Please read before interacting! This is important info about my blog and it's contents so you won't get surprised.
Masterlist
INFO
This blog is for writing reader inserts and other ships! You can send me platonic, romantic, sfw or nsfw requets. Reader is assumed to be female if no gender is specified, but you can request reader with specific gender or pronouns
Minors please dni, I'm not here to babysit <3
I'll add content warnings as needed and requested.
English isn't my first language so I might make mistakes or phrase things weirdly
If you have "women/fem!alinged dni" on your blog, please don't interact. This blog is obviously not for you
Characters are assumed to be +18 (there are exceptions)
If you'd like to see darker content I also have a sideblog @mirumonster! Though warned that when I say darker I do mean darker so be sure to read through the pinned post before venturing further!
Fandoms you can request from:
Baldur's Gate 3, Dragon Age (games), Riverdale, Encanto
Price, your beloved husband, is...difficult to shop for.
John is the kind of man to buy what he wants, he has the money after all. He doesn't have any extreme hobbies, and the things he enjoys he regularly funds, so shopping for him is your personal hell.
Three years into marriage, and he still responds to your questions with "get me whatever, honey, you know I'll love it." Which is probably the worst thing for him to say to you.
But you're determined. You interrogated his closest friends personally, saved up after choosing your target, and coordinated for discreet shipping so he doesn't recognize the logo.
Which is why you stare at price after coming home one day.
"John...what is that..." Your beloved husband, light of your life, is holding a bottle of that fancy bourbon he likes, already opened and poured into a crystal glass. "I thought you ran out..."
"Hm? Oh, I ordered more, love." Price replies, taking a sip "pain in the arse to ship, butâ huh? Whoah, sweetheart, what's wrong? Honey?"
You can't hide the sniffle you make, eyes watering. Price is by you in seconds, hands rubbing your forearms soothingly, brows furrowed "ah, what's wrong? Tell me, please, dear."
"Iâ i bought you that already! For christmas!" You whine, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. You hide your face against prices shoulder, embarrassed to be so upset but unable to move on from the dissapointment. "It was so hard! Andâ and I paid for it myselfâ andâ"
"Shhh, hey, hey, it's okay love." Price tries, kiss your temple. He gently guides you to the couch "you can still give it to me, I'll jus' have more, yeah?"
"But it's not the same!" You groan, pulling him down. Even upset with john you still seek his comfort. Leaning into your husband, "you're so hard to shop for! And you always get me amazing gifts!
"Okay, okay. I see now." Price nods, "I won't buy myself anything more until after Christmas, yeah? Then you can get me a gift. How's that?"
"...that would be nice." You admit, face still shoved against his chest. You can feel johns chuckle through your entire body.
"Alright, love, consider it done." He kisses the top of your head, and mentally notes to cancel that order for more cigars he put in.
You keep...clinging to him. Not physically clinging, not really, but it feels like it with how close you insist on sitting. Feet brushing together, and elbow knocking into his whenever he shifts. Sure, he can understand you being touchy.
But he doesn't understand why you flee the second the touch is returned.
Like a skittish cat. You're more than happy to crawl all over ghosts personal space, but hiss when he goes to rub your back. You only ever do it to him, too. You never even approach the others. It's frustrating.
So he asks you about it one day, when you appear by his side for lunch. He's never been one to soften his words "why do you do that? Touch but refused to be touched?"
He must've gotten you on a good day, because instead of picking up your tray and leaving, you sigh. "It's just...uh- alot." You stab your fork into what might be eggs, refusing to meet his eyes "I just...get overwhelmed. Not used to tha' sort of stuff. Not in the nice way."
Which is to say you were raised by angry hands in a home that didn't love you like it should've. Or something like that. Ghost can read between the lines, can pick out what you mean. "And you chose me...?"
"Figured you'd understand." You shrug, ankle barely skimming his.
Of course ghost understands, he wears thick clothes and covers every inch of skin for a reason. It's an odd feeling. Being trusted with something so fragile. To be the first to touch you in a way that doesn't hurt. "Huh. Okay."
"Okay?" You tilt your head, nervous. Ghost just nods, goes back to eating his food. Okay.
