiction]

Hi!! I love your astarion stories so much, you are such a talented writer!

I have a bit of a weird request for an 18+.

I've heard theories that if a vampire like astarion drinks enough human blood that there's a slight chance he's able to get someone pregnant 👀 ...

I'm wondering if you could do a smut like something along the lines of astarion having a huge breeding kink, so he and Tav are experimenting with him drinking maybe more than he should of her but it's worth it if they have a chance at having a kid or something? Basically just asking for a smut about astarion having a breeding kink🥺

thank you so much for all you do!! Once again like I said you are so talented, and if you do decide to do something with this I'd love to be in the tag list.

Okay first off, this comment is everything thank you. You are just too nice I can't 🥰....and well I had so much fun writing this so I hope you like it lovely!

I Want 18+

Warnings: SMUT MDNI, Breeding kink, fingering, dry humping, slight daddy kink if you squint, Astarion being lovesick, slight dom/sub maybe? idk

Word Count: 2.5k of pure filth

Mastarlist

It started with a chapter in an obnoxiously repetitive book about vampires and their spawns. You had gifted it to him with a poorly concealed giggle on your lips. 

Most of the content was either incorrect or exaggerated, and Astarion couldn't help but chuckle at the foolishness of it all. He was ready to throw the damned thing into the fireplace when his eye drifted over a passage.

Dhampirs: Creatures born from the union of a human and a vampire. The conception is incredibly rare, but the likelihood increases if the vampire indulges in a significant amount of the human's blood prior to sex. 

Now, it can't seem to leave Astarion's mind. The idea of you being pregnant, being able to watch your stomach swell with his child, witnessing your breast grow and your hips fill out. How sensitive would you get as your pregnancy progresses? Would you crave him more than you do now? These thoughts alone have him throbbing in his trousers.

However, what sealed Astarion's fate was seeing you with Gale's newborn baby girl. The way love filled your heart the moment your eyes landed on that little girl sleeping soundly in the wizard's arms. How delicate you cradle the young one's head as soon as she's in your grasp, softly cooing down at the little bundle, stroking the smooth pink skin of her cheek. 

And when you turned to him with that sweet smile that never fails to make Astarion weak in the knees, asking if he wishes to hold baby Dekarios. How could he say no? 

Astarion never cared for fatherhood, but the moment that baby girl was in his arms, opening her eyes with that dopey, toothless smile, he was done for. And when she grabbed his pointer finger with her tiny hand, gripping it lightly with all her strength. Astarion knew he wouldn't stop trying until you were carrying his child.

* 

You were finishing up the dishes, hips swaying to a tune only you could hear. The summer heat had you in shorts that fell just below the swell of your rear and a sheer top that revealed your lack of a bra. It's been a week since the visit to the Dekarios, and Astarion can no longer hold back the desires that burn deep in his body. 

Astarion approaches silently, a predator stalking his prey. You rub your nose on your shoulder, trying to scratch an itch while your hands are covered in suds, groaning in annoyance when that fails to help. 

Gods, you're adorable. 

You're so carefree and relaxed, looking so soft, warm, and delicate. All open to his wandering hands and his greedy mouth. Astarion can already feel himself stiffen just from the knowledge of what he has in store for you.

A startled scream leaves your lips as Astarion's cold arms snake around your waist and pulls you against his hard chest. It does make him feel bad for a moment, but the delicate sigh that follows as he kisses up your jaw is enough to make up for it. 

"Hello, my love." Astarion hums against your skin. His nimble fingers trail over your stomach, teasing the valley of your breast, taking careful movements to ghost his thumb over your sensitive nipple. A gasp leaves your sinful mouth, and you arch your back.

"H-hey," you breathe, and when Astarion grinds his tented pants against your backsides, you let out the most delicious whimper. "What are you up to, Star?" 

His only response is a breathy laugh as he turns you around and pulls you into a kiss. Signing into his mouth, you hook your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss. It's messy, with soapy hands and mingling tongues, but it leaves you breathless. Astarion teases your bottom lip with his teeth before pulling away to bite your jaw playfully, relishing the surprised yelp you give him. 

Astarion quickly lifts you onto the countertop, where he can nestle between your plush thighs. Your wandering hands move up to tangle into his curls and give a tug. Astarion obliges your silent request and resumes the kiss, licking deeply into your mouth. He's lost in the subtle floral scent of your shampoo and the taste of your lips.

You pull him away with your chest, heaving in deep pants. "Astarion, what are you--" He smirks when you trail off into a breathy moan as his teeth nibble at your ear.

"Darling, do you remember that book you gifted me?" Astarion's hands trail down your side, and you part your legs more for his reaching fingers.

"Y-yes, the one you scoffed at and threw in the corner?" Still having the sense of mind to tease him, he chuckles when your quip spills into a moan when the pad of his thumb presses against your covered clit. 

Astarion is pleased with the dampening fabric of your shorts. Your responsiveness never ceases to leave him aching with need. He begins to move his finger lightly back and forth against the fabric. It's not enough to give you what you want, but it has you whining for more.

"Well, I must admit the poor excuse for educational text did have some interesting information." Astarion moves his thumb a bit rougher against your clit.

"What -fuck- what interesting information are we talking about?" 

Astarion doesn't respond immediately, slipping his hand under the band of your shorts. He swipes his deft fingers through your dripping folds and begins to tease your entrance while he continues to rub tight circles against your sensitive bud. You gasp and drop your head to his shoulder, rolling your hips into his palm. Astarion cups the back of your neck with his spare hand and tilts your head back. You meet his heated gaze with lidded eyes and mouth agape. 

"Dhampirs." Astarion purrs, plunging two of his fingers into your dripping core, curling up just enough to have you gasping his name. 

Your fingernails dig into his forearm, clinging for anything to ground you. Astarion waits for you to react, loving the way you roll your hips in time with his fingers, desperate for all that he gives you. It seems you're lost in your pleasure or not quite catching on to what he's implying because you're looking at him, clearly not following his words. 

"Half-vampires, my sweet."

You clench around his fingers, letting out a soft whimper that would have gone unheard without his heightened hearing. He smirks, picking up the pace. Astarion grabs your chin, guiding you to look at him.

"Does that excite you, darling?" 

"Gods, shit," You breathe. "Please, don't stop."

"You would look so beautiful carrying our child. Hells, imagine." 

Astarion trails his fangs over the skin of your neck, sucking on the pinprick from the previous night. His hips are now rutting against your leg and the edge of the counter, only enough to ease the ache in his groin. Astarion can feel you getting close just by the little jolts of your hips and the tight squeeze of your cunt. 

"Do you want my child, love?" Astarion hums against your skin. "Do you want me to fill you to the brim with my seed, fuck you until you're a dripping mess? Until there's a little one growing in your womb."

"Please! Fuck, I'm going t-" 

"Come for me, my sweet girl."

You cry out his name, and just as your orgasm rakes through your body, Astarion sinks his teeth into your neck and begins his feed. You're lost to the pleasure, your walls spasming around his fingers. He helps you ride out your release, never unlatching from your neck.

 Astarion takes large, greedy gulps of your blood, far more than his usual fill. The book said a significant amount of blood was needed, leaving much to be interpreted. Astarion only stopped when you nudged him on the shoulder. 

When he pulls away, you wipe the small trickle of blood that dribbles down Astarion's chin. Delicately he grabs your hand and sucks your thumb into his mouth, licking it clean.

"Astarion, let's go to our room. I think we have some things to explore," you say with a tempting smile.

Astarion is carrying you out of the kitchen and down the hall without another word, his lips locked onto yours. 

You're giggling against Astarion's mouth as he kicks the door open and tosses you carelessly on the bed. You bounce on the mattress and watch the vampire hastily tear at the buttons of his shirt. 

Tossing the fabric away, Astarion looks at you and unbuckles his trousers. The sight alone nearly has him cumming in his pants. There you are, lounging with that devious gaze, biting your lip and groping your breast like the tease you are.

"Fuck, sweetheart," Astarion breathe, practically ripping the rest of his clothes from his body. "Take your clothes off for me."

You do as you're told and quickly strip until you're bare and spread out like a feast just for him. Astarion now kneels naked at the foot of the bed and grabs your ankle, giving a gentle kiss to your calf. 

"I've thought about nothing else but getting you pregnant since I read that foolish book," Astarion says, kissing his way up your leg. "Watching your stomach grow round with our child," He kisses and licks the soft flesh of your abdomen. 

"Astarion," you sigh.

"To get the pleasure of taking care of you. Rubbing your swollen feet, and massage your aching back, even fetching every one of the disgusting cravings your pregnancy gives you."

"Says the blood drinker." You scoff, glaring down at Astarion between the valley of your breasts. 

Astarion ignores you and bites at your chest playfully. "You would make such a lovely mother, darling. Please, love, let me make you a mother." 

Astarion's words are laced with a tone of desperation. He might have been embarrassed if not for the need that consumes him: a need to see you nod at him with your beautiful smile, a need to hear you say you want this just as much as him, that you want to start a family with him, however unlikely it might be.

And then you nod your head and frantically pull him up into a kiss, and Astarion feels like he's alive once again.

"Gods, yes." You mumble, slinging your legs around him and pulling him down against your body.

Astarion licks into your mouth, kissing you like a man starved. You're just as desperate, grinding up against him, seeking friction, and letting out little whines against his mouth. Wandering hands trails down his back and between your two bodies, and Astarion lets out a pathetic moan when you grip his leaking cock, giving him a few teasing pumps. 

"You're going to be such a good daddy, Astarion." You whisper sinfully in his ears as he fucks your hand. "Going to take good care of me and our little one."

"Hells, you wicked thing." Astarion grunts. 

You run your thumb over the head, giving him a playful squeeze. Hot, open-mouth kisses are littered across his chest and up his neck until your mouth is right against his ear. Your warm breath floats over his skin, sending a shiver down his spine.

"Astarion love, I need you to put a baby into me." 

Astarion nods, seemingly breathless, as you line him up at your weeping cunt. He presses in, and the room fills with debauched moans. You grab his neck, slamming your mouths back together, tongues back into their messy dance. Saliva coats each other's lips, but neither can get enough. Astarion grunts deep in his chest when you scratch your nails over his scalp.

"Oh my love, I'm going to fuck you until you're leaking with my cum. Filled to the brim until you can't take anymore." Astarion grabs your legs and pulls them over his shoulders, and you cry at the change in angle. "Then tomorrow I'll do the same, and the day after. Until we know for sure our baby is growing in your womb."

"Yes, Star. Wanna baby." You slur against him, pressing warm kisses wherever your lips can touch. 

Astarion was fucking you as if this was his life goal. As if nothing else matters but the delicious feeling of his cock thrusting against your walls, pressing deep against your cervix. Seeing all of you with your cheek flushed and your chest rising and falling with rapid pants of breath, knees against your chest. Your eyes lidded, gazed over in pleasure, and your hair a mess against the white of the pillow. It was the sexiest display Astarion has ever had the pleasure to see.

"You're so beautiful. Gods, I love you." 

"Love you," You try to say but choke on a moan. Your hands wander down his back and across his chest, seeming not to know where you want to touch.

Astarion is close but determined to feel you come around him before finding his release. Thankfully, he won't need to wait long because you're on the edge. So close. He can tell just by the way your gummy walls spasm around his cock, and the way your hips are jutting up against each of his thrusts.

"I know you're close, darling. Can you come for me? I want to feel you squeeze me while I fill you."

And with those sinful words, it was almost like you were waiting for his permission because as soon as they left his mouth, you were falling over the precipice. You clench down on him, a pleasured sob breaking free of your throat. The feeling of you alone was enough to tip him over, and he quickly found his release spilling his seed deep into your abused cunt.

The room stills, the scent of sweat and sex clings to the air. Astarion lets your legs fall to the side and maneuvers both of your bodies so that he's lying on his back and you're resting on top of him, head on his chest. Astarion rubs your back and kisses your hairline as you catch your breath. You trace lines across his skin, lost in thought at what had happened.

"So should I expect a little vampling running around soon?" you ask, looking up at him.

Astarion huffs a small laugh through his nose and kisses your forehead. "Human and Vampire reproduction is unlikely but not impossible," Astarion explains without the rush of arousal clogging both of your minds. "But I think we've done many remarkable things together, wouldn't you agree, my love."

You smile brightly and kiss his chest. "Yes, we do have a knack for doing the impossible. And I'm very, very eager to keep trying." 

Taglist

@heartfully10 @ayselluna @marina-and-the-memes @anixson @canonicalchaoticneutral @toadsbitch @meulinkitten-blog @ambr4armr @lotusandcrystals @venussakura @synapticjive @skittleabyss @asterordinary @lariatbunny @whispering-depths @butchboi-chihuahua-slumlord @darkest-part-of-the-forest @queenofcarrotflowers-s @sessils @d20bunny@cherifrog@ophelia-ophelian @bgthree @darlingxdragon @mothynyx @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @babyqnn @mmendez0124 @kokoyu-art @lilah-asteria

Want to be added to the taglist? DM me please!

#bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 #astarion imagine #astarion ancunin #fanfic #reader insert #frantic fiction #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 tav #bg3 x reader #bg3 x you

[auras-moonstone]

hi i cant tell u how excited i am everytime i get your notifications 😭😭 also i know if i send a rec you'll do an amazing job so i'm requesting one rn i hope u like it!

barista y/n and ethan landry who are coworkers after class, they're always teasing eachother and there is some (light) flirting

y/n hasn't realized yet how attractive he is, until he passes behind her grabbing her waist to get on the other side of the counter to get an order.

it's not rlly a plot but GOD i'm imagining ethan in his tight little polo shirt and the apron around his waist, his front curls w a little bit of sweat onto them while he makes coffee..... i'm so weak 😭

thank you so much😭🥺 i was so excited to write this! love the concept so so much. hope you like it 🫶🏻

glitch — ethan landry

word count: 1,747

pairing: barista!ethan landry x barista!fem!reader

summary: ethan has a crush on his co-worker, and she doesn’t reciprocate that crush until one touch changes everything.

warnings: a bit suggestive, but no smut

TRUTH WAS, ETHAN HAD BEEN SIMPING HARD FOR Y/N SINCE HIS VERY FIRST DAY OF WORK. How could he not when she had that graceful smile on her face that made every customer weak in the knees? Ethan clearly wasn’t not the exception, he could work-ship the ground she walked on. But the attraction was very much one-sided.

