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mooshywrites · 2 months
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Making It Our Own
Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Female!Tav
Masterlist
Art commissions
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A/N - Kinda a continuation of my last fluff, slice of life kind of affair
Word Count - 3.1K
Warnings - NSFW, MDNI, smut, fingering, unprotected sex, fluff/soft dom Astarion, aftercare if you squint, multiple orgasms, biting because thats practically required with this man, overall straight degeneracy
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“How else will we make this place our own, my darling?”
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“Why in all the god’s names, would they have the staircase here?” Astarion wondered, exasperated.
You smiled softly, looking over the slightly rickety stairs before him. They were a little in the foreground of the room, awkwardly jutting out beside the selling desk.
“Beggars can’t be choosers, my love.” You responded, kissing his cheek sweetly.
”With the amount of hard-earned gold I spent on this place, you would think someone would have at least dusted before we moved in.” He complained, dragging a finger across the desk, holding up the collection of caked dirt.
You fought the urge to scoff at the thought of Astarion actually earning any amount of money, but you contained yourself knowing he did put a fair amount of effort into having this small shop be his own.
For the entire idea of Astarion running a shop starting as a halfhearted tease, you could hardly believe you were actually standing in the place now. It had taken a few months of odd jobs, even odder quests, and… well… yes, there was some thievery involved in getting enough coin to buy the little shop on the corner of the quietest part of Baldur’s Gate. It must have been a bakery, or perhaps a tiny bed and breakfast before the two of you, because it sported a surprisingly large kitchen in the back along with four midsize rooms upstairs. Of course, if it were any of those things, it must have long long not been occupied.
“I’m sure it won’t take long to make the place exactly what you want, Astarion.” You murmured, trying to be optimistic. You looked up at your pale elf, seeing his mouth in a tight line. His eyes peering accusingly at the grime and disrepair on the first floor. Luckily, from your investigating, the upstairs level seemed to fair a bit better.
”Darling, it will take half of a century to even make it look clean” Astarion chuckled, turning his attention back down onto you. “It may be a disaster, but I do suppose it is our disaster.”
”That’s the spirit.” You grinned up at him. “Where should we start then?”
Astarion shook her head decisively, “You can start upstairs. I won’t have your pretty little hands working yourself to the bone on this mess. Or dirtying your new dress.”
Your hands idly smoothed your skirt, fingers running over the delicate gold flowers expertly embroidered across the fabric. Astarion insisted he began practicing his sewing in preparation for the shop and your clothes, of course, were his first choice of material. The simple green gown you were wearing today was covered in dainty flowering vines.
“Perhaps you’re right,” you sighed. “I can think of much better ways to ruin one of your projects than covering it in dirt.” You added, gesturing to the dress.
Astarion leaned back on the desk casually, his eyebrows raising, “What possible ways could you be talking about, pet?” He asked, his voice too sickly sweet and innocent to be anything other than a thinly veiled tease.
Well… two could play that game. You gave him a small smile, stepping forward to place your hands on his chest. You didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened slightly at the movement.
“I just mean that if your hard work is to be dirtied, it better be worth it.” You shrugged.
Astarion couldn’t help but smirk, knowing your innocent attitude was as much of an act as his own. His face inched closer, voice only above a whisper now, “I can think of a few ways that would be more worth your time, love.”
“And those would be?” You almost didn’t recognize your own voice, practically breathless even with only the hint of his words.
”Oh, pet. I think you already know.” He practically purred. “How else will we make this place our own?”
You barely had time to respond before the words were swallowed by Astarion’s searing kiss. His lips molded against your own, coaxing a small muffled moan from your chest. His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. Your own arms wound around his neck, fingertips coming up to lace their way into his curly white locks.
”I’m afraid your beautiful dress may be sullied, yet,” Astarion murmured, pulling back for a moment, “There isn’t a surface here that is suitable enough for you to lay upon.”
”’Lay upon?’ Why would I need to do that?” You whispered, feigning ignorance.
Astarion’s hands fell to just below your butt before suddenly hooking your legs up and around him. You don’t even have time to chastise him before you’re spun around and placed on the dust covered desk.
”Astarion, my dress-!” You squeaked.
His eyes rolled in response, his hands sliding up the sides of your dress. “For god’s sake, darling, I’ll make you a new one.”
He leaned in once more, this time, pressing a chaste kiss to your jaw, effectively silencing your argument. You tilted your head back, giving him better access to the crook of your neck. You sucked in a shaky breath as you felt the points of his fangs grazing feather light across the sensitive skin, goosebumps erupting on your skin and heat settling in your lower stomach. You could practically feel him smile against you at your reaction, always proud to make you putty between his hands.
His lips and teeth continued to dance down your neck, pausing for a moment on the sweet spot just above your collarbone. The movement completely distracts you from how his hands continue to sneak their way up your legs.
That is, until, you felt his fingertips drag slowly against the clothed heat between your legs.
Your breath caught in your throat, eyes meeting Astarion’s as he lifted his gaze, smirking. ”Why darling,” he purred. “Whatever did I do to deserve this silence?”
You threw him a half-hearted glare, not trusting your voice to deliver a retort in case it proved the point he was already trying to make. Instead, you pulled his face towards your own, locking him into a passionate kiss. You earned a particularly delicious groan as you gently dragged your tongue along his lower lip, silently prodding for access.
He graciously allowed your tongue in, exploring with his own. His fingers worked in tandem with his tongue, tracing feather light figure eights, seeming to be avoiding where you needed him most purposefully.
You whined into the kiss, causing the vampire to chuckle darkly, “What’s the matter, pet? Pained are we?” He teased.
”Just… touch me.” You begged, not at all embarrassed at how quickly you became desperate for him.
Luckily, the plea’s seemed to have the desired effect, a content sigh escaping you as cold finger moved your panties aside and pressed against your cunt.
”My, my.” He whispered, lips moving to catch the shell of your ear in a gentle bite. “It didn’t take long at all for you to be practically weeping for me.”
All you could do was whine as his middle finger dipped shallowly into your heat. He was right, of course, it took practically no time for him to bring you to tears with his fingers, your core clenching at just the thought of what he could do with those sinful hands.
You leaned back just enough to get a better view of him, his hair a mess from your own hands, his lips plump from your bruising kiss, his pointed gaze a shade darker than usual as he eyed you hungrily. Your chest rose and fell shakily, taking in the sight before you.
“Gods, you’re beautiful.” You whispered, barely even aware the words had escaped your own thoughts.
His eyes blinked in surprise before a warm smile fell across his face, leaning in to press a surprisingly innocent kiss upon your nose. “Aren’t I just?”
You could have guessed that would have been his reaction, your elf hiding behind a veil of humor anytime he was uncomfortable with a compliment or praise. I mean, showing emotions is difficult, isn’t it? Someday, you would have to find a way to make him take the compliment. But how? Bondage? A maid outfit? Constant teasing?
Your slightly crazed wandering thoughts were harshly interrupted as you felt Astarion’s finger sank deeper within you, his thumb brushing across the sensitive nub right above. Your yelp quickly transformed into a moan as his thumb began dancing in simple short circles, igniting the flame in your stomach to burn even brighter.
”Darling, you know how it hurts me so when you aren’t paying attention to me,” He prodded, voice thick with need and his ever present pout. “What could you be thinking about other than how well your dripping cunt takes my fingers.”
”N-Nothing,” you started, a moan interrupting your sentence as his finger began to pull in and out teasingly slow. “I was thinking about how to keep you from letting compliments roll off of you. Maybe it will take this-“
You brought up your hand to trace a fingertip along the ever growing bulge in his pants. Though he tried to hide it, you were very aware of how his brows drew forward, the way his mouth parted in a heavy breath.
“I assure you, it will take much more than that to entertain any of your praise.” He retorted.
“And how much more would that be?” You replied confidentially, riding the high of the reaction you were able to pull from him.
”Hmm,” he pondered, even having the audacity to look to the side as if in thought, all while his fingers continued their magic below him. His act gave way to a devilish smile as his focus returned to you.
”One orgasm, one compliment.”
”W-what?“ You squeaked, feeling your cheeks begin to redden immediately.
His finger curled deliciously forward, pressing against a point that had your mind quickly fogging over with lust. “You heard me, darling. For every orgasm I drag out of you, I will graciously accept one compliment.”
You couldn’t even begin to come up with a retort, your cunt giving every thought away as it squeezed hungrily around the pale elf’s single finger.
