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#summer writes
tripleyeeet · 8 months
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BLEED YOU DRY (1)
SUMMARY: When you awake to find Astarion attempting to drink your blood, you find yourself making a interesting decision.
PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader (reads as Gender Neutral but future chapters will be femme focused, just a heads up!)
WORD COUNT: 3,273
WARNINGS: Bloodsucking, that's about it?
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, so I'm aware I'm way ahead of schedule for this Haunted Hoedown thing but I'm going to be gone for a few days in the middle of it so I figured I'd get a headstart now to make sure I get every day done but also to build the hype? Maybe?
Basically this is going to be a little twelve part miniseries based on prompts from this writing challenge. I'll make a masterpost either tonight or tomorrow with all the ones I chose, plus some other stuff, so you guys know what's going on!
The prompt for this particular day was "I want to watch you bleed."
CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER
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The squirming tadpole behind your eye is what wakes you up. Its constant movement, wriggling from edge to edge quickly prompts you to groan and palm your eye, attempting to suppress the feeling as you blink through the darkness. It takes a moment to adjust —to feel that twitch of the creature die down— and when it does there’s a sigh of satisfaction that leaves your lips.
Despite how long it’s been, you’re not sure you’ll ever get used to the fact that you have a parasite living inside your mind. Even after experiencing the insertion firsthand, you often forget it’s there, looming behind your retinas, awaiting use every time you run into another. Normally it’s so still, barely inching out of place; sitting there, incubating within your thoughts. Tonight though, something’s urging its presence. Keeping it awake as you close your eyes again, scrunching up your face once it moves a second time.
Angrily, you sit up and turn your head, suddenly catching Astarion’s gaze, noticing the open-mouthed grin he offers in response. 
“Shit.”
You narrow your eyes, focusing on his teeth. How bared they are; ready to strike at a moment's notice despite the only food lying around being you. “Were you just about to bite me?” you ask and almost immediately he attempts to play it off as if it were nothing, scoffing and rolling his eyes. 
“I wasn’t going to hurt you if that’s what you’re insinuating. I was only going for a nibble.” 
You can feel your tadpole squirm. He’s telling the truth, albeit for reasons that are more selfish than he lets on. Despite seeming otherwise, he only wants to drink from you for strength —for energy. His desire to kill you is minuscule, lingering in the shadows of his mind for a potentially later day but surprisingly such notions don’t scare you. Astarion may be a bloodthirsty creature but for now, he’s an ally.
“And you didn’t think to just ask first?” You raise a brow at him, watching his expression twist into something bordering between confusion and interest. 
“I’m sorry, just ask?” he parrots, exploring your features and how they remain calm despite the context.  
He was expecting you to be angry. To throw some kind of fit and deny. It’s what any normal person would do, but considering the circumstances, offering up a little blood to build up the strength of someone on the same side is worth more than the annoyance that forms across your face. 
“Yes, like a normal person,” you chastise, taking in the scowl he offers in response. 
His brows furrow at the sound of your words, angling upwards to appear as sinister as possible, and you can’t help but snort. Something about his constant disapproval is almost humorous at this point.
“Normal? Darling, I’m a creature of the night. A blood sucking fiend. A—“
“Vampire, yes, we’re all well aware given the teeth.” You poke at your own canine, tapping the enamel with open lips just as he swallows hard and narrows his eyes. 
“Yes, well, obviously considering such details I thought it inappropriate to ask. People don’t typically agree to such perilous sounding terms,” he says, voice light and airy. Casual, you might say, despite the context. 
“So instead you were just going to go for it?” You raise your brow, a smirk playing across your lips as he rolls his eyes. 
“Seemed like the best possible option… at the time.” 
You offer him a quiet ah, nodding your head as the two of you remain still, watching each other. Trying to gauge how the other is feeling without the use of your tadpoles. 
Based on what you know about Astarion you assume he’s too stubborn to ask. Now that he’s caught, regardless of whether or not he needs the blood, he’ll never find himself in a position to be desperate enough to say those simple little words. Being a man of persuasion, he’ll most likely just talk his way into it —make it seem like the whole thing was your idea in the first place before diving right in. 
It’d be respectable if you weren’t the victim. If it were Wyll or Gale and you were to bear witness to his deceptions, you’d fully support it. Encourage it even if he were to ask your opinion.
Since it’s you though, you can’t help but feel a bit frustrated. Astarion and you have never been particularly friendly. Having only been around each other for a few weeks, all you’ve talked about is the Illithid and how you plan to get rid of it —what you’ll do after it’s gone. But even the latter conversations hardly spark specific details. Mostly they’re just brief mentions of wanting to run away. To become hidden after the war is over. 
You assume someone’s looking for him based on the way he speaks and carries himself. When you’re on the move he hides within the pack, using you all as a shield while he looks around. Always on high alert, his ears twitch at any foreign sound, his eyes dart to meet the faces of anyone you may come across. At night, he’s always the one to keep watch and over time you’ve come to realize it isn’t just because he doesn’t sleep. It’s because he’s looking for someone. 
