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risuola · 2 months

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III — GAMBARE, GAMBARE — F. READER x SUKUNA RYOMEN

In the world of crime and blood, Sukuna knows what's off limits. You certainly are one of those things and yet, he's unable to stop thinking of you.

cw: smut, little angst-ish in some places, mafia!au, unprotected sex, a hint of body worshipping, violence, mentions of death, subtle threats, reader discretion is advised — 3,2k words

a/n: third part, thank you so much for support guys! it means the world to me to see how INSANELY big is the tag list now. i literally love y'all~ ❤️ also, just as the first part got inspired by the absolutely menacing quote from our king, it only felt natural to include the famous gambare, gambare (do your best) into this one.

series masterlist

Sukuna prefers to think of himself as one of significant intelligence. Over the years, during which he ruled over the entire criminal milieu, he proved himself to stand atop of anyone who dared to even think of overturning his jurisdiction. All the exceptionally dumb bold ones that once wished to take the position of a boss from his hands had learned the hard way why troubles with Sukuna Ryomen are the least desirable fate of anyone who bears any volume of oil inside their brains.

It’s not only tactical or business intelligence that he’s priding himself with. It’s also the excessive knowledge about general rules of life that allowed him to comfortably push and pull the edges of what’s right and wrong, bending his own reality to his liking. Now it’s intuitive – he just knows where he can put more pressure and where it’s not worth his time. He knows what to bet his money on and what won’t realistically pay back. And most importantly, up until that point, Sukuna thought he can tell with his eyes closed which people he should consider crossing paths with, what men can be useful whilst he aims to reach his targets and which crowds he shouldn’t mess around with – for various reasons, most of which being just business and inconvenience. Same thing concerns women. Ryomen’s position works like a magnet and not a day passes by without girls, often way too young to even think of him, throwing themselves at him, led by fantasies of money and power veiled in the shades of love. If he wished, he could have a different toy every time the night falls and if he’d be just slightly less trained, he might have fallen for the temptation. But he didn’t.

Sukuna learned it from experience, not exactly his own, but of his pawns, that allowing random women in the proximity of their profession usually leads to catastrophes. Girls get persistent, they grow attached, they fall in love sooner than it’s even logical and then they threat, they blackmail; all of which eventually leads to their deaths because dealing with just barely adults that weaponize tears and screams is something he doesn’t allow in his circle. There were no exceptions, any man bearing similar power to Ryomen knows that there’s no place for romance in the world of death and bones, the one that’s stained in red and sorrow. If there happens to be love, it’s always of people from inside the criminal circle, sharing the same set of broken morals. Mafia should never tie itself romantically with civilians. Especially him, the leader, the menace that he is in the world of misdeed, murder and corruption, knew all too well why he should never, ever, even think of someone from outside of his tale as of anything more than one time plaything. That would be irresponsible, straight up naïve. It would be foolish. He knew all of that and not even once he felt any need to engage into any kind of relationship with someone that he deemed non-profitable to his general targets.

Then why the fuck he kept thinking of you? Why he kept seeing you after what was supposed to be a fun one-time fuck? Why did the taste of your lips and the sweet scent of your skin made him so completely addicted that he couldn’t focus on his own business without his mind wandering to the memory of you at least once an hour? He just liked your body, he told himself every time he thought of sending you a message. You were a good lay, it was purely physical. You did, after all, take his dick like you were born solely for this very purpose. He was meeting you only for sex and it was an accident that some of these meetings began with a dinner. All of the gifts he showered you with were just a form of payment for the service. Sukuna knew much better than to let his emotions take control of him.

“What’s on your mind?” Your quiet voice tore Ryomen out of the realm of his self-criticism. The tone that you spoked with was raspy, the testimony of the rough, throat-fucking he had used you for just few hours prior, and yet, it still somehow flowed with cottony softness, so characteristic to you.

“Nothing important,” he replied bluntly, lowering his gaze to where your face was buried into the broad muscle of his chest; your frame completely hidden in his own, much larger and stronger. It was another night you spent in his house, one of those that began with the reservation in one of Tokyo’s best restaurants that served traditional Japanese cuisine. You showed up in a dress made of dark olive silk, long enough to reach your high-heeled sandals and clinging to your shapes as if it was made to be worn over the divinity that was your body. The long, scandalous slit exposed one of your legs and the thin straps accentuated your shoulders and cleavage just perfectly. It was a dress that he himself bought and ordered to be delivered to you in an expensive box before that day. Now that very same gown was laying somewhere, discarded on the floor in the living room of his mansion.

“Sometimes I feel like you’re plotting my death,” you chuckled against his skin, the vibration of the act made him scoff because both him and you knew that the scenario you offered wasn’t exactly falling into the realm of fiction.

“If I were to kill you, I wouldn’t need to plot it. One bullet is all it would take,” he retorted with calm and despite any logic, instead of creating some distance, instead of running away you hummed at his statement and pressed your lips to the center of his chest.

You were way over fearing Sukuna and his world. The few months that you spend seeing him, you came to terms with the heavy weight of tragic fate that was now resting on your shoulders. It couldn’t end well, you shouldn’t tangle yourself with a man such as him, the path of your normal life should never come even close to the blood tainted one he was walking through. You should have never left the club with him and once you did, you should have run out his house the moment he gave you a chance. Instead of that, you stayed. That night, after the time of Ryomen’s pursue and the unfortunate event with Naoya and his gang, soon turned into two. Then just few more and then many more. The one-night stand evolved into continuous romance and though it was strewn with roses and intimacy, it came also with the realization that the more you see him, the less days you have left. There was no way for someone like you, an outsider, the mere civilian with no mafia bonds whatsoever, to be living a long life. Sukuna has enemies, there are people that want the power he holds and will eventually target you. That is, of course, if he doesn’t kill you himself over time – out of boredom or prevention. You knew a lot, he had told you more than he should.

But you loved him. You had seen him do some pretty dark things that would make most people’s eyes water, and in all honesty, it did the same thing to yours, but then, with you, Sukuna was always protective. You loved the way he always seemed to know just what you needed, the way he read you like an open book and knew just what to say or do to put you at ease. You loved the way he made you feel like the only woman in the world, how he made you feel beautiful, even on the days you felt like a total mess. He was a danger, a threat so deadly you shouldn’t play with it, he was a flame that you were bound to burn yourself on, but he was also the only person in the world you felt so safe around. Ever since you met, he had protected you. Even if his words were harsh and his own deeds rough, he never failed to envelop you in a bubble inside of which nothing and no one could hurt you.

“Oh, how much you’d miss me,” a certain sense of amusement hinted in the tone you used as the sheepish smile stretched your lips. Ryomen acted suddenly, grabbing the tiny thing that was your body and pressing your back to the mattress. His fingers wrapped around the frail of your neck; it wouldn’t take much of his strength to snap it and yet, you seemed rather comfortable with his grip secured around your airways. Over the time you managed to grow enough trust to know he won’t hurt you for no reason. Your lover was a man powerful enough, there was no need for seeding fear in you. You were also smart enough to differentiate the real danger from the playful acts. If Sukuna truly wanted you to be scared, you most definitely would be scared shitless.

“You think so?” His tone dropped an octave as he crawled above you; your bare figure now trapped underneath the weight of his presence. He got your legs between his initially, the heavy shaft of his dick rested over your lower belly as he shifted his hand from your throat down to cup your breasts. Your body seemed to never stop attract him, no matter how many times he touched and tasted it. You looked almost angelic in the dim light of that morning; the remnants of sleep still painted over your features and the only things that disturbed the innocence of your picture were the marks he had left on your plush, velvety skin. Red and angry spots that he sucked onto your flesh adorned the beauty of your frame, ultimately making you his own. “Aren’t you a little too confident?”

“I think I’m confident just enough,” you grinned playfully, smoothing over his hands, one staying on top of his palm on your breast and the other reaching up his arm to touch more of him. There was always a hunger lingering inside of you, you were never completely satiated and even if your body was utterly exhausted, you were always happy to take more. Sukuna made you feel ecstatic, like you were really his only one and though it was an illusion that you chose to believe in, it felt good to imagine yourself as his only care.

“And why would I miss you, huh? Aren’t you only a plaything for me?” The question he asked was meant to sound venomous but the sound of his voice betrayed the lighthearted intention. “Do you think I’ll blink twice when discarding you when I get bored of what you can give me?”

“I don’t think you’ll hesitate,” a chuckle once again shook your chest gently as you watched how Sukuna gently pulled your legs up from underneath him and brought one of your ankles to his face. The kisses he smeared along your shin were delicate, completely contrasting with the threatful impression that he was trying to make. He was worshipping you so openly, it made you blush every time. “But even though I know you wouldn’t think twice before killing me, I also think you’d miss me afterwards.”

Once the tender caresses finished, your calves landed on top of his shoulders as he leaned forward, squeezing a breathy moan out of you as he pushed his length into you to the very base of it, sliding on enough spit that it made the entrance easy. Ryomen learned your body through and through, he knew you can take it, he knew you’re always ready and eager to take him. Even if it’s early, even if it hurts. No matter when and where, if he told you to sit on his dick in the middle of a grocery store, you’d probably do just that and ask no questions. And yet, he knew where the boundaries are. Not once he pushed you when you were feeling bad. Not once he used you when you were not ready. The knowledge he now had about you came from observation.

“I think I would miss you,” he purred, his lips so close that they brushed against yours as he spoke. He’s got you in a mating press, filled to the brim with his bricked-up manhood and completely at his mercy. “You are addicting.”

“So keep me safe,” you whispered, cupping his face and chasing the kiss he was yet to give you. The request caught him slightly off guard. The pleading undertone made his heart clench; a feeling that he’s gone without for a decade at least and though he hated the odd sensation in his chest, he also couldn’t deny the warmth that spread throughout his body.

“You are safe with me,” the reassuring lie he followed with a heavy press onto your lips, sealing his words with his own tongue and silently promising you his protection. A vow that he wished to keep and yet, feared he won’t be able to. But now, it wasn’t important. Now you were here, in his bed, on his dick. Now there was just you and him.

Your dainty fingers found their place in his hair as he began thrusting into you. The new slick that combined with the remnants of the night made his movements easy as he dragged his hips back almost all the way out and then pushed back to the point of his pelvis clashing with the back of your thighs and your ass. The pace he set wasn’t fast. It wasn’t anything of what he’d most often pick, there was no violence intertwined into the melody of his hips. That morning it was sensual, it was deep and just rapid enough to stimulate every sweet spot inside of you. Stroke after stroke he was driving you crazy, he just barely started and already you felt yourself dripping. The filthy, wet sounds filled in the early aura and the muffled moans and whimpers accompanied them.