...you push your knee against his in thanks, and he just barely pushes back.
No thoughts just konig waking you up to his cock rubbing on your face.
He doesn't care that the tent you're in is tiny, that anyone passing by would know what the colonel is doing, he just needs you so bad. You're still blinking away sleep when he groans and spills over you, not like it stops him, hips still rutting as he groans "just hold still, yeah? Hold still and be quiet for me now, I need this." Of course he decides to do this in the middle of the woods with no showers...asshole.
Werewolf!ghost who fucking hates meeting new people. Everyone agitates him, wearing heavy perfumes and thick colognes. It agitates his sensitive nose and gives him severe migraines.
Which is exactly why he's obsessed with snuggling you.
You dont like scented stuff, it tends to irritate your skin and make your acne horrible. Even your laundry detergent is unscented and the antiperspirant you use has no smell. Which means you smell solely of *you*.
Look, ghost may be the mentally ill and extremely terrifying guy on base, but at the end of the day hes just a big dog. A big dog who wants desperately to curl up for pets and treats, which is exactly what you two do at the end of the day. You get into bed first, knowing that ghost has a little routine he likes to do of rolling around to find the ideal position for that night before pulling you into his arms.
He rumbles happily when you pet his hair, nose pressed firmly into your neck. Your musk, a subtle mixture of sweat, dirt, and your distinct odor. He loves it, and can only sleep properly when his lungs are full of it.
Ghost may be a big scary wolf, but he'll always be your overgrown puppy.
Regency!AU where youâve spent your childhood in the grass and mud with Johnny, wearing hand-me-down trousers while catching snakes and frogs. Neither of you belong to wealthy families, so itâs a shock when youâre sent away to a fancy finishing school, with Johnny running alongside the carriage until he canât keep up, only letting himself cry once you canât see him.
Years pass. Heâs grown into a fine, hardworking young manâ trying to prove himself and rise above his station, steadily moving upwards in a merchant company. He comes to your house to visit your mother for weekly afternoon tea when your carriage rolls to a stop by the front steps, the footman holding your hand to help you step out.
Youâre a vision. A far cry from the mud-covered girl in rolled up trousers. Johnny doesnât even recognize you at first, not until your mother greets you with tears in her eyes at what a fine woman youâve become.
You turn your attention to Johnny soon after, demurely extending a hand. Itâs terribly inappropriate, but he lifts you in a tight hug, and you laugh.
Still, he fears you might not be the same. And heâs dismayed that youâre not allowed around him without a chaperone. You prove his fears wrong when you pick up every stray caterpillar and ladybug in the garden to show them to him, despite the deep frowns from your chaperone. Johnny catches the grasshoppers, since you canât run so much in your layered skirts.
Johnny continues his work with renewed fervorâ he needs the means to marry you.
But there was a reason youâd been sent to finishing school. One of your aunts had paid your way, with the expectation that youâd marry a man of higher status. And sure as anything, when the season comes for galas and garden parties, they flock to you. Johnny, when heâs able to attend, cannot stand it. He hates it more when he canât be thereâ he can only imagine what manner of boar youâre subjected to.
He begins to see a dark carriage at your house more and more. Until his worst fears are realized.
Your engagement is announced. To a lord, no less. Head of a major trading company.
The marriage happens quickly, your family eager for you to take his name, and Johnny is barely able to see you between all of the preparations and proceedings, every gathering seeing you swarmed by other ladies bubbling with questions about your mysterious groom-to-be. His house insignia, an ornate thing woven with a deathâs head moth, looms.
The wedding itself is a strictly family only affair, to Johnnyâs dismay. But he does hear the rumors. Stories about one half of the church being entirely empty.
Johnnyâs long since decided he isnât giving up on you. He doesnât care about the ring on your finger and your new last name. This new husband of yours doesnât know the real youâ heâs just after the prim, polished beauty youâve recently taken on. He doesnât know that your true beauty shines when thereâs a spot of dirt swiped across your cheek and a frog cupped in your palms.