Even now, as he stands above you, you can see his eyes looking past you to focus on the underbrush. The way they narrow with focus, pushing past your face. He can sense something that you can’t —feel the eyes of some foreign presence staring at the two of you. 
You’re tempted to use the tadpole to find out what exactly it is but quickly refrain once you hear the shuffling of branches behind you followed by Astarion’s breath of relief. 
“You alright?”
His eyes shut for a split second. His chest heaves a single breath and in that moment you’re struck with an odd sense of sympathy. The feeling of pity laces throughout your thoughts as you imagine Astarion’s life before all of this. You imagine it isn’t great. Considering he’s a vampire, there’s probably at least an inkling of trauma there after living, dying and coming back as something other than yourself. No sane person would be the same after that, especially when taking into account all the symptoms. Before his transition, he could do mundane things. Enjoy the pleasantries of life like the sun and sleeping and food. 
Nowadays, all it seems he craves is blood and power. Flesh of whatever he can get his greedy little hands on. The upper hand in any possible argument. Both make what Astarion is on the surface, but looking at him now, wondering what else lies behind that thick, defensive coat of first impressions, you know there are other things. Nicer ones he refuses to showcase. 
They’re the details of his life before everything. Traits reserved only for himself, and for some uncharacteristic reason, you’re tempted to find out what they are. 
“If you need to…” Trailing off, you feel your stomach twist at the realization of what you’re about to offer. The consequences are high, maybe even too high, but perhaps the benefits could be deemed higher. At this point, you’re certain no one else will give him what he needs. They’re all too noble or guarded to allow Astarion, regardless of his current allegiance, to drink. 
They don’t trust him. And even though you find yourself in the same boat, feeling the skepticism of your words start to echo in the back of your mind, you know it’s the most logical thing to do. Sure, it may not be the right one. By a long shot, it’s probably one of the worst ideas you’ve ever had, but you know deep down that it’s necessary for your survival. To ensure that, when all this blows over and the potential of you going your separate ways occurs, Astarion doesn’t view you as an enemy.
“If you need to drink, you can.” 
His eyes widen only a bit. Just enough for you to notice the slight shock that spreads across his features. “I can?” 
There’s a reluctance you feel begin to bubble up but instead of acting on it you merely shut it down, nodding your head. “Yes, but only a little. Don’t want you bleeding me dry before this whole thing is all over.” 
Somehow that makes him laugh. “Oh, darling, I wouldn’t dream of such a thing.” 
You force yourself not to smirk as he lies through his teeth. Knowing him, he’d suck you dry if it weren’t for the fact that there’s safety in numbers. “Unfortunately for me this isn’t a dream.” 
“Fair point,” he replies, taking a short step forward. After that he slowly begins to crouch towards the ground, watching you closely —focusing on the rise and fall of your chest as his face falls mere inches from yours. “For now though, I promise to do no such thing.”
“And you’re certain you’ll keep it?”  
He hums, a grin pulling at his cheeks. “For now,” he muses. “In the future though…”
He’s so close you can feel his breath. Hot and heavy puffs pushed through a low, far too sultry tone of voice that has you pressing your lips together in a thin line. 
Out of everyone, Astarion’s always been the most intriguing. The one you’ve had this constant back and forth with, debating whether or not to approach or run. Aside from the obvious vampirism, it’s quite obvious that he isn’t like the others. From what you’ve been able to piece together, he doesn’t have a cause. A God or some sort of leader he’s willing to lay down the law for. He’s not noble like Wyll or faithful like Shadowheart. He’s just Astarion. A bloodied wolf all by his lonesome, following the rest of the pack. 
You’re sure he has desires like the rest of them. Wants and needs that’ll inevitably be gifted to him at the end of this —so long as you all survive. Like everyone else, he has a purpose in mind, but what that purpose is is unbeknownst to you thanks to the charm he offers in replacement of the truth. Because of this, he feels almost like a treasure chest. A trove of untold riches kneeling before you, tempting you to open. 
“I’m sure the future will have us far enough away from each other where that doesn’t happen, so I won’t worry.” 
Almost immediately, he can tell you’re fishing for information. The way his brow slightly upturns and the flirtatious grin across his face transitions into more of a smirk. It makes you internally curse, knowing that no matter how hard you try you’ll never beat him at his own game. His way with words is too precise. Too calculated, even for someone like you who grew up convincing people of your lies. 
“You never know. Perhaps after this is all over I’ll follow you. Linger amongst the shadows until the time is right.” 
You can’t tell if he’s kidding. His voice is too convincing to be completely certain, so you merely roll your eyes. “Yes, well, if you do decide to drink me to death, be sure to make it quick.” 
He clicks his tongue, leaning slightly further in. “What would be the fun in that though?”
There’s an unfamiliar ache inside your chest. A rupture of pain that wreaks havoc against your ribcage, pounding. Now that he’s close to you, you can assume it’s always been there but because he’s so good at posing a distraction you weren’t fully aware of it until now. 
