#quicksilver scenario

[delusional-fantasising]

Peter Maximoff boyfriend headcanons SFW

- This man is super whipped for you and he is not a people pleaser but he hates seeing you not happy so this man will do everything for you just to have you happy

- Never ask him to cook, he will burn the house down but he will never admit it, he will go to your favourite place, order take out then put it on one of his plates acting like he cooked and plated it

- If you don't meet him in high school good luck trying to find any old pictures of himself, he will hide them all because he had a few phases in high school he's too embarrassed to show you ever. You will have better luck asking his mom for old pictures

- He lends out clothing like crazy to you, you need a shirt? He has a massive collection of band shirts. Do you need pants? The drawer is open for the picking for you. You may have to convince him to give up his prized jacket and goggles but once he sees you in it, it won't be very hard convincing him afterwards

- He loves it when you run his fingers through his hair, he just melts and has a goofy whipped smile on his face

- He will never tell you but if you ever see a claw machine and want one of the plushies, he will lead you away from the machine before making a disappearing act. One crime later and he has the plush, telling you that he is just the boss at claw machines (Total lie, he just grabbed the keys from a worker and opened the thing.)

- Understand this if you like something he will do research on it in the blink of the eye to show how much he cares about what you like. It can get a bit scary though when he knows more about your interest than you

- He had a calendar with any important information about you and he keeps track of stuff for you if you ask. Especially when he's older, despite him getting distracted easily he writes everything down because he's also forgetful

[takenbypeter]

Can I get a Peter Maximoff x Reader fic where the reader loves singing musical theater? And their mutant ability is to basically start a musical theater number whenever they want?

Just a little annoying ass theater kid who seems to like a certain annoying ass speedster kid✨

The Power Of Music

Peter Maximoff x mutant!reader

Words: 1184

Mutations. They’ve been around for longer than anyone’s ever known. Some mutants had powers that they dread. Some mutants had powers that they felt made them a freak. You on the other hand had a mutation that you adored.

You had the power of music, is what you called it. When in actuality you had the power to make any moment a musical moment.

Yes, it seemed like a useless power, I mean who would think that you could use that in an actual battle, but you’d be surprised what kind of confessions you could get by the telling of musical numbers.

While you cherished your power, there were others that found it not so endearing. Peter Maximoff was included in that latter option.

While Peter tolerated most things, he didn’t typically enjoy musicals. And although you two weren’t exactly close, somewhere along the line you’ve made it your mission to hear him sing and he obviously caught onto this.

Now he didn’t avoid you entirely, for example if you were speaking he was fine being in the same vicinity, but once you started singing that was when he was out.

And at first it did irritate him, how you’d always be on the prowl trying to get him to sing, but after a while he grew accustomed to it, even grew fond of this little game the two of you created.

Which is why he was understandably confused when he’d seen you multiple times throughout a day and not once have you burst into song.

That wasn’t like you.

In all honesty he’d like to pretend it didn’t bother him but weirdly it did.

It wasn’t until that afternoon when he found you along with a few others in one of the study rooms in the X-mansion that he was compelled to ask.

At first you were just seated around one of the chairs with Kurt and Jubilee around, and you all seemed like you were genuinely having a good conversation. But still just from observing, Peter could tell there was something off.

He took it upon himself to grab a spot beside you. With Kurt and Jubilee in their own conversation and now noticing the figure next to you, you turned to him offering him a small but genuine smile. Peter wasn’t buying it.

“What’s going on with you? I mean not that I care, it's just, you’re really starting to freak me out.”

You let out a small laugh at his concerns, “Nothing, I’m fine.” You turned your attention back to the other two who suddenly became interested in what was going on.

“Something happened. You haven’t sung all day.”

While you were a little surprised by his notice, you were more annoyed by his badgering. Standing up from your chair you uttered, “nothing happened, I’m just giving it a rest that’s all.”

And with that you left the three mutants.

“What is going on?” Peter asked under his breath, growing irritated at the lack of knowledge he gained from that interaction.

That was when Kurt spoke up, “Something did happen this morning.”

Jubilee hit Kurt’s knee as a way to tell him to shut it but Peter’s look overpowered it.

“Y/n was singing this morning and Mystique wasn’t really in the mood for it.

Jubilee chimed in, “she went off, saying ‘no one likes your singing, a mutation like that is useless other than for annoyance, you would be more likable to anyone as a human’, yeah it was bad.”

“What did Y/n say back?”

“Nothing, Y/n just stood there and took it.”

“I thought it didn’t have that much of an effect but I guess it did.”

“Well sometimes that happens I know one time it happened to me—“ Jubilee started but Peter’s mind was already somewhere else.

A whole day, you were practically going a whole day without singing.

It was nearing night time now and you were alone this time in the study room that had the fireplace. At least you were alone before Peter zoomed into the chair across from you, chocolate bar in hand.

He tossed you the other one which you had no choice but to take.

You went to open the sweet treat up before you stopped and let out a deep sigh.

“Look, I know you know what happened. And yes at first I was upset by what Mystique said but the more I thought about it the more I realized how right she is. Not about everything she said, but she’s right, me? Forcing people to sing like it’s some sort of game? That’s not fun.” Peter opened his mouth to give his two cents but you beat him to it, “But at the same time it’s not my fault I can’t even go around singing my favorite songs before someone around me is forced to join in.“

Peter sat silent allowing you to fully say your piece. Because he could sense there was more to come.

“I know my power isn’t useless, I know it’s helpful, and I love how musicals and singing makes me feel. But sometimes, I wish music was just a hobby that I was great at or even just a Broadway career, instead of it being something I force on others.”

Peter tilts his head with a nod and goes to start but you speak again, “don’t even say anything. I get it alright. She’s right. I’m annoying. At some point we all wish we didn’t have powers, I know. Just leave me here to wallow please.”

Peter would’ve argued against your claims but he figured he couldn’t say anything to make you feel better. Any words that could’ve come out of his mouth probably would’ve made it worse anyway.

But he could still tell that you were bummed and something about that didn’t sit well with him.

Maybe that’s why he found himself singing the words to one of his favorite bands.

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day.

Your ears shifted toward the new noise, your attention suddenly turned to the speedster.

You fritter and waste the hours in an off-hand way.

“What are you doing?”

Peter doesn’t even bother to answer and just continues.

Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town.

Waiting for someone or something to show you the way.

You couldn’t help the smile that was quickly pulling at your cheeks.

Tired of lying in the sunshine, staying home to watch the rain.

His voice wasn’t perfect but it was still charming on him.

And you are young and life is long, and there is time to kill today.

You hum along not wanting to ruin the scene he’s gifted you with.

And then one day you find ten years have got behind you.

No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun.

He nudges and you cave, singing along to the next few lines of Time by Pink Floyd with him. It was a small gesture from him but for you it was exactly what you needed.

[fantasticgothicpeachsludge]

Scott: Okay, two person huddle.

Pietro: You can't huddle with two people, Scott. This is just a hug.

[firelance2361]

The Silver Witch

For my first post of the New Year, here’s another What If…? art style recreation attempt, this time with a redesign of The Silver Witch version of Wanda Maximoff from the 2021 Heroes Reborn storyline.

For those confused, long story short this version of Wanda absorbed Pietro’s powers after his death at the hands of the Blur in the comics, which sent her further down the path of villainy.

Hope you like it!

[chalterdh22]

Day 14: Logan (Wolverine) in Soft - Augtickletober

Lee: Logan/Wolverine

Ler: Peter/Quicksliver

Summary:  Logan is waiting impatiently with Peter, while he buzzes around, driving him crazy.  So, Peter tries to “help” the situation, to drive him more crazy.

Warnings: This is a tickle fic, so if that’s not your thing, don’t read.  Some swearing as well.

As Logan was sitting in a recliner, waiting for Xavier to come back with information on their next move, he watched Peter play some video game he had no interest in.  Waiting, or basically patience of any kind wasn’t his strong suit, so he sat there, sipping a beer, and making huffing noises after every few minutes or so.  “What’s with all the noises?”  Peter shot back.

Before Logan could even respond, the boy sped to the kitchen and back to his seat, continuing to play games, now sipping on some soda he grabbed.  “I’m not great at just sitting here, waiting for orders.”  Logan shot back to the boy, who paused his game and turned to him slowly.  This kid, though he loved him, was driving him crazy!  He had severe ADD surely and asked too many questions.

“So, do something then!”  Peter shot back, turning back to his game.  He then slammed his soda, zipped back and forth again with some snacks now.

“Can’t you just sit still for a second?”  Logan said gruffly, now getting even more antsy. 

“Why?” 

“Because you’re driving me crazy!”

“Why?”  It was like dealing with a toddler, a big, annoying, fast toddler who could move circles around him before he could even blink.

“Ugh!”  Logan said as he stood up to stretch his arms over his head. 

“Go do some push ups or something.  Wolverine is looking a little soft if you ask me!”

“Nobody asked you, and what the hell do you mean soft?!”  Let’s be real.  He was in prime shape.  But Peter liked to mess with him too.

“Oh, how about here!”  And zoom, flew Peter and Logan felt a small poke on his side, that made him jump back.  “And here.”  Another poke.  “And here…and here…here…..”

