#I'm not sure if i succeeded

[little-pup-pip]

hi!! is it possible to get a bunny + fallen angel themed moodboard? masc/androgynous preferably, no paci, and like darker colors pls!! no worries if not :)

Sure!!

[tei-to-tei]

December 2 - Story Time

[rawbin-hsr]

OMGGG Your latest smut fic is so amazing!!! The smut is absolutely delicious! but....the angst is breaking my heart so...could you please write a continuation or part two where the reader confronts Aventurine's dark internal thoughts and comforts them? A fic where they actually get him to believe that they love him for real, where they tell him that he's not a monster and that he wasn't ruining them.

You've got it ! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

Aventurine x Reader

You treat Aventurine with more respect than he deserves. (Part 2)

Read part 1 here !

CW: dehumanisation (internal, thoughts Aventurine has of himself, referring to himself as a “monster”), lots of mentions of death, passively suicidal Aventurine, violent imagery (through metaphors, nobody is actually physically harmed), intrusive thoughts, Aventurine thinks kind of vicious things about you (refers to you as "stupid", "brainless", "naive" etc), cursing.

Lmk if there’s anything else I should warn about !!

Small note: Spoiler alert sorry, but you will not completely fix Aventurine in this fic. Making any real progress would take YEARS. The trauma he's gone through and his beliefs about his own humanity are EXTREMELY deep-seated, just one conversation would not be enough to make him truly believe he was loved. Super sorry since I'm sure that's not what you wanted (you specifically requested they "truly get him to believe that they love him for real", but this does still end on a hopeful note so I hope you won't be too disappointed (•ᴗ•,, ) )

Sometimes Aventurine gains enough clarity to remember where he stands. More importantly, he gains enough clarity to remember where you should stand. That is to say, as far away from him as possible. Unfortunately, you are never keen on doing that. 

In these moments of clarity, he distances himself. If you won’t do it, he has to. He needs to. He needs to even when he can feel the little pieces of him that you’ve managed to haphazardly glue together splinter into tiny shards again, even when it feels like every step away is a step walked on shattered glass. He can hardly be called a ‘person’ anyways, what does his suffering matter? He has already lost so many good things, why not add another loss to the tally?

He reads your texts, but he doesn’t respond. He hangs up on you the moment you call. By doing this, he makes sure you know he is alive. Both because he knows it would devastate you if you thought he died, but even more so to make sure you know he is intentionally ignoring you. He hopes at least some part of you hates him. He thinks part of him hates you.

But he can never stay away for long. Like a werewolf called by the full moon; like a vampire to blood; like a siren to a sailor. Thoughts of you always cloud his mind too much to do what is right. He reminds himself he will destroy you. He comes back anyways. He is too selfish not to. 

And you welcome him with open arms every time. Sure, sometimes you yell. Sometimes you berate him. Sometimes you cry. But he never does something beyond the bounds of what you’ll forgive, even though he tries to. You’re patient to a fault. Though he feels bad, he never takes it fully seriously, because you always hold him with so much sweetness, even when your words are filled with righteous anger and justified hurt. You always end it by reminding him that you love him. Something clenches in his chest; something that is not his heart, because he has none. He claims he is sorry, but you both know he will do this again. He always does. You know he will hurt you over and over, even if you don’t know the extent. You know he will test you, that he will ignore you, that he will cling to you and that he will taunt you. You don’t know he will drag his claws through you and tear you to ribbons; you don’t know he will sink his teeth into your neck and drink all your blood; you don’t know he will lure you to sea and drown you. You are never aware of the true danger you are in. 

Maybe that’s why you one day feel comfortable enough to corner the creature that has taken on the appearance of a lover. You sit down next to him in bed one evening after one of his many attempts to push you away, your expression grim. You look straight ahead, right into his dead eyes, unaware that a monster is towering over you. 