”Ill take that as a resounding yes.” He murmured, clearly proud of himself.
He slipped another finger in, expertly pumping them into you. His other hand reached up, pulling the top of your dress down in a quick tug. The cold air and the desire in the air had them hardening almost painfully. The man before you didn’t miss this development at all, mouth coming forward to nip at your breast playfully. His lips then closed around the hardened nipple, tongue swirling around it slowly. You could’ve drawn blood from how hard you were biting your lip, trying not to let your moans fill the small room.
It didn't take long for the vampire to return the affection to the other, his hand kneading the soft skin his mouth had just left. With his hands, his mouth, the slick sounds your own body was making, the coil below your stomach already felt wound too tight.
You felt the white hot burn at your lower breast, the pain of Astarion’s teeth mixing deliciously with the way the rough pad of his thumb presses hard against your clit. “Gods, Astarion.” You managed to get out, your hips beginning to rock helplessly against his hand.
”Too much, pet?” He replied simply against your skin, licking at the pinpricks of blood left behind by his teeth.
You shook your head furiously, the burn in your stomach becoming more demanding, your breaths uneven and strained. “P-please… please more.”
Astarion growled darkly, his hand moving faster, his mouth returning to your skin. The coil winds tighter, your moans falling into incoherent begs and whines. Astarion, sensing your oncoming high, deftly slips another finger into your folds.
Your vision pales as you cry out, muscles tensing while your orgasm crashes into you. Heat courses through your veins, arousal riding its course as the pale elf’s sinful mouth eases you through it. By the time you’ve regained your perception of which way is up, Astarion is smirking at you, accomplished haughtiness written across his face.
”I believe you’ve earned one compliment, my dearest. Make it count.”
”That was… You are,” You responded breathlessly, thoughts not quite forming correctly in your orgasm ridden brain. “You are amazing, Astarion.”
The man left out a soft chuckle, landing a kiss on your forehead. “Not the most impressive compliment I’ve ever received, but a deal is is a deal. Thank you, my pet.”
Realization crashed onto you. Did I just use my compliment to say something as useless as… that?
”No! No, that wasn’t my compliment, I deserve another go.” You pouted.
”Aht aht ah, we said ‘one orgasm,one compliment’. You can’t expect me to bend the rules for such a clearly made deal.”
“You can’t be serious! You know you can’t hold me to anything I say after coming down from something like that!.” You argued, not feeling ready to give up the fight quite yet.
”Honestly, darling, I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss! There’s a simple way to remedy this.” He said, a knowing smile adorning him.
”And what is that?” You replied, blankly.
Before you could guess his movements. His hands deftly ripped the thin fabric of your panties and reached to pull you flush against his bulge. ”You have another orgasm, of course. What was it you wanted? ‘another go’?”
The desire you had just released from your body hit you again, tenfold. Your own fingers began to work at the ties of his breeches.
”Slowly, darling.” Astarion chastises half heartedly. “We have all the time in the world.”
You knew his words were empty, you could tell by the way his jaw was clenched, pupils blown out with lust that he was as desperate for this as you were. You finally loosen the tie enough to pull the fabric down, releasing his erection to hit his stomach with a small slap.
Astarion let out a strained groan as you wrapped your hand around the length, your thumb swiping across the bead of precome leaking from the delicate slit. You looked up at him, taking in his reactions, greedily. His breaths came in labored heaves, hands gripping your sides as if it were his only anchor to reality.
”Now, now, no teasing, pet.” He tried to retain the cool and confident tone in his voice, but his words were rasped, an octave lower than usual.
You gave him an innocent smile, placing a quick kiss before whispering against his lips, “Then take me, love.”
It’s as if you have broken some sort of invisible chain holding him back. He kisses you harshly, teeth catching at your bottom lip. He adjusts your sitting position, hands pushing your thighs apart to give you access.
He pulls away, looking down at you bared before him, though he could never put the thoughts into words in this moment, you look absolutely ethereal. The ripped clothes, messy hair, big doe eyes looking up at him; he was absolutely undone.
His hips pushed forward, his member dragging through the wetness in between your legs. A strained groan erupts from his parted lips, eyebrows drawing close together, “Gods, darling… you’re perfect.”
You let out your own whine, hips greedily pushing forward, desperate for the friction or Astarion’s cock against your clit. He leans forehead to rest against your own, finally, finally, pushing into your awaiting cunt.
It finds no resistance as it thrusts to the hilt, the dew from your previous orgasm aiding its path. The room is almost completely silent, the both of you reveling in the feeling of the delightful stretch his body imposes upon you.
After a few moments, his darkened voice cuts through, “Please, darling. I must move.”
You nod wordlessly, craving the movement as much as he did. A low grunt was all the warning that you got.
Astarion’s hips snapped forward, setting a brutal pace of thrusts. Your moans fall over your lips with short breaths, hips trying to hold themselves up against the man.
Astarion’s hand reaches down further, holding some of your weight by gripping your ass, his other holding up his weight as he leans forward. His hot breath fans against your neck, head resting against you as if all of his energy is spent on roughly taking you.
Every drag of his heavy cock drives you higher and higher, sickly sinful slaps echoing amongst your embarrassingly loud moans.
“Gods above, pet.” Astarion manages, every word sounding like it took immense effort on his part. You felt his hips start to stutter, your own core beginning to clench hopelessly.
”Astarion, please! I- I…” You start, the pleasure rendering you mute.
”Come undone,” Astarion growls lowly, “Come undone with me.”
Your mouth opens to a silent scream, your cunt clenching hard around the thick member. Your hips jerk desperately, your nails digging into the pale elf’s arms. Astarion follows quickly behind you, pained grunts whispering out of his lips as he pushes deeply into your heat. You feel him twitch, warmth blooming through your lower stomach.
It’s a moment or two before the two of you touch back down to earth, both panting and clinging tightly to one another. When his head finally tilts up to meet your gaze, his eyes are full of affection, smiling softly.
You return him an affectionate smile, hands coming up to trace circles into his hair. ”So did I earn another compliment then?” You teased.
Astarion rolled his eyes, gently lowering you back down, “I suppose you do. Please make this one better than the last.”
You thought for a moment, wondering what would encapsulate your feelings the best. What would mean the most? After another beat or two, you realized there was no hope at a long and drawn out proclamation of love. It would have to start with something simple.
”I am so very lucky to be beginning a life like this with you.” You say sweetly, gesturing to the messy shop around you.
Astarion’s cheeks redden, still slightly unsure on how to go about accepting such loving words. “Well, ahem…” He cleared his throat looking around the room. “As am I.” He narrowed his eyes again at the layer of dust you sat upon. “After it’s clean of course. A task we should be getting back to.”
”Couldn’t agree more.” You sighed, pausing. “But there is one thing you have to do first.”
Astarion looked back at you, his voice lacking any usual tease, simply full of affection, “Anything you desire, darling.”
You giggle, giving him the sweetest smile you can manage.
”You have to pull out first.”
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hanrinz · 9 months
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✩ ‧ ₊˚ TO LOVE AND TO HOLD — MICHAEL KAISER
wherein your boyfriend is terrible at pick-up lines, but it's okay he's cute anyway.
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your boyfriend of four years, michael kaiser is terrible with a lot of things. namely, with his incapability of cooking meals, his terrible sense of time—if not for you maybe he won't even come to some grand events his team holds in time.
but this main habit of your boyfriend that just takes the prize, is him making awful pick-up lines.
may it be a line he saw from a rom-com movie or he's seen on the internet, he'll make it a mission to use it on you every single time.
what makes it worse, is that he doesn't even say it right.
your boyfriend is a lot of things, but using a good pick-up line is not one of them. your boyfriend is idiotically cute and sometimes a jerk.
it baffles your friends how you ended up with such a man like michael kaiser. maybe, it was his dumb jokes or his stupid face, you'll never know.
love is blind they said, maybe it's true for you.
on a cold afternoon, where you and kaiser are walking down on the road for a grocery run. the sun hides behind the clouds and the breeze blows through lightly.
scrolling through your phone as you check the list of the items you'll be buying. walking aimlessly as your boyfriend leads you, a hand placed on your lower back.
surprisingly he's quiet, looking at the buildings and the speck of white flakes that falls faintly on this day.
you continue to revel in the comfortable silence you were wrapped into, listing down some items you've been thinking on top of your head.
milk, strawberries, chocolates...
mind blanking from the things you need at your home, you turn to your lover. whose attention was taken by the surroundings, it's a rare sight to see.
your kaiser is quiet and deep in thought, an eerie scene in your honest opinion, but you don't point it out loud.
instead, you call out to him.