It wasn’t that he was invisible to her, but she just didn’t see him the way he wanted to. They did flirt a bit, but while he did it with the intention of making her notice him in a romantic way, she only did it for fun, there weren’t any second intentions involved. Besides, Ethan had to watch every day the way boys would hit on her and asked for her number and how she wrote it in the palm of their hands. It broke his heart knowing she would never see him in another light.

“How many times did you have to write your number in someone’s hands today?” Ethan asked faking a laugh as they closed the cafe.

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully “Today was a chill one, so not much.”

“Have you ever gone on a date with any those guys?” he asked curiously. She never talked about going on dates, or never mentioned she was seeing or texting someone.

Y/N looked at him with surprise eyes. “Eth, please tell me you don’t believe I actually hand in my number that easily.”

“Wait what?”

The girl laughed, and punch him in the arm lightly. “You do think that! God, Ethan. I give them fake numbers. I don’t want random people texting me.”

“Can’t you just say no?” Ethan asked confused.

“I don’t want them to feel bad.” she shrugged.

“So you give them fake numbers and make some strangers let them know the pretty barista gave them a fake number?” Ethan asked incredulously.

Y/N grimaced “Okay, that sounds bad too, but I least I don’t have to see their rejected faces and they don’t get turned down in public.”

Ethan laughed, and the pressure on his chest evaporated. Was it crazy that he felt relieved by this new information? A bit. “So that means that I shouldn’t bother to ask for your number?” he acted disappointed.

Y/N chuckled. “Econ geniuses are my weakness, so I would never give you a fake number.”

Ethan blushed and shoved her “Shut up! I’m not an Econ genius.”

“Anyone who passes that dreadful class is a genius in my eyes” she said, shoving him back. “Let me give you my number, but don’t ghost me, okay?”

“I would never.”

“Good, cause you’d break my heart.” she joked, writing down her real number on his palm. Her hand felt so good on his, Ethan wished she would never let go. “There you go. Text me, we should hang out outside of work.”

“Really?” Ethan’s eyes shone and his heart started doing cartwheels.

“Of course, Eth. I actually like being around you” she smiled softly. Ethan would definitely mark that day as the best day of his life. “I can set you up with someone and we can go on a double date!” his face fell. So much for hoping. “Or, we can do something just the two of us. Now that I think about it, we don’t actually know much about the other. What a fake friendship we have.”

Friendship. That’s all he was ever going to have with her, and he needed to come in terms with it. Y/N was amazing, and he should be lucky to have her around, even if it was just as a friend.

Although, on a wednesday morning, the turning point happened. The university’s cafe was completely packed, and so they had to work ten times faster than usual. Stress filled the air of the small shop.

“Ugh, stupid machine! You had to choose this day to work like shit?” Y/N groaned, hitting the coffee machine. The coffee poured down slowly, and knowing it was going to take ages for the cup to be filled, she took one step backwards in frustration.

Ethan, who was trying to get to the other side to deliver a drink, bumped into her. Being in a rush, he almost made her lose her balance when they collided, but he grabbed her by the waist just in time to steady her. “Sorry! Are you okay?”

Y/N wanted to say yes, but she was not okay. Not because he had hurt her, but because the feeling of his big hand on her waist left her speechless. It produced a glitch on her body, a malfunction that caused her brain to not be able to utter a single syllable. She only managed to nod before setting her eyes on the coffee machine as if it were the most interesting thing on the planet.

For the rest of the stressful shift, Y/N found herself sneaking glances towards the tall boy every time she could. She couldn’t help it, her eyes diverted on their own and every time Ethan would pass by her, her whole body tensed and yearned for one more touch.

Ethan’s electric touch had been like a bug that altered her whole system. How in the world did she not notice him like that before? The way his cute polo shirt hung to him like a second skin—giving him the look of a hot nerd that Y/N was now a complete sucker for—, the way he adorably frowned in concentration as he prepared a drink, or the way his beautiful curls sticked to his forehead because of the sweat—honestly, she had no idea sweaty men could be that attractive. That’s what Ethan Landry was. He was so fucking attractive, and now that Y/N saw it, it took her lots of self-control not to push him against the counter and kiss the hell out of him.

“Tough shift, right?” Ethan said as they cleaned the now empty cafe.

Her gaze dropped down to his arms, his biceps flexed as he cleaned the counter. He was so hot. “Yeah.”

“What’s wrong with you today? You seemed off the entire day.” he asked confused.

“Nothing, I’m just really tired.” she said casually, forcing herself to look away from him.

“God, yes. My body is about to collapse.” he groaned as he stretched his arms. The action cause his shirt to ride up, showing a bit of his lower stomach.

Y/N’s grip on the cloth tightened as she felt the heat growing between her legs. I get it, I’m an idiot for not noticing how hot he is! Stop torturing me, she said to her hormones. “Same.”

Ethan laughed. “Seriously, what’s going on? Do you feel sick? You’re flushed, your face is really red. Do you have a fever? I can finish cleaning, you can go home, or wait for me and I’ll drive you.”

And he was so fucking sweet too. She wanted to rip her heart out and give it to him. “No, I’m okay.”

But Ethan didn’t believe her, so he walked towards her and cup her cheeks, making her breath hitch. “You’re not. What are you not telling me?”

Y/N sighed, he was not going to let go. “Trust me, you don’t wanna know.”

“I wanted to know, now I need to know. Tell me.”

“I’m horny, okay?” she blurted out in an exasperated tone. “And it’s your fault!”

“W-what?” he took one step back, eyes widened.

“Yes, you put your hand on me today and I can’t just stop thinking about your long fingers on the curve of my waist. And you won’t believe half the things I’ve seen inside my head since. You have been driving me crazy the whole day”

Ethan’s mouth was dry. At first, he thought she was messing with him, but her shiny glossy doe eyes were telling him a different story. She wanted him. “Try me. No, actually, show me.”

And it was then when the cafe’s temperature raised, when lust filled the air and their bodies turned warm with need. Five seconds later, Y/N fastened herself to him with a stitch—she grabbed Ethan by the collar of his polo, and tugged him down to met her lips in one ferocious kiss. She walked him backwards until his lower back hit the edge of the counter. He moaned both in pain and excitement.

The girl sneaked her hand down his shirt and felt his toned abs, groaning in delight against his lips. “So fucking hot. I need you.”

Ethan grabbed her by the forearms to change positions and then turned Y/N around so that her back was against his front and her stomach pressed against the marble counter.

He bit her earlobe and then started dragging his wet lips down the skin of her neck, sucking on her sweet spot. His veiny rough hands slipped inside her shirt, exploring the skin of her stomach and then they settled on her waist, giving them a squeeze. “You liked this, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” she replied breathlessly, resting the back of her head on his chest.

“Isn’t this better though?” he asked huskily on her ear as he trailed his fingers upwards, cupping her breasts. “No bra? Lucky me.”

“Eth…” she moaned, clenching her thighs, desperate have him inside her.

Noticing that, Ethan used his right leg to spread her thighs apart. “Bend over the counter, love.” he commanded, raising her skirt up to her hips and unbuckling his belt. “Be a good girl and moan my name.”

When they left the cafe, they were both still flushed by the dirty and hot encounter they had. Ethan still couldn’t comprehend how the day ended—he had walked inside the cafe that morning, the idea of fucking Y/N didn’t even cross his mind because he knew he had no chance. And now he was leaving with his hand intertwined in hers.

Y/N, on the other hand, didn’t even want to think about her life before that shift, when she wasn’t at Ethan’s mercy, when she didn’t know he kissed slowly and with passion, that he was a very dirty talker, that his touch felt like heaven, that he loved being praised as much as he loved praising, that he made the hottest sounds and that even though he had been attractively rough during sex, he was a fucking sweetheart after it, making sure she wasn’t in pain and had a good time. Now, Y/N was all about Ethan Landry.

#ethan landry #ethan landry fluff #ethanlandry #ethan landry fic #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry angst #ethan landry x you #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry drabble #jack champion #jack champion x reader #jack champion x y/n #jack champion oneshot #jackchampion #jack champion imagine #jack champion fluff #jack champion fanfic

[chilschuck]

Chilchuck but we are his pretty wife, and we didn't abandon him this time.

Not only that, but we are also very caring and nice, and it's practically a surprise how we are with someone like Chilchuck.

I can picture him standing with a serious face and all gloomy, and then we are next to him beaming rays of sunshine (bonus if we are also blonde and a hafling)

They are literally the "sunshine x grumpy" trope

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ ohhhhhhh my god. so……..i was so happy with this cute request that i kind of ran with it LOL. this is such a good concept and i can picture this so well in my brain. i wrote a domestic lil drabble that i hope is okay, as my thoughts just went insane over this. WAHHHH i hope you enjoy and that this is okay!! thank you so much for your idea, anon!! <3

— SUNSHINE: chilchuck x wife!reader.

꒰ rating: ꒱ sfw and soooo fluffy. reader is also a half-foot!

꒰ wc: ꒱ 675

✦ please i need more domestic bliss with this man. he deserves to feel so loved and happy. i tried to keep this light and sweet and playful bc i think he’d be grumpy but also. give this man the love he needs and he’ll thrive please chilchuck just one chance please pleas—

“Chil?” Your voice was so soft and sweet, it’s honey-like tone melting him to his core. You had decided to surprise him with breakfast this morning, something you loved to do when you had him here with you.

If the smell didn’t rouse him, your presence certainly did. It was an understatement to say that you were his weak spot, a point within him that he tried not to dwell on too much. Especially when the sun hit you in that halo of light at just the right angle, seeping through the windows and making his eyes flutter. Waking up to you was an experience he felt he couldn’t get enough of, drunk off of your velvet words as you brushed the bangs out of his face.

“Mm?” Was his only response, leaning subconsciously into your touch with a gruff sigh. You only laughed, that twinkle in your voice causing his heart to stutter within his chest. Why must he be married to the human form of sunshine? Surely his constant grumpiness would deter you, but much to his amusement, it only made you grin.

“Do you want breakfast, love?” Gods, when you called him that, he could feel his ears burn hot. Finally fully opening his eyes, his gaze found yours, softening instantly. How he managed to find someone like you, he would never understand. Regardless, he sat up, pawing at his eyes to dust the sleep from them. “I’d rather have you.” You heard him grumble, cheeks rosy. Another one of those addicting laughs left you. He didn’t think it was amusing. “Fine, I’ll get up…”

You practically bounced in place, rocking on your feet in excitement. It wasn’t hard to see that you adored your husband, his sleep shirt wrinkled and hair messy from sleep making you bite your lip in glee. Chilchuck gave you a skeptical look, scratching the back of his head before stretching. The action reminded you that he did have a little height on you, your own size as a half-foot causing you to feel small in any context. His shirt rode up to expose the tummy there, causing you to leave your gaze locked at that spot for a moment.

“Are you really this excited for me to get out of bed?” He mused, grumpiness slowly ebbing away at the warmth completely radiating off of you. You felt yourself nod, wrapping your arms around his waist and peering up at him with that expression that always made him weak in the knees. “I’m always excited for my husband to wake up and join the living again.”

“Is that so?” Chilchuck grinned, his voice rumbling in his chest and tingling against your skin. “You want a grump like me awake at this hour?” You couldn’t help but feed into him, continuing to nod your head cheerfully. “Really? Then it would be a shame if…”

Before he finished his sentence, you felt yourself pulled down to the bed as he fell backwards, a yelp leaving you in shock. He held you in his embrace, nuzzling into your neck and yawning. “...I took you down with me. Oh well.” Obnoxiously fake snores followed his teasing reply, causing you to laugh in bewilderment.

“Chilchuck, are you serious? I had finally gotten you up! Everything that I made is gonna get cold!” Although you spoke with mock frustration, the longer you found yourself in his embrace, the more you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Huffing, you relented. “Not my fault that your breakfast is going to be freezing by the time you finally get moving.” Your own grumbling, voice muffled against his shirt, caused him to chuckle. Your head buzzed.

His playfulness this morning made you feel a little giddy, studying his face as the light filtered in. A few gray hairs were illuminated in the sea of auburn, something you found pleasure in. You had to remind yourself that you both weren’t as young as you used to be, but if you were able to continue spending this life with him, well… Maybe it wasn’t so bad.

#⟡ lilia writes! 🌿 #୨ chilchuck my beloved ୧ #i hope this is okay!!! #dividers by cafekitsune #i actually kinda like this one…. #maybe bc it’s so self-indulgent like everything i seem to write #welp. LOL #chilchuck tims x reader #chilchuck x reader #delicious in dungeon x reader #dunmeshi x reader #dungeon meshi x reader #x reader

[chxrryhansen]

౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ Cherry’s Concepts 4/50

Character; Lloyd Hansen

Kink; Man handling

Dialogue; “Be a good girl and open wide.”

Requested by; Lara! <3

As always, this blog contains 18+ content only, your media consumption is your own responsibility, all dark content will be labled as such. Please read at your own risk.

₊♡₊˚ 🍒・₊✧

You already know Lloyd hasn’t had a good day at work when you hear the front door to your shared penthouse slam shut. Your heart rate instantly spiking upon his entrance.

