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morgana-ren · 9 months ago

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Throwing out the idea that Astarion furiously masturbates over your sleeping body while he drinks your blood. Your blood is the first he’s ever drank in 200 years, it also dosn’t help that you keep being so nice to him. He can’t help it.

I am sorta back after months of medical troubles and I am announcing it in my normal fashion: with a reprehensible smut piece.

Warning: Extreme sexual content, vulgar language, thoughts of noncon, references to noncon, semi-dark Astarion, things that could be interpreted as sexual violence and regular violence, blood and the works.

The skulking has him feeling like more of a lowly rat than usual. He slinks quietly through the fauna like a cat stalking a canary, sneaking across the camp where he has made his own nest, his eyes darting about at every slight flicker of light and every unexpected noise. His comrades-in-arms sleep peacefully, strewn about the ground and various makeshift tents, blissfully unaware that a monster lurks within their midsts, and he fully intends to keep it that way.

As dastardly and lowly as he feels, an unknown feeling courses through him. Something that leaves him feeling strong– predatory. The weak blood of rodents and livestock thrums through his veins, every synapse sparking alive, the string and sinew of his body singing to his limbs in anticipation. Anxiety sends his thoughts racing, and yet, he is giddy as a child with mischief on the mind.

A long-denied truth demands acknowledgement, and so he finally acknowledges it. He is vampire. And he is hunting.

Even a spawn possesses fangs sharp enough to rend flesh from bone and claws of steel, honed to a fine point. His senses so keen that he is aware of the deer that scamper in the forest and the birds coupled away in the branches of trees on the outskirts of the meadow. The pulsing of blood that rings a siren’s song in his ears, awakening the long-dead glands nestled alongside his teeth.

He finds that, for once, he is not the victim in the arrangement. No, he isn't. In fact, he is the horror, looming over his vulnerable and slumbering mark, their body entirely at his mercy— His right to his to sink deep fang and claw and anything else he might deem fit, helpless to stop him. For once, his true self shines through in the dim firelight of camp, and he is not the Astarion he has been browbeaten into seeing himself as. He is not unmolded clay, ready to be shaped at will by clutching hands and eager thoughts. He is not malleable and he shall not bend.

He is not Astarion the spawn; Astarion the mongrel; Astarion the Honeypot; Astarion the tool to be used and discarded. He is not the meek, or the charming, or whatever else his prey finds need of. He is power and gluttonous greed incarnate. He is the prowling shadow over the unsuspecting sweet and he will take what he needs.

He is Astarion the Vampire– and he is ravenous.

The gentle toe-tip-toe through the grass to where his prey lies ignorant, sleeping so terribly peacefully, his silken shoes making nary a sound as he creeps ever closer. Feet light as air, graceful as a swan. Even the wind seems to disregard his presence, passing over him with hardly a fuss through his silver curls.

They suspect not a thing. Even the warrioress Lae’zel, her sharpened senses whetted like a blade, keeps her eyes sheathed shut, her breath even and her body unmoving. There is no cry of anger or protest as he approaches the clutch of blankets where you have made your rest, leering over your slumbering form, feeling all parts pure need as he observes.

Saliva slicks his ivory teeth like a slavering mutt, his hands almost shaking as he kneels on bended knee to witness the gently pulsing column of your exposed throat. It calls to him, sings to his senses, and every ounce of his being begs him to shred hungrily into his meal like a carnivore– like a beaten animal starved of nourishment. Like a dog offered scraps of offal.

But he is not an animal, and you are useful to him yet. He is dignified, but more than that, he is in control of himself. He is in control of his words and actions, and for one time in his all-too-long life, he will not yield to the whims of another, even the dark voice in the back of his mind that urges him to rip and tear and maul like the wretched thing he is.

No, his first meal will not be one of viscera and terror and screaming, even as the idea appeals to the baser parts of him. It shall be quiet and quick as a rogue in the night, and though he would expect disappointment from the revelation, he finds that this moment shared privately with himself and only himself is something he intends to treasure.

He has named you for his mark for this most special of occasions. Even as he knows you likely wouldn’t feel honored by such a thing, he feels a quiet sense of pride on your behalf. You are his first taste of true life. A place of high honor in the triumvirate of freedom:

His first glimpse of the sun; his first venture into the world; his first true meal.

Gentle as a lover, he kneels over you, teeth bared, scarlet eyes flashing in the firelight. A calm hand on your shoulder to steady you, the other splayed across the grass to anchor himself. His fingers quake in both eagerness and anxiety, his hearing hypersensitive to every rustle and sigh that does not belong to the chorus of nature in the evening hours. He has committed himself to this, but to be caught is to condemn himself red-handed to the stake– a fate he’d rather avoid.

As he leans, his teeth gliding gently across delicate, slightly dampened skin, he believes it worth the risk.

The tang of sweat and flesh hits his taste buds as he softly glides his tongue across the pulse-point of your throat. He licks where he intends to find his feast, savoring the flavor of his intended prey. Many times he had caught himself staring, wondering what it might be like; what you might be like, and he fully intends to satiate the curiosity that had been building in his brain for weeks on end.

As he indulges himself in the thought, he finds he can no longer wait. He tells himself he cannot stall– cannot draw this out as he might’ve liked to– but the nagging churning in his gut rings above all else. He is starved and he must sate it. He does not join in the argument between the two warring forces in his mind, and instead resorts to pure instinct to settle the matter.

His fangs dimple tender flesh at first, and then, soft as a whisper, sink inside. Lifeblood floods his mouth like a symphony of rapture, the taste of ecstasy on his tongue, and his lips clamp like a viper on your throat, eager and yearning for more. It is as liquid fire as it slides down his throat, your soft whimpering spurring in tandem with the glory that branches through his every quivering limb and sets his mind alight. His eyes, vigilant at first, now flutter shut, allowing himself to fall into the velvet-cloaked abyss.

The thousand-year fog lifts from his brain as he drinks and for the first time since breath still filled his lungs, he feels right.

Raw strength almost seems to inflate his lean muscle, plucking a harpsichord on his tendons. The pounding drum of your rabbiting heart beneath your ribs plays in tandem with the rush of blood in his ears. The deafening cacophony of the cold, miserable years is blasted away and finally stitches together in unison with an ethereal orchestra of utter intoxication. A preternaturally beautiful song that lulls him into the first sense of peace he has felt in years– perhaps that he has ever felt. A tune he shall never forget for as long as he lives.

His senses soar so high that he swears, beneath the deafening chorus of euphoria, he can hear the revelry as far as Baldur’s Gate. In his mind’s eye, the unsuspecting citizens of the Jewel are celebrating the birth of a new man born under the silvery spears of moonlight miles away. These many long years, he has been truly dead, and only now, he is resurrected in the swaddling shroud of blood and dark. He has been truly reborn. At one with himself at last, he thinks. At one with you.

The blood falls easily down his throat, pooling warmly in his gut in glorious fulfillment. The delirium tendrils outward, gently coaxing bliss and promise where it caresses. His legs buckle, pale cheeks hot and flushed, some unknown sensation taking hold like a fist as he suckles and refusing to relinquish the iron grip. The low of his abdomen tingles, drawing in life like a vacuum to a place once desolate and lifeless.

It is a feeling he cannot place at first. Something dusted and forgotten and placed far and away in his mind, out of reach. And yet, as the delectable warmth floods every inch of his body anew, he experiences it as plainly as when his heart still beat in his chest and youth was as inevitable as the rising sun. The needle-thin hairs of his body stand on end, palms beginning to sweat against your shoulder. A primal need swells in his stomach, a gentle throbbing between his thighs that translates into pain as he strains against the leather of his breeches.

Arousal.

Desire bleeds into itself, separate colors swirling together to become one enthralling splash on the rapacious canvas of his brain. The scalding hot bliss of the feed and the tiny, breathy mewls of your still-sleeping form. You have given him what he so desperately coveted, and now, it seems, his nature demands he take more– everything you hold dear in its entirety offered up at the altar of his superior strength and cunning and existence.

The inherent eroticism of feeding is not lost on him, but it has never held any meaning until this moment. Lust is a cruel stranger that he has opted to spurn. Something wielded against him as a weapon– a barbed whip that has flogged and scarred him into conditioned disgust. It is unfamiliar at first, and yet it screams now with the same familiarity as every other function and twice as demanding.

Pale lashes flutter open, doubled vision focusing in almost too sharply on your strained features: the soft furrow of your brow, the scrunch of your still-closed eyes, the soft pout of your petal-pink lips, slick with moisture from your unconscious whines of pain. He has noticed you, yes, in the way another might notice a dagger or a halberd or a stocky shield to wield. Your appearance is just one in a long line of defenses he intended to harvest for his own gain, and yet now, as he hazily stares at the shadow of your profile that flickers in the flames, he feels the unmistakable curl and coil of a different kind of need.

Something steely clamps onto his consciousness beyond the haze of unreason. He cannot. That is too far, and something distant and shrill in his mind knows it. As desperate as he is to crawl atop and mount you, leaving you breathless and hoarse in his wake, he cannot. Some things can never be forgiven, and he has already crossed that line for his own well-being. Ravaging you as you lie vulnerable and helpless– trusting– serves no purpose in keeping him alive.

He tells himself this, his suckling receding to a temperate drawl, laving tongue and teeth across the puncture wounds. The baser parts of him cry protest, the pulsing becoming more insistent with each passing second, until it leaves him knock-kneed and clutching at the grass for purchase against the cresting tide of want. All variety of debased scenarios fly through his mind, each one more debauched than the last.

Control and lust, two things unfamiliar with each other before now due to the cruel nature of his existence, fold in perfectly as one and sharpen into a vengeful blade he craves to use. How he longs to leave a wound as deep as the one he carries day after day, unrelenting and open as the day it was wrought. He wants to lash out, to strike, to take as he pleases as the world has taken so from him–

A wound not meant for you, he must remind himself through the hot-pink haze, even as it defies him.

No. It is a line he will not cross. He is a monster, but he is a monster of a different breed. You have given him everything, even as you do not know it. More pragmatically, he will not give his life for one brief, violent encounter of forcefully obliged desire. He is worth more than such vile things, he tells himself, and strangely, he finds as he ponders it, so too are you.