“Stop it!  Or I’m going to tear your head off!”

“Sure, you are!  I just got five pokes in a second and you are still standing there covering your, soft spots!”  Peter was mocking him sitting back playing his game, while Logan stood there with his arms around his torso.

And just as Logan was about to get another word in the quick talking monster of a friend zipped right past him, knocking Logan back onto the chair and was circling him at lightening speed getting jabs in every spot he could reach.

Logan was not only out of control angry at this point, but had a stupid smirk on his face, and giggles started to seep through his lips.  “What’s that, are you trying to say something to me?”  He yelled over the sounds that were spewing from his mouth.

“Stoooopppp, you diiiicckkkkk!”  He was swinging with his claws out in the air, swiping at the fast-moving, fast-talking Peter.

Peter kept moving and dodging every swipe while still getting in about 5 pokes every two seconds, now taking down completely the large, older man, who was now sliding down the chair, closer to the floor.  He didn’t stand a chance at Quicksilver’s speed and now focus.  He finally stopped, and stood above Logan, as he was breathing heavily.

“You ok, old man?”  Logan looked up at him, who wasn’t hardly breathing at all.

“Ju-juusst st ttoopp kid.”  He couldn’t even look up at Peter, who was still standing over him with a smirk on his face.

“Ok, only if you admit you are soft!”  He said with an even bigger smile.  He had Logan right where he wanted him.

“Sure kid, I’m soft.  Now leave me alone!”

“Ok!”  And he went right back to playing his game as if nothing happened, as Logan sat up, red faced and finally getting his breath back. 

[mercurymessiah]

I feel like no one talks enough about how in Deadpool & Wolverine, Magneto and Quicksilver were mentioned by Gambit to be apart of the resistance group (before perishing in the fight against Cassandra). To my knowledge, it’s not confirmed that they’re the exact same versions from the Fox films, but it did spark some interest in me. The writers of the film could have chosen any other X-men characters to name drop in that scene, but ironically it’s the dadneto + quickson duo. What are the chances?

Erik and Pietro were fighting alongside each other, on the same team. For the first time, they’re forced in close proximity and have to work together, meaning companionship is inevitable. But all at a cost, unfortunately.

Were they sent to the Void together, or are they from seperate universes? Did either of them ever discover their relations to one another? What became of that relationship before their untimely end? I have so many questions that i’ll know go unanswered so I would love to write this scenario into a fic, even if the ending is inevitably sad for both of them.

It’s far from ideal circumstances, but I like to think that they found solace in one another before Cassandra killed them. It makes for a super angsty story, but not without merit.

[mimiaguilar-bansheebender]

When Jinshi finally presents MaoMao as his bride (he’s too invested to leave her as just a concubine) i would love that some more time has passed and she has had time to prove herself as a great physician’s assistant (maybe the first girl doctor a girl can dream).

Also i think it would be hilarious if the 3 princesses prepared her for the presentation and with all the makeup and a tad more grown up she looks even more like Fengxian and Lakan is a happy tearful fox cause his beautiful and intelligent wife lives on in their daughter 🥲

Also! Read my rambles about what i think the best ending for the series would be:

i think the best ending would be something like yeah they're still solving mysteries and being consulted till the end of their days. Like sure, she might get kidnapped/hurt once or twice every couple of years, but also people now know she is LaKan's daughter and KaZuigetsu's favourite so the instances have reduced significantly.

I also think that MaoMao is super necessary for Jinshi cause he would def be at an early grave without her. she needs to balance him and whack him in the head for him to take breaks and take care of himself; alternatively she also needs him to stop her from playing with smth like quicksilver, so they're even.

they can't have a happily ever after. it is not realistic with the times and with the life they lead. they can only have a fulfilling life next to each other, supporting the work they both do because they both know how much value what the other one does actually has. A key part of their partnership is that they definitely admire each other in that point! They're both extremely hardworking individuals with amazing gifts that have had to develop masks for their own safety, but they're also inherently very good people that will run themselves ragged for other and the greater good, to imagine them riding into the sunset and getting a cabin to bake bread and live lovey dovey lives would be a disservice to them.

So imagine my surprise when the author said they want to give an ending that portrayed a (life goes on) vibe and people rioted on reddit (???) like thay is such a weird thing. How can you read on and on a again about MaoMao getting happy and liking the palace life (specifically the impact and help she can provide) to the point she wanted to beg not to be fired WAAAAY at the beginning; or about Jinshi running himself ragged to the point of extreme exhaustion, weight loss and passing out from sheer fatigue, just trying to fix and help the nation. To read them all reminiscence after wards like, we were dumb dumbs but we helped a lot of people, cue happy faces and think; yeah they def need to ride into the sunset! (like ???) These babies thrive of the work they do, to cut them off is to make them feel like their worth is diminished.

Is not that they like being recognized by their work, but they like the value their work gives their life and more importantly; they like to actively make the country and the palace a better place.

So when the time comes for the light novels to finish the only thing i wanna see is LaKan being a happy mess, cause his baby girl made it.

She is what Fengxian's life should've looked like in the best scenario. Had circumstances been different for them both, he would've come back and been able to buy her out and then she would've been the menace she was meant to be as the La Lady. But again, the time and the life they both led did not allow for that. Am i saying that they would've a fairytale life if he had been able to buy her? No! Let's remember most people either fear him or want him out of the way, they is no way to guarantee no one would've plotted against her or against baby MaoMao. They had a Happy-ish ending, where she knew she had been loved and he would never look at anyone but her, but she was already weak, sick and did not live long.

So MaoMao climbing ranks as rapidly as she did (let's remember she started out as a mere servant girl and Jinshi has been pushing to even the field since he made her take that first exam) LaKan will just see a small what if. Cause to him, Fengxian lives through their baby, she is every bit as cunning and beautiful, and while they were robbed of time and a better outcome by the times and his blindness, their baby just might make it.

He will make sure she can have a happier life than him or her Mom had, because the circumstances of their romance robbed her of a happy childhood, but also made her the woman she is today.

[honeyinthesummer]

taxi — quicksilver.

nsfw. minors dni. not proofread

"Peter, let's just swoosh back home, please..."

"Dollface, you're tipsy. If we swoosh back to the mansion, the whiplash you'll get will make you forever hate me for it."

You whined at his refusal, your head falling on his chest, feeling extra impatient and lustful. You cling to him closer by wrapping your arms around his shoulder, your hands toying with the hair at the back of his head. Looking up to Peter, you can see how the moonlight defines his glorious features. Particularly those lips that seem to know the perfect thing to say at the right time, that has poured words and trailed kisses on your body in worship.

Tiptoeing, you captured Peter for a kiss, your hands cupping his face. It takes the silver man a split second to adjust before he responds to you, his arms possessively wrapped around your waist.

Angling your head, you lightly bit on Peter's lower lip, wanting more. Having caught on, he lets your tongue battle, your lips show the fervor, and your whimpers reveal your need.

Breaking it off, you immediately gift his cheek feathery kisses before whispering on his ear, your hot breath fanning against his skin.

"I swear to god. If you don't speed us back home, I'll make you take me right here and now."

You thought your not-so-threathening threat would trigger Peter to move fast, but he only stares at you, his eyes now darker, his irises flicking something wanton.

"Don't threathen me with a good time." He whispers against your lips, saying your name softly, his hand creeping up to your right boob, squeezing it harshly.

You were about to retaliate when you spot an available taxi, immediately hailing it, getting right in first and leading Peter with your intertwined hands. You waste no time telling the driver the address of the mansion before climbing over Peter's lap, kissing him once again.

Your mouth this time is demanding, and it took all of Peter's will to reject your advances. You whined loudly when he slightly pushed you away, your brows furrowed in frustration.

"We're in a goddamn cab," he says your name sternly. You wiggled on his lap, feeling bratty and pissed, but his hands were quick to settle you still, his eyes now widened as if to warn you.

"But I'm horny..." You whispered rather cutely, attempting to attract Peter, but the man was quick enough to stop you when you tried to grind again on his hard-on.

"You fucking wait," He lectures you in a low voice, the faint sound from the radio muting your conversation in this pornographic scenario. Peter may seem irritated, but you don't miss the way his cheeks flush, the way his cock twitches beneath you, how your thin mini skirt and thong being the only divider between you two.

"Wait until we get to my room. We're in public." He warns. Even if the sight of thee Quicksilver sporting a mature and disciplined facade right now is doing wonders to your cunt, you know it's time to behave when people like Peter become serious. In resign, you nodded, and his hold on your hips loosens. You don't get off though, you positioned yourself in a way that applies the most pressure on Peter's cock when you sit, then you rest your head on his shoulder.

He adjusts your mini skirt, having been so riled up your thong peeks through. And he shouldn't have done that. Oh no. Because every gentleman and possessive thing Peter does makes your brain haywire and your clit to throb.

You took his hand to your own, moving it up and down your thigh to make him think it's to soothe you, before swiftly moving it to press on your clit, your hand holding his fingers tight to make him feel your essence leaking through your panties.