“We can’t go on like this,” you say. For one moment, the crushing relief and devastation threatens to consume him, and he’s not sure which of the feelings is stronger. For one moment he can’t breathe. 

He hacks our a laugh, his skin straining. Something is shifting beneath his flesh, something ugly and dangerous. He needs to leave and he needs to do it quickly. 

“You’re right, we can’t,” he agrees, his voice a lot more steady than he feels. He feels the urge to grab you and shake you until you pass out. He feels the urge to suck out your life force until your body is an empty husk. He feels the urge to slam your head into the bathroom sink in the next room over. He feels the urge to shoot himself in the head, because he does not want to do any of that. 

“I love you,” you say, unexpectedly. Or maybe it’s not unexpected. You always say such stupid, brainless things. (You say it with sweetness. The only sweetness he can offer in return is the sweetness of bacteria digesting rotting meat. Is the flesh his, or will it be yours?) He laughs again. 

“I thought we were breaking up,” he says. Smirking, as if it’s funny. (It isn’t.)

“No, we’re really not,” you say firmly. He snorts. 

“Maybe we should.”

You don’t answer. Instead, you come closer. 

Get away, he thinks. Run, you fucking idiot. 

You don’t have many flaws, but the ones you do have are insurmountably big. You are too forgiving, you are too kind, you are too selfless, you are too naive. You will kill yourself doing this one day. You will let him kill you.

Your arms wrap around him. He can’t help but relax. The thing lurking under his human disguise grows more restless. 

“I don’t hate you,” you say, unexpectedly. And this one really is unexpected, because what made you say that? Your arms squeeze around him tighter. “I thought I was being obvious enough about that, but you’re so bad at understanding it.”

The feeling he has is the same as the feeling he gets when he realises a deal is going awry. You are the highest risk stakes he has ever made a bet on: will he ruin you, or will you ruin him? What you could do to him is so much more serious than death. He knows that he is holding a losing hand. He doesn’t even know what he stands to win.

You kiss his neck. He shudders. 

“Why are you so scared of me?” you ask. 

Scared? He is not scared. What an outright laughable concept. Neither of you are scared, but if one of you was, it should be you, but you aren’t, for some reason.

“What gives you that idea?” he chuckles, but his voice is not as steady this time, and he can feel his smile slipping. (What is wrong with him? He doesn’t want to think about it. The answer is always ‘everything’.)

“Your hand is shaking.”

It is, but that is not because he is afraid. Fear is a human response, borne from the desire to live. It is instinctual. It means kicking and screaming, it means clawing your way out of hell for the chance to see another day, it means fighting for the life you don’t want to end. He cannot die, you see. Death cannot occur twice. Just because his body reacts, that does not necessarily mean he can truly fear any longer.

(Then again, maybe his reaction does not come from the thought of his death.)

“I’m not scared,” he says, and his voice sounds a lot weaker than he had expected. You pull him closer, cradling his head against the crook of your neck. His blood is pulsing too quickly.

“It would be okay if you were,” you murmur. “I know you don’t know how to be loved. That’s okay. I’ll teach you. You just have to let me.”

Squash. Slice. Tear.

Maybe you are the monster. He can feel your claws prying his chest open; he can feel your teeth dig into his flesh; he can feel something that is not air fill his lungs. The biggest difference between you and him is that he devours, while you give. You painfully shove something back into the cavity meant to contain his soul, you pump blood back into his system, and you fill whatever gaps are left in him with something that is first cold but quickly warms. 

(He realises, belatedly, that something is pumping inside his chest again. But it can’t be a heart, can it? He lost that so long ago.)

“I’ll kill you,” he manages through gritted teeth, claws digging into your shirt. It is not a threat. It is not a warning. It is just the truth.

“You think too much,” you admonish him. Your tone is as gentle as your words are cutting. “I wish you would trust me more. You’re so determined to ruin your own life, and I don’t like it.”

“That’s just how I am. Deal with it or leave.”

“I’ll deal with it, then.”