He repeats it in his head as a mantra, over and over, practically yelling it over the tidal wave of instinctual impulse that threatens to drag him undertow. He is his own man, and he shall not be controlled ever again; not by Cazador, and certainly not by the more wretched pieces of himself, even as they screech and claw at the cell where he has locked them away, howling their dreadful, unspeakable demands.

It does not abate. The insistent pulse of blood that brings long forgotten life to his appetite, the mortifyingly genuine urge that begs him to touch you, feel you, taste you in the ways he has not craved in eons. It frightens him, and yet, even as he longs to pull himself away, to run and run and run into the darkness where neither you nor this horrible need can find him, he does not. He sits still as a marble statue, almost as if carved in some grotesque form of this heinous moment captured in one rotten, eternal exhibit: half atop your sleeping body, clutching and panting in need, and half splayed absurdly in the dirt, straining and desperately trying to conceal his shame from some invisible force that mocks him.

He cannot have you. Even as he yearns and craves it with a fire that singes and burns his overactive nerves and imagination, he cannot. Yet, his body will not relent, demanding release from the torment that plagues both his mind and his nethers in equal form, paralyzing him in a dangerous inactivity. You won’t awaken– he has taken too much and your weakness is apparent– but the others might and he must act. Compromise is a risk he cannot take–

And still he must.

And so, even as he should withdraw and return to the pitiful, empty loneliness of his tent, he does not. Instead, he realigns himself, as quiet and swift as the wind, still half-perched over you, but with a newly freed hand to his disposal for a contemptible purpose. It snakes the length of his torso to the waist of his breeches, his dexterous fingers undoing the laces with desperate speed and agility, his expression equal parts humiliation, shame, and anxious desire. He slides the waistband down enough that his long-neglected cock springs free, his muscles bracing and tensed as his newly blood-warmed flesh is chilled in the cool night air. Pinprick pores betray his discomfort at the crisp evening gale, but the rest of himself is otherwise occupied, consumed by his present task.

One of his sharply tipped fangs worries at the swell of his plush lower lip as he wiggles his pants further down, both internally cursing and praising the newly unlocked spectrum of his vampiric grace that make such conspicuous actions effortless and reticent. Even as he is agile and practiced, each urgent movement feels fluid and natural. Silent as the grave and insignificant against the sounds of nature that envelop their surroundings. He does not fumble or falter, smooth as satin and with steely resolve as his palm finds his shaft and a shiver runs the length of his spine, settling readily in his abdomen.

In his previous encounters, he could put himself into working order, but nothing like this. It was a job– something that must be done, no matter how distasteful or degrading. What he feels now, it’s almost foreign to him; his cock strangely hot and pulsing with a heartbeat of its own. Heavy as sin in his hand and just as demanding, just as cruel in its insistence. Stiff and throbbing, a compass point dogged and unrelenting as it seeks to nestle between your wet, silky thighs and burrow there. It shrieks in his head, unsatisfied and wailing at his refusal to acquiesce.

He ignores it, testing with one brusque stroke with his palm. It twitches, pleasure blooming upward through his gut even at the slightest of contact. Again, he tightens his fingers around his girth, pumping slowly as the sepulcher where he had locked away all dead semblance of lustful craving and fervor comes to life once more. As he thumbs the top, he feels the thin, sticky fluid leak from the tip, betraying his eagerness even as he pretends composure– as much composure as he can pretend in this unbelievably humiliating debacle.

He will have to worry about that later.

His eyes sweep over your face once more, peaceful now that his teeth no longer injure your tender neck. Your lips slightly agape, eyelashes fluttering softly as you sweetly dream once more. He imagines how different it might look if he were to uncage his urges– to allow himself the forbidden pleasure of sinking himself inside of you twice in one night. How your eyes might fly open in horror, your lips ready to shriek, little fists balled in defense, only to gasp as he pushes his length between your splayed thighs, enveloping himself in your tight, wet heat. White-hot. Exquisite. Immaculate.

The companions are gone– no, they don’t exist. It is only you and him now, you sprawled beneath him, half shock and half horror, and he– the predator that has stalked you from the shadows, the vampire in the night– taking as he pleases, as is his right. He feels your velvet walls flutter around him, trying to adjust to the cruel new thickness bullying inside them, squeezing him in the most delicious way. Your mouth is still open in a wordless cry as he plunges his tongue between your teeth, tasting a different part of you now, swallowing the desperate sounds you begin to make.

His cock throbs against the calloused flesh of his palm as he strokes himself, teeth gritting to quiet the noise that bubbles in his throat from the blossoming pleasure that takes root and begins to grow rapidly out of control. The fantasy plays in perfect form in his head, and it almost feels real as he gathers the precum in the crook of his thumb and slicks it over the shaft with firm fingers, pretending it’s your body that wets and grips him.

You would fight and struggle– he knows you would– but you are nothing in the face of his sheer strength and dominance. Pinned by the deceptively strong muscle of his lean body, you have no choice but to follow his lead, thighs forced wider to accommodate his narrow hips, back pressed firmly against the ground by his weight. Your tits, warm and soft beneath the thin fabric of your nightshirt and begging to be squeezed, squashed against him with the frantic rise and fall of your chest.

The squeal his first thrust would rip from you would be heavenly. High-pitched and pathetic, and yet almost drowned out by the equally sweet clench of your body around his. So tight that it almost aches him, unaccustomed to the intrusion and compelled to yield to him, moulding itself to the shape of him inside of you. He slides out slow, almost callous and so terribly casual in his malice, making you feel every inch of him drag against the supple walls of your cunt before slamming in again, vicious in his impact. Your body jumps beneath him from the force, whining into his mouth. Your blunt nails digging into his arms and tearing at his frigid, stone flesh. It is futile– he can barely even feel it, and the slight sting he can is laced with pleasure and the reminder that you are at his mercy now.

He is panting, breath coming in ragged staccato bursts even as it is unnecessary to him. Pure instinct has a hold of him now, his hand working in unfailing rhythm between his thighs as he loses himself in the vision. Your injury weeps ever so slightly, and he cannot help the flick of his tongue along the twin-pocked bitemarks, leaving a thinly shining trail of blood-streaked saliva in his wake. He aches to touch you; to slip the delicate sleeve of your nightwear down and indulge himself in the softness of your body.

He is not so subtle in his mind. He simply tears the garment, ripping it from your body with terrible ease. One hand busies itself with containing yours above your head, squeezing at the wrist to keep you captive even as you thrash, the other luckier still as it gropes and pinches your breast. Warm in his hand, he can feel your pulse skyrocketing in fear or perhaps excitement– whichever suits him most– as he reels back and cants his hips forward again.

His hips slap against your thighs with bruising strength, your body beginning to respond to his in kind. He feels your wetness slick over his cock and lubricate his next few thrusts, heightening his pleasure. You mewl against his tongue, body arching into his, perhaps against your own will, fingers flexing and furling fruitlessly in his grasp. He settles into rhythm, cruel but precise, hips grinding with every punctuating impetus. It takes an absurd amount of mental discipline not to simply take you in furious, animalistic fashion as he longs, but he manages through the impulse, lower body moving in circular rhythm, his pelvic bone stimulating you with each contact.

Your panicked breaths become heaving pants, flittering eyes glazing over and becoming heavy, the muscles that are pulled so tautly in defense waver and eventually flop, accepting your defeat at his hands. Perhaps you are betrayed and hurt and hateful, but you desire him. He is beautiful in the moonlight, pale as a ghost but alive and burning with unhinged need and that same fire kindles between your legs and winds and winds tighter like a top before the spin. He releases your swollen, puffy lips only for his fangs to find your throat and your cry is desperate and howling, your blood sweeter than the finest wine as it touches his tongue.

You cannot formulate words– neither of encouragement nor protest– as he fucks you relentlessly into the ground, helping himself to your body and your blood. Only nasally, frantic cries can make it past your throat, your hands grasping at him, pleading and desperate. He hooks your thigh around his waist, fingers digging into the flesh with bruising strength, and you clamp it there, almost as if clinging to him for purchase as he bucks and snaps, snarling like a beast perched to pounce.

You are helpless and small and defenseless and vulnerable in the face of him, and he is strong and virile and predatory and fearsome. He has no need of your protection; he is the ruthless power of the night and the fear the lurks in the dark. He ravages you with no regard to the future, knowing only that he holds it in his palm, and if he wants you, he shall take you. He does not walk in shadow and skulk in fear, but boldly in the open, the world and you ripe for the plucking.

He cannot help it. His hand is not enough. Ecstasy builds in his apex, building and bubbling at his fantasy, but he needs to feel. The hand not currently stroking himself in frantic need finds a way under the loose opening of your shirt, defying his mental mantra. The curve of your breast coaxes his skin, swelling and warm against his flesh as his insubordinate fingers find their way lower and lower under your blouse. Your nipple peaks as he gently rolls it in his careful, ghostlike fingertips, squeezing at your chest with an inhuman tenderness that only has him craving harder, more–

Your cries would come in unison with his own, yours wailing and pathetic and squealing, and his rugged and husky and snarling. You would bare yourself to him– all of you– acquiescing to his unrelenting power. He would take you there, on the ground like an animal how he pleased and for as long as he pleased. Now you are the clay for him to shape and play with and use as he pleases, existing only for him and his wants. Your blood is in no short supply, and he sups and dines as he pleases while he uses your body to pleasure his cock and the baser parts of himself that have reignited inside of your core. You are powerless to fight him, so you give yourself over completely to him, debasing yourself for him, crawling for him, needing him.

You’d beg for him, body and soul, so eager and ready. Desperate and pathetic. He’d fuck you until your whines became higher and higher, eventually spilling into the night in humiliating urgency as you came undone beneath him. Your legs quivering and shaking, senses gone and inhibition nonexistent. Your fluttering walls would tighten and squeeze and damn near strangle him, the absurd sound of your wetness utterly mortifying if you had your wits about you, but music to his ears.

Harder and faster with no regard for your overstimulated crooning, he’d take you, working himself to his peak, almost rabid in his unhinged, disjointed movements. His rhythm would fail, becoming more convulsive and urgent with every plunge of his hips. He’d chase his end inside of you, the blissful heat of your body, the cadence of your moans, and snug, velveteen swaddling of your sopping cunt the closest taste of the divines he’ll ever have– that he’ll ever want.

