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narcissistshandler · 9 months

Note

request:

reader jokingly puts a bell on miguel o’hara since he approaches so quietly he tends to startle you and the other spiders. he tolerates it because the humor improves work morale

little did he know that the bell will be jingling all night as you fuck him mercilessly

𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗦𝗜𝗟𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗕𝗘𝗟𝗟

✧ 𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦 male reader x miguel o'hara

✧ 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲 top!amab! reader, bottom! miguel, public blowjob, anal sex, saliva used as a lubricant, consensual suffocation, breath play, implied reader being a spider. minors dni.

✧ 𝖠/𝖭 my archive of editable images of miguel is over, accept this random edit then. I used a lot of words that I don't know very well, so please let me know if I've used something wrong

It was hard to hear anything but the unbearable jingling of the silver bell reverberating through his sensitive hearing; the little ball of iron inside the round shape swayed with fairy clinks where it was attached to the leather strap that tightened around his neck. A joke, had been how Miguel interpreted the unusual gift you said laughing that it was to know when he approached. A lame joke, but still, he let you close the noisy choker around his neck and accepted the kiss you pressed against his lips pursed in annoyance.

During the day, when the spiders shared laughter and a fun that Miguel didn't understand at the gift you gave him, Miguel hadn't paid attention to how the choker tightened his neck, how it accompanied the rise and fall of his throat ─ that he only noticed when you had him on his knees in a blind spot inside the Spider Society tower, and at the risk of being overheard by all nosy and curious spiders, pressed your cock deep into his tight throat until Miguel gasped and struggled for breath, bell rattling violently. The choker felt like your hands squeezing his neck.

After that, the ringing of the silver bell brought a faraway look that no one understood to his face, no one but you. He was remembering that moment, remembering your cock straining his mouth and the sounds you made each time his fangs grazed your cock, the danger of the act that was enough to make you both come, quickly. He found himself unable to get rid of the accessory.

And Miguel was aware of your eyes fixed on his neck as he spoke. Hypnotized. And he would be lying if he said he didn't know what was coming next.

The bell sounded like a drum as you smacked him against the front door of the apartment before Miguel could even close it. You demanded his attention, ravaging his mouth with symbolic violence and sweet urgency, tearing the civilian clothes Miguel wore until they were mere scraps of rags lying on the floor. All this so you could get your hands on his bare skin, map out the scars, the muscles firm and strong and his cock already eagerly hard for you.

You always seemed to want him so badly that it never ceased to amaze him.

You grabbed his bare thighs and lifted him into the air, pressing his back against the rickety door. As if he weighed nothing. Your strength would always surprise you, not because there wasn't someone stronger than Miguel or unable to take him down with pure physical strength, but because you never used your strength to hurt him, you treated him as something fragile and that should be taken care of.

And when the hurried stretching of his hole left him panting and clinging to you, silently begging for more through his grunts and moans and gasps, you kissed him and using only saliva to facilitate penetration, you slid your cock inside him.

The slide knocked the breath out of Miguel's lungs, the friction undiminished by the makeshift lubrication leaving him feeling every delicious inch of your cock opening in his flesh, demanding space.

Lips against his, even though you weren't kissing anymore and the hand that wasn't holding him high, closing around his neck just inches away from the choker, you started fucking him hard against the door. The bell reverberated with a loud bang, swaying along with your movements in and out of his ass and that was all Miguel could concentrate on: the stretching, the burning still there, the sound of the damn bell.

Miguel's eyes rolled back, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks and he searched for air, desperately gasped for oxygen ─ and you didn't have to look at his face to know it, the divine image of open mouth and spittle running down his chin; you could feel his throat rippling under your grip, heartbeat fluttering beneath your fingers. The leather strap there, close to your hand, seemed to become tighter, reflecting the pressure imposed by your fingers.

Miguel was shaking now, talons drawing blood from your shoulders, legs gripping around your waist, unable to move, unable to get away from the deep thrusts he could feel in his stomach or the bell that deafened his senses. He couldn't breathe.

White filled his vision and Miguel gasped as the oxygen suddenly handed back to him, the thud of his head hitting the door a distant sound. Maybe he came, maybe he passed out for a few seconds in your arms, but it didn't matter, he knew you were far from done with him.

#x male reader #x top reader #across the spiderverse x reader #across the spiderverse x male reader #x male top reader #x top male reader #dom reader #miguel o'hara x you #male reader insert #male reader #miguel o'hara x male reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv x reader #atsv x male reader #atsv x you

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cuubism · 8 months

Text

The thing is.

Hob understands that Dream cannot be hurt easily. He is an ancient, powerful, nonhuman being. Hob has, in fact, heard a story from Matthew about when some foolish human wannabe-magician had attempted to stab him when Dream had gone to retrieve a spell book that had slipped from the Dreaming library. According to Matthew, the knife had simply gone through his chest like he was made of smoke and left no mark at all.

(Hob still wishes he had been there. He’d have snapped the guy’s arm. Or worse.)

Barring luck and a magical binding, like what happened with Roderick Burgess, Dream can’t be hurt by mortal means. Hob understands this. Hell, he can hardly be hurt by supernatural means either. Only a few very powerful beings would be able to manage it, or else the very laws that govern his existence, coming down upon his head.

The thing also is.

Dream bruises so easily.

Sometimes.

Like now, when Dream is actually limping across the floor of the Inn. Long coat, which usually does not come with him to the waking world, wrapped tight around him. A dark bruise blooms along his cheekbone. Hob doesn’t understand how it’s possible. It shouldn’t be, not when Dream can take a knife to the heart like it’s a gust of wind, but the fact of the matter is that it is possible, apparently. And so Hob’s got to do something about it.

He meets Dream halfway across the room, braces him by the arms. “Jesus, Dream. Are you hurt?” Well, evidently he is. “How badly?”

“I told him he should stay home and rest,” grumbles Matthew from where he’s hopping along the floor at Dream’s side. Hob hadn’t even seen him there, he’d been so focused on Dream. The fact that Matthew’s not even riding on Dream’s shoulder is not a good sign.

“I did not want to miss our meeting,” Dream says. Which is a hell of a thing.

“Come upstairs, then,” Hob says, and doesn’t quite realize he’s grabbed Dream’s arm and is right pulling him along until he’s already done it. But Dream just follows him. Matthew follows, too, which, again, is not making Hob feel confident about Dream not being too badly injured.

“What happened?” Hob asks, as he sits Dream down on the couch, perching carefully at his side.

“A minor altercation,” says Dream.

“He was thrown into a wall,” says Matthew. “The wall cracked, by the way.”

Hob winces in sympathy. “Thrown by who? Or… what?”

Dream says, “It’s of no consequence.”

Matthew says, “I don’t know, but it had a lot of limbs.”

Hob’s kind of glad Matthew’s here as bullshit translator right now.

“How badly were you hurt?” he asks again. Not badly enough to keep him from traveling, evidently, but badly enough that he is limping. As a measly little human, Hob might find himself limping for a while just by twisting his ankle going down the stairs— but he does not like that intersection of facts when it’s someone like Dream.

“I am fine,” says Dream, and then winces as he shifts his weight on the couch.

“Bullshit,” say Hob and Matthew simultaneously, after which Matthew adds, “Uh, I mean, bullshit, your lordship.”

Dream slants a reproving glance over at him, then back to Hob. “Can I see?” Hob asks, more gently. “I’d like to help. If I can.”

Gingerly, Dream shrugs his long robe off his shoulders. Underneath, he’s wearing his usual black t-shirt, and at Hob’s urging he pulls that off over his head, too, though evidently with some pain. His chest and stomach seem uninjured, the unnaturally pale and smooth skin is still just that, unnaturally pale and smooth— so Hob tugs on his shoulder. “Can I see your back?”

Dream turns, and Hob tries not to think too hard about Dream doing his bidding like that—it’s tender and troubling and arousing all at once, and he’s definitely not going to think about that last bit—and sucks in a breath.

His back is a map of bruises, nebulae arcing over his shoulders and the nape of his neck, curling down over his spine like a coiled dragon. Dream bruises prettily, even like this, periwinkle and dusk blue, the purple of sunset clouds. Another reminder of how Night, too, lives within him.

“I told you,” Matthew says, hopping up onto the back of the couch by Hob’s shoulder.

Dream makes a grumbling sound, but doesn’t deny him this time.

Hob traces a light hand along his shoulder blade and the deep, spilled-watercolor of the bruise there. Thrown into a wall, Matthew had said. Ouch.

Dream shivers at the touch, and Hob says, tentative, “Do you usually bruise like that, love?”

He’s seen it before, though not this bad. Lines of strain on Dream’s hands. A red, banded mark on his arm on one of the few occasions he’d taken his coat off in Hob’s presence. He wants to hear it from Dream, though.

Dream says, tentative now, hunched on the couch like a wounded physical thing rather than what he is, “I… suppose.”

Sitting only in his tight jeans and boots, hair a mess, the mark on his cheek makes him look hunted. Hob touches that too, with light fingertips. Dream leans into his hand with a little sigh, and… oh. That’s something.

“Hey, he got the shit kicked out of him like a few days ago and just walked away like it was nothing,” Matthew complains, as if Dream’s I suppose answer is ridiculous. “And then obliterated the other guy, too.”

“Sorry, when was this?” Hob is still holding Dream’s cheek, but Dream doesn’t turn further to meet his eyes. “Why are you getting beaten up all the time, exactly?”

He’s not Dream’s minder. He’s not. He’s not. Hob forces himself to remember that fact.

“In my absence many have forgotten the might and sanctity of the Dreaming,” says Dream, and if Hob’s not mistaken there’s a little whining petulance in his tone which is… endearing, almost. “Other realms have become… impudent. Entitled. I am simply. Reminding them to show respect. Sometimes physical conflict is necessary.”

Hob sighs. “Well, Your Majesty, maybe it’s time to take a break from the ritual dueling, yeah?”

“…Perhaps,” Dream says, which is as much of an agreement as Hob ever gets.

He supposes he’ll take perhaps. Though the more he thinks about it, the more distressing it is to imagine Dream going around getting hurt. Even if he thinks he’s doing it for some important cause.

“Well, there’s not much I can do for these right now,” Hob says, and can’t keep the concern out of his voice. “Other than letting them heal on their own.”

“I see,” says Dream, and if Hob’s not mistaken his voice is small. And he reaches for his shirt, and—

“Hey.” Hob grabs his wrist. Dream freezes. “That doesn’t mean you have to leave?” He hates that it comes out as a question.

Dream wavers. Then he says, “Matthew.”

It’s loaded with more than just Matthew’s name. An order. Matthew squawks indignantly. “Boss! Come on. You’re really gonna send me back like that? When you’re like this?”

