#dark souls 3 fanfic

[bri-the-nautilus]

DS3 Yuria/Sirris fic. Rated mature for eventual smut.

[ave-rexligni]

The Dark Beneath the Rime [DS3 Fanfiction]

"Thou comest to mock me, then."

"I would never." Lord Yhorm was not actually half as rough-looking as his tone suggested. He was marred from his Linking and old battle-wounds, and he had an icy countenance, but otherwise he was as bold and fine-sculpted as a warrior of Northern legends might be. Too sculpted, perhaps, compared to his fellow giants; the greener half of Sulyvahn found him terribly uncanny, but his human reason was delighted, even smitten. "If anything, I seek your example. Our circumstances are much alike."

"Alike?"

Sulyvahn looked up at him. "I was once among the Forlorn, and of the Painted World, my lord."

Fandom: Dark Souls III Rating: M for violence and psychological torment Pairing: Onesided Sulyvahn/Yhorm, background Yhorm/Siegward Summary: In a dying world, Sulyvahn finds one last fleeting possibility in the Profaned Flame, as well as the one who held it before him.

This is a lengthy piece, projected to be at 8k-10k words per chapter. This one’s for the minor pairing lovers. I hope you enjoy it.

[Read on AO3 - link here.]

[general-luce]

Since it’s complete now, here’s a link to the trilogy, too! 

[warriordragonart]

My interpretation of the Dancer while she was still human. Her hair is inspired by a mixture of Renaissance Italian and ballroom hairstyles and my headcanon for her name is Gwynneth!

[tavs-brainworm]

Got something NASTY cooking for my fellow sub!Ascended Astarion enjoyers, and I'm finally far enough into it that I feel comfy posting a preview. There's no telling when it'll be finished but I'm just frothing at the mouth to share it.

More under the cut (~750 words) for those of you who want to read about two deeply pathetic people having terrible sex. Enjoy.

** Quick note: There's nothing too crazy in this preview (just a little blood and orgasm denial), but keep in mind that the full version will come with a very long list of content warnings, including blurry consent and ptsd flashbacks. Unfortunately my Tav is a bad person and subsequently a bad dom. ** Btw Io rhymes with Leo **

Astarion squirms, pushing against her finger and the warm hand on his hip to communicate his frustration, but Io’s touch remains measured and pianissimo and not enough. Her humming ends in a melodic chuckle.

“I’m not neglecting you, am I, love?”

Astarion huffs and drawls sarcastically, “Oh, don’t mind me, darling. You said this would be your pleasure, remember?”

Another laugh and the finger withdraws from him completely. Astarion grinds his teeth to keep a whine from slipping out.

“And everything that is mine is firstly yours, is it not?” She leans over to pour more oil in her hands, rubbing them together to warm it. “I’m yours to command, always. If this isn’t to your liking then, by all means, turn me over and fuck me however it pleases you.”

Astarion’s teeth grind harder as Io gives the tip of his cock a chaste kiss, and her finger returns to its leisurely massaging of his hole. Her offer is… tempting. It was surely meant as a taunt. Astarion knows that Io would, in fact, be more than happy to play pillow princess for the rest of the night if that was what he wanted from her, and, often, it is.

But that’s not what he wants tonight. Astarion can admit to himself that he’s come to crave this kind of attention from her, and it’s been too long since the last time she offered this.

“You would try to trick me into doing all the work, wouldn’t you, you greedy little thing?”

Io grins toothily up at him, and Astarion thinks he might have told the little devil exactly what she wanted to hear. “Don’t you worry, love,” she says, finally, finally, pressing into him for real, and Astarion lets out a sigh of release. “I know what you need.”

Io pumps her finger in and out of him, slowly, not yet going for his spot. She wraps the fingers of her other hand around his cock, pumping him there, too.

Astarion sighs blissfully, sinking further into the sheets. Io’s touch is skilled and confident, but not like his. Fingers trained to draw sound from string, not bodies, and the working of her hands is rhythmic and deliberate, in and out, up and down. A second finger joins her first inside him, the two of them pumping a steady rhythm and just barely teasing the edge of his prostate, feather light pressure that makes Astarion’s breath come hard and his hands clench into fists around their silk sheets.