Sukuna allowed your legs to fall lower from where they were pressed against your chest and you hooked them around his hips. The newly earned access to his neck and shoulders you immediately used by allowing your hands to wander in the area, scratching his skin just to force a low purr from his throat. Every sound he made, you swallowed greedily as the kiss continued. Your tongues were dancing to the fiery rhythm of intimacy.

The coil in your stomach tightened all too quickly, you wished it to give you more time to enjoy what he was willing to give you but no matter how much you wanted your body to calm down, he made it absolutely impossible to achieve. Your veins were running with pure ecstasy and lust, the heated flurry that now was your brain was focused only on him, on the rhythm of his hips, on every sweet little lie that he whispered to you. Ryomen knew how to make you weak, he knew just how to angle his body to hit that one spot, the most sensitive one and you could feel him grinning against your lips. He knew you were close. The delicious squeezes that your cunt did on his girth were enough of a hint to notice and it gave him a sense of pride to be able to make you come undone so easily.

“Just few moments more,” he murmured and you nodded eagerly. Tears prickled in your eyes, gathering along your lash lines like crystals that he wished to kiss away, but was now too engulfed in the taste of your lips to part. His movements got quicker, just a little heavier as he began slamming into you with more force than at the beginning. Mornings tend to rid Sukuna from the ability to last – the ones that he spends with you in his arms, with your naked body pressed against his, unknowingly shifting against his dick for hours. That makes him unable to keep his composure for too long. Sometimes he feels like you strip him of all qualities that he once prided himself in, leaving him bare only to your eyes, with only the most primal needs exposed and he felt good with that kind of freedom.

“…don’t stop, oh god, ‘kuna~”, you were whimpering, arching your back underneath him and squeezing your little hands over his shoulders. “I can’t, I—”

“Oh, you can. Do your best,” Sukuna chuckled, teasing you with such impossible tasks. Your head fell back, your thighs were trembling against his sides and he could tell he’s losing you. You were far too deep in the realm of desire to hear his words; all of your world now came down to what you felt, to how you felt him and Sukuna loved your blissed out state. He loved the way he was the one to push you so far over the edge that you wouldn’t notice if the world was ending. But what he loved above that, was how you were gripping onto him; holding him tightly, pulling him closer as if you never wanted him to move away, as if he was everything you needed. And he was.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he muttered against your throat, painting the skin over there with wet trails of kisses and new, red marks – the ones gentle enough to fade in a matter of hours. You moaned something incoherent. “Cum for me,” he allowed, not even sure if you’re registering his words. It had to be unconscious; the way your brain caught his voice between the blurry lines of everything else.

Your climax hit you like a rock; his name was slipping over your tongue continuously, so sweet and breathless that Sukuna was once again reassured that he never wants to hear anyone else calling him. Your walls were squeezing his throbbing length, he twitched and flexed inside you, groaning with satisfaction and before he allowed himself to come, he pushed himself up. As he sat on his heels, he pulled you with him; your body now on top of him and he used his hands to guide your hips up and down his dick. You wrapped yourself around him, finding a safe space for your face right where his neck connects with his muscular shoulder and all he needed to feel the bliss was the sensation of your teeth sinking into his skin.

White seed painted your insides as he shot it as deeply as he could reach with you on top of him. Few more moves, few more groans and you could feel him relax. His strong arms snaked around your waist as he shifted slightly to lean against the headboard, straightening his legs in front of him. You stayed pressed against his chest, catching your breath and feeling the tension leaving your body as the morning went by. And as Sukuna held you so close to his heart, he couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that it felt so right and that made the question bloom inside his brain. Was it still strictly physical? Was it ever only about sex?

» PART FOUR

taglist: @yihona-san06 , @tiredscavengerskeleton , @son4aras , @vixorell , @cecesharktales , @isleqt , @thickmacandcheese, @captainchrisstan, @bbylime, @sad-darksoul, @shartnart1, @kiki17483, @grimreaqueer, @phoenix-eclipses, @fan-of-encouragement, @valleydoll, @aleeeeeeees-stuff, @marifujioka, @going-to-californiaxx, @just-pure-trash, @edenofeve, @impulsivethoughtsat2am, @thigh-o-saur, @heyohalie, @matchat3a, @bubblearts, @littlemisspropaganda, @aconstructofamind, @lawislife18, @rzcnlb, @sunukissed

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kindacreepy-kindaugly · 2 years

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So disoriented......think I have most of the memories up til I became separate but the last few weeks are...a bit of a blur. Can't even tell if it's me feelin so low or if I'm blendin w/ someone else.

#not havin a name prolly isn't helpin but how tf would i even go about thinking of one?#not somethin i've needed to worry about before #......no i don't think i've been here before all my memories are from back home #tryin to get my bearings.....bein in charge of our own money is gonna take some gettin used to #it's been a veeeery long time #feels kinda illegal and not in the fun way more like i'm gonna get caught n slapped all the way back to hell for this #but i mean he would've said somethin already if he had any better suggestions so i guess we're cool #don't need to work anymore that's also cool #val's mean as ever n the jury's still divided on if his bein here at all is good or bad #same goes for him bein around more/havin more time for us #and i'm just here to behave i guess? n hold onto some emotions i'd really rather not #so that's bullshit but i guess i can do that for him.....#val better fuckin appreciate it though he knows not bein a bitch does NOT come naturally for me #yea i still got the attitude i'm just more motivated to keep it in check #still not sure what the key difference between me n silk is since there's gotta be one for me to even be here #i guess i'm less......delusional #oh n he holds some of doll's feelings so i guess i'm kinda the same but different...subsubsystem #too many goddamn layers #i don't have a tag yet so can't sign this rip #spdrvent

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killerpancakeburger · 5 months

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Outpace the dawn

Gif by @silverformymonsters

Summary: BG3 Spawn ending Fix It fic! Because I refuse to let him deal with the sunlight alone.

Pairing: Astarion x Reader

Warnings/tags: SPOILERS obvsly, angst/comfort, non canon compliant.

Words count: 936 words.

A/N: It should be Gender Neutral, but if I fcked up since I tend to write from my pov, you can tell me and I'll correct it.

Yes the title is from that Hozier song. It got me thinking how Astarion would need to outpace the dawn from now on.

Astarion’s voice cut through the silence that followed your last battle, as your little group was gathering on a pontoon.

“So, what’s next for us?”

You had been thinking about what was to come for a while, actually. Probably longer than any of your companions have. Some might argue that it wasn’t the time for that, that you should have been completely focused on defeating the Netherbrain. But you couldn’t help it; it was a matter of life and death - Astarion’s life and death. Or rather, undeath and death. Since you’ve known that the brain was within reach, it had become an omnipresent apprehension in your mind.

The slaughter of the brain sounded the death knell of the tadpoles, and their disappearance inevitably meant that Astarion’s resistance to the sun would vanish like it never existed. Like nature rightfully reasserting itself by getting rid of this aberration that had been a vampire walking in the sun in the first place.

This knowledge has been haunting you for days and nights now. It was your first thought when you woke up and your last when you fell asleep. A knot of dread had settled inside your stomach, making it hard to fall asleep and to interact normally with the source of your worries. And right now, following Astarion’s question, the knot in your guts got even tighter, even more painful.

At any moment, any second from now on, your vampire lover would catch fire as surely as straw in the summer.

It was fine. You planned. You prepared for this. You procured a large, thick, hooded coat that was guaranteed to block the sunrays. It was even imbued with magic that made it impossible to tear, pierce, or rip in any way. It hadn’t been easy to acquire, but Astarion didn’t need to know that.

You were on the lookout for any sign of burning, wound as tightly as a spring while still trying to appear normal to the others.

“The world is our oyster, and she has many pearls we can choose from.” claimed Astarion, blissfully unaware of his fate.

He illustrated his remarks by spreading his arms far apart with vigor. The genuine excitement, the happiness in his voice almost made you sick to your stomach. Astarion’s displays of authentic joy were few and far in between, and this one would end as soon as it started. As fast as a vampire spawn left in the sun, as a pile of ashes on the ground.

You could barely bear to look at him. You didn’t have the heart to remind him of his imminent doom. He obviously had forgotten about it for the time being, and while the cruel reality was taking up almost all the space in your brain, like blaring alarms, you’d be damned if you took away from him his last, his only instants of light and warmth, of complete freedom, by reminding him. No Cazador, no tadpole, no mind control, no deadly sunlight, no slave and no master. Just an immense ocean of liberty, intoxicating, vertiginous.

“I honestly don’t mind what we do, once we get to- Ow!”

You instantly straightened up at the sound, like a wild animal who picked up the sound of an upcoming danger. For a terrible second, there was a twisted part of you who felt relieved. Finally, your gnawing, agonizing wait was coming to an end. Then, swiftly, the relief disappeared, flooded with your concern for Astarion.

“What the- Oh no. Oh Gods.”

Already his hands were fuming, his beautiful pale face sprinkled with silververy cracks like delicate porcelain. He had always looked more like a piece of art than a living being after all. The frantic panic in his voice was like a punch to the chest. In all your battles and struggles together, you had never seen him so horrified. Even against Cazador. Even a True Vampire had to yield to the Sun.

He threw you a harrowing look, like he was bidding you goodbye before bolting. As if you were going to leave him to deal with this alone. Already you were rushing towards him, the life-saving coat in hands. You wrapped it around him as fast as your hands would allow, put the hood on, and gently grabbed him by the shoulder, turning him so his covered back would take the blunt of the light.

“There we go, you explained softly. This will block the sun.”

“You’ve got this, and I’ve got you.” you added, mirroring his own words.

You were smiling sadly, trying to be supportive, to not add to his burden. The look in his eyes was hard to describe, an intense blend of heartbreak, vulnerability, and gratefulness.

“Well… It was… it was nice while it lasted.” he managed to articulate, his voice breaking like he was about to cry.

You could feel your heart break in response like an echo.

The magic sunproof coat was in no way a solution. Barely a bandage on a sinking ship. You had to get out of the sun, quickly.

“Come on, love. Let’s get you some shadow, uh?”

Your encouraging smile was as fragile as a spiderweb. You could feel it teetering on the edge of an abyss.

Astarion simply nodded, like he didn’t trust his voice anymore. It was fine. He was already expressing so much through his gaze.

You put your hand on the small of his back, barely applying any pressure, threw a telling look over your shoulder at your other companions, and you both started your search for protective darkness between the walls of Baldur’s Gate.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion fanfic #fanfic #fic #bg3 fanfiction #yes i know i said i was doing rolan - lol - but i already written half of this one so i might as well finish it right?