“Fair point,” you repeat his words back to him, deeply inhaling just as the tadpole suddenly shifts in tandem with your chest. Ebbing and flowing across your inner eye in time with your shaky breath, you notice Astarion pick up on it, humming knowingly. 
“You fear me, don’t you?” 
Despite the answer being blatantly obvious, your lips remained sealed. Closed off, regardless of the truths the rest of your body spills. 
“It’s quite alright, darling. It’s normal. Creatures of the night are hardly meant to be trifled with.” 
He’s in your face now, a mere hair’s length away, once again baring his teeth. Against your lips, you can feel the movement of his words pushing through the air, coating you in further reluctance as the withheld breath inside you finally releases. As it hits his face, he blinks and pulls away. Ever so slightly giving you the space you need to recollect your thoughts and swallow back the fear. 
He’s terrifying. Even you have to admit that. Unlike Lae’zel he’s more calculated in his intimidation, opting to pull you in —to make you feel comfortable— before he ultimately strikes. Because of this, his threats feel more authentic. Less like simple tactics used to get you to back off. They aren’t words of warning —they’re promises. Declarations of a moment he’s more than willing to make a reality if given the chance.
“Do you want my blood or not, Astarion?”
Your patience is thin. Your chest is in pain and while the tadpole inside unwittingly reaches out to his, driving you both closer as he instructs you to lie back down and get comfortable, all you can feel is temptation. Desire. 
Upon resting your head, you feel the connection between you grow stronger. Inside, your head flashes with icy sensations that trickle down towards your neck. Small tremors of what’s to come as Astarion positions himself around you. 
When he leans down, there’s a moment where you think of retracting. This is all too sudden, you think. A mistake made in hopes of gaining the upper hand. Just moments ago you were made unaware of the full potential of Astarion’s charms, but now that you’re lying beneath him, awaiting the moment he sinks his teeth into your flesh, you can feel the regret begin to build.
“It won’t last.”
Pulling yourself from your thoughts, you look to see him staring over top of you. Both of his arms are planted on either side of your head, bending at the elbow so that he’s low and close. “I’m sorry?”
“The pain. It won’t last long, I promise.”
Strangely enough, he sounds sincere. Not that that means much when a good portion of the words that exit his lips are lies. Still though, instead of returning to that previous headspace you merely breathe and nod, waiting for the moment the tadpole’s connection vibrates with confirmation and Astarion begins to lean in. 
It’s a slow process. Above you, his shoulders shift, pushing his arm to cup the back of your head and expose your neck. Against your skull, Astarion tightens his grip to steady the endless thoughts that race through your mind as you share a glance. It’s small but important. A moment of recognition that tonight is not the night you die at his hand, but merely a preview of what might come if your paths wrongfully cross. 
At the last second, you give him a curt nod and feel him dip, running the tip of his tongue along your jugular before the presence of teeth poke holes through your flesh. At first, it's painful. The blood that’s sucked through your veins pulsates through the open wound in stinging waves as you feign a soft groan. Then Astarion’s grip around your head tightens at the sound, pushing you further into his mouth. Further into the euphoria he takes as the feeling transcends into something numbingly cold. 
Your eyes flutter shut at his continued feed. The feeling in your hands begins to fade even as you somehow find them moving to Astarion’s back, one of them pressing against his shoulder, the other finding purchase in his locks. At that point, you can feel Astarion moan against you, desperation filling his every cell as his teeth shift further into your neck, prompting your eyes to shoot open. 
He’s going to kill you at this rate. To drink you drier than an insect's husk, so, through half-conscious pushes, you tell him to stop. To let go and to keep his promise as you grip the roots of his hair and pull. 
As it happens you see his eyes shift to yours. They’re blown out completely, the whites of his eyes stained red to match his ruby pupils. For a moment, they remain locked to your half-lidded ones, honing in on the way they start to flutter again before you see them tightly close. Then he finds himself ripping away and gasping for air. Coughing through the thick blood that coats his tongue as he stares down at your neck.
The wound is only slightly gaping. Two well-defined puncture wounds sit side by side, but at the moment you can’t feel them. Instead, there’s still only numbness. A space of nothing that lingers between your head and chest, making you shift to sit up and place your hand there, finding more blood. 
“See? Over before you know it, right?” He laughs but all you do is glare. 
“You almost killed me.”
“Ah, yes, but notice the key word being almost.” 
If you weren’t so heavy-headed you’d punch him in the throat. Maybe strangle him if you could get the right angle. “Yes, fine, you’ve had your fun. Now, do you need anything else or am I fine to pass out now?” 
You expect him to say something else. To make some quip about the safety measures of post-bloodsucking, but he doesn’t. Instead, he merely inches closer, staring at you as he reaches for your bloodied hand and pulls it close. 
Once again, your tadpole wriggles against your will. Throughout your skull, it practically dances as Astarion glances down, taking two of your fingers into his mouth with careful precision. If anyone were to see they’d most likely faint at the mere lewdness of it. Frozen in time, your body refuses to move as he laps the blood off your skin, staring at you through hooded eyes that make you want to scream.