He works. He becomes outstanding. Itâs only a matter of time before heâs approached by your husbandâs company, wanted as a strategist and route coordinator. The invitation to your house follows close behindâ this Lord is a recluse who prefers to take what business he can at home. To Johnny, this is the dragonâs lair, where the fair princess waits within for rescue.
i think all age gap fics should be a little raunchy. like yeah you lowkey see him as a father figure and he calls you "kid" and you get special attention because "you deserve it" and he's your authority in some capacity and he also wants to fuck your brains out.....
Day 4 Prompt, Illness, for @augustwritingchallenge!
Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3
Pairing: Halsin & Reader
Other: Gender Neutral!Reader, the relationship can be read either as platonic or romantic, sick fic, POV second person
Word count: 714
Summary: Being one of the druids at Emerald Grove was great, most of the time. Unfortunately you've fallen sick, but the good thing is that Halsin is here to take care of you!
>Ao3 link<
This is how you were going to die, you were sure of it. The usually comforting sounds of Emerald Grove seemed to grate on your nerves, and the scents of herbs and nature you had gotten so used to were nowhere to be found. Youâd spent the past few days in bed â feverish, barely eating because you couldnât taste anything. Being constantly exhausted made you start sniffling from the smallest thing. The stone bed did nothing to ease your aching body, and for once you missed your old bed back in Baldurâs Gate. Only good thing in your life right now was the mer taking care of you, Halsin.
âItâs just light fever, bugbear. Youâll survive,â he gave you a soft smile as he sat next to you on your bed, brushing some of your hair away from your forehead. Archdruid or not, he always found time for those who needed him. You were faintly aware of him moving before a cold rag was placed on your forehead, making you whine from the sudden temperature shift.
âFeels like Iâm dying,â even speaking a few words was enough to make you cough and your body ache even more, âI donât feel so good Halsin. I think this might be it. Iâm going to die on the most uncomfortable bed in all of FaerĂťn,â for some reason your raspy complaints were met by a chuckle and cup of water from Halsin. Sunlight peeking through the canopy plays on the surface of the water for a moment and manages to cause your blooming headache to worsen.
âYouâre not dying, and Iâm glad to see youâre feeling better already,â the nerve of this man to just smile at your suffering. Still you accept the cup, letting Halsin help you sit up as your joints ache and he helps you sip slowly. Thanks to your stuffy nose, you canât even enjoy the taste of fresh water. You manage to take a few sips before pushing the cup away and lying back down with a groan.
âThese beds are terrible for resting. Why canât we have normal beds for when people are sick? And chicken soup,â curling to your side, you ignore the wet rag falling off of your forehead, opting to instead try to scoot closer to Halsin. He was warm and steady, like oak warmed by sunlight. Usually youâd be able to smell leaves and dirt mixed with herbs on him, but not today. Truly miserable.
He shifts as you curl up around him, rubbing your back with one hand while the other one finds your hair. Soft humming fills the air as he starts threading his fingers through your hair. Slowly the hum starts to remind something akin to a lullaby, but you canât be sure. It does help ease your mind as the sounds of the Grove fade while you focus on the song. You were sure a few of the birds nearby were singing along.
Halsin continues to stroke your hair, humming quietly while watching you battle sleep. You were such a fussy little thing when sick, but he had insisted to be the one to watch after you, even when Nettie had offered to help. Archdruids werenât supposed to play favorites, but what was he supposed to do when you needed him? For the moment he just wanted to focus on something that really mattered. The other druids could handle the wildlife and the vegetation outside of the Inner Sanctum.
âHalsin?â he acknowledges you with a hum, âThank you for looking after me, I know youâre busy with being archdruid,â your voice is a slurred mumble and your eyes are closed. It reminded him of the way cubs would resist sleep as long as possible before succumbing to it.