You hated when he was angry, he always seemed to take out his stress and aggression on you, which you didn’t mind at first of course, but after a while being punished for something you didn’t do began to take a toll.

Lloyd would protect you from everything the world had to offer, except himself. As you sat on the couch you heard him slam his keys down against the bench and storm towards the living room.

He rounded the corner, his expensive white pants drew your attention in an instant making his thick muscular thighs look incredible. His black tight polo showed off his bulging muscles and broad shoulders, his hair was slicked back as always , his 90s porn stache making your knees feel weak. You stood up slowly and spoke softly

“Hey baby, how was your da-“

Your words cut off as Lloyd stormed towards you, holding your throat in a tight grip while he bent you over the couch. Before you could even respond he pulled your soaked panties down to your thighs, his fingers roughly running back and forth in between your pussy lips before taking his cock out of his boxers, rubbing his thick swollen tip against your entrance.

His hand travelled from your throat to hold your mouth shut, silencing you as he roughly pushed his fat cock inside of you, bottoming out in one thrust. You screamed out behind his hand, your pussy clenching around his thick shaft. He groaned in your ear mumbling a low “Shut your mouth.”

His hips pounding against your ass, sure to leave bruises. His heavy balls slapping your clit while his hands moved to grip your waist, holding you still while he fucks his cock deeper into your tight hole. “F-fuck Lloyd.. Oh god i can’t take it, i can’t take it, Your so big.” you moaned writhing on his dick.

“Fuckin’ whore actin’ like you don’t love this fat cock tearing your pussy apart.” he roared.

He pulled out spinning you around and forcing you onto your knees “m’ gonna cum in your mouth, want you t’ swallow my fuckin’ kids you fuckin’ whore.” he growled as he jerked his dick off over your face.

“Be a good girl and open wide.” he snarled while he grabbed the back of your head, tilting your face upwards ensuring you stared into his cold blues.

Your lips parted as he shoved his cock down your throat, you gagged and sputtered around his length as he groaned, his cum spurting in thick ropes down your throat.

The taste of his salty pleasure running down into your belly as you swallowed his load yet he kept his member warm in your throat, not wanting to pull out just yet. His cock grew flaccid in your mouth as he wiped your tears with his thumb.

You knew Lloyd wasn’t the right man for you, too aggressive, volatile, savage… but god did you wish he was. You knew you would need to find a way to leave him one day, this life wasn’t made for you. You’d be lying if you said it’d be easy. You knew it would only be a matter of time.

That man would cross hell, heaven and earth before he gave up on you.

#chxrrys concepts #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfic #chris evans smut #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen smut #the grey man #the grey man smut

[delopsia]

Ok so I’m assuming Rhett is 30 ish because Lewis is 30 (almost 31 in like a month) but like Rhett with reader who is younger than him by a good number of years (reader being 23 at youngest probably) what’s the relationship like? Was he super reluctant at first because of the gap? How do we meet him? How does the family feel? What if he’s her first “real” boyfriend? How would he react to reader asking him to take their v card?

When I tell you that this has been stuck in my head since you sent me this, oh my GOD. I've been meaning to write this concept with Rhett and Bobby for over a year and keep forgetting to 🤤 I got a little carried away. Hope y'all don't mind 🤍

Canonically, Rhett is twenty-four, but I think we as a collective have chosen to ignore that 💃 here's my proof post on that, if you're curious 💕 TLDR: Rhett was born June 12th, 1996, and OR S1 takes place in November 2020

For the sake of this post, I'll just leave it and say he's noticeably older than the reader ✨ I don't want to set a specific age for him and accidentally exclude someone :(

I like to view an older version of Rhett as someone who's still into the rodeos; he's gotten up there in the bull riding ranks, and though he's a year or two away from aging out of it, he's still up there kicking ass when you first encounter him. It's your first time coming to this rodeo, and you're not sure what to think when you see him leaned up against the fence in that quiet, rugged glory so many cowboys seem to carry. Older than the rest of the riders, so jaded by buckle bunnies that he hardly notices the ones trying to get his attention.

The first time you walk past him, he lifts the corner of his lip and nods his head toward you as if to say hello. Some simple little thing that gets you smiling, hoping to high heaven that your friends don't notice the sudden weakness in your knees. Three Sundays in a row, you go to the rodeo with your friends, and three Sundays in a row, you walk past him on your way to the food trucks. Three Sundays in a row, he smiles and nods his head at you.

You think he's just being nice.

Rhett just thinks you're hot.

But he's too tired of entertaining relationships with folks who only want him for what lurks beneath his championship buckle and to tell all their friends they fucked a real cowboy. It was fun when he was younger, but after a while, like most things, it gets old.

So when he sees you at the bar after a rodeo one night, he doesn't think too much about it. Sneaks a few glances at you out the corner of his eye, sure, quietly wondering how pretty his name would sound coming out of your mouth, but that's it.

Until some hotshot decides that he's going to give you hell while your friends are in the bathroom. And Rhett's within the perfect earshot to get rightfully pissed off. He's not particularly one to get into someone else's business, but he's also not too fond of this whole "badger someone 'till they give what you want" technique the younger boys have been employing recently.

"'s this guy botherin' ya?" He asks, in that gravelly voice, his elbow propping against the bar, speaking to you but his eyes never once leaving the steer wrestler giving you trouble. He's got a history with this kid; this isn't their first confrontation.

Of course, you don't know that when the younger man goes nose-to-nose with Rhett. But oh, if it doesn't make you the slightest bit dizzy when Rhett's jaw hardens at your meek 'yes.'

He only means to scare the guy off and go back to watching his buddy eat shit at the pool table, but your friends are taking forever to come back, and he's found himself offering to sit with you until they do. You're asking his name, and he's ashamed to admit that his heart jumps at the sound of his name on your tongue.

You don't seem to care all that much about the age difference, and Rhett's got no reason to be concerned; your age doesn't end in 'teen,' and you can legally drink, but he's found himself a touch hesitant to flirt with you. Isn't all that fond of breaking his heart over another sweetheart who stumbled into Wabang.

But you just keep running into each other. You're in line with him at a food truck; he sees you at a rodeo bonfire and chats you up until your friends are begging to head home. He's given you his number, and he's catching himself looking for you at the end of his rides.

And then he's busting his left shoulder after a ride, and somehow, he's found himself outside of the ambulance, being backed up against a wall as you kiss him hard on the mouth. It's the first kiss he's had in years, and your hands on his big chest are the sweetest thing he's ever felt. It's everything, and it takes every ounce of his will to draw your hand off of his belt buckle.

"Y' don't wanna do that," his whispered warning drips off his tongue like honey, and oh do you want a taste, "'m 'fraid if I let ya have me, I might follow ya 'round for the rest of my life."

He really doesn't know what to do when you smile and ask, "But what if that's what I want?"

How he survived that, he doesn't know. But a kiss-filled conversation ends in him agreeing to take you on a real, proper date. He takes you to Odessa's diner for lunch, pulls your chair out for you, and never lets you touch a door, and he gets along with you so well. It helps a lot that he's been on a funky little life path that has given him many of the same experiences as you. There's an age gap, sure, but his stage of life isn't too different from your own. Especially because he was a bit of a late bloomer with this whole 'adult' thing. The perks of being emotionally stunted by Royal...

Rhett doesn't differ that much if he's your first boyfriend; he's sickeningly sweet, regardless. No amount of experience or inexperience will stop him from going all out on you; if there's one thing his momma did, it was raise him right. You might as well be royalty. That being said, he's happy to take the lead (or give it up) depending on your experience level.

The relationship isn't all that different from how it would be if he was your age. There are some generational references that take time to understand, and Rhett's age shows the most when you try teaching him to use Instagram, but that's a given. He's a little bit smug when you're with him in public, especially at rodeos. He knows he's struck gold, and he intends to show you off as much as you're comfortable with. Protective, too. Those bull riders know better than to linger and try their luck with you. More times than you can count, you've overheard the whispered warning, "That one's Rhett's."

Rolls his eyes when you (affectionately) call him old man...

To be fair, Rhett does try to wait until a few weeks into your relationship to start getting intimate; he wants to take things slow with you, but then you're cupping him through his jeans, and he's breathless as you massage him through the fabric. And when you sit in his lap, wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, and grind your ass down into him? He's a goner.

If you're a virgin, then he's extra careful with you. Takes some more time to draw your clothes off, slow as he kisses down your belly until he can run his tongue up your sweet little pussy. But he's obscene about it, regardless. Groaning around your clit, letting you yank on his hair all you need. Frustrates you to no end because you're trying so hard to get him to fuck you, and all he wants to do is eat you out. Four times. Four times, you rile him up, and the most progress you make is getting his jeans off. He doesn't mean to upset you, he's just a whore for giving oral.

Until that one time at the bar when you hauled him into a bathroom stall, dropped to your knees, and wrapped your mouth around him before he could get under your skin.

That got him. You couldn't take all of him, gagging every time his plush tip hit the back of your throat, but his knees were shaking. Moans muffled by the palm of his hand. Trying his best to pull you off when he came and damn near hit the floor when you instead chose to swallow him down.

Again, if you're a virgin, then there isn't a huge difference in how he treats you when he takes your virginity. Not out of impatience or anything of the sort, but it's your first time together. He's going to treat you like a virgin regardless. Overusing the lube as he introduces you to a thick, calloused finger, watching your reaction for the slightest hint of pain. "'s this hurt? No? You sure?"

Annoyingly pushes the tip of his cock against you, then lets it slide through your folds, obsessed with the sight of it. But just as you're going to complain, he finally nudges inside, and it silences you completely.

If there is one thing about Rhett Abbott, it's that he's huge in more ways than one. Splitting you open in all the right ways, big hands stroking up and down your skin, whispering the filthiest things into your ears. "Think 'm almost too big for your lil pussy, angel." "Shhh, we'll make it fit. Jus' relax 'round me." "'s that feel good, sweetheart? Y' like bein' stretched 'round my cock like that?"

He ruins you either way. You never pegged yourself to be this insatiable, riding him in his truck, fucking him outside the bar, in bathroom stalls, cheap hotel rooms, bending over the hood of his truck while he had a flat tire. It's not your fault; Rhett's just that damn good, and he's somehow able to match you entirely. Rolls his eyes a little, sure, but he's just doing that to annoy you. "This old man fucks you that good, hm? Cute little pussy ain't satisfied 'till I pump it nice 'n full of my cum?"

Sometimes, he tells you he's too tired for sex and then turns around and pounces on you because he heard you whimper once and had a second burst of energy.

Which...is how your relationship gets found out. He's left a mark on your collar, and at some point, you bend down to pick up a fork you dropped, and it gets noticed. So you either got in a fight with a vacuum cleaner and lost, or you have a little someone.

The worst part is telling everyone how old he is. Rhett's got this funny charm where he looks younger than he actually is, and it nearly makes someone choke at the dinner table. And Rhett's not the best with people, but he's quick to make a good impression. He's like a fine wine; he's gotten better as he's aged.

You'll likely never meet Rhett's family, and if you do, it's a handful of times for no longer than two hours. After Rhett moved out, there's been tension every time he sees his folks. He was supposed to stay and spend his life helping the ranch, to honor his family loyalties, not run off and find love in someone else. Cecelia's sweet, doesn't say anything about the age gap, so long as you're both happy. Royal...you don't know what he said, but you had to grab Rhett by the belt to reign him in.

All that being said, Rhett's a sweetheart to you, regardless of your age gap. There are some differences that wouldn't be there if he was your age, but he's keen to work on those things together. Rhett doesn't fall in love often, but when he does, he falls hard, and he's going to give you the world. Even if you do call him old man every now and then.

Like I said...I got carried away

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #delgato's asks

[bigfatbimbo]

An idea for housewife!Vox, what if due to his trauma from the fall of the Vees he has a nightmare and involuntarily wets the bed. He’s mortified, immediately getting up to clean the sheets before the reader finds out.

Unfortunately for Vox you catch him in the midst of trying to sneak his laundry into the washing machine. You make a snarky comment about him “starting on his house duties early” before noticing the stained sheets.

Vox can’t look at you, completely humiliated. You’d been so good to him, taken him into your home, and he did something so childish and pathetic he half expects to be kicked out.

He starts babbling, repeatedly saying that it “was an accident” and that “he didn’t mean to ruin your sheets”. He’s almost in tears by the time you finally approach him, a gentle hand sliding under his screen.

“Shh, baby, it’s alright.” You sooth, taking on that sweet dominant tone that makes his knees weak. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”

He’s starting to calm down, just as you lean in close to whisper into his speakers.

“Mommy still has to punish you though.”

(And that’s all I’ve got. Sorry if this isn’t your thing, your housewife!Vox concept is great and I’m a sucker for that pathetic tv man ^^)

WHAT I LITERALLY WOULD NOT BE ABLE TO BE MEAN TO HIM AFTER THAT AND IM THE BIGGEST DICK I KNOW 😭🙏

Stop that would just make me sad because he would be so absolutely humiliated and ashamed of himself like… really? this is how far you’ve fallen?? A nightmare and he’s acting like a fucking child, his already crushed ego is now literally dust.

And he’s probably beating himself up for even being in tears about it because yeah, he’s mortified, but is he that much of a baby?

Oh my god I don’t even think i would fuck him, he would literally just need to be held and reassured he’s not weak or pathetic, and that you can forget about in the morning. Telling him you’re not going anywhere and he’s safe, as well.

But I respect your horniness so 🤷‍♀️ tormenting in bed afterwards, calling him pathetic and childish, teasing him for acting like a baby, calling him a gross bedwetter.

He’d literally start crying, which would only drive your point home that he’s acting like a baby. Him squirming underneath you and begging for his mommy to be nicer to him.

But you don’t!

Anyways, personally I wouldn’t actually go that route surprising but, I respect the grind brother.

#vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #inbox open

[inaconstantstateofchange]

I come to you on my hands and knees (relevant to the topic right lol) begging for any and all info on Bane, Banites and how it all ties in with Gortash. I love you in advance. <3

Bane and His Cult

Alright, so after twelve and a half hours of research I still don’t fully feel like I have enough, but at a certain point I just need to get this out there, and if there is anything you – or anyone else – would like to see explored in more detail, please feel free to ask! 

Note: I love getting asks like this! There is such a vast quantity of Realmslore that having some sort of specific focus for my deep-dives is a huge help, and knowing the topic is of interest to others is a huge motivator. I also greatly enjoy getting to put my training as a historian to work, as there is so much to interpret and archive alike. 

As ever, these writeups will align with current 5e lore, and draw from 3.5e for additional supporting information. On rarer occasions – and always noted – I will reference 1e and 2e, but with the caveats that there is much more in those editions that is tonally dissonant with the modern conception of the Forgotten Realms, and thus generally less applicable.

We’ll begin with one of the most recent conclusive descriptions of Bane, from the 5e Sword Coast Adventurer’s Guide, an overview of the current world-state of, well, the Sword Coast: 

Bane has a simple ethos: the strong have not just the right but the duty to to rule over the weak. A tyrant who is able to seize power must do so, for not only does the tyrant benefit, but so do those under the tyrant’s rule. When a ruler succumbs to decadence, corruption, or decrepitude, a stronger and more suitable ruler will rise.  Bane is vilified in many legends. Throughout history, those who favor him have committed dark deeds in his name, but most people don’t worship Bane out of malice. Bane represents ambition and control, and those who have the former but lack the latter pray to him to give them strength. It is said that Bane favors those who exhibit drive and courage, and that he aids those who seek to become conquerors, carving kingdoms from the wilderness, and bringing order to the lawless.¹

This gives us the briefest summation of what draws people to the Cult of Bane: the desire for power and control, often deriving from a sense that they lack exactly those two things. Bane is the quintessential deity of lawful evil, which – if you’ve read any of my previous posts on the sociology of the Nine Hells – bears a striking similarity to Baator itself, the realm of lawful evil, and the place where Enver Gortash spent at least a portion of his formative years. 

The majority of the following excerpts derive from 3e, which went into far more detail on the specificities of the Faerûnian gods, including their dogmas, holy days, et cetera. One important point to note, however: any discussions of Bane’s scope of power are no longer accurate, as the time period in reference is about one hundred and twenty years before Baldur’s Gate 3 is set, at a time when Bane had just returned to life – and godhood – as nothing less than a greater god. By comparison, during Baldur’s Gate 3, he is a quasi-deity, having abandoned most of his previous godly power in exchange for the ability to directly meddle with Faerûn – forbidden to the gods by the overgod Ao – and gambling that he would be able to regain his lost power and prestige in so doing.²

The dogma of Bane – that is, the core tenets and philosophies that his followers seek to emulate – is as follows: 

Serve no one but Bane. Fear him always and make others fear him even more than you do. The Black Hand always strikes down those that stand against it in the end. Defy Bane and die — or in death find loyalty to him, for he shall compel it. Submit to the word of Bane as uttered by his ranking clergy, since true power can only be gained through service to him. Spread the dark fear of Bane. It is the doom of those who do not follow him to let power slip through their hands. Those who cross the Black Hand meet their dooms earlier and more harshly than those who worship other deities.³

Even were there nothing else to go off of, this would tell us a great deal about the group dynamics of any followers of Bane, whether established church or fragmented cult. Just as in the Hells, hierarchy is everything to proponents of lawful evil. Any cult of Bane would have a strict order to its power structure, and there would be limited – practically nonexistent – tolerance for any questioning or insubordination of that order. To the minds of Banites, such is simply the natural and superior ordering of the world. These interactions are detailed below: 

Within the church, the church hierarchy resolves internal disputes through cold and decisive thoughts, not rash and uncontrolled behavior. Bane’s clerics and worshipers try to assume positions of power in every realm so that they can turn the world over to Bane. They work subtly and patiently to divide the forces of their enemies and elevate themselves and the church’s allies over all others, although they do not fear swift and decisive violent action to help achieve their aims.³ 

The manner of tyranny that Bane holds to is similarly calculated – he is not interested in mere shows of force, but rather in insidious plots that twist and make use of existing rule of law to legitimize tyranny wherever possible. A social tide operated ostensibly within the laws of the land is far more troublesome to fight back against than a simple army.⁴ 

As far as specific ritual and day-to-day workings of the cult, some can be evidenced here, in broad strokes: 

Bane’s clerics pray for spells at midnight. They have no calendar-based holidays, and rituals are held whenever a senior cleric declares it time. Rites of Bane consist of drumming, chanting, doomful singing, and the sacrifice of intelligent beings, who are humiliated, tortured, and made to show fear before their death by flogging, slashing, or crushing.³ 

In this sense, rituals seem most likely to be used as a display of power and a test of subservience, leaving lower-ranked members of the cult at the whims of their superiors, expected – as noted previously – to attend to their commands with the same alacrity they would use were Bane himself to speak. The rites themselves are designed to reinforce and glorify the primary aspects of their god’s domain: the tyranny of forcing submission and pain from the weak. 

Faiths & Pantheons, published a year after the Campaign Setting supplement, provides a similar description of the rituals of the cult of Bane, along with some intriguing and flavorful additions (noted in bold for ease of comparison): 

Their religion recognizes no official holidays, though servants give thanks to the Black Hand before and after major battles or before a particularly important act of subterfuge. Senior clerics often declare holy days at a moment's notice, usually claiming to act upon divine inspiration granted to them in dreams. Rites include drumming, chanting, and the sacrifice of intelligent beings, usually upon an altar of black basalt or obsidian.”⁴

As, in the “present day” of Baldur’s Gate 3, Bane has lost much of his foothold on power and his Faith’s old domains, the specifics of architecture of Banite keeps are no longer quite so relevant. However, in times past, when his Faith worked far more openly and held much greater power, the philosophy of Bane was expressed through the architecture of his churches and strongholds: 

Tall, sharp-cornered stone structures featuring towers adorned with large spikes and thin windows, most Banite churches suggest the architecture of fortified keeps or small castles. Thin interior passageways lead from an austere foyer to barrackslike common chambers for the lay clergy, each sparsely decorated with tapestries depicting the symbols of Bane or inscribed with embroidered passages from important religious texts.⁴

The social capital of a Faith – a broad term used to encapsulate all followers of a single deity – is often heavily intertwined with the power of its god, a mutualistic relationship that runs in both directions. More social weight behind the Faith means its god’s name and will is conveyed to more people, some or many of whom might apportion some worship or act in alignment with that god and empower them by so doing. More power for the god means more divine actions that can bolster their own image and the reach of their clergy. At its height in the late 1300s, the Faith of Bane was one of the most prominent and powerful, with comparable might to that of a small kingdom.⁵

Something that is important to bear in mind in a setting such as the Forgotten Realms, not only polytheistic, but an environment where the gods being worshiped are demonstrably existent, is that the followers of evil gods are not likely to be obtrusive with the less savory aspects of their dogma. Not only would that, in the majority of cases, do more harm than good to their deity’s long term goals, in the words of Elminster: 

A dead foe is just that: dead, and soon to be replaced by another. An influenced foe, on the other hand, is well on the way to becoming an ally, increasing the sway of the deity.⁶

All of this aligns with what we see of the Cult of Bane and its operation in Baldur’s Gate 3. While it does not have the same sway and might behind it as it did a hundred years before, through manipulation of law and carefully applied pressure – of whatever form most likely to yield the desired results, be it threats, bribery, blackmail, or use of hostages – Gortash has enacted a steel web of delicate, ensnaring tyranny across the entire city. 

We can even find present-day expressions of the interactions of the cult members, and find that they hold true to what their forebears experienced, further proof of the consistency of lawful evil. A personal note found on the body of a dead Banite guard at the Steel Watch Foundry calls the Black Gauntlet in charge of the Foundry Lab, Hahns Rives, a “disgrace to the Tyrant Lord”, and notes the writer’s intent to “compile a list of Rives’ shortcomings for the Overseers.”⁷ These shortcomings include: 

1. Rives failed to reprimand Polandulus for making jokes about Lord Gortash! 2. Rives missed the morning mass to Bane - twice! 3. Rives didn't punish Gondian Ofran when she missed her gyronetics quota merely because she'd lost a finger that day in the punch press.⁷

We can see evidenced here the constant scheming for position and recognition consistent with this manner of lawful evil hierarchy. Both devils and Banites orient their day-to-day lives around how to prove themselves to their superiors, while also undercutting them at any chance they have to prove their own superiority, with hopes of being raised above them. 

This is only reinforced further by another text found within the Steel Watch Foundry, Bane’s Book of Admonitions. Its text is not written out for us, but described as such:

A book of adages and precepts for Banites, providing the basic tenets of worship of the Lord of Tyranny, with suggested prayers for common situations. The heart of the book is Bane's Twelve Admonitions, a dozen rules for proper Banite conduct, with punishments specified for failure to comply. The book opens easily to a page with two of Bane's most popular admonitions, number six, the Reprimand for Leniency, and number seven, the Rebuke for False Compassion.⁸

The most likely scenario is that this book was used by the “Overseers” referenced by the anonymous Banite writing of Rives above. The exact position of the Overseers is not made clear, but from context and knowledge of Banite hierarchy, we can infer that they inhabit a place in the hierarchy above both the guard and Rives himself, and that their role is to ensure all those below them uphold the tenets of Bane at all times, never losing sight of his will. 

In that context, it makes sense that they would both have a book of specific punishments for specific infractions – rule of law, after all – and that, given the attempted report on Rives, punishments (“admonitions”) for the crimes of leniency and false compassion – and all compassion is false when your conception of the world does not allow for its existence – would be those most referenced. It would be incredibly important to the unity of the cult, as well as to Gortash’s plans, to harshly punish any observed leniency or break from Bane’s law among members of the cult.

Not only would failure to control the situation at the Foundry potentially spell failure for the schemes of Bane’s Chosen, any unpunished step out of line by members of the cult would be seen as tempting others to do the same, a trickle of dissent quickly becoming a flood. Better to ensure that all adherents live in merited fear of the consequence of failure. 

After all, it is said of Bane himself: “He has no tolerance of failure and seldom thinks twice about submitting even a loyal servant to rigorous tortures to ensure complete obedience to his demanding, regimented doctrine.”⁴

And, in an appropriately lawful hierarchy, the same rule must apply from the bottom, to the top.

¹ Sword Coast Adventurer’s Guide. 2014. p. 26.

² Descent into Avernus. 2019. p. 231

³ Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting 3E. 2001. pp. 237-8

⁴ Faiths & Pantheons. 2002. pp. 15-16.

⁵ Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting 3E. 2001. p. 93

⁶ Ed Greenwood Presents: Elminster’s Guide to the Forgotten Realms. 2012. pp. 135-6.

⁷ Rives’ Failures as a Banite. Baldur’s Gate 3. In-Game Text.

⁸ Bane’s Book of Admonitions. Baldur’s Gate 3. In-Game Text.

#voidling speaks #asked and answered #realmslore #meta #my meta #bg3 meta #bg3 #bg3 gortash #bg3 bane #enver gortash #bane #baldur's gate 3 #forgotten realms #cult of bane #d&d 5e #d&d 3.5

[kairiscorner]

I am here to suggest the ultimate shy highschool Miguel concept:

Miguel trying to ask you, his not-so-secret crush to prom, with Gabriel's help of course 🧡 ~🍄

OH MY GOD, YES !!!

will you... — high school!miguel o'hara x gn!reader

only less than a week until prom, and miguel still hasn't built up the courage to hand his dream date the letter he had been working on for a long while now. this is probably the fifth letter he's written, and you can say he might be a bit of a control freak, but, he just wants to tell you exactly how he feels; he doesn't wanna beat around the bush or tell you in a wordy way something that can be said in three words–he wants to say seven words, but can't even handle the thought of speaking either one of them in one sentence to you without losing his composure and feeling weak in the knees. he's clutching the letter in his hands and sighs, he adjusts his glasses on his face again and practices going up to you as if you were the mirror right then and there, and tries to 'play it cool'. "would... you... go with me t-to..." miguel stuttered, and as thoughts of you and your beautiful self debilitated him; he bit his tongue and quit talking, and eventually, he had fumbled for the umpteenth time all over again. miguel clutched the letter in his hand and sighed, running his other hand through his curly dark locks, looking frustrated as ever. "miggy, are you being a dork about it all over this again?" asked his younger brother, gabriel, as the boy entered the room and raised an eyebrow at him.

miguel, in his flustered daze at the sudden arrival of his little brother, threw the letter for you in his drawer and shut it closed. "wh-what letter?" he blurted out hurriedly, making gabriel very suspicious of his older brother's actions. "...i didn't mention any letter, but okay." he said as he looked at miguel up and down and sighed, shaking his head. "ay, mi hermano, you can't ask them out like this." gabriel said in a disappointed tone, pointing at miguel's disheveled appearance, making him look down at himself and raise an eyebrow at his younger brother's comment. "not like you get any dates, either..." miguel murmured, making gabriel faked heartache and dramtically grabbed at his chest and cried out in fake pain. "at least i'm confirmed to be cuter than you, hermano..." the younger boy quipped as miguel rolled his eyes and looked back into the mirror, running his hand through his dark curls. miguel sighed as he took off his glasses and ran a comb through his hair.