Dream just looks at him.

Matthew sighs, fluttering his wings. “Fine. Have your special private time, then.”

Special private time, Hob mouths to himself.

Matthew lifts his wings for takeoff. “You better not send him back with more bruises, Hobert.”

“Excuse me?”

Then he’s gone, winging out a window that Hob hadn’t realized was open. Maybe it wasn’t a moment ago. Who knows.

Dream looks after him, and sighs with real fatigue. “His insolence only grows.”

“Special private time?” Hob says, and Dream glances at him, and then away.

“He is under the impression that you are my…” he says, and trails off.

Oh. Well.

They’re not like that. But.

But?

Dream looks despondent now, staring off into the corner of the flat, back still turned to Hob’s chest. Hob’s become certain that he wants something, he came here for something, not just to make their usual meeting time… but he still doesn’t know what.

Probably he should ask. Not that that ever works with Dream. Probably he should anyway.

Instead he presses his lips to the curve of Dream’s shoulder, where the bruise is deepest blue.

Dream shudders, and then goes slack in his grip, his shoulders caving. “Hob…”

“Is that what you wanted?” Hob says against his skin. He can’t believe he’s doing this. He can’t believe Dream is letting him. “Does it hurt very badly? Is that helping?”

“It…” Dream muses, and sighs. “Is. Helping.”

Hob takes Dream’s chin between his fingers and turns his face enough that he can kiss his cheek, over the horrible sprawled mark of the bruise. Dream’s eyes flutter shut. He braces a hand on Hob’s thigh as he twists back to lean into Hob’s touch. Hob could use his grip to turn his head further and kiss him properly, he thinks, with a trip in his chest. Dream’s lips are right there, soft and open.

Instead, he leans his head on the back of Dream’s neck. Lets his hands fall to Dream’s bare waist, lips brushing his skin as he says, “You don’t… really bruise, do you?”

Dream still has his head tipped back; Hob’s hair brushes his cheek. “It affects you to see it,” he says quietly.

“Of course it does,” Hob says, equally hushed now. “I hate seeing you hurt.”

“Even,” says Dream, almost tentative, “if I am not truly hurt?”

“You are hurt,” Hob says, and finally draws the strength to lift his head from Dream’s neck. Dream is still looking at him, over his shoulder. His eyes are very dark in the dim light, rimmed red, he looks soft and fragile as a flower petal and Hob would do anything for him. “You were thrown into a wall by ‘something with a lot of limbs’, after all.”

Dream huffs. “Matthew exaggerates.”

“It’s okay if you want it to matter,” Hob tells him. That’s what it is, isn’t it? “To… be seen.” He slides his hand over Dream’s where it still rests on his thigh, twines their fingers together. A flicker of stillness runs through Dream’s body, the way a human’s breath might catch. Hob thinks he might pull away.

Instead he yields, and Hob exhales hard, a breath that had coiled far too tight in his lungs unwinding. Dream caves into him, and Hob wraps his arms around him, pulls him close, kisses the curve of his shoulder and watches a bruise disappear in the echo of that touch.

“Just wanted a hug after a rough day, in the end?” Hob says, and Dream huffs again as if such a desire is offending even to imply. He doesn’t move away though.

“Is it that easy for you?” Dream’s face is close enough that his hair brushes Hob’s temple as he speaks.

“And what if it is?” What if Hob had wanted to hug him when he first spoke of his imprisonment, and held back, and still regrets it? And what if it’s so easy to fall into it now? To slip into a world, this world where he can pull Dream into his arms, like he’s wading into the ocean for the first time, into foreign currents powerful beyond imagining but primordially known. Resonant as a familiar dream.

In some sense it would be accurate to say that Hob has known Dream all his life—he is, after all, dreams. But Hob doesn’t think of his friend as dreams. Maybe it’s a limitation of his human mind not to see the endless scale of the picture. But when he thinks of Dream, he doesn’t think of all of life or anything like that.

Instead, he goes back to their meeting in 1689. When Dream had thought he might no longer want to live, and Hob swore he saw a tear nearly break that usually stern countenance. Hob had always been fascinated by him, but he thinks that was the first moment he really saw him, beyond the cloak of distance and fantasy Dream liked to wrap around himself.

He’d like to think that Dream saw him then, too.

That’s the Dream he thinks of. The Dream he’d like to say he knows. The person, not the incomprehensible entity that Dream sees himself as. An incomprehensible entity can take a knife through the chest and dissipate around it like smoke, but not a person.

“If it is,” says Dream, pulling back to properly look at him, “then perhaps I might… impose.”

He looks so… cautiously hopeful. How can he not know already? “You think it’s possible for you to impose?”

“Imposition is easy,” says Dream, quietly. Hob lifts a hand to cup his cheek, and at the same time, as if of the same mind, Dream leans in and fits his face to Hob’s palm, eyes falling shut again.

He looks so gaunt now, with his bruised cheek and shadowed eyes, sharp collarbones and the swooping curves of his ribs. Hob had thought it had gotten better since his imprisonment, but now he’s not so sure. Maybe it’s just that without the shielding of his shirt, and his robe, he looks smaller than Hob’s used to thinking of him, and angular and fragile. He’s still so impossibly beautiful, delicate like a tree glazed in post-storm ice.

It makes Hob feel unexpectedly bold. His heart trips over, but he leans in and kisses the corner of Dream’s mouth.

Dream makes a quiet, surprised sound. Turns his head, blind, seeking, and then their lips connect properly.

When Hob had let himself imagine the possibility of kissing Dream, he had seen a force of nature. His friend would kiss with the chill of the rain that night he’d left Hob standing behind the White Horse. With the encompassing darkness of the night sky. The full experience of him would be overpowering and that was okay, because even a taste of him had already turned the course of Hob’s life.

But this Dream caves. Tips his head back in Hob’s hand, opens his mouth under Hob’s. Stiffness bleeds from him, regality flees him, and what Hob has left in his hands is a soft, horribly bruised thing leaning in for a deeper kiss.

So he kisses Dream deeper. Swipes his tongue into Dream’s mouth. He tastes slightly metallic, like he might have bitten his tongue and bled, were he human, and he makes a soft sound as Hob breaks the kiss for an unfortunate but necessary breath.

He keeps Dream close, hand to his cheek. Dream, eyes still closed, says, “A kiss just to comfort me, Hob?”

It hurts, just a little, that he thinks so. “How about a kiss just because I wanted to kiss you? You really think I’m more selfless than I am.”

Dream chuckles. “I see.”

Finally, he opens his eyes to look at Hob again properly. He looks tentatively happy now, it’s there in the slight crease at the corners of his eyes, the little spark that’s returned to them. Hob’s heart swells to see it, to think that he could do that.

“What then,” says Dream, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip, “would you do… selfishly?”

“Same thing,” says Hob, and kisses him again. Dream hums into it this time, pleased. “And tell you to bring me with you next time you’re asserting your dominance around the galaxy or whatever.”

“Why?”

“There’s some guys I want to throw into walls,” Hob says.

Dream huffs, but Hob thinks he looks secretly pleased. “I am not certain ‘guys’ is an accurate description.”

“You think just because the fifteen-armed thing is a lady that I won’t—”

And Dream actually laughs, a startled choking laugh. “Your definition of chivalry is—” he gathers himself— “appalling.”

“Take it or leave it, Your Majesty,” Hob says, grinning. Nothing feels better than getting a rare laugh out of Dream.

Mirth sparkles in Dream’s eyes. “I will take it,” he says, turning his head to kiss Hob’s palm, “of course. When you offer me haven and defense both, how can I not?”

Hob presses his kissed palm back to Dream’s cheek, over the dark bruise there, watching it start to fade. “Bring me your bruises, darling,” he says, “and I’ll protect you.”

Dream leans back in, and rests his forehead against Hob’s. He doesn’t need to ask for another hug. Hob just wraps his arms around him, and lets Dream’s contented sigh be its own question, and answer, at once.

#'you've written about dream manifesting physical injuries to reflect his emotional turmoil before' and i will again!#dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my writing #one short wip finished 5 billion wips to go

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blurboki · 9 months

Text

no one talk to me bc changbin would be the sweetest thing ever being your first time i’m going to ugly sob, happy birthday to my favoritest most talented boy <3

he’d talk to you for a long time beforehand, asking about what you’re nervous about and any questions (not as if he had a ton of experience, but more than you at least).

changbin would be so attentive, absolutely infatuated with you and your body — how you react to his touch, eyelids fluttering shut with the most angelic blissful look overtaking your features. he’s obsessed.

he’d trail down your body, basically molding you into his touch while helping you relax, licking his lips as he watched your fingers curl inside you when you assured him you didn’t want him doing all the work for him and could prep yourself.

“shit, shit! it hurts fuck-“ you hiss at the stretch, feeling your eyes begin to water. he can’t go much slower or gentler at that (which you’re very thankful for), but man does it hurt like a bitch.

“i know baby, don’t cry. you’re doing so well, just a little more, hm?” he kisses your cheek, connecting his forehead with your own as you shakily nod. with that he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, big fingers lifting up your thighs to bottom out.

he stills there, making sure you’re alright while you adjust to him.

god. the gravelly sound he let out didn’t give justice to how heavenly you felt.

“bi..binnie— it’s so much.” you whisper, and he nearly whines. the things you do to him.

you’re trembling and he’s overwhelmed with how ethereal you are, how badly he wants to see the faces you make when you cum, your breathlessness when you kiss while he’s inside of you. no, he’ll be patient. he knows this is special.

slowly, once he gets the go-ahead, he gives an experimental roll of his hips, your arms loosely hanging around his neck.

automatically, your breath hitches, all earlier pain dissolving into nothing but mind-numbing pleasure spreading throughout your entire body.

“listen to you, feelin’ good?” he grins cheekily, referring to your needy cries and the heavy squelch of your bodies connecting, evidence of how amazing he’s making your feel. changbin fucks harder than he does fast, taking his time. it makes you feel like he swallows you hole, never a spot he hasn’t filled in your pussy with his fat cock.

“so good, so good, binnie, more, please more.” although, despite your obvious desperation, he—so kindly compared to the situation—smiles down at you, leaving a chaste peck on your swollen lips.

you feel good because of him, you want more of him, he’s your first time. his heart feels so fuzzy.

he gives you more, of course he does. in fact, he gives you everything, mapping out the specific places that make your toes curl and your moans turn into keens to secure the best he can give you.

“i’m gonna give you whatever you want, so let go, i’ve got you.” he urges, kissing the side of your lips as your mouth hangs open with a silent scream, wincing at the tightness of your spasming cunt fluttering around him before he pulled out to paint your stomach white.

you’re heaving, he’s heaving, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and leaning down to check in on your barely-there expression.