"what do you want for dinner?"
silence.
for someone who likes talking off his mind, your boyfriend didn't even hear you. well, that's something new.
you only call more.
"kaiser? hello? ...love?"
the same response was met.
you wonder what was weighing on your boyfriend's mind for him to drown out the world. it makes you think if he's ignoring you, but you didn't dwell on it for much any longer.
huffing as you try once more, with a louder voice.
"kaiser—"
your boyfriend's head turns all so suddenly to you, interjecting your words.
"—my hand is kinda heavy, can you hold it?"
your boyfriend is really terrible, you conclude.
a smile was plastered on his face, his stupidly charming smile was hanging on his lips. the kind of one that you're familiar with, the one where he finds another pick-up line to use.
he looks at you expectantly, gauging your reaction to what you think of it, you presume—his amazing lines.
and you try to stop the ever growing grin that makes its way to your face, but failing miserably.
only replying to his charms back.
"that's not how the line goes, but you're cute so fine."
a chuckle leaves your lips, making kaiser pout. compared to the pick-up lines he had uttered before, this was definitely better, but not the best.
but it's fine—it's okay because it was him, you think.
"hey, don't laugh! i tried my best okay?" he cried out.
another laugh leaves your mouth, that you tried to stifle—keyword: tried
you took his hands with yours, squeezing it three times in a way to comfort him, dragging him to the store that comes into view.
"okay, mr. i-tried-my-best, whatever you say." you teased, before letting yourself freely laugh at his antics, that only makes him pout more.
your boyfriend was really bad at this, but you don't mind. it's fine, because he's stupid and yours.
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◞♡ likes & reblogs are highly appreciated ! okay,, first time writing for this man i hate him i swear :x based on this prompt btw !!
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frownyalfred · 7 months
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gently grabs you by the chin hey. if an author selects “chose not to use archive warnings” on a fic, they’re allowed. even if you don’t like it or disagree.
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dateko · 7 months
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˚。⋆ OUR SUMMER HOLIDAY | GOJO SATORU
summary: a slice of a lazy summer afternoon with you, gojo, and two little cursed spirits...
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Having Satoru cling to you in the unforgiving summer heat is pure torture. Yet you don’t make an effort to move because there is an occasional refreshing breeze that flies by, and really, you just very much enjoy the feeling of his weight on top of you. The cicadas in the trees buzz and hiss in the distance, and Satoru hums a made-up tune, his cheek sticking to your chest like glue. The two of you stay in that position for a while, loving in silence and enjoying the afternoon, resting in the hammock.
“You’re being awfully quiet.” You muse, letting your fingers run wild through his hair. He sighs at the feeling, adjusting himself up to slot his face into the crook of your neck.
“Megumi’s not here, so I can’t bug him,” He mumbles, voice carrying a slight drawl. “Speaking of bugs, he’s probably infesting the house with them by now.”
Before school was to start again, Megumi and Tsumiki had begged their blue-eyed guardian and you for a short summer holiday. A day or two before I go back to “jail,” as the first grader called it. Knowing Satoru couldn’t say no to his two children and you not having a single mean bone in your body, the four of you set out on a road trip to one of the Gojo Clan’s vacation homes. Far from the busy city and near the roaring ocean, the house you’d all be staying in for a few days was just perfect.
Compared to your cramped and comfortable apartment back in Tokyo, the temporary home had enough space for Megumi’s demon dogs to run around and a kitchen so big it completed your happy little heart. It was a lovely weekend getaway where the kids ran around catching bugs and picking flowers, spending sunset afternoons walking along the shore and lighting fireworks at night. Satoru was certainly ecstatic, having convinced Yaga to rid him of any missions for the weekend.
“Popsicles!” Tsumiki’s voice sings as she slides open the door and steps out onto the engawa. Dressed in a white frilly sundress with embroidered strawberries, she carries around a small basket with frozen treats. Megumi trails behind with a mischievous grin, holding what looks like a stag beetle in a mason jar. They’ve certainly been busy today, unlike you and your lazy lover.
“Mm, just what I needed!” You smile, kissing Satoru’s temple sweetly, urging him to grab you one to share. To this, he pouts with a whine, unwilling to leave his cozy spot against your chest and tangling himself in the embrace of your arms. However, the strongest for you is obedient, complete putty in your presence, who dutifully complies. 
Tsumiki’s smile reaches her ears as she hands him a popsicle, and Satoru pats the top of her head as he thanks her. “Gojo, wait!” The little one calls, digging around her basket. “I have one more thing.”
Satoru raises a quizzical brow and turns to you, who shrugs, leaving your trusty hammock to reach over and grab the treat in his hands. His daughter beams up at him with a playful smile, tugging on his arm to bring him down to her height. “I made you a present!” She says proudly, revealing a carefully crafted crown made of dandelions in her hands. Satoru’s eyes widen at the gift, cheeks slightly shy as he nods, letting little hands place it carefully atop his snowy locks. He can’t seem to stop smiling today. It feels good to be loved.
“How do I look?” He stands, striking a few poses that cause a few giggles and hoots. “Should I do a twirl?”
“You look stupid.” Megumi answers flatly from his spot on the engawa, a bored expression on his face. Tsumiki scolds her younger brother before adamantly declaring that their guardian, indeed, looks like a fairy princess. 
Your boyfriend looks at you with a defeated expression, blue eyes with long batting lashes asking you to vouch for him. “Did you hear that? Megumi’s being mean,” His arms pull you into his broad chest, hands rubbing your shoulders. “You don’t think I look stupid, too, do you?” 
Shaking your head, you flash a smile and finish your popsicle with a pop. “You’re certainly the prettiest princess I’ve ever seen.” 
Satoru pulls you closer and coos at your response, dipping his head down to rub his nose against yours before placing a giant kiss on your lips. The children behind you groan in disgust at the sight. You can’t help but shudder at the feeling of Satoru sweeping his tongue across your bottom lip, giggling against you as he listens to Tsumiki telling Megumi to close his eyes. It’s sticky and sweet, even in the heat. The sorcerer pulls back with a smirk, his hands on your hips, squeezing you playfully. “Mmm, strawberry. My favorite.”
You roll your eyes and pinch his cheek. “You’re such a handful, ‘Toru.”
“Can we go to the beach again?” Tsumiki pips. “I wanna pick seashells!”
“That sounds like a great idea!” Satoru replies excitedly, wiggling his eyebrows at you. 
You playfully push his annoyingly handsome face away from you, stopping him from making those lovesick, kissy faces and ogling eyes. “Sorry, but no. We went yesterday, and plus, Satoru won’t stop being annoying about it.” 
“Hey! What’s wrong with wanting to see you in a swimsuit? You act like I’ve never seen you n-”
“Okay! We can go!” You clap, embarrassed, and march back into the house, where the resting demon dogs wait for you. “Kids! Grab the picnic blanket!”
Left on his own devices and already missing you by his side, Satoru giggles as he watches you pack up with Tsumiki in the kitchen. It’s a sight he wishes he could keep forever. He wishes for more days like this one. One where the kids can continue enjoying their youth, without a care in the world. And he knows that you feel the same.
You’ve always been so loving and supportive with the kids, from the moment he showed up at your front door with two pairs of wide and innocent eyes. It’s not every day that the four of you could act as a family and not sorcerers fighting to protect humanity. Satoru realizes this is something he wants to protect for a long, long time.
“What are you giggling at? It’s creepy…” Megumi says, a faint smile ghosting his lips.
“Oh, nothing…”
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note: this was... a very fruitless fic... i'm sorry... i really do not want to go back to school and also it's very hot outside so i birthed this... also i might continue writing the beach moment but really i apologize for the lack of actual real and raw writing i usually do i am... Unwell and forgot what it was like to write!!!
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heademptysimirror · 4 months
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Star to star
Next
Okay, so...here's a bunch of info.
I realized I never had anything to post on tumblr, so my brain had a brilliant idea: making a kirby comic!
Now, this is my first time seriously doing this, so there probably will be mischaracterization, plot holes, cliches, goofy drawings and a possible discontinuation.
I don't know when updates will be made or the number of pages per post, but I will try my best!