"You have your jacket so I'll sit beside you and cover my legs with it. You don't think the driver will notice you finger fucking me, right? You'll do it soooo fast his vision wouldn't spot it." You sneakily whispered to Peter's ear, and you can feel the silver fox's breath hitched. A low pathetic groan escapes his lips, and you laughed at his reaction.

His hands move to your ass to give it a squeeze but you immediately took off his lap, setting beside him, right by the corner to put some gap in between you. You can see the fire in his eyes, light bead of sweats on his forehead, and the fly of his jeans struggling to contain his feelings for you. Feeling bitchy of him telling you to behave, you snaked your hand to his hard on, giving it a tight squeeze, before mouthing later.

[charmed-quill]

🌸✨ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ✨🌸

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[darklink82]

Netflix Devil May Cry review

I've taken a break from the overall discourse and replayed Devil May Cry 3 to get the bad taste out of my mouth and I've come to a realization, there are aspects of this show that could have been used to make a great Devil May Cry story...for Nero.

(Breathes in)

The Terrible Shit.

God there is so much stuff in this show that was flatly terrible to include from the outset and I'm gonna need to clear that out from discussion to move forward so...here goes.

The deliberate and blatant allegories for the Iraq War and immigration were terrible ideas and it's pretty clear that they were written by someone who was trying to be "neutral" on immigration and superficially against the Iraq War...let me explain

Immigration

The show presents the idea that many of the demons in the demon world are weak humanoids who can barely breathe the air there due to "pollution" of some kind. It also posits that all demons are descended from humans who were trapped in the demon world thousands of years ago so they are practically just cute monster people being oppressed by Mundus and the ugly and monstrous demons who are also seemingly also descended from humans too...I guess. Anyway, to get into the allegory issues, this presents an explicit scenario where some pitiable "demons" try to escape into earth for a better life and some monstrous "demons" try to sneak into earth, seemingly just to kill and maim people...I can't be the only one here who sees how fucked this is as an allegory right. To top it all off there is a scene where the barrier between the human world and the demon world is taken down and it results in a near apocalyptic massacre, which would be fine in a story that just about fighting demons but this is also a story where demons are mutants trying to escape to a better life so the allegory also becomes "open borders will result in white genocide". It's a bad allegory done badly and I couldn't stop thinking about how bad it is. ONTO THE NEXT TERRIBLE ALLEGORY

Operation Iraqi Demonic Makaian Freedom

So beyond the terrible immigration allegory they also threw in some War on Terror comparisons too....yippee. It is never subtle about this, the first episode has the president of the United States get briefed on Terrorist Demons while he complains that the last guy only had to complain about Saddam, There is a scene where the US military engages in mass murder of innocent demonic men, women, and children with machine guns and portable crematoriums, and it ends with the US military invading the demon world, killing everyone indiscriminately, and establishing private resource mining operations to the tune of American Idiot by Green Day.... and I have to be honest, it feels like all of that was justify having a scene where the US military does atrocities to the tune of American Idiot rather than to make any kind of coherent statement about anything. U.S. Military Bad may be a correct statement but what does any of this have to do with Devil May Cry?

The Bad Shit.

Dante feels like a MacGuffin in this story. He does get some of the better fight scenes but he is also constantly getting knocked out and tied up somewhere 4 times in this 8 episode season. This leaves him separated from the rest of the plot and he mostly just has cool action scenes, but little character development or connections to the themes that the story is (poorly) exploring. I also hate to sound like one of the usual suspects but he shows Quicksilver level speed early on in the story but Lady keeps being able to get the drop on him over and over and over to the point that it's just stupid.

The White Rabbit is a fun and well acted villain who is genuinely unique as far as Devil May Cry antagonists go...until he is revealed to be a human with the most bog standard "I am an ally/member of [DISCRIMINATED GROUP] but I was victimized and driven insane by the actions of [DISCRIMINATING GROUP] so now I will kill them all no matter how many [DISCRIMINATED GROUP] I have to kill along the way" type villains. He even gets a massive power boost and becomes a generic hulk monster. There was so much potential with him but he just ends up boring and standard.

They turned Lady into an IDF Soldier...I don't want her to get a redemption arc, I want Dante to knock her out and leave her in a crematorium truck for the rest of the next season.

Changing all the magic into "quantum physics" is boring as all hell. And it isn't even humans trying to use science to explain demonic magic, the demons explicitly say it's quantum physics as well. The games always had some magitek around but it was never explained and mostly just added to the mystique of the locations, making it explicit science ruins that. It's also just boring on its own, makes everything feel less special.

The CGI demons were distracting, they contrasted way too much from the admittedly excellent 2D animation for me to stop noticing it.

I personally found the decision to make all the "innocent" demons into humans with weird bits and all the "evil" demons into monstrous creatures offensive and cowardly for what should be obvious reasons. The only "monstrous" demon that has redeeming qualities is the one that can shape shift into a human.

They overstuff the ending of the season in such a way that I can't see a good and coherent season 2 that can juggle ALL of the plot threads that they create at the last minute. We have:

The US military invading Hell and doing war crimes

Arius and the Oroborous company strip mining hell, likely connecting to Lucia's (whitewashed) cameo in episode one

Vergil either working for Mundus willingly or being brainwashed and creating demonic ISIS

Dante needing to escape DARKCOM's custody and acquire Ebony and Ivory

Lady's redemption arc

Dante and Vergil's rivalry

It's just gonna be a mess.

Nitpicks and fan rage

The demons get offended when their homeworld is called hell or the demon world. Instead they call it Makai....which is Japanese for Demon World. That's just lazy.

Agni & Rudra are objectively worse than they are in the games, being just generic dumb monsters wielding swords rather than being cordial sentient swords wielding bodies.

I don't mind cursing but holy shit does Lady curse too much in this show, to a very distracting degree.

If Dante ever gets serious in this show then I only hear Nero. Sorry, Johnny Yong Bosch is just too iconic for me not to hear it.

Vergil says that he is the storm and then he approaches all over them.....we get that Bury the Light is a fucking magnificent theme but that was fucking ridiculous.

The licensed soundtrack was honestly distracting at times but that's gonna be hot or miss for people.

The Good Shit

The IDEA of there being a larger number of good or benign demons in the demon world is actually an interesting one, and the idea that many would want to go to earth so that they could escape the oppression that they experience in the demon world is something worthy of exploring in Devil May Cry. I can even see an argument that Sparda sealing off the realms did effectively prevent many demons from "waking up to justice" the same way he did. There is even plenty of support for benign and friendly demons in the games and 2007 anime. Cerberus, Agni & Rudri, and arguably Nevan from Devil May Cry 3 are fairly cordial and honorable, they just oppose Dante because it's their duty and willingly join up with him after they are defeated. Brad from the 2007 Anime was summoned to bring his monstrous master into the world but changed his ways after experiencing both love for another as well as the joy and freedom of life on earth. Modeus was a student of Sparda who chose to become a pacifist, seemingly having been on earth long enough to gain preferences about strawberry sundaes. And then there are Trish and Lucia, one only needing a single act of kindness from Dante to completely turn on Mundus and the other being a full demon raised by humans. My main issue with the way the show handled is that it reeks of cowardice and "shitty magneto writing"

The 2D animation is genuinely great giving us fun visuals and great action scenes.

The first few episodes had a lot of fun and energy to them but the severe vibe changes in Episode 5 are gonna make or break the series for a lot of people.

Episode 6 was honestly pretty good even though it felt somewhat out of place in the story, serving primarily to compare and contrast Lady and the White Rabbit's back stories until they finally collide in tragedy. Its biggest drawbacks are that it doesn't feel like a proper part of the show while also being the primary source that confirms that Lady is indeed party to war crimes. They started gunning down civilians before the portal even opened.

Theoretical alternative show that would have fucking rocked

If you already have Johnny Yong Bosch you should at least look into having him play the character he already plays and Nero would have actually been a really good character for some of this plot...as long as they got rid of the overt Americanization of the story.

Nero is a part demon orphan who was raised by a loving, human, foster family who lost his foster parents to a demon attack. This and other demon related tragedies eventually result in him embracing his demonic side so that he can use that power to protect his family and others. During the events of Devil May Cry 4 he learns that the local Sparda worshiping cult has been transforming humans into demonic hybrids and that he is related to Sparda by blood somehow. After taking down the corrupt church and accepting his demonic power he settles down as a demon hunter and eventually becomes a foster father to a group of children who were orphaned during the events of Devil May Cry 4.

The White Rabbit is a human orphan who was rejected by his human foster family before finding his way into the demon world before being adopted a kind family of weaker demons. The loss of his adopted sister to the cruelty and harshness of the demon realm inspires him to find a way to bring his foster family and other weaker demons to the human realm where they can be safe. However, an organized group of human demon hunters slaughter everyone he was trying to save, leading him to inject himself with demon blood and make an alliance with demon lords for revenge against them, regardless of how many of those he once tried to save will die in the process.

The parallels are RIGHT FUCKING THERE Come On.

By primarily replacing Lady and Dante with Nero you could focus the story on a single person's journey and reactions to everything going on, especially if you are going to stick to an 8 episode format. Instead of retreading DMC 3 they could create a more original story and show how Nero resolves problems without Dante or Vergil around. (you can also have him stop the mass murder in episode 5 cause that was gratuitous and just...not something I wanted to see in a Devil May cry show)

Anyway, way too long rant over. Have fun.