You’ve never been in this kind of position before. Sure, you’ve experienced many kinds of intimacy, both sexual and not, but somehow this feels different. Forbidden, in a sense. As if sharing this moment is not only wrong but also against some sort of ethical code. 
At first, you wonder if it’s because blood isn’t necessarily something that’s given. Always taken. In battle, it’s ripped from your skin through the means of injury. Punctured or sliced out of you at the hands of a sword. No bond goes along with it. No mutual agreement that any life will remain once the deed is over. 
But then you begin to think of Astarion. The elven vampire now infected with the Illithid. Like you, he’s been changed. Subtly shifted into something new. Overall, your transformation isn’t nearly as different as his. Before the infection, you could still enjoy the pleasantries of being human, but still, there’s this connection that draws you towards him. It makes its presence known within the tadpole. Throughout the movements that echo in your minds as Astarion cleans the last of the blood away, looking at you with soft eyes.
“I consider this a gift, you know,” he says, dropping your hand, and moving away to stand without so much as a thought. 
You blink back your confusion, trying your best to focus on the genuine-looking smile that appears as he takes a few steps backwards, never breaking eye contact until he telepathically adds I won’t forget it then stalks away. 
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summertimemusician · 6 months
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Linktober Day 9
Deity
*sneezes after downing coffee* Well irl stuff got in the way so I'm way behind my original schedule for these and for Linktober but here we go with another arguably short one, fuelled purely by self indulgence, headcanons, spite against my linguist essays that kept me from keeping to schedule, severe sleep deprivation, a shout out to the Ender Lilies soundtrack and Majora's Mask soundtrack, and Nintendo for not clarifying anything about the lore so I'm snatching what I can and making it my own lol. Look, when you fíxate so much on details the Zelda team doesn't elaborate on you have to fill in the gaps with what you can.
As always can be read as romantic or platonic, technically in a LU context but not explicitly in it by itself.
The Lord of the Mountain liked hearing people sing.
In a way, it wasn’t a surprise, Hylia and the Golden Three each had their ballads and symphonies and minuets, each splendid and with cuts of their divinity in it, Farore was fond of lightning and forest alive minuets, and you could swear Farosh sparked just a bit brighter when one would him the beginnings of the Minuet of the Forest near their spring, Din was fond of boleros, fiery and alive and howling with the echo of flame touching earth that made a shine run through Dinraal’s scales, Nayru, in contrast, was much fonder of blizzard and river quiet serenades, the songs of contemplation at first snow ringing clear when Naydra curled around it’s spring, content to be free of Malice.
And of course Hylia had her ballads and lullabies, perfectly fitting to her display of divinity, of honey days and vast bird like wings, of ambered summers to come and to pass and dazzling solar storms of starlight and sunlight sparking through the human form of her descendants and heroes. So in a way, you weren’t surprised at all that the Lord of the Mountain – Satori, with a familiar touch of londsleite divinity, the hunt of the woodland beasts and diamondscar adoration for the Hero of the Wilds, similar in glory to the Light Spirits petrichor and vermeil fondness for the Hero of the Twilight – liked to listen to people sing. What you were surprised was how it attempted to follow along, it’s head across your lap the second you sat down in the clearing, a gentle hum on back of it’s throat, an owl’s cry and a cicada’s humming and faintly, chirring purring as presses it’s faces into your hands, a gentle request for petting.
It was adorable, even with the faint notes of the chill of clear spring water on winter and the livewire feeling of magic, like holding your hand too close to a flame but not quite touching it.
A low chuckle brushes against the back of your mind, a feeling like biting on ice, the prowl of a wild beast and the build up of lightning and light used to create his blade, the amused affection of a warrior reconvening with their brother in arms, you think you see the bone ivory of the Deity’s hair on the side of your vision, though you know he’s not physically there, ‘He likes you.’
You hum, gently patting behind it’s ears, pushing through the chill, gracefully not mentioning the burning with a smile at the mythic being’s faint chirring, birdsong and the wind through cherry blossoms that sparkle like rose quartz, “Well I quite like him too, I can see where it’s gentleness comes from.”
The ghost of a touch over your hair, the caress of lightning striking over your skin and the hair on the back of your neck pricking up and the crisp cold of winter, the chill of the ending and the flame of a new dawn, of new days, the phantom of magnolias and spring water on your tongue. The fragrance of pine, daffodils and blood soaked lilies on ashen fields on your senses, gentle and careful, marking but not claiming, ‘Only because it’s you, beloved. It’s not something easily given.’
You sigh, shakily composing yourself, you let yourself relax into the phantom sensation. Of hopes and dreams and healed suffering, of the divinity of hunt turned into protection and lightning given form, of tangled timelines and crystalized memories, “I know. It does not change my opinion, either way.”
To be the subject of a god’s care and regard was dangerous, after all. For the human and the deity in question, you know the stories from your world well, of the effects of Hylia on First and Sky, of Twilight and the personification of the Twilight Realm and the spirits of his land, of Wild and clawing from death’s embrace into that of the wilderness.