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cathedraldecay · 2 years
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2004 // 2022
HE’S BEEN WANTING TO DO THIS FOR 18 YEARS
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peramess · 6 months
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TW: Smut, Blood Sex, Swearing, Gore, Murder, Crazed Reader, DARK WRITING, Bit of Angst, Etc
Paring: Michael Myers X Female Reader.
A/N: Holy fuckkkk???? I posted???? Ohhhh my goddddd???? Anyway, i hope this it good for ya! :P
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A harsh sound of sawing sounded throughout the small, dim room, the four concrete walls housed many cracks and patches of old, muddy colored blood, the ceiling was crumbling within itself, the old wood molding and in one of the corners, a wet substance dripped from a broken pipe sticking out of the ceiling, the ground was covered in new and old blood, and bits and pieces of human skin and bones. You hummed softly over the sound of your sawing, the music helping you concentrate on your task at hand.
Quite literally, you snickered to yourself as you waved the sawed off hand into blank, cloudiness eyes of the corpses face that laid bare before you on a metal table, before tossing the hand into a steel bin full of other decapitated limbs and blood.
As you threw the hand, your hand caught your gaze almost immediately.
Taking a moment to stare down at your hands, wet blood staining your skin all the way up to your shoulders to which was dryer and crackling over your skin but that didn't deter your fascination. It was art in your eyes, and you reveled in it. The smell, the dark color, the warmth of being submerged in it, even the taste. Everything about blood pulled you in, warmed your insides alit, creating this air of pleasure and destruction and power around you. Just looking at it, breathing in the coppery tang filled you with pleasure and joy.
Closing your eyes, you let out a silent, breathy groan as you placed the bloody hand saw onto the metal table, the toothed blade bathed in red substance as it glinted under the rustic, metal pendent lamp. You would've admired it, taken a photo of its beauty, had you kept your eyes open, but you didn't, you couldn't help but sink into the desire of being bathed in the wet blood on your hands. Bringing them up to your face, you began to rub one hand over your neck and the other over your features.
Oh, how badly you wanted to surrounded by it. To be immersed fully, to drown in it. It's... It was absolute Heaven.
"Fuck." You whispered breathlessly as a heat pooled down into your groin, you could feel your face pull into one of pleasure as you covered yourself with the blood from your hands, and a delightful hum thrummed your entire body.
Wetness bloomed within your panties, the fabric becoming coated with your desire, as your breasts tingled and your nipples hardening against the thin fabric of your messy top. You knew your fixation with blood was abnormal, strange, disgusting, disturbing to others, but you couldn't give a fuck of what others thought and saw you. Most of your victims claimed you a monster, and you decided that yes, you were and you loved it. Besides, they deserved it, to be gutted like the fools and pigsty they were. To be given such treasure, such beauty, within themselves and only for them to waste it and not fall under the depths of its magnificence befuddled you, offended you so deeply that you had to do something about it. They do not deserve this. They do not deserve to hold that pureness within their selfish body's.
At the age of sixteen, you were finally free of the constant, looming pressure of your peers and their ignorance when you made your first kill. You were free from your shackles and lived amongst the gods as you rubbed your face and neck in absolute beauty. But of course, it was short lived, after your second attempt to reach that holy place once again, you were interrupted by the bigots who swore to protect those lower to them, thus being hauled off to Smith's Grove Surgical Hospital. The wretch that was taken from you was your last unsuccessful kill, of course, you killed the cop who found you first, and the lawyer that was put on your case, and a few nurses at the hospital.
A smile crept onto your lips as you reminisce the screams of utter terror they gifted you so freely, they're fearful gaze watching on as you tear them open just to paint yourself with their hidden beauty.
"As I bathe in the blood of the unworthy, I step closer to divinity, and my place amongst the Gods is assured."
Those words, those words were spoken by you each time you bathed yourself in their essence, and even now you speak those holy words, the smile on your lips growing as your chest rumbled from laughter.
If only they knew this pure ascendance, to know where their true beauty lay just under layers of skin and fat. But, of course, they don't. The absolute idiots. Why? Why do they not see?
"Why was I placed in a world of vermin?" Your smile fades as you are pulled from your high, your words just a mumble, "They're so fucking blind, so fucking stupid to not see." Your features twist with disgust, your palms fisting with anger as you stared at the wall before you, "To live amongst these... these hypocrites who cry and fear they're own beauty within themselves yet pledge themselves to wars, to the destruction playing on their radios and TVs, wasting themselves away for the horror they read on newsletter's I would gladly bestow onto them for free. and yet I am the monster." You huff, your body bending forward and you place your hands onto the blooded table.
I will be that in they're eyes, and I will proudly wear that badge with a smile, as long as I can make them see, to witness their magnificence being fully appreciated and cherished instead of it being wasted by their stupidity.
Breathing in and out slowly, your agitated nerves dwindling into embers then ash as you watch a trail of blood drip down of the table and onto the floor with fascination.
"Tell me, Michael," You spoke softly, your gaze stuck the the magnificence before you, "Are you like the pests that roam with blind eyes? Or are you like me? A... monster? A monster that sees their own potential, their own worthiness and holiness?" Reluctant, you broke your gaze away and rose up to turn behind you, to look upon the man standing in the opening of your doorway. You knew Michael from your unwelcomed stay at the hospital. But you only met him when you were there after a year. You were seventeen then, and he, sixteen. It was obvious from the moment you two met, you two would be inseparable.
And, of course, someone knew that before either of you did. Dr. Loomis, your shared psychiatrist. But one thing he didn't see was just how you two would become fast friends.
Ms. Ursula - or, in your words - Mrs. Cuntface. She was a widowed nurse who pushed her rage and frustrations onto patients as long as the higher ups wasn't looking, an absolute bitch. She was assigned to sit in the room you and Michael were placed in, to watch how you interacted and to chart it down for Dr. Loomis as he was busy with another rowdy patient of his. You and Michael didn't say much at all, well, only you spoke - just a little - he spoke not a word towards you nor to the nurse. He only stared, his bright blue eyes hollow of emotion staring you down from behind his black mask. You could tell it was self made, from the cracks and wrinkles, you guessed it was made from paper mache, (you don't really know though since you never made anything out of the stuff), his hair is a dirty blond and unkempt as it hangs over his shoulders, and a throng of strands hid the mask some. But one thing you noticed out of everything else, was his wrists chained to the table, just like yours.
Was he like me? Does he fall witness to the desire of ascension just as I do?
"I like your mask." You spoke with a small tilt to your head and you noticed his head slowly following your movements. "Can you tell me your name?" The only sound that was made after your question was from the nurse huffing in annoyance. You ignored her and tilted your head in the opposite direction to see what he would do, and as you predicted, he mocked your movements at a gradual pace. You smiled at that and then introduced yourself, all the while moving your head side from side with him following along.
"Will you shut up!" The nursed would yell in pure annoyance as she sent you a firm glare. You only smiled in return, "Make me, worm." You had giggled as you gazed into her eyes, her features pulling into one of rage, and the redness flowing up into her face entranced you. But it was short lived as she stomped onto her feet and rushed to your side with a raised hand, slapping you across your face. But, you only laughed as your cheek began to burn.
Laughed as she then yanked your frizzy hair back, snapping your head up to hers. Her face was so red with pumping blood that it made your heart stutter, the rage in her eyes absolute and her sneering mouth forcing crinkles around her old, ugly face.
No. That will not do. You thought, your chest seizing from disgust that rolled over your excitement, it needs to go. That beauty shouldn't be hiding behind her disgusting, wrinkled skin. No. No. No. No. I will not have it.
Her voice was muted to you even though her lips moved in a rapid pace, her yells and cusses towards you all silent against your beating heart bombing into your ears as your stomach churned with determination to rib by her offensive wrinkles and spotted skin.
And even though her hold on your hair was tight, the rage and need didn't quiet, quite the apposite, in fact. It burned you, gutted you so deeply that her skin was still there. IT. NEEDS. TO. GO.
With a powerful surge, you rose, your lips parting quickly as your teeth sunk into the meat of her nose and upper lip. Her screams was lost to you as blood filled your mouth. Yes. Yesss. You could almost cry from sheer happiness as your tongue tasted the sweet, sweet blood gushing into your mouth. And you moaned in pleasure.
She tried to pull back but it wasn't easy, your teeth had deepened into her skin so much that even she knew if she continues, her skin would be ripped from her. But she wasn't thinking clearly, panic and fear forcing her frantic hands to push you away, and with a snap, her skin was torn from her as she fell against the table, her trembling hands holding her face as she screamed and sobbed.