[verbenaa]

opus 4 (nothing compares to the sighs that fall from your lips)

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:

“Have I mentioned how absolutely divine you look, darling?”

“Well, you did make the gown.” Your hand tangles in his hair, pressing him closer as you arch into him. He buries his face into your chest, kissing and licking at the skin bared to him above the low neckline.

“It’s quite easy when you have such a lovely muse.”

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𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: Astarion/Reader

𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: smut, 18+

𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 6.9k

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: exhibitionism, frottage/thigh riding, clothed sex, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, vampire bites, blood, soft dom astarion, tailor astarion strikes again

𝑎/𝑛: if larian can't give us a masquerade, then i will! welcome to my current fixation which has been this masquerade ball fic. idk there is no rhyme or reason to this, its just fun and indulgent and glittery. i hope you enjoy and please like/comment/reblog etc ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

MDNI, 18+ CONTENT

ao3 here

masterlist

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The chandeliers twinkle brightly from the cavernous ceiling above as you float across the polished ballroom floor, slippered feet moving swiftly as your dance partner twirls you around, an arm wrapped tight around your waist while the other grasps your hand as he leads you through the elegant steps of a waltz. 

Wine burns through your veins as it sings a siren’s song, the sanguine liquid slipping down your throat with ease this evening, the vintage aged to perfection. Melted wax drips from the tapers decorating the room, their flames no more than whirls of shining light as you spin around and around, gown fluttering with every elegant movement.

It wasn’t often you attended these sorts of events, despite the amount of invitations you’ve received over the years. Being the most recent hero of Baldur’s Gate had its occasional perks it would seem, and this ball was certainly one of them. 

It was the same routine every time. You would open the frequently ostentation envelopes, perfect calligraphy written with expensive pots of colored ink on the front and oversized wax seals in golds and reds and blues on the back. Inevitably, after a passing glance at whatever solicitation lay inside you would feed it to your hearth, letting the fire gobble it up as it burns to black.

This particular invitation, however, had caught your eye. The envelope itself was nothing of particular elegance, though the black of the envelope and silver lettering did stand out among the others in your post box that day. The matching silver wax seal on the back opened easily with a quick flick of your letter opener, and a singular word on the thick vellum piqued your interest in a way that few ever did on these inane things.

Masquerade.

You can easily recall the way the word made your heart jump, mind moving to the imagined scenarios of your younger years, the adventures of storybook heroines always featuring stories of flowing gowns and glittering masks.

Your own gown flows around your form as you dance the steps, soft fabric laying perfectly against your curves as braided straps of silk rest over your shoulders. The skirt flows down around a high slit up the thigh, velvet the color of the deepest ivy brushing against the marbled floors with every movement. 

The metallic threads glow in the candlelight, embroidered designs of liquid silver cascade in small clusters down the bodice and onto the skirt like little groups of stars falling from the sky. The low back of the dress leaves you uncharacteristically bare, almost everything above the line of your waist exposed, though the air is warm against your skin with all the bodies present this evening.

Your dance partner cuts a dashing figure, a vision of velvet and quicksilver in his own right. He looked made for the part—like some dark hero from a storybook come to life in front of your eyes.

Gods, he looked so handsome. 

Your cheeks flush as you watch him, following his lead as his hands tighten around you, that familiar knowing smirk decorating his elegant features even with the dark mask he wears obscuring the top half of his features, claret eyes framed with black and silver.

You pull yourself closer to Astarion, filling your senses with his familiar and comforting scent as he continues to lead you through the steps with sleek perfection, footsteps confident and head held high under his disguise.

The dance ends, orchestra moving on from the dreamy waltz you had just turned about to on the floor, a lilting concerto taking its place after a brief respite. Astarion leads you to the side of the dance floor, a hand poised on your waist as you walk to the fringes of the room. 

You touch his velvet-covered shoulder, the intricately embroidered doublet matching the color of your own gown to perfection, down the same argent threads. The two of you were certainly coordinated this evening, if nothing else.

It had taken little to convince Astarion to agree to join you, his own love for overdramatic and lavish debauchery too much to deny something like a masquerade ball. He had certainly wasted no time designing outfits for the two of you, spending extra moments throughout his evenings constructing and embroidering them until every detail was as perfect as he had envisioned.

“Astarion!” You whisper into a delicately pointed ear, an emerald earring glinting in the candlelight as you rest your hand on his bicep, leaning your weight into him. “Go get us more wine!”

“You absolute lush.” His smile is fond as he leans over to press a kiss to your forehead, careful not to disturb the delicate lace mask resting over your eyes, satiny ribbon tied behind your head in a pretty, perfect bow.

It was hard to deny his comment, especially when there was that delightful fuzziness that occupied your every sense, clouding everything in a wonderfully warm haze. You had easily lost track of the number of glasses you had imbibed over the evening, though you are fairly certain you simply misplaced some still half full goblets on the random trays of servers who wandered through the space.

Your thoughts swirl as he walks away from you in search of more spirits, his retreating figure a vision. He really was too handsome, dressed in his finery like this. Maybe you were wrong all these years to give your regrets to so many an occasion, if seeing Astarion dressed in the rich velvets and silks he deserved to wear was to be your prize.

A hand on your shoulder draws your attention, and you turn a moment later, reactions slowed by the alcohol still dancing in your veins. Behind you is a man, handsome enough—if only in a rather ordinary way—his warm brown eyes looking out at you from behind a mask of bright crimson as he gives you a friendly smile.

“I must ask how such a lovely gem such as yourself is simply wandering around alone on a night like this?” The words are meant to be suave and charming, though you ignore them, as uninterested in the man now standing before as you are in his words or the meaning behind them. Your eyes draw instead to a overflowing vase of flowers on a table behind him, a downright gaudy display of cultivated blooms bursting from an equally ostentatious vase.

“Do you happen to know what type of flowers those are behind you?” You point at them, not addressing the man’s prior words to you. He turns to look behind him with befuddlement, taking in the large arrangement with barely a blink of his eyes before he turns back, scanning up and down your velvet-clad figure.

“I’m afraid flowers aren’t my specialty.” His answer is short and no-nonsense, he was clearly a man uninspired and uncreative if that was the best he could come up with, the roll of your eyes mostly obscured by the lace covering your face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting you before, may I ask your name?” He sidles ever a bit closer, and you take a measured step back in response as you cross your arms casually in front of you, head tilting to the side as you observe him.

“How could you know? We are masked, after all.”

“It would be my honor, my dear mysterious Lady, to have your next dance?” His words are polite, even with such blunt forwardness. 

You are saved from having to answer by an arm wrapping around your waist from behind, that wonderfully delicious scent of bergamot and brandy filling your senses with his presence.

The man across from you looks affronted at Astarion’s arrival, eyes falling to the arm wrapped tightly around your body and the angular face pressing against the crown of your head.

“Darling, won’t you introduce me to your new friend?”

“Oh! My love, you’ve returned!” Your smile is beatific as you turn towards him, eyes meeting his own you look for your promised goblet of wine.

“You never mentioned you were…partnered.” The man—what was his name again?—says before you two, a frown etched onto his features. 

“Well, you never asked. This is my—” Astarion cuts you off before you can finish.

“Husband.” There’s a prideful possessiveness to his words that strike your interest, though you fight the urge to roll your eyes all the same. You and Astarion may be life partners, but married you were not.

“Here you are, my sweet.” He holds the full goblet towards you as it dangles between his elegant fingers, wine threatening to spill from its silvered edges. “Now, let us continue our fête elsewhere, hm?”

You give the man a bored look before turning away, downing your wine quickly before moving to place the empty silver on the table behind him, the overlarge bouquet towering over you. Without a second glance, Astarion takes your hand in his, pressing a kiss to the back before stepping away with you into the crowd beyond.

He leads you to a secluded corner, the area obscured by the shadows of the lofty space. Astarion’s footsteps finally slow as you near the wall and he notices your raised brow, an expectant expression on your face.

“Married, Astarion? When exactly was our wedding day, just so I don’t forget the anniversary.” You speak wryly, an amused smile on your lips. “I’d hate to not get you a gift.” 

“Well, we may as well be married. Don’t you agree?” 

“I certainly don’t see a ring on my finger.” You make to look at your hand, a playful smile old your lips as you tease him. Astarion’s frown deepens, a look of childish petulance crosses his features, obvious even with the mask hiding his expressive eyebrows.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous that another man was simply talking to me?”

“Darling, I think he would have done more than simply talk to you if you’d let him,” He rolls his eyes, exhaling a huff as his hands come to rest above the swell of your hips, bracketing your waist with those talented, nimble fingers.

“Besides, he wasn’t talking, he was flirting with you.” You could swear he was pouting, amusement building with every passing minute as you bite your lip to hide your growing smile.

“I hadn’t noticed, honestly.” Your shrug is a touch too put on, the casualness of the action at odds with the finery you wear as the smile you try to hide escapes, painting your features with a certain cunning that Astarion knows all too well.