A bead of precum dribbles out of him and – Gods, he should’ve asked for this sooner, it’s not like Io has ever told him no – she swipes over it with her thumb, adding his slick to the oil before Astarion can think too hard about how worked up he is over so little.

“Beautiful, just beautiful,” she coos, moving up to kiss him on the mouth. The praise and the thick curtains of her hair fall around him like a pleasant haze, and Astarion wraps a hand gently around her throat to keep her close.

At last, Io drags her fingers hard over his spot and Astarion moans unabashedly into her mouth where she devours it, kissing him so hard that fangs gnash into flesh and they taste the mixing of their blood. Io whines, chasing the taste of him, and Astarion’s grip on her throat tightens in tandem with hers on his cock, and, for a moment, it seems things might be nearing their end mournfully soon as Astarion can’t help but to buck his hips up into her grasp and grind down on her fingers caressing the inside of him, over and over and over, his pleasure bubbling up from his throat and from his cock and it’s so good, Io is so, so perfect, so good for him, so-

The hand on his cock stops. Io clamps firmly around the base of him and withdraws her fingers. The moan halfway out of Astarion’s throat ends reedy and high-pitched as his hips buck against the cruel grasp, chasing a climax now hopelessly out of reach. Frustration keeps his grip tight around Io’s throat, but when Astarion opens his eyes, she looks no worse for wear. She stares at him hungrily, licking the blood smeared on her lips.

[lilacthebooklover]

Shadowvanilla with prompt 35

35. “You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

“You heard me!” Shadow Milk smiles sharply. His voice is playful as ever, but the glint in his eyes is deadly serious. Pure Vanilla listens closely as the mirth in his tone evaporates, that unearthly stare boring into him more intensely than ever before. “Take. It. Off.”

Subconsciously, the healer feels his hand drift towards his Soul Jam. It thrums with power beneath his fingers, simultaneous reassurance and warning pulsating through the azure jewel. It clings to his robes like it knows what will happen if it is removed, and Pure Vanilla finds himself shaking his head before he even realises what he’s doing.

“No,” he says, voice definite. Shadow Milk is capable of putting him through torture beyond comprehension, but Pure Vanilla will not falter. He can’t afford to, not when so much is at stake. He steels his gaze, tightens his grip, and offers a denial that can only be met with fury.

As expected, the world twists and warps around him, the warm, fuzzy edges of his dreamlike prison distorting into a tangle of blackened tendrils, creeping and twisting and grabbing. Pure Vanilla is safe when he’s awake. That doesn’t stop Shadow Milk from trying to convince him to surrender when unconscious. The Dark Side of the Moon is an otherworldly place; in a sense, Pure Vanilla wonders if he ever sleeps at all, anymore. He certainly doesn’t feel rested just then.

“No?” The jester echoes finally, head tilting eerily to the side. Pure Vanilla does his best not to shudder at the anger he feels emanating from Shadow Milk in waves. “Hmm. You know,” His voice dips into something between a purr and a growl, tracing his finger down Pure Vanilla’s jaw. The Beast is a master of deception, and Pure Vanilla knows as much. That doesn’t stop the urge he feels to lean into the first warm touch he’s felt in what feels like centuries. “This would be so much easier if you stopped resisting. So stubborn, Vanilly! I’d be impressed if it wasn’t so infuriating.” 

The grip on his jaw tightens, and Pure Vanilla desperately hopes that determination masks the fear in his eyes as they’re wrenched towards Shadow Milk’s own. He’s too close, Pure Vanilla thinks distantly, sickening anxiety slithering under his skin. The scorching, gentle touch he provides is something the healer both despises and craves, and he hates himself for the latter.

“No matter,” Shadow Milk softens again, stroking against Pure Vanilla’s cheek. He should fight back. He doesn’t. “You’ll come around eventually.” The steady tick of a clock begins to echo in Pure Vanilla’s ears, unnatural and loud and far too damning.

“It’s only a matter of time.”