âIâm never too busy for you, bugbear. We take care of each other here. Even the strongest oaks need care sometimes,â he doesnât bother mentioning that he wouldâve dropped everything just to take care of you. Instead he continues humming the quiet lullaby, even when you start to snore softly. Besides if being an archdruid meant he couldnât care for those closest to him, what was the point? Life outside the Grove would continue even if he spent a few days focusing solely on you.
being the new, shy tech for the 141 introduced by laswell, and the boys are already trying to tease you. (18+)
youâre playing a game of truth or dare, taking shots and laughing and trying to relax even though the pub is so loud. itâs a saturday, thereâs a footie game on, and youâre just trying to get to know them better.
well, johnny and gaz dare you to ask ghost out. the big brute thatâs standing like an awkward statue ordering more drinks at the bar. and there you go, swaying on fawn legs, poking ghost gently in his meaty arm. the boys watch as ghost has to bend down to hear you over the noise, and you stand on your toes, putting your hands on his shoulder and murmuring in his ear.
you disappear with that big giant manâs arm around your waist, and when you come back to the table about twenty minutes later, youâre giggly and a little sweaty and stumbling just a little more. johnny leans over the table, confused.
âwhat happened? what did he say?â
âhuh?â you raise a brow.
âwhat did he say? when ye asked him out?â
âohâŚâ you go warm all over, pressing the backs of your hands to your cheeks. âis thatâŚis that what you meant? i couldnât hear you!â
âwhat?â
the booth rattles when ghost sits his weight down right beside you, big fingers wrapping around the nape of your neck and curling you up so he can press his forehead to yours. the eye contact is intense, and you break out into another fit of giggles as you stare right back at him.
big, scary bear. adorable giant.
you turn back to johnny, shrugging your shoulders.
âi thoughtâŚi thought you said to ask him to eat me out.â
I made a mistake of going on a reddit thread about chapter lengths in fanfiction. My sibling in Christ, people are writing this stuff for free. Who cares if they're writing less than 10k words per chapter???
Ghost is totally the "cool cousin that for some reason tiny children are enamored with" when soap drags him to a family get together.
Soaps got a big family, okay? Aunts, uncles, cousins all come in for the holidays and bring their little ones too. Tiny toddlers and little kindergarteners, a couple of babies swaddled in parents arms.
Theyre a chaotic bunch, running around the large house, ducking between legs and filling the space with joyous laughter and maybe a few broken pots. Then they see ghost shadowing behind Johnny with his skull balaclava and full-black attire, and absolutely lose it.
Clamoring around his feet and looking up at the big broody man, asking a thousand questions. What's with the mask? Are your scars real? Are you and uncle johnny dating? Is that a knife? All while ghost is sending panicked looks to a very amused johnny.
He, no matter how hard he tries, cannot escape these kids. Persistent little things that have no qualms asking anyone and everyone "have you seen mr. Simon?" Which is how ghost accepts his fate and goes to sit down in the kids area.
A war-hardened soldier, sitting cross-legged on colorful little alphabet tiles. He nods along to the various kids ramblings, learning they'll go on and on if he just grunts now and again. The parents love it, coo about how much of a natural simon is with the kids! He even gets them to settle down and sit still while he tells a highly edited version of a mission he and johnny went on.
At some point one of the moms hands ghost a baby while she grabs a drink. so now hes sitting here with a little pudgy baby making grabby hands at the keys he jingles in front of them, listening to three different monologues from six-year-olds, and silently watching a toddler eat cheerios off the floor.
Somehow, inexplicably, he actually looks in his element.
Reader wanting desperately to cuddle with ghost, but you kick and squirm way too much in your sleep, right?
A few too many incidents that significantly lowered ghosts chances of becoming a father had him putting his foot down. Telling you that either a solution needs to be made or youre sleeping in your own bed.
The solution you agree on has a box with multiple coils of silky rope arriving later that week. Ghost tying your arms and legs together becomes a part of your nightly routine. Wash face, brush teeth, then select what ties you want.
You had worried they would be too constricting, that youd become claustrophobic in the night, but ghost made sure they were easy to slip out of if you really tried. Besides, its turns out you dont have to worry about claustrophobia.
With ghosts calloused hands working over your bare skin, voice low as he asks "too tight, sweetheart?" Or "higher or lower, love?" Has you sinking into a calm place. Mind quiet when he tilts your body over and wraps his arms around you, essentially a teddy bear for him.
According to ghost, you don't even squirm in your sleep, perfectly still with those cords around you. Head tilting to nuzzle into ghosts neck, enjoying the warmth of his breath fanning over your ear.
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