“Oh, I think you knew exactly what you were doing, darling, letting that man flirt with you.” Astarion’s hands on your velvet covered waist tighten as he walks you backward, not stopping until your back meets the intricately wainscoted wall, the two of you partially obscured by the heavy drapery of a nearby balcony.

“You’re far too smart, my sweet, to be so unaware.” The rest of ball swirls on obliviously around you both, dizzying in its opulence as music from the orchestra begins its climb to a rousing crescendo.

A coy smirk is the only answer you give him, the incline of your head daring him to continue as the lace covering your eyes only adds to your mystique tonight. The wine running through your veins turns your body hot, your confidence brimming with the help of the alcohol.

“And so what if I did, Astarion?” His ornate mask does little to hide the spark flaring to life in his crimson irises, thumbs tracing circles dangerously high on your ribcage as he steps closer into your space, the flowing skirt of your gown brushing against his own finery as he pushes close.

“Then I suppose you leave me no choice but to give you a little lesson, dearest.” 

One of the hands at your waist skates up, passing over your breast before brushing up the column of your neck, hand wrapping lightly around your throat as you lean your head up to look at him. His fingers brush over leftover scars from feedings past, and the sudden pressure on your throat has your body on high alert, heat licking at the bottom of your belly as you inhale a shaky breath.

Astarion’s mouth crashes down onto yours, stealing your breath as he kisses you with abandon. You answer his kiss with your own hunger, opening your lips to welcome his tongue. Your free hand comes up to brush against his chest, fingers tightening in the fabric to pull his body closer as your lips and tongue move against his own.

Your back is pressed hard against the wall behind you, the molded wood cool as Astarion crowds you, his chest pushed tight against your breasts. You widen your legs slightly and he quickly fills the space, a covered thigh coming to rest in between the slight spread of your own.

Astarion’s lips move to your jaw, your head tilting for him as the hand on your neck gives one last squeeze before brushing down your side until it finds your hip. The thigh between your legs presses in harder, and you thank the Gods that Astarion had the wherewithal to design a gown with such a high slit as you feel the fabric of his pants against your bare skin of your upper thigh.

The hand on your hip pushes you slightly forward and your covered center makes contact, the hard muscles of his leg rubbing deliciously against your core. You choke on a moan, and you can feel his smirk against your skin as his lips caress that spot behind your ear you love so much. 

“Do you think you can do it? Ride my thigh with all these people milling about?” His words are spoken low into your ear as your eyes fall shut at the tone of his voice, the devious lust that permeates every word sending a shiver through your body.

You bite your lip as you tug him closer, burying your face into his neck. You move your hips, starting with a slow movement, barely enough to provide any relief. But you feel it, all the same, cheeks flaming as you focus on Astarion and his leg, the alcohol drowning out the noise of the rest of the ball around you. 

What must you look like, you wonder, to anyone who happens to look on? You hope that the image of you together is only that of a pair of lovers embracing closely, too lost in their own world to care about anything else.

You can feel your wetness growing with every pass over his thigh as your hips undulate in soft motions, Astarion’s body pressed as close as possible to your own, shielding you with his form as much as he can from your place in the shadows. 

The feeling is wonderful, enticing in such a public arena, but it is far from enough. Your arousal grows, the dampness seeping through your underwear and onto the dark velvet of his pants as his cock twitches against you, his length hard as it strains against the fabric.

You feel his hand come down from your waist to brush against the slit where it falls against your thigh, his fingers tracing up and down your skin in teasing passes.

Those fingers slide inside the skirt of your gown, grazing the outside of your thigh as they make their way towards your ass. Your skin is hot where his cool fingers touch, a blazing line of heat marking every movement they make as he caresses the flesh barely hidden by your underwear.

“How wet are you, darling?” His words are sinful as he whispers them in your ear, hand easing under the line of your panties to rub against your bottom, his fingers creeping ever closer to the place where your aching cunt connects with his leg. 

“Astarion,” You whine in his ear, hand gripping the collar of his doublet. “Please.”

You don’t even know what you are begging for, but as Astarion’s fingers finally find your wetness you are unable to conceal the moan that falls from your lips. His fingers move, just enough to gather evidence of your arousal on his fingertips. 

“Oh, you sweet thing. You like this, don’t you?” You can hear the smirk in his voice as his hand trails away from the center of you, brushing back past your underwear and out of your gown. He brings the fingertips up to press against his lips, tongue sneaking out to lick at the slight sheen that coats them. 

Your mouth goes dry at the sight, your breathing hard as your eyes trace his features.

Astarion’s hand covers your own where it grips at his collar as his other adjusts himself in his pants, hiding his erection as best he can from sight. He pulls away from you, helping you adjust your dress with quick fingers. Your eyes catch upon the sight of your arousal on his pants, catching the light as he turns. You cheeks burn at the sight, your swallow audible.

“Follow me, love.” You don’t question him on where he is heading as he makes a line for the closest set of ballroom doors, pace quick as he weaves the both of you through the sea of bodies that make up the cities’ finest members of society. 

“Are we going home?” You whisper quietly as you follow, unsure if you were ready to commit the incandescent aura of the evening to memory alone quite yet.

It had taken hours to get ready, time spent bathing together before pampering each other—applying scented oils on skin and through hair, Astarion helping you pin your hair into its complicated updo this evening taking almost an hour alone, his fingers applying the rouge to your cheeks and lips with care as he admired your features with the utmost affection. No, you certainly weren’t ready to leave quite yet.

“It would be a shame to end the evening so early, don’t you think?” Relief and joy spills through you in equal measure at his words, eager to continue tonight’s festivities, whatever they may be.

You walk through the main hall, hand in hand with Astarion, the wine still buzzing in your head as he draws you up the large, elegant staircase of swirling marble. Your presence goes unnoticed as you pass others dressed in their own finery, shimmers of glitters and gems, silks and tulles flowing past as you climb step after step.

You make it up the rise of the large staircase, skirt twirling as you spin around momentarily to take in the scene of the party now beneath you. Its a world of luster that takes your breath away, everything filtered with the heady glow from the candelabras and wine flowing aplenty. 

With a tug on your hand, Astarion leads you away from the center of the room, breaking off to go down a smaller corridor to the side before cutting aside on one or two more until you are isolated, the noise of the orchestra below now faraway and faint.

The hallway feels hushed and hidden away, safe from the prying eyes of society as the candlelight sconces adorning the walls flicker, dancing fragment of light illuminating the narrow corridor. Astarion walks you back with hands on your waist until you feel the half-paneled wall against your uncovered back, the wallpaper ornate with scrolling vines and berries, vibrant reds and greens contrasting against the darkness of your gown. 

Astarion’s head bends to your chest, pressing a tender kiss onto the swell of your breast, over the place your heart beats in three-quarter time.

“Have I mentioned how absolutely divine you look, darling?” 

“Well, you did make the gown.” Your hand tangles in his hair, pressing him closer to your breasts as you arch into him. He buries his face into your chest, kissing and licking at the skin bared to him above the low neckline.

“It’s quite easy when you have such a lovely muse.” His nose nuzzles at the flesh of your breast, breathing in your scent as he groans against you, pressing his hips against your own so you can feel the evidence of his prominent erection.

Astarion bites down into the flesh of your breast that rises above your gown without warning, fangs piercing the tender skin that heaves with your breath as he drinks in the sweetness of your blood. It flows thick in brightly colored streams, a surprised moan ripping from your lips at the sudden action.

He sucks from the swell above your gown, blood dripping to stain the bodice as he licks and tastes the rich claret of you made all the sweeter from the wine, his hand drawing down your belly before dipping lower. 

He finds that slit on your thigh, hand working its way underneath before moving to cup around your wetness as you cover your mouth with your hand, hiding your moans behind a palm as your eyes flutter shut.

Astarion moans at the dampness he finds there, fingers quick to push aside the gusset of your underwear to run his fingers through your slick folds, collecting your arousal on his fingertips, spreading your wetness up and down the expanse of your center. You can feel his erection pressing against you, still hidden by his pants as he relishes your body’s reaction to his actions, lips still licking and sucking at the skin of your breast.

The fingers at your core move to rub your clit, the light pressure a relief as you bite your bottom lip to keep quiet, eyes glancing to the side quickly before closing once more to indulge in the feeling, his mouth not letting up as he savors your lifeblood.

“Astarion, what if someone sees us?” Nerves make their way into your soft voice, barely a whisper as your body tenses slightly with unease at the prospect of being seen by another. Astarion’s head lifts away from your breast, fangs leaving twin pinpricks on your chest, blood pulsing from the wounds in time with your heart as his eyes draw up to your own.

“No one will recognize us, my dear.” A finger circles your entrance, and your knees threaten to buckle under the pleasure. “Though we can stop if you want to.”

You hesitate and Astarion’s fingers pause to give you time to think, his mouth still drinking from the blood leaking from your breast, tongue licking at any stray drops.

“No,” You shake your head, needing little time to ruminate on the decision. “Please, don’t stop.” You let the desperation you feel run into your hushed voice as you give him your consent to continue, your hands in his hair brushing through the strands as you buck your hips into his hand.