Knew how the fact the Fierce Deity’s mere proximity causing pain on those who changed him into hunting for hunt’s sake into protection for the sake of someone else cut deeper than even the ever encroaching entropy all beings must one day face. It was no wonder the Song of Healing was his creation, to want to ease the burden.
You gladly grant him some peace, in turn, even if it wasn’t much. It’s the least you can do, for always having his ways of watching over your heroes.
“Join me? We can make a duet.”
You feel more than see him shift, ephemeral, fleeting, gentle against the edges of your existence, as foreign to Hyrule as your own, sparking over your spine as you feel ozone and rust on your teeth. Satori is humming again to match the rumble of thunder in the man’s voice, the heralding of songs of war and elegies for the dead, ‘Of course, though I’m afraid I do not know many songs, besides…’
“It’s alright,”, you smile faintly, there’s a white ocarina in his hands, as he leans, a spectre against your side, “I’ll teach you some of my own, though you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t remember all the lyrics.”
‘It would be my honor to learn.’
You think he smiles, from the fluttering of something ancient and long forgotten against your side.
You sing to Satori and the Chain, a small respite of familiar and forgotten tunes, the Lord of the Mountain hums along. The Fierce Deity’s song cutting through any nightmares that may ail your heroes for another night.
When the dawn of a new day comes, the feeling of divinity against your skin feels just a bit more obvious, sinking into every crack of your being like a shroud, falling over your boys like a veil, reflecting the breath of eternity over Hyrule.
(First gives you a look that’s half exasperation, half understanding. Sky pointedly sticks to your side as Time looks you over, markings deep with vibrant color. You shrug with a helpless smile as you feel the lightest brushes of Hylia’s fond days of gold and starlit summers days against the Lord of the Mountains warm, luminous affection and the Fierce Deity’s smug, but content lonsdaleite smile.)
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wanderingelvis · 9 months
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WanderingElvis' Summer Writing Challenge! 🧚
So.... I'm gonna give myself a target of posting 30 pieces of written content about Elvis by the beginning of September! It might be an imagine, a chapter of Sparkly Little Thing or a headcanon, but whatever it is, it'll be Elvis themed!
I have some drafts ready for posting, but if you have any requests, my inbox is open too - go wild!! I'm really excited about this, I want to post stuff that I'm proud of and I want to be more consistent too! 🧚
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I'll post each new bit of writing here too like a mini-masterlist, but it'll always be on my actual Masterlist too! 1. HEADCANON: The way Elvis interacts with Innocent F!Reader in public
2. HEADCANON: You and 70s!Elvis have a controversial age gap but his opinion is the only one you care about
3. Alternate Ending: After giving Innocent!Reader her first orgasm, Elvis watches her fall into little space
4. One of the Memphis Mafia's friends tries to take advantage of Innocent!F Reader
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demonslayeranimex · 9 days
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_________________________________________ hello everyone! This is a special fic for a very amazing writer, slay aka the one who encouraged and is probably the reason I'm writing a fanfic right now. also while I'm at it apologies for unannounced hiatus in my writing.
Ps this is a fic of Katsuki Bakugo, a character from Mha (my hero academia) and slay's oc, Kansatoki Hikari so this won't be a character x reader, at least for this fic.
@slayfics hope you enjoy this fic and your birthday
_________________________________________
As Kansatoki started to wake up, rubbing her eyes slowly, having no energy at all to deal with people and the day in general. Then as she looked over to her phone, there was a notification from her calendar app, what now she thought as she clicked it, still groggy in the process.
As she saw the date on her phone, her eyes widened when she saw the date, March 17th. It was her birthday today, she almost forgot about that type of thing as she didn't have any fond memories of this day. She hoped none of her classmates would remember or even pay attention to it.
Kansatoki started to get ready for the day, there weren't any classes today so she didn't need to wear her black uniform, so she grabbed an oversized t-shirt and some shorts. Then she forced herself to go out of her dorm then made her way downstairs.
After the signal appeared from the elevator, indicating that it was the bottom floor, Kansatoki exited it, only to be greeted by a massive amount of people greeting her happy birthdays and stuff like that. As she scanned the room, looking for a specific person, only to find he wasn't there. She was confused so she searched around, planning to ask his friend where he was. He would know, right?
"Hey Kirishima, where's Bakugo?" Kansatoki asked
"Oh hey Kansa! Bakugo said and I quote "I'm not spending my rest day with you extras" so that might be the reason why you can't find him" he explained, she laughed a bit at the answer. I guess she would expect him to be locked in his room, this was bakugo we were talking about after all.
After that short conversation, Kansatoki got to the elevator once again, heading for bakugo's floor.
After she got there, she started to bang on his door loudly. After a while Bakugo opened the door with a scowl plastered on his face.
"Oi! What the hell do you want, you damn women. You're gonna break down my door" he reprimanded, talking loudly like always.
"You're not even going to be nice for a girl on her birthday? What kind of gentlemen are you?" Kansatoki teased, of course bakugo being mean was always the standard but she just couldn't help but tease him for it.