He’d cum inside of you, burying himself so deep that he’d be certain you could taste it. It would spill out of you as he milked himself to completion with your pliant body, heaving against your bloody neck, a hand in your hair to rip your head back and drag down against him. Bruised inside and out in the shape of him, his hands, his teeth, his cock all leaving their permanent mark. It won’t heal, it won’t ever heal, he’ll make sure of it–

It’s his– it’s his– it’s all for him and no one else. Not even the Gods could wrestle this away from him. There isn’t a force in the planes that could pry him from atop you– you belong to him, your body, your mind, your tongue, your taste, your cunt–

His cock throbs furiously in his hand, gritted pants and strangled noises escaping his throat. It is only through sheer supernatural ability that he is able to withdraw his hand from your shirt and catch himself before he slumps completely atop you, no doubt waking you with the force of it. The ecstasy spills over, unfettered bliss exploding outward from his core and sparking fire throughout every inch of his body. His eyes roll backward, head slooping forward as he works his pulsing cock, every last ounce of self-control in his ancient body holding back a howling cry.

He spills into his palm, carelessly covering his shaft in the sticky, gossamer fluid as he milks clean the very last remnants of pleasure from himself with the fervor of a man starved of it. His toes curl in his shoes, teeth gritting to the point of pain as he withholds a sigh of euphoria. His extremities tingle as his body sags, muscles exhausted and screaming from the exertion, and he almost collapses as it fades from him as quickly as it approached, still singing beautiful contentment somewhere deep inside of him.

Sagging completely into the dirt, he lies there, bare and open to the sky: Hand defiled and dripping with the seed of his shame, sweat wetting the delicate white curls behind his ears, breeches pulled cleanly to his akimbo knees. It takes a moment for the world to settle into his foggy brain once more, but shame cuts as cleanly as a knife as the clouds of desire split and the light of reality once again illuminates the situation.

Frantic fear takes hold of his stomach, and his head swivels towards where you sleep, calmed only by the fact that you still sleep soundly with no inkling or inclination as to what he has just done. As he glances around, the rest of the camp is equally unaware, each person neatly in their place, unmoving and unalert. His secret is his and no one elses.

He allows himself a few moments to catch the breath he does not need, wiping the evidence of the encounter into the grass with a sense of disgust and indignity as he does. He feels remarkable– alive for the first time in centuries– and yet it is marred by the yoke of scandal he feels having been bested by such an absurd thing. Overwhelming desire he has not felt since he was a young, handsome elf brimming with potential and swarming with suitors, back when his chest still beat with blood and his skin was flushed and warm rather than pale and pallor.

It’s unfamiliar to him, and he bares his teeth at the thought. Sex is something filthy and cursed– and yet it didn’t feel so in the moment. Even now, his fingertips tingle at the thought of your puckered peak gently caressed, the soft sound of your sighs, the vulnerability you show him. He’d barely touched you and yet you sent his senses alight like a bonfire. The taste of you still lingers on his tongue, and he cannot help but savor it. As he hikes the band of his pants back up his hips, he feels shame, yes, but also something different. Something oceans away from the helpless misery he usually feels after the degrading act.

He feels at peace. He feels satisfaction. He feels right. He does not feel debased, but empowered– almost giggly as a schoolboy at the wrongness of it all.

He chose this. For the first time he can remember, he chose this. He took control and his pleasure did not come at his own expense. It came at yours, yes, but he doesn’t like to make a habit of grappling with fragile, banal things such as morality. He is a libertine, and where he finds pleasure, he shall take it, because he knows all too well what it is to be starved of it and all that makes life worth living.

Besides, you seem fine. Sleeping deep as a babe in the cradle, none the wiser. As he sits right and dabs potion at the wounds at your neck so as to not leave a trace of his crime, he allows himself one quiet, satisfied sigh. It disconcerts him that as he studies your slumbering body and slack face, he feels pinpricks in his core once again, whispering remnants of that desire that had unhinged him so before, but he will have to unpack that later.

He is no fool. Something has changed, and it isn’t the strength that flows through him free as a fountain that was once clogged and stunted, nor the heightened attunement of his mind to damn near everything around him to the point of absurdity. He feels right for the first time with the blood he has stolen away with, and smug at getting away with something so risky as he often does, but more than that.

He is a vampire fully satisfied in more ways than one, and the fulfillment and delight he feels overrides the shame and wrestles it into the quiet.

You are something to him, though he isn’t sure what. He had not questioned why he’d picked you before, but the question begs itself now. He does not allow himself the indulgence of touching you once more. He doesn’t taste you or feel your skin. He only withdraws as silently as he came, backing off and away from the light of the fire that burns low, dying embers spitting against charred, ashen logs, his shadow stretching long before disappearing into the dark of the night.

As he moves back to his tent, he stalks the shadows, but he does so with head held high, back straight as a bow, graceful and the very picture of pride. There’s an unmistakable grin on his reddened lips and a flush to his face not wholly attributed to the blood that now courses through him. Pieces of himself unlocked after so many years of servitude. He feels himself again, and the world feels his oyster once more. What your role is in that world, he doesn’t know yet.

But he has a feeling he’ll figure it out soon enough.

#Astarion x Reader #astarion x female tav #astarion fanfic #But unhinged #See warnings for... warnings #Dark Astarion #At least in his own head #He's conflicted okay?#Are we still doing cringe?#Well I am

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moonamite · 2 years ago

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POKÉMON IDEAS I NEED TO GET OUT:

Antlions

Fleas (fighting/bug, with a lot of kicking moves)

Anglerfish (that’s scary, unlike Lanturn)

More trees! Maybe a regional variant of Trevanaunt? Mangrove trees!

More. Snails.

Sand cat

Borzoi

Hares. Not bunnies. Hares.

Honeypot ants

Raccoons

Possums

Dolphin (but evil)

Shark (but cute!!)

Donkey (those mfs are vicious to coyotes- maybe make a coyote Pokémon for it to have beef with? Like a Seviper and Zangoose situation)

You know those fat round frogs from the desert? The potato fairies? Make a ground/fairy desert frog Pokémon.

Manatee (maybe ground/water or water/grass. You know because of the algae that grows on em)

Different variants of Applin? Like, what if the worm was inside different fruits?

A gargoyle themed Pokémon

Hear me out. A wyvern slug. With retractable legs.

Tropical variant of Flabebe!!

Cactus

Venus flytrap

Carnivorous plants in general tbh

Flatworm with a night sky aesthetic

Sea bunny!!

Cheetah (electric- maybe it generates electricity by resting in the sun, and using it up when it chases prey)

A haunted set of armor (maybe having a symbiotic relationship with honedge)

Gemstone Pokémon (rock/psychic)

Steel type anteater with razor sharp claws just like real life

A fairy/dragon type… maybe based off a dragonfly or a butterfly?

A peacock with psychic abilities it uses with its eyes in its tail feathers

An octopus that uses a clam shell as armor (like a slowbro situation where it’s two Pokémon in one)

That’s all I got for now, bye!

#Pokémon #Pokémon ideas #fakemon designers can use this lol #art ideas

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yfere · 6 years ago

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Shipping Calculus! Live Updates from C2E62

Downtime (n): a word which here means “bust a drug ring and spy on war meetings,” with some home improvement on the side.

*wheezes* Anyway, we do math no matter how stressed we are, yes? A mathematician must never be daunted by mere….madness. Masterpost here.

+23 to Fjord/Jester Outside experts were necessary for this. On the one hand, Shipping Calculus Law states that you lose points for facilitating a relationship to another person….but if you do that while also clearly getting “heart eyes” for the whole affair? Those rules no longer apply. We have, here, Fjord’s Over The Top “I Am So Cool Pls Notice” at Jester referencing his bravery at rooming next to her, and mutual, uh, attempts to comfort that are Deflected By This Deflecting Pair! You Would Earn More Points For Not Deflecting! Oh no, Jester, are you worried about your mom I’m sure she’s oka—NAH, FJORD, HOW ARE YOU. Are you feeling uncomfortable latel—NAH, I’M FINE I’M HAVING ZERO ISSUES WITH THE WATER EXCEPT THAT IT’S IN MY EARS AND I CAN’T HEAR YOU. Lots and lots of banter, and Jester asking Fjord about whether this is his first home, and offering him a mural because she’s a sweetheart. Point loss because Fjord did not accept the mural invitation which makes Jester, deprived of this gesture of affection from her artistic soul, very sad. Also, Jester’s hair was gross and that’s a tragedy for all Jester ships this week.

+8 to Beau/Jester Speaking of gross hair. These two—still roomates! Beau looking for the Best Room, as always! And for some reason, they very much don’t mind in each other all the things that would make them awful roomates to everyone else? Jester happily deals with Beau’s horrific snoring (if they ever have to split, Beau and Cads need to room as the resident snorers), and Beau handles Jester’s Hair Fiasco with nary a complaint, only a surreptitious request for some incense from Caduceus. That’s love. Point loss for Beau complaining about Nugget’s drooling—you need to love pets to love Jester, and that is law

-30 to Jester/Pets. But pets….they may not love Jester. My darling….forcing your beaten and world weary weasel (a ground dweller) into a tree dwelling against its will, forgetting your weasel’s name….I mean, you would think that someone would have sat you down by now to talk about consent (and that you never call someone you love by another name).

+20 to Beau/Gaydar And she foooooooooooools Caleb into thinking it’s a faulty Straightdar that has her saying he and Nott have tension. Don’t worry, Caleb, Beau understands you a little too well. And as we all know, ejecting a man from your room is a Special Lesbian Power bequeathed from the gods.

+2 to Caleb/Fjord/Jester because Frumpkin also got to hang out and gape at Fjord’s tremendously awkward honeypot display at the apothecary. Those three made a stellar Team A to the two-team investigation, with Jester and Fjord distracting like champs while Frumpkin learned of the invisible guard! Also, +2 to Frumpkin/Detective Work!

+18 to Jester/Yasha for Jester’s incredibly thoughtful and sweet wildflower mural for Yasha, and Yasha’s equally sweet surprise and thankfulness. A perfect combination of the ancient and venerable practices of Seduction Through Art and Seduction Through Flower Arrangements—Jester is on top of her game. Point loss for sticking even a lovingly drawn dick anywhere in Yasha’s vicinity, that should be illegal

+2 to Beau/Yasha for partnering up to go to the library, yeah! A training pit, which is Ripe for Physical Contact Opportunities! Yasha being inspired by Beau’s bracers to get a set of her own, and you know how wlw love sharing clothing? I’m just saying.

