#Of spidersilk and satin

[menzoberranzanprincess]

WHAT TRAGIC DEATH DO YOU SUFFER ?

The Sacrifice

you die saving the thing you love. maybe it is family, friends, perhaps even a cause. they will carry your face with them for the rest of their lives, and every milestone they pass will make them think of you. it does not matter because you won't be there to experience it with them. years down the line, they will meet people who do not even know the weight of your name upon their skin. this is what your selflessness gets you in the end.

Tagged by: @infernalapparatus

Tagging: every spider in the world (you)

[rae-gar-targaryen]

THIRSTY THURSDAY!!!! Getting dressed up all nice to go out and not even making it to the restaurant before Peter is fucking you in your nice dress and heels. Very partition by Beyoncé.

Veryyyy "Partition," but also, very "Green, Green, Dress?" Like the way he touches her in that dress... Just makes me feel a little crazyyyy -- Enjoy! (to me, this definitely takes place in the "predictive text" universe).

18+ ONLY please -- it’s a whole thing. Touching, biting, mirror sex, some absolute verbal filth. Probably stupid and slutty because I’m tired.

anything you say [tasm!peter parker x reader]

wc: 1.1k of absolute filth (i love blurbs. i’d love to write one someday). 

--

"We’re going to be late ....” Peter rounded the corner to your room, halting at the dooraway. “Whoaaaa, where have you been hiding that?"

You glanced up into the  standing, floor-length mirror to lock eyes with your boyfriend through your reflection. The flowy, satin-y redwine dress was soft to the touch as you smoothed it down the tops of your legs, rewarding Peter with a flashing glimpse of your bare thigh between your midnight stockings and the hem of your dress. Like the kind of devastating girl who would be the subject of a Hozier song, a perpetual muse leading to eventual, indescribable destruction. 

“You’re not so bad yourself, Pete,” you acknowledged, appreciatively noting the crisp white dress shirt he had donned, sleeves rolled up his sculpted forearms to rest at the elbow. “Bared forearms?” You quirked a brow at your boyfriend in jest, “You harlot.”

Peter snorted at that, though his heated, honeyed eyes hadn’t left your form, roving the curves bedecked by the flattering cut of a sweetheart neckline, smooth long sleeves, and a decently-short hemline. You smirked at Peter in the mirror, pleased at his reaction, his assessment of you, and turning your attention back to fixing your stockings into place. 

You felt, rather than heard, your boyfriend breeze into place behind you, felt the warmth of his arms coming to encase you, his electrifying touch grazing the satin sheen along the curve of your hips. 

“Baby,” he breathed into your ear, “this is fucking cruel of you -- to make me sit through dinner when you look good enough to fucking eat. How could any man focus?”

You made a show of rolling your eyes, your voice taking on a flirtatious lilt and doing your best to ignore the feeling of Peter’s palms skating over your hips and up your sides, 

“But Peter,” you gasped, teasing him for his earlier concern, “We’re going to be late.” 

“That depends,” Peter’s mouth was skating up your neck, coming to rest along the shell of your ear, all heated whispers and filthy fucking promises. “How fast do you think I can make you cum before we go?” 

If Peter’s handsy little tête-à-tête wasn’t making the heat rush through you, his words sure did the trick, feeling wetness begin to pool at your core at the weight of his words. 

“I’ll bet ...” One of Peter’s hands roved up the front of your dress to cup the fullness of your tit before dragging firmly up to your throat, the other hand traipsing a teasing, spidersilk trail up the hem of your skirt and along the exposed skin of your upper thigh, “I’ll just fucking bet I can wreck you properly in time.”

Peter gripped, pulling you back by the bare skin of your hip into his front, rolling the very obvious effect your dress had on him into your backside.

You sighed, eyes rolling slightly back at his words, the feel of a firm hand around your throat and the promise of Peter, Peter, Peter driving the very thought of a months-long dinner reservation out of your mind. Sure, date-nights with your vigilante boyfriend were few and far between, thanks to the nocturnal nature of his unpaid hero gig. But some things were worth weighing. Like the very real weight of Peter’s erection against you. Or the fact that his hands were everywhere at once, all of a sudden. Running beneath your skirt to feel what you had hoped would be a surprise later, but may as well be discovered now -- your very real lack of underwear beneath said red dress. 

Your ears were met with the breathy moan of your boyfriend at his discovery, something for your ears to cherish, as he trailed a long finger firmly through your slit, gathering it’s wetness. 

“Oh, honey,” Peter’s voice had taken on a hint of what you might mistake for meanness if you didn’t know better, a condescending clip met with nipping teeth and the trace of tongue along your ear, molten words melting their way into your brain, “Fuck.”

You felt one of Peter’s hands abscond from its rightful resting place along your hip to unzip his pants.