Your sour mood was no more as the blood pooled from the large gash behind her hands, painting her body with the art you've allowed to be set free. You laughed, the joyous sound forcing your lips apart and the skin fell from your mouth and onto your lap.
So beautiful. So, so beautiful.
She was gasping for air, drowning in her own blood. You continued to laugh, chanting those sacred words over and over as you rocked back and forth in glee, the cuffs bounding your wrists clinking against the table from your movements.
You watch as she staggered to her feet, her wet hands pulling at the tables sides to help her pull herself up as she gasps and sobs for help, her upper half falling over the table as she heaves. And you watch as Michael, now standing, his hands still bound just as yours are, reach for her head. He struggled slightly as he pulls her to him by her hair as she thrashes and turns in his hold and you rushed to your feet and pushed your knees onto the table. Now with better access, you bent down and sank your teeth into her screaming face once again, tearing into her cheek and pulling back before diving back again and again until there was nothing left. All the while, Michael, had held her in place as she thrashed and pulled away from you both but he never let go, not until she ceased all movement.
You couldn't stop laughing, the art under you too pure and too joyous for you that just the thought of holding in your happiness was far too cruel.
"You did amazing!" You told him after your fit of laughter, but the smile was just as big and bloody as before, you stared at him, your chest heaving with excitement, "You helped me set her free!" You exclaimed with a laugh. "And-! And look! We both are wearing masks now!" You laugh and laugh as he only stared, and even though he stood there emotionless, his eyes told you a different story, he was proud, happy to find someone like him. "You're like me." You gasp with a laugh, "We're partners now! You and me!"
Is he? You think now as you stare at him, the dim lighting in the room showing very little of him as the upper half of his body was coveted in shadows. He helps, yes, but he doesn't express your joy, your fondness for the art you shed, you see that now. He... He doesn't see.
Your heart quaked heavily at that, your stomach rolling in fear. If- if he doesn't see... I can't... - I can't be with him. I won't be with him. He's... Just like them.
"Tell me you see, Michael!" You yelled, your body slumping against the table behind you, your hands bracing the side of the cool, metallic table. Your chest now panting with terror as your eyes weld in angered, pain-filled tears.
He stood, unmoving, his hands limp by his sides, his legs locked to that one spot and it angered you more by his lack of response. You knew he couldn't speak - or atleast, won't - you knew he was a statue until he wanted to move, but it just angered you. He knew how important this was to you, knew how highly you thought of your artwork, of you masterpieces, and yet, he just stands there!
"You don't see..." You gritted out with hatred. How dare he! How dare he steal your heart! Your love! Your help! Just to fucking throw it out once you realize who he actually was. "You don't see. You don't see!" You yelled now, spinning around to bang your hands against the table, reaching for anything in your rage-filled state to throw and smash onto the floor and walls, "You don't see! YOU DON'T SEE! YOU DON'T SEE!" Shaking the table until you push it over in your rage, the body and handsaw crashing onto the floor with a loud thud, you screamed the words over and over.
You paused, your body wracking with shudders of determination and hatred as you looked for your handsaw, and quickly found it by the barrel of blood and organs. Racing towards it, you snatched the tool from the floor and turned to face him, but he was already there, in front of you, just an inch or two away. You sneered up at his masked face with betrayal, "You worm! Do I mean nothing to you!?" You screamed, raising your hand that held the blade to aim at his chest and jumped on him, usually, his tall, secured build wouldn't move for anyone, but for you, he allowed himself to fall back onto the floor with you on top of him, and he watched with admiration and greedy lust at your rage, your furry. He enjoyed this side of you: all passionate rage, of blinding hatred that tinted over your face, and watching you bathe yourself in the blood of your enemies and those who get in the way, he enjoyed the death you brought forwards, the destruction painting you. But, no, he doesn't see your fondness for the blood you call godsend, he doesn't see why you seek it, need it, breath it. He doesn't care for it. Never did. He only killed those who get in the way, he doesn't relish in they're demise because he truly doesn't care.
But one thing he never understood was why he cared for you. Why he would bathe himself in the red substance just to see your eyes light up with that dark excitement, to tear into his clothes and force his mask up to bruise your lips against his. Just thinking about it made his cock harden and rise, and as you screamed, your body moving against him, you directing your powerful rage at him, burned him with lust. He doesn't care why your angry, but he does know that if he doesn't try to calm you, there will be consequences.
So, he pushed his mask up halfway up his face with one slowed hand, the other gripping around the front of your throat, choking you slightly as he forced your mouth down onto his, ceasing you of words. Before you could react, he already began to move to ripping your clothes off from your back, first your thin top, then second, your leggings, then third, your soaked panties.
Fuck. You thought, your anger subsiding slightly as the cool temperature of the room nipped at your bare skin now, your body shuddering as his strong, callused hands palm your ass as he tongued your mouth. His tongue was hot and wet against yours, and you groaned as you could taste a coppery tang along with him, his taste, his spit.
Your breasts rubbed against the fabric of his jumpsuit once you threw your shredded clothes away, your nipples becoming sensitive and your pussy blossoming with heat, your core empty, needing to be filled by his cock which you felt under your inner thigh.
With your rage sated for now, you pulled back and growled at his jumpsuit, and with quick, shaky fingers you found the zipper to his suit and pulled it down, reveling his hairy chest and navel and then his cock which sprung free.
"Fuck, baby." You groaned as you looked down at him, even without blood he was a masterpiece, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't look much better without it. His chest and cock was tainted red with heat and you palmed up his chest before scraping your nails down to his navel, his body rumbling with a silent, affirming growl as he, in turn, grope at your ass and thighs, pulling you to grind your wet, hot pussy against his hot, hard cock.
Moaning, you allowed him to move your hips for you, your clit gaining glorious friction on his cock as your juices coax the skin between you. Pressing your hands again his stomach, you grinded hard against him, moving your hips with his, his hands was tight with their hold on your skin, but you loved it, loved to be marked by him, to be bruised by his desire for you.
"Fuckkk." You gasp breathlessly, your head falling back and eyes closing in bliss. The pleasure was great, but it wasn't enough, you know this, as well as he does, but that doesn't mean you don't enjoy the thick, hard member rubbing against your pussy. It just wasn't enough to make you come, is all - well not without blood, of course. But that doesn't deter your lust for him, for his cock. So, without hesitation, you reached in between you both and gripped his hot cock in your hand and aimed his head at your entrance, and before you could even push your hips down, he did it for you.
His hands now grip your hips, pulling you down as he thrust upwards into your tight pussy. Gasping at the intrusion, your walls and core aching by the girth of him, your body burning with fire as your moans were pulled out of you as he forced you down and down again and again, his own hips moving up. Your nails scratched his stomach, his body quivering and shuddering as pleasure raked his body from head to toe, your pussy hot, and wet, and tight just for him. He watches your breasts bounce, you hair along with it as he uses your body for his needs, but he knew you love it, too, loved to be taken however he wanted you.
All of a sudden, he sat up, one of his hands moving to the back of your head to grip tightly at your hair, yanking your head back as he bites and mouths at your neck before pulling your gasping mouth against his in a heated kiss. Both of you ragged of breath, both chests heaving as he fucked you down onto his cock, your breasts rubbing just right against the jumpsuit, creating a strong shiver from within your body as you gasp into a rough, biting kiss that leaves you both panting and needing for more.
With a surprised gasp, you felt something wash over your body's as a loud bang sounded into the room. Opening your eyes, you saw Michael was now covered in blood and looked down to see your own body covered in the same substance. And just underneath your body's, an enormous amount of blood pooled around the both of you.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." You gasp loudly as you realised that Michael pulled the large barrel of blood on top of you both, coating you both from neck down in blood as limbs and organs splayed around you.
"Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes." You moan with a breathless smile, your orgasm now high on it's peak. Fucking your hips down with renewed vigor, you claw at his shoulders as you move to suck his blooded neck into your mouth, filling your taste buds with its metallic taste.
He does see... He sees me.
@vomitgoth-snuff I hope everything was to your liking!
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belovaskitkat · 6 months
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Missing Persons Report; dark!Yelena
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When a breakup with your ex goes awry, the first place you run to is a seedy bar on the opposite side of town just in case they went looking for you. What you didn’t expect however was for that to lead to you meeting a gorgeous blonde and her friend; so very eager to take you home with them.