+15 to Caleb/Caduceus A bit of an understated week, in the absence of Intense Conversation, but with a lot going on. Beginning, of course, with Caduceus making Caleb’s Special Gift the Literal Symbol of him “putting down roots” and spending a full week making it the centerpiece of the Xhorhaus and such an ostentatious landmark no one in the city will ever forget it. Caleb helps out with construction of the garden using cat-shaped spellwork, and also invites everyone he meets to Come To the Krynn’s First Treehouse the man is proud. Frumpkin, too, climbing the tree, and it’s only a matter of time before Caleb does the same. Speaking of, Caleb once more pulling the “O, Large and Attractive Man, Please Shield Me From the Haters” card in a Cramped Alley, which Caduceus himself sort of initiated by aggressively campaigning for Frumpkin Spying. Nott gets +5 to Cockblocking for pulling Caduceus away to Detect Magic. Caduceus making windchimes to help make feel Caleb safe—though Caleb is sadly dismissive at the time No point gain for Caduceus’ very sweet and genuine and incredibly unsuccessful attempt to prevent the wizard from choking to death on his grand plans. Point loss for Caleb preferring to use residuum to craft a protective ring, possibly over trying to fix the sword that Caduceus is fixated on. Can Caleb’s Sword make him forget about it?

+30 to the M9/Winning the Local Dick Measuring Contest. You take a tower, you add a 60 foot tree as an elaborate penis metaphor, spread your seed all over the rooftop garden, and put permanent daylight in a region that is permanently dark and worships the Light. All right. Okay.

+20 to Caleb/Essik oh gods, and now we have evidence that a cleaned up fashionable Caleb is perhaps also a little bit catnip for the NPCs. Caleb’s silver tongue and flirtatious finger-wiggling with his special Cat Spell? Bowing and opening the door with magic like A Flirt? The favor exchange convo which is how Every Male Character Woos Caleb Apparently? Essik, for his part, giving up his schedule for the moment, strutting his stuff with his fancy spellbook and chuckling and asking for Caleb’s permission and no one else’s to enter the home???? These boys move faaaaast. We’ll see how this develops with time. Also, between the spellwork Giving Caleb Game and Frumpkin detectiving, +50 to Caleb/Cat-Shaped Creatures, +30 to Caleb/Plot Relevant Magic Gott-damn

+35 to Fjord/Caleb So here in Shipping Calculus, Intense Conversations earn lots of points and uh, there was so much steam from this one it got sound effects. Clasping of hands, promises, declarations, in a callback to Every Major Widofjord Moment Ever. Not to mention, the ambushing-in-the-room maneuver straight (?) out of a romance novel. Caleb taking a gentle pry bar to the locked door of Fjord’s past and insecurities, as all Fjord shippers ultimately hope to see revealed on screen. The mention of Mighty Nein being family? Admiration and resentment? We can remake ourselves into something better? Admitting to worrying about everyone? Saying Caleb is not crazy (but he may be, crazy for someone?) Point loss for Fjord not…..getting the caring thing up until the end, probably. Oh dear. Oh my.

+55 to The Cast/Ashley Johnson. Yasha never fucking says anything, but Sam and Liam both love Ashley. Laura wants everyone to fuck off except Ashley, she’s an angel and we’re glad she’s here.

-100 to Caleb/Astrid/Eodwulf as Caleb says at one point Astrid was “The One” for him. But Caleb. Why could it not have been “The Two?” Throw me us a bone here.

+1000 to Nott/Yeza KISS! THEY KISS! And Nott goes on about not needing to kiss for some things. Spending time in the hot tub together, and in the Lab together (thanks, Caleb!) and being Dangerous Together. Yeza offering to be a house husband and clean up the place while they adventure! Nott being too protective of Yeza to send him without protection to the Coast or the Empire!

+14 to Caleb/Jester as Caleb aims the full force of his Worrywart self at Jester’s direction over the Astrid letter—all Jester ships gain points for distress over Marion Lavorre, as it should be. Jester alongside Nott immediately and frantically insisting that nothing letter-related is Caleb’s fault at all, but hey it’s not Jester’s fault either, it was Nott who told her what to write and she didn’t know anyyything. The suggestion for “The Salty Sea” that Jester and Caleb (and Fjord, hello +1 to Caleb/Fjord/Jester) are tied up with becoming the unlocking mechanism for a secret entrance to Caleb’s library. Jester unfortunately funnels many points into +20 to Jester/Foot in Mouth as she makes sad Astrid conversation but more importantly the horrific “you’ll always be an assassin to me” flirt. Jester. Jester no. Jester you know how he feels about his past right. Jester?

+3 to Beau/Hosting which was great until the cocktail racism, damn that’s a lot of point loss

+70 to Nott the Best Detective Agency/Detective Work as they uncover evidence of a SUUDE OPERATION and listen in on KING DWENDAL’S WAR PLANS. Interpretation of evidence once more provided by partner Beau and Lab Guy Caleb, who between their history and arcana checks and shady histories shed light on the puzzle before them.

-15 to Fjord/Charming the Neighbors. Caduceus is unfortunately too busy with home renovations to be his sweet Lets Bake For The Neighbors self, so Fjord ventures outside and proves why there need to be three high CHA people in this party. Because while Fjord can swing a honeypot in a crisis and intimidate like no one’s business, his inclination to dress people down and match insult for insult makes things go pretty sour with Bylan pretty quickly. The obvious solution, considering Fjord’s skill set, is to redress the issue by undressing the man.

+100000000000000000000000000000000000 to CR/Naming It The Xhorhaus because it got a SONG!!!!!!!!!

#cr spoilers #critical role #widofjord #widojest #fjorester #widofjorester #clayleb #beaujester #lavorregard #beauyasha #jestasha #shipping calculus

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epicstuckyficrecs · 6 years ago

Text

Best of 2018 Stucky Fic Rec!

Another year gone! How the time goes by! :P

This year has been a huge year for me personally and for this blog - I went back into my archive to check, and I’ve gained more than five thousand followers this year, which is crazy to me!!! :O Thank you guys so much! I’m glad that you enjoy this blog!

This is the search I used to compile this post

(all fics are in no particular order)

Under a read more because this post has gotten ridiculously long!

(Updated 09/2020)

Personal favorite fics of 2018 (completed)

despite the threatening sky and shuddering earth (they remained) by praximeter (Zimario) (71K)

“They really didn’t want the mask to come off.” Hill thumbed through the scans, and pulled out a film that she then handed over to Sam, face mostly expressionless but for the flat line of her pursed lips.

Sam accepted the film and held it up to the light, angling so both he and Steve could see it, squinting at the outline of the Winter Soldier’s skull, and the blips of unnatural white that showed up, God, in his brain, not to mention about half his teeth, plus the mask, with its thin protrusions—

“Those are pins,” Steve realized. He looked over at Hill. “The mask—it’s nailed to his face.”

Hill’s face was as unmoved as ever. “Like I said. They really didn’t want it coming off.”

~ ~ ~

If They Haven't Learned Your Name by silentwalrus (237K)

Steve gets out of the hospital in two days, but just barely. “I’m fine,” he tells Sam, Nurse Eunjung and the phalanx of doctors assigned to make sure Captain America didn’t bleed out and die and get bad PR all over their nice clean hospital. “I have an advanced healing factor. It’s fine. See? I’m standing.”

“That is not standing,” Sam tells him.

“You’re bending the IV stand,” Nurse Eunjung adds pointedly. “Let go and sit down, they don’t grow on trees.”

aka Steve and Bucky's Global Honeymoon Revenge World Tour.

~ ~ ~

Ain't No Rest for the Wicked by Kellyscams (305K)

Steve's just moved back to Brooklyn after spending ten years in California trying to make a life for himself as an artist right after high school. Having escaped to the other side of the country following the sudden death of his mother, Steve feels guilty about abruptly leaving all his friends for so long, unfulfilled, scared and nervous about started college at his age, and unbelievably lonely. So when he meets Bucky Barnes, a young sex-worker, at a bar the night before his first day of classes, temptations might be too high to resist.

One night paying for sex with the most sinfully gorgeous guy is nothing to brag to the papers about, huh?

S'not like he'll ever see him again anyway...

...Right?

~ ~ ~

Scents and Sensibility: The Working Assassin's Guide to Supersoldier Seduction by galwednesday, silentwalrus, skellerbvvt (93K)

Captain America wakes up from the ice in 2013. The Winter Soldier wakes up in 2009, or rather defects from HYDRA, for a value of defect that’s closer to decimate. He ends up working for SHIELD. In April 2014, he’s assigned to Captain America’s mission as a sniper. Steve’s just trying to get some kind of life together. Bucky is too, or at least he was until tall, blond and Captain shows up and starts just - being there, all the time. It’s terrible. It’s the worst. He has to do something about it.

~ ~ ~

Heat Forged by cleo4u2, xantissa (159K)

Steve and Bucky have bonded, fallen further in love, and are learning to live together in Avengers Tower. Everything is wonderful, until it isn’t any more. Once again they have to overcome all obstacles set before them to keep their family intact

Part 2 of Heat Wave (Sequel to Heat Stroke: not a stand alone fic.)

~ ~ ~

This is how it starts by rinnya (35K)

Steve Rogers and The Winter Soldier meet for the first time in 2014 during the canon divergence events of Captain America: The Winter Soldier.

It starts like this: this is how they fall in love.

~ ~ ~

My Bucky by cleo4u2, xantissa (12K)

Bucky finds a feral Alpha in the woods. Rather, the Alpha finds him. Bucky is sure it’s the end of his life as an independant Omega. It turns out to be the beginning of the strangest romance Bucky’s ever known.

~ ~ ~

Fill Your Heart Without Trying by Kellyscams (38K)

Steve Rogers is a caster with one very big problem. He's accidentally turned himself into a puppy.

~ ~ ~

(Series) Something Wild Calls You Home by superheroresin (279K)

Bucky’s barbed tongue slips out between two dry, pink lips and tastes the salty familiarity on Steve’s fingertips. The memory is distant, like a dream, and his left ear flicks as he lifts his head with renewed energy. “If it isn’t the Star Spangled Man With a Plan,” he croaks out, grinning wide enough to show his fangs. In which Captain Steve Rogers becomes the new keeper of the disabled hunting cat who once saved his life, and learns that the price of freedom is higher for some more than others.