“I-I’m just not good with self-control,” Peter groaned, taking himself in his hand and rolling a teasing stroke of his cock along your folds, causing you to buck your hips at the very promise of the weight of him inside of you. “I’m going to fuck you now, okay?” 

Your gasping breath became baited, awaiting Peter,’s next move. Which, apparently, was waiting on you. His grip had returned to your neck, traveling to grip the hair gathered at the nape of your neck and pulling until you opened your eyes with a shrill gasp. 

“Okay?” Peter demanded again, locking eyes with your starry ones in the mirror. 

“Yes,” you sighed, allowing your eyes to slip closed again at the feel of Peter finally, mercifully, sliding inside of you from behind, your silken heat gripping him as he began to fuck you in earnest.

“Mayyyybe,” Peter gritted, relishing in the sound of his hips meeting your flesh, pushing into you with a pleasurable, punishing pace that made starry tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. “Maybe I’ll make you cum again in the cab on the way there. Fuck your pretty little pussy with my fingers until you just can’t stay quiet?” 

Oh, God. The thought, Peter’s words, spurring you closer, closer, as a particularly brutal thrust knocked you forward enough that you had to clutch the sides of the standing mirror with shaky fingers, undone and wrecked by the sight of Peter behind you. 

The kind of girl you like is right here with me...

“Maybe I’ll take you in the bathroom, taste your sweet cunt for dessert?” Peter’s clever fingers you adored so well now playing a well-loved tune, circling over, along, against your clit, causing you to see stars, the heat ever-climbing. “If I do that, you’d have to be good all through dinner. Can you do that? Hmmm?”

 Peter’s thrusts were brutal, punishing and choppy as you could feel him nearing his end. A particularly clever strum of his fingers against your clit had you toppling over the edge, a gasping 

“Yes,” leaving your lips in answer to Peter’s filthy queries, relishing in the heavy drag of his final thrusts within you, of the feeling of his release inside of you, and the ache you loved to hate, that you knew that was soon to follow when he pulled out, leaving you desperate for him again. 

“Jesus. You’re a menace in that dress, baby.” 

---

Thirst Thursday: Send your Thots 💌

Tagging: @spidervee @inklore @mrshipsmcgee @withahappyrefrain @aphrogeneias @peterthepark @petcr3 @friendly-neighborhood-blondie @clints-lucky-arrow @realspideyspice @phoenixhalliwell @abibliophobiaa @ouralcohol @blooming-violets

[awintersrose]

Even Angels Fall

Pairing: Jiraiya/Dan Kato, Jiraiya/Dan/Orochimaru, Dannin OT4 if you squint 

Rating: Gen

Prompt:  Cafune - the act of running your fingers through the hair of someone you love (from this list)

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He hasn’t moved for several hours, pinned in place by a hundred and forty-some-odd pounds of distressed lover finally given over to sleep, but Dan’s weight is nothing, and holding him close is a rare joy in times like these. Especially when Jiraiya’s own orders could call him or the others away any day now. This is simply time to be savored - even if it came into being because of pain.

Those with the greatest gifts often pay the highest prices. No one knows exactly the extent to which Dan feels as though he’s losing himself with every new body he takes, with every body he destroys from within.

No one else knows the truth - the toll that it’s exacting upon him with the way he shares the psyche of each of his victims, and thus their experiences, their pain. The way each target’s mindscape is consumed with sheer terror; the way they beg as they rot from the inside out. The way each death feels as though it might last forever and Dan might never break free or return to his own body in the end.

No one else knows the extent of this but Jiraiya, and he’s sworn that Dan will always have a safe place to land when his deployments are through. He supposes he should feel guilty that it feels so good once they are together like this, but… they are in love.

And love is all that the sage can feel when he gazes down upon his sleeping lover, as Dan breathes in the slow cadence of one lost in deep, dreamless slumber, his slender limbs draped heavy and boneless across Jiraiya’s form.

Locks of pale, ice-white hair fall over his chest, and Jiraiya traces them with a finger for the hundredth time, the thousandth time, really he’s lost count. Dan’s hair is nothing like his own, or that of the other two. Orochimaru’s hair is as black as fine Uzushio ink, shining like heavy satin. Tsunade’s, golden like a ripe rice field, tangled and tied because she hates the fuss. His own, ever untamed and wild - Oro always likens it to animal fur of all things.

Dan’s hair is oddly soft, like spidersilk made into a more substantial element, fine and glimmering almost crystalline in the light. That softness should not be congruent with something so reminiscent of icicles on a winter morning in Yugakure. But his cheek is just as soft, rosy with sleep, and crowned with silver-blue lashes still tacky with the salt of tears. Those lashes are fine, almost fae in their beauty. And oh, Dan is beautiful. Once, it was easy to pass him off as a goody-two-shoes because, Jiraiya realizes, he’s nearly celestial. 