After you kindly refused; well Yelena had other methods in her arsenal. They didn’t call her slippery to catch for nothing. And who knows? Maybe you’ll fall in love with her instead this time.
This AU is 18+! No exceptions!
Characters: dark!yelena, female!reader, appearances by Kate Bishop
Warnings: drugging drinks, kidnapping, restraints, slapping, degradation, extreme use of “pretty girl”, brief knife play, fingering, orgasm denial, very extremely minor mention of desperation and piss kink if you squint, body marking, forced body worship, stockholm syndrome, basically the darkest thing I’ve ever written
Every chapter WILL have its own warnings as usual, these are just a brief summary so you know what you’re walking into!
That Night - October 17th
As It Goes - October 24th
Missing Persons Report - October 31st
(Disclaimer: We all know how busy life gets and how horrible I am at keeping up with schedules, but I’m going to try my damndest with this one because I am very, very excited!)
(Also; P.S. big mf thanks to my favorite @kitmoas for making me the bestest header gif ever made)
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rwrbmovie · 8 months
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Taylor Zakhar Perez for HOLA!
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moon-blanket · 13 days
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A silly little Blurb about early Freelancer and Gavin :)
[Read on ao3]
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Gavin was not made for mornings like this.
He was made for the darkness of night. Neon lights of dingy bars, hidden corners of alleyways, and messy, heated nights in pitch black bedrooms. Quick fixes to scratch the itches of mortals, easy supplements of emotion he needs to survive another night– always a means to an end.
Sure, the awkward morning-after was a custom he was more than familiar with. Sneaking out before his bedmate of the hour ever woke up had become a well-practiced art by now. Sometimes he even had the uncomfortable pleasure of seeing them off for the day, parting ways as he begins looking for another meal. Another way to get by.
It's never been anything like today.
The Freelancer sleeps peacefully at his side. It's their first true day off in what has felt like the eons they've had this routine together. With no work or classes to scramble off to today, they've given themself the gift of sleeping in.
It's a shame that he couldn't partake as well, but in this moment he can't find the means to care.
They've twisted themselves into a position that he thinks cannot possibly be comfortable. Half on their stomach, half on their back– facing him with the most serene expression he's ever had the pleasure of witnessing grace their face.
They're beautiful like this.
His eyes follow the outline of the parts of their body left exposed by the covers they've neglected in their sleep. The rise and fall of their back as they slowly breathe, the dark spots that bloom across their skin from their late night tryst, their hair wildly splayed against their pillow and draping delicately in their face.
Sunlight streams through the window, the morning light hits their frame so perfectly, the curves and angles of their body practically glowing in the warmth of the sun. He thinks he finally understands the meaning of true worship.
Gavin does not know much of human religion, not enough to know who to properly thank– but he will gladly give the proper kudos to every god, every sovereign in the stars, that guided him to his Freelancer.
His Freelancer...
There's a pang in his chest he's unfamiliar with when the thought passes through his mind. It's a little frightening.
He doesn't know how long he stays there and admires them. Eventually he watches as their body awakens, their eyes open to reveal the prettiest color he's ever seen.
When they gain their bearings, recognizing his form as he lays beside them, they flash a sleepy smile as another pang courses through his non-existent heart. One that he begins to welcome as they move to cuddle into him.
He's starting to believe that he could learn to love mornings as long as His Freelancer is beside him.
Thank you for reading. :3
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jscameron · 3 months
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You
warnings: implied drug use, implied sex, possessive rafe, domestic fighting, rafe x fem reader. maybe that’s it!
Let me know your thoughts! ❤️
you and rafe have been on and off for 2 years. every time he went on a binge, you would leave. he would hate it. you would fight, and then make up immediately.
it was the same, vicious cycle.
you wanted better, needed better, CRAVED better. but you also wanted him, and you knew he needed you.
“baby, i’m going to quit. i know it’s hard, but please don’t give up on me.”, he begs you. “rafe, no. you know i don’t want you to be this way, but it seems like i don’t matter. your drinking and drugs are more important.”, you counter. “that’s not fucking true, y/n!”, he screams, pupils dilating. “i hate you.”, you calmly say back. “no you fucking don’t.”, he says, as he grabs your jaw with his huge hand, forcing you to look in his piercing blue eyes. “you love me. and you know it. you love fucking me, too. that’s why we always fight, it leads to the best sex. and you know i love you sober or not.”, he says, inches away from your face.
your breathing gets heavier and faster. your heart beats in your chest, as if about to rip out of your ribs any second. he’s looking you up and down. “you getting hot and bothered already, baby?”, his breath fanning over you. “n-no.”, you blush and turn away, trying to deny him the satisfaction of turning you on.
“awe, baby.”, he coos, while trying to put his hand against your cunt through your jeans. you feel his fingers run over you through the fabric, and it makes you melt at his touch. “let me get in you. don’t fight it.”, he says as he picks you up and carries you to the bedroom.
you start slapping his back playfully, already knowing where this will lead.
he tosses you onto the bed, eyes you up and down. he’s biting his lip. goddamn, he’s so fucking hot. “pants, off.”, he orders as he’s pulling them off of you. he hungrily looks at you in your red, lacy thong — his favorite. “mmm”, he moans. he starts licking you through your panties. “r-rafe, no.”, you try and push him off of you. “no, baby. i’m going to eat you out. and you’re going to take me. i love you.”, he says, as he pulls your panties off. “i’m keeping these, you know.”, he says as he stuffs your thong in his pocket. “yeah, yeah.”, you say annoyed and flustered.
“you’re so important to me. i promise i’m going to get clean. i love you, baby girl. it’s you. it’s always been you.”, he says, lovingly. and you know he means it. “i know, rafey. i know. i love you, now use me already.”, you beg.
“yes, ma’am. happily. you are my drug of choice.”, he smirks as you proceed to have the best night for the both of you.
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astranauticus · 4 months
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stultifera navis rerun AKA thinking about Iberia hours again because a lot of the Iberians have such fascinating relationships with the concept of home but specifically Thorns and Lumen are eating at my brain. like where do you call home when the place that is your home Just Fucking Hates You? Elysium's rewinding breeze specifically makes a point to hammers home how differently Iberia treats its Liberi and its Aegir
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(which is especially interesting since this comes right after a conversation where Purestream commented on how despite Leizi being a high ranking government official, there are still some experiences that are universal for all Yanese people - because the experience of what Iberia itself is like isnt universal for all Iberians)
But all that being said, Thorns also straight up states that Aegir is not his home, and yeah, how could it be? How could a place you've never been to, never truly known, ever be your home? How could it ever feel like a home?
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so where do you go when the place that you are from hates your people and the place your people are from is completely unfamiliar and alien to you? Thorns' answer at the end of the conversation with Aya is: my home is where i chose it to be. my home is where there are people I care about and people who care about me
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in the complete opposite direction, Lumen's oprec asks: why do you still stay in a place that wants you gone? because the people of Gran Faro like Jordi well enough but when push comes to shove, they will want the only Aegir in town gone
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and yet, when Rald the messenger offers him a chance to leave Jordi turns him down and when he's forced to escape Gran Faro after the people there literally try to send him to his death (or worse) at the hands of the Inquisitors he keeps trying to go back because like everyone in stultifera navis, Jordi is clinging to his own dreams of a golden age
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but the shape of that dream is unique to every character and for Jordi, his dreams are deeply, inseparably bound to the Eye of Iberia, the legacy his parents left behind
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and it's this dream of becoming someone great, of bringing about that golden age that his parents devoted their lives to help create that ties Jordi to this nothing town because despite everything, despite the mistrust of the townsfolk and the hostility of the Inquisition and the danger from the ocean, he simply cannot leave it behind
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(or, because i personally dislike the official translation,)
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"I just see this place as my home"
so yeah. not sure what overall point i was trying to make here i'm just. deeply in love with these stories about chosing what is and isn't your home, of saying you will not call a place your home because it has given you no reason to or saying you consider a place your home even though it has given you every reason not to. deeply unwell about them <3
#arknights#asto speaks#not much of an essay writer i just keep thinking about them and i need to force other people to think about them too#thorns story fucks me up bc like. this whole almost found family adjacent idea of like#maybe home isnt something decided by your birth but something you can chose based on what truly matters to you#it just gets to me. i guess.#jordi gets to me in a completely different direction there's nothing personal about it i just find his story *fascinating*#just a guy. a completely normal guy. an absolute nobody caught up in these dreams of greatness while also fully aware of his own normalcy#but never letting either of those overshadow the other. never losing that self awareness or that fuckin obsessive determination#god. what a Character#i love jordi so much like genuinely#i joke a lot about him being just a Guy but thats also kinda like the best thing about him#the fact that he is the way that he is and does all the things he does despite being just a Guy#gently holds#for context i was so hyped about new iberia lore when sn was announced i read the whole thing as soon as it dropped on cn server#cuz someone uploaded all the story sections to bilibili right after it came out#and '我只是把这里当作自己的故乡啊' fucking hit me SO HARD#in like the greater context of elysium demanding to know why hes risking his life in like 5 different ways to return to gran faro#because yeah jordi just doesnt want to leave his home but like we the audience knows the full *weight* of what that home means to him#and the weight of the dreams that made him chose to see Gran Faro as his home and to refuse to let go of that#thats why i like the original a lot more than the translation i think like it really emphasises that active *choice*.#this is the place jordi has *decided* to see as his home and he knows what that means and what it means to him#side note the part on thorns might not actually age well depending on whether hg decides to ever release more aulus lore#i mean i'll gladly take the L if it means more aulus and/or thorns lore like#i just wanna know what (if anything) is tying him to iberia yknow#ak#iberiaposting
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itsthedoodle · 6 days
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the tragic story of the vienna sausage
Summary:
“Feyre, before we do this, there is something you should know.”