Part 2 of Something Wild Calls You Home

~ ~ ~

The Firing Line by thepinupchemist (37K)

When Steve's dad is diagnosed with cancer, Steve returns to his childhood home to support his mom -- a small town called Gold Cliff, Colorado. Ten years before, he left Gold Cliff behind him, left his no-longer-best-friend Bucky Barnes behind him, with the intention of never seeing him ever again. But Bucky Barnes crash-lands back into his life nonetheless, long-haired and one-armed and haunted, keeping secrets from day one.

Filled with self-loathing and millennial angst, they agree to a mutually beneficial sexual relationship to blow off steam.

Steve should have known better than to think he could ever put Bucky Barnes behind him.

~ ~ ~

(Series) Honey Honey by justanotherStonyfan (15K)

The kid is maybe, oh, twenty years younger than him? Clean-shaven, and looking out of the corner of his eye at Steve in the same way Steve feels he must be looking at the kid – i.e., like he wants to do any number of unmentionable things to him.

Because boy does Steve ever want to do unspeakable things to this kid.

Part 1 of Honey Honey (236K+)

~ ~ ~

Throw Me (A Helping Hand) by Quarra, RemingtonFae (69K)

Or, where Loki is an absolute troll for the Powers of Mostly-Sometimes-Good, Bucky is having the worst century ever, and everything still manages to turn out mostly okay.

~ ~ ~

The Necrofloranomicon by leveragehunters (Monkeygreen) (47K)

Bucky didn't want much. Just to keep his head down, to sell his scavenged flowers in peace, and to stay off Shield's radar. His life would have been a lot easier if his flowers weren't dead and if being a necromancer wasn't illegal, but easy or not, he was getting by. Steve didn't want much, either. He was happy working for Shield, he had good friends, and overall his life was going just about the way he wanted it. Problem was, being happy with your life was generally an invitation for fate to throw a spanner in the works—and in Steve's specific case, it was going to be a spanner named Bucky.