[canigetacupofteaplease]

So I just started elden ring and??????? Oh my god?????????????? PLEASE HE'S SO HOT

[chronicle-of-torment]

The Warrior and the Dark Mak but it's La La Land

[recursiverabbit]

(Obligatory reminder to myself that I have tumblr...) ANYWAY! I hadn't written a fanfic in years, and I especially had never posted a fic before this one... so of course, my debut had to be a 200k+ word Dark Souls lore retelling (with heavy doses of nkstein angst because of course). And as of today (Nov 3, 2024), A Flame's Consequence (AFC) has come to an end 💙

I've learned a lot while writing this, and there is SO much that I would improve if I were to rewrite this from scratch. Though considering this was my first fic (at least, my first public one), I think it turned out pretty alright :) I'll miss AFC dearly, but I'm also excited to work on new writing projects (both my current WIPs being Soulsborne)! 💙💙

[fearandhatred]

Okay okay okay a word for leanne!!!!!

How about "ripe"? 💛

you're so sick for sending me this word right after i wrote my vore poem lmaoo /affectionate. anyway voodoo magic rapunzel plant, anyone?

<3

it would do you well to be happy. it's what aziraphale hears from crowley's mouth most often, and what he repeats obsessively to himself most days now. it would do you well to be happy. it would do you well to be happy.

if water itself isn't wet, is it possible to not gain happiness from being happy? aziraphale would say so. apparently the act of smiling can trick a human brain into actually being happy, but he isn't human, and it doesn't work on him.

still, it would do him well to be happy. it would do them both well for him to be happy, for now.

the humans have a curious little fairytale: a story of a girl with long, golden, magical hair, borne of a magical flower that can heal. rejuvenate. immortalise. they would be delighted to find that something like that really exists. they would be delighted, and then they would weaponise it, as humans are wont to do.

demons too, as it turns out. not so different from humans, just with the added ability to actually create such a thing.

aziraphale isn't exactly locked in a tower, although this facade of freedom that he has might be worse. whenever he leaves the bookshop, free as he is told he is to do whatever he is told he fancies, crowley tells him it would do you well to be happy. remember what i can do to you.

aziraphale doesn't know exactly what the plant can do, magical-properties wise, and he isn't sure crowley knows either. more specifically, he doesn't know what the plant can do for crowley that he doesn't already have. but it wouldn't do him any good to ask. he's not sure he wants to know.

all he knows, and all he has to, is that his happiness fuels the plant's growth. that one day, crowley had, unsuspectingly, took out a piece of him like god had with adam's rib, and somehow tied his essence to that plant. and so it grows from his happiness. and so he dies if the plant does. and so if the plant grows to its fullest, he... well, it remains to be seen. it's just a little give and take, except it's all parasitic with no benefits.

it started with a seed, then a stem—just one—and a flower. it grew slowly, an inch every few years, and now the flower has bloomed. it isn't over yet, though, crowley told him. that's how he phrased it. not the plant hasn't fully grown, but it isn't over yet.

then, in the middle of the thriving, deceptively sunflower-yellow petals: a fruit. green with immaturity, inedible hardness. it won't always look like this, crowley told him, as if he were really the mother to a young and ignorant daughter, unknowing of how any of the outside world functioned. but they both knew better. i know, he said back, and smiled.

it's uncertainty that's more agonising than anything, even the certainty of agony. the last few days—there is no timeline to the growth of a magical one-of-a-kind plant, but anticipation brews in accordance with the law anyway—buzz with a flat sort of curiosity, morbid on aziraphale's part, or maybe the both of theirs. that depends on how much crowley cares about what happens to him. still, or maybe because of this, he goes about his day as he always does. when he comes back in for the final time each night, he casts a glance over to the plant by the fireplace. he's trained himself to look only once a day, only then, as if the plant is an inconsequential part of his life. each night there's nothing, and he's relieved, and disappointed.

he doesn't sleep, but he does retire, and it's a perfectly normal morning when he leaves his room to the faint aroma of tea awaiting him below. he pads downstairs and sits next to crowley on the couch, where he's slid a cup of tea across the small round table. steaming hot and with a cube of sugar, just how he likes it. when he looks up to murmur his thanks, the look on crowley's face stops him short. it's nothing out of the ordinary, the same golden eyes and face lines, save for the barely-there, malevolent smirk. aziraphale isn't stupid. he looks over at the plant.

and oh, look. the fruit is finally ripe.

[wintrsss]

.ೃ࿐ INTRODUCTION

this is a redo my rules/ intro, so if this seems similar, that's why. lots has changed so feel free to reread. ^^

Helloo, I’m wintrsss, and welcome to my blog! I’ll be writing my own little ideas/scenarios for the character’s below, but if you’d like to personally request something, go ahead and request it through my ask box! (Requests are also really appreciated.)