“are you tired, love?” he hums, cracking a soft smile upon watching your sleepy nod. your mouth opens halfway and he oh-so-kindly patiently waits for you to speak, gazing down at you like you’re the most precious thing in the universe.

“thank you, ‘love you.”

that was the first time you’d said that to each other, and after changbin had gotten through the stunned-to-silence part, he responded the same, positively alight with happiness.

“i love you, so much.”

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ghouljams · 3 months

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*stares into the distance as it fucking snows for me outside*

Thinking about fae!price rn. I wanna chew on him. Badly.

It's snowing here too! The snow always feels like it's drowning out every other color in the world, muting and muffling everything into a soft grey. Inescapable. Consumptive.

Laying in bed with you is such a simple pleasure. Price is an early riser, never one to sleep when his tethers hum and pull at him to work, to collect. It isn't easy to relax when the winter's cold follows him. Something always needs doing. He takes his pleasure, his relaxation, where he can.

He brushes his fingers over your cheek, lets his skin just barely touch yours. Your heat follows him, your breath even and steady. For having such a tie to the sun you certainly sleep late. Or maybe that's just from having him in bed with you. Your fingers curl against his chest, your hair spilled against the pillows as you tangle your legs with his, cuddled close and comfortable against the chill he fills the room with. Nothing he's ever done in his life was good, there's no merit to the debts he collects, no pain he hasn't caused someone. Yet you love him, you open your arms to him and welcome him into your bed.

Two people who never should have taken to each other.

Price takes in your warmth, admires your soft edges, does his best not to wake you as he traces your features. Each curve so delicately maintained by blood and bone, things he knows well but could never hope to force into your shape. Not with the same masterful hand that crafted you. He couldn't hope to know the swoop of your lashes, or the plush of your lips, could map every inch of your skin and still marvel at it.

You don't ask him to be anything different, don't fret drawing the devil in your hand. Maybe it's his penance, to find someone that makes him want to be better, to feel the tired blink of your lashes like the twist of a knife.

"Did I wake you, Sweetheart?" He asks, keeping his voice low. You close your eyes and press your face to his neck, your lips pushing against his throat gently. He wishes you'd bite him, that your teeth would rend flesh from bone, take the misery he surely was damned to. You never do.

"No," You murmur, your breath skating warm over his skin, "should be getting up anyway."

"Just a little longer," Price entreats, wrapping his arms around you, you hum and he tilts his head to kiss your forehead, "then I'll let you go."

"What's got you so sentimental?" You ask, your smile curving against his pulse. He doesn't know. Time, maybe. Finally having something he didn't know he wanted, didn't know he needed. Finding a home that feels like home, a person that stands on their own two feet without him and still holds his hand like they need the support.

"It's snowing," He says instead.

"You hate the snow."

"I know," He presses his lips to your forehead again, keeps them there as he watches the window, the soft morning light, the blanket of snow, "but you don't."

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licorice-tea · 3 months

Text

Could I Be Loved By You? Pt. 2

Pairing: Monkey D. Luffy x reader, Usopp x reader, Nami x reader (separate)

Content: some suggestive jokes in usopp’s part, just general silliness besides that!

Word Count: 0.9k (total)

A/N: first time writing for all three of these characters- say whatttt! usopp’s part is my fave, but i love all of them!!! also if you check my master list for more content or anything, just know that im working on making it looks more aesthetically pleasing (it’s a mess right now😓) anyway thanks for reading and enjoy <3

Part 1

What happens when you ask them; “Do you think we’re together in every universe?”

Nami - 0.2k

With a singsongy voice, you announce your presence to Nami. “Babe!”

“Y/n!” She responds in a similar cadence. However, she doesn’t look up from drawing her map.

You round her desk so that you’re standing behind it, and she finishes off a line before setting down her pen. “What’s up?”

“I have a question for you.”

“Mhm…?”

“Ok. Don’t laugh.”

“I won’t laugh at you, babe.” Well, she might, but only out of endearment.

“So… Um, do you think that we would be together in every universe?”

Her lips, once pressed together in a resting expression, curve upwards. The shake of her shoulders is an unmistakable sign of held back laughter, which is only solidified by her hand covering her mouth.

“Hey! You said you wouldn’t laugh!” But in all fairness, you’re smiling too. It’s a silly sort of question.

“I’m not, I’m not!” She defends herself through giggles, then clears her throat.

“So, do you think so or not?”

Nami taps her chin with a smirk. “Yes. Yes I do.” The faintest blush colors her cheeks, though she’s much too proud to ever admit to being flustered by the idea. To think; you want to be with her just as badly as she does you, in any every lifetime or world where the two of you coexist. It’s enough to make even her swoon.

“Awww, so you do love me!” You tease. Your next course of action is to run out the door before she can (lovingly) hurl a book at you.

Monkey D. Luffy - 0.3k

You and Luffy are the last crewmates left at the table. Neither of you were late to dinner, nor were you ever. No, you had arrived to the dining room on time (even a little early), but he is still on his 3rd main course. Meanwhile, you are a slow eater. It’s no bother, though; you’d take almost any opportunity to spend time alone with Luffy.

With a soft smile, you tilt your head as you watch your boyfriend and captain stuff his face.

He pauses, noticing your staring. “What? Something on my face?” He licks his lips.

You shake your head. “I was just thinking.”

“Oh, ‘bout what?”

“Do you think we’re like this in every universe?”

“Like what? Still hungry? I know I am!”

“No,” you giggle, “I mean like… in love. A couple.”

This time, Luffy is the one to giggle at your curiosity. “What a weird question, y/n.” He cracks his blinding grin at you. “Of course we are.”

Luffy proceeds to stretch one arm around the back of your chair and pulls it closer to his. The proximity allows you to lay your head on his shoulder, and now everything feels right with the world…

Still, the “what if” scenario runs rampant in your imagination. “But if there is a world where we aren’t-“

“Just means we haven’t met yet.”

“… Hm. I guess you’re right.”

“Yeah, and I found you this time, right? So, I always will.” He says it all like it’s some simple, known truth. As if there are no doubts in his mind- nor should there be in yours- that you’re meant to be together. It’s not surprising though, given Luffy’s view on his own destiny. Naturally, yours is part of his, and vice versa.

With a simper, you swipe your thumb over the corner of his lips to brush away a crumb. “Or maybe I’ll find you.”

Usopp - 0.4k

You and Usopp like to play this sort of game where you ask each other questions. Sometimes they’re deep and introspective, others silly and random. It’s not really a game, per say, but… Well, it’s a fun little thing for when you’ve exhausted other topics of conversation or both of you are bored of other, cleverer topics.

“Ok, favorite temperature?”

“Favorite temperature? That's so specific!”

He chuckles. “Thats the point, baby.”

You hum in agreement before responding. “True… 74 degrees.”

“Celsius, or fahrenheit?”

“…Usopp.” You deadpan. “74 degree celsius would be, like…”

“Around 165 degrees fahrenheit.” He grins proudly. How some people, such as your boyfriend, are such naturals at mental math, you would never understand.

“Hmph… if you say so. But, yeah, why would I say my favorite temperature is 165 degrees fahrenheit?”

Usopp shrugs, “I wouldn’t put it past you; I know you like things hot.”

You’re too caught up in the way he leans toward you teasingly to notice his arms snaking around your waist. Without warning, he pulls you close to his chest. You shriek as Usopp spins you around, but your arms remain looped around his shoulders even after he sets you down.

“That was a dirty trick.”

“I think you enjoyed it.”

And you did, so you just smile and accept defeat. It’s your turn to ask a question now. “Do you think we’d be together in every universe?”

His smile falters. “I… Well, I don’t know.”

“…Oh.”

“I want to be, of course, I just…”

“Just what?”

“You have so many choices, y/n. Who’s to say you’d always choose me? I definitely wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t, in this hypothetical alternate-“

Your lips stop his from moving with a forceful kiss. They linger there, just for a few moments, before you pull back less than an inch away. “Don’t talk like that.”

“Sorry.”

“And don’t apologize. I’d always choose you, Usopp, no matter what.”

His confidence grows back, along with his smile. “Then yes,” Usopp places another small peck to your lips and pulls away to gauge your reaction, “I think we would be together in every universe.”

Your eyes seem to shine with some emotion that could only be described as love. “Just what I wanted to hear.”

#fanfic #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece x you #x reader #nami x reader #cat burglar nami #luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy #straw hat luffy #usopp x reader #god usopp #straw hats #straw hat pirates #straw hats x reader #fluff

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salty-says · 4 months

Text

Zosan x Reader silly little Drabble

Synopsis: Law makes reader and Sanji switch bodies. Zoro gets all lovey dovey on Sanji in reader’s body.

Luffy was jumping up and down over the news of a possible island that had funky gravity and could make you float. He wanted to visit it but the only way he could get there is if he got a map on some random island called Floria that kept it a secret.

Y/N was out on the deck as Luffy began to whine about how badly he wanted to go. She laughed and asked him more about his woes. When he mentioned the island of Floria she froze. Memories began to resurface.

A few years back she visited Floria. It was known for it’s peace and unity. She stopped by there as it was on her course and was intrigued by the history it held and the overall environment. However, one night she got too drunk and began to reek havoc on the quaint village. She of course regrets the incident but her face is plastered all over the island.

“I’ve been to that island.” She says plainly.

Luffy’s eyes light up and he begins to jump up in down in front of her, “Do you know about the map?”

Y/N bit her lip slightly and nodded, “Yeah. When I was there I learned about the tale of the space island. The island is similar to that of Jaya as it holds profound history and secrets.”

Luffy ran around the deck, “So cool! So cool! We must go! You can get the map for us then.”

Y/N deadpanned, “Absolutely not Luffy.”

“Hah?? Why not?” He whined.

Y/N pauses for a second, “Let’s just say I’m not very welcome there anymore.”

Usopp at this point made his presence known, “Ohoo Y/N, did you do something bad?” He teased.

“Shut up long nose! It’s none of your business!” She retorted and shot Usopp a death glare which shut him up. “Besides, we can still go. I’m just not going to step foot on the island”

“But that will make everything harrderr. I want to go to the space island now.”

“Too bad Luffy,” Y/N rolled her eyes and began to make her way to the galley.

Usopp held his hand to his chin in thought, “Oo! What if we get that Law guy to have Y/N switch bodies with someone so that she can go on the island without any problems?!”

Luffy smiled wildley, “Wow Usoppu, that’s a great idea! Why don’t you just switch bodies with someone yeah!!”

Y/N’s eye twitched at the idea.

•

“Why Sanji?! He’s just going to be all weird in my body!”

“Oooo Y/N-Chwan~ I’ll only admire it,” Sanji said with heart eyes.