(A love story about flowers, trust, and magic and the choices we make about doing what's right.)

~~~

Personal favorite WIPs of 2018

Astronomy In Reverse by pansley (Post-WS, Bucky & Peter | 98K, 14/? | Teen)

Fan the Flame by Avaaricious (Shrunkyclunks, Veteran Bucky | 253K, 26/? | Mature)

There Is No Shortage of Blood by alby_mangroves, Dira Sudis (dsudis) (Post-WS, WS Recovery | 234K, 54/58 | Explicit)

Whip Crack by Quarra (Tentacles | 94K, 11/? | Explicit)

ain't really quaint by quietnight, silentwalrus (canon divergent, Post-WS? | 35K, 3/4 | Mature)

the sound of rain on tin by luninosity (MCU & RPF crossover | 17K, 3/4 | Teen)

a rupture, a rapture by newsbypostcard (Post-IW | 71K, 12/30 | Explicit)

~ ~ ~

Other ESFR-approved fics

Under the Bridges of Fame by alby_mangroves, notlucy (Shrunkyclunks | 90K | Explicit)

Through The Woods by alby_mangroves, VenusMonstrosa (Werewolf Bucky | 64K | Explicit)

M is for Murder by rohkeutta (Post-WS | 4K | Mature)

Life of the Party by AggressiveWhenStartled (Shrunkyclunks | 21K | Explicit)

Steve Rogers. Cheerfully Slutty. by relenafanel (Modern AU, friends with benefits | 20K | Explicit)

(series) couples therapy by silentwalrus (Post-WS?, PWP, BDSM | 19K | Explicit)

#TweetMeDaddy by StarSpangled (Senforza) (Shrunkyclunks | 4K | Teen)

Hey, Asshole! A New York City Love story by bunnymaccool (Shrunkyclunks | 14K | Teen)

Sugar Baby Love by roe87 ( Shrunkyclunks, ABO | 117K | Explicit)

The Voyager by notlucy (Shrunkyclunks, Post-Avengers | 76K | Explicit)

The Roommate by layersofart (layersofsilence), Niitza (Shrunkyclunks, Veteran Bucky | 28K | Teen)

Relationship Goals: Have a Relationship by cleo4u2, xantissa (Shrunkyclunks, wrong number | 21K | Explicit)

Just Dropkick The Shame by rohkeutta (Shrunkyclunks | 8K | Explicit)

A Midsummer Knight's Dream by cobaltmoony, GoldBlooded (ABO Fantasy AU | 29K | Explicit)

Sunshine's Gifts by Quarra, wearing_tearing (Fae Bucky, Cap Steve | 52K | Explicit)

In Hydra, Vine Do You by Quarra (Tentacles | 27K | Explicit)

Sorry, Not Sorry by DrowningByDegrees-Art (DrowningByDegrees), SoftObsidian74, The_She_Devil (Shrunkyclunks, Veteran Bucky | 51K | Explicit)

Burnin' For You by GoldBlooded (Modern AU, Firefighter!Steve, Policeman!Bucky |15K | Explicit)

The Department of Special Collections by alby_mangroves, Speranza (OC POV, Post-WS | 4,8K | Teen)

Demonique by BetteNoire (WeAreWolves) (Tentacles, TFA | 39K | Explicit)

Uncertainty of the Law by mambo (Modern AU, Lawyer!Bucky, Artist!Steve | 26K | Mature)

A Marriage of Ice and Fire by alby_mangroves, Mystrana (GOT AU | 75K | Explicit)

Full Metal Sasquatch by newsbypostcard (canon-divergent, Bucky!Cap | 20K | Mature)

Lessons in Normality by relenafanel (Shunkyclunks, Honeypot | 38K | Explicit)

Luck of the Irish Stroll by GoldBlooded (Modern AU | 8K | Explicit)

Alpha Services by roe87 (ABO AU | 18K | Mature)

A Memory Like a Haunting by cobaltmoony, DarkCaustic (Time Travel | 28K | Explicit)

Ready to Comply by exclamation (Post-WS | 66K | Explicit)

where the leaves fall not by dudewhereismypie, obsessivereader (Canon-divergent, Elf!Bucky | 23K | Explicit)

The Grace of the Fire and the Flames by chicklette, cobaltmoony (ABO Fantasy AU | 31K | Explicit)

Dragging Me Down by cleo4u2, cobaltmoony, xantissa (Post-WS | 93K | Explicit)

Salt & Sugar by GoldBlooded, stfustucky (iwillpaintasongforlou) (Modern AU, Chef!Steve&Bucky | 19K | Explicit)

However Much You Feed A Wolf, It Always Looks To The Forest by bloodbuzzedohio (Post-WS | 19K | Explicit)

some say it makes the world go round by mambo (Modern AU , Professor!Steve, Writer!Bucky | 23K | Teen)

We Could be Heroes (Me and You) by alby_mangroves, Chiyume (Shrinkyclinks, Post-WS, Sex worker!Steve | 90K | Explicit)

Roll Out the Red Carpet by Lorien, Quarra, talkplaylove-art (talkplaylove) (Modern AU, Actor!Steve, WS!Bucky | 29K | Explicit)

under a golden january sun by newsbypostcard (Post-BP | 17K | Mature)

First Impressions Aren't Everything by charlesdk (Modern AU | 14K | Teen)

Hearts Like Ours by FindingFrancis, wearing_tearing (Shrunkyclunks, Soulmates AU | 100K | Explicit)

hearts aflame by wearing_tearing (ABO AU | 7K | Explicit)

So, You've Adopted a Fruit by Nejinee (Post-WS | 17K | Explicit)

Endless War by Nonymos (Post-IW | 27K | Mature)

The New Guy by Venusdoom3 (Modern Office AU | 12K | Explicit)

(a silent prayer) Like Dreamers Do by chicklette (Shrunkyclunks Soulmate AU | 12K | Mature)

From Hydra with Love by insomnia1999 (James Bond AU | 21K | Mature)

A Hard Case of You by Chiyume (Modern AU, Lawyer!Bucky, Mechanic!Steve | 21K | Explicit)

It grew on me by Bear_shark, esaael (Shrunkyclunks, Barber!Bucky | 48K | Explicit)

Thank You For Calling by MarleyMortis, The_She_Devil (Shrunkyclunks | 42K | Explicit)

When Life is Not Coming Up Roses Look to the Weeds (and Find the Hidden Beauty) (Part 3 of Above the Rain and Roses Universe) by Kellyscams (Dom/Sub AU | 21K | Explicit)

How to Pet a Cactus by ColorCoated, TrishArgh (Post-WS | 17K | General)

In My Cold Arms by alby_mangroves, coldwinterrose (Eris13), maichan (Canon-divergent, post-Avengers, not WS compliant | 35K | Explicit)

La Belle et la Bête by lecroixss, maichan, sianimations (Beauty and the Beast AU | 66K | Explicit)

Freshwater Memories by superheroresin (Magical Realism | 50K | Explicit)

a line that goes all the way by napricot (post-BP | 45K | Explicit)

And The Horse You Rode In On by BetteNoire (WeAreWolves) (Hate to Love, Soulmate AU | 14K | Explicit)

Home of the Brave by MonocerosRex (Post-WS, Kid fic | 35K | Teen)

Grapes and Grenadine by Marcella-ella (MarcellaBianca), MarcellaBianca (Modern AU, Enemies to Lovers | 16K | Mature)

So I Took a Faithful Leap by odetteandodile (Post-TFA, canon divergent | 19K | Teen)

I'm not where I'm supposed to be, (I hope that you're missing me) by Squeaky (Soulmate AU | 17K | Teen)

Art Thief, Heart Thief by odetteandodile (Modern AU, FBI agent!Steve | 58K | Mature)

Tentacle Things I Like About You! by LadyAngelique, Mystrana (Tentacles, 17K | Explicit)

The Hunt (Part 1 of You Are Responsible For What You Tame) by BlueSimplicity (Post-WS | 18K | Teen)

Save a Horse, Ride a Captain by galwednesday (Shrunkyclunks | 2,7K | Teen)

Consumer Affairs by galwednesday (OC POV | 1K | Teen)

How to Meet Cute by boopboop (Modern Soulmate AU | 1,7K | Teen)

The Twilight Bark (And Other Things Bucky Has To Deal With On A Daily Basis) by spacebuck (Shrunkyclunks | 36K | Explicit)

Boulangerie by onymousann (ABO | 74K | Explicit | TW: Rape)

How Buzzfeed Helped Bucky Barnes Get A Boyfriend by nickel710 (Shrunkyclunks | 40K | Mature)

The Taming by BlueSimplicity (Post-WS | 105K | Mature)

The Sweetest Spark by deadto27 (Sugar Daddy AU (kinda) | 73K | Explicit)

Feast On This by GoldBlooded (Fake Relationship AU | 11K | Explicit)

~ ~ ~

2018 fics on my “To Read” list

The Restoration Artist by superheroresin (Time Travel |109K | Explicit)

Brothers by bloodbuzzedohio (Memoirs | 55K | Explicit)

From Beta to Worse by ColorCoated (ABO AU | 31K, 8/? | Explicit )

While You Were Sleeping by Brenda (Post-CW | 46K | Mature)

Dreamers With Empty Hands (Part 1 of The Hundred Year Playlist) by girlbookwrm (Pre-TFA | 41K | Teen)

when the chips are down by brideofquiet (Modern AU, Crime | 53K | Explicit)

lucida, obscura by Chiyume, gwyneth rhys (gwyneth) (TFA | 20K | Mature)

#stucky #stucky fic #stucky fanfic #stucky fanfiction #stucky fic rec

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mywallsrtalkn · 2 years ago

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CURIOSITY SCRATCHED MY CAT

Lured to a hole-in-a-wall by my sensuous honeypot. With the intent to get this kitty tamed. I played cat and mouse in the car before entering the building. My la petite mort grew near. I was ready to shake a fairly large tree. Maybe even more than I can handle. I made my way through the growing crowd. S-walked my way through the clearing towards the ladies’ room. My panties are seamlessly moist. I took them off and put them in my clutch. The door opened and I heard the sexiest sound. Spanish guitar melody. My back arched as I made my way out to the scene. I went to a bar to have a drink or two to cool the racing of my heart. And the pulse in this dress. Candy Apple Cosmos. They always go to my head. Suddenly, everything and everyone became a slight blur. A gentle hand, other than mine, scaled my body. A deeply toned figure led me to the dark corner at the end of the bar. I turned slightly to feel out his slacks. My body moved to the beat of the music playing. Grinding against him and his lengthy shaft. His moans driving me crazy. He unzipped his pants and let me feel the real deal. I wanted it raw. I took my panties out of my purse and held it to his nose. The essence of my womanhood and french vanilla illuminated the air around us. Mixing with the scent of his ebony skin and shea butter. He held me close as he placed the tip between my moist luscious lips. Our bodies rocked to the waves of the music. Orgasms hitting me in ripples. I knew he was close to bursting. The deep hip thrusts. Quickened pace. He became more primal. Growling. I felt his fingertips pierce my skin. I felt him release deeply into my loins. When he pulled out, I turned to face him. Kissed his square jaw. I stuffed my panties in his pocket. As a simple reminder. I came to do what I intended. To get this kitty tamed.

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pikabu-products · 3 years ago

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Why Do Cats Scratch? Find the Best Cat Scratching Post Online- Pikabu

If you own a cat, it is important to pay attention to how it handles restraint from an early age. If you develop a habit of trimming its claws as a kitten, then it will be tolerated as an adult too which will prevent any damages to your home furniture. We recommend you to buy a cat scratching post for your cat where normal scratching behaviours can be safely followed.

Why Do Cats Like to Scratch?

Cats scratch to establish a form of territorial communication and leave visual markings. They have a natural urge to scratch something, and also leave their scent. This happens because of the presence of scent and sweat glands in the middle of the pads of their feet that produce a smell.

When they scratch a surface using their claws, that scent is deposited on it. This provides a message to the other cats. Cats scratch by dragging their front claws in the downward direction on a surface. This action is known as stropping, which removes the outer husk of the cat’s claw revealing their sharp claws.

Scratching also exercises their muscles which helps to keep them in an excellent condition for hunting purposes. To prevent your cat from scratching over your furniture or walls, make a decision to purchase a cat scratching post so that your cat has an acceptable place to scratch.

TOP 5 BEST CAT SCRATCHING POST AVAILABLE ONLINE

It is easier to find pet products online, to choose a variety of cat scratch pads available. Here’s a list of our top cat tree and scratchers:

PaWz Scratching Post Condo Tower House Cat Tree

Indulge your feline friend with our new Cat scratching tree. It allows your cat to stretch their muscles and satisfies their need to scratch anytime. It’s easier for them to bounce from leaf to leaf and let your cat enjoy their new toy. This tree is made from environmental friendly sisal rope which is a safe material for your cat to play and scratch with.

KEY FEATURES:

Eye-catching

Durable sisal rope

Adorable leaf

Hang Toy

Natural and safe

2cm thickness MDF

Safe and Sturdy

SPECIFICATIONS:

Brand: PaWz

Material: MDF+Sisal+Polyester fibre

Dimension: 34cm x 34cm x 83cm

Vetreska Fruity Cat Scratching Board

One of the top 5 picks for cat scratching posts, this board is made of thickened and durable corrugated cardboard that comes with both vertical and horizontal scratching angles, and ample space for your cat to rest, suiting your cat’s needs. It is easy to assemble and durable enough for a large cat upto 8 kgs.

KEY FEATURES:

Environment friendly materials

Durable

Perfect for your cat’s entertainment

SPECIFICATIONS:

Cactus Size: 55x53x31cm

Cherry Size: 45x50x31cm

Weight: 2.5kg

Material: Corrugated paper

Feline Care Scratch Post Design 38

If you’re looking for a simple and sturdy cat scratching post that doesn’t take up much space, this one is a great option for cats of all sizes.

KEY FEATURES:

Multi-level post

Ample play and rest areas

Comfortable plush cover

soft touch and well ventilated

Fully wrapped sisal posts

Hanging pom poms

SPECIFICATIONS:

Dimensions: 60 x 40x 106cm

Honeypot Mountain Type Cat Scratcher

A super compact and curvy cat scratching pad that your cat would love to play with and even sleep on. It’s durability and stability makes it a must buy for a first time cat owner.

SPECIFICATIONS:

Medium - 41 x 41 x 12 Cm

Large - 46 x 46 x 12 Cm

Wood Slide 82cm Cat Tree

It is an absolute wonderland for your cat! This Cat Tree include a host of nooks and crannies for Tom and Tabby to have a lot of fun playing around, hopping or simply scratching. Its a sisal-covered scratching post, both environment friendly and durable.

FEATURES:

Stable wooden construction

Natural sisal posts and soft linen cover

Dual-level design with ample play areas

Napping spots and post with ramp

Portable design

Includes scratching, perching, climbing, sleeping all in one piece

SPECIFICATIONS:

Material: Fir wood, plush cover, and sisal

Height: 82cm

Base dimension: 60cm x 40cm