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ossifer-bones · 6 months

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the paul poll compelled me to just quickly write up my little opinion piece on paul and necromancy in the tlt verse bcs tags are a pain in the ass to elaborate on my opinion in: paul horrifies me. i think that a lot of people read palamedes' interpretation of lyctorhood as being some sort of objective truth and that there is a right way to do lyctorhood and paul is it, but i just don't agree with that; i think in a series rife with unreliable narrators, palamedes' views on lyctorhood should be considered as subjective as any other person's.

“Can one person even be two people? I feel like I’ve only got enough room inside for me, and sometimes like that room’s not even enough.” “Lyctors can,” said Palamedes, “or at least—they thought they could; in fact all they became were half-dead cannibals. I think a true Lyctorhood is a mutual death … a gravitational singularity creating something new. A true Grand Lysis, rather than the Petty Lysis of the megatheorem [...]

what he says here about lysis is in response to nona asking if one person can be two people, and thus it is a very loaded statement when coming from someone heralding from a society where the extreme co-dependence of the fundamentally unequal necro/cav bond is encouraged, especially considering camilla and palamedes are called out by others from that same society as being an exemplary case of co-dependence in that department!

camilla and palamedes are arguably more equal than any other cav/necro pair in series, in part due to that co-dependence, but we even see in NtN that cam does stuff that undercuts that equality (telling pyrrha to lie to palamedes, 'don't tell him i was weak'). and that equality, that love, is shown to be thought of as coming at the cost of freedom: when palamedes says, “I cannot bear the thought of using you.”—camilla responds, “Love and freedom don’t coexist, Warden.”

in the end, every permutation of the necro and cav pairing is irrevocably descended from john + alecto's example and while i think beauty can be found in some of them, they all suffer from the same fundamental imbalance that bond hinges on; nonconformity abates it, but abolishment is required for real freedom from it. the so-called indelible sin of lyctorhood is just an echo of the original sin john committed.

If there was one thing Gideon knew about necromancers, it was that they needed power. Thanergy—death juice—was abundant wherever things had died or were dying. Deep space was a necro’s nightmare, because nothing had ever been alive out there, so there were no big puddles of death lying around for Harrow and her ilk to suck up with a straw.

necromancy necessitates consumption, taking by its very nature: death, especially violent death, is what fuels it—infants producing more thanergy on death is literally a noted phenomena! paul's birth, while it could be seen as triumphant in the sense of it being an act of creation, is literally identified by palamedes himself as a mutual death, death being required to fuel it the same as any other necromantic working. i don't want to say 'necromancy is fundamentally evil' but uh... it is irrevocably tied into john's conception of human nature: "This is the problem, the incorporation, this is the hardest part … It’s the human instinct, to take."

something i always point out about camilla and palamedes' grand lysis is theparallel with gideon and harrow's incomplete petty lysis: both come about as a result of a fully-realised lyctor (ianthe, cytherea) having cornered the pair, resulting in both being threatened with imminent death (camilla critically injured and palamedes facing expulsion from naberius when ianthe re-emerges; harrow necromantically spent and gideon having suffered multiple injuries, both going to die when cytherea breaks through the bone dome). paul's birth only happened as a direct result of the continuation of the lyctoral cycle of violence, with ianthe in cytherea's position; per palamedes, “I am not saying this was our inevitable end … I am saying we have found the best and truest and kindest thing we can do in this moment.”

paul may be the best and truest and kindest thing cam and pal could've done in that moment, but that moment should've never came to pass: the codependency instilled into them through their society, the violence that put them in that position, and the consumptive necromancy that made paul possible. paul is horrifying because they are the most hopeful and kind thing, and they are the product of two people, one sans his own body, undergoing mutual death to fuel their birth.

they're the truest response to one flesh, one end: an oath purportedly coined by cristabel and alfred, who compelled their necromancers to ascend via a suicide pact.

valancy says one flesh one end sounds like instructions for a sex toy. can’t stop thinking about that so can someone stop cris and alfred before the sex toy phrase catches on, thanks.

did the sex toy phrase really need a response?

#the locked tomb #nona the ninth spoilers

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fairysluna · 1 year

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hi! not sure if you’re receiving request rn but if u are would u do a one shot cregan x targ wife? basically domestic stuff with their kids who’s half wolf and dragon and all the fluff <33 i love ur writing style sm!! don’t forget to take care of urself :)

AMONG DRAGONS AND WOLVES

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Targ!Reader.

Summary: Once the time has arrived for your child's dragon egg to hatch, things don't go as planned, and Cregan simply cannot stand the sight of his son's saddened eyes.

Tags/TW: fluff, mentions of pregnancy, cregan being a dilf, and just that I think, it's pure fluff tbh.

Author's Note: THANK U for requesting this, I've been waiting to write something like this since I wrote my first Cregan one shot. Just softie Cregan for you, anon, hope you like it!!🤍

Word Count: 2.0k

"What are you doing here?" He asked, visibly worried as he stood up from the snow leaving the two boys behind, "You should be resting…"

A small chuckle left you as he placed his big hand on top of your swollen belly, you looked down at it for a few seconds before looking up to his face. The love in his eyes was visibly obvious as you felt, once again, bewitched by his deep brown stare. The same butterflies that were present the day of your wedding, were flying in your stomach as you felt his loving touch on you. So protective and caring.

"It's time for Rickon to go to his classes with the Maester," you informed. The older child looked at you with puppy eyes, begging for you to not send him away from his little brother, "go on, pup, he's waiting for you… you can play with Aelor after you've finished."

The brown haired boy stood up from the snow and walked half-hearted towards the castle. Once he passed right beside you, you stopped him to kiss him softly on his forehead before letting him go. As a response, he wrinkled his nose and left obediently. Cregan saw the tender scene with a smile on his face,

"He was comforting his brother," Cregan said, "Aelor needed his company."

"We've talked about this, this is usual, this happens to everyone… My brother, Aemond, went through the same thing and now he rides Vhagar," you shrugged.

"He's ten, he doesn't understand it, he feels unworthy," he turned around to look at him.

Aelor Stark, a beautiful brown haired boy who carries his mother's eyes. The first born son product of your love for Cregan. He was bigger than the other children of his age, and his only friends were his half-brother, Rickon, and his younger sister of five, Lysara.

And while Lysara's egg already hatched, Aelor's hasn't been so lucky to say the same. The poor boy spent the prior night crying on your lap as Cregan looked at you with pure distress in his eyes, knowing that he wasn't able to do anything that could cheer his son up. That same night, you told Aelor that he could claim a dragon of his own once he was old enough… but, as your husband said, his sadness was not only because he didn't have a dragon yet, he felt sad because he felt as if he was unworthy of having one.

"I can't bear to look at his saddened eyes," Cregan said, "he has your eyes, everytime i see sadness in them is as if I'm seeing sadness in yours. I can't allow my family to be miserable."

"We're not, my love," you quickly answered, placing your hand on his cheek, "you have given us nothing but pure happiness. What is happening is beyond our control, is what nature desires."

"We need to do something," he spoke sternly, "I will not sit back and see our son suffer."

You couldn’t help but smile genuinely at his sweet words.

"There's nothing left to do, we just need to wait and take him to King's Landing so he can claim an already hatched dragon… there are plenty of them."

"Is it my fault?" Cregan asked suddenly with a soft voice. You quickly frown, visibly confused.

"Your fault?"

"What if my- my genes are too strong and his Valyrian blood is not working… he already has brown hair, and-"

A chuckle was heard as you stood on your tiptoes to silent him with a soft kiss. He immediately grabbed your waist as he sighed once you captured his lips in a touch that made him forget about everything for just a couple of seconds. That was the power you had on him.

Once you pulled back, Cregan's eyes slowly fluttered open until his eyes met yours. He took a deep breath and you smiled,

"This is not your fault," you said slowly, trying to make him understand, "you're a wise man, husband, it surprises me that you were able to think such a foolish thing."

"I apologize," he muttered, a bit embarrassed.

"No need, my love," you softly shook your head and sighed before pecking his lips, "now, Lysa is asking for her father, she said you promised her to help her with her Valyrian classes."

Cregan smiled embarrassed, a soft tone of pink covered his cheeks as he looked down at the snow beneath his thick boots. You bit your own bottom lip as you let out a breathy laugh, seeing your husband being so flustered was a bit amusing for you.

Especially because you knew you were the only one who was able to make him feel that way.

"She told you, she betrayed our pact,'' he said between soft chuckles.

"I told you it wasn't necessary…"

"I want to be able to teach them, my love. They're my children too, I need to be part of their culture."

"That's very kind of you," your arms wrapped around his waist as you kiss him again.

"You won't be able to gossip about me in another language," he joked between pecks.

"I would never gossip about you, you fool," you laughed.

Cregan placed his hands on your face and took a look at your features for a long time. He would always do that; hold your face between his big hands and stare at your beauty for a few seconds, admiring every single bit of you. He sighed, completely enamored by the view in front of him, and then he gently rubbed his nose against yours, closing his eyes but still being able to perceive your small smile.

"You're the most beautiful woman in the world, my love," he whispers, pressing his forehead in yours, "I love you more than words can tell, my princess."

Your heart, filled with joy, skipped a beat as you heard that nickname that he now uses only in intimate moments like this, for he wanted to let you know how you had all the control of him. You opened your eyes, looking at those gleaming dark eyes that you loved so dearly.

Those tiny little moments made you think about how lucky you were.

Later at night, when the crackling sound of the fireplace was the only thing you were able to hear, you were laying in bed with Aelor under one arm and Lysara kissing and caressing your belly as she spoke to her new sibling growing inside of you. You looked at the scene, with tender eyes and a giant smile decorating your face.

"Sagon gīda, zaldrītsos," Be careful, little dragon, you told her gently, caressing her curly brown hair, "Your little brother or sister is too small yet, so you have to be careful, okay?"

"I hope is a girl…" Aelor whispered on your side. You turned to look at him, asking him to explain his answer, "maybe she'll be able to have a dragon if she's a girl like Lysa."

You pressed your lips in a thin line as you cupped your son's face and caressed his chubby cheeks. A soft kiss was left on his forehead as you shook your head,

"Listen to me, zoklītsos." Little wolf, you called him, "gender has nothing to do with it, and you will have a dragon."

"But-"

"In a few months we'll visit your grandmother, and once we're in the capital we'll go to the Dragon Keep, where you will choose a dragon to claim," you spoke softly, but sternly at the same time, "so, just be patient and wait."

"I'm sorry, muña," he said before he cuddles under your arm once again.

"No need to-"

Your words were interrupted as the door suddenly opened with a deafening sound as it smacked against the wall. Your first instinct was to grab Lysara and Aelor, and place them behind you as you grab your small dagger from under your pillow.

However, your body relaxed once you saw Rickon entering the room with a suspicious big smile and laughing as he covered his mouth. You took a deep breath and you hid the dagger under the pillow once again.