She looked at him incredulously, trying to ignore the throbbing between her legs. He thought now was the time for confessions? Sighing, she looked at him expectantly nonetheless.
“My cock… it’s not like other cocks.”
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: none
Many thanks to @rosanna-writer for spending her lunch break beta reading this pure chaos of a oneshot 🩵
Read on AO3
“You’ve plagued my dreams for so long.” 
Feyre had no actual recollection of how they had gotten there. She only knew that they’d met at a ball several hours ago, and she had been captivated by his aura the moment she’d laid her eyes on him. Rhys could command a room just by being in it, which didn’t really surprise her given his station. They had been introduced to each other, had hit it off right away, had danced all night long, dances during which more than just a few whispers about them had been heard, and had decided to go out for some fresh air. A ballroom wasn’t the best place to strike up a conversation, especially with the presence of eager eyes and ears, so anything remotely meaningful Feyre had wanted to tell Rhys had come rushing out of her the moment she had felt him stand next to her on the enormous balcony. 
She had confessed that she loved the night sky more than anything else, and he had told her he knew the perfect spot on this estate for stargazing. She had all but begged him to take her there, so they had gone to the fountain in the center of the rose maze, and had sat there for who knows how long.
If anyone had been looking for them, neither Feyre nor Rhys had known anything about it. 
Rhys had started tracing constellations in the sky, meanwhile Feyre had been busy tracing the constellation of stars in his eyes. He had simply looked away from the sky for one moment, had turned his head to look at her and whatever he must have seen on her face had made him risk it all and kiss her like a parched man finally tasting water again.
She had kissed him back, and the rest had conveniently left her brain.
She looked at Rhys now, looked at his flushed face and the silky hair she couldn’t bring herself to stop touching. He was so beautiful and she wanted him so bad that she could hardly make sense of her own thoughts. 
His shirt had been thrown somewhere behind him — or behind her? — she didn’t particularly care, and the top of her gown had been lowered down to her waist, her chest peppered with so many bruises she didn’t even know how she would cover them. That was a problem for future Feyre.
Present Feyre simply wanted to fuck the gorgeous man in front of her.
She ran her hands on his bare chest, the planes of it covered in strange markings she didn’t understand, moving them low to his abs and ending at his pants. She couldn’t wait to taste him. 
She started to unbutton them when he put his hands on hers. 
“Feyre, before we do this, there is something you should know.”
She looked at him incredulously, trying to ignore the throbbing between her legs. He thought now was the time for confessions? Sighing, she looked at him expectantly nonetheless. 
“My cock… it’s not like other cocks.”
She suppressed a snort. Wasn’t that what every male said? Though Feyre had to admit, Rhys wasn’t like other males. He was different. There was something about him she couldn’t put her finger on. 
“I’ll be the judge of that.” She said, unbuttoning his pants, lowering them and his underwear. 
As they fell to his ankles, she only had enough time to register two things: 
Rhys looked anxious, and his cock was abnormally large and long. 
She blinked down at it, unable to form a coherent sentence. While she usually hated the “how will it fit?”, she was seriously considering whether it would actually fit.
She forced her brain to come up with something to say. “Not like other cocks, huh?”
Rhys gulped. “I’ll show you. Please promise me you won’t bolt.”
Feyre nodded, keeping her eyes on her unusual prize. She was horny, and she wanted him to fuck her, but she had to figure out something regarding that—
The cock, already at a size she couldn’t quite grasp, started elongating, with Rhys standing up from his spot on the fountain and putting distance between them with every inch it gained. 
Her mind was blank. She wasn’t sure if she was dreaming or if she had eaten something that was affecting her clarity. Her head was spinning and her heart was threatening to jump right out of her chest. 
Rhys was now on the other side of the center of the maze, and his cock was long enough to touch her nonetheless, and Feyre—
Feyre ran for her life.
She ran faster than she had ever ran before, and just when she thought she had put enough distance between them, she felt something brushing her ankle. She looked down, screaming at the sight of Rhys’s cock wrapped around her ankle.
Feyre fell, face on the grass. The cock released her ankle.
“Feyre please, I just want to talk. Let me explain.”
Her face was hurting from the impact, and she could feel her nose bleeding. Ignoring the pain, she used that moment to her advantage, standing and running again, without a single clue as to where she was going, seeing as she was in a freaking maze. 
Feyre was aware of the ridiculous sight she was making at the moment — running from a prehensile cock and its owner, boobs out and swinging this way and that.
She stopped in front of a narrow path, the only way forward. It was a tight space, and chances she would be hurt in the process were high, but she couldn’t climb up the tall rose wall, so she went in. The skirts of her dress kept getting stuck in the thorns of the roses, but slowing down would mean the cock would catch up to her. While she was horny and would admit she could be talked into letting a prehensile cock fuck her, she was also terrified of how that would work to begin with. Would it hurt? Could he control the length? If that was the case, why hadn’t he just kept it to himself in the first place? 
That’s right, she thought to herself. Because he’s a decent man willing to give his partner a choice. 
Rhys… poor Rhys. He had begged her not to bolt. She had told him she wouldn’t and had done just that at the first chance she got. 
“Feyre please,” he pleaded with her from what she thought was from the other side of the maze wall. “I swear I just want us to talk. You deserve an explanation.”
She did, she was aware of that. She also knew he deserved to be heard. There had to be a reason for whatever was going on. Who was she to judge someone’s physical condition? And besides, how bad could it be? She was scared, but at the same time she was also curious about it. 
Making a decision, she slowed down, catching her breath. She was a big girl. She could do this. 
Turning around, Feyre went to the exit of the path she was in. 
As expected, Rhys came out of the parallel path, his cock now at its usual length.
She suppressed a snort. While she had been busy running naked from the waist up, he had simply decided to run entirely naked altogether. 
The man was gorgeous though, like he had been carved by an artist. Even his cock was gorgeous. 
“I’m sorry I grabbed your ankle.”
Feyre nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance to explain yourself. I was just…”
“Scared? Taken by surprise?” he said with a knowing tone. 
She nodded again. 
Rhys sighed. “You wouldn’t be the first. It’s a hard thing to explain.”
Feyre raised an eyebrow. It was a hard thing alright. Rhys caught what she meant and laughed. 
“Has it always been like that?” she asked, genuinely curious. 
Rhys shook his head. “No. A witch pretending to be a priestess cursed my family line centuries ago because I rejected her advances. It’s been like this ever since.”
“Is there a way to break the spell?”
He looked at her for a moment, taking in her appearance. “The key to breaking the curse would be a willing sexual partner who knows about it and accepts me nonetheless.”
Feyre hummed. So that would explain why he had told her. Did that mean—
“I know what you’re thinking. There hasn’t been a willing sexual partner in quite some time. You’re the first one to even agree to hear me out.”
“That must have been painful for you.” she said, approaching him. 
He snorted. “Emotionally and physically, yes.”
Sighing, she stopped in front of him. “Look. The thought of it terrifies me, I won’t lie. But I’m also curious.”