"i don't even know why i bother, it's not like i'd be any choice of theirs; they just know me as... that one cranky kid that always gets the science tests perfectly, they don't even... know how i look at them." miguel muttered as gabriel walked over to miguel and got him some gel. "well, isn't you telling them how they'll be able to find out?" the younger boy asked as he styled his older brother's hair up with the gel. miguel shrugged. "...i mean, sure, but not like..." "not like what?" miguel sighed as gabriel opened up his brother's closet and whispered in spanish how 'crappy' miguel's fashion sense was, asking him if he had anything but graphic tees or plain white shirts. "it's not like they'll take it happily." "and why not, because you dress up like a shut-in? of course, nobody wants a nerd that wears three variants of the same shirt, i know i don't." "you know that's not what i mean, gabri." miguel said in a monotonous voice as he glared at his little brother, making the younger boy stick his tongue out at him.

gabriel chuckled and scraped together a decent-looking outfit for miguel to wear that didn't look tacky nor corny and was just the right color palette that suited him. "well, you don't know; you can solve literally every math problem out there and discover all kinds of scientific phenomena, but you'll never be able to predict love, hermano. si está destinado a suceder, así será. si no, entonces no lo será," gabriel explained as he smiled up at his brother and patted his shoulders comfortingly, extending his support to the hopelessly in love yet doubtful little idiot that miguel was at that moment. "they'll come around eventually, whatever they feel for you now is out of our control. but if you ask me... they'd definitely love you, i'm sure of it, even if you have no problem with mismatched socks with sandals, they'd like you still. but i probably wouldn't." gabri joked at the end of his comforting words, with miguel chuckling and jokingly punching his younger brother's arm, making the younger boy giggle and jokingly punch him back. "drama king. but anyway... thanks, gabri. i needed that." he thanked his younger brother with a head pat and shoulder pat, with gabri extending his arms to wrap his brother in a hug, whispering in his ear how they seriously have to turn to miguel's closet for the next charity drive because of how many variations of the same shirt he has.

with a lump in his throat that he couldn't swallow, miguel hastily shuffled over to you by your locker, clutching the letter he made for you for the sixth time in his hands that began to sweat. he was thinking of too many things all at once, which troubled him deeply, but his younger brother was at the corner—cheering him on and reassuring him that he's got this. miguel takes in a deep breath and taps you by the shoulder. you turn to face him, and miguel's stupefied for a moment at how beautiful you looked right then and there. "oh, hey mig, what's u—" "wouldyouliketogowithmetotheprom?"

...

"uh, hah, what was that? sorry, you spoke too fast..." you told him with a shy grin, feeling a bit flustered at the only words you picked up from his hurried breath of a question. miguel apologized and fidgeted with the letter's ends for a bit. he stammered and blanked out for a few moments, but finally, he was able to ask you clearly while handing the letter, "would you... like to go with me... to the prom?" he asked you all softly, staring at your hand that was going to take the letter from his own; your fingers brushing over his, which made him whimper a little. you smiled and chuckled, gently holding on to his hand over the letter for a lingering while. "i thought you'd never ask, of course i do, mig."

"...really?" he asked you in a hushed voice, his face too flustered to not smile. you chuckled again and pushed his glasses back up on his face and nodded with a smile. "really." "yes!" exclaimed a high-pitched voice from the corner, it was gabriel rejoicing as he paused the recording on his camera, exclaiming happily in spanish how the nerd brother he has finally has a date for the prom! miguel groaned as you laughed, still holding his hand, you took the letter with your other hand and pulled away from him. "so... i'll be seeing you next week?" you asked him awkwardly as miguel stammered and nodded. "ah, y-yeah, i'll... i'll see you." "better wear one of your graphic tees then, dork." you teased him as you kissed his cheek and sent him to overdrive, short-circuiting his brain and keeping him frozen in place in front of the lockers as you bid him goodbye and headed off to class.

"and here is the nerd of the century, getting kissed by his date on the cheek?! wait 'till i tell mamá that he's hitting first base—" gabriel exclaimed into the camera, but miguel was quick and dashed on his heels, running after his little brother to stop him from utter embarrassment. "gabri, quit filming, you little gremlin!" the older boy exclaimed as gabriel screamed and ran off with the camera in his hand, calling miguel names and teasing him about him and his date... how you two were just the perfect little nerds together.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @hearts4gabri @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @fictarian @yuridopted0 @simsrandomstuff @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @arachnoia @melovetitties @fable-library @ophanimgold @smokeywhalee @capnshtfce

#miguel o'hara #young miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #young miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fluff #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #atsv fluff #atsv fanfiction #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse fanfiction #spiderman across the spiderverse fluff

[moonshynecybin]

short fic (1.6k) continuation of @kingofthering's forced coming out au where i read what they say and my brain immediately spirals ! context here... this is my take on the resolution where vale is god's guiltiest little motorcycle racer

Vale looks him square in the eyes, shakes his head like he can’t believe Marc doesn’t get it. He takes a sip of his beer and shrugs. Like it’s nothing.

“Marc, it’s my fault.”

“What? No, it isn’t.” Marc replies, instinctual. He had been the one on his knees. The one everyone could see in that photo. Vale hadn't needed to— Vale had done this because of him, the Honda PR person had said. He could’ve denied that he was even there that night, the way Yamaha had wanted him to.

Vale laughs bitterly. “It is. I asked you to do that. I told you to— I found you, that night.” Vale breaks off again, lip curling. He’s working through something, face uncharacteristically serious, and Marc knits his brow. Vale’s never like this, always quick with a joke, a comment, a deflection. Anything but the pain of the truth. Show. 

Vale tilts his head, tries to find the words. “After Sepang I wasn’t going to—"

Marc folds his arms. He doesn’t know how Sepang has fucking anything to do with this.

“You broke it off.”

Vale’s face twists, he tugs on his earring, jitters his leg. “I know,” He says, quiet. Continues: “I was. I could see myself.” he takes a big breath, looks up at the sky. Marc keeps his eyes lasered on him, on the long line of his neck. The hinge of his jaw. The narrow spread of his shoulders. Marc inhales, draws his anger tight around him. He deserves an explanation.

“I should’ve been able to stay away from you.” Is what Vale settles on, with conviction. As if he hasn’t said the most confusing thing possible.

“What?” Marc says, caught out.

Vale scrubs a hand over his face, through his hair. Makes eye contact with the ground. He speaks slowly, like it’s hurting him.

“After Phillip Island. last year. I think— that I told myself that I had gotten too… invested. In you. In us. It didn’t make sense to me. I thought I couldn't be with you and win at the same time.”

Marc feels that hit him. Blinks fast. He curls his palm to rest over his elbow, digs a nail into the skin there. Flashes of that press conference imprint themselves on his memory, as tangible as touch. The waxy texture of the table, the flash of cameras, the sweat on the back of his neck. The sickening confusion, like a black hole in his stomach.

“Is that why you said what you said?” He asks, keeping his face blank, his voice even. He feels like live bees are thrumming under his skin, frenetic and disordering. He remembers the last time they’d fucked— not in the alleyway, but at Philip Island. How Valentino’s fingers had trailed over his back after he’d come. Gentle. How’d he’d been gone by the morning, the bed cold. “In Sepang?”

Vale looks at him, finally, and Marc inhales sharply. He's never seen him like this, with this precise expression on his face. He looks— vulnerable. Nervous. Scared even. Vale bites at the nails on one hand. Stares at the label of his beer bottle. Comes to some sort of decision.

He nods.

“And that night?” At the club, Marc means. In the alleyway.

Vale nods again, huffs a weak laugh. his eyebrows jump a little in an ironic expression. “I wanted to see you. If i hadn’t—“ He waves a hand through the air, a small gesture for such a huge, alien concept. “Then we wouldn’t be here. Doing this. It's me. My fault.” 

Marc digs his nails harder into his elbow for just a second, then releases, a disbelieving spasm. HIs pulse is racing. He leans forward, putting his forearms on the table, until Vale looks him in the eye.

“No.”

“No?” Vale asks, looking confused and just a little miserable.

“No.”

Marc pinches the bridge of his nose. Takes a second to process.

“You want me?” He says, and it still feels like a risk, enough adrenaline coursing through his system he might as well be on track. It focuses him a little, like it always has. Simplifies things.

“Marc,” Vale starts.

“No, no. This is serious. Not just for sex. Not just for— all this,” What we’ve been doing, he means. The pretending. The show. How he’s been kissing Vale any chance he gets in public and then going back to ignoring him in private. Engineering ways to be seen together, just on the off chance he could get Vale’s hand on the small of his back. And how Vale, Marc is realizing, has been matching him every step of the way. Has been finding him in the paddock just so he can trail his fingers over the inside of Marc’s wrist, can kiss him good luck before a race. He had been the one to make the first move at the club, Marc remembers. Had been the one to find him in the alleyway. “For real. You want me?”

“Yes.” Vale says, after a moment eyes soft, the low light turning his curls bronze.

Marc thinks he means it.

He closes his eyes, breathes deep. There's other things he wants to talk about, that they need to talk about, but that’s something. Vale wants him.

“I was there too. That night. You—“ Marc swallows, “You were awful to me. For months. You made everyone hate me. I lost sponsors, I lost you. and I was still there. With you in that alley. You asked and I came. It’s not just your fault.” Marc says, and Vale shakes his head.

Marc leans forward, grabs Vale’s hand.

“When those pictures came out,” He says, “Did Yamaha give you a choice? To ignore it or to come forward?”

Vale takes a second to respond. “Yes.”

“And you wanted to come forward?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

And the silence breaks, Vale laughing that laugh of his, the one Marc used to do anything to hear, big and loud, like Marc’s said something insane. Something ridiculous.

“Marc. I don't know how many more ways I can say it.” He says, and Marc’s heart is racing in his chest, eyes meeting Vale’s like a lifeline.

For me, Marc thinks. Turns over in his mind until it feels like it might be the truth. He did it for me, to protect me. To make sure I could race. 

Because without Vale, Marc doesn’t know if that would’ve been allowed— too big a PR risk after Sepang, especially with the way he rides. MotoGP is ruled by money, by advertising, and Marc as the only gay rider on the grid might’ve put him over the edge. Made him too much. It's harder to sell energy drinks after you’ve been photographed with a dick in your mouth.

But Vale had stepped forward too, spun the narrative. One of his best talents. One of his worst. But he’d flipped here, done the exact opposite of what he’d done in Sepang, and Marc and him had suddenly been something for people to root for— not an outlier to be exiled, but a team. The two biggest names in MotoGP much harder to get rid of as a unit than as individuals.

Vale had made sure Marc could get on his bike again. And that’s— that’s everything.

“Those photos…” Marc says, remembering what they were talking about. The whole reason why Vale felt he had to do this.

“You know, I don't actually mind the photos!” Vale says, his impish nature poking through a bit, sensing something from Marc and breaking the tension like he always does. He’s allowing himself to flirt, visibly assured by Marc’s hand on his, by the possibility that this conversation might be going well. “You looked very good on your knees. I might make copies.”

Marc closes his eyes, can’t help but smile. “Vale.”

“I might get them framed!” Vale toasts his beer, eyes crinkling at the corners. “In some ways, it’s our anniversary.”

“Vale!” Marc laughs, then taps him on the inside of the wrist, gets him to pay attention. There's one more thing he wants to know. He bites his lip. “Without those photos, what would’ve happened?”

Vale thinks, tilts his head to the side and shrugs. “I don't know.”

Marc nods, waits. He can tell Vale has more to say.

Vale raises a finger. “But here is what I do know: I love you. And we should do this, for real. No more pretend.”

Marc puts his head in his hands. Thinks about the last year, how awful it’s been. About how all the worst parts have involved Valentino. About how all the best parts have involved him too. About Vale deciding to do this with him. About that night at the Gala in June, when he’d thought Vale was going to kiss him, just the two of them, and how badly he’d wanted it. About Vale pulling him closer under his arm in that first press conference, and deflecting all of the worst questions like it was nothing, protecting Marc. About the precise shape his hand makes when it curves around Marc’s hip. About how he makes him laugh. 

Marc smiles.

He picks his head up, laughs and feels a little like crying. Feels a little like flying. His brain won’t stop whirring. “We’re going to have to tell the factories. Honda and Yamaha.”

“Oh that’s easy! We find an alleyway—“ And Marc pushes him, doubles over laughing. Warm down to his toes, happy in his bones. This is going to work. They were always going to end up here. “What? It worked the last time.” Vale says. 

“I'll think about it,” Marc says, still giggling, and feels Valentino’s ankle press against his under the table.

“I would enjoy that.”

“Mmm, I’m sure you would.”

“And in the meantime, I have those photos to hold me over.”

“Vale!”

#thought about writing this whole goddamn fic but then decided just to do the fun parts: beginning and end. who needs character development #skip all that. fast forward. follow your heart. the audience will fill in the blanks. #anyways this is after vale has had some REALIZATIONS and divested himself from delulu island and is basically miserable. slay. #callie speaks #motogp #rosquez #forced coming out au #my fic

[andysorbit]

hiii. I am here to beg on my knees to have YOU write anything for Minho plz plz plz!!! go to town with it. I know you'll write something heavenly nasty that'll make my clits alarm go WEEE-OOO 🚨 feed my 13 years of delulu. fuck me up. *kitheth* from your fellow SHINee hoe 💎

I knew I'd be seeing you about our favorite himbo 😎😎

I got some good news homie you don't even have to beg... walk with me for a moment... I gotta tell you something 😏

Minors, fuck off

Mentions of a reader who owns a cooter

so Minho is type of partner who has 3 sides.

1. Hard Dom

Hard dom Minho is very serious when you two are playing. He's firm. He's not gonna tell you something 3 or 4 times. He knows that it's absolutely realistic to be so caught up in excitement, lust, and the orders that he gives you that his commands fall on short-circuiting ears but he will never tell you something more than twice. Never.