Y/N grimaced and bonked Sanji over the head.

“Well Sanji doesn’t need to go on this mission and he can stay and watch the ship. Everyone else has a duty they need to fulfill on the island,” Nami said.

“Why can’t I switch with you Nami? What are you doing?” Y/N complained.

Nami smiled and brushed her hair back, “I am going to go gamble.”

“Are you serious?!” Y/N exclaimed.

“Look, we need more berries for our next trip out anyway.”

Y/N sighed, “I’m not going to win this battle.”

Sanji only smiled in excitement.

•

Being in Sanji’s body was weird for Y/N. Her hands felt very soft but her feet and legs ached. She pursed her lips as she made her way into the familiar ruins with Robin, Luffy, and Law.

“From what I remember the walls on the left side hold inscriptions of where the map is located.”

Robin smiled and went to glance over at the ruins to decipher. Putting her hand along the engravings she said, “It seems as though there is an underground tunnel that leads to where the map is.”

Y/N just nodded her head as Luffy began to jump in excitement.

•

While everyone else was doing their own thing, Zoro busied himself in town looking for some sword sharpeners and polishes.

Wandering around alone was not a good idea for him as he traveled around the town loving for a sword shop but couldn’t find one by dark. He huffed and started heading back to where the water was so he could hopefully find the ship.

He was exhausted as his brain became fried from trying to remember directions all day and as the Sunny came into view a sigh of relief came out of his mouth.

He couldn’t wait to get back on the ship and fall asleep and go looking again the next day. Maybe he would luck out and even find a bar to get a drink.

As he got back on the deck he noticed movement in the galley and he went to investigate. When he opened the door further he saw Y/N cooking up a meal.

Confused as to why his girlfriend was cooking when it was Sanji’s job really irritated him. How dare that lazy bum make his girlfriend cook.

“Oi. Just what are you doin’?”

Sanji in Y/N’s body turned to face him confused, “Hah?”

“That stupid cook should be the one making you food.” Zoro continued to walk up to him.

Sanji gritted his teeth, “The hell are ya playin at Mosshead?”

Zoro furrowed his brows, “First you’re cookin’ and now you’re calling me Mosshead? Y/N you’ve been spending too much time with that stupid cook ya know.”

“You idiot!” Sanji began to raise his leg to kick him but Zoro caught it and held onto it as if rested on his shoulder.

“Even fighting like him, sweetheart. You truly are spending too much time with him. Guess I’ll have to show him who’s yours,” Zoro smirked and grabbed Sanji’s cheek pulling him in closer.

Sanji’s eyes widened as he began to try and kick Zoro with his other leg but alas due to Y/N’s not as flexible body it was no use.

Zoro put Sanji’s leg down and then wrapped his arms around his waist. He began to lean in and Sanji’s heart rate picked up. Was this really happening.

Zoro’s lips finally met his in a quick peck before it became a little more passionate. Sanji involuntarily moaned into the kiss and tangled his hands in Zoro’s hair.

Zoro smirked as Sanji let out a little moan as they kissed. Sanji pulled him closer and the kiss lasted for a minute before the rusted gears in Zoro’s brain turned and his eyes flew open pushing Sanji away.

“What the hell?” Sanji exclaimed.

“Y-You’re not Y/N!” Zoro gave him a look of horror.

Sanji rolled his eyes, “Looks like the moss in your brain died and you finally saw the light. You truly are so stupid.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god. I kissed the cook. But I also kissed Y/N? Is this cheating?!” Zoro began to panic.

“Get a grip Marimo,” Sanji took out a cigarette and began to light it before Zoro approached him and took it out of his mouth.

“Please don’t destroy her lungs.”

“Fine. Fine.” Sanji shrugged and turned back to making food.

“So. You’re not going to say anything else?” Zoro questioned nervously.

Sanji pauses for a moment, “I don’t even know what to say anymore. I’m a little dazed.”

Zoro smirked a bit, “Do I really kiss that well Dartbrow?”

Sanji gritted his teeth, “Shut up shitty swordsman.”

#one piece #zosan #one piece sanji #one piece x reader #sanji x reader #one piece zosan #zosan x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x reader x sanji

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angelltheninth · 1 year

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Sub!Simon Riley x dom!reader + mommy kink pls?👉👈

I don't wrote mommy kink but I can write the dom/sub dynamic you're asking for.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, dom/sub dynamics, begging, edging, creampie, clit stimulation, body worship, sub!Simon, dom!Reader, pussydrunk Simon

A/N: Simon looks like someone who'd be very eager to please and listen.

Despite him being dominating on the battlefield, and very imposing to other a lot of the other soldiers Simon can't find it in himself to oppose you in the bedroom

Actually having someone in charge of him is a welcome change

He doesn't always want to be dominat one, sometimes he enjoys letting someone else take charge

He will drop on his knees for you and let you explore and map his body, taking notes of any new scars he might have gained after which you kiss every one of them

Before he met you he always sought a very quick release as he was never sure how much time he had before being called for the next mission

However now he takes a lot of pride in how long he's able to hold out for you, even if you're constantly stimulating his cock with your mouth, hand, breasts or even your pussy he knows not to come before you tell him he can

You often get him as hard as possible and then leave him hard while you sit on his face and ride his tongue to your orgasm

Hearing you moan his name while bucking so wildly on top of him makes him want to come so badly that by the time you start to come down from your first orgasm he's grabbing hold of your thighs and pulls you back down to eat you all over again, so needy for more of your pussy that he doesn't care how he gets it, how you're giving it to him

You never leave him hard all night, but sure as hell take your time getting down to his cock, stopping to trace his scars with your tongue while circling his nipples to full hardness as well

He's full on begging, grunting, desperately humping against your folds and clit, getting any friction he can

His cock is so damn sensitive by the time you put it in your pussyhole, he's gripping your hips tight, leaving thick handprints as he tries to keep still and let you ride him

Your hands never leave his muscular body, always somewhere on him, on his abs, scratching down, feeling them flex, using them to keep yourself balanced on top of him as you slam down on his cock

You tell him to look, look how his cock is enveloped by your cunt over and over, how damn wet it is

That wetness is all for him, all because of him and make sure he knows it

You make sure that he never takes his eyes off you as he comes and fills you up, as his cock is covered in his cum while you impale yourself on it one final time and throw your head back in pleasure

As you fall forward and his cock slips out there so much cum flowing from your hole

Being the good boyfriend he is he offers to clean you up in the bathroom, of course he also carries you there and back to the bed all the while the two of you trade kisses and loving whispers and jokes

He is a very big cuddler so you can expect cuddles every morning, noon and night that he's home regardless if you fuck his brains out or not, but the post sex cuddles feel so soft because he falls asleep so easily after

#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #call of duty x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley fic #cod x reader #cod

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prettyboysdontlookatexplosions · 27 days

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because this has been on my mind wrapping up the epilogue, here is a little story about how writing fanfiction for very silly sometimes awesome sometimes genuinely terrible SYFY show the magicians changed my life for real.

i started writing help, i’m alive in may 2020. as i have stated many times on this blog, the overarching goal from which this story sprung was my passionate desire to give quentin coldwater each and every last thing he deserved: i wanted to follow him all the way through a downward spiral, and then i wanted to figure out what it would take for him to climb out of the darkness and make it to somewhere he actually wanted to be. the first part of that, the part that became damage control, was some of the easiest writing i’ve ever done, even accounting for the hours spent google mapping the most depressing road trip of all time. the second part was harder, and not just because it wound up being more than four times as long (lmao). it was thornier; there were more threads to weave through; and, frankly, quentin was so fucked up that it took a lot of effort even to outline what it was he needed in order to change. i had written one story already in which the pivot happened entirely internally, an act of self-forgiveness that proved transformational, and i knew that this time i needed to give him more: actual wants, actual actions, an actual life, with actual ties not just to the people already in his circle but to the world beyond. once i had that outline, the first four chapters flowed pretty easily, anchored by the goal of hitting the story’s first big win, which is when quentin finds a way to fix something for the first time since his magic broke; chapter five was where i got stuck.

by that point, it was fall. i had quit my teaching job mid-pandemic with some modest savings, no back-up plan, and a growing realization that after five years in the classroom, teaching was no longer something i could see myself returning to; working obsessively on this story was, among other things, a great way to quiet the constant humming freak-out of what the fuck i was going to do with my life. in october doing some jump squats after sitting in bed all day i threw my back out so badly i couldn’t walk to the bathroom unassisted and paid a hundred dollars to talk to a telehealth doctor for fifteen minutes for some muscle relaxants. the pain sucked, but so did not knowing whether i was going to be better by election day — i’d signed up to be a poll worker, and i really could have used the money.

i’d started dipping my toe in some local volunteer stuff when i quit, but it was during this time that i signed up for the first time for a particular project i was really excited about joining. i did the zoom training with my camera off because my back still hurt too much to sit up; the follow-up involved scanning and emailing some personal documents and signed agreements. i didn’t do it the next day because, whatever, my back fucking hurt; i didn’t do it the day after that because…? and then, well — then i started feeling like i had missed my chance, and it was too late now.

now, here’s the thing: i say feeling like because by this point i had learned enough about the world that i knew — like, knew — that, objectively, taking a few days to send an email (during a pandemic, while i was having previously established health issues) is not considered by most people to be an unforgivable crime. i knew that i should still send the email. and i also had learned enough about myself that i could actually recognize the thing happening in my brain as an example of the kind of overly self-protective mechanisms in which i have many years of practice; i knew by then that i was an absolute expert at finding reasons to not do things that felt like they were based in truth but were really just cleverly disguised manifestations of fear, because if you do things then bad things might happen, but if you don’t do things then nothing bad happens, except that you ruin your own life. i knew all of this!! i could diagnose and analyze exactly how i was once again perpetuating the same anxiety-driven patterns that had governed so much of my life. i was conscious of the workings of my own unconscious. but i still couldn’t bring myself to send the fucking email. instead i was spending 16 hours a day alternately lying in bed and gingerly pacing in my apartment to regain mobility, feeling like shit about the fact that i wasn’t sending the email and also trying fruitlessly to unpack whatever was going on in chapter five.

the election came five days into this mess, and i did feel well enough to go work the polls. this was a great way to experience election 2020, by the way; i had to leave my apartment at like 3:30 in the morning and by the time the returns started coming in i was too delirious to have any emotions about them whatsoever. it was also, not to be a shill for electoral politics, genuinely kind of inspiring: all these people lining up to Do Democracy, the deployment of translators to assist across languages, the columbia undergrad from the neighborhood we were in i was paired with at the info desk who told me he wanted to go into politics and said very seriously, upon hearing i had a friend in the grad school there, “you should tell them to join the union.” plus, you know, the high of doing something, surrounded by other human beings, at a time when that sort of thing had been in short order for the work-from-home crowd for months, and i personally had recently been confined to my bed for several days.