“You… are?”
His unsure tone broke her heart. No one deserved to be feeling what he must have felt all these years. 
“I am,” she said, bringing her hand to his cock, stroking it. It was smooth like velvet, which she wasn’t expecting considering how long it could get and how she had been running away from it until a few minutes ago. “I’m also still very turned on.” She went down on her knees, eye level with it. “I’d say that’s a good sign, right?”
Rhys was looking at her like he couldn’t believe his luck, and she used that moment of shock to lick a long stripe up his shaft. 
He groaned, and she took him fully in her mouth, one hand gripping him and her other hand finding its way to her clit. 
As she sucked and stroked, she felt the world tilting, a weird sensation in her head. She faintly wondered how it would feel if the cock elongated while inside her before her world went fully dark. 
 “Feyre?”
She groaned, feeling warm all over. She was lying somewhere soft. Had Rhys carried her inside the mansion from the rose maze? 
She forced her eyes open, blinking several times, waiting for her eyesight to adjust. Rhys was by her side, her hand in his. He looked disheveled, stressed, tired, and fully clothed. 
“Rhys?”
He sighed, sounding relieved. “Hello Feyre darling.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I was so worried about you.”
“What happened? How did I get here, did you carry me here from the rose maze?”
“The… what now?” he said, wholly confused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve been lying here for a whole week. The fever only broke an hour ago.”
“What fever?”
Rhys blinked. “You don’t remember anything?”
Feyre shook her head. 
“Well,” Rhys started, “You got bitten by a venomous snake. Madja gave you the antidote on time but the fever needed a while to fully break — you seriously don’t remember anything?”
“No, I don’t,” She said, sighing. “I must have really been out of it.”
“You kept mumbling things about stargazing and… prehensile cocks the whole time?” he finished with a confused tone. “I’m just glad you’re okay, darling.”
He leaned in to kiss her gently and she returned it. Had it all been a dream?
“Rhys?” she asked tentatively, “can I be honest with you?”
“Always.” He answered immediately. 
“I’d have been curious and willing to give it a shot, but I’m glad you don’t have a prehensile cock.”
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dreamlandcreations · 7 months
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Imagine being Aegon's twin brother and being in love with Aemond
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Imagine being Aegon's twin brother and being in love with Aemond and him returning your feelings.
You reluctantly take the throne but manage to make peace with Rhaenyra, accepting Baela to be your Queen and offering the title of Hand to Rhaenys, naming Daemon the commander of your army and letting your elder sister keep Dragonstone as the Princess.
All is going suspiciously well. Until Aemond's wife discovers your affair in the worst way possible. However, the gods are with you because Lady Baratheon slips on the steps as she runs from you and falls to her death.
It is a tragedy that you take as a sign. You refuse to continue the relationship, breaking Aemond's heart not just your own. But your little brother is nothing if not stubborn, he will never let you go.
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kumeramen · 11 months
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⊹˚. ShiSaku Fic Recommendations ٠ ࣪⭑
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Another ShiSaku fic recommendations thanks to @cherrycrow4ever for the good deal of fanfics they suggested and @sumisai-blog, even it's just one rec thank you nonetheless~🙏
Note : While it's fic recs for ShiSaku, there're some contains MultiSaku pairing which can be seen stated just below the fic's title so it won't cause confusion. Most are mature/adult content but will stated the rating regardless, enjoy the reading!
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❥ ⌈ Crossfade [SERIES] • She_Who_Only_Knows_War ⌋
Rating : M / E || Modern AU
Sakura's going through a breakup. She joins Shisui on a drive as he waits for Itachi and Izumi to sober up.
❥ ⌈ Shut Up and Dance • sleepyfox ⌋
Rating : E || Modern AU
Sakura is desperate for a place to stay, and would do just about anything for a door she can shut in the face of anyone who pisses her off. Shisui hates being alone, and his apartment is too big for just him. It only makes sense that she should move in, right?
Crow is a famous YouTuber who posts dance videos and is known for never speaking or revealing his face to protect his identity. CherryBomb is a fan and dancer herself, and when she starts posting her own videos in response to Crow's, it sparks a friendly public rivalry and a far more private friendship. As their relationship deepens, they promise to remain anonymous where it matters most, because what they have is all they need... Right?
❥ ⌈ And So We Burn • sleepyfox ⌋
Rating : E || Pairing : MultiSaku (Haruno Sakura/Hatake Kakashi/Uchiha Shisui) || Canon divergence AU
Shisui isn't surprised to see little Cherry-chan all grown up with a take no shit attitude, but he is surprised by how much he likes it. Turns out, she's just his type.
“Another Uchiha, Blossom? You seem to have a thing for guys with the Sharingan."
❥ ⌈ Would you... • Espoiretreves ⌋
Rating : E || Canon divergence AU
Sakura has no time to date. Shisui has no restraints. An injury brought them closer and their story begins.
❥ ⌈ Take Me Or Leave Me • AsterKnightengale ⌋
Rating : E || Pairing : MultiSaku (Kakasaku/ItaSaku/ShiSaku/GenSaku) || Canon divergence AU
“With the last of my power, I will take everything from you, as you have from me. This I curse you.” Everything around Sakura went black. She was falling, her legs tumbling from beneath her. It all went by so quickly she couldn’t even bring herself to scream.
When Sakura opened her eyes she was back on the grass though flat on her back this time. Slowly she sat up, a hand clutching her head that was pounding. She looked around and panic gripped her chest like a vice. “Sasuke? Naruto?” She turned to the ledge her team leader was and found it absent. “Kakashi-sensei?”
❥ ⌈ make me lose my breath (hit me hard) • onemorepineapple ⌋
Rating : M || Modern AU
She should have known she was doomed when she punched him in the face and he thanked her for it.
❥ ⌈ Flowers still bloom • jimmythemystic ⌋
Rating : T || Post-war AU
After the death of Sasuke and Naruto during the War, Sakura is only alive because she's pretty sure if she hadn't pulled herself off the ground, Kakashi would have buried himself beside them. And what would the village do without their Hokage?
Life in the village is starting to go back to normal. By chance, Sakura encounters someone long thought lost by the village. Can life, and love, bloom again?
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❣ If you find any fics that have your best interest in mind and enjoy the reading, please let the author know your thoughts and love of them! 🤗💖 You can also check out authors’ other works simply click on their name that has been provided next to their work!
❣ Are there more fics suggestion? Feel free to add more! This post is purely made just to recommend readers not to missed out any good worth fics to read— The more fics to recommend, the merrier~💕
❣ Not to forget, as always, happy reading!
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puppyeared · 7 months
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When you backread through a fun conversation you had with someone for hours an angel gets its wings
#I was talking to my brother about Norman doors and I had fun in my UX class and he was telling me about demon cores and the trolley problem#in his class. AND I remembered to take my meds today so I can feel every cell in my body. i can feel the neurons rubbing together#and yesterday I infodumped about the specialists bullseye chart to crow and how it ties with witch hat atelier#WHICH I MANAGED TOGET THEM TK READ IM SO HAPPY. I MAKE SQUEALING GUINEA PIG NOISES EVERY TIME THEY TELL ME WHAT THEYVE READ SO FAR. AHH#i might not even be scratching the surface with witch hat there are so many themes i could not possibly fathom or go over my heasd#and thats what makes it so exciting there are so many spaces in between that you can fill with your thoughts and i. i#waves my hands around manically#for anyone interested in my insane ramblings. the bullseye chart is from are we all scientific experts now by harry collins#in my own words its basically saying everything we know about anything is a game of broken telephone#and it discusses how information gets lost in translation between experts and laymen including things that arent in control#one of the main points was how things that happen between experts are complicated including debates and findings#that you can only really understand thru research and experience in that field and cant be smoothly shared without it being reworded#and risking some of those key points. or even concepts that are hard to understand that cant be shared at all#like if you tried to tell me about how DNA works using words scientists are familiar with but i am NOT- i risk missing concepts that i need#to understand to know how it works on the level you understand. or i risk having it reworded and understanding it but not on that level#AND IT DOES TIE TO WITCH HAT THE WITCH AND NORMAL FOLK COMMUNITIES I PROMISE. ITS SO INTERESTING#anyway i spent hours reading back thru that conversation and i might as well admit it goes for almost every fun conversation i have#and it might be the 20mg of adderall in my body but i am in such a state of peace and love i have to verbalize it. ahh#yapping
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