Like a werewolf called by the full moon; like a vampire to blood; like a siren to a sailor. He will destroy you. But you accept it. 

He has tried time and time again to push you away, but he is weak. So incorrigibly weak, and though your flaws are insurmountable, his are all-consuming. He is a monster in all the ways that matter. But you stubbornly will not leave despite that. 

(Maybe that makes him a little more willing to try to change his nature. Just a little. Just for you. If you will not leave anyways, maybe he could try to make his presence a little less torturous.)

“Just… please stop ignoring me,” you sigh, nuzzling into his hair. Tenderly, tenderly, tenderly, so tenderly it makes his skin crawl. Your claws are softly piercing into him and he is helpless, unable (unwilling) to fight back. “I can deal with everything else. I just hate it when you do that. I can’t keep going weeks without speaking to you. I know you have some kind of… weird ideas that I’d be better off without you, but that’s not true. I love you, and I love being around you. I can’t help you when you cut me off at every corner.”

Cut, slice, slash.

Something in him breaks. Something he knows cannot be salvaged. Something he knows you would not want to salvage. Something he is not sure if he wants to salvage either, now that it is broken anyways.

He breathes a shaky breath, his fingers — his fingers, not claws, not this time — digging into your back. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, and he does not feel the urge to bite down. Though his eyes feel wet, it would not be enough water to drown you. 

He knows your line of logic is wrong. He knows the fact remains unchanged: he is a monster of a man. He will ruin you. But maybe your presence sparks enough electricity to keep his heart pumping, just for a little while, and maybe he can wait until things actually start going downhill before he lets you go. Maybe he can remember how to be a human for a bit, maybe he can pretend he is. 

“I just… don’t want to do something I can’t take back,” he whispers. “Not with you. You’re the… the only good thing I have left. I don’t know what I’d do if I…”

“That’s sweet, but I’m not as weak as you think I am,” you reply. “I’ve held out this long, haven’t I? Put more faith in me.”

He smiles.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

---------------------------------------------------------

My inbox is open, feel free to send in asks or requests, I'd love to ramble about things <3 Also reblogs are EXTREMELY appreciated the final push I needed to finish this was from a very kind individual who reposted and analysed my writing I've been riding that high ever since they did that ily bro

[a2zillustration]

I carried this thing for MONTHS with the EXPRESS PURPOSE of putting Raphael in it (knowing full well Larian wouldn't let me do that, mechanically) and I had one major miscalculation.

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[misc-obeyme]

Hii!!

I'm the anon who asked about belphie and mc's nsfw moment and by their first meeting I meant when he seduces mc instead of killing them as a form a revenge. Just that!

You can start it however you like

Whenever is OG or NB

Okay, got it!

Well, I did my best lol. I used some actual lines from the game from Lesson 16 in OG. I don't know if I managed to write what you're asking for... but I tried! Hopefully it isn't too terrible.

GN!MC x Belphegor

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: Belphie is super manipulative and probably kinda OOC, penetration (reader receiving), biting

When Belphie opened his arms to hug you, you stepped into them readily. How long had you been hoping to set him free? And now you were in the attic and the door was open.

Belphie held you close, almost gently, his face buried in your neck. You felt the warmth of his breath on your skin.

"Ah… this really brings back memories," he said. "This feeling… I wonder how long it's been since I've touched a human? So, MC…"

He stepped back, but kept his hands on your waist and suddenly he was in demon form. A thrill ran through you at the sight.

"…how can I express how I'm feeling right now?" Belphie reached up to trace your bottom lip with his thumb. "What can I do?"

You weren't expecting to have this kind of reaction to him. There was a hunger in his eyes that you couldn't mistake and yet you found yourself ready, willing.

"You're stunning," Belphie said, clearly looking you up and down. He stepped closer to you again, wrapping an arm around you. "You won't make me beg, will you?"

He pressed his lips to your neck, almost biting, before he pulled back to kiss you properly.