leaving the site that night, entering my twentieth consecutive hour awake, i felt this weird mix of spiritually rejuvenated and psychologically worse. i had just lived through this physical proof of how doing things is both not that scary and kind of awesome, i had spent a day living in alignment with the kind of person i wanted to be, i felt a fresh rush of love for my city and its people — and i still couldn’t imagine sending the fucking email! it was like i was looking at the thing i wanted most through a pane of glass, and the glass was actually really easy to break, so the only thing stopping me was that i was too much of a baby to do it.

and the thought that i had then, i fucking swear, was: i would be such a fucking hypocrite if i wrote quentin coldwater into a happy ending i’m too cowardly to give myself.

which is, first of all: SOOOOOOOO corny, like omg. unbelievably cringe. embarrassing as hell. but it was also my truth at that moment in time. i had no faith in my own ability to change, but i had spent five months and counting thinking about almost nothing else except the story i was writing in which quentin also has no faith in his ability to change but is brave enough to do it anyway, and i really felt like — i could not live with myself putting these ideas out into the world and refusing to integrate them into my own life. i could not write this promise that something better was possible for quentin if i wasn’t even going to try to make it possible for me. i could, apparently, live forever with my constant self-sabotage, but i couldn’t live with myself making this story a lie (this story being, again, fanfiction for a TV show that was, at its best, so great, and also, at its worst, so, SO stupid).

and like… that worked. i emailed the documents the next day; i attended my first monthly zoom meeting that weekend, during which the election was officially called, which felt like a good omen. i summoned the idea that had presented itself to me that night — don’t be a hypocrite! do what you would want quentin to do! — again a while later when my email got lost in the shuffle and i had to send a check-in following up, and again every other time something came up where my fear had to war it out with my desire. (or, well, most other times — it's a work in progress, and yes, i do still find myself calling upon this logic to this day.)

my life now looks more like the happy ending i wrote quentin into than it did almost four years ago, when i started this story, or even three years ago, when i finished it. it looks more like that future than i ever imagined my life could look when i was writing it, and not just because, as i have mentioned before, a few weeks after my election night revelation, i did do as quentin did and befriend a community-minded extrovert who invited me to join a book club. even the fact that the final part of the epilogue has taken me so much longer than expected is a funny case of life imitating art, because while i have had work and illness and travel and general life stress, i have also had many days in the past few months where i was not very productive because i was simply too busy doing something fun — the kind of never-quite-solved balancing act quentin was set to deal with in the epilogue back when i first started kicking it around, well over two years ago at this point, but which was not really applicable to my own life until basically now. and it sounds even to my own ears so, so, so insane to say this, but it’s true: i can trace every aspect of that shift to the fact that i wrote this story, and that writing it fundamentally changed something inside me for the better. (shout-out to the people in the comments who noted that the story was, in a meta sense, my own version of quentin’s coffee maker; i knew you were right, but i don’t think i knew how right until this recent bout of reflection.)

i don't really know that there's a take-away here, because "quit your job and write four hundred thousand words about a weird TV show with a niche audience" is not exactly universally applicable advice. but if i were to try to find one, i think it would be something like: i felt really crazy and kind of embarrassed the entire time i was writing this story, not because i was writing fanfiction, or because it was incredibly horny and wildly self-indulgent, but because it mattered to me so, so deeply. it was one thing to have a fun goofy hobby, even a fun goofy hobby i took semi-seriously and poured a lot of time and effort into, but it was another to actually, like, care, and to care a lot, which i did. but if i hadn't accepted that this story mattered to me, i don't think it could have been as personally transformational as it wound up becoming. the heart wants what it wants, and you're only going to find out what that is if you're willing to listen to whatever rhythm it beats.

i solved chapter five on the way home from the poll site, by the way. i knew there needed to be some problem with quentin’s first semi-successful attempt to mend the coffee maker, but i couldn’t figure out how it tied in thematically with where he was in his life. on the bus it hit me: quentin and the coffee maker were both trying to remain unbreakable. an appealing idea if you’ve been broken, but one more conducive to stagnancy than to growth; you can stay there for a while, but eventually you need to let yourself want more.

#writing tag #the magicians #isabel 2k24

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flamingpudding · 7 months

Text

Fictober23 Prompt: 11 - "You lost it, Well, we lost it."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: G

Warnings: -

A/N: Ties to this Post, but can be read independently, or at least I hope. I am bad at judging these kind of things.

"Daniel." Damian hissed looking over his shoulder at the floating presence next to him. 'Daniel' had his back turned to him, arms crossed and was clearly pouting. The preteen's right eye twitched.

"Daniel, look at me." Really was this the others reaction to getting told to shut up after he had rambled a good while about his oldest brother and causing them to lose the artifact they had just acquired?

"My name is not Daniel."

"For such an old being, you are being childish." Damian huffed back, having had this kind of argument before with Daniel, well Danny as the ghost - spirit - his past life's soul or whatever he should call him, insisted.

"And you are not childish enough. You are what? 11? 12? Be a kid and live more!" Danny turned around, throwing his arms out while doing a twirl in the air. Damian watched how the other's hands lit up green and he let sparks fly, imitating a firework.

"We do not have time for this." Damian huffed instead, turning his focus back to their surroundings.

"If not now, when then?" Danny retorted, floating next to his shoulder again, looking at the map Damian had laid out on the ground, several areas were already crossed out and the boy was tapping with a pencil against the paper.

"We wouldn't be in this situation if you hadn't distracted me before, with facts that I did not need to know."

"Excuse me? I find the fact that I figured out who Dash got reborn as very important! Like do you know how badly I want to go to Clockwork and beg him to sent be back in time just so I could see his face if I told him? That's something you should be looking forward to with how interested you had been about some of the others. Ancients! Dan would laugh even more if I told him!"

Standing up and dusting his pants Damian crossed his arms staring unimpressed at the now rambling ghost. Now going on and on about the fact that since they were tied together, he would get dragged along and prove that Danny wasn't lying to his former bully about having become a super protective and wacky older brother.

Pinching the bridge of his nose Damian, felt like he could relate to his fathers a bit more now. "Daniel."

"Just image the face he would make and…"

"Daniel."

"....of course it would be hard to prove but since we can't get more than 20 ft distance you would…"

"....Daniel James Fenton."

"...once we are there I could also show you how Dad and Mom used to be and…"

"... Daniel Phanom."

"... you could help me figure out who Vlad was reborn as once you saw past him. I am still…"

Damian sighed, glaring at the still rambling Ancient of Balance, Ghost King or whatever other title the ghost had acquired. "Danny."

In an instant Danny's head snapped to Damian with stars in his eye. "DAMI! You called me Danny!"

His eye twitched and he suppressed whatever he wanted to return right now and opted to only click his tongue. "Oh right, we got a job to do! We gotta find that artifact, we had researched."

The younger turned his unimpressed stare into a glare. "You mean the artifact we had, previously before you distracted me with your ramblings again."

"That's right! You lost it!" Danny knocked with a fisted hand against the flat of his palm in realization, smiling brightly. "That ninja guy took it, the one you said who was working for your Peepaw right?"

"Please do not call grandfather that. Besides, you distracted me. Being the only one able to see you is clearly a hindrance not an advantage as you insisted." Damian huffed back, turning his face to the side.

"Still doesn't change the fact that it got taken from you. Ergo you lost it!" Danny grinned widened, ready to tease Damian more about having lost the artifact they had painfully researched and tried to find behind their families back. Though the ghost blinked as Damian suddenly smirked up at him. "Well, we lost it. You told me once that we were supposed to be the same person until you were removed from the reincarnation cycle. But this soul magic recognizes you and me as the same. Despite you seeing me for who I am, we are bound."

"Uh…"

Damian continued to smirk. "You are essentially teasing yourself."

The two stared at each other, one smirking triumphantly the other staring in disbelief and with a gabbing mouth. Finally Danny huffed, crossing his arms and pouting as he floated cross legged next to his sort-of-but-not-reincarnation. "Don't tell Dan you outworded me again."

"I have yet to meet this 'Dan', Daniel." Damian answered easily as he uncrossed his arms and picked up the map, having decided where to go next now that Danny was no longer spouting nonsense and would be of help. He had noticed small traces of his grandfather's man that had taken the artifact from them.

"Nooooooo!" Damian only so much as inclined his head slightly into the other direction. Bracing himself for next nonsense the other would come up with only to see from the corner of his eyes how Danny dramatically fell into a horizontal floating position, acting like he was laying flat on the floor. "You are back to being all formal names! I thought we made progress!"

Damian only smirked hopping off the roof they had been on, back on track to get the artifact back. It had only been two weeks but he had become quite fond of his dramatic past self, despite the existential worries he had caused at first. Still as much as he had gotten fond of Danny, he did not want for the other to be stuck with him forever. After all, the Ghost King surely had his own duties to attend to, yet Damian wouldn't mind if the Ancient became a permanent fixture in his life.

Maybe he could even introduce him to the rest of the family, once the soul magic was resolved and he was no longer the only one able to see him.

#fictober23 #danny fenton #danny phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #crossover #dcxdp #damian wayne #Danny is the ghost king #he doesn't get reincarnated #Damian was supposed to be his reincarnation #They are bound together by some magic #Danny gets distracted whenever he finds another reincarnation #Damian is the only one able to see him #for now #after the angst they started to get along #kinda like siblings

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tokoyamisstuff · 7 months

Text

You get them a cat HC's

Featuring Mihawk, Shanks, Buggy and Kuro!

Warnings: None.

Notes: GN! Reader

A/N: I just needed to get this silly little idea out of my head!

"Oh? Well, I guess another one won't hurt."

Turns out his castle is a refuge for all kinds of animals. He's taking care of injured or abandoned beings of all sort.

Let's be honest, his personality has a lot of a feral cat as well. You find the similarities hilarious, while he still can't see it.

One time you walked in on him petting it - one of the rare occasions you ever saw him smile.

Loves when the cat sits on his lap while he's in his armchair by the fire, sipping on a glass of wine. An adorable image, and his favourite kind of self-care.

It will rub itself against his beard all the time. Who can blame it?

Needs at least one new outfit a week since the cat will always wreck the feather of his hat or scratch his leather clothes.

Talks to it with a way higher voice than usually, and yes, he does babytalk.

-><--><--><--><-

"Great idea! I actually thought about getting a mascot for the crew anyways."

This man is like a Disney Princess. Just gives off a vibe that makes an animal automatically love him.

Is pretty chill about standard annoying cat behavior. This pet will be misbehaving a lot since he just takes everything with a smile. Can't really be mad at all.

It will probably have a standard seat on his shoulder and loves hiding under his cape.

Always buys snacks when he's on land and even shares his meal with it.

Talks about the cat as if it's an actual person, and talks a lot. Literally his new bestie, you're almost jealous.

This animal has seen some shit. He'll definetly not go anywhere without it and do some weird party tricks when drunk.

Would protect it with his life, certainly.

Poor guy is actually a lil' bit allergic, but endures for your and it's sake.

-><--><--><--><-

"...fine. But if it goes anywhere near my stuff I'll throw it overboard!"

Will have a full blown rant about how cats are ungrateful and illoyal little shits.

Isn't actually an animal person in general. Especially cats and dogs are a little too fascinated with his nose for his liking - it looks like a toy, after all.

It follows him around despite his best efforts not to. He gets used to it quickly however and starts talking to it. It helps him get his thoughts in order, actually.

Lets you keep it in the end because this man just can't say no to any of your wishes. Won't admit it though, probably says it's because they're useful to catch mice on the ship or something.

Throws a tantrum at least once a day, especially when the cat got anywhere near his maps.

Unsuccessfully tries to teach it any tricks for them to participate in the circus.

Is often caught juggling for it and acts like the cat just happened to be there while he was practicing.

It's an open secret that he adores this animal. It's also the only one allowed to sit on his throne besides him.

-><--><--><--><-

"...what an astonishing creature, indeed."

It takes everything in this man to not drop the facade.

Wants to keep it so badly but hesistantly talks about hygiene and how the cat's presence may negatively affect Kaya's health.

He's actually the most skilled when it comes to properly train those stubborn creatures.

Anyways, he still will get scratched and hissed at. It breaks his heart.

Indulges it as good as he can. Only the best food, it's own room in the mansion and always new toys.

Always nerds out some biological or historical facts about those animals.

Loves to absentmindedly stroke it's fur whenever it sits on his lap. Looks like a Bond villain when doing so.

#one piece #buggy x reader #shanks x reader #mihawk x reader #kuro x reader #headcanons #writing #self insert #dracule mihawk #buggy d clown #shanks #captain kuro

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athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 21 days

Text

Audacity

Im not allowed to look at the new ship event map pls i cant be in here imma start barking

Rated: Explicit | Warning: Matty kinda mean but like it hot (he barely mean tbh)

The Puppeteer does not believe you even with his bare hand in your pants, fingers brushing and feeling just how much he affects you. He pushes you further against the way, his eyes narrow but it does not match the malicious voice.

“And then what?” Two fingers pushing the cloth shielding your quim to the side, “What's the next step of your plan?” God, you were not joking or lying! You are actually wet, he can feel the beginnings of it and the way you are already biting the corner of your lip to keep your voice down. Matthias only scowls because he pushes a finger inside and you wrap your arms around his neck, hiding your face in the crock of his neck— The Puppeteer is glad you cannot see now how bright his cheeks are with blush.

“Well?!” Snappy, his voice faltering a bit to sound unaffected.

“I ah wanted to ah show,” Hot puffs of air against his skin, “How badly… Need you.”

As if he does not already know, God, Matthias knows all too well how much you love him. Of course, there is still a part of him that thinks you are not that in love with him. Affectionate as you, easily smiling for others or often speaking with a particular Novelist— It irks him until you do things like this.

Could call you a whore, a hussy, and other words but he would feel guilty though you would only moan louder.

“Shh,” Slowing his pace when he put two fingers inside of your heat, “You can't be loud.” Should have just found a room to hide in and not some hallway, “Can’t you—”

“Mathias,” Needy, “Mathias.” Saying his name as you open your legs a bit wider. He hisses when your teeth bite his neck greedy to mark him as usual. His other hand lifts your leg up to hook around his waist, his finger reaching that sweet spot that makes him quickly grab and pull your hair. A yank backward to seal his lips over yours, swallowing your moans that dare to escape as you easily cum quicker than normal. The fact you were that turned on is… Mathias does not stop kissing you even as you are out of breath, dizzy, but now incredibly more needy.

“Don't stop,” Even as you ride out your orgasm you still want more, “Please, Matthias.” Getting louder.

“Damn it,” Hushing you but he knows you are not going to be quiet at this point, not when you are overstimulated and looking drunk with neediness. “Can't you at least try to be quiet?”

“Matthias.”

“I will stop.” Pulling his fingers out, though it to get his cock, out you covered your mouth trying to silence yourself just so he would not stop.

You are going to be the death of him.

Part of him, a lot of him, hates having you be quiet but given how risky this spot this is… The Puppeteer needs you just as badly as he lowers his pants and adjusts the position he has you in to slide home.

A low groan from his throat, your teeth biting into your palm.

A few seconds to bask before Matthias is moving like time is not on his side— Because it is not. The paintings on the wall move a bit as his pace is fast and rough, a mess of grabbing and shutting himself up as he fucks you. Only with you would he do something this ridiculously risky.

#idv #identity v x reader #idv x reader #identity v #identity v x you #idv puppeteer #reader insert #matthias czernin #puppeteer x you #puppeteer x reader #matthias czernin x reader #matthias czernin x you #idv x you

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taylormarieee · 9 months

Text

~Stranded~

Summary: You and Rick are on a run for supplies needed at the prison, when a herd of walkers is heading your way. You both find yourselfs stranded in a warehouse.

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 2k

Pairing: Rick Grimes X Fem!Reader

Warnings:Oral(Fem!Receiving),PiV sex, Unprotected sex, Creampie, Praise kink, Pet names(Sweetie, princess, sweetheart.),A lil sexual tension if u squint, Fingering, That's it... Enjoy!

You wake up to the sound of knocking on the wall. Startled you pull your knife and sit up only to be met with blue eyes that belong to the one and only Rick Grimes.

"Psst, hey come with me to go on a supply run." He says. "Yea sure ok." You say rubbing my palm down your face. You get dressed putting on your baggy blue jeans and your oversized Nirvana band T-shirt.

You grab your gun holster and your knife holder and wrap it around your thigh. You put a back up knife in your shoe and cover it with your jeans.

You walk out to meet Rick grabbing your bag on the way out. You say your goodbyes and walk outside the prison. You see Rick standing by the car talking to Carol.

"Ready to go?" You say walking towards the trunk. Squinting your eyes to look at Rick.

"Uhm Yea let's go. We'll talk later Carol." He says walking to the driver's seat. She nods and walks away. He starts the engine and you guys set off.

"It says to turn left here down this road." You say point at left against the windshield. You feel the car turn left and you continue staring at the map.

"Keep going straight and we should reach the warehouse on our right." You say closing the map.

You both see the big warehouse and Rick stops the car getting out. You step out the car. and. pull. out you knife as rick pulls out his gun.

"What happened to being quiet and not attractin' walkers eh?" You say chuckling. "Well I got no knife, so guns my best option." He says smiling.

"Hm, If you say so officer!" You say running towards a pole and banging your knife on it to attract any walkers inside.

After about 5 minutes of waiting only three walkers come out. One goes for Rick and the other two go for you. You grab the first one trying to stab it but you fall.

Its jaw thrashing at you wanting to take your flesh but you act quick and stab it in the head.

As you try to go for the other you hear another gunshot and its head drops next to you and blood splatters on your cheek.

Rick walks up to you and reaches for your hand to pull you up, and you gladly accept his hand. He pulls you up and you stumble a little too close to him and your noses touch.

You both stare at each other while still holding hands. You clear your throat and back away from him a bit.

"Shall we?"You awkwardly say. gesturing towards the door of the warehouse. "Uh yea yea. We should hurry anyway, any walkers nearby coulda head those shots so let's go. Ladies first!" He says smirking.

"How knight and shining armour of you!" You say laughing, walking through the doors of the warehouse.

You. both search for food,supplies,medicine, whatever you could find or get your hands on. As you both found stuff like clothes and food and even some supplies and medicine you both decided it was time to go. You guys start to exit you notice a herd of walkers coming your way. You start to panic not knowing Rick was coming up behind you.

"Hey today was a good run don't ya thi-" He was cut off to you pushing him back inside and covering his mouth so they don't see or hear you guys.

"Shh, a herd is coming. Looks like we're gonna have to lay low here for a little while, ok?" You say removing your hand from his mouth. He nods and drops his bag, and you both make yourselves comfortable.

It's been 20 minutes and the herd still hasn't left. You fiddle with your fingers while rick watches the herd. You take quick glances at him every once in awhile admiring his broad shoulders, His amazing hands and the veins protruding and flexing whenever he gripped his gun, and his luscious hair. God how badly you wanted to play in his hair.

He walks over to you and you watch as he walks over. ~God why was Rick Grimes so attractive~ You thought. "Looks like we might be here a lil while longer. So make yourself comfortable" He says smiling.

"Wow! They are really annoying, now I have to be stranded here with you." You say chuckling

"Is that really a bad thing? I kinda thought this would be fun!" He says teasingly. Smirking at you and slightly moving closer.

"No... It's not so bad." You say chuckling. "Well then good." He says smiling at you.

"Hey... Can I ask you a question?" You say, "Yea sure, what is it?"He says getting closer to you by the second.

"Are you and Michonne like... A thing?" You ask fiddling with your fingers. Ricks eyes widen and he stares at you being completely silent. You take his silence as a "You have crossed the line with this question" so you immediately start back tracking mumbling apologies.

"Rick, omg I'm sorry I didn't- i mean i wasn't trying- ugh I'm sorry for assuming. You guys probably aren't, Sorry for being nosy!" You say fastly out of embarrassment. Heat rushes to your face as a feeling of embarrassment washes over you.

"Just forget I even asked ok. I feel embarrassed, so just forget it." You say looking at your rings. Rick takes your chin in his hands and looks into your eyes. His beautiful blue eyes piercing into yours. He glances at your lips before diving in.

Your lips move smoothly together in one swift, rhythmic motion. He forces his tongue between your soft lips and moans into your mouth. Your hands go straight for his chest. He grabs you and props you up on his chest. You can feel the tent in his pants as you slowly start to grind on him.

Your soaking through your black lace panties as you pick up your speed, causing the man beneath you to groan. He holds your back and sets you down on the cold, warehouse floor. He goes straight for the button and zipper and pulls your pants on you revealing your underwear.

So needy for each other. you start to fondle with his belt and he stakes off the belt strap holding his gun. Once he removes both articles of clothing he moves towards your neck, kissing and marking you with hickeys. Your. hands go straight for his beautiful, brown curls.

You've always wanted to touch and feel his hair. Beautiful, soft locs blowing in the wind and glistening in the sunlight. His smile always glowing and lighting up any room. His bravery always mad you tingle. How he talked down to our enemies, how protective he was, he was just so attractive and he made your mind all fuzzy with dirty thoughts every time.

He runs his warm hands up and down the curves of your body, feeling and savouring every minute. He hooks his finger around your lace panties and slowly pulls them down. He removes his lips from your neck and slowly slides down to your dripping and aching cunt.

He flattens his tongue on your entrance making you whimper.

"Shhh Princess, we gotta be quiet remember? Don't want walkers knowing were here now do we?" He says smirking. All you can do is nod your head as he starts to lap up your juices. He pokes and prods his tongue at your entrance, teasing you while rubbing your clit in figure eights.

Sending shiver through out your body. You put your hand over your mouth to suppress your moans and whimpers. He feels you pulsing and continues to go faster. He adds one finger inside you and you try your very best not to scream his name right here right now.

He shove it as deep as he can as he flicks his tongue on your clit. Flicking and sucking on the little bundle of nerves making your brain fuzzy and your eyes cross. You feel your orgasm approaching fast and start to shake extremely. You close your legs around his head so hard shoving his face farther with you hands tangled in his hair.

You whine his name in a drawn out whine as you cum all over his face and fingers. He continues to lick and slurp up all your giving to him and groans in your cunt. You release his hair from your grip and open your legs for him.

He comes up to kiss you. and you can taste yourself on him. "Damn sweetheart, you taste good." He says grinning. You cover your face in your hands as heat rushes to your face.

"Don't be embarrassed sweetie, You did so well for me. Think you can be a good girl for me again?" He asks, You nod. your head removing your hands from your face. "Words baby, I need words." "Yes, Rick, I'll be a good girl for you." You say whining as he pushes. the tip of his cock at your entrance.

"Good Girl." He says before slowly shoving his whole length into your pussy. You clench around him over and over as he penetrates you.

"Damn, if you- Oh fuck- If ya keep doing that, babygirl I won't last." He groans fully bottoming out. He stops for a second to let you get adjusted before kissing you. You tap him on his shoulder signaling to him that he can move. At first he takes it slow but your whimpers and whines made his brain all fuzzy and he picks up speed.

Thrusting into you with full force making your body jolt up and down. Your moaning and whining, not even caring if the herd can hear you anymore. His thrusts become erratic and faster. He's lost his rhythm and you can tell he's gonna cum.

"Rick, cum inside me please! Oh fuck I'm gonna cum rick! Please baby!" You moan, feeling your second orgasm approach. "Planning on it baby! Oh fuck." He groans shooting his load straight into your cervix. You can feel the warm spurts of his cum shoot into you.

You moan before grabbing his neck and kissing him. He groans in your mouth and holds you. He pulls out causing a tiny whimper out of you and then just holds you next to him.

"Does that answer your question?" He asks chuckling

"Hih, what question?" You ask confused for a second. Rick laughs a bit before staying silent to let you think.

"OH! Yea, it does." You say shyly. He lets out another laugh before tapping your waist. "Looks like the herds gone, better get going." He says getting up and putting on his clothes. You get up and put.your clothes on too. You're looking for your underwear and look up to see Rick holding it for you.

You scrunch your nose and snatch them from him and he chuckles. You guys head for the car and drive off laughing and making jokes the whole way there. Nothing was awkward between you to. Runs with him became more frequent and little night makeout sessions became a hobby. You loved Rick and He loved you.

When you guys got back to the prison everyone came out asking what took so long. You two glanced at each other before you spoke up.

"Rick saved me and shot his gun atractin' a whole herd of walkers. So we had to lay low. We got enough food, clothes, medicine and water. So it was a good run." You say looking at Rick then back at the group.

The all nod their heads and help carry the supplies in the prison. "Rick!" You call out as he walks away with Judith. "Yea?" He says smiling. "Meet me in my cell tonight, yea?" You ask smiling. He nods and you walk away giggling to yourself.

Who knew being stranded at a warehouse would end with you and Rick Grimes having sex? Always first times for everything right?

I hope y'all enjoyed because I know I did! This is Fic No. 1 to my 100 follower Celebration so 2 more are on the way!

Taglist: @catt-leya @carlsdarling @rickswh0r3 @itsgrimeytime @sinsandsweetness @murdadixon @the-dixon-effect. @tied-in-a-knot. @darylscvmdumpster @rickydixky

#rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes smut #twd rick

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zalia · 4 months

Text

Experiencing Destiny 1 as a D2 player

I picked up Destiny 1 in a sale recently despite being told a lot about its problems, and honestly I'm really enjoying playing it! I feel a bit like a time traveller visiting important places and events from the past.

I also have friends who played Destiny nearly from the beginning and it's fun to go back and go 'ooooh that's what they were talking about!'. I am also very aware that if I had started playing it without already being invested, I would be having considerably less fun. (Also, being fair, much of the fun is doubtless novelty after playing *mumbletymumble* hours of D2 over the past couple of years).

But it's genuinely been really interesting from a design and narrative perspective going back to it and seeing where the story began and how things have changed and I wanted to ramble about it. Full disclosure, I have played up through the first couple of missions of The Taken King. There are also things I can't comment on such as Crucible (because getting enough players for a match has not happened yet), events (no longer happening) etc. Also haven't managed to run a raid yet but hopefully will eventually!

I will start with the bad, to get it over with. A lot of stuff here will be well known and honestly it's probably less interesting than the good/thinky stuff.

The Bad

Oh boy I have maligned D2's New Light introduction so badly since it is miles ahead of D1 just by merit of actually having one! D1 gives you the opening run through the Cosmodrome where they tell you what buttons to use and then refuses to explain anything ever again. (This very definitely ties into it being a game I enjoy now but would probably not have enjoyed if I wasn't already invested)

You don't realise how many QoL improvements D2 has until you have to go to orbit and select a new destination every single time. Also no fast travel points. And no you cannot just look at a map of the place you're traversing. Fashion is difficult too.

Up until Taken King, I am not sure why they bothered hiring voice actors for anyone except Ghost, Elsie Bray, and maybe the Speaker. And I have no idea why they hired Bill Nighy for that part (I mean I do, it's because they wanted to use Big Names for marketing but still...). The Vanguard could easily be replaced with cardboard cutouts because they are basically uninvolved in anything until Taken King begins. I know they aren't involved in every seasonal plot now, but they do appear and develop.

The story and writing is... well, it makes an attempt to exist. It does not succeed until The Taken King. I went in knowing what happens in the story and I'm still not actually sure what happens in the story because it is basically someone's pre-first draft bullet points of a narrative. The only reason I knew I was starting different storylines is because the mission popup tells you which storyline it is. 'I don't have time to explain why I don't have time to explain' is a meme for a reason, but another bit which I think illustrates the point well is from House of Wolves. Petra tells you that Skolas has entered the Vault of Glass and this is bad so you need to stop him. It is never explained before then what the Vault of Glass is, what it does, why it would be bad for Skolas to be in there, or... anything. While D2 can be obtuse, and sometimes leaves important info in easily overlooked lore tabs (or in vaulted content), it at least tries to tell you what the story is. I feel like D1 actively resents that players do not read the bullet points and fill in everything the writers had in their heads. Another example is the Devil's Lair strike. it's the first one you take on in D1, and after doing it in D2, I was expecting backstory and build up. Nope, you just get sent in with nothing to really explain what is going on, who the House of Devils are, what a Servitor is... I know it had troubled development and the story got torn apart and remade very close to launch, and it really shows in the early stuff. It's a series of missions that were made and then had to be strung together with the thinnest of threads. It gets better in Taken King, but at times is still not great. You first encounter the Taken on Phobos, I think Ghost asks about what they are. I was expecting more discussion about them and what they are and how horrifying it is. But nope, they just exist now and we're all fine with that.

So. Much. Grinding. The pinnacle grind was annoying in D2, the grind to just get your light up in D1 is so much worse. You will be doing bounties desperately to try to get your rep up with the various groups just so you can actually get fragments of story and quests. You will be grinding just to level up your subclass and it takes ages.

The places you visit are very expansive - even the Cosmodrome is significantly larger - which is great when they're used well, but a lot of the time they feel very empty, there to make you play for longer to get between areas than because there is anything to do.

The Good

The game is gorgeous! I'm loving getting to see Venus and Mars and the Dreadnaught. They're beautiful environments. Everything feels very expansive which can be very cool (as above, it can also be less good). When used well, it feels like there are so many mysteries and secrets hidden in this abandoned world. There are hidden bunkers and spaces, huge Vex structures and ruined cities, tunnels burrowed beneath the Cosmodrome and the Taken King's dreadnaught. It's genuinely fun to explore (up to a point).

It does an excellent job of making you genuinely feel like it's post-apocalyptic and the existence of humanity is precarious. And you, the Guardian, are brand new and everything is trying to kill you. You don't have multiple gods stored in your vault in the form of guns! Everything feels more dangerous. For example, I think if D2 is your intro, you look back at the Great Disaster and the first Crota fireteam and go 'but how did that happen when I go onto the moon and take out ogres with a single punch? The biggest threat in the Abyss in Crota's End is falling into a pit or getting hit by a pendulum! Yeah no I get it now. In D1 you are much less powerful and it makes swarming thralls and normal enemies much more of a threat. Things feel dangerous in a way that D2 rarely manages. I'll talk about this a bit more in depth later.

By making your supers and abilities less powerful, they have weirdly made them more useful. In D2 I usually save mine for bosses since it feels like a waste to use them on normal enemies. In D1, it makes absolute sense to use your abilities basically as soon as you have them. You should absolutely use your Golden Gun on a normal Hive Knight or Fallen Vandal!

There's some great atmospheric touches. I love hearing the snippets of distorted music when I'm near a Rasputin bunker. Going into some of the ruined buildings on Mars or Venus where it's dark and suddenly seeing so many red Vex eyes staring back at you is chilling.

The opening mission of Taken King is fantastic. Genuinely creepy and the Taken in general in D1 feel much scarier and threatening than in D2.

All the different enemy factions are different colours and designs! I love that!

Weapons still go brrrrr in a very pleasing way. And getting new gear feels genuinely satisfying in a way that it rarely does in D2. I junk 99% of the armour and guns I get in D2, in D1 I end up being much more considering of whether something is useful. Legendary weapons and armour feel precious!

I keep picking up random Warmind weapons to turn into Banshee that I know lead to an exotic quest and I am enjoying the feeling of that being another Secret Thing I am discovering.

Honestly, I really like Banshee's weapon bounties - you get given a prototype weapon to test out and gather data by doing certain things (killing X number of a certain enemy etc.) and that gains you rep. And you can then order a legendary version of the weapon from him to be delivered the next Wednesday.