He loves things messy and sloppy. He's the kind of guy to devour your pussy just because he it's his favorite thing to do. He doesn't care if he's supposed to be punishing you. He has a weakness: tasting you, bumping his nose against your clit while he's fucking you with his tongue, seeing the way your thighs glisten when he spreads your legs. He's obsessed with it. When you're good, he'll eat you out, fuck you, spill his cum inside of you, and then go right back to eating you out. He doesn't necessarily care about what's considered taboo when it comes to eating you out or even if lapping his own cum up as he eats you out is considered insane. He knows what he wants, he knows what he likes, and above all else; he knows that everything he does makes you cum harder and harder each time he does it to you and that's the only thing he has on his mind. When you're bad, you don't get to try and scoot away from him or push him off of you. He's not pulling you back to him. Why? Because you're not moving away from him and why are you not moving away from him? Because you know better. Oh, God do you know better.

He's big on doggy style. The way he can grab at you, reposition you, drive his cock deep into you with deep emphatic strokes that he knows will have you sobbing and begging him to never stop. He loves that he all of this power over you because when he's talking dirty in your ear; calling you a cum dump, an easy hole, or a cocksleeve- he doesn't have to sell that concept to you. You both know how easy you'll give it up for him. He loves that he's found someone he can love and degrade, worship and deprive, pamper and control.

He's a huge fan of watching you struggle to fit his cock inside you

(3rd arm agenda, okay??)

He's gonna talk some shit about it too. He isn't a toxic man but he's a manly man and manly men like doing things that bring out the masculine parts of themselves that make them feel all of the wonders of their "prime" (I use the term "prime" very loosely because as long as you're alive, you're in your prime) so he loves dragging you back to him when he's overstimulating you, loves how you try in vain to push his hands away from your sensitive cunt, how you respond to how deep his voice is as he's talking you through another orgasm.

He likes to spank you and sometimes slap your face but he loves handling you and he'd much rather wrap a hand around your throat to hold you in place while he's fucking you in missionary. When he's fucking you from behind, he'd rather trap your arms behind your back and drive into you. He loves the Pretzel Dip position the best and will definitely make you suck his fingers any chance he gets.

He has an oral fixation. Will he obliterate your throat? Yes. The sight of you on your knees for him; teary-eyed, trembling, and drooling from the corners of your mouth is enough to make him cum.

2. Soft dom

Minho as a soft dom is playfully and adventurous. He likes to laugh and tease and he's a bit of a pushover. He'll tease you just so he can hear you whine and laugh when you do. He thinks you're cute, lush, beautiful. He wants to show you that even though you're both playing, you're still the center of everything for him. He wants to spoil you with his time, his love, his body. He loves knowing that he can get you off. That alone is so hot and he wants to show you that he appreciates the trust you have for him in all aspects of your relationship. He loves watching his fingers or his cock slowly sink into your cunt or how puffy and used your lips get from blowing him. He's gonna tell you that your cunt is gorgeous- yes gorgeous because to call anything about you pretty is lazy in his eyes and he has to always do his best to make you comprehend how he sees you.

3. Sub Minho

He's gonna praise you, talk you through your orgasms, overstimulate you while he chuckles. When you're trying to get away from him, he's very much a "Hey, love, don't leave me... Please. Need you so much, okay?" and how could you ever deprive this man of his favorite indulgence?

Every once in a while, he'll let you take control. He's not super submissive but he'll let you pull his hair, choke him, and whatever else you want- within reason. He's not into pegging but he's a giver and he's fair so he'll let you try things if you're curious.

Bonus: Aftercare

When he's in the head space to let you be in control, he likes watching you ride him. Loves the way you look when you hover over him and fuck yourself up and down on his cock; how you sigh when he reaches up to toy with your nipples or presses his hand to the small if your back. He's just in love.

Overall, Minho is a simp for his partner and aftercare is something he loves to do. Aftercare when he's done hard domming you is gentle, quiet, and playful. He also needs reassurance from you. Reassurance that he satisfied you and that he didn't go too far. He has the self control of a Saint but he always needs the reassurance that in his own moment of excitement, lust, and control that you didn't set a boundary only for it to fall on short-circuited ears. He's getting you a drink, cracking a window for some fresh air, and you're both going into the gentle affirmations part of your aftercare routine.

When he's done soft domming you, he's silly, soft, and clingy. He loves holding you but he also loves when you hold him so he can press his face into the crook of your neck for some good ol' snuggle time.

and thank you for coming to my TedTalk

When he's feeling more submissive, he doesn't feel that he needs aftercare unless you're both trying something new but he likes to cater to you and your needs after. Sometimes you need it and other times you don't. When you don't, he's down to just rest with you.

no but that was a spiral that I didn't expect holy hell thank you for reading if you got through it all!!

and thank you to @saradika for the dividers 🤍

#neoculturecollectives #andy's mail #shinee smut #choi minho smut #choi minho #shinee #kpop smut #shinee hard hours #shinee hard thoughts #kpop hard hours #kpop hard thoughts #shinee x reader #choi minho x reader #shinee minho #shinee minho smut.

[weebsinstash]

So, hear me out, but; what if y/n was totally aware that Miguel is into them? It's flattering, having this huge, incredibly dangerous man that's really obviously weak in the knees when you give him doe eyes, or lean over him and press your chest up against his back to point at something on his screen. You never treat it seriously, always flitting in and out of Nueva York and in and out of Miguel's reach. Teasing, flirting, but never going further than that, simply enjoying the attention and warm fuzzies that come with making a man break the mug he's holding because you stretched and your shirt rode up enough to expose your belly.

And it's not like he's gonna do anything bad! It's just flirting, and he's a fellow Spiderperson! You're all good people here... Right?

This is kind of different but similar but, I find myself drawn to Reader inserts/characters that like, maybe if they don't hate themselves, are like inherently incapable of even considering that someone might like them romantically, like you're not constant gloom and doom but you find the concept of someone loving you romantically outright wacky crazy

Miguel throws a lil tiny experimental flirt towards Reader to test the waters, and Reader flirts right back because they think he's JOKING. Miguel takes that as a sign and starts giving you more compliments and little flirtatious remarks and you just think this is like, platonic teasing, that he's ribbing you, you think Its Like A Friend Thing Like A Gimmick, and it takes him a while to notice you have absolutely no idea he's being 2099% serious when he makes those corny comments about how he gets lost in your eyes, saying shit like he's the hunky male lead from a telenovela or something

Combine this with the alternative dangerously risky concept of "Reader who jokingly says foul/raunchy shit" which is also a Val/Reader concept I've had. But like. Idk. Miguel sees you slurping a soda or sweet drink or idk even smoking and he jokes like "wow those are some lungs" and without blinkijg before you can even consider the consequences you hit him with "yeah I can suck dick like this too" and he chokes on his own food in shock, red as a tomato. Or Reader jokingly slaps his butt like some real football locker room go team shit or maybe you're teasing him and telling him he's "fat" and he has to excuse himself while the skin is still stinging because, oh my GOD did you just give him the biggest hard-on and it's about to EXPLODE--

Just accidentally making him totally crazy about you because you're literally too doubtful of him potentially having feelings for you or being interested in you in any capacity besides platonically that you accidentally act your unhindered full charisma self. You're too doubtful of him loving you to be self conscious and embarrassed of anything you say or do and think he just sees you as like, a sibling. Someday you'll learn to regret all those times you jokingly kissed him on the cheek because you thought it would gross him out or the time you got too drunk on spiked eggnog at the Christmas party and kissed him right on the mouth, but like, almost as you would a brother or a cat, as you coo how handsome he is, hes such a pretty boy, and "why hasn't he found himself a wife yet-- wait shit I am so sorryyyyyyyy i forgot 😥" because. You know. poor guy. But also. Gotta love the dilf factor

Ughhhhhh there really are a lot of us feeling the "baby trapping" energy from this man. Miguel who pokes holes in condoms because the second you get pregnant "oh, in that case well, I'll take responsibility and marry you and we can raise the baby :)" which I mean, considering his losses that's its own significant undertaking for him, that entire process and line of thinking is some sort of combination "healing" while getting ten times worse. Not to say he doesn't adore you or the thought of having kids with you, just... he might not be considering the most noble of methods anymore, for anything really. Getting drinks with you and biding his time until the alcohol slowly loosens you up and he gets you alone and you're too tipsy and sex hungry to stop and realize he isn't using protection until he's, you know, finishing inside of you. He'll use a drunken one night stand to try and weasel his way into dating you, if you're not already pregnant from that one night. I mean shit he's just so like large and imposing and just, God, he's hot though, I feel like it would be so hard to not visibly be flustered at the very least, and he'll use any reactions you make as cues for what he can try next. Even just suddenly grabbing your hips or waist or sides and making you suddenly squeak and he can tell by the look on your face that he's totally getting you hot even if maybe you're embarrassed and might not inherently want to act on anything (yet? Imagine wanting that Thick Dilf Dick and being physically attracted to him and respecting him and so you legitimate pursue him if only hust for sex and somehow you Accidentally Unlock The Crazy In Him)

One day you think he's just a harmless coworker, the next day you're finding he's got extensive stalker ass records for you, pictures, videos, just surveillance things, and he's not quite as Charming and Valiant to you anymore. In fact you're just about starting to realize all those comments he made that made you swoon before are now starting to make your skin crawl, but hey, just like you stumbled upon his secret, he stumbles upon you and catches you red handed, and well, he's sorry you found out this way but he was going to confess to you more seriously eventually right? Is THIS enough of a clear signal for you yet?

#valentino telling you you have rough ass hands and youre just like let me jerk you off i can exfoliate your dick like a pumice stone #vox just HOWLING with laughter #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere spiderverse #yandere stuff #sinprompts #also i hypothetically have a miguel draft possibly two maybe only one will see the lifht of day we shall see i promise nothing

[enterwittyjokehere]

[This was definitely a fun one to write lol. I did try this same concept with perfect and was going to make it [perfect] a smut piece but I really just like comfy Raiden he's a very comforting character, anyway hope you enjoy]

Strong Enough

[Mk 1 Raiden x amab reader smut]

[Warnings]

[amab reader]

[He/him pronouns used]

[slightly insecure reader]

[comfort]

[Smut 18+ only]

[blowj*bs]

[handj*bs]

It had all happened faster than you had realized, in the midst of a heavy battle. The sounds of war were far more deserving of your focus than the man who sent himself flying towards you.

Guns going off, screaming, metal clanging, the horrid sounds that littered the landscape, were almost blacked out as you fell to the hard dirt beneath you. Raiden landed on top of you as a long beam of acid flew past where you had been standing. Raiden's breathing was heavy and strained. He quickly got up, holding out a hand for you to take, helping you back up. 

The whole situation left you shaken up, taking a moment to collect yourself. Before you turned to Raiden, “Thank you, Rai.” 

He only nodded.

Earthrealm’s champion said nothing before taking off, sending a sharp bolt of electricity to one of the poor mixed up mirrors of your teammates. One of your rivals and fellow earthrealmer Johnny cage, spoke up from behind you, throwing an odd looking blonde Australian woman to the ground.

“I always knew you'd fall for each other eventually..” The American scrunched his nose as he teased you.

“How about you shut it, Cage.” Was your only retort, the fiery blush on your face hidden from the dirt that cling to the sweat on your face.

You slowly turned your attention back to fighting as rage seeped into your mind, from your allies’ teasing. Tearing through enemies only made your anger worse as Cage's teasings echoed through your head. You scaled up the winding staircase, running into more and more messed up mirrors of your teammates. Most if your opponents were easy matches, it wasn't until a much larger tarkatan Raiden blocked your path, that you stumbled backwards, eyeing up your opponent.

“This doesn't have to happen this way, I have no quarrel with Raiden.” You said, taking your fighting stance. Fear hit you like a train as the monster also assumed a fighting stance, lightning buzzing from his fists.

“My quarrel with you still stands, however.” 

The much larger beast version of your ally approached you, grabbing the cloth of your gi. Pulling away, you freed yourself rather quickly from the grasp of the beast, delivering swift punches to his gut. The effect the hits had on him were little to none, you attempted to throw a roundhouse to knock him off. He palmed your kick, catching your ankle in his hand, a sadistic simper taking over his monstrous features.

His hand began to buzz as electricity swirled around the monster’s body, a blistering pain traveled through your leg. The leg he held violently shaking as tears filled your eyes, crying out in pain, he let go. You dropped to your knees, feeling weak from the amount of electricity you had just taken. The monster grabbed your face, turning your head, forcing you to stare up at him. 

“My version of you is much more competent, his likeness is clearly wasted on you.” The words had Raiden's tone and cadence and yet they hurt in ways that Raiden could never -would never- attempt.

Raiden's monster doppelganger quickly dropped your face, reeling his leg back as if he was going to kick you. You tensed up, bracing for the impact, the pain, yet it never came. 

A soft grunting sound was heard as you opened your eyes and you saw your Raiden, who had grabbed his leg, holding onto it. Before Kenshi sliced the creature's head, with a slushing sound it slid to the ground.

“(Y/n)! By the elder gods, please, tell me your okay!” Raiden pleaded, grabbing your face to look into your eyes.

“Yes, Raiden, Gods-! I'm fine.” You shooed Liu Kang's champion away, standing to your feet, you winced and retracted kneeling back down. Your lower leg was red and blistered, standing on it made it shake almost violently, you would not be able to stand on it.

“Doesn't look fine to me… Raiden, I'll handle this, you take him away from the fight, he needs immediate help.”

“No, I can help, please.” You pleaded, looking up at Kenshi.

Raiden kneeled back down attempting to calm you, he placed his hand on your shoulder, “Hey, Hey, right now, we need to focus on getting you help. Or this could turn into something much worse.”

“Then can Kenshi take me, at least?” Your words sent a pain through Raiden as he slowly backed away from you. 

Raiden did well to disguise the hurt in his heart, looking to Kenshi, who only shook his head. “Raiden is best equipped to help, I am more needed here.”

With a huff, you looked back up at Raiden, who only gave you a sympathetic look. Before bending down, to guide your arm over his shoulder, his hand sat in the dip of your hip. Raiden's hand pushed you into his body, you struggled to stand up, the shaking of your dominant leg only made Raiden more worried. Raiden and you both struggled down the steps, dodging stray attacks from other fights. When Raiden finally got the two of you to the base of the stairway, he sat you down, breathing heavily and clutching his stomach.

“Are you okay?” You attempted to stand, falling to your knees again, “Raiden…”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm fine… you weren't the only one that needed a break from the battle.” His words were muffled by his pained grimace, “Mistook an enemy scorpion for our ally, he was less than pleased.”

“Come on, Raiden, we can't give up, we can't die here.” You pleaded, crawling closer to him.

Raiden's pained expression faltered, if only for a second, he smiled. Looking up at you Raiden, lifted up onto his arms, “You're right, like always, we're in this together, yeah?”

You gave him a small smile, “Yeah.”

“Come here, hopefully this works and I don't end up frying us.” Raiden's playful tone hid his real fear; he had tried this move one other time and it failed, luckily leaving him unscathed. Now, that you were in the picture and both of you were already injured, he had to concentrate thoroughly on his movements.

You crawled over to Raiden, getting close as he wrapped his arm around you. Raiden exhaled deeply, fear eating at the back of his brain, tossing his hand up in the air. Lightning struck his hand, almost as if Raiden's fear had seeped into you, you hid in Raiden's chest.

Attempting to shield yourself from the lightning enveloping the two of you, the knowledge that you had successfully teleported and Raiden's beaming pride were still hidden to you. Until you heard a familiar voice, “(y/n)? Raiden? Are you injured?” 

Quickly turning your eyes locked onto Raiden's divine counterpart, who worriedly approached. Raiden, stood to his feet still holding his stomach, the blood had begun to soak the white fabric of his gi.

“He can't stand, please, tend to him first.” Raiden said, making room for his godly counterpart to move to you. Lightning crackled around his hands and your body tightened in fear, the remaining stress from your previous fight lingering in your mind.

The Lightning he provided soothed your damaged nerves and healed what had been done. Your legs stopped shaking and the blisters faded, small jolts still remained but most of the physical trauma had been undone. 

Raiden smiled as you stood to your feet, before looking to his titan form, who approached him next. Lord Raiden wore a small frown as his smaller and younger counterpart showed him the slash on his side, “What happened to the two of you? You're supposed to be two of our best warriors.”

“I only had a lapse in judgment and the foe, (y/n) took on, was far too big for him to fight alone. He weakened him up enough for me and Kenshi Takahashi to knock him out of the fight.” Raiden smiled to you, but the Tarkatan Raiden's words still lingered in your mind, biting at the back of your brain. 

“No, I wasn't strong enough…” You said, your facade of being the strong and independent fighter faltered as your insecurities flooded through you, “I did my best b-”

Lord Raiden cut you off, his words came with the waving of a hand, “You need not explain your mistakes to me, now you only need to rest, heal further so the fight can continue.”

The booming of his voice was a stark contrast to the Raiden you were used to, your eyes found your Raiden, who had appeared at your side, offering a hand. He wore the same tender smile as always, you took his hand, standing to your feet, “The only thing that makes you weak is not knowing when a task is too big.” He lectured you, walking into the temple, “You have so much ambition that it clouds your senses, that doesn't have to be a downfall… Just don't hesitate to ask for help next time.”

Raiden's words came from a good place, he was only trying to comfort you, “But, I shouldn't have to need help, you always find a way to save the day… I've grown to both admire you and despise you for it..”

The sides of Raiden's smile fell as he took you through the halls of the temple. He peaked around a corner, there were a few cots littering the empty room, “I like helping you…” Raiden allowed you to enter the room first, “It makes me feel nice knowing that I've been of use to you.” 

The cot closest to the door was the one you chose, sitting on it with a huff, you replied, “Yeah, but I'm a fighter. It's all I've ever been and if you have to save my hide every time I get in over my head, that makes me-”

“You're not weak.” Raiden said, sitting in the seat beside you, “I know you're not because I look up to you, I admire you in every thing you do.”

Raiden's words made you smile, “I'm a horrible person to look up to.” 

“No, you're not, I like helping you because I want you safe… over our time spent together, I've grown feelings for you.” Raiden said, clutching at his chest, “It started off as admiration, how amazing you were at everything lord Liu Kang asked you to do and then it became stronger. It turned into adoration and I became scared… to speak around you or train when you were already there, but when I could I really enjoyed popping in to help. It made me feel like we were a team, just us two, you know?”

Raiden's confession hit you out of nowhere, it almost left you dumbstruck. When you finally ran it through your mind enough times for you to comprehend what was said, you looked up at the monk smiling.

“Raiden…” The way his name sounded from your lips, earned his attention, you leaned forward to place your hand on his knee. “You could've told me.”

“No, I wasn't strong enough..” He said, mirroring your words.

The trivial nature your words held seeping into your understanding, you placed a hand to Raiden's jaw, kissing him softly. His own hand fluttered up to yours, as he deepened the kiss he pushed you back slightly.

“Raiden…” you pulled away locking eyes with the champion, his eyebrow quirked before he began to chuckle lightly.

“We shouldn't our friends are out there fighting-” 

Your soft eyes peered into Raiden, who slowly began to melt, his lip caught between his teeth as his mind tore through his current situation. It wasn’t that he did not want to, if anything it was a mix of his fears and his guilt attacking his mind all at once, Raiden’ eyes fluttered from the door to the room you were in back to your pleading face.

“Fine, but-” Raiden pointed a finger, his usually small smile now slightly mischievous, “Quickly and quietly.”

You nodded your smile growing larger by the second, “Yeah, whatever.”

The words you spoke coeval with the hastiness of you leaning over the cot placing small kisses to Raiden’s plush lips as he laughed, “I’m se-” He grabbed your shoulders, his eyes narrowing to hold your attention fully, “I’m serious, when all this is over we can do things right and take it slow… Right now, there’s a war to win.”

The depth of Raiden’s words dug into you, nodding slowly, your eyes stared forward locked in contact with Raiden’s own. Raiden only laughed, “By the elder gods you are perfect.”

He kissed you, sweetly, his hand falling down to your thigh, grabbing at the flesh, Raiden pulled away from you. Standing up from his seated position, he kneeled down in front of you, “quickly and quietly.”

“Wait, but I thought-?” 

“My energy is needed for the fight later… but I have no issues allowing you a release.” He smiled, staring up at you, his big brown eyes melting you.

He hastily unzipped your pants, his calloused hand finding your growing erection, he lazily pumped his hand, the loose feeling felt nice but was not nearly enough to satisfy your growing hunger for the champion of Earthrealm. Biting down on your lip your hips bucked, involuntarily, you wanted more. You needed more.

“Rai, please.” 

Your soft cries made the shaolin stop, “My sweet dove, I said quiet.”

A groan slipped from your lips at Raiden’s teasings, his words sounded stern but his small smile gave his true intentions away, “Raiden, you also said quickly.”

Your p*nis throbbed in his hand, Raiden glanced down, nodding, “That is true,”

He began pumping again, his hand tighter this time, the feeling was amazing and by the way Raiden stared at you, you weren't the only one enjoying the action. Raiden stared at his hand intently making th movements perfect, he pumped from the bas, squeezing his hand tightly around your c**k, before twisting his hand as he got higher up, and running the pad of his thumb over your red aching tip. 

When Raiden’s hand moved over your tip, the perc*m collecting at the top got massaged into the skin below it, once Raiden was finally satisfied with his teasing he pulled his hand away, licking his lips. He watched as you looked over at him, panting and needy, he only smiled before clearing his throat and taking you into his mouth. His hand settled at the base of your pen*s, applying pressure, the other hand moved to your balls, gently playing with the pliable flesh, the rush of stimulation had you shaking. Raiden’s movements drove you crazy, slipping a hand onto his shoulder and giving him a tight squeeze, making him smile around you. 

Raiden took you in his mouth deeper, hitting the back of his throat, Raiden gagged and the vibrations sent you slamming into your climax, c*mming into Raiden’s mouth. Raiden pulled away from you, swallowing your seed, looking up at you with lust-filled eyes and your c*m dripping down his chin. A shaky laugh trickled from your lips, Raiden frowned slightly and wiped his face. 

#mk1 2023 #mk smut #gay #mortal kombat #x reader #queer author #mk1 raiden #raiden x reader #raiden mk #raiden mortal kombat #raiden mortal kombat smut #fanfic #amab reader

[monstrouslyobsessed]

Concept : Reader is a shrine priestess and have a crush on the shrine priest. But he is so powerful that people made a contract with the snake demon. They let him eat the priest in exchange for not attacking the village. The priest tried to fight the snake, but he was defeated. The villagers cut off his arms, so the snake can eat him better. Reader tried to save him, but was locked away in the shrine. But the priest cursed the village and his fused with the snake making him a snake monster he killed all the villagers and cut off six arms to replace those he lost. And now he can claim his sweet shrine maiden all for himself. (Sorry if its quite long and detailed, do as you wish) Thanks! —anonymous

—a/n: alright, i’ll bite and do this one with my own take, but please add the source behind such suggestions next time lol this one is originally from the compilation manga ive read forever ago, Hachishaku Hachiwa Keraku Meguri (TW!!! under-age, noncon, horror, extremely dead dove!!!), specifically the 4th story. i…don’t recommend reading every story btw, some of them are very…yikes, but the 4th one is pretty good if you can get past a certain issue (namely, the mc’s vague age range). the main difference is that the monster is a woman and mc’s a guy.

if you want my personal recs, stick with reading 3rd (the statues, is okay), 4th (6-armed snake lady, fave if only because of the monster’s beautiful design and backstory but wished the mc would be someone older), and 5th (swamp-worm monster in the forest, warning, pregnancy/birthing is involved, is okay) story and ignore the rest. 2nd (the monster on the road) is okay, actually, but i hated the monster’s creepy old man design lol rest is just a big fat no to me for various reasons.

anyway….i rambled enough. i think…i might actually keep this character, even if he isn't entirely original and is (almost) literally the genderbent version from the manga. i actually envisioned him with dark-colored skin though. hm, so the setting might even be different! i’ll let yall decide~enjoy!

—tw / tags: gn reader, horror, gore, violence, imprisonment, neglect, implied multiple deaths, amputations, general yandere themes, sfw…ish

—featured character(s): 6-armed snake-god / cursed priest

You can hear the screaming in your ears, the horrible gut-wrenching shrieks heralding the arrival of death. The earth rumbled distantly beneath your feet, striking unspeakable fear in your cold veins, pounding your heart, and your empty stomach twisting with nausea. You shuddered and your voice came out weak, dehydrated, “N-no…”

Raking your throbbing nails down the wood, bloody raw from scratching and pounding on the chained door, you fell to your knees and bowed your head. You’ve warned them, that the demon would not accept the trade—or that the priest wouldn’t retaliate in some way. A choke erupted from your dusty throat at the vision of the priest you cherished so, so much flashed within your mind.

His warming smile and the crinkles in the corners of his eyes, had transformed into something wrathful and malicious. His expression became one that spoke of murder, of dark, malevolent intent, as the hateful village men severed his arms and fed him into the yawning mouth of the snake-god. It wasn’t his cruel fate that had broken your heart and shattered it into pieces though.

The very moment before he disappeared into the slicked depth of the demon’s belly, the priest saw you and wore a horrified face. With blood tears running down his eyes, he interrupted his furious cursing with a soft whisper of your name. You remembered screaming through your tears and fighting against the fisted hands of burly men then, when the snake-god folded its mouth shut and swallowed him whole.

That was the last you’d seen of him and wept his name as the men dragged you from the forest clearing, satisfied that you were too weak to save the one they all feared.  

He shouldn’t have died fearing for you.

As they’d thrown you into the dilapidated shrine, you were numbed with fury and sorrow and shouted that the demon would hunger for their flesh once more, that the priest had cursed them all, when they slammed the door shut and leave you for the dead. Your pleas and cries grew hoarse as you screamed your grief to the sky. There was no reply, only jeers from the village in the distance, as if laughing about your foolishness, that you shouldn’t have fallen in love with the priest.

Their cruelty was beyond your comprehension

You had no idea how long time had passed, there was no light in this rotting shrine, not even a single peek of any warm sunlight or the moon’s soft glow. There was no water, for your throat ran dry and your skin tightened on your bones, and there was no food as your stomach stopped rumbling some time ago. The villagers intended to let you die alone, pitifully and bitterly alone.

It could’ve been days, it could’ve been weeks, when you rose your head from the coarse ground, confused.  Weakly, your hand reached towards the wooden door, and your calloused fingers traced around its edges, feeling along the rough surface and finding the raw marks you left behind, until they settled on a crook. Something familiar electrified the air, the sense of power pressed into your senses. You furrowed your brows—before fear sunk in your nerves once more.

The demon had returned to welt its hunger.

Screams followed and you remained in the shrine, with no more tears to shed. You couldn’t weep for the cruel men and your tongue was too dry for you to utter even a single prayer for the innocent children you once tended to. You bowed your head between your knees, but you were still alive.

You still knew fear, trembling with the desire to live.

Your hands were shaking wildly, but you forced them back into prayer as the screams continued unabated. The walls rattled with thunderous crashes. Louder and louder, until finally, after hours of agony, they stopped. Silence followed.

Only silence and the smell of blood, lingered. And an ominous feeling.

You slowly rose from your hunched position, your gaze fixed on the wooden door. The air had turned heavy with tension, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. Something approached, quietly grinding the pebbles and dirt underfoot as it moved closer and closer.

Somehow, the walls started swaying and the sound of cracking timber reached your ears, rising above the deafening sounds of your heartbeats and your shuddering breathing. You clasped your hands into a prayer once more and begged the gods to answer, to spare you from the belly of the snake-god. Your prayers became desperate begging, for mercy.

As if in response to your prayer, the ceiling creaked and groaned and a low growl emanated from above. Your eyes widened, and you stumbled backward, barely catching yourself on a nearby pillar. The walls rumbled, and cracks began appearing along the floorboards.

Then, the light.

It cut into the pitch-black darkness you’d been trapped in for days and blinded you. Clasping your hands over your eyes, wincing in discomfort as if light burned you, something exploded overhead, shattering the roof tiles and raining tiny chunks onto your head. You flinched at the loud noise, shielding your face and ducking your head between your legs from any further danger.

As the crackling groan quietened, you remained still—half expecting the pain to cut into your skin and long teeth tearing into your brittle flesh. But, silence hangs thickly above into the air. As if in waiting for you to unveil your eyes to the world.

You hesitated, before slowly lifting your head, squinting and blinking against the light. When you adjusted to the brightness, you blinked and saw shadows. Shadows cast by a massive serpentine being coiling amidst the splinters and rocks littering the ground all around you, staring down at you with glowing golden eyes.

Your breath caught in your throat and you staggered forward, your arms reaching above your head, “—! You…you came back…?” Your words broke and dissolved into hiccupping sobs that shook your frail frame.

Long discolored arms distended from the being’s side, wrapping around you in a dangerous embrace. The priest’s pale face buried into the crook between your neck and shoulder, nuzzling into your dirt-caked hair and releasing a deep purr. Its body vibrated and you felt yourself being lifted from the ground. Your arms instinctively snaked themselves tighter around its thin neck, your cheek pressing against its strangely scaled skin, and you squeezed your eyes tightly shut. “Don’t leave me…please don’t leave me again…” You cried, with rivers of tears falling down your cheeks.

Tears you thought were completely dried out.

This was not the priest you remembered, his ashen body protruding from the mouth of the dead-eyed snake-god, his grin jarring with a smile too large for his handsome face, and having a few arms too many stitched to his sides. But as his fiery golden eyes warmed and his touches overly gentle on your skin, you knew. This was the same man you loved, the very man who never ceased to cherish you and always looked for ways to make you smile on bad days. Even after all this time. Even when everything else changed, he remained steadfast, loving, and kind.

—though, only to you, as he held you as if you were the most precious jewel in his world. Despite his loving gaze, he was dressed in the blood and guts of those he’d gleefully slaughtered for their slights against him, glimmering on his eternally long tail in the moonlight. Yes, he gripped your tiny body tighter to his emaciated body, all he’ll ever need is you.

—end

#my writing #monster's writing. 👹 #yandere #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #tetrophilia #exophilia #reader insert #long post #unedited #sfw #concept #gn reader #tw violent death #tw death #tw implied gore #tw imprisonment #horror #snake god #6 armed snake god #cursed priest #[idk what else to tag] #[so pls lmk!!!] #the cursed god #cursed god

[letstevengrantsleep]

Peter Parker smut femreader praise kink and a lot of teasing and pet names , like aunt may let's reader stay over and leaves for work while Peter sneaks back in and caught the reader doing something while wearing his shirt 😌

I can't tell you how excited I was to get this ask it's my FIRST ONE so THANK YOU to whoever left this - and I love the concept so much I really enjoyed writing this so I hope you like it

pairing: peter parker x f!reader

word count: 1,256

warnings: 18+ content, teasing, praise, peter being smug, slight humiliation if you squint, pillow riding

masterlist

May's house has always felt more like a home than anywhere else, so staying round while the house was empty wasn't unusual for you. It had only been an hour or two since she'd left for work and you'd taken it upon yourself to help out the lovely May by doing some cleaning for her, that is until you spilt what looked to be an entire bottle of cleaning product down your top and found yourself having to strip in her kitchen to avoid getting it anywhere else.

Frustrated, you climb the stairs, ruined t-shirt in hand as you make your way into her bedroom to see if you can find anything to cover yourself up with. Trust you to spill something whilst trying to be helpful, absolutely typical.

Rooting through May's wardrobe for clothes is seeming to be an unsuccessful venture and by now you are a little downtrodden, knowing that possibly the only place you were going to find something to wear was the one room you'd specifically told yourself you weren't going to find yourself in: Peter's room.

Don't get it twisted, you had nothing against Peter. The opposite, actually. You really fucking liked him, which is why you'd told yourself that were you to ever find yourself alone in the Parker home you would avoid his room like the plague for fear of... liking what you saw in there. No need to stoke the flames of your schoolgirl crush on the boy. But right now, it seemed there was no other choice.

So here you are, in Peter's bedroom, slipping on a t-shirt that smells like him and finding yourself unable to uproot your feet from their spot on his bedroom floor as you stare, wide-eyed at his bed. God, it's ridiculous, entirely wrong that just being in this room has you feeling so weak in the knees.

It's almost involuntary, the way that you shuffle over to his bed and climb up onto the sheets, pulling one of his pillows between your thighs and under your skirt, just enough to relieve the growing pleasure that's building up between them. You know it's wrong, and you know you shouldn't be in here, but there's something about being surrounded by him that makes your hair stand on end. You don't even register that you've started to rock back and forth on his pillow until you start to feel that familiar build of pressure low in your body, pulling a strangled, breathy moan right out of you. The wetness pooling between your thighs is definitely getting onto the pillow but you're finding it hard to care, brain fogged with unsavoury thoughts.

So caught up in your own head, you barely register the sound of the door opening, and the sharp intake of breath from the figure at the door.

"Y/n?"

Oh fuck.

You can't move quick enough, scrambling off the bed to stand awkwardly by the desk in an effort to look a little less guilty, which clearly works about as well as you thought it would: not at all.

"What are you- is that my shirt?" Peter asks, head cocked to the side.

"Yes, I- well I spilt some cleaning stuff and I- May didn't have anything... I- oh god I'm sorry, I shouldn't be here - I need to go." Your legs feel like jelly you're so embarrassed and all you can do is watch as he makes his way over to the bed, his pillow soaked with your arousal.

"What were you doing on my bed, hm?" He asks, a cheshire cat grin plastered on his face. You can feel your body temperature rising as he plucks the pillow from the mattress and brings it to his face, inhaling the scent of the mess you've made. "All this for me, princess?" Peter teases, a smirk playing on his lips as he slowly takes a step towards you.

"Don't play with me Peter, that's not fair." You look down, entirely red in the face and not willing to look at him. This is humiliating.

"Oh but I really want to play, baby,” he dips his head and crouches to be at your level, looking you dead in the eye as he says “want to show me what you were doing?"

Eyes wide, you shake your head, unwilling to believe that he's being serious. "No, Peter, I get it. I shouldn't have been in here, I-" You're cut off as both of his hands come to the sides of your head. Peter’s shaking his head, smile still on his face.

“That, just then… I can’t tell you the amount of times I’ve thought about what it’d be like to see you just like that on my bed. I bet you're just filthy when you're on your own, am I right princess?” His hands don’t move but you can tell he’s itching to let them roam your body, his self-control hanging by a thread. “Let me see, princess, please?” He smirks.

Peter takes your hand, leading you back to the bed and slowly guiding you to sit back down on the pillow, exactly how you were before. "Go on bunny, show me, yeah?"

Slowly, you start grinding yourself down onto the pillow, eyes shut tight as pressure immediately starts bubbling up again. You can feel Peter's eyes on you as you get close, one of your hands slipping down under your skirt to play with your clit.

"No, no, baby let me do it." He coos, replacing your hand with his own, circling your clit and whispering into your ear. "Just like that princess, good girl."

The moans that escape you when he starts quickening his actions are practically feral, and they pull a cocky smirk and chuckle from Peter. "God baby, listen to yourself," he's way too fucking smug about the noises he was dragging out of you, head buried in the crook of your neck, sucking deep purple marks into the sensitive skin. "Come on baby you're doing so well, want you to cum for me already?" His smirk makes you want to scream as he watches your eyes roll back into your head.

Your body starts shaking, hips bucking harsh against the pillow as he draws your orgasm out of you, whispering praise against your neck as you shiver against him, whimpering and gasping as you cum.

"Aw, princess, so fucking needy," "I could listen to you whimpering for me all day, sounds like heaven, baby." He smirks as you come down from your high, pulling his hand from where it was playing with you and licking it clean of your cum.

"Oh my god." Open mouth, wide-eyes you stare at him, completely enamoured.

"Oh bunny, don't act like you're not still absolutely dripping for it." He smiles down at you, tilting his head to bring you in for a kiss. When his lips come to meet yours it's soft, exactly how you imagined it would be. He's letting you take the lead, guiding you to take what you want from him, allowing you to be the one to take things further. "So glad I caught you in here, fuck, my own little freak just getting herself off for me."

Groaning into your mouth, he pulls you to lie on top of him, smiling into the kiss as you sigh, content.

"Any time you want to sneak into my room and use me instead of that pillow..." he laughs, watching your face go red, "I'm all yours, princess."

#tasm peter x you #tasm!spiderman x you #peter parker x you #tasm peter parker #peter parker smut #tasm smut #peter parker x reader

[bramble-scramble]

I crash into your inbox and fall onto my hands in knees. That last part you mentioned in the Divine AU about Phantom possessing Woodrow. Can you elaborate bc I am very weak for that concept--

MMMM yes, ok!

So... there was some discussion at some point last year about Phantom maybe being able to possess Woodrow (or any other lovers), if they were ok with it of course. He is a ghost after all. It's something I've always wanted to explore more deeply, but it's never really fit in with what I was trying to accomplish in fics to this point, but this seems like the perfect time where it would make sense.

Most gods wouldn't want to appear to mortals very often, unless they were in disguise. Phantom especially. He doesn't think just any common mortal out there deserves to see him in his full glory. So he needs a prophet, someone whose form he can share. While possessing Woodrow, he can do theatre and poetry and oration in the mortal world (because he has gotten bored with his fellow gods, and after finding out the way they've been running Woodrow's life in particular, increasingly angry with them as well).

They would essentially both be in the same body, with one of them in control at a given time, but as mentioned before, the combo of Woodrow's particular unlucky essence and Phantom's divine glory would lead to some unexpected results, some extra-powerful chaos, also leading them to lose their minds at times. For this I'm inspired by legends of the Oracle at Delphi, which by some accounts were possessed by divine forces and went into a frenzy or trance to deliver their prophecies, speaking in nonsense that had to be interpreted by other priests. (Modern scientific explanations for this include natural gaseous fumes that were present in the chamber, to chewing on or inhaling the smoke of the oleander plant.)

The combo of the two of them in there, Phantom in a body he adores, and Woodrow being possessed by one he adores, would also lead them to frenzies of religious ecstasy on its own, just by the sheer force of that much densely concentrated love in one body!

And of course I'd love for anyone to add onto this. I'm not sure if I want to do any serious writing for this AU yet. The ideas are still forming :D

#mario plus rabbids #mario + rabbids #alter answers #phandrow

[meteorstricken]

I've seen it argued that Ultima lacks empathy, and that this is what hinders him from grasping how humanity connects and cares for one another, but I think the nature of this beast is a bit more sinister than that.

Some fairly significant spoilers ahead...

My conclusion is that Ultima is in reality better understood as a dark empath--that is, one who can understand feelings and what motivates people extremely well, but does not share in the experience. Instead, the dark empath will typically use their razor-sharp cognition of others' feelings to manipulate them.

Here's a reference.

This is especially evident in scenes where Ultima appears to the characters as dead loved ones whose memory tends to evoke some intense guilt, longing, grief, and passion. The scene where Clive faces "himself" and falls to his knees before the flame-engulfed figure of Joshua as he last had known him up to that point, filled to brimming with sorrow, is one example. The notorious scene with Barnabas where Ultima role-plays as Benedikta, Hugo, and Barnabas' mother is another.

Ultima's colorful language about humans bolstering one another's usually weak wills by weaving together their consciousness reveals that he understands how a good support system works, and he further spells out the exact nature of those bonds--love, trust--in the aforementioned scene with Barnabas.

(Barnabas himself seems to rely on Ultima as a surrogate social support system, which...sure is a choice, and not one I'm entirely certain he can be wholly blamed for, as the latter end of the game is awash in context clues that he was more or less groomed to that end.)

And thus, Ultima's goal in attempting to cut the threads of consciousness (bonds) supporting Clive is to produce such a profoundly overwhelming state of grief in him that he can't recover from or cope with it, and sees no more reason to keep trying. With his own personal concept of meaning so thoroughly severed--ailing under the sense that even as he breathes, his life is truly over--Clive would theoretically become much more willing to be the 'Mythos' vessel that Ultima wants him to be.

And THAT is...too much...to scheme without any kind of empathy, and because it's too much, it really just underlines the severe extent of the ice-cold contempt Ultima has for humanity. He understands them, but he has always had but one use for making them, and resents the living piss out of them for evolving in a way that throws a wrench into his plans while he was hibernating.

He understands them, but is too entrenched in his own fear, hypocrisy, megalomania, and denial for that to produce any kind of *emotional* empathy--it's 100% cognitive.

As an aside, I have to argue with Clive's late-game insistence that Ultima's never suffered. The combination of fear, control freakishness, and self-isolation Ultima is revealed to have and practice don't typically tend to arise uninspired. It's quite possibly self-inflicted--being a little "g" god who's erroneously convinced himself he's the big "G" and can therefore tell reality how to work will do that--but I do believe it's more likely than not that Ultima has, in their milennia-long life, known a great deal of suffering. All that intricate, surgical understanding of how to produce more angst and suffering from individual to individual has to come from somewhere, and "he created them" doesn't quite make the cut because humanity evolved and awoke absent his guidance.

#Ultima FFXVI #Ultima #FFXVI #Spoilers #FFXVI spoilers #Might be a little pedantic but my brain's been chewing on this one for over a week now.