"Yeah yeah. Happy birthday or whatever" he retorted, clearly being forced to say it. Then he took his hand out of his pocket, revealing a small box. As he opened it, Kansatoki saw a black necklace with the initials K.H on it.
"Getting soft now are we Bakugo?" Kansatoki taunted him, as she took the box from him and examined it closely, almost not believing that it was a gift from Bakugo.
"I swear to god tell a soul and I'll fucking kill you women" he grumbled, but knowing him, he might just actually do it. She laughed it off as she wasted no time, taking the necklace outside the box then wearing it.
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marvelsassbutts · 9 months
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Imagine Me And You, I Do
Maria Rambeau got it bad for the blonde.
Fandom: Captain Marvel; Marvel (MCU)
Rating: M
Pairing: Carol Danvers/Maria Rambeau
Words:   5,579
Link: Imagine Me And You, I Do
Preview under the cut!
It’s nearing 4AM when Maria realizes she’s not going to be able to sleep until she does it. She tries to ignore the way the sheets feel teasing against her skin and how her thighs pressed together don’t stave off the need but instead encourage it. She tries to force herself to sleep, to ignore it, to picture someone else but it’s feeling like an impossibility. There’s only one way out and it’s through.
So, at 4:03, Maria gives up resisting and lets her right hand fall between her open legs as her imagination falls on Carol Danvers. She’s already heated and the first touch against her more sensitive areas has Maria biting down on her lower lip and her head turning into her pillow. Images of Carol hovering over her, touching her herself, flood Maria’s mind. She can almost hear her encouraging Maria and almost feel her breath on her neck. Maria trails her own hand up to her chest and pictures Carol cupping her fully and pinching with just the right amount of pressure that Maria likes.
She cums quietly, muffling the sound into her pillow and pressing her lips together and while she lies there catching her breath she still thinks about Carol. How she’s just down the hall probably already asleep and definitely not doing what Maria just did.
But….
What if she did? What if she is? What if Carol yearns for her in this way too? This new, surprising, out of left field, ‘what the hell am I doing this is so stupid’ way? This way that is purely carnal and nothing more. Maybe they could make something work in that aspect. Crazier things have happened and they’ve done stupider things for each other. It wouldn’t hurt to ask…. If Carol’s averse to it they could laugh it off and go back to normal. Maria’s sure of it.
So sure in fact that she’s standing outside of Carol’s door and she’s knocking three times and when she has to knock three more she’s granted a surprisingly non groggy, “Come in.”
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summerflingsandthings · 9 months
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Hey who wants to suffer through my stupid ass Pokémon Rom-Com DNF fic?
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summeryewberry · 2 years
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The White Dove
https://archiveofourown.org/works/39356373 The White Dove by Summer Yewberry
Fandom: Captive Prince Rating: Mature Keywords: Drama, Angst, Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Politics, Courtly Intrigue, Post-Book 3: Kings Rising, Family Drama, Brotherly Love, Fix-It, Auguste Lives, Miraculous Resurrection, Fairy Tale Elements, The Veretian Court, Mild Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Original Characters, Disregards the Short Stories Length: 30,000 words Status: Complete
Summary: As Laurent works to stabilise his kingdom after his uncle's defeat, a man shows up in Arles looking exactly like Auguste. Since it's not possible for his brother to be back, there's only one possible explanation: someone is trying to hurt Laurent and challenge him for the throne once again.
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Not sure what this is, but it's somethin'. I have more in my notes.
Thorne and Dan were awakened by the sound of a pounding on their door. "It's the police; open up!" Thorne had written a letter to the police; they had been not only a witness to the murder of a young boy but an accomplice to murder.
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summer-time · 6 months
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For anyone following me for the next update on my fic "The Ballad of the Boiling Sun and the Death Wolf", sadly my computer crashed this afternoon. I don't know why, but tomorrow I will go to someone hoping they can fix it.
I dearly hope they can: I'm not in any financial shape to replace it. And hope that I've not lost everything on it: not only the next chapter that was nearly completed (more than 12k) but also all my uni stuff.
I want to cry.
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tubesock86 · 10 months
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80s BABY!
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leave-her-a-tome · 1 year
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tripleyeeet · 7 months
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A LOVER'S FOLLY
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"THEY DIE FOR LOVE —YOU KILL FOR IT."
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PAIRINGS: Astarion & Female Reader
TAGS: 18+ sexual content (eventually), idiots in love, mutual pining, friends to lovers, contains Baldur’s Gate 3 spoilers!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, the Astarion/BG3 brain rot got too much so I had to write a fic about it. Hope you enjoy! :)
MASTERLIST
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PLAYLISTS:
magnificent bastard!
a lover's folly
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CHAPTERS:
bleed you dry
the rogue tax
if thoughts could tease
fear of losing it
painful vulnerabilities
i care for you
where's your patience?*
i'm starving, darling
in unfair hands we're dealt
a foolish lover's offering
guard dog
go slow
deliverance, deliver me
i'll crawl home to her
my love is mine, all mine
*chapter 16 coming soon!