Thoughts/Observations

Knowing that the 'original' story was seemingly going to focus more on Rasputin, and an exo version of him getting stolen by the Hive makes the appearance of some of the Hive areas on the Moon make more sense. There's some bits that are high tech in a way that feels very at-odds with what we see of the Dreadnaught and, other Hive locations which lean much more towards the organic and magical.

Similarly, Rise of Iron feels a lot more hard sci-fi than much of what Destiny has become, and has such a huge Rasputin focus. I believe it was partially developed by an outside studio, so I do wonder if it was based, at least in part, on the 'original' story of Destiny, and was either too far into development, or the other studio just never got the memo about the change in tone.

Vaguely related to the above, but way more speculative, I wonder if Banshee was originally meant to be a Rasputin exo, then that story got shifted to Felwinter, but the seeds were used for the story of Banshee having been Clovis Bray.

Honestly while it's fun to think about, in general I find the obsession parts of the Destiny community have with 'the original story' (of the 'maybe they're finally going back to the original story!' type where the unspoken idea is that this was the perfect undiluted pure story that was 100% planned and set in stone) to be fundamentally misunderstanding how creating stories work. I can guarantee that even if that first story had been used, after 10 years of multiple writers etc. it would still be in a very different place than where the people who came up with it initially thought it would go. It would have evolved and changed and shifted, even if it was following the same vague plan. That's just what stories do.

Oh wow, suddenly all the Nightmare Hunts in Shadowkeep make way more sense! I get it now!

Actually I get a lot of references now XD

Oh wow Shaxx sounds so depressed. I guess this was before he started therapy.

So many identical caves...

Thoughts on Power Creep

D1 leans much more into the post-apocalyptic setting and it does an excellent job of making the existence of the Last City, humanity, and Guardians feel precarious. Everything seems more dangerous, more of a threat. You really are part of the last bastion of humanity. And there's a few ways this is done.

First, you are much less powerful. Yes, you have supers and grenades, but they do much less damage (and are much less flashy) than in D1. There has been a huge amount of power creep! You won't be one-shotting bosses, even normal Vanguard Strike bosses with golden gun easily.

Legendary weapons feel rare and special, and I am still using Blue weapons at times because sometimes I have to just to get the higher light level. I have reached level 40 and have only just got my first exotic armour pieces which I bought from Xur! They are FR0ST-EE5, an exotic I have never bothered with in D2, but in D1 the recharge for abilities when sprinting is genuinely handy. I don't have any exotic weapons at all yet!

It leads to a very different playstyle - I play much more carefully because I cannot just charge in with something like Osteo Striga and wipe out a room with a few shots. In D2 we have killed multiple gods, taken down an Empire, and forged alliances. In D1, we're just some random Guardian and the gameplay reflects this.

And I hate to say this, but I also kind of get the YouTube/Stream BNFs who complain about things not being hard enough. It's just... they're completely wrong about the reasons and the solutions.

They seem to think that what is needed is more enemies with higher health, and nerf Divinity because it makes it too easy, and everything should be designed to stop normal players being able to do it. And it... it doesn't work? Ghosts of the Deep was fun, but holy fuck the health bars on the enemies make it feel grindy and dragged out. Legend Avalon was a slog because there's Too Much - too many elements at the same time so it's just overwhelming instead of fun. (Starcrossed on legend is tough, but feels more enjoyable and managable. I'm looking forward to doing it again instead of dreading it).

More difficulty isn't what makes D1 feel harder, being weaker is what does this. I have no doubt that if I could put my D2 stuff against D1 enemies I would decimate them. But in D1 I am a lone Guardian with scavenged gear and yes, I have the Light and can be resurrected, and it gives me an edge vs normal humans, but not a crazy amount.

In D2 I have so many exotics and weapons that I can just throw them away. I can have intricately crafted builds to take on any enemies! I am basically one of the most powerful entities in the solar system.

And that's not something you can really scale back. They did it with Red War at the start of D2. Maybe they could do it as a result of Final Shape and do smaller stories focused on Earth and recovery and what you even do after your purpose for fighting for so long is gone (and I think there is value in those stories! I would love it personally). But uh... I don't think most people would actually be happy having everything nerfed on such a scale. Give up your 999,999 Celestial Nighthawk boss damage, for a Golden Gun that with a bit of luck might one-shot a yellowbar?

Give up a lot of creativity in terms of what you use and how you play, in exchange for a tougher game with way less choice for builds, but one that is potentially more atmospheric and in-keeping with the post-apocalypse and the dangers of the solar system?

I don't have an answer for that! And it's not even the most important thing. Gamer BNFs gonna always want to prove that they're better than everyone at pressing buttons, and forget that the majority of players are casuals. But it's been interesting playing a different type of difficulty, rather than the forced difficulty of insanely high HP and Too Many Things.

Power creep is a real issue in a lot of long-running media (just look at superhero movies, or many many monster of the week TV shows). You're in a position of feeling like you need to one-up yourself every time. Every new villain has to be the biggest and baddest, and so you have to become more and more powerful to combat that, which means the next villain has to be even bigger and badder.

With Destiny we've gone from a scrappy underdog, to a god-killer.

I'm reminded of Osiris talking about Saint in The Sundial lore.

'I watched him grow from neophyte to demi-god'.

King of fitting for us to have done the same as Saint's inspiration.

#destiny 2 #destiny 1 #destiny the game #meta #gaming #video games #my thoughts

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lilith-little-world · 9 months

Note

Hello! I absolutely love your stories and I was wondering if you are open for request? If so, can you do a lmk sun wukong x reader who is a nine tail fox? I imagine that the reader as already have all of their nine tails, so that would make the reader probably as old as wukong (because you know 1 tail = 100 years)

of course only if it is possible for you, it’s ok if you are not open for requests. Thank you and have a nice day! (Keep making amazing stories, you have a serious talent)

I am so sorry for not answering this sooner! I just got busy and then I got even more busier. Then recently I got super sick, but I guess it finally made me have enough time to write when I wasn't knocked out from the meds. But I am still taking requests, I'm just going to be quite slow. And I'm sorry if this isn't what you wanted exactly or it lacks a certain luster to it, I'm running purely on meds right now and hoping I don't get worse in sickness.

Also chapter 3 may come out a little later since I got super sick.

9th Tail Fox Reader x lmk Sun Wukong|| Oneshot

The sight of the once-flourishing city made you sigh in disappointment. It was tiring to see such good potential go to waste, especially under your watch.

You wander in your shop, restocking and organizing the place. You can’t attract desperate people if the shop doesn’t look presentable after all. The ancient and magical artifacts are displayed nicely, while some more medicinal and less magical artifacts are more at hand reach. It's a nice little shop you have been building up through the long centuries. It's good to know that no matter how badly life brings you down, a fox spirit like you always bounces right back up.

A small bell rang when someone entered through the door. Someone different…

The smell was strong and powerful, nearly knocking you out of your human form. There's only one being that could get that reaction out of you. Someone you told to never show their face to you ever again.

You turn to the door to see a ginger simian. Who waltzes right in, as if he owned the place. Checking the old artifacts, searching for something.

“Nope, get out, I am NOT getting wrapped in your messes, again.” You immediately storm your way up to him. Dropping your human act and looks.

“Hey, cool stuff you got here. I would love to check it but I'm quite busy and on a task.” He ignores your aggressive attitude and continues to look around.

“You- Didn't I say to get out? Leave! I don't want to be wrapped up in your messes again!” You kept blocking his path, shifting into a smokey fox form. However, he just dodges you and continues searching your shop.

“Tell me, do you have any, artifacts or info on someone named the Lady Bone Demon?” He sits on the counter and finally looks at you. Even though he tries to keep his lazy attitude, there was an edge to it. Ready to get serious if the moment calls for it.

You stand there for a second contemplating, staring down at him. A few more moments pass, so you can see what his intentions were exactly. Then a chuckle escapes from your throat before turning into laughter.

“You really came all the way here for something like that? Who or what lead you here to begin with? You certainly came a long way home to visit little ol’ me, after what you done.” Your smokey fox form grew in size, as it bare its fangs and growled at him. He kept his lazy attitude.

“Crazy, huh? I heard from a friend that you know a map that leads to the Lady Bone Demon's old place. It would be nice if you hand it over and forget this ever happened-”

“And why should I help you? I'm running a business here, and I need payment. Now if I were you, I'll pay up, since I'm being so generous today.” You cut him off as your face got close to his. For once his lazy attitude broke for a second, he tensed up as he leans away. Nervous and possibly a bit flustered from the sudden close approximation.

“W-well, I don't have anything on me now but I can get you something.” He mutters, before clearing his throat. Trying to regain his composure back.

“News flash, I don't want anything that isn't my tail back, that you cut off! Either you give it back or no map.” Your form shifts into a more smaller one but just large enough to tower over him. Wrapping your many tails around him, your fox face next to his ear.

“Now tell me, what will it be, Sun Wukong?”

He was silent, for once he was quiet.

“If I don't find out what she is planning soon, she’ll destroy everything. I know, you hate me after everything but we both know, if I didn't do it. The mortals in this city would have. You know how humans get, when misfortune comes, they need someone to blame. I am sorry that it had to be you, but you know I was only doing my job. So please, help me on this one.” He said while staring at the ground, his hands clutching the edge of the counter.

All you can do is stare at the sight in silence. It wasn't every day, he apologizes. However, will you actually accept his apology?

You let out a tired sigh, your smokey from jumping off the counter. Searching the shelves before landing in front of him. Back in your human form, holding a map. You tossed it at him.

“As much as I would love to have my ninth tail back, but I must say, it isn't every day the mighty Sun Wukong comes in apologizing and begging for help. Well, I guess that's a good enough payment.”

“Heh, I get it, I don't apologize and should have sooner. Then again, there weren't any balloons or cards saying ‘Sorry for cutting off your ninth tail and making you stuck being a regular fox spirit.’ Apparently, that doesn't happen much to have it be on a card.” He laughs getting off the counter. Checking out the map as he slowly exits the shop.

“Hey if my great plan does work and the world hasn't ended, want to...catch up?”

You raise a brow at him.

“Oh? Wukong, you still aren't smooth, not even after all these years.”

“Hey, I spent a few centuries on an island by myself. I’m just rusty, and don't pretend you aren't too.” It was his turn to lean close. His face is close to yours as he smirks. You were stunned, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Oh please, unlike you I had a business to run. Now go, I won't be kind enough to say it again.”

“Then is that a yes? Can we catch up?”

You close the door shut the moment you push him out. A soft chuckle left you as you turned back around to see the spot where Wukong was sitting. Though you notice something new there, it was a fluffy tail. The one you lost. A smile forms on your face.

“That cheeky monkey.”

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