Constructive criticism is much obliged! Let me know if there’s anything I can improve on and I’ll try my hardest to do so!

If at any time something I make contains spoilers, I will try to mark it as such.

I tend to get busy for random periods of time, so please understand.

.ೃ࿐ REQUEST GUIDELINES

what's stated below can be subject to change. if you have any questions, let me know!

(TMTL: too many to list. I'll probably accept most characters requested, if it's not an absurd amount, but don't be surprised if I don't write for someone!)

(Inc. dlc: includes characters in the DLC(s) of the game. Npc's, bosses, etc)

(+: this means that the person mentioned before and after this sign go hand in hand; character x reader x character)

I CURRENTLY WRITE FOR— death stranding (sam p. bridges, higgs monaghan, cliff unger), dark souls 1-3 (TMTL, Inc. dlc), elden ring (TMTL, Inc. dlc), bloodborne (TMTL, Inc. dlc), lies of p (pinocchio, alidoro, romeo), demons souls (ostrava, yurt, garl vinland + maiden astraea), sekiro: shadows die twice (wolf, genichiro, isshin, emma, owl), witch hat atelier (qifrey, olruggio, easthies, beldaruit, utowin, hieheart)

I WILL ACCEPT— headcanons, fluff, yandere, poly.

I WONT ACCEPT— character x character, character x oc, minor x adult, full-on fics, mental illnesses/ disorders towards the reader (I don’t have much knowledge on this topic and don’t want to write them wrong and offend anyone!), any vague requests like (can you do [character] x reader hcs?) so please be specific on what you want!

.ೃ࿐ MASTERLISTS

—death stranding

[supersizedpole]

The Memories of Ash Chapter 1: The Rise

I awoke in a dark place, lying on my back. Extending my arm I felt stone, it was surrounding me. Panicking I tried to lift it and after a moment persistency I manager to push it to the side. The light blinded me. After regaining my sight I arose. What I witnessed was a dark graveyard and I myself, were standing in a grave.

Stepping out of it I stumbled a little. Quite an obvious thing after lying for who knows how long, that I would lack strength. I heard the clink of metal, now realizing that I was wearing armour and sporting a sword by my waist. Suddenly, a man clad in black cloth was approaching me while mumbling something. He was holding a shattered sword. His intention was most likely to put me back in the grave. I unsheated my sword and as if by insting grabbed a shield from my back, of which I was unaware. Before he had the chance to even take a swing I slashed at him and his corpse fell to the ground. Walking past his lifeless body, more emerged. They looked exactly as the one laying behind me, down to their weapon of choice. I saw another glimmer of light behind them, probably the exit to this place. Walking in it’s direction, I too the life of any that dared to approach me. With every swing, push and pull my limbs limbered little by little. After a moment I felt a weak wind, which gifted me with fresh air, devoid of the smell of various remains. My eyes closed, as if to allow me to better smell the air. After for what felt like the most pleasant moments of my life, I slowly opened my eyes and realized that I was standing by cliff’s face. Looking around, there was a way along it to the left. Following it, I found myself at a slightly more open area and unlike before, there was a slight hint of green in the scenery. But the most peculiar thing was a sword, sticking up from a pile of ashes. It was emanating a warm, orange glow where the blade made contact with the remains of a fire. Moving closer, my hand moved by itself and touched the handle of the weapon. The glow became a burst of fire and the ashes looked as if there still were embers in the previously gray pile. Something compelled me to sit down by it. And so I did. The moment I touched the ground, I felt my strenght return to my body and any wounds that I may have had, disappeared.

During this moment of respite I tried to understand what happened and if I could remember anything from before awakening in a grave. Nothing. I didn’t remember anything nor did I have an inkling of what was happening now.

Seeing as there was no point in trying to understand anything at this point, I decided to move forward.

The way split off into two, left and right. To the left was a drop, maybe 3 meters high, below which was an open coffin made of stone and what I presumed to be it’s owner hanging halfway out of it. Next to it was another of those creatures from before, it’s back turned to the corpse. There was a passage where it was looking, but before dropping down I wanted to see what the right side had to offer. Going back to the split in the „road”, the other way instead offered a walk down, then another split. I went right. At the second crossroad, to the right was a drop into a very deep chasm covered by mist. To the left I could see a relatively open area and another way leading to it. Assuming that the second passage was the one I saw before, after the drop, I started moving onwards. Reaching the edge of this once again green place, I saw a giant coliseum, it was made a dark stone, it’s entrance coverd in thick fog, which covered only it. Looking back, it was unlikely to find anything else in this place. With anxiety, I passed through this wall of fog.