Source : https://www.pikabu.com.au/blogs/article/why-do-cats-scratch-find-the-best-cat-scratching-post-online-pikabu

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zwei-the-penguin-with-a-pen · 7 years ago

Text

‘The Hot Situation’

Blake and Yang stepped off the ship, finally setting foot on the island of Menagerie. The two of them kept an eye out for Sun, who was supposedly here already. This visit to Blake's parents' place should be interesting and fun, to say the least. Ghira had been constructing a Ninja Warrior type obstacle course in his spare time and wanted Blake to try it out.

He had also invited Sun along since school was not in session, and Sun had taken him up on the offer. Blake's Scroll beeped and lit up. She checked it to find a message from Sun.

"He's chatting up some parrot guy at the Beastly Beans. He said Ilia was there, too. I wonder if Dad would be cool with her coming to work out on his shiny new Ninja Playground."

"Pops would probably be fine with it, Blakey! I mean, he invited Sun, right?" Yang replied as she tied her hair back. She was a smidge overdressed for this heat, but she could change at the Belladonnas' house.

"I think that was more because of Mom... you know, she seems to like Sun a bit more than she probably should." The words stung in Blake's throat. "I think my dad is okay with that... into it, even." She thought she might be sick, but she held herself back.

"Wait, so both your parents have a soft spot for Sun? Or should I say a hard spot?" Yang asked, throwing the joke in for good measure. Blake's eyes went blank at that.

"YANG!" Was all Blake could manage at the moment.

"Sorry, Kitty Cat. You know the jokes never stop!"

"It's okay! I mean, what my folks do is their business, as is with whom they do it. I would hope Dad doesn't want any monkey business, but who knows?" Blake rolled her eyes at Yang, the blonde laughing her head off.

"And you say my jokes are terrible!" Yang retorted.

"Hey, is that a human girl?" Blake heard a random faunus ask.

"Yes, and she's with me! So scram, Fishy Face!" Blake retorted, the amphibian faunus rolling her green eyes.

"My, I didn't know humans could be so cute! We don't see a lot of them around these parts!" The fish girl's friend, a dog faunus with floppy ears, mentioned.

"That's why she's with me! Not for you, Dog Ears!" Blake snapped. The two faunus noticed who they'd been speaking to, gasping at the sight of her.

"You're the Chieftain's daughter! We apologize, ma'am!" The fish girl surrendered, taking a knee.

"Stand up, Fishy Face! No need to bow to a lordling!" The fish girl stood and gave a hand signal of respect. "Gods, you're pretty!"

"Hey, your human is right here, you know!" Yang complained. Fishy Face was certainly a knockout, but did Blake have to say so right in front of her?

"Also, that's my partner, ma'am!" The dog boy with the floppy ears spoke up, sliding his hand into the fish girl's hand.

"You make a lovely couple. Maybe we could go on a double date while Yang and I are in town?" Blake told them, the fish girl grinning from ear to ear. She produced a Scroll and tapped it against Blake's Scroll, and Blake and Yang made their way to the coffeehouse.

Sun and Ilia were seated at a booth talking. Apparently, Sun's bird boy was no longer there. Ilia waved at the two of them. Blake could see stars in the reptile's eyes, probably at the sight of Yang. Yang's muscles usually had that effect on people. Blake sincerely hoped Ilia wouldn't get a nosebleed.

"So, what's this about your Pops building a gym?" Ilia asked as Blake and Yang made it to the table.

"You could probably call it a jungle gym... Huh? Huh?" Yang joked. Blake face-palmed at that remark, though Sun laughed and Ilia chortled.

"It's one of those Ninja Warrior obstacle courses that are all the rage lately," Blake answered. Ilia grinned. "You'd probably outdo all of us, Ilia."

"Not a chance! I'm a monkey, for crying out loud! Swinging through trees is my usual gig!" Sun mentioned. That gave Blake and Yang.

"Perhaps we could make a friendly wager? I'll put 100 Lien on Ilia!" Blake smirked.

"You're on! My money's on Sun!" Yang cheered, fist-bumping her fellow blond.

"If I win, can I also touch your abs, Yang?" Ilia asked, blushing at her own words. Yang smiled and lifted her shirt slightly, her taut abs catching the sunlight that filtered into the coffeehouse.

"You can touch them now if you like, Lizard Lady!"

"Just don't get too handsy, you scaly-faced shrimp..." Blake reminded Ilia. The chameleon girl reached one hand out and dragged it across Yang's incredible abs. Blake thought the girl's soul might leave her body. Hearts formed in Ilia's eyes at the feel of Yang's muscular physique.

"I think that's enough, Ilia. Wouldn't want Blake to hurt you too badly." Yang suggested, and Ilia drew her hand back.

"I wouldn't mind that at all..." Ilia muttered as she sucked in a breath. She covered her mouth and blushed bright red as she realized she'd said that aloud.

"Perhaps we should get going. Pops will be expecting us." Sun mentioned, and the four of them departed the Beastly Beans.

\/\/\/\/\/

"You all made it! And you brought Ilia, too!" Kali exclaimed as she answered the door to see the four of them. She hugged Blake and Yang tightly. "Thank you for bringing the boy along, especially!" Kali whispered into Blake's ear, Blake turning green at the idea. Kali hugged the remaining guests separately, saving a particularly long hug for Sun.

"PSST! BLAKE! I think your mom just grabbed Sun's butt!" Ilia whispered. Blake chuckled.

"Yeah, she seems to have a thing for blonds, too! Must be where I get it!"

"What's your dad gonna say?"

"He gives my mom whatever makes her happy, so if she wants to play Hide the Monkey with Sun, Dad will probably join the game." Blake rolled her eyes.

Ghira appeared and presented his gym to the young Hunters in training. "So, I hear we've got a bit of a bet going! My money's on Yang!" He said as he hugged the girl he claimed as his daughter-in-law.

"I appreciate it, Big Papa, but the bet is between Ilia and Sun," Yang replied, hugging the enormous panther man tightly.

"Oh? Then I'll put my Lien on the Lady Lizard!" He announced, Ilia high-fiving him.

"My money's on the Monkey King!" Kali told them, winking at Sun. He uneasily smiled at her. Blake could see her father laughing.

"I bet it is, Kali..." Ghira nicked, Kali shushing him quickly.

They tossed a coin to see who would begin. It landed on Tails, meaning Sun would start things off! He hopped between the diagonal pads of the first obstacle with ease. Next came a swing that led to a rope net. He launched off the platform and grabbed the swing, swinging on to the rope net flawlessly and climbing down to the next platform.

Next came monkey bars shaped like a staircase. This led to a climbing exercise with a semicircle of pegs and holes. He easily conquered the staircase, and the climbing was a breeze. Finally, he came to a warped wall. He fell short on his first to attempts, but the third time he reached it and climbed up, victorious.

"Time is 3 minutes 59.70 seconds!" Ghira announced. Ilia stood at the starting line, poised and ready. She cleared the entire first obstacle with one precise jump. She hopped onto the swing and over to the net.

"Under a minute! Keep going Ilia!" Blake cheered. Yang scoffed.

Ilia took her time with the stairs, though she raced through the first half of the 'monkey pegs'. The second half, she moved the pegs carefully until she was in the proper range to swing onto the platform. With under two minutes passed, she faced the warped wall. She scaled it on her first try, making her the winner.

"Pay up!" Blake told Yang, the blonde sticking her tongue out as she flipped Blake 100 Lien. Ghira and Kali settled their bet.

"Poor Sun," Kali consoled the golden boy. "Hey, Ghira and I have a consolation prize for you! It's in the house. You three work out to your hearts' content!" She told the girls as she and Ghira led Sun back toward the house. Blake rolled her eyes while Yang and Ilia laughed.

Blake's Scroll beeped. "Mom says don't come into the house until the signal is given. So, ladies, shall we work out?"

"I think I'd rather make out, hon," Yang suggested, forgetting that they had a guest. Blake motioned toward Ilia. "Oh yeah, how rude of me! I forgot we had company!"

"I'm not opposed to Yang's idea..." Ilia smirked, Yang's eyes falling open. Blake scoffed.

"You're actually thinking about it, aren't you?!" Blake snapped. Yang's face fell. Ilia blushed again. "Well, I didn't really say 'No', did I?" She added. Yang grinned, while Ilia's eyes turned to stars. They found a shade tree to crowd under and began their fun time.

"Geez, I should lose bets more often..." Yang mentioned between kisses.

"This is a special case, Glucose. We won't be adding every cutie we see to our mix." Blake rebuked.

"Sure, Honeypot. Still, best hundred Lien I've ever spent!"

Ilia still had stars in her eyes, but she made a sound that said she agreed. Oh, she hoped Blake and Yang visited more often.

\/\/\/\/\/ \/\/\/\/\/ \/\/\/\/\/

Day Seven: A Parent

Naturally it would be the Belladonnas.

At some point I imagined the RWBY characters being on the show Ninja Warrior doing the different courses and junk, so that’s where this began. Then I remembered a fanfic that I read against my better judgment (a smutfest shipping Black Sun and featuring Kali) and the sequel I had in mind that I wouldn’t write because I don’t write smut. Basically Ghira finds out about Sun and Kali and decides to find out what’s so special about the golden monkey. I think it could be funny, at the very least.

Also the Sun/Kali and Sun/Ghira shipping that Volumes 4 and 5 have inspired find a nice middle ground in this pile of garbage I’ve created. Also, I can’t really have Sun get it and leave Ilia out in the cold, so that’s why I included her with the Bees’ business.

I’m sure neither Blake nor Yang would mind...

This is the most shameless fic I’ve written, and I’m not sorry about it. XD

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burgandy-rose-writes · 8 years ago

Note

Can I get ut, uf, and us sans as well as us paps with a SO who is really quiet until you mention their fandom. Then it's 90 to nothing. Their eyes light up and they rant about certain characters, plotlines, designs. Everything. Pls

Comic (UT Sans) loves when you light up like a Gryftmas tree, and although he isn’t quite as interested as you are, watching you rant so passionately about it makes him happy. He likes to listen to you rant when you’re both cuddling on the couch, cause he gets to hold you, be lazy, and make you happy all at the same time. It’s a win-win.

Chief (UF Sans) will watch you ramble from the corner of his eye socket wearing an amused smirk. He thinks you look so adorable when you’re talking about plot lines and the designs you love, he’ll throw his two cents in when it comes to the practicality of it all. Otherwise, he likes to watch you quietly. It’s rare for him to see you this bubbly, this open, and it makes him giddy inside to know that it’s cause you trust him enough to let him in and get excited. Afterwards, he gets super cuddly and will most like nuzzle into you like a satisfied cat.

Sweets (US Sans) always gets super excited when you start to talk about your fandom, asking questions about certain plot points and characters. The way you talk about it so passionately! It makes him really interested in your fandom, and it’s not long before he himself is a fan. Now you’re both always discussing theories together, gushing about your favorite characters, and even making OCs together!

Honeypot (US Papyrus) is a bit surprised the first time it happened, but he ends up silently grinning as you go off on a tangent. He gets this puppy love look on his face, leaning his chin in his hand as he listens to you telling him about the characters design in such painstaking detail. He doesn’t really follow, but he nods in agreement to everything you say.

#undertale imagine #ut sans #uf sans #us sans #us papyrus #undertale #Underfell #underswap #fluff #romantic

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quess-writes · 8 years ago

Text

//Holy crap Enma’s one turned out longer than I expected//

Undercut for length

Tsuna

Tsuna is insecure as he is so when rumours arose that you were, well, essentially cheating on him, he panicked. Hard. You were so handsome and had both males and female admirers . He wanted to talk to you about it but never gathered the courage to. Will you confirm it? He doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle that. Will you deny it? He’d take your word for it but there would always be a lingering green monster whispering in his ear. So against his better judgement Reborn he started to follow you.

First of all, he’s a horrible spy and tapping into his HDWM will light a giant fucking fireball on his head so that plan was a no-go (he has the subtly of a kid on crack). Actually, he stumbled upon you by complete accident. He lost you somewhere in the market area and decided to abort mission for that day - what was he going to do? Stand around like a lost puppy? But as he was heading back, his intuition was nagging at him to go the other way. So naturally he followed.

Through dense forestry and unpaved roads, Tsuna stumbled stumbled an abandoned warehouse of some sorts. Dead trees, debris, broken crates littered the area.

One look and he left - wait? Feet? What are you doing? Turn back around! Why are you going closer to the LITERAL FUNHOUSE OF SERIAL KILLERS???