You could have resisted, perhaps. You could have refused him. But there was so much tension between you and in that moment, all you wanted was to feel him. You kissed him back, tugged on his clothes, indicating your desire for their removal.

Belphie laughed into the kiss, pulling you against him as he moved toward the bed in the attic.

You were in a haze of heat and need as he undressed you, removing your clothes without a second thought before tossing his own to the floor.

For months, you had been working toward opening that attic door. Never once had you imagined that it would lead to this. The look in Belphie's eyes made you feel like he was planning to devour you and you found you wanted nothing else.

You squirmed a bit with impatience and he laughed again.

Belphie put a hand on your cheek. "Ah, you're so desperate for me, aren't you, MC?"

You didn't have a chance to reply as he pressed his cock into your heat. He moved faster than you were prepared for and you cried out, clutching at him, leaving nail marks in his back.

His thrusts were hard and fast from the start. You moaned and your body shuddered, your legs naturally wrapping around him.

Belphie didn't hold back. His horn pressed against your cheek as he bit your shoulder and your nails dug deeper into his back.

You came first, crying out incoherently as you did, squirming beneath him as he kept going, never losing momentum even as you squeezed him hard with your orgasm.

He lifted your hips to give himself better access and his cock was hitting that spot inside you with a consistent rhythm. Tears sprang to your eyes as you crashed into overstimulation, your fingernails raking down his arms, his name falling unceasingly from your lips.

When Belphie finally came, you gasped at the feeling of his cum inside of you. He slipped out of his demon form, laying down next to you and pressing his face into your neck.

"You humans really are foolish, idiotic, weak creatures, aren't you?" he whispered into your ear.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[honeyforbees]

Athena.exe ━ Rogue AI

[crazydaymycrazyway]

Mission going wrong-

William: Time for plan G

Albert: Don't you mean plan B?

William: No, we tried plan B a long time ago. I had to skip over plan C due to technical difficulties

Bond: What about plan D?

William: Plan D was the desperate disguise attempt an hour ago

Sherlock: What about plan E?

William: I'm hoping we don't have to come to that. You die in plan E

Louis: I like plan E

[mlobsters]

jared padelecki and jensen ackles jaxcon 2023 gold panel (x) / gen v s1e6 jumanji

diddling and musk flavored skittles

[sylvhen]

just having a normal one thinking about how badly Armand wants to be loved but every time he gets close to it, he self sabotages and ruins it. almost as if. he subconsciously doesn't think he deserves it.

[aces-to-apples]

I'm gonna be real, so little of previous games have actually mattered in any way beyond flavor text that I literally could not give less of a shit about this whole debacle. Like it's such a non-issue to me. Idk what games y'all have been playing for 15 years but truly this is the norm. Barely anything carried over from Origins to Hawke and all pretty minor shit, and I genuinely cannot think of anything beyond flavor text carrying over to Inquisition. Oh you could customize Hawke and they can answer a few vague questions with vague bullshit? Cool, presumably that's what the Inquisitor will give us. Like idk guys but I think maybe building up your expectations for a decade has had a detrimental effect on what should be reasonable expectations for a video game that's truly been in development hell for like eight years and wants to be functionably playable to brand new players without alienating them.

[marrissacooper]

The beautiful kind, making up for lost time Taking flight, making me feel right

WYLER SECRET SANTA 2022  | happy holidays elsbeth ! @laylakeating​

[fortheloveofexy]

the pure dread that fills me when i think about drawing anything lately needs to be studied

[sonicchaoscontrol]

[Ch. 1, Page 6]

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Great googly moogly, it’s full of particles

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[retributory]

when you think about it clive and flora are actually perfect narrative foils on complete accident. like what's up with that. professor layton and the completely imagined literary devices

[shakerofthebutt9000]

I heart colours

[tearlessrain]

seriously can catastrophes stop happening for five minutes my brain is already fried from the ones we're already experiencing