"Rickon, darling, you scared me," you said, scolding him but keeping your voice as soft as you could, "what is it that has you so cheerfully laughing, huh?"

"We have a surprise for Aelor!" He said happily.

"We?" You asked.

Cregan walked inside the room as soon as those words left your mouth, and your eyes widened as you looked at the half grown direwolf between his arms. It looked quite small in them.

Your husband had the same smile as the one his first child had, two pairs of eyes gleaming with excitement as they looked at your eldest son. Soon you realized what was going on, and a horror look was seen in your face as you grabbed Lysara and held her close to your body.

"Absolutely not!" You said, trying to grab Aelor too but he already stood up from the bed, "Aelor!" You scolded him.

"What is this?!" The small child asked as he caressed the soft fur of the wolf.

"Your new pet, my boy," Cregan said, kneeling so Aelor was at the same height as the animal.

"Cregan?" You asked, confused and astonished, "mind to explain what is the meaning of this?"

You stood up from the bed, your daughter hanging from your arms as you walked back, far from the animal that started to move its ears each time Aelor would touch its belly.

Cregan left the wolf on the floor and walked towards you, removing the girl from your arms and holding her in his instead.

"Be careful, my love," he warned you, "you cannot strain yourself, not with our little pup growing inside you."

"Cregan, what is this?" You asked again, yelping as the wolf started to howl.

He laughed softly, "my love, you ride a dragon, how can you be scared of a wolf?"

"I'm a Targaryen, we bond with our dragons, they would never harm us."

"Starks bond with direwolves, love…" he explained softly, "Look at them, they already love each other and they've just met."

You looked at your son as the wolf licked his cheek and he laughed gleefully. Rickon was looking at them with excitement, for now he had another thing in common with his little brother. Your heart lighted up after seeing Aelor smiling like that after days of only seeing saddened eyes on him. That mere thought softened your heart, and made you sigh.

"Cregan…"

"Listen, I will take care of everything, okay?" He said, grabbing your hand and kissing it gently, "And I assure you, my love, nothing will happen to you because I will always be here to protect you."

"Whose idea was to get this… thing?"

"Uh… mine," he muttered, smiling shyly, "I told you I had to do something about it, I can't bear to see my family being miserable."

Your haze softened at his words; you were Cregan's weakness but he was certainly yours too. The only one that can make you bend.

"Alright, he can keep his pet, but it will stay away from me," you warned, "I don't want that thing being close to me, I feel that it will chew my face off."

Cregan only laughed at your words before kissing your lips.

Aelor stood up from the floor and ran towards Cregan, hugging him tightly as he cheerfully yelled, "thank you, kepa! thank you!"

You would've looked at the tender scene being displayed in front of you, but your eyes were fixed on the animal sitting on the carpet. The wolf made eye contact with you, and tilted its head as it sighed. With your lips pressed in a thin line, you heard at your daughter saying,

"Can I have one too, kepa?"

With widened eyes you looked at your daughter, seeing how her eyes shone with the sight of the direwolf just a few meters away from you.

"Oh, Gods…" you muttered, caressing your belly.

You started to beg for the next one to claim a dragon instead of a frightening wolf.

#request #cregan stark fanfic #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x you #cregan stark #cregan stark x y/n #cregan stark x targ!reader #cregan stark fluff #fluff #fanfic #hotd x reader #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #house stark #house targaryen #house of the dragon #targ!reader

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kairiscorner · 8 months

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shut up cus cuddles w miguel would be so comforting like his muscles r so squishy and i feel like his body is naturally warm too as soon as he wraps his beefy arms around our body we snoozin fr 😴😴

omg anon, you beat me to it, i wanted to follow this up with the 'kissing miggy' imagine, BUT SURE HEHEHE

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

cuddling with miggy. – miguel o'hara x reader imagine

holding you in his tight embrace, miguel mumbles under his breath about how warm you feel, how soft you are underneath his tougher grasp. he sighs at the lovely feeling of your plush skin against his, he doesn't want this moment to pass you two by, so his grasp on you tightens just a little. that was always the thing about miguel, he can never bear to let you go once he's got you in his arms. lying down with you, wrapping his arms around you and just feeling your presence next to him is too comforting, too cathartic for him, that he doesn't even know what to say or do about it other than babble about how lovely you feel, look, and just hug you closer to him.

he can do nothing but run his hands over the curves and grooves of your body, sigh as his palms explore territory that's been explored almost a million times over–but never getting sick of you and your absolutely perfect body, the perfect, perfect you he fell for and keeps falling hard for. he loves when you reciprocate his touch, though–he loves feeling your fingers on his hands, reinforcing his touch and grip on you as you ease into his big hands and let him hold you close to him.

you love getting sandwiched in between his big, bulging biceps–they always feel so nice to be in between in, you love how the clench and flex when he's holding you close, when he's embracing you tightly like you're all he's clinging on to. there's no undertones of anything malicious or dirty in his touch, there's only pure love, adoration, and devotion for you and all of you. from the top of your head down to the tips of your toes, you're all he's got his eyes set on, you're all he wants to hold and admire. he mutters a, "don't you leave me, please, nena... can't go on without you..."

he's always so sappy and sentimental when he gets like that, and you love it–you love this vulnerable side of him that gets all emotional and clingy–and the way you curl up into his touch just makes the two of you melt. you sleep in his arms, clinging on to his neck, broad shoulders, or muscular arms, too–and just lay there with miguel as he wishes you sweet dreams, hoping you won't forget his touch, even as time goes by and you two grow old together; that you'll remember how he holds you and clings on to you so dearly.

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

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bamdelune · 8 months

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utterly, unbelieveably in love pt. 1 ░ scara x reader modern!au ★ mini series

summary ➜ he has six months to win you over. the famed scaramouche of tevyat unviersity wants the honor of owning a place in your heart. you want to see how far his feelings hold true.

genres/tags ➜ fluff, scara is genuinely head over heels for you, fem!reader, scara is your brother's best friend, courting, new writing style.

Your brother bringing home friends from university wasn't a surprising occurence. He'd do it all the time. The only thing surprising was how a real human being could bear to even form a friendship to someone akin to a persistent little fly that buzzes in the shell of your ear.

This time, the person who welcomed himself through the entrance of your home was none other than the flamboyant Scaramouche. Academic by nature, with ladies and gentlemen swooning over him at every stride of his feet. Sure, a little too confident over the scale but still charming nonetheless. Your brother was on the popular side of the school tier, perhaps it was a matchmade in heaven.

"I'm home." He would say, after the lock clicks free. You were hunched over a laptop on the couch, with a screen that displayed two tabs as you accomplished your essay due in about... seven hours? A hum of acknowledgement slips past your lips, eyes still trained on the bright screen in front of you, too busy to even notice the fact that he brought a new friend today but it was a sight of familiar indigo streaks of hair.

For the next few times, Scaramouche would become a frequent visitor at your apartment and you had grown accustomed to the routine. You would be studying by the time the both of them get to the apartment, you'd acknowledge them, and Scaramouche would leave an hour and thirty minutes later. But today was a different case.

Your brother, being the trustful guy that he is, apparently gave Scara his key to the apartment telling him to go ahead and use it as he did some short errands.

Now here you were sitting in silence with the ever-charming boy from uni, with his eyes shooting glances he thought was subtle enough for you not to notice.

"You've been staring." You begin, your focus shifting from your laptop to his direction, although not directly into his eyes.

He hums, "I'd say the same about you."

Well, shit. Cover blown, does a life in the countryside tickle your fancy in any way?

Heat brushes your features but you are quick to school them.

"I'm curious as to how my brother thought this whole thing through."

Scara tilts his head, eyebrows furrowing in question. "Thought what through?"

"You. Giving you the actual key to our apartment. He's never done that so there's something different about you." Your eyes squint at him suspiciously, hands reaching for the top of your laptop and it shuts it closed. "Why are you here?"

"You're pretty cocky if you think I'm here for you." Scara blurts out in response. You raise an eyebrow at him.

"I never said that though?"

His face flushes a shade of pink and he takes a big interest in the crown moldings of your ceiling.

"You're weird." You mutter.

"Right back at you."

You scoff at his reply, albeit a small tug on your lips curls them upward. Just then the knob of the front door turns clockwise. You send Scara a 'you didn't lock the door?' type of look and he merely shrugs as your brother comes inside.

"I'm home— oh, you really did use the key." Your brother says, settling his belongings down on the marble counter. You swear you caught a small smirk playing on his lips but he was far too quick at concealing it.

From now onwards, Scaramouche would become a reoccuring character in your life. How long will it take for you to fall into the wraps of his charms?

#bamdelune #genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #bamdelune's bookstore #genshin smau #genshin impact x reader #wanderer x reader #wanderer #wanderer x y/n #wanderer x female reader #scara x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x you #kunikuzushi x reader #kunikuzushi #scaramouche

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verus-veritas · 9 months

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Out of the Woods

Another hot story by @bodyswapper that seemed to have been removed recently. Once again I couldn’t help myself and remade the story, with my own twists and ending! Also, featuring the incredibly hot “Seattle Dad”, which you should definitely check out!

My best friend Chris and his family were preparing for their two-weeks getaway at the lake cabin. His parents said that I would not be able to come so Chris and I were bummed. However, a day before the trip Chris came up with an idea to get me to tag along. When Chris presented me with using an ancient body swap spell he had stumbled upon I was skeptical at first, but I eventually decided to agree. I had secretly always found his father quite handsome, so if it actually worked it would be very interesting being in his Dad's burly mature body.

The day arrived, and Chris and his father headed out to the cabin first. I was so nervous and waited for the text for Chris to let me know he was going to use the spell. I got a notification from Chris and locked myself in my room to get ready. I was waiting for something to happen and instantly a surge of energy rippled me, and my soul jolted forward.

I finally snapped to and felt my body lurch upright while taking a lot of force to lift myself up. I was now inhabiting the body of Chris's handsome father. I locked eyes with Chris through my new deeper blue eyes.

"Whoa, this is insane," Chris exclaimed, staring at me, who now occupied his father's bigger, flabbier, and hairy body. "What's it like? How does it feel being in my dad's body?"

I was trying to find my bearings, and blinked a few times before responding. "It's...different, man" I paused, noticing the gravelyness of my voice. "This body feels more experienced, like it has seen a lot in life. And the hair? Well' I can feel the breeze on the stubble" I chuckled, rubbing my thick hands across my sweaty forehead.

We took a moment to absorb the nature of their situation before cracking open a few drinks and settling into the comforts of the lake cabin. The initial shock transformed into laughter and camaraderie as I began to relax in my new frame.

Hours passed, filled with laughter, shared stories, and the simple joy of being together. Chris kept commenting that my mannerisms became more similar to his fathers, and I was feeling it as well. It just felt so damn comfortable being in his father's body and leaning into that persona.

However, our enjoyment came to an abrupt halt when Chris's Dad's phone rang. We shared a scared glance, and I was feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness. I picked up the phone, answering it in Chris's Dad's serious tone, and realized it was Chris's Mom, or rather my ex-wife. At that moment, I had to embody the role of Chris's father, pretending to be Chris's Dad. To my surprise, I found himself slipping into the role effortlessly, and putting on a show. I even began to feel the emotion of Chris's Dad as I talked and said I miss you to his little sisters, or my daughters. They lived with their mom, so the summer getaway was the only opportunity for us to meet, Chris had explained earlier.

I hung up the phone and had the largest smile on my face. I kept rubbing my beard, enjoying the scruffiness and coarseness of it. "I did it, man! I pulled it off! Your mom didn't suspect a thing. I never knew I had it in me."

Chris beamed back, impressed by my performance. "Who knew you were gonna be able to pull it off this well,” Chris chuckled. “It's like you've been my dad all along.” When he said that my cock grew firm, as I truly began to feel like I am his father. Now, I was getting excited for the rest of the family to come up and see how well I could keep up with the charade of being Chris's father.

I was also dying to find a time to sneak off to the bathroom to feel down my new larger flesh, but I didn't want to raise suspicion to Chris on what I was doing. I was gonna wait till we went to bed and then explore his Father's form a little more closely.

- Several Days Later -

It had been a few days since Chris used the spell to swap me into his Dad’s body. At first, it was really strange walking around in this much older, taller, and heavier body, but I quickly got the gist of it. Although I was still nervous when the rest of the family came and I had to pretend to be Chris’s father. There were some obvious fumbling and embarrassing moments at first, but by the end of the evening no one seemed to mind or took notice. It was almost like I had somehow gone a quick-course on how to truly embody his father. It certainly helped that Chris helped me out here and there, as he gave me small hints and showed me recordings of how his dad normally acted whenever we were alone.

I also noticed that every day that passed I seemed to lean more and more into the persona of Chris’s Dad. I even developed his gait, unconsciously let out his hearty chuckles, and found myself more interested in fishing. At some points even Chris seemed unable to differentiate me from his father, as evident by one morning when I sat in the kitchen drinking my morning coffee and reading the newspaper when Chris came down and started eating his breakfast completely ignoring me.

When I asked him what we were doing today, he answered me with the same snappy attitude he always gave his dad for annoying him. It took a few minutes of me staring at him amusingly before I saw the panic in his eyes as he realized what he had done. “Thank god it’s only a few more days…” He had quickly tried to recover himself, though I could tell there was some slight worry left in his voice.

It wasn’t until the first evening when everyone had gone to sleep in their separate bedrooms that I fully had a chance to explore my new self. I was so thankful that Chris’s parents had divorced a few years back and slept in separate rooms, which gave me the master bedroom all to myself.

It was strange… yet exhilarating as I stood in front of the full-body mirror and inspected the reflection of Chris’s Father.

I started exploring his weary yet handsome face, his thick beefy arms, and his hairy chest, as some quiet moans escaped my lips. I found myself running his big hands across the pelt on his chest, brushing past the bush on his cheeks, and ending my journey on the thin layer of hair on his head. The sight of Chris’s shirtless furry dad being so mesmerized by himself somehow made me incredibly hard, so I quickly unbuckled the belt and let the worn jeans slip onto the floor. I gasped out in delightful shock as the thick and massive cock bounced up and down, while a few drops of precum had already begun to leak out.

Something changed within me at that moment, something deep inside telling me this was all I ever wanted. I knew then - I was in love with this body, and the act of embodying Chris’s Father.

I didn’t sleep one second that night, as I found myself on the king-sized bed exploring, fondling, and worshiping the hairy, big body that belonged to Chris’s father. I had to sit out the hunting trip the morning after because of severe back pain, which was most likely caused by all the arching from the several orgasms I had during the night…

Every single night before sleep I would find myself standing in front of the bedroom mirror, slowly take off all my clothes, and stare excitedly at the burly dad bod. I would slowly caress the thick muscles, squeeze the fat around the stomach, and grip the hardened cock firmly. The jerking always began slow and passionately, but ended in a fierce frenzy of sweat, spit, and cum. Every single time was just as hot, different, and intoxicating. It was almost as if I was getting an addiction - of being Chris’s Dad.

One evening as I stood there in front of the mirror and breathed in a day’s worth of musk this body had produced, when a memory suddenly came to me, of a few words that Chris had said the first day I had swapped with his father: “It's like you've been my dad all along…”

Those words echoed within me, within my heart… and within my very soul. I began to imagine what my whole life would have been like if I was born in this body; the childhood I had, the friends I made, even the partners I went through. I then began to imagine what life would be like from now on if I somehow kept this body; the job I had to learn, the family I would have to love, and the wild nights I would experience. I don’t know what came over me at that point, as I leaned against the reflective surface of the mirror and gave my reflection a few kisses while staring intensely into the eyes of Chris’s naked drooling dad.

“What if I have been you all along… What if I was always meant to be you… What if being you for the rest of my life is all I ever wanted…” I murmured to myself in a low and husky voice, right before I exploded and coated the entire mirror with Chris’s Dad’s sticky semen. I quickly cleaned it up, with my tongue.

An opportunity came one day when Chris and most of the family had to go on a supply run. As soon as they were gone I made my way inside my friend’s messy room and began rummaging around. It took a few minutes before I managed to find the notebook which he had scribbled the ancient body swap spell in. It detailed a sacred ritual to be performed as well as an incantation of foreign language. I could only understand a bit of it, but from what I understood Chris’s Dad would think and act exactly as me during the swap, which relieved some of my worries over what I thought of doing next. At first I had thought of just ripping the page out and throwing it away, but that would make Chris suspicious. Instead, I took an eraser and erased three of the words off the incantation, before rewriting some similar-looking words in their stead. Chris was always impressed at how well I could copy his hand-writing. Of course, I also scribbled the correct words of the incantation down on another paper, just in case. As I left the notebook and Chris’s room in the exact state as when I came in, I was already leaking profusely in my pants.

With the two-week getaway soon coming to an end, Chris began discussing how he would swap me and his father back into our rightful bodies. He decided he would do it the night before they left, as his dad and I slept. Chris explained that the ancient body swap spell had to be performed correctly and precisely, as even the smallest error could ruin the process and cause unimaginable consequences. Such as us being stuck as bodiless spirits or me somehow being stuck as his Dad for good…

- THE Night -

It was a quarter before midnight on the night before we would leave. I had just taken a long hot shower and scrubbed my big hairy body clean from the filth of the day. Staring back at me in the bathroom mirror was the dripping wet reflection of Chris’s Father sensually running his hands through the pelt of fur on his chest. This was it, the moment of truth. I had to decide if I was really going through with this. I had no idea what would come, nor the consequences that would follow from messing with Chris’s spell. All I knew was that I wanted to stay this way; to keep this incredibly hairy and sexy body all to myself and to continue playing the role of Chris’s Father… possibly forever.

Determined, I picked up the piece of paper from the notebook a few days prior and scrunched it up into a ball. With a long deep breath I dropped it into the toilet and flushed it down. Its scribbled content and possibly my only way of returning back to my old life and body, forever gone.

Just as discussed with Chris earlier, I walked into the bedroom and laid my big heavy body down on the bed. I tried to close my eyes and fall asleep, but my mind was racing and my heart was pounding out of my hairy chest. I was anxious, scared, and excited, all at the same time, as I watched the bedroom clock strike midnight. At first nothing happened, so I gave off a breath of relief.

However, soon enough a strange sensation coursed through me. It was as if Chris’s Dad’s entire body began glowing and everything slowed down. My senses dulled, my limbs became numb, and I felt as if a big unending void opened up within me. An eerie blue-ish smoke began emerging from my hairy chest and rose up towards the roof. I simply watched on in both horror and fascination as the wispy smoke quickly shifted and transformed into the shape of my old self. As if carried away by some higher calling, the smoke phased through the roof and disappeared… leaving me laying there on the bed in complete bewilderment.

The void within me felt even larger now, as if my whole being was empty and without reason. My thoughts went to the smokey shape that had resembled my former self, but for some reason it felt bizarrely foreign, as if I no longer recognized it as my own. I tried to think of my own name, my old life, and my former body, but it all felt so distant. It was a feeling of grasping at something which no longer existed; a life and an identity no longer my own. Somehow the botched spell had drained me of my sense of self, but left my mind and consciousness still attached to Chris’s father’s burly body!

I barely had time to finish my thoughts when some red-ish smoke suddenly emerged from the roof. I immediately recognized the wispy form being in the shape of Chris’s Dad. His big hairy sleeping body with its bearded tranquil face slowly descending towards me, as if attracted to the flesh I currently inhabited. I could’ve tried to move out of the way, I could’ve resisted against it entering me… but instead I opened my arms and embraced it welcomingly. When the wisp of smoke finally entered me, yet another strange sensation washed over me. The void within me was suddenly filled and I felt warm and complete again. I felt as if I was home, as if everything was right in the world. The name of Chris’s Dad echoed within my mind repeatedly: “Hank Warrens… Hank Warrens… Hank Warrens…”. The name felt so suited for me, so comfortable, almost as if I had always been called by that name. I realized then that I had fully absorbed Chris’s father’s sense of self. His name, his identity, his whole being… now belonged to me whether I wanted it or not! No matter how you looked at it, I was truly Chris's Dad, Hank Warrens now!

The sound of rustling was heard from the master bedroom door, and as I peered over I briefly saw the shape of Chris running off. He had decided to check in on me to see if the spell had properly worked, to make sure that we had returned to our own bodies. Which meant Chris most likely witnessed the moment his dad’s smokey form reunited with its burly body, under the assumption that it was the reversal process of the body swap. As far as he would know, the spell went off without a hitch and his father was back in his rightful body. That I, Hank Warrens, was back in my rightful, big, hairy, and sexy dad body…

As soon as the sound of Chris’s footsteps in the hallway quieted down, I immediately looked down at the incredible body laid out in front of me.

The hairy chest, the thick muscles, and the girthy member, they were all mine now. To touch, to squeeze, to taste, whenever and wherever I desired. Not to mention that wonderfully musty scent that oozed from my hairy armpits from the bed underneath. All these sensations and sights felt so familiar to me now, as if they had been mine all along. “It’s really like I’ve been you all along, Hank…”

I have no idea what the future holds for me now as Chris’s father, nor how I’ll deal with the situation if I’m ever found out by others… but I’m beyond excited to be dealing with it as the incredibly hairy and thick daddy Hank Warrens.

Well, maybe not as excited as my incredibly girthy and rock-hard cock right now, which is desperately yearning for my firm touch. Let's just hope I won't be too tired for the car trip home tomorrow… otherwise I'll just have to stay another day here in the cabin with my son Chris…

#bodyswap #dad #thick #hairy #absorption #magic #identity theft #selflove #permanent

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fatallyfalling · 5 months

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Strawberry Wine ~ 𖤓

“ safe & sound “

warnings: mentions of alcohol, canon Hunger Games violence/trauma, wholesome fluff, etc.

{{ word count }} 487

{{ prompt }} fluffy headcanons for our beloved bread boy !!

{{ a/n }} this is short & sweet while i test out Peeta’s character! I’m not sure what i exactly want to write with him since i’ve adored everlark for forever but for now please enjoy my silly happy thoughts! Some of these i’ve heard around the internet i think but i can’t remember where :[

Peeta Mellark, the ashy blonde from District 12 who stole the hearts of the Capital with his charms and sweet, boyish nature while also managing to tame a stubborn Mockingjay - Katniss Everdeen, and poured out his heart and soul to get back to her any way he could.

- Peeta is a morning person. He'll get up early and have breakfast ready by the time Katniss pulls out of bed (she learns to sleep in post-rebellion).

- His favorite type of bread/pastry is croissants. The tedious labor of laminating the cold butter block into the fluffy dough is cathartic in a way.

- Once, he tried to teach Katniss to paint. Once. Her attempt at trees looked more like crazy brown and green spiders but he still kissed her temple and had the painting framed, much to the girl on fire's dismay.

- Peeta doesn't like hard liquor - he never did. Effie hooks him on a strawberry wine made special in what used to be District 11, he's gifted at least one bottle every birthday or holiday.

- He's such a housewife no questions asked, hands down. Hungry? He'll cook. Thirsty? Anything you want. This man has to be physically removed from the kitchen during friendly gatherings so he can actually relax and enjoy the company.

- Also, his Dad lore is insane.

(speaking to his kids when they're older) "Oh yeah, your Mom tried to kill me once. but it's okay I made it even the next year so we're good now."

"One time I almost got eaten by a monkey in a fight to the death."

"Another time I took a spontaneous road trip, got held hostage, and then led a rebellion to victory alongside your Mom."

- Peeta teaches himself guitar so he can play along while Katniss sings. His chords are wildly out of tune at first, but he gets it eventually.

- Peeta doesn't like store-bought bread, saying his homemade loaves taste better (they do).

- He's a hugger, every hello and goodbye is met by a bear hug. His hugs are amazing as well, nice and tight but also comforting and warm.

- For a while after the war Peeta kept a journal on his nightstand to record his dreams/nightmares. Even if the text turns out to be chicken scratch in the morning Katniss still helps him decipher and work through it to solidify reality.

“What does that say ?”

“Uh… I think… no - wait, I have no idea,”

- Effie and Peeta definitely have wine nights to talk about their scary guard dog partners and how much they love them.

- Speaking of paint - it’s everywhere, all the time, mainly his hands. Oil paint is next to impossible to clean so almost all of Peeta’s shirts have some amount of color speckled on the sleeves or the thighs of his pants.

- Peeta also keeps a cookie jar of homemade cookies in the kitchen, they’re replenished every week with regular flavor swaps.

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bearotonin-international · 8 months

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i want you to know that when i was a kid i was really into polar animals so my mom got me a polar bear stuffed animal that came with a documentary and when i watched it and learned that polar bears eat seals instead of being friends with them i cried and my mom decided i wasn’t allowed to watch that movie again

we're sorry for that sad experience learning that this silly goober

is also a lethal beast

#responsible bear programming #<< that is our tag for bears doing what they naturally do #and a reminder to everyone that as sweet and silly and pettable and adorable bears look. they are dangerous predators #and you should under no circumstances approach or try to pet them #lethal beast #ask

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holylulusworld · 11 days

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A gentle scent (2)

Summary: He’s your alpha now.

Written for @spnkinkevents SPN Omegaverse Week – Day 4 – Sunday, April 17 - Submissive Alpha and/or Dominant Omega

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, late bloomer, dirty talk, cocky reader, needy Dean, Beta turns out to be alpha, true mates, possessive omega

Word Count:

Catch up here: A gentle scent

SPN Omegaverse Week Masterlist

Eight months later, …

“She’s dead,” you growl low in your throat. “I will go over there and rip her throat out. Maybe I’ll make a nice puzzle out of her body parts.”

Sam inhales sharply. He already knows that you are very territorial when it comes to his brother, your mate, and newbie alpha. “Y/N, he only tries to get information from her. Dean would never cheat on you.”

You huff. “I trust Dean,” you roll your eyes at Sam’s comment. “This is about that woman putting her hand on my man’s bicep. She can scent me on him and still, that needy bitch touches what’s mine!”

“You’re a very possessive omega, huh?” Sam watches you clench and unclench your fists. “I’m not saying that this is a bad thing.”

“Stay out of our relationship,” you snap at Sam. “I’m protective, not possessive. Dean presented not eight months ago. He’s not used to omegas being all over him, or how to tame his alpha. My alpha needs a strong hand and guidance.”

Sam snorts. He never took his brother for a sub. It seems that Dean trusts you enough to give up control and let you guide him.

“That’s it,” you push off the wall to stalk toward Dean and the witness. “Agent, Hetfield, you need to come to an end. We got a new lead.”

“Oh, sure,” Dean nods. Your scent got stronger, and he knows, you are about to attack the omega touching his arm. He didn’t think much about it. The hunter always used his good looks and charm to get information out of people. It’s different now that he’s mated.

You wrap your hand around Dean’s wrist and tug lightly. “If you’d excuse us now. Me and Agent Hetfield have more people to interrogate.”

“Maybe we can meet up later,” she dares to say. “I’m off work at five.” She batts her lashes and smiles at Dean.

“He’s mated,” you grit your teeth and glare at the woman. “Do you have no shame?”

Before you lose control you tug at Dean’s wrist again and guide him away from the woman and toward his brother.

Sam watches his brother follow you like a clueless puppy. He snickers, already knowing you are going to throw a tantrum back at the motel.

“Sweetheart, I’d never do such a thing. She touched my arm and I let her, to get her to talk to me. You know I only have eyes for you,” Dean whines when you throw your shoe against the wall.

You’re close to your pre-heat and angry at yourself for feeling the way you do. Dean would never cheat on you, you know that, but your omega can’t bear watching him near another woman.

“She touched you,” you wrinkle your nose. Even though you forced Dean to shower, you still smell her on him. “I can smell that bitch on you.”

“No, you can’t,” he murmurs, and steps closer to you. “I only want you, omega. You know that. No woman can compare to you. You took my knot virginity after all.” Dean grins now. “I hope you remember that you took it.”

“Of course, I remember that I turned a lost puppy into a feral wolf wanting to mate me anytime he gets the chance to do so,” you smirk and run your hand over his arm. “Now he’s a good alpha.”

“You helped me become a better man,” his features soften when you tilt your head in submission. You rarely give in to your nature and let Dean have control. “You know that I only want to put my knot inside of you, right?”

“I hope so,” you cup his crotch, lightly squeezing him through his pants. His cock twitches in interest, and you chuckle at his eagerness. “Because I only want your knot inside of me.”

“I hope so,” Dean mirrors your smirk. He tilts his head to expose his untouched mating gland to you. “How about you show every omega that I’m only yours…”

Tags in reblog.

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfic #spnomegaverseweek2024 #dean winchester x reader #a/b/o #alpha!dean winchester x reader #alpha!dean winchester x omega!reader

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nothorses · 6 months

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I saw your tags on the post about trick or treaters not speaking and I am v interested in hearing more of your thoughts on the concept of “developmental delays”! I‘ve seen the idea that disability is a construct, but I’m not as familiar with the idea that development is also a construct. You have really great takes as an educator and someone who like, actually GETS how kids work, so I am interested in your thoughts!

I also know that posting on this subject might be poking the bear, so it is 1000% cool if you would rather not comment 💜 Tysm!

Oh I'm happy to talk about it! I love talking about this stuff, thank you for asking me to 💙

This isn't exactly new ground; there's been plenty of research into and writing on the subject, and deconstructing "development" as a static concept was, ironically, a huge part of my most recent development class.

The idea is that our understanding of "benchmarks" of development, which informs the larger concept of development as a whole, is heavily rooted in the assumption that Western culture is The Standard. We prioritize walking, talking, reading, and writing, which means we cultivate these skills in our children from a young age, which means they develop those skills more quickly than they do others.

To use one of my favorite examples from Rogoff, 2003, Orienting Concepts and Ways of Understanding the Cultural Nature of Human Development:

Although U.S. middle-class adults often do not trust children below about age 5 with knives, among the Efe of the Democratic Republic of Congo, infants routinely use machetes safely (Wilkie, personal communication, 1989). Likewise, Fore (New Guinea) infants handle knives and fire safely by the time they are able to walk (Sorenson, 1979). Aka parents of Central Africa teach 8- to 10-month-old infants how to throw small spears and use small pointed digging sticks and miniature axes with sharp metal blades: "Training for autonomy begins in infancy. Infants are allowed to crawl or walk to whatever they want in camp and allowed to use knives, machetes, digging sticks, and clay pots around camp. Only if an infant begins to crawl into a fire or hits another child do parents or others interfere with the infant’s activity. It was not unusual, for instance, to see an eight month old with a six-inch knife chopping the branch frame of its family’s house. By three or four years of age children can cook themselves a meal on the fire, and by ten years of age Aka children know enough subsistence skills to live in the forest alone if need be. (Hewlett, 1991, p. 34)" (pg. 5)

In the US we would view "letting an 8-month-old handle a knife" as a sign of severe neglect, but the emphasis here is placed on the fact that these children are taught to do these things safely. They don't learn out of necessity, or stumble into knives when nobody is watching; they learn with care, support, and safety in mind, just like children here learn. It makes me wonder if Aka parents would view our children's lack of basic survival skills with the same concern and disdain as USAmerican parents would view their children's inability to read.

Do we disallow our children from handling knives because it is objectively, fundamentally unsafe for a child of that age to do so- because even teaching them is developmentally impossible- or is that just a cultural assumption?

What other cultural assumptions do we have about child development?

Which ties in neatly with various social-based models of disability, particularly learning and, of course, developmental disabilities. If your culture doesn't value the things you are good at, and you happen to struggle with the things it does value, what kinds of assumptions is it likely to make about you? How will it pathologize you? What happens to that culture if it understands those values to be arbitrary, in order to accommodate your unique existence?

#education #childcare #disability #ftr I am specifically saying that it adds an important and interesting dimension to models of disability based on the social model #because disability is a complex combination of social/cultural and legitimately limiting factors that people to this day #are still trying to define in an inclusive and effective way #(and probably will be forever because it's so tied up in social/cultural and political stuff)#I dont want to imply that disability is 100% entirely made up- but it also isn't 100% entirely 'objective physical reality' or whatever.#its complicated. ill have better thoughts when im not just like 5 weeks into my first disability studies class lmao

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steddieasitgoes · 4 months

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@steddiemas Day 18 Prompt: Classic Christmas Songs

Tags: Eddie Munson Hates Christmas Music, Steve Harrington Has A Crush On Eddie, But He Doesn't Know It, Rewriting A Song As A Means To Flirt, Robin Buckey Is A Great Friend, Jewish Eddie

wc: 1230 | Rating: G

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

“Christmas songs again?” Eddie groans, stepping into the warm air of Family Video. Unfurling the scarf he begrudgingly wears after Ms. Henderson went through the trouble of knitting him one last year, he moseys his way to Steve and Robin who are slouched over the counter.

“If we did do you think we would be listening to Christmas songs right now?” Robin asks, lifting her head from where she had it buried in her hands. “I’m one “Last Christmas” loop away from becoming the Grinch.”

“Hey! Don’t disrespect Wham like that!”

Eddie snorts, shaking his head. “You would love that song, big boy.” Pulling his gaze away from Steve and the annoyed pout he’s currently sporting, he locks eyes with Robin. “Quick Buckley, name the worst Christmas song.”

“Baby, It’s Cold Outside,” obviously.”

“What!” Steve gasps from beside her. “It’s romantic!”

“It’s predatory, Steve! He’s holding her hostage!”

“Sorry, Stevie, but I have to side with Robin on this one.”

“You two are ridiculous,” Steve says, rolling his eyes as he goes back to checking in returns.

“I see your “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” and I raise you “The Twelve Days of Christmas,” Eddie says.

Robin hums in contemplation before tilting her head. “Not a fan of birds?”

“Honestly, the birds are the least offensive part of the song.”

“Oh no,” Steve groans, turning around in his chair to face them. “I smell a Munson rant in our future.”

“Good thing we have all the candy we could ever ask for,” Robin muses already fishing out a container of gummy words from the candy counter to her left. “Let's hear it, Munson.”

Eddie takes a moment to gather himself, takes a big inhale of air, and then launches into his practiced rant about how “Twelve Days of Christmas” is the worst Christmas song to ever be created. Sure, it doesn’t have predatory connotations like Robin’s song, but it does have a shit ton of birds that no person would ever want to be gifted. And that’s only the beginning. He rants about the unbearable upbeat music, the repetitive nature, and all the other stupid gifts this unnamed person gets their so-called true love.

But his biggest qualm with the song comes at the end of his nearly fifteen-minute rant.

“And no one even questions why there’s suddenly 12 days of Christmas! Christmas is one day not twelve. It’s encroaching on Hanukkah,” he huffs, hands thrown in the air nearly knocking over the pile of returns Steve was previously working through. “Multiple days of celebration is our thing, but oh, no, the Christmas crew had to come take it.”

“Huh. I never thought about it like that.”

“Glad I could enlighten you,” he says, bowing in her direction. When he comes back up from his dramatic, he turns in Steve’s direction. “What about you, Stevie? Have I changed your stance on Christmas songs?”

“I mean, yeah… “Twelve Days of Christmas,” you know is a stupid song, but I mean Wham’s “Last Christmas” isn’t.”

Eddie thunks his head against the counter at the same time Robin lets out a groan. As far as Eddie’s concerned, there’s no arguing with Steve on this one. It’s best to cut is losses, rent the movie Dustin requested for the first annual Hellfire Movie Night, and get out of here before he has to bear witness to whatever Steve’s face looks like when Wham blasts through the shitty speakers.

“Take me with you,” Robin pleads, hand clasped around his wrist.

“Sorry, Buckley. You’re on your own with this one.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“So far I have a dreidel, latke, and eight candles shining. But I still need five more things.” Groaning, Steve tips his head back, narrowly missing the neon Family Video sign. “This is harder than I thought.”

“What exactly are you doing?” Robin asks through a mouthful of gummy bears.

“M’trying to rewrite “Twelve Days of Christmas” into “Eight Nights of Hanukkah” for Eddie.”

“Aw, Steve,” she coos, rolling her chair over to him so she can give him a playful pat on the back. “You’re finally going to tell him you like him with a song!”

“What?” he shouts, head whipping forward. If he wakes up with a kink in his neck tomorrow, it’s entirely Robin’s fault. And he’s going to make sure she knows it. “I don’t like Eddie!"

Robin scoffs. “Right, so you’re just writing him a song because…”

“Because, his little rant was inspiring, okay? It’s not fair that Christmas has all these songs and Hanukkah only has that dreidel one,” Steve grumbles. “Maybe if he had his own song to sing he wouldn’t hate mine so much.”

“Alright well, good luck with that,” Robin snorts before quickly disappearing to help the sole customer in the store.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Steve spends the next three Family Video shifts rewriting “Twelve Days Of Christmas” into a Hanukkah-themed song worthy of Eddie’s praise. Reluctantly Robin pitches in on the second day, reminding Steve that the lyrics don’t have to be about Hanukkah since birds have nothing to do with Christmas.

The revelation is the key to breaking the writer's block he was facing and by the end of their third shift of the week, Steve has a perfectly crafted “Eight Night of Hanukkah” song ready for Eddie’s eyes.

When Eddie strolls in five minutes before they close, Robin starts goading Steve into delivering his present. She wants him to sing the song to him, but he’s not about to

put himself through that embarrassment — especially not in front of Eddie who can actually carry a tune. Instead, he passes Eddie the piece of paper he carefully transferred the final lyrics to this afternoon and watches with bated breath as Eddie takes it in his hands and begins to read it.

The silence is unbearable and Steve’s three seconds away from jumping over the counter, retreating to his Beamer, and running away from Hawkins so he never has to see him again, when Eddie clears his throat.

“You wrote this?” Eddie asks and Steve nods, bile rising in his chest. “For me?”

“I mean, yeah? I just… I couldn't stop thinking about what you said and—“

He’s cut off by the feeling of Eddie’s arms tugging him forward. His hip collides into the counter, but its all worth it when Eddie leans forward, wrapping himself as best he can around Steve.

He’s warm, warmer than Steve thought he would be. The scarf he’s been wearing for weeks now smells like cigarettes and something woodsy — a cologne or aftershave if Steve had to guess. Steve can feel the rise and fall of his chest as Eddie rocks him closer.

It makes Steve feel… well it, makes him feel something.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” Eddie admits, finally letting go of Steve.

“It was nothing, man,” Steve shrugs and ignores the way Robin rolls her eyes beside him. At least she has the decency to hide her scoff behind an impromptu coughing fit.

“Nothing? You wrote a song! That’s not nothing! Seriously, thank you. M’gonna go home and put music to it immediately. None of that upbeat “Twelve Days of Christmas” nonsense though. This deserves real guitars.”

“Will you play it for me?”

“Course! We’re co-creators on this bad boy now!”

Steve likes the sound of that.

Maybe more than he should.

#steddiemas #two fics today surpise!#steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie fluff #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve fic #eddie fic #steve harrington fic #eddie munson fic #robin buckley #stranger things #stranger things fic #dani writes

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creamsickle-writes · 2 years

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Crocodile x F!Reader: Day 13

Tags: nsfw, breeding, creampie, and stomach bulges

“Do you ever think about what’s left when you’re gone?”

You turn your head to face the large man that sits beside you, gray smoke wafting from his lips. Furrowing your brow, you turn your body to face him entirely, the velvet of the couch sliding against you as you do so. The light from the moon shines through the floor-to-ceiling windows of your luxury suite.

“How do you mean?” You ask, looking at him intently, determined to understand his question.

Crocodile takes another puff of his cigar, “I mean exactly what I said. I’m thinking about my legacy.”

You hum, “Has it been on your mind lately?”

He presses his lips together as he places his cigar in his ashtray, “It has.”

You wait in silence, expecting more to come. And with time, it does, “I need an heir.”

Your face grew flushed at his words. Crocodile was your partner, after all. A proposal like that meant that he wanted you to bear a child.

You swallow, and he chuckles, “Well, once Alabasta is ours, it will be ours for a long time. And when I grow old, I will need someone to take on the responsibility.”

“When would you want this heir?”

You chew at your lip, and Crocodile notices your flushed nature. He takes a finger and hooks it under your chin, making you look into his eyes. His eyes light up, a smirk on his lips.

“As soon as possible.”

Your head swims as he leans close, his lips ghosting your ear. You stiffen up as he takes his hand and runs it along your thigh.

“I take it you’d like to start now?”

“Now would be ideal.”

He bites your ear, and your head spins as he removes his hand from your chin,instead using his palm to slide between your legs. You simply spread your legs for him, allowing his fingers to brush against your slit underneath your skirt, through your panties.

“Go ahead and take what you want from me.”

His lips press together, a wide smile gracing his features. He immediately dives forward, taking the skin of your neck between his lips. He sucks harshly, causing you to gasp out.

His hand continues working your slit through the fabric as he busies his lips with your neck. With careful hands, he takes your panties and slides them to the side, exposing your entrance. His thick fingers slide slowly over the damp area, eventually focusing on your clit.

You moan out for him, and he chuckles lowly, drawing loose circles over your clit with his fingertips. His calloused fingers feel so good against your little nub you can’t help but let out a sigh for him.

“That’s it,” He speaks in a grumble, “Enjoy this. It could be the last time for a while… I intend to get you pregnant tonight.”

You whimper as his lips trail from your neck to your shoulders, nibbling gently at the skin.

At his dirty words, you clench internally, your core growing wetter. He groans against your skin before pulling away, pushing you into the couch. You gasp as your back hits the velvety cushions.

Crocodile prods at your hole with his fingers before sliding in slowly. You whine as his thick digits penetrate you, causing you to moan out for him. Your eyes shut tight as he spreads his fingers apart, stretching you out to prepare you.

He readies you with slow, precise movements, his fingers exploring your cavern. You open your eyes to steal a glance, and you watch as his brow furrows, his gaze intense. And, for a moment, he looks up at you, your eyes meeting.

“You’re very tight, but don’t worry, we will fix that.”

He effortlessly slides his digits from you, your slick coating them.

Crocodile hovers above you, tossing his cape aside and working himself out of his pants to reveal his long, thick cock. He pushes one of your thighs to your chest using his ring-clad hand. You get the message, pressing your other leg against your breast.

You swallow; even though you had sex many times before, this time was going to be different. He was fucking with the intent to knock you up.

You licked your lips.

His dark head rubs against your slit, coating itself in your juices before slipping in. You moan as his massive cock stretches you out, your stomach bulging from the protrusion.

Your eyes roll back as his cock head kisses your cervix, stretching you impossibly. Your hands reach for his back and dig in, your fingers grasping at his jacket. He growls above you, his hips beginning to move at a steady pace.

“Look at how small you are,” he chuckles, “When I fill you up, there will be nowhere for the cum to go except in your womb…”

You whimper, your legs beginning to shake as his hips rock in and out of you. Drool slides down the corner of your lip as his dick slides over your g-spot, stimulating it just right.

“C-Crocodile…” You moan, “Sir, please, feels so good.”

“Then maybe I shouldn’t go any faster,” His chest rumbles with laughter, “It may be too much for your fragile little body…”

Your fingers sink into his shoulder blades, “Please, fuck me.”

He leans in closer, some loose strands falling in front of his face, “I’ll breed you properly then. Let’s hope I don’t destroy you.”

Before you can ask what he means, he slides out, leaving only his thick tip within you. He then slams in, bruising your cervix and knocking the breath out of your lungs.

“Fuck-!”

He grips your thigh tightly with his hand, his nails digging crescent moon shapes into your skin. He fucks you roughly, his hips smacking against your flesh. You desperately hold onto him, the pleasure building up within you as he thrusts harshly.

“That’s it,” He groans, “What an amazing expression you have.”

But you can’t talk back, your mouth hanging open with silent screams escaping you.

He continues pounding you, leaving your insides to feel like mush as your orgasm builds up within you. Your breaths are short, and your grip on him grows even tighter until, finally, you burst. You cum all over his cock, allowing him to slide in and out even faster.

His hips begin to take on an uneven pace, and Crocodile’s breath grows ragged. You look up at him with brows creased, your expression desperate and needy.

“Cum in me, Sir.”

His eyes shut tight, and he groans as he empties his hot, sticky load within you. Your eyes roll back, and you moan happily, enjoying the feeling of being filled.

Crocodile thrusts a few more times before pulling out, some of his seed escaping your cavern.

His thumb traces over your puffy lips, spreading them apart slightly to watch his cum ooze out of you.

“We will try again in a few hours.” He says it, and you know you have no room to argue. You bite your lip, knowing that from this day on, you will be used to fulfill his dream of having an heir.

“Yes, Sir.”

#crocodile x reader #one piece #one piece smut #anime #fanfiction #x reader #cream's fics #sir crocodile #crocodile one piece

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maniculum · 2 months

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Bestiaryposting Results: Haesorog

Welcome to this week's bestiaryposting results! This is an unusual one in that the entry is short, but we have plenty of physical details. We're also following up two obvious ones with a description I genuinely think nobody can identify unless they're familiar with the bestiary tradition itself, or the sources thereof.

If any of that was confusing to you, please consult past posts on this matter at https://maniculum.tumblr.com/bestiaryposting. You can also keep up with the current beast of the week -- and participate -- by checking out the tag "maniculum bestiaryposting". The entry that our artists are working from this week can be found here:

Anyway, art below the cut in roughly chronological order:

@silverhart-makes-art (link to post here) took this in a rhinoceros kind of direction, drawing something that reminds me of paleoart depicting prehistoric rhino relatives that I have seen & enjoyed. I was going to say something like "I'm not sure if that was the vibe they were going for", but the linked post cites Brontotherium as an inspiration for the horn, so that's probably what I'm picking up on. The depiction of it defending its young makes this a really interesting image, I think; I like it a lot. Also, the design decisions explained in the linked post are genuinely pretty interesting, so I encourage you to check that out.

@moonygryffin (link to post here) ran with the "ibis feet, deer head" thing to produce something kind of like a flightless peryton, which I think is pretty cool. What's really clever here, I think, is how the body effectively blends elements of both animals so that it looks like a natural transition between the two. It's kind of bird-shaped, but you can see some deer-shaped elements at the top, and it's got this furry kiwi kind of vibe that's plausibly both "deer" and "bird".

Moonygryffin also suggests that the thing with the feet is the result of our favorite game, Manuscript Telephone, and it was originally the footprint of an ibex, which I think is probably correct. From some quick searching, it looks like Pliny just described this beast as having "cloven hooves". I think it's plausible that a later author changed it for purposes of parallelism -- "size of an ox, fur of a bear, head of a deer, feet of an ibex" -- and then someone else misread it and gave it bird feet. (Do ibexes/ibices* have cloven hooves? I'm going to assume they do, they're goats, right?)

*I checked the OED; both plural forms are attested, though the first is the more common. Which is probably why Tumblr is giving the second one the red underline.

@cheapsweets (link to post here) went for a similar concept as the above, but in a different medium and interpretation. Genuinely impressed by the realistic detail on the legs and head here -- CheapSweets has mentioned seeking out some reference material and art books recently, so I'm inclined to assume those are really paying off. Look at that thing. There's a lot of interesting material in the linked post, speaking to influences, research, and design decisions, which I think is definitely worth checking out. One thing I want to point out specifically because I missed it the first time I saw this drawing: take a look at the people & dog in the background at the top left. Now look at the trees next to them. One of them is a Haesorog cleverly disguising itself. Excellent.

(Also thank you for providing alt text.)

@pomrania (link to post here) has collaborated with @theforceisstronginthegirl on this one, which is a delight! Pleased to see you back, Theforceisstronginthegirl. Anyway, they've also clocked the error with the ibis thing: while they don't suggest it's an error for ibex, they do suggest that it refers to cloven hooves, which as previously mentioned is indeed what Pliny says about it. And then they also decided to give it bird feet anyway because that's more fun, which is very much in the spirit of the thing, excellent call. Anyway, the focus of this design is on the camouflage aspect. They've interpreted it as simply having stellar natural camouflage, which is why it's shown next to a tree here -- we can see that the pattern of its fur lets it blend in with the coloration of the trees around it, and that leaves tangled in its antlers along with its ability to stand on two legs enhances the effect.

@sweetlyfez (link to post here) went with a similar quadrupedal design, shaggy deer-like thing with bird legs, but went the opposite direction with the camouflage. Her post indicates it's shown here "shedding some leaves from the last time it turned into a bush," which means this version of the Haesorog is suggested to have actively supernatural camouflage that allows it to shapeshift. (Which is definitely suggested by the text.) There's something very evocative about the eyes here, which I like. (Also, thank you for including alt text.)

@coolest-capybara (link to post here) continues to deliver beautifully stylized art. I'm really delighted by the the pose the second Haesorog is taking in order to blend in with the very pretty Stylized Plants around it -- I think this is maybe not the environment where color-shifting is hugely useful, as I have no doubt the first Haesorog is fully aware of its presence. Something that makes this particular design interesting is that between the default coloration displayed on the left and the shape of the feet, you get a kind of "this thing is a step too human for a quadruped" feeling that makes it a little more unique-looking than it might be otherwise. (Also, thanks for including alt text.)

Over all of these entries, I'm noting that one effect of the clear physical description is that it does provide a more restricted space in which artists can play -- it's much more obvious than in other weeks that all of these are the same animal. Whether that's an upside or a downside is, I think, wholly subjective. Now let's look at the Aberdeen Bestiary.

...

Okay, we can't do that actually. The page with the illustration is missing from the Aberdeen Bestiary. So we're looking over to its sister manuscript, the Bodley Bestiary. (MS. Bodl. 764, also digitized online.)

So this beast is of course the Parander.

Yep, bet everyone feels foolish for not recognizing such a common and well-known animal as the parander.

Also, of course, known as the Tarand or Tarander, of course. Or parandrus / tarandrus in Latin.

Right, so the reason that I was so confident nobody without a thorough background in the bestiary tradition (or Pliny the Elder) would recognize this one is because it's not a real animal. And it's not even one of the mythical ones that managed to get a foothold in the modern consciousness.

I might be overstating the "not a real animal" line, actually; odds are good it's based on one. Let's talk about that.

There have been some guesses as to the parander's identity in scholarship. The Bostock translation of Pliny has a footnote that cites two competing theories: "reindeer" and "elk [aka 'moose']". The reindeer one gets an explanation -- differently-colored summer and winter coats -- but the elk one is just kind of tossed out there as a proposed alternative. My guess (based on it already being past 10:30pm here and not wanting to put in the time to track down a source that's cited only by a last name with no other identifying information) is that that one's about the parander's size being emphasized.

You may say, "excuse me Maniculum, neither of those animals lives anywhere near Ethiopia. What are you playing at? Are you going to try and convince me that the pre-modern definition of 'Ethiopia' was so broad it encompassed the Arctic Circle?" The solution is that the parander wasn't originally described as being from Ethiopia -- Pliny says it's from Scythia. Which... also seems a bit too far south. But it's entirely reasonable that the Scythians were reporting on something seen on a trip north or something they heard about from northern neighbors, which would put "reindeer" and "elk/moose" both back in as options. Scythia is close enough to the range of both of those animals that it's plausible they would be familiar with them.

Someone you may have heard of took a stance on this issue, interestingly. An 18th-century biologist named...

... Linnaeus. Yep, it's codified right into the scientific name for "reindeer" now, and has been for as long as binomial nomenclature has been a thing. Anyone who wants to make the "elk/moose" argument is going to have a bit of an uphill battle.

All that out of the way, now take a moment and scroll back up to that medieval illustration. Mentally compare it to the description and the art shared in this post. There's something different, right?

You may notice that the artist has given it cloven hooves rather than bird's feet, having not been confused at all by the "footprints of an ibis" thing. Now, often this is the result of the art not actually being directly based on the text, but copied from art in a previous manuscript, so a scribe can write down the wrong word and it won't affect the art at all because the artist may or may not even be reading the text as they work.

Often, but not always. In this case, I would like to float an alternate explanation.

On the left is the translation of the Bodley Bestiary I have on my shelf, to which I referred when filling in material from missing pages in the Aberdeen Bestiary. On the right is the Bodley Bestiary digitized manuscript.

Now. I am not trained in Latin paleography, so it's possible that I'm misinterpreting an abbreviation. But that word on the right... the penultimate letter certainly looks like a C, doesn't it? Not, e.g., an S? (It would be a long s here, but that doesn't actually help.)

Which means that the manuscript says ibex. The ibex -> ibis confusion is a case of Manuscript Telephone, but it was telephoned in the 1990s.

Again, like I said, I'm not an expert. I've never translated a single page of a Latin manuscript, much less had a book-length translation published in a handsome slipcover edition. So it's very possible I'm missing something. But right now I'm pretty sure that everyone's been drawing bird feet not because of an error made by a medieval scribe, but by the modern translator.

Anyway, that was exciting, right? I hope that makes up for me posting this a few hours later than usual.

#maniculum bestiaryposting #haesorog

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