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summertimemusician · 6 months
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Linktober Shadow Day 3
Twilight
Definitely self indulgent, just a small thing I managed to throw together after a sleep deprivation filled day.
My Twilight Princess lover side definitely comes out on this one, as well as some vague headcanons in a short drabble, as always can be read as platonic or romantic.
There was something special, you think, about the way autumn came in a howling moonson of glory into the Era of Twilight, heralding the coming of the temperate strokes over the woods in flowering tones of russet, bronze, maple and amethyst in gilding gold over the evergreen of Hyrule’s eternity in warmth even as the weather turned ever colder, the late afternoon sunset fleeting in it’s mercurial transition into the hour of twilight, only matched in honor to the abandoned forests of the Era of Sky, the enduring wealds of the Era of time and the untamed thickets of the Era of Wilds. Oh so contrasting to it’s hero but no less lovely for it was a perfect balance, when you first met Twilight (or well, got properly acquainted, really, but that’s a story for another day), it was clear he was no less captivating than his homeland, as steady as the oaks and pines stretching towards the heavens and with the kindness of it’s people, was it any wonder then, that you found it easy to love the man with the loyalty and eyes of wolf to match the divine beast in his soul?
So it was why through a long, long period of trying to make the true extent of your feelings as unseen as a dream after waking hours and trying to hide just how enamored you had slowly become, that you became well acquainted with the tells that showed something weighted on his mind as you left Ordon’s Spring after washing Epona for the long road ahead tomorrow. The way his head hang just a little, ears lowering to match the way Wolfie’s would when he gently nudged one of the members of the Chain into holding him after a nightmare as his walls attempt to come back up, as solemn as a wolf in mourning.
Ever so responsible, ever steady. Trying to take the world onto his shoulders as any hero would.
He should have know it wouldn’t work on you, not after all you’ve been through.
“Rupee for your thoughts?” Your tone gently broke through the stillness of the stream as you fed Epona an apple, Twilight’s ears twitch as he turns towards you, softening as he notes the way the twilit enchanted sunlight lingered upon your visage in a most ephemeral way, shadows holding affectionately and brightening the stars of your eyes and the liminal nature of this moment and how Epona neighs, gently nudging the side of your hand for more rubs or maybe apples he knew you loved sneaking to her when he wasn’t looking, making your airy, fae like laughter free to be taken by the breeze.
“Reminiscing, is all.” He answer you, tone a low rumbling of the fall winds and like handling mirror shards into something new and beautiful as he privately holds onto the memory of your smile, holding it with claws and teeth for he can never quite be sure for how long he’ll have it, “It feels like a lifetime ago since...”
Since the start of his journey, since the beginning of his new one in the throes of attempting to settle in Ordon to lick his wounds after the lingering shaded reality of another realm settled into the crevices of his soul and marrow after grabbing the neck of the beast inside his being and biting down onto the hackles had left the injury open to bleed again.
Since losing Midna shattered his heart and killed him all at once, leaving him to live a life of haunting his own existence until you looked at him, all of him, and guided him back to life. Picking the shards of his heart and slowly putting them back together with the care of someone he’d seen mourn for an unfortunate nightingale on the road even as you cut yourself when he attempted to push you away.
You nod, gently resting your head on his shoulder, your gaze flicking to the Shadow Crystal, you don’t press about Midna and Twilight feels so, so warm, breathing out, you were both working on it, slowly but surely. Midna may not be dead, but he knew her absence left you haunted too, “Does it still hurt?” The twisting of reality upon his form, drawing from a well of ambition from long gone spirits who’d attempted to grab at the Goddesses throat, and the way the darkness so fiercely claimed any part of his he could touch. Making both of your shadows darker as the veil between worlds thinned, refusing to allow anything else to attempt a claim.
He shakes his head, gently putting his chin atop yours, “No, not anymore.”
You hum, gently nudging his chin in a sweet, adoring nuzzle, “I’m glad, then.”
You both remain on the spring until night falls, basking into one another’s presence and soaking into the timeless moment of learning to love one another as you can.
Twilight silently wishes that, just this once, he’s allowed to keep this the same way the Twilight Realm still keeps the old him.
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bejeweledbaby · 1 month
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obsessed with fics where steve and eddie were each other's first kiss when they were children but they don't connect the dots when they meet again as adults. Neither realize that this eddie is that eddie and this steve is that steve.
let me set the scene:
the older kids are having a small get together at steve's place and they're all sharing their first kiss stories. eddie starts regaling the group with the story of his first kiss with this beautiful boy at summer camp who had gorgeous hazel eyes and the softest hair. steve thinks the story sounds a little too similar to his first kiss. he starts connecting the dots when he realizes the chocolate button doe eyes he used to dream about years ago are the same chocolate button doe eyes he's been dreaming about in recent months. when it's steve's turn to share his first kiss story, he's like, "well, actually you've already heard it." and now eddie's connected the dots and pulls him into the bathroom to kiss about it. and there's some heartfelt love confessions and then they ride off into the sunset together.