After emerging from this passage, I found myself at an old, crumbling arena. To my left were seats, elevated on a wall of this stage. To my right was a hole, both in the wall as well as the floor. Looks like it crumbled from the sheer age of this place. In front of me, in the middle was a man at least twice my size, kneeling. He was clad in dark armor. From his waist hanged a black skirt, yet his sides were protected by twin metal plates. The protective metal was greatly ornated while the helmet resembled a man wearing a crown. A giant sword resembling the one in the bonfire was sticking out of his chest. Beside the figure was an axe or maybe a halbard stuck blade first in the ground. After making this observation, I felt compelled to touch the sword, lodged in the man’s chest. After approaching, I grabbed the hilt. After a moment, as if subconsciously, I pulled it out in one, swift motion. Due to it’s suprising weight, the weapon fell tip first to the hard, stone ground, making a metallic clink. After a few seconds, the knight twitched. Suprised by the sudden movement I dropped the blade and unsheathed my own, preparing for the worst. The creature grabbed his weapon with his right hand and with the help of his left he arose. This steel clad figure would strike fear into damn near anyone.

It lifted the weapon above it’s head. I panicked. My body refused to move. He swung it down right on me. Only as the blade was inches from my face, did I jump to the side. After this near death I regained my composure slightly. The moment I looked up to face the knight, he was already preparing to unleash a horizontal slash. Once again a last moment reaction saved my head from becoming separate from my shoulders. After managing to escape death once again, I managed to create some distance between us by hopping backwards. Looking at this towering figure not up close, but from a few meters I realized. It’s kill or be killed. Swallowing my fear I charge at the knight. In response he tried to pierce me with his halbard, but I managed to barely avoid it by stepping slightly to the side. I got close enough. Putting all my strength into this attack, I slashed at him from below, hoping to at least hit his chest. I somehow managed to cut through the thick steel, alas this small moment of satisfaction and suprise did not last long. I felt my body being pierced in multiple places. Looking up I saw a giant canine mouth equipped with at least a dozen pairs of sharp teeth. The maw itself was black and possesed blood red eyes. The light started fading from my eyes and the cold feeling of dying was making it’s presence. After what felt like minutes I closed my eyes, no longer being able to hold on to life. I was surrounded by darkness, but a small glint of warm, orange light caught my eye. It was growing larger and larger until it swallowed the darkness. Opening my eyes, I found myself by the bonfire.

[general-luce]

It’s fucking over and I’m sobbing like a bitch because I finished the dark souls trilogy fanfic and oh my god I am in so much pain.

I mean I’m happy but jesus fucking christ 

ow

[warriordragonart]

A collection of my Ashen One (Lia) for the soul. Areas left to right:

1: Undead Settlement (Meeting Yoel)

2: High Wall of Lothric (Raising the banner)

3: Ariandel (~spoilers~)

4: Smouldering Lake (Campsite relaxation)

[kobadashi]

Updating my commissions!

My commissions are open! $5 per 1k words! I mostly do NSFW. Some chapters are available on my profile, but most of my stuff is on AO3!

I’ll write for fandoms like JJBA, CSM, JJK, Demon Slayer, Dark Souls, What We Do in the Shadows, Elden Ring, Ancient Magus’ Bride, RWBY, Transformers, Attack on Titan, Fire Punch, Legend of Zelda, Resident Evil 4, Mortal Kombat, Goodnight Punpun, Tokyo Revengers, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, Soul Eater, Junji Ito, and non-fandom stuff, just no real people!

I’m open to write lots of things, but naturally, there are things I won’t write. I’ll listt those here!

I won’t write minors or animals in sexual situations. I also won’t write ageplay, bodily gas, or weight gain/feederism.

my own likes are pretty strange, don’t be afraid if you think your idea is too weird! I’ll never be mean, I’ll likely write it, but if not, I’ll politely tell you it’s not for me :3

Here’s my AO3 link where you can view nearly everything I’ve written!