“Thank the Gods.” His finger pushes in, working its way into you with sinfully slow movements, your head hitting the wall behind you as you let out a hiss at the feeling. You can hear your wetness as his finger dives deep, the sound of it obscene in the otherwise silent hallway.

“Gods, you’re so wet,” He kisses against your collar bone, nuzzling into the skin there as he breathes in your scent. “Who knew you were such an exhibitionist? Absolutely filthy of you, sweetheart.”

You whine at his words, Astarion coaxing more quiet moans from your lips as his finger pumps deep inside you. His free hand trails up to your shoulder, pushing off the delicate strap of your gown before moving down to pull at your bodice. 

Taking care not to rip the velvet, Astarion succeeds in freeing the breast he had fed on, hand coming up to weigh it in a palm as his mouth licks at the exposed nipple. 

He sucks on the hardened peak as his finger pulls out of you only to be joined by a second a moment later, the stretch barely noticeable with your wetness aiding his smooth thrusts in and out of your cunt.

His fingers curl against your walls as his tongue licks at your nipple, laving the peak as he finds that special place, deep inside your body and presses into it.

He’s relentless as his mouth works your breast and his beautiful fingers fuck you, his other hand squeezing the breast still covered, fingers working underneath the fabric to brush at the nipple.

It would be so easy to come like this, a fact Astarion does not miss as he can feel your body’s reaction, the telltale tension building inside you. Slowly his fingers leave your heat, brushing up against your clit with slippery motions as you whimper at the loss of them. He presses one last kiss to the tip of your breast, still wet with his lingering saliva, before he lowers to his knees in front of you.

“Astarion, what are you doing?” Your words are breathless as your hands run through his hair, the mask on his face slightly askew.

“I still seem to be a bit peckish still, though for a slightly different taste.” Warmth rushes to your cheeks as they flush, the alcohol still floating through your body painting everything in that same warm haze that has surrounded you through the night.

Astarion’s hands glide up your legs, brushing over soft thighs as he grabs at either side of the underwear where it rests low across your hips. His eyes flick up to yours as he pulls it down, guiding the thin, lacy fabric down your legs. He’s unhurried, clearly not worried about being caught or seen as he takes his time while his eyes never leave yours. He steadies you as you step out of the panties, pocketing the damp lace with a roguish smirk and raise of his brows.

His hand wraps around your thigh, pushing it up and pinning it against the wallpaper as he holds you open to his gaze. Your pussy is absolutely dripping for him, the sight of his otherworldly beauty as he stares at the center of you, open for him, takes the breath from your lungs.

There would be no mistaking what was happening if someone were to come upon you now—Astarion kneeling before you, supplicant, as he bares you to himself—unmistakable to anyone gifted with eyesight.

Astarion leans in to press a kiss to the thigh he has pinned, lips moving across the smooth skin with the lightest of touches before skipping over your weeping core to kiss the opposite thigh. You whine at the blatant misdirection of his mouth, hips bucking in indignation with as much motion as you can manage.

“Oh, I’m sorry—did you want something, darling?” He moves his face away from your body to shoot a look upwards, his features smug as he sees the abject desire in your gaze tempering the glare you shoot down at him.

“I thought you were still hungry, dearest.” You keep your words sweet, not letting the aching want you feel bleed into your voice as your eyes narrow. 

“Patience, sweet thing. I’m sure I’ve taught you about it once or twice before, have I not?” His head dips forward once more, breathing in the scent of your essence with a performative sigh. “Now, ask nicely. And do use your words and tell me what you want.”

“Astarion!” You start, exasperation building as you contemplate the words to say to appease him. He could be so demanding at times like this, a trait you found yourself caught between loving and hating in equal measure, though ‘loving’ did usually win out in the end.

You briefly debate making him wait for your words, watching his own impatience grow as you play coy, but this certainly isn’t the time or place for what could be a long, drawn out battle of wills on who would break first.

“Fine. Pretty please, Astarion, will you do me the honor of licking my cunt until I come? Preferably before we get caught?” Your frustration mounts as you say the words though you find the strength to keep your tone as breezy and unaffected as his own, despite the slight embarrassment beginning to creep in as the elusive power of the wine fades ever so slowly with every minute that passes.

Astarion grants you your wish with a wide, feline smile, licking a stripe up the center of you, his tongue running through your folds before brushing lightly against your clit as he savors the taste of you.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

His tongue laps at your folds, taking his time to move up and down in languid strokes, never focusing on any one place. It’s a maddening feeling, a whine slipping from your throat as your hips roll, asking for more.

His tongue dips into your entrance, whorling around the opening as he tastes you, his moan against your cunt matching the one that leaves your mouth. Your hands tighten in his hair, hips writhing as his tongue thrusts inside you.

Astarion is eager to taste your essence, tongue flicking deep in your waiting wetness as hushed cries fall from your lips with every brush against your walls. You could sob from the feeling of the lightning hot pleasure that works through your body in time with every push of his tongue. He eats you out like a man starved, his mouth moving against your entrance as he works to plunge you closer towards ecstasy.

His motions are fast-paced, quicker than normal as he works to bring you to your peak, and you whine once more when he tongue leaves to lave at your folds instead. Two fingers are quick to replace his tongue inside you as he circles your clit instead, flicking the pearl simultaneously with perfectly timed thrusts of his fingers, curling up into that special spot.

“You really are so good when you set your mind to it, love.”

Your pleasure ratchets higher, a tremor running through your body as the leg supporting you grows weak with your impending orgasm, muscles in your thigh shaking slightly.

“Astarion, please don’t stop,” Your begging only serves to spur him on, tongue moving faster and his fingers curling faster with a repetitive motion that has your body tightening around him.

“That’s it, darling, come for me.” Astarion’s words are reverent, and you embrace them as you hurtle over the edge, euphoria rushing through your body, the feeling enhanced by the leftover wine as your fingers grip tight in his hair.

You come on his fingers and tongue, Astarion working you through the waves of your completion as they flow through your body, your cunt spasming tight as his tongue doesn’t stop licking at your clit. You bite the flesh of your lip, the delicate skin splitting under your teeth as you keep the sounds of your orgasm at bay, tiny dots of red spilling over your lips.

You uncurl your fingers from his hair, smoothing out the curls as your breathing evens out and your orgasm leaves you in a sense of pleasant euphoria. Astarion presses soft kisses against the skin of your inner thigh as his fingers finally slow inside of you before pulling out. He places one last kiss to your entrance, licking up the remnants of your come before he leans back and places your leg back down onto the ground.

He rises from the floor with a graceful motion, hands skating up your curves as his mouth crashes against your own. You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue as he kisses you, the flavor of your own blood and come dizzying. 

Astarion licks at the blood on your lip, sucking on the mark as it bleeds. You open your mouth to him, his tongue tangling with your own as he deepens the kiss. Your hands work in a frenzy with his own to loosen his pants, the button finally coming free in your rush to free his cock from the confines of his clothing.

Astarion pulls his hardness from his underwear and you pump him, the velvety feel of his shaft warmer than normal as your blood courses through his veins. He moans into your mouth, hips pressing closer to you as you work his cock up and down, his precome shining in the light of the sconces as you spread the fluid on the heat of him.

His hands move down from your hips, brushing over your bottom as he grasps under the curve of your rear, squeezing.

“Up.” You are quick to obey, eager to feel him inside you as you jump up, Astarion catching you as his hips pin you in place against the wall, his hands supporting your weight in a tight hold against your ass. 

The half paneling of the wall presses into your back as you push your dress out of the way, the skirt easily parting around the slit as you guide his cock to your waiting cunt, still wet with your come. Astarion stares at your mouth as you lick at the precome that coats your fingers, pupils blown wide as you take a finger into your mouth and suck.

“Like the taste, darling?” Astarion’s erection finds your entrance, your wetness coating the crown of his cock as he bucks in shallowly, the head barely pressing inside you.

“Always. I think I’d like to have a little more.” Your arms wrap around his neck as you roll your hips against his cock, taking him slightly deeper inside your waiting warmth as you lick at his lips.

Astarion lets out a low growl as he pushes inside you in a single thrust, gliding home as hips meet your own. You both moan at the feeling of him inside you, the satisfaction of Astarion finally filling you euphoric as you wrap your legs around his waist. 

“Did you design this dress thinking about how you would fuck me in it?” Astarion sets a steady pace as he moves his hips, your own meeting his thrusts as best as you can with such a limited range of motion.

“Of course I did,” He licks at the blood drying on your lip. “I thought about how beautiful you would look coming on my cock wearing it, too.” 

He pumps his cock harder, hips rutting against your own as your arms around his neck tighten, bringing him ever closer to you. Your lips meet once more, pressing against one another’s to silence the noises of pleasure breaking from your throats with every thrust. 

“No one can make you come like I can, can they?.” His words come on an quiet exhale of exertion, tinged with the smallest bit os what sounds like possession, his lips brushing against your own with each syllable that leaves his mouth.

“Don’t tell me you’re still jealous, Astarion?” You can still feel the leftover fog from your orgasm, hands playing the hair at the nape of his neck, the strands soft against your fingers as you try catch your breath in vain, every thrust of his cock making it harder and harder to breathe.