Perhaps their ghost is not a ghost after all, but an earthbound angel instead, with the mere ability to break free of his illusory mortal shell. Of course this world would weaponize such a thing, and now it is something that harms yet empowers Dan all the same. 

More reason to keep him well-rooted to this terrestrial plane, where Jiraiya can mend the broken pieces and see them soldered together with golden joys.

Jiraiya brushes Dan’s hair back, drawing gentle fingertips through the delicate strands. Perhaps one day he really will weave crystals through it and sketch this angel - though his mind’s eye moves right toward the most lurid of poses. Maybe he’ll volunteer himself as a devil to corrupt said angel? Yet knowing Dan as well as he does, the angel sprawled on top of Jiraiya hardly needs tempting in order to be wicked all on his own.

But that is a fantasy for another day. 

The door slides open, quiet as a whisper, and a familiar voice interrupts the silence. “Is he sleeping?”

Orochimaru slips into the room, his fluid steps inaudible as Jiraiya looks up. “Yeah. It was a pretty bad go of things this time, but we’ll get him through it.”

Tired golden eyes reflect a somber acknowledgment of dark truths that Orochimaru is well acquainted with. Another moment finds the serpent coiled beneath the covers beside them, a lean arm protectively entwined about their sleeping charge, as he finds a place for his head upon Jiraiya’s shoulder.

“We always do.”

[sitting-in-thee-library]

spidesona

daughter of an old hollywood actress who fell from grace Marget O’Connor always had her eyes on something bigger than she was allowed. When she was five her grandmother would pull her close and they’d go through the pictures, her mother was also a star, a beautiful up and coming star who’d dnaced from party to party through life until she’d got pregant, Ellie (Elanora to her mum) was trying to do better but addiction didn’t really care about the new baby and the starlet was killed in a collision, not many people remeber her name now but if you look closely you can see posters for her movies. they lost the mansion and they moved back to a small flat in a cornor of town that got more and more forgotten. Marget loves the glamour and grace of old movies, she watches them with her grandmother all the time and she learns and she improves and they don’t have the money for nice clothes or jewlery but Maggie takes after her mother in her quick fingers and fast run and the route to the warehouse (a new shipment of silks and satins soft liek you wouldn’t belive practically calling out for her to take some home and make something out of it with her grandmothers singer, her grandmother used to sew her own costumes and nice audition outfits on it too) when the spider bites her. She doesn’t even notice, to caught up on making her escape but in the next few days she has these powers, and the next week her grandmother starts getting sick, starts forgetting and she can’t work and maggies paycheck alone isn’t enogh to cover the treatment and she looks at the spidersilk between her figures and thinks of the red and blue figure and what if what if.

The first store she robs is a tiffanys. Grandmother always tried to raise her right to not steal but as she runs her hand over the stolen diamonds she feels her mothers grin take over her masked face. She sells them and Grandmother doesn’t have to worry about work they and Maggie drops out of school (The other kids never liked her anyways, thought she was weird or wanted to be her friend because of her family) and she takes care but god she can’t help it. She finds a nurse, a good nurse a nice nurse who grandmother likes (and she’s slipping away but she see’s the theif, dubbed silk spider and she sees Maggie and theres a glint in her eye and she tells her she loves her shes proud of her and sometimes you do what you need to survuve and thrive) and she swings through the streets and feels alive, she’s staking out the next shop, a jewlers because she has a motif now, when someone with a gun tries to mug someone else in the alley bello. it’ the work of a moment to tie him to a wall and then rob the shop. Eventually her ream comes true, someone see’s the design and she has a job, a high paying one and she can keep the lights on and her grandmothers nurse with the clothes she makes and designs for spoilt heiresses to go out and play in. The thefts slow and she only takes something when she really wants it and sometimes she returns the clothes  afterwards (She just wanted to know how they moved and paying the bills doesn’t leave her with a lot of money) but she keeps swinging and stopping some crimes (She’s a crimila herself but the man she found with the drunk girl is hung upside down outside the city hall because honor among theves) and so she makes a costume, the pearls and theres a fur coat for when it gets cold and the suit is all black, with a white slash of spidersilk tiedaround her waist, and on the soles of her shoes (her spiders spun the suit itself, she doens’t know what type they are but they sing to her that it will stop knives and help take the hit and be bullet proof on the torso) she can speak to the exotic spiders in a fashion and they listen to her (Her nemisis speaks to the spiders enemey and they live beneath the subway tunnels but also once infest a high rise) and elbow length gloves and they give her eyes on the suit and it’s everything she could drema off (once she rescues a kidnapped child in the area and she takes a pearl off her chest, the bits are raised but stuck to the suit) and gives it to her telling her to sell it and buy something nice) she meets spidey when a madman tries to blow up the bridge that comes under joint juristiction (if she hears someone in help she’ll help them but the area between X-Y she’s come to think off as hers) he calls her a copy cat she shrugs and says that if he hadn’t been swinging around she probably wouldn’t have thought to do anything with the powers, he gets excited and they have a tentative friendship, she stops the mad men shooting him but does steal the policemans wallet, to be fair she only takes the cash, someones gotta spring for her taxi back.