Upon entering Tsuna will scream. He’s seen some shit from Reborn’s training and the mafia but oh lord, that’s so much blood. And in the middle of it all is a limp man suspended in the air by the hands of some man covered in blood. His body was taunt, fangs sharp with broken sunglasses hooked onto the curve of his shirt as piercing red eyes bore straight into his victim.

Recognizing the scream, you quickly turned your head, dropping the limp body; like a deer in headlights, you froze. “T-Tsuna! It’s not it looks like…?” Great excuse brain.

“What are you…?” Of course he recognized you. You could see Tsuna’s hyper intuition working itself trying to rationalize the situation. “There’s blood on your f-face.“

You stuttered, your mind going into overdrive trying to think of some bullshit way out. Can you use the prank excuse again? No you already used that too many times. Maybe the whole dream thing? Like that’ll work. Shit.

Meanwhile, Tsuna was equally uncomfortable abut the situation as you were. Does this explain your tendency to stay in the shade? He just thought you get hot easily underneath all that clothes. Your preference for late night dates? He’s never dated before so he followed your lead. Wearing sunglasses indoors and circle lens all the time? He just thought you were manly and cool the bodyguards you see in anime. Your inhumane strength? The mafia warped his brain on what was considered and accepted as “normal” - he forgot that normal everyday citizens couldn’t just jump twenty feet in the air. No wonder you ate so little, skipped physical ed. all together and still looked like a fucking model.

“Tsuna…?“ you say, unsure.

He snaps out of his thoughts, straightening up. “Y-Yes?“

You wipe your mouth and throat trying to appear non-threatening as possible - though it made it worse as your clothes were smeared with blood. “I’m not going to hurt anyone.“ His eyes gravitates over the body discarded next to you. “He’s not dead, I swear! A-And I swear I didn’t bring someone from their homes or something!” You could feel your cold, undead body getting colder. “He was out in one of those red light districts drunk off his ass harassing some girls so I stepped in and got him here and I did something that was necessary for me I didn’t beat him up or anything he was just so drunk that when he tried to hit me I dodged and the momentum flew him straight into those crates outside and I brought his unconscious body inside-“

You rambled on, Tsuna’s nerves calming down as he saw the unconscious man’s chest moving and your regular self back in you. Of course you wouldn’t kill someone! Even covered in blood you were still the same cute and slightly awkward mess he fell in love with.

But that still didn’t explain the blood.

“-and well… Oh… that…“ He said that out loud, didn’t he? “I’m. Err…“

Tsuna could hear his heart pounding but his intuition told him to trust you - or at least hear you out. “Please tell me the truth. I know you. You wouldn’t do something like this out of pleasure or sport. So please, tell me the truth.“

You closed your eyes. Could you trust him? No, you could. This was Tsuna, the most kindest humans you’ve ever met. He wasn’t like the others. Like them. “…please promise me you won’t run or attack me or scream or try to kill me. At least not without hearing me out.”

His eyes widened bigger than saucers. Just what were you hiding to say those things? Just what did you go through to say those things? “I promise.“

You took one more breath before confessing, “I’m a vampire.”

Byakuran

When Byakuran was faced with problems, he would consult his parallel selves. But you were the one person he couldn’t extract any information from for various reasons. It gave him a bit of anxiety that the relationship may not work but you proved him wrong on several occasions. That is until the rumours started. Byakuran, surrounded by weird people and being one himself, didn’t notice all your suspicious actions. Well, he did notice but he didn’t particularly care. You weren’t betraying him or attracting unwanted attention so he let you do your thing. It honestly shouldn’t have bothered him, rumours were mostly consisted of false pretenses after all, but what irked him was you. You denied the rummours but gave him some bullshit excuse to as why you left in the middle of the night with a pair of clothes and some needles.

(When Byakuran pointed that out, you could only reply with, “No, I’m not a drug addict calm down. It’s just for a friend’s experiment I’m helping with. We’re testing on honeypot ants and how food colouring changes the honey in their abdomen.”)

So naturally, he followed you out of curiosity. Though his previous selves might have been prone to jealousy, his present self rarely felt envious. He had no reason to be because once you were in a relationship with him, like it or not, you were his. So any other men, or dare he say women, who tried to seduce you were like trying to fight a toddler - not even worth it and so easily... discouraged given the right circumstances.

During another one of your “science experiments” he had followed you to an abandoned house in the middle of scenic nowhere. He was instantly intrigued. There was no way you would try to fuck an unconscious person in a dinky little shack when there were hundreds of love hotels located around you - no matter how paranoid someone was. So either you were a hitman or an unregistered scientist. Either way, he wanted to know what you were doing.

Okay, that wasn’t what he expected.

What he expected was you being from another famiglia or a freelance hitman disposing of a body or something. Not laying them down, checking their vitals, then drawing some blood, testing for negatives, then drinking it. You didn’t even for for their jugular, you just extracted their blood, placed it in a glass, then tended to the bleeding man before sitting down on a nearby couch and drinking it while scrolling through your phone. Well, no one can’t say you weren’t classy.

Byakuran left without another word after confirming all he needed to. “A vampire, perhaps a dhampir, hmmm?” Byakuran hummed happily, “I heard the wendigo were also blood suckers and even in some myths shape-shifters. Considering his human appearance vampire has the highest possibility.” He chuckled, calling Kikyo to cancel all his appointments for the week. “Well, I guess some punishments are in order for that naughty lover of mine.”

It was one thing to hide something, but to hide it from him? Good luck, friend.

Enma

Enma wasn’t exactly the picture-perfect boyfriend or friend in general so when he heard of your “nightly escapades” his reaction shifted back and forth from defeated acceptance to burning white fury (10% himself, 30% you, 60% this “mystery man/woman”). Though his unstable emotions were nothing compared to the absolute rage his family felt.

He didn’t even want to confront you about it - maybe if he lived in ignorance, it’ll all just go away? You were still nice to him at school and everything so maybe the rumours were baseless and from the mill. But it was late one night where he was off feeding one of the stray cats under the bridge he spotted you crossing it… with your arms over some busty woman. Laughing. Joking. Smiling.

His heart shattered into million pieces.

He felt as if every one of his heart strings snapped, and someone set his blood ablaze. His throat was dry, his eyes glossy, and it wasn’t until the warmth of the kitten he was feeding rubbing against him that he snapped out of it. He laughed humourlessly, stroking its chin mechanically. Of course. He should’ve excepted it. You were strong, smart, funny, handsome; comparing him to you was unfair. He left the scene knowing his rage taking over wouldn’t solve anything. It’s wouldn’t take the pain away. It wouldn’t.

Because he still loved you.

The moment he stepped into the house, his family (especially Adelheid) noticed his depressed mood. They tried to cheer him up without bring the situation up knowing it had something to do it you. Enma, ever the introvert, was rarely depressed (shy and anxious maybe but depressed? Never.) so the only person who could’ve made him like this was you. Days passed and the Shimon refused nay and all contact between you and Enma.

You were confused. Why was the Shimon acting like this? Why was Enma avoiding you? Did you do something wrong? Was something going on? With no answers and no one else to turn to, your turned towards the night. You didn’t want to, but at times like this, it felt just like that incident.

(You needed a distraction and what better way for a filthy monster like yourself to do what you do best?)

It was about a week later when Enma saw you again. He was under the bridge feeding the local strays when he heard you talking to someone. Peeking out through the shadow of the bridge, he saw you carrying an unconscious man into a forest? Honestly he could care less what you were doing but he needed confirmation. He had to see you in the act with his own two eyes so he could extinguish any love he still had left for you. So he did.

What he expected was some kinky outdoor voyeur shit. The last thing he would ever think in his mind was you walking into an abandoned building, setting the man down over a small make-shift bed made of wooden boxes and tarps, leaning over his sleeping body, and biting his neck.

Enma just stared in morbid awe and fear as your sharp fangs dug into his flesh, your tongue lapping up the blood like sweet honey. You weren’t exactly the epitome of perfection in this scene but you still managed to look beautiful even with that blood painting your face and staining your shirt. He couldn’t look away. On one hand, he was relieved you weren’t cheating on him so the dread in his heart was gone. But on the other hand, seeing you like this? A completely new dread filled his heart.

You were in the middle of a feeding frenzy. You could smell the sweet nectar of succulent humans every step you took and your primitive desires tempted you to act upon those urges. But you didn’t - at least not in the way you attacked every human you saw. You hunted and targeted drunk humans, people who were alone intoxicated. It wasn’t the most ethical thing to do but for someone like yourself, what could you do? You practically lived in the red light district these days. Enma was your boyfriend and though Tsuna and the others were great, you couldn’t feel the same connection as you did with Enma. But that didn’t matter now, did it? It all started this way. First they would distance themselves from you then they would never return. He was just like them. The same thing happened now as it did last time.

The guilt of feeding masked the pain of loneliness well.

Just stopped right before the man’s blood smelled thin, the pain hitting you harder as the taste of blood left your mouth. Thankfully you smelled another human nearby. This one smelled good, familiar, reminiscent. You wondered how long this one would last.

Enma saw your head detaching from the man’s neck, the man still breathing. He stared at you, the light of the moon lining your form in a pale ethereal glow. Your eyes were crimson - like fresh blood dripping into a rose. Enma would be lying if he didn’t find you incredibly attractive despite the blood (to be fair he’s seen much worse for less).

You just stood there, your desperate tongue savouring every last drop like a parched man deprived of his basic needs given a glass of water. Then you just stopped, twitching. And before Enma could even question you odd behaviour, his vision blurred and his body met the ground.

Enma groaned, opening his eyes to see your panting face. Your eyes were glazed, hands covering his mouth, fangs ready for the incision. He tried to push you off, but your other hand kept his arms in check. Kicking you off was no good as your blood-fueled body was vastly stronger than his noodle limbs. In one last desperate attempt, he called out your name.

It worked.

“E-Enma…?“ you said in disbelief. “What are you-?“ No… Where you about to hurt your own boyfriend!? No. No. No! You sprung away from him like he was scalding water. You hugged yourself, unsure if the action was to protect yourself or protecting him. You knew you were a monster but this? This was too much. All you wanted was to forget, not hurt!

Enma saw your claws dig into your skin, hyperventilating. In the midst of your meltdown, he walked over to you slowly, giving you enough space so you wouldn’t feel threatened but close enough to thwart your escape. He called out your name several times, using the softest voice he could muster, as if he was talking to one of his kittens. "Don’t hurt yourself, I know it was an accident. I’m not hurt. Don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you and I won’t run. Can I come closer? Please? I’m walking over there slowly, okay? I promise I won’t do anything you don’t like. And you can tell me to stop if you feel uncomfortable.” He came closer, and for some reason you listened. “See? I’m here now. Not a single scratch on me - well, besides from the usual anyways - but nothing from you. I’m going to get a little closer, okay? Are you cold? Do you want my jacket? It’s not much but it’s better than nothing. No, actually it’s great because you stitched it up for me remember? It has your gentle handiwork on it.”

Before you knew what happened, Enma’s arms were around you, his warmth encompassing your cold, undead body, and thought your mind told you to leave - to run - your body melted into his embrace.

#khr imagines #khr scenarios #vongola #sawada tsunayoshi #shimon #enma kozato #millefiore #byakuran gesso

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