“I want to hear you to say it.” The hands on your ass squeeze, cock hammering harder into your center. “Say: ‘No one can fuck me like you’.”

There’s a familiarity to the veiled desperation in voice, though its been years since you’ve heard it. You would know the sound of it anywhere, the cadence of his longing to be wanted and loved and cared for burned into your mind for eternity, settling there like a haze over your vision.

Your heart grows tender at his words, and you hold onto him tighter, pressing a kiss to his lips before giving him the words you know he needs to hear from your rouged lips.

“No one can make me come like you,” A kiss to the tip of his nose where his face rests close to your own. 

“No one can fuck me like you,” A kiss to one cheek, then the other. 

“There is no one for me but you, Astarion. Only you.” Finally, his lips—your love and passion pouring out onto him with the simple press of your lips against his, a hand coming to brush his cheek.

“Gods, I love you.” His thrusts grow sloppy as he grips your hips harder, mouth falling open against your own as his pleasure builds.

“I love you too.” You lips part with the tilt of your head backwards as Astarion hits a particularly deep place inside you, fingers curling hard into the fabric covering his shoulders. He thrusts faster, making sure to hit against the same spot on every push forward.

Astarion’s hand sneaks from behind you to press against your clit, rubbing quick circles as his thrusts grow frenzied, losing their rhythm as he chases his impending high, intent to bring you with him over the edge.

“Will you come inside me? I want to feel you.” You press a kiss onto the shell of his ears as you whisper the words, your tongue darting out to tease at the sensitive skin of the elegant point.

“Is that what you want, darling? My come?” His hips stutter at your words spoken so intimately as you clutch at him, the warmth of your cunt drawing him closer and closer to his peak.

“Gods, yes. Please!” You aren’t afraid to beg as his fingers strum fast on your clit as his thrusts hit deep, your vision clouding over as another orgasm nears.

“Then take it, love.” Astarion buries his face into your neck as he comes, hot spurts of his spend spilling deep inside your body as you ride him through his completion. The feeling of him coming is exhilarating, and his fingers don’t stop until you crest over with him, the contractions of your cunt drawing him in tight as you take all you can of him as he hides his moans into your skin.

You roll your hips on his still hard cock as you work yourself through your orgasm, Astarion still pumping his own shallowly inside you as he comes down, breath hot against your neck. 

Slowly, the world settles back down, both you coming back to yourselves from where you stand against the wall, breathing slowing. 

Astarion’s cock is soft as he pulls from you, his come sliding out with it to make a mess onto your thighs. Astarion watches as his come collects at your entrance, the fingers on your clit moving downwards to push it back inside you with a gentle motion.

“Waste not, want not, my love.” Astarion’s finger curls one last time to press against your walls as you squirm, your body overly sensitive in the aftermath of your orgasm.

He presses a kiss to your forehead before removing his finger, moving his hands to help you stand back on the floor with steady feet. 

He pulls your panties out of his pocket, bending down onto a knee as he helps you back into them, gently lifting one ankle after the other as you still catch your breath, before he raises the ruined lace back up your legs.

He adjusts the skirt of your gown, making sure the velvet falls perfectly before he presses a soft kiss to your covered stomach. He rises, fingers tracing your form as he does, dragging the long forgotten silk shoulder strap back where it belongs as you work your breast back into the bodice.

“Astarion.” You touch at his cheek, capturing his attention as he looks back at you. His gaze is clear as his eyes meet your own, the beautiful crimson red of them soft as he searches your face.

“You really are the only one, Astarion. You are the only one I will ever love, until my dying breath. There will never be anyone else.” You watch as your words settle over him like a balm, the love you feel radiating into him as he accepts them into his own heart.

His features soften even as he scoffs at your words, his hand coming up to cover your own on his face despite himself.

“Oh, I know. Maybe I just wanted to hear you say it.” You let him lie, willing to let him keep this facade in tact.

“I’ll say it as many times as you wish.” Astarion’s hand takes your own where it rests on his face, pressing a kiss into the palm before lowering your joined hands.

“I’ll be sure to let you know, darling.” Astarion adjusts his own finery, settling the velvet back to rights as his eyes draw to the bodice of your ruined gown.

“Did you account for potential bloodshed when you designed the dress too?” You remark as you eyes follow his own line of sight, looking down at the blood staining the velvet dark with wet, sticky blotches. 

“Let’s just be thankful that blood and wine look similar.” 

“Nothing we can do about that bite mark though.” You sigh as you attempt to pull up the neckline slightly higher to no avail.

“Everyone will simply have to be left to wonder, then, won’t they?” Astarion bends down to press a fluttering kiss over the marks decorating your chest, squeezing your hand.

“Think you have another dance in you?” You squeeze at his hand back in response.

“I suppose we still have a few more hours before sunrise to wile away.” Astarion walks, gently pulling you after him as the pair of you make your way back to the glittering ballroom below. “Let’s go have some more fun.”

[scarlet--wiccan]

Hi, do you know if Pietro is albinos or just has light skinned (colorism).

Neither, and you're using both of those words incorrectly. Pietro has white hair as part of his "mutation," and his skin tone is the same as Wanda's-- which, in their current official designs, is a light/medium brown.

If you're assuming that Pietro may have albinism simply because he has white hair, I would encourage you to do some research, because that's not how the condition works. I have always found the way fandom equates albinism with fantasy hair colors to be reductive and insensitive-- although it's not my experience to speak on, so if anyone with a more informed perspective is willing to share their thoughts, I'd love to hear them. Regardless, there are many other factors that a person with albinism is likely to exhibit, physically, and to experience both socially and medically, none of which have ever been ascribed to this character.

Colorism is not "having light skin." It is a term that is used to describe prejudice and discrimination towards towards people with darker skin tones, or, in certain contexts, preferential treatment of those with lighter skin and more euro-centric features. This comes up in a lot of conversations about intracommunal issues, and it's usually not appropriate for someone outside of a racial group to comment on this, but I will say this-- when someone with lighter skin feels like they don't fit in with their peers or community, that is not colorism.

To my knowledge, the idea that Pietro has lighter skin than Wanda is based solely on Uncanny Origins: Quicksilver, a retelling of Wanda and Pietro's origin story and childhood that was published in 1996. Such retellings are dubiously canon at best-- they often take liberties with certain events and create contradictions that aren't ever acknowledged in the main continuity. Uncanny Origins is guilty on both counts, and it does something really strange with the twins' racial identities. At one point, Marya comments that Wanda and Pietro aren't truly Roma, which is not only false-- at this point, both Erik and Magda were thought to be Sinti, so as far as readers were aware, the twins were Romani on all sides-- but it's also just not something I believe that a mother would say in this context.

The narration also states that Pietro has a hard time fitting in with the community because of his lighter skin. Keep in mind, all of the characters in this comic are colored the same way, so there's no difference between Wanda, Pietro, or any of the other Roma, and they all pretty much look like white people. Beyond that, I just don't think this is an accurate or likely scenario-- Romani identity is nuanced, but it's not predicated on appearance. Even if Pietro was notably lighter, he'd be less likely to face rejection from within the community, and more likely to be at risk of violence from outsiders. There is a history of lighter-toned and white-presenting Romani children being taken from their families.

Like I said, Romani identity is complicated, especially when it comes to adoption, but it's not appropriate for outsiders to speak on this and I really don't like the tone that Uncanny Origins takes. I usually tell people to disregard this portrayal, since it's such an isolated incident. It's worth noting, as well, that none of this aligns with the twins' updated backstory. In the current continuity, Django is Wanda and Pietro's uncle, and their mother, Natalya, placed them in his and Marya's care. They, and the rest of their community, knew exactly who these children were, and there would have been no question about their racial background or sense of belonging.

[dcdreamblog]

So after your interview with Uncle Sam, I went on a bit of a dive into some of his fellow Freedom Fighters. There’s the main ones, of course, but seem to be a fair number of associate members or hangers on. I was looking through pictures and in the background of a couple of newspaper photographs of them, there’s a guy who looks pretty much like the speedster Max Mercury, of the Flash Family and mentor to Impulse.

Are these the same guy? Max Mercury rarely talks to the press and seemed to mostly operate in the middle of nowhere in Alabama, barring all hands on deck scenarios.