two months go by and they talk up high more, she won’t take the mask off and won’t let him either but they turn out to be about the same age, he’s a bit younger and she tells him that she was dumb as a brick before she left school but teases him about girls and boys and talks about photography and movies (he also likes the old movies, says he watches them with his aunt, she also learns that both of their parents are dead.) and on the second time they have to stop someone blowing up the bridge (ugh would people stop, the things she steals and the material she needs to have a dres sout of by tuesday is in there) she takes a bullet for him in the leg, a sweeping high kick. He wants to call a nrse he knows who won’t arrest her (doubtfull, spiderman stops crime and makes friends, silk spider causes crime and apparently takeas a bullet for spiderman) but the spiders are good at healing her and so she makes him take her through a long and winding detail before they go to the spider warehouse as she dubbed it and they sing to her and make guaze. Sadly they don’t really know what to do after this (apparently it will heal quicker with the quaze because she is a sister) and so he calls claire and she comes and then he calls a man in red and halls kitchen doens’t really have a ny big buiessness she feels comfortable stealing from but everyone knows daredevil stops crime and so she tries to leave before spidey holds her donw (She also has super strenth but her trying to stand reopens the leg wound and she might pass out for a minute) the nurse takes the buller out of her leg, ties the gauze and tells her she won’t turn her in because she used less violence than DD and stopped claire from getting shot when she was visiting a friend, Maggie laughs and says (Listen claire offered the good stuff and she took a half dose, a history of addiction vs getting shot hurts) that she actually just can’t fight and it’s all on the spider reflexs, she’s been learnign how to swing a punch from spider who she had banned mentioning anythign about to DD because she is crime and he is anti crime but for spidey a little crime is okay sometimes.

basically a bit of a film noir/old film inspired spidey, her names Maggie, her friend is the coworker who finds her the next morning and the nurse and her grandmother, after a year of knowing spidery and 11 months of knowing peter she introduces them and her grandmothers a badass.

[menzoberranzanprincess]

Minthara

An indie 18+ ❧ Non-selective ❧ Non-mutual exclusive ❧ Minthara Baenre from Baldurs Gate 3 ❧ runs along side canon but works in personality via my exploration and understanding of Minthara's character as well as personal headcanons about her.❧ primary blog for @frigiddetective Lovingly penned by Spidy 25+ they/them

Caard // Should be mobile friendly, tldr of rules below

Links: solo writing- prompts - prompts pt 2 - headcanons - ooc - answered asks - threads - memes/joke posts - IC - Aesthetic - ship related - musings

Ask box is: Open for any prompts i've posted, questions, prompts, or starters <3 You can also send me HC requests if that is more your thing.

TLDR of rules and additional info below as well as tags

Brief rules of the queen: 18+, I reserve the right to deny anything for any reason. Asks welcome. Read at your own risk. Tav friendly <3 I also welcome none RP blog asks though I may answer them less. Indie. Non rp or ooc blogs welcome <3 I am not mutual exclusive and welcome anyone to slide into my DMs even if its just a silly ask or how Minthara would react to something ^_^

Additional info: Headcanons are on a queue however I may also post them randomly if I come up with one suddenly. RP responses after the first, if I'm not feeling well and don't want to be overwhelmed, will be queued 1-3 days after i answer them.

If I do not answer your ask, response to my starter, etc. there are no hard feelings on my end. I may not have been inspired, may have been in a writing funk, or otherwise chose not to answer with no malice in my heart. If I am not to your taste please just block me, there are no hard feelings and you should curate the experience you wish to have.

If you wish to senselessly drag me into drama good luck because I simply don't care, drag my name, make a spectacle, its tumblr. Connected sideblogs// @frigiddetective -Neve Gallus//DATV @assansdaddy - Davrin//DATV

TAGS:

[OOC]/ #spider cunt speaks

[THREADS]/ #spider thread

[PROMPT/MEMES]/ #the spider beckons/ #prompts (I use these interchangeably and will try to tag most with the former going forward)

[HEADCANONS]/ #headcanon (may be more specific later_

[ANSWERED ASKS]/ #ask the spider (CURRENTLY using this for non prompt related asks)

[JOKE POSTS/ME BEING SILLY]/ #silvery barbs on you

[MUSINGS]/ #music for spiders

[AESTHETIC/VISAGE]/ #of spidersilk and satin (might make a visage tag later but I don't have many of these)

[SHIPPING]/ #the heart of the spider queen

[IC]/ #Minthara rambles