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becca-e-barnes · 9 months
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I need more of needy Bucky who loses control from the feeling of being inside your pussy. I need him to fuck me like a rag doll and to carry me over his shoulder around the house like his personal flesh light.
Fuck, this has always been one of my very favourites to write. I really like to imagine that he struggles to last but he can keep going after he finishes 🙈 it's my lil filthy fantasy
But imagine spending the morning in bed with him. You both wake up around 6am and you spend the first little while just touching and chatting before a couple of hours of sex. Now it's maybe around 11am and after lying there together for a while, you're both in the mood for something to eat.
You pull a robe around you and that's just about as much as you manage before Bucky's scooped you up, carrying you to the kitchen.
"You don't need to carry me everywhere!" You tease, remembering that he'd carried you up the stairs to bed last night too.
"I know. But. Carrying you means. I. Can put you. Exactly. Where. I want you." He peppers kisses over your face and neck, tenderly capturing your bottom lip between his before he sets you up on the kitchen countertop.
There's no point arguing with him so you sit there quite happily. He makes up a quick pancake mix, washes some berries from the fridge, preps the coffee machine and sets the little dining table for the two of you.
Somewhere in between, you got a little distracted, perched on the counter scrolling on your phone. You hadn't noticed the way he's looking at you.
He's so caught up in the little things; the way the light hits your shoulder, the curve of your hips, the way the silhouette of your nipples are visible against the satin robe.
"Look at you, sitting there all sweet like your cunt isn't so fucking full of me."
That's got your attention.
You squirm a little, your body fluttering at how shamelessly vulgar he's being but nothing's stopping you from doing the same.
You spread your legs, exposing the slick mess coating your inner thighs. It's a mixture of your own arousal and Bucky's cum, dripping out of your sensitive cunt.
Your fingertips trail lazily over your exposed sex, your skin glistening in the natural light before you bring your fingers to your own lips, sucking them clean, giving him a little bit of a show.
"Tastes amazing, sweetheart." You groan, noticing the growing bulge in his thin pyjama bottoms. "But I lost track of how many times you came inside me this morning. You came so deep, most of your cum won't have dripped out yet. Bet I'm still totally stuffed full."
He sinks to his knees in no time, settling his head between your thighs, breathing in the faint smell of your arousal. His tongue presses flat to your sex, trailing from your hole to your clit and back, gathering as much of your combined release as possible.
He groans, low and pathetic, allowing his tongue to dip inside you as deep as he can bury it. He savours every drop of cum he earns back from your body.
When his tongue alone isn't enough, he slips a finger into you, followed quickly by a second, curling them against your sensitive inner wall.
"Bucky baby, please don't make me cum again." You groan, your fingers tangled in his dark hair but you know he's not giving you that choice. Not when his free hand is furiously stroking his own cock, desperate to ensure that when he's finished licking his cum out of you, he can flood your cunt with another load.
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marvelsassbutts · 2 years
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Powerless
Set during The Blip. Carol Visits Maria at the hospital.
Fandom: Captain Marvel; Marvel (MCU)
Rating: G
Pairing: Carol Danvers/Maria Rambeau
Words: 5570
Link: Powerless
Preview under the cut!
The shrill, steady beeping from the machine is incessant. Irksome in its high pitch and tiresome with its perfectly spaced silences. It grinds against one's ears and prickles on the nerves. Even when far from it, the beeping continues in the back of the mind – mockingly and hauntingly like a spirit, never making itself fully known by always standing just a foot behind you. You can never get rid because you can’t prove it’s there. Slowly driving you insane.
Beep…Beep…Beep.
She breathes in. It’s the most horrific, taunting, abysmal sound she’s ever heard.
Beep…Beep…Beep.
She breathes out. What a perfect symphony.
On the other side of it all, Carol adores the noise. The chirping of the monitor sings out like a bell, peals throughout the room as light as a child’s laughter. The beeping coats her in warmth, lets her know it’s there for her and for the one she loves. It comforts her, soothes her. It whispers, “She’s okay,” into her ear and steadies her breathing.
Because as much as she hates it, as much as she wishes she could blow a hole through the monitors and the tubes and the godforsaken building as a whole - as much as she wishes she never learned what that fucking beeping sounded like, the beeping means Maria’s alive.
Carol takes in another breath and closes her eyes for seconds before allowing them to slowly open. She listens to the beeping and hates the way she relies on it.
“Where’s your head at?” Maria’s been asleep for the past three hours and it seems Carol’s missed her waking up which is a shame really. Maria's always so beautiful when she's waking up.
Carol’s eyes lift and the world falls away. All other sounds quiet. Whatever strength she chose to rely on is no longer needed as her humanity takes over and all necessity is fulfilled by Maria. Her loving, her precious, her forever beaming Maria.
Carol smiles and she feels that it's small but no less powerful. It still makes Maria’s eyes sparkle a fraction brighter.
Carol replies, “On you,” and Maria’s eyes shine. She grins and looks away, flattered.
“Why’re you thinkin’ about me?”
“I'm always thinking about you.” Carol leans forward in her seat and picks Maria’s hand off of the mattress and kisses it. “Always, always.”
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