Someone really needs to get one of those swappable number accident boards that says "Days since a speedster fucked the timeline" Yea that's the same guy, Max Mercury AKA Quicksilver AKA Whip Whirlwind AKA Thunderpace AKA a whole lot of other names here there and everywhere. While details about the man are scarce we do know that he originally appeared in 1838 as a friend and ally of the Blackfoot people helping them to resist the encroachment of white settlers and the American military. He was given some kind of mystic secret by the tribe's spiritual leader that granted him superhuman speed. While he stayed in that time and place for a while eventually he vanished from history only to appear again in New York City in 1891, 53 years later but without having visibly aged a day. This would become his pattern. He would appear in a new place, a new time spend a year or so there under a new superhuman identity and then vanish into the wind. Usually to appear about a decade further along as if he had just popped back into the world from some back door in time. The fact that he wasn't very publically talkative meant that most often his exploits were explained as urban legend, or mass hysteria. It wasn't until he again appeared in 1940 that he became anchored for an extended period, because he found himself operating under his most well known supranym: Quicksilver. He worked as a member of the All Star Squadron where he was a loose associate of the Freedom Fighters side of the organization. No one knows why for certain it could simply be that he was in the right place at the right time to be chosen for a Freedom Fighters mission, did a good job, and so kept being chosen. It wasn't until 1947 that he again totally vanished but only after having his life saved by Jay Garrick and Johnny Quick in a battle against the obscure villain The Screaming Skull. A rescue that Quicksilver promised to repay at a later date, no questions asked. One can assume he made at least one more jump after that, or maybe several as he appeared in the modern day to help Jay Garrick, Johnny Quick and the 3rd Flash defeat Professor Zoom masquerading as the deceased 2nd Flash. It was after that that he became mentor to the beloved but scatterbrained young hero Impulse, now Kid Flash. In his long life and especially due to his breadth of experience of many times, places and people Max Mercury has gained the nickname "The Zen Guru of Speed" being the first man who began to assemble a theory as to the physical and energetic underpinning of not only all super speed but indeed all motion everywhere in the multiverse. An at one time radical theory that we now know as the multiversal Speed Force a cutting edge science we are still making great strides in. He has served as something of a spiritual confidante of the Flash Family and other super speed heroes although the man himself is mostly retired. No one knows exactly WHY he chose the tiny town of Manchester, Alabama, a minuscule unincorporated community in Walker County with a population for 91 for his retirement. It could be where he had been from all the way back nearly 200 years ago. It could be he has some roots there. It could be he likes the quiet and the cost of living. Honestly I don't know and its not my business to find out.

[firelance2361]

Every Crown Has a Silver Lining

Just a follow-up-piece I did for my MCU-inspired Silver Witch piece, with the speeding sorceress on the prowl.

Hope you like it!

[brainrotbabe24]

Idk about this idea but I’ve been thinking about like- reader who’s similar quicksilver from the X-men. Like super fast, fast metabolism, ADHD to the max. Basically just the dwarves dealing with reader constant yapping and need for sweets.

Hi! Thank you for the request!

Okay, so you get a two-in-one, lol! I went a little crazy with this one and interpreted it into two scenarios.

The company reacting to the reader's ADHD craziness

How the company would react to the reader having superpowers

I also wrote a scenario yesterday about the company finding out the reader has ADHD. That felt like a prequel to this ask...it will be linked below

Thank you for such a fun idea. I hope it's okay I wrote it like this and not one scenario!💖🎉

The company reacting to reader's ADHD craziness

Balin: Just watches from afar and laughs at your shenanigans. Loves the energy you give the group, always keeping them on their toes!

Dwalin: Loves you, but every so often he needs quiet lol

Óin: Oin would send you on wild errands! He found out the hard way that boring adventures get you distracted…so the crazier, the better. 

“Y/N, I asked for rosemary, and you literally came back with a bag of potatoes and a bloody nose. What did you do????”

Glóin: He just lets you do your thing. "Y/N will run out of steam at some point." Tired dad vibes…

Bifur: Bifur would gift you fidget toys! I bet he would take the time to make them for you too! How sweet 🥺

Bofur: Jam sessions/singing constantly! Due to your ADHD, you guys would switch up the genre quite a bit. It would be a total production, too!

Bombur:  Would be down to go on crazy little side quests with you! You usually take him on the quests Oin gives you. Y'all would be like Merry and Pippin in LOTR

Ori: He would try to get you interested in hobbies to help keep you focused…like knitting. It doesn’t work, but you’ll still sit with him while he knits because he can keep up with your conversations and constant changing of topics.

Side note: I could not find a GIF of this exact topic...so imagine the reader is Homer and Ori is Marge trying to keep up with the conversation. Bart and Lisa are the rest of the company, lol 😂😂

Dori: Dori would be a helicopter mom! He would be scared you would get hurt, and worried other people in the company would influence your recklessness. You would basically be absorbed into their little family, lol!

Nori: Nori would team up with you to do some wild shit. He is the bad influence Dori is scared about

Thorin: Tired. Realized at this point that half the company has ADHD. Y'all ain't getting to Erebor any time soon.

Fíli: I think he would enjoy the late-night chat session! He would make sure to sleep next to you during the adventure because at least twice a night, you would wake him up and ask him random questions.

Kíli: He has ADHD, too. So, the fact that both of you have it makes me feel like Kili would see that as a deep connection—like soulmate material! I wouldn't put it past him to propose…

Bilbo: Would make you a cute little journal to write down your to-do's!

Gandalf: Gandalf would be a provoker like Nori. Imagine everyone is calming down for the night, you are all tired out, and then out of nowhere, you hear him whisper, “Psst Y/N ask Kili why he can’t grow a beard.” or “psst Y/N I heard Thorin wanted to hear about your super specific hyper fixation that takes hours to explain…(like one piece lol with all its episodes 😭).”

-----------

How the company reacts to reader having superpowers

Balin: He can’t keep up. You are too fast, and it hurts his brain. He does appreciate the hard work you put in when there is an orc ambush. 

Dwalin: He loves it! He thinks you are a strong, courageous badass. He is happy you are on their side. Will cheer you on in battle!

Óin: Tries to figure out how you do it … isn't convinced fully. Is it magic? Are you eating something?

Glóin: He blames the food or candy you were eating. He does not believe you have powers… that's all nonsense. 

Bifur: Couldn't care! Like Dwalin, he is just thankful you are on their side. 

Bofur: Comes up with nicknames/superhero names for you - a true fanboy, lol!

Bombur and Ori: Would think it’s magic!

Dori: Would make sure you got enough rest.

Nori: Tries to convince you to use your skills for evil, like stealing or cheating at games...maybe not evil but definitely his gain lol

Thorin: He's super excited! He wants to use your skills to help reclaim Erebor and constantly asks you to do recon.

Fíli: He's excited like his uncle, but he would want to train with you so he can keep up, lol. 

Kíli: Kili would want to compete! “Come on, y/n, let's see who's faster! I know I’ll beat you.” Maybe he is a little jealous that his uncle likes you and trusts you to do recon and other cool stuff.

Bilbo: He would think you also had a “special” ring and get paranoid. He would also ask you a lot of questions to see if you know about his ring. 

Gandalf: Suspicious! He doesn't believe you are from this universe. It leaves more questions than answers.

--------

Link to the ADHD one I was talking about above:

[nerdanel01]

No. 6 - Lectionary Pursuits (NSFW/18+)

It was hell; it was heaven; the warm ooze and drip of her around his half-swollen cock (the firmness of which had flagged, somewhat, in the lack of attention or stimulation Rook had been offering it—but if she had noticed, she seemed unbothered by it; she had kept him still sheathed securely inside her warmth) and the siren-like look at her eyes as she stared at him hungrily over the top of the pages. By now, Emmrich was not reading, not really—he was just using his eyes to recognize sound-shapes on a page, and using his tongue and his lips and his teeth to pass those same sound-shapes through his mouth. That language passed through him without leaving the faintest impression on him, without remotely registering in the cognitive centers of his brain; he was simply a transmitter, focused on the barest essentials of his task while every other iota of self-control and attention and discipline he could muster was being used to resist the urge to start driving his hips upward against hers. He could feel a flushed heat in his cheeks, in his neck; he was sure he was red. She was warm in his lap and his legs were shaking underneath her with every minute shift of her hips, any adjustment in her posture on top of him. The quirk of her smile—

The self-satisfied grin imploded on Rook’s face as it tightened, eyes screwed shut; she dampened a strangled cry through clenched teeth, resolved the sound into a hiss. Emmrich was on the verge of keening himself, with the sudden flood of warmth and wetness that gushed out of her, smearing across his groin and trickling between his legs. 

“I said behave, ” Rook told him, between deep breaths to steady herself, “or I won’t let you cum at all.”

“I am, dear,” Emmrich said, blinking at her in wide-eyed innocence. “Or, I genuinely thought that I was…?”

Rook let out a little huff, half amusement, half disbelief. Her best shorthand for, ‘get a load of this crap.’ One hand released the book to land, ever so lightly, on his stomach. “That wasn’t you flexing?” she asked him, running her fingers down the quicksilver path of hair that traced from his navel to his hips. “Misbehaving, making your cock jump inside of me?”

Andraste forgive him, but he loved the sound of the word ‘cock’ in her mouth, crass as it was—and this, in addition the teasing touch of her fingertips along his stomach was enough to have him swelling inside of her with renewed enthusiasm. Had he clenched his core, as she alleged, knowingly or unknowingly? “That—that wasn’t my intention.”

Rook huffed again. “Sure it wasn’t.” But whatever sudden rush of want or need had seized her then, she’d regained control of herself, now; her fingers traced back up his chest, circled pensively. A sudden gleam in her eye, she told him, “If you can make it to the end of the chapter without trying to fuck me again, I’ll start squeezing.”

[read full fic]

----

I’m really proud of all the writing I did this year! So for the last ten days of 2024 I’m going to be reblogging my 10 favorite pieces that I wrote. I put Emmrich and so many situations this year and not nearly enough of them were smutty, but I like to think that in the few times I did put him in spicy scenarios, I made it count. (: