mm-nani-fics

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they’re brothers but bison is an only child they’re brothers but fadel has no family to mourn him they’re brothers but they’re alone; afraid of being left behind or forgotten fadel digging his own grave and wondering if bison would cry for him now that he’s met kant bison hesitating to leave fadel behind without finding him a partner first what a bitter forced love made sweet with the hard earned victories of survival the abject horror of only having each other becoming the twisted romance of at least we have each other no one will eat my brain quite as much as fadel and bison I live in this moment forever

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No, please don't teach him the difference between those two. uu have done enough of ruining his innocence, Payu 🙂.

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[THK Island Polycule; R]

Summary: Style and Bison hatch a plan. A very sexy one.

Kant is hardly surprised when Bison jumps into his arms the second they make it inside, pulling him into a kiss, mouths open and tongues tangled. Bison has been horny all night, making some risque choices during dinner in terms of his hand placement, fingers curling into Kant’s inner thigh at every opportunity, getting little pecks from Kant here and there between bites of food and conversation. If anything, the real surprise was how Fadel hadn’t snapped at them the way he usually does when Bison gets carried away with his PDA.

They hit some type of wall, there’s a loud clatter as Bison’s elbow crashes against a lamp, the shock of the sound swiftly bringing the mood to somewhere more serious. They blink at each other for a bit and all at once start laughing, Bison pulls him in like that, stealing the laughter from his lips in small, sweet pecks as they both sober up from their fits.

“Are you trying to get caught?” Kant manages to say between kisses and giggles, only just catching his breath before Bison’s answer sends him into another peal of laughter, “Please, they’re talking a walk on the beach,” Bison adds a little suggestive wiggle of his brows when he says the word ‘walk’, “Just you wait, we’ll end up catching them.” Bison is all smiles and crescent eyes, his joy turned to full volume as he pulls Kant back in. 

They tumble through a door, Bison insistently trying to push Kant’s shirt off his shoulders, while also trying to unzip his own pants. He helps lift Bison so he’s now perched on a table, feels up a nice handful of Bison’s pert bum as he does so. Bison pulls him between his legs, his touches growing desperate and kisses desperate. Just as he’s sure he’s going to fuck Bison right on this random table the door suddenly bursts open and there’s a loud scramble.

Kant startles, immediately detaching himself from Bison to look behind him at the commotion.

“Shit,” Style says, “Don’t let us interrupt.” Fadel is behind him, looking exceptionally grouchy, but the effect is lost a little from the way his hair is ruffled and the flush on his cheeks. Bison’s arms wrap around his waist as he slithers back into Kant’s arms, “You don’t have to be.” He responds.

Kant doesn’t know what’s happening, but somehow that makes Style, tugging on a baffled Fadel, actually enter the room instead of leaving it. He’s suddenly bereft of Bison again, now watching his boyfriend softly pad up to his best friend. Bison stops in front of Style, from where he’s standing he can only see the back of Bison’s head. But he knows what Bison looks like in this moment, knows from the way that Style is staring at him; all fuck me eyes and parted, panting lips. Then he watches Bison bring one hand up to slowly curl into the hairs on Style’s temple and - well - Kant’s one solace is that he’s caught up to their schemes slightly quicker than Fadel.

“Bison.” Fadel’s voice rings out in a warning, one Kant knows that Bison is adept at ignoring. Bison’s hand trails down to rub at the redness at the tips of Style’s ear, before he threads his fingers into Style's hair in earnest. When Fadel marches forward, it’s Style that stops him, with a hand against his chest, “Just-give it a chance first?” 

Kant is surprised to find Fadel sharply turn the intensity of his gaze towards him, he raises his eyebrows and shakes his head a little to gesture that this is all Style and Bison’s genius. He’s not sure he should be flirting with Fadel but he does take his shirt off, already hanging limply off one arm thanks to Bison and places it gently on the table, which he only now realizes is Fadel’s from the immaculately stacked books and well used calendar that he and Bison have thrown askew with their previous enthusiasm.

They’re in Style and Fadel’s room, how had he missed that?

Note: As always redirect all anon hate to @kattyangel this exists because they're sending me to horny jail on discord LOL

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Why penguins? It’s just cute. I saw a documentary on them. They’re adorable but can be pretty vicious. Sounds like you.

THE HEART KILLERS | EP8

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I'm not even sure who is manipulating who here

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I've been supremely struggling to finish anything and then I realized oh boy oh boy did I make a Tumblr sideblog for just such an occasion! First and Khaotung have truly got me by the throat!! Here's a little kantbison drabble about their kiss on the beachfront:

[Kantbison; PG]

You’re not fooling me again, are you? 

The way Bison crumbles strikes through his heart. He’s never thought of his ruse like that; as holding a power that could fell the most dangerous man he has ever met. The whole time, it felt like the power was anywhere but in his own hands, tied together in a noose around his own neck. 

But here he is, wrists stinging from escaping the ropes binding him and the man who put them there curling in on himself, too afraid to jump into the open arms aching from wanting him there. 

No, I’m not.

Bison cries harder. And Kant in this moment, truly can’t fathom the choices he’s made to get here. Bison was right, Kant did love him, so how could he fool him? How could he have ignored the way it stung thinking of Bison being in trouble, thinking of Bison suffering; and then avoiding altogether the way his ears thundered and brain shut down when those things were to be caused by him.

How could the ravaged feeling of seeing Bison fight for his life on that hospital bed, feel like a familiar fear and still catch him so completely by surprise?

There are answers Kant doesn’t have for himself, the way he’d ignored the shifting weight of his own desire, but here, now surrounded by the cacophony of the sea and the wind beating around them, the beating of his heart has never been clearer. 

He pulls Bison in, stripped of power and deceit, naked for the first time and drinks in the sweet and gentle taste taste of his lips, a taste he’d drink poison for he decides; he knows now. 

[mm-nani-fics]

[ZNN+Joss pre-3some; WIP is PG]

Note: this was written several years ago when Joss did a special appearance at a DMD concert.

It’s not the lights in his apartment that alarm him. New had already texted that he was on his way with dinner. It has become a common occurrence by now, New bringing over homemade meals cooked by his family because Zee lived alone and had a packed schedule. In fact, it happens often enough that Zee has shown him where the spare key is hidden. 

It’s not even that there are voices that carry over into the hallway as Zee fumbles with the lock on his door. New knows how to make himself comfortable in his home.

It’s because he knows that voice. He knows both those voices, but New’s isn’t surprising. No, it’s the other one, a low and deep sound that vibrates slowly through the air, it sounds like-

‘What are you doing here?’ Zee asks upon entering his living room, dropping his bag onto the floor with a dull thud. 

Joss is there reclining on the couch, his hands casually flung over the back with New next to him. Joss looks devastatingly handsome with the effortless windswept way his hair is styled - that Zee knows takes a lot of effort - and the simple white tee that shows off how his biceps bulge. Joss smiles his wide-toothed smile that makes him look like a big goof and renders anyone at the receiving end defenseless - New’s eyes are certainly sparkling - but it prickles at the back of Zee’s neck, ‘Yo~~Not even a hello for your friend?’

Zee relaxes his stance a little, shoulders dropping. He feels guilty about having all but abandoned his friends. He knows they feel his absence, often having to tag him directly in the chat to get his attention. They’re nice about it. Of course they are since they get it with so many of them in the same profession. But there has been a healthy amount of Zee roasting in the group chat. Joss though, he could never quite be sure about. Zee doesn’t think they’ve talked much since Joss decided to move on. He assumed Joss would get how Zee always has to work, is always traveling and how even when he isn’t, there’s always-

New is beaming at him, ‘Welcome home, Hia, I let P’Joss in.’ He is sitting much too close to Joss for comfort. If he leaned back Joss’ arm would fall across his shoulders. The easy smile on Joss’s face makes him think that Joss is waiting for that, for New to let down his defenses . Zee can tell Joss likes New, and that text about how he wants to work with New was one of the few exchanges they’ve had in the past months. This memory suddenly fills him with doubt, is it really a coincidence that Joss happens to be here the same night as New?

‘Yeah, Phi,’ Joss says sitting up straight, the arm on the back of the couch has now alarmingly disappeared somewhere behind New. ‘Nong New let me in.’ Zee rolls his eyes at the suggestive tone. But at least now he’s sure that he was right. Joss has that look on his face, like he’s up to something and it's never anything good.

‘You should have told me you were coming.’ Zee says and plops down onto the armchair opposite the sofa. He thinks it’s quite gracious of him not to have said ‘get out’. There’s still time he thinks, as Joss leans in just a little bit towards New. There’s still time to kick him out.

Joss scrunches up his face in confusion, it makes him look irritatingly cute, ‘I thought Max texted you this morning.’ 

‘You’re my surprise?’ Zee asks, remembering how Max had indeed sent him a cryptic text. Zee had seen it before he’d had a chance to drink coffee and then promptly forgot about it.

‘Not quite.’ Joss answers, he turns to smile at New - Zee doesn’t love how New’s smile broadens in response -  before turning back to look at Zee, ‘But I have it with me.’

‘Okay then,’ Zee shoots his arm out, palm facing upward, ‘Give it to me.’ He might be rushing and he doesn’t really dissect the urgency he’s feeling. He just knows that he needs to get this over with soon. Joss' nose twitches like he’s suppressing a smile, ‘Hold on,’ he says, taking Zee’s hand and closing it into a fist, ‘Nong New brought us dinner.’

‘Nong New brought me dinner.’ Zee corrects but New, having grown up with excellent manners , interjects immediately, ‘ah~it’s okay Hia! There’s enough for everyone.’ Zee loves New, more than he should, more than he was meant to but sometimes he feels exasperated at how naive he can be. New doesn’t know Joss, because if he knew him he’d notice how Joss was looking at him like he’d rather eat New than dinner.

‘Nuna, help me set the table.’ It comes out more commanding than he had meant but it gets New up to his feet and away from Joss. ‘I want to help!’ Joss says, making to follow, but Zee stops him with a hand on his shoulder and the sweetest smile he can manage. It still feels like a grimace, if Joss’s amused smile is anything to go by it probably looks like one too, ‘Please remain seated, how can I make a guest work?’

Zee lets him go when Joss leans back against the couch once more. He waits until Zee is nearly in the kitchen before saying loud enough for New to hear, ‘and Nong New isn’t a guest?’

Zee grabs the nearest pillow and throws it at his face.

*

They find themselves in the living room after dinner. Or rather, Zee finds himself still unable to rid his house of unwanted pests while New scrolls through movie titles on Netflix, ‘ah, at least tell me what type of movie you guys want to watch.’ He finally says, lips pursed into a pout.

Said unwanted pest has once more weaseled himself onto the couch with New, leaving Zee to sulk on the armchair. At New’s words Joss - needlessly - draws closer to give him suggestions. Zee throws one leg over the armrest and leans back so he can keep an eye on Joss from his periphery. 

Joss was insufferably handsy with New during dinner. But, just like now, it was all very G-rated. But Zee can tell that there is intent behind every brush on the shoulder or light tap to New’s hand, the way Joss was trying to keep New’s attention all to himself. 

Even now with something so simple as picking a movie, Zee is alarmingly bothered at New’s closeness with Joss. He sorely wishes that there was a camera in his face and a staff member beaming at him to create a sweet moment with New so he could pull New’s chair closer towards him and away from Joss, object at their closeness without coming off as a psycho.\

‘Hia? Is action okay?’ New’s question brings him out of his thoughts.

‘Huh? Yeah-yes whatever you want.’ Zee says, face instantly losing all signs of tension, voice soft. Joss raises an eyebrow at him and Zee furrows his own in return.

‘Aow,’ New whines unhappily, looking between them, ‘this is too much pressure.’

‘Nong New.’ Joss says with the most annoying drawl Zee has ever heard from him - did he always sound like this? - and reaches for the remote in New’s hand, ‘if you can’t decide on a movie, would you like to continue hearing embarrassing stories about Zee’s early days?’

New’s delight at the offer is palpable as he grins widely at Joss, nodding enthusiastically. The way New’s eyes sparkle as he looks at Joss, makes Zee tighten his. He’s looked at Joss like that all evening, easily duped into Joss’ charm. But Joss has treacherous intent. Zee knows this, Zee knows him, knows what he’s like, knows that he can’t be given the responsibility of holding New’s heart.

He doesn’t want to interfere, doesn’t want to try to control New. New should have the experiences he wants and if he wants Joss, then…

Still it wouldn’t hurt to warn him later. In fact, that’s the right thing to do. He would do that for any of his friends, warn them if their potential love interest was sketchy. Joss was a great friend but Zee wouldn’t wish Joss as a boyfriend on his worst enemy. Much less New, his-his-person. He’s been given the responsibility of looking after New from his parents after all, he owes it to them to warn New.

Zee is suddenly aware that New is looking at him, his eyes are only slightly widened with surprise but he seems to be measuring him with intent. Zee tunes back into the conversation in time for Joss to say, ‘But getting hammered and working the pole wasn’t even the wildest thing he’d done that night.’

New turns back to look at Joss, mouth open in a little ‘o’.

Joss leans in as he says this, his fingers sliding along the couch, stopping mere inches from New’s thigh, ‘‘Nong New, do you want to know what we did when we returned to the hotel?’

‘Joss.’ Zee warns, voice low and measured. But New is rapt in attention, he leans in too until the tips of Josh’s fingers brush against his thigh.

‘What? Are you embarrassed, Phi? If you don’t want to hear it then should I whisper it in Nong’s ear?’ Joss smirks at Zee, and New - that beautiful naive idiot - actually inclines his head towards Joss. Zee’s face tightens even more and Joss looks straight as he answers, ‘we watched porn together and jerked each other off.’

New lets out the breath he was holding, surprise crossing his face for a split second before he looks between the two of them, ‘oh! Then you two-’

‘No! It’s not like you think.’ Zee says as soon as he recognizes the look of suspicion on New’s face, ‘No-not anymore. It was a long time ago,’ he adds, unable to keep anything from New. New nods, still looking a little unconvinced. Zee wants to reassure him again, smooth away the frown between his eyes.

‘Say, Nong New, aren't you curious? Aren’t you curious about what kind of porn Zee gets off to?’

Death glares are no longer enough, Joss ignores them anyhow, he needs to drag Joss out the door by his coll-

‘I’m curious.’ New’s voice cuts across his rage. New is looking down at his toes, wiggling them a little, cheeks flushed. 

‘See, Phi? He’s curious.’ Joss says, voice filled with mirth as he leaves New’s side to grab his bag. Zee instinctively wants to fill that space, rush to New’s side. But for the first time, Zee doesn’t know what to say to him, how to comfort him or even how to hold him. Zee can see that he’s tense and is hoping for a glimpse of his face, any sign that it’s okay for Zee to touch him. 

But New doesn’t raise his head the entire time that Joss is fiddling with the TV.

‘What? Do you just know how to work my TV?’ Joss smiles at Zee’s words as he connects his laptop to Zee’s TV but doesn’t answer, doesn’t even look at him. Zee is getting pretty sick of being ignored in his own home.

‘Done. You have alcohol, Phi?’ Zee glares at him and Joss smiles back sheepishly, ‘helps cut through the awkwardness.’

‘New, can you please grab us a few beers from the fridge,’ Zee asks, as he’s staring Joss down. As soon as New’s back disappears into the kitchen. Zee is up, grabs Joss by the front of his shirt, ‘what are you playing at asshole?’

‘Who says I’m playing at anything.’

Zee’s fingers tighten in Joss’s shirt until his knuckles turn white, ‘you can’t take him home. He’s not allowed.’

‘Oh?’ Joss says, raising his eyebrows, a shit eating grin on his face. Zee doesn’t know how he manages to not punch him. He lets go before he changes his mind, putting some distance between them, ‘by his parents. He’s not allowed to stay out overnight.’

‘Unless it’s here?’ Zee’s eyes shoot up to Joss’s face, an open challenge, ‘yes.’ He says without remorse and doesn’t back down when Joss approaches him. He doesn’t know what he expected from Joss, but it’s not the gentle way that Joss takes his hand that is balled into a fist at his side. He coaxes it open so he can lace their fingers together, ‘Zee, I’m your friend.’ He says and it's soft, almost pleading and suddenly Zee feels chastised, ‘Trust me?’ He asks and Zee measures him closely for one more moment before he relaxes, nodding.

New clears his throat, three beer bottles pressed to his chest, the condensation soaking through his shirt. Zee lets go of Joss’s hand, flinging it away quickly. New is looking at him like that again, like he’s unsure of who he’s looking at. Zee hates that expression, hates that it feels like he’s done something wrong, hates how it implies that New doesn’t know who Zee is. 

He can’t help but resent Joss in this moment, even as he raises the bottle Joss hands him in cheers and chugs it. 

‘Woah,’ Joss says, ‘rough day, Phi?’ Zee just sighs and sits back down on the armchair, he’s accepted that this is his designated seat for the night. What would be the point in stealing Joss’s seat next to New anyhow? Joss would have just squeezed into the couch with them. And then where would he be? With New pressed to Joss’ side while watching porn.

‘I need to be drunk if I’m going to participate in a circle jerk at the age of twenty-nine.’

‘You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Phi.’ Even as he says this, Joss comes to him and takes his hand, pulling him up to guide him to the couch, ‘Come,’ he says gently, ‘Sit closer to us.’

*

‘It’s very romantic,’ New comments. It’s been twenty minutes and the two men on screen were still kissing and grinding by the pool in some ridiculously posh looking townhouse. Zee ended up on the floor, back pressed to the couch, where New and Joss sat on either side of him. He could feel them pressing against his shoulders 

‘Are you surprised? It’s Zee.’

‘No.’ New responds without pause. If Zee would dare to look at his face, he’d find it etched with fondness.

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[ZNN Drabble Dump; G]

Shooting Star:

New never really knows what to wish upon a shooting star, feels foolish almost when his mother points one out enthusiastically, closing her eyes and outlining her wish with her lips. He always ends up asking for something generic like, ‘I hope everyone stays healthy’ or ‘I wish to be happy,’ and feels content at the wonderful life he lives. And even though New might not know exactly what to wish upon a shooting star – sometimes when he looks at Zee making silly faces next to him, he thinks he knows what it’s like for his wishes to come true.

Home:

Zee has always had a very strong sense of home. The place he grew up in and the people he grew up with. He knows its home because facetiming his mom and watching her bicker with his sister feels something akin to putting a mirror up to his heart. Home is within when it’s another night long drive cramped in a van to a location shoot and he thinks of his dad tucking him into bed with a bedtime story. Cooking and board games, arguments over the TV remote, the soft feeling of New’s hair against his jaw when he tucks his face into Zee’s chest.

Hug:

New is often asked how they encourage each other. The answer is easy, he feels it every time his body rests against Zee, and every worry he has ever had melts away from the dark crevices of his body, how he feels that light as warmth that relaxes his muscles, how the sound of Zee’s heartbeat steady against him is the rhythm to which he calibrates racing heart. The answer is simple: ‘We hug each other.’

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the boxers and the picture of half-naked first and oddly sensual shots of khaotung, joong really had one goal and somehow he pulled off initiating a ambiguously erotic trip on a boat

receiving not one but TWO asks about FK fucking Joong on that boat while writing a fic about FK fucking Joong on that boat as a fill to this ask is the kind of clown on clown violence i live for.

10/10 experience no notes you have no idea how ecstatic i am that this is my brand

Don't worry anon Joong and Khaotung would never leave First out.

My tumblr post from ask #2 Twitter post from ask #3

[JoongFirstKhao; R]

“P’Fir.” 

There’s a tiny whine from the door, followed by an insistent hand wrapping around his naked waist. First is trying really hard not to roll his eyes that Joong is acting like he can’t go without First for the five minutes it would take for him to change the shirt that Khaotung spilled beer all over.

“Let me help you na, P’Fir.” Joong says one cheek against his shoulder, looking up at him with puppy eyes. First is immune from overexposure to Joong’s mentor’s puppy eyes, but he does pull the shirt off quickly and efficiently reaches for the sleep shirt he can see inside his bag. Joong stops him from putting it on. First opens his mouth to complain about mixed signals but then Joong has a towel pressed to his chest, “You’re all sticky from the beer. It’ll stain the new shirt too.”

First knows he’s being seduced and finds the sincere way that Joong wipes at his chest to be an amusing, though highly effective, choice. The door to the little cabin opens and there’s a heavy voiced, “Fir, where are you?” followed by quiet shuffling and an even quieter little, “Joong?” Khaotung attaches himself as a small weight to First’s back. This time First does roll his eyes and shares a silent chuckle with Joong when Khaotung’s muffled voice, well past tipsy, sounds into his back, “Where did you guys go? I missed you so much.” 

First is nice enough to not point out how the minute hand on the wall clock has moved exactly three ticks between the giant five and ten on the clock’s face since he first walked into the room. Not that it matters with the way Khaotung is palming his crotch. Joong waits for First to acknowledge that it’s happening before he sits on the bed and puts his put to First’s sticky skin. 

First is rather used to this by now, stuck between Khaotung and Joong, beholden to their mercy. Khaotung’s hands move up to rub his belly and Joong kisses the trail of Khaotung’s hands. Khaotung eventually pauses so he can slide a hand up Joong’s jaw, caressing gently and First thinks the way that Joong immediately nuzzles into it is so adorable.

Khaotung is right, he really is such a good boy. Joong keeps following the trail Khaotung’s hand makes on First’s body, nibbling on his nipples to mimic the sharp scratch of Khaotung’s fingers across his sensitive him. Khaotung holds him more firmly from behind, as First’s knees buckle a little when Joong and Khaotung both slip a hand into his boxers. 

They start kissing over First’s shoulders, and he wonders if its rude to interrupt them to demand they do something a little more substantial than tease his heated skin and gently play with his balls inside his pants. First pushes his own waistband down to give them a little encouragement to get the show going and Joong doesn’t miss a beat in moving from Khaotung’s lips to First’s while he helps him take his pants off. 

Khaotung too seems to have decided that this is about First after all and kisses his neck as he follows, moving together when Joong lounges back on the bed, gently pulling First on top. First hears the thud of his bag hit the floor, along with the suspicious clattering of its spilling contents. But Joong prevents him from looking with a hand on his jaw, while, no doubt, Khaotung is busy stashing the mess under the bed and away from First’s eyes.

One thing about First is that he will stop an orgy to clean up. No one wants to do it afterwards.

Joong wraps his legs around First’s waist quickly, licks up into his mouth. The delicious friction of their hard-ons rubbing together and the slide of their lips sending little sparks down First’s spine is enough to distract him from the dread of chores.

The bed isn’t big enough for all three of them, there’s a bump on the back of Joong’s head from their afternoon attempt to prove it but Khaotung always has a plan, pulling First up to sit between his legs, back to chest. First’s heated skin hits against the soft cotton of Khaotung’s shirt and First feels this clawing ache at being deprived from feeling the heat of Khaotung’s skin directly. 

Joong settles between their legs, lasciviously rubbing First’s naked thigh and First has one moment of clarity to realize hat Joong is fully clothed too before Joong wraps his lips around First’s cock. Khaotung holds him, drinks the moans from his mouth while his fingers press lightly but possessively into his porcelain throat. Joong knows his way around a dick, but more importantly he knows his way around First’s dick, licking insistently down the zigzag of a vein before sucking at the slit of his tip until First is ready to explode.

Khaotung, intimately familiar with the sounds of First’s impending orgasm, grips at his balls a little too tight to be entirely pleasurable but brings First back from the edge long enough for Joong to deepthroat him. First comes from the shock of Joong’s throat squeezing at the head of his penis. Joong retracts swiftly at the salty taste bursting on his tongue, catching the last droplets with his chin and lips. 

First’s spent dick makes a valiant attempt at springing back to life when Joong’s face, momentarily dazed from First’s orgasm splattered across it, suddenly breaks out into a self satisfied grin. He closes his eyes when he realizes that Joong is hovering over his shoulder so Khaotung can lick his face clean. 

First is done, he thinks. If they wanted him to be on dick sucking duty they wouldn’t have insisted on doing this here where there’s only enough space for his limbs to unfurl about 70% of the way. As if to prove his point, Joong steps off the bed and there’s a yelp as he trips and falls, First’s deo rolling comically slow until it comes to a stop next to him.

“Oops.” Khaotung says from behind him.

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Fic milestone! 100 bookmarks for whispered secrets 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

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Guess what besties I just posted the Sandray Relationship Timeline from my Sandray (Not) Divorce Fic "Can You Blow My Mind" along with two brand new scenes

Have fun <3

[mm-nani-fics]

the more I marinate at ur page, the more this fadelbison mpreg fic you speak of, sounds appeasing. Do it.

man fadel and bison are such doomed yaoi to me lol sorry that it can only ever be pain. this is a really dead doves fic even though its mild on the explicit sexual content. but i needed the flimsiest of excuses to write it fadel is such a poor little meow meow

[FadelBison; R; read tags please]

Title: Strangers Summary: Mother promises him family, Fadel does his best. Tags: Omegaverse, Coerced Living Situation, Kidnapped orphan to assassin pipeline relevant angst, kissing and groping, Sad Ending, references to past underage coerced sex, some discussions suggesting Bison might be underage here but he isn't.

-------

Fadel hadn’t meant to click his tongue when he opened the door, but the tiny shivering boy on the other side of it took him by surprise. He’d pointed towards the couch, before grabbing his suitcase to take to his room. 

Well their room, now.

The boy is sitting on the couch as instructed, a biscuit clutched in his hand, taken from the platter that Fadel had set out earlier. Good, at least something is going according to plan. He knows he isn’t the warmest person so he’d read up on ways to make people feel welcome. 

It’s not like either of them have much of a say in what comes next.

He takes the seat next to the boy on the couch, doesn’t bother asking him how old he is. The answer is always too young. He looks older at least than Fadel had been, losing his first time trapped underneath an abhorrent man, who didn’t seem to really believe in lube, even though Fadel was an alpha. That was the last time he’d begged, the last time he’d trusted a partner could get him out in time. 

The answer is always it doesn’t matter. 

Fadel tells him about the neighborhood because that’s what seems appropriate; he imagines this boy - Bison - would need to wash his clothes and buy groceries at some point.

Fadel’s mood sours the more he looks at Bison. Painfully pretty, with wide innocent looking eyes. He bites his lip every time he nods his head at something Fadel says, those captivating eyes looking at him searchingly, for guidance. He knows the type of missions they’ll be going on. The ones that Mother says he’s too surly for anymore, but he knows is code for too old.

Mother had said it was meant to be a treat. That it was a gift, to be given a steady partner, a companion. 

Someone for him to groom.

He could have him, Mother had said, but make it believable- 

Bison stops him from leaving the couch. With hands clasped tightly around Fadel’s wrist, he leans in. Clumsy, but soft, somehow still searching as he presses their lips together.

Fadel doesn’t want to own a pet anymore than he wants to be one.

-make it real.

Fadel pulls Bison to him and Bison is all too amenable to be manhandled, climbing onto Fadel’s lap with ease, bringing their faces close, but not closing the gap again, handing the reins back to Fadel while he sways enticingly near, hips grinding in miniscule increments on his thigh, perfumed to enhance his sweet, natural smell. Of course Bison knows, of course Bison has been briefed. Mother never sends her precious recruits unprepared.

There are fates worse than being your wife.

Mother has said many things to him over the years. Fadel has learned not to believe all of it.

We can use a family, people trust families.

Or rather he’s learned to find the motive behind flowery, honeyed words. Learned to see the truth of the things he has to do.

Bison curls his fingers into the little hairs on Fadel’s nape, another little reminder that he’s ready, that he’s waiting. Fadel pulls him in with hands on Bison’s hips, Bison loses his balance and falls into him, their chests brushing. Bison shivers when Fadel runs his hands up his back, underneath his shirt, that thrilled but scared look latching onto somewhere deep, somewhere carnal where he no longer holds any control.

But Fadel knows the body can learn to lie, and can rebel against your mind–

Fadel keeps rubbing Bison’s body, hands sliding over his ass, gentle in the way he can’t seem to make his face; Bison still looks at him a little stricken. When Fadel’s hands sneak into his pants devastatingly, unsurprisingly he finds Bison completely dry.

–can make you think you want things you’ve never wanted.

“I just need a little more warm up.” Bison says, rubbing their cheeks together. He hazards a soft kiss on Fadel’s cheeks, “Touch me more,” he says with a proper roll of his hips. 

Fadel doesn’t have answers but he can do as Bison asks, he can kiss him, hold him. Bison is so, so pliant; so willing and still so dry. Fadel is hard and straining against his jeans, an embarrassment, proof of his corrupted desire; proof of the exact kind of trap that Mother never thinks to warn her sons about.

Fadel doesn’t know how to say that he wants this, wants Bison; but he doesn’t know him, he doesn’t know him. He doesn’t know how to explain that he’s made it so long in this profession and still when Mother had said partner and companion, stupidly Fadel had thought that Bison would come to love him.

He hadn’t thought the logistics through at all, of what love would entail, of what it always entails; carving out pieces of himself and giving them away.

Family.

Fadel loves his fantasy.

“We could be brothers.” Fadel says, pushing Bison away. It’s grotesque almost, Bison’s lips still shining with his spit, “Brothers?” Bison says and rolls his eyes, and for the first time the mask of innocence falls, just a little. Bison brings his much paler hands to contrast against Fadel's cheek, “Who’d believe that?”

Just not at the cost of what it would make him.

Fadel pushes Bison off him, scrambles off the couch, “It’s fine. It’s believable. Let me talk to Mother.”

He can't love Bison, anymore than Bison can love him. He doesn't even know where he could even begin to try.

They're strangers. tagging @kattyangel because you said you would read it.

[mm-nani-fics]

If you wrote FadeBison, I would read the hell out of it.

elliiieeeeeee!!!!! thank you! this is another ask that only made me worse and I had to prepare a little gift to express my gratitude.

I don't even know why FadelBison got me in a chokehold like this. It's not like I endgame ship them. I just need Fadel to haunt Bison's every narrative. Kind of like this:

[KantBison; R]

Bison looks so good like this - well Bison, unfortunately, always looks good. But the way he looks in Kant’s arms naked, sated after a bout of their lovemaking is definitely a cut above the rest; a delicious sheen of sweat, apple red cheeks, hair mussed with the streaks of Kant’s fingers running through them.  Except, he isn’t naked, not entirely. Kant feels the pearls, still somehow cold, when he curls his fingers into the nape of Bison’s neck.

Bison is melting into his arms, following the path that Kant’s other hand makes on his body, down his sides and gently massaging his sore hips; still a livewire of sensation in his afterglow. Kant kisses his neck, trails down his pulse at the hollow of his throat and finds himself deterred by the smiling little charm, mocking him on his thwarted quest.

Kant tests the waters, picks at the necklace absently before taking the clasp between two fingers. Bison’s hand shoots out, no longer sluggish and teasing, firmly stopping Kant. He has one eyebrow raised at him, wary.

“I just want to kiss your neck.” Kant says, curiosity piqued.

“Best of luck.” Bison responds, though he’s now sporting a small smile. He still pushes Kant’s hands away from his neck. Kant pull him in with a fingers under his jaw instead, indulging in all the things that Bison allows him to do. And there’s so many things he gets to do; like knead on the globes of his ass or play with his nipples as they kiss. And yet–

“Something special?” Kant asks, picking at the necklace again.

“No.” Bison is quick to answer, though he has his eyes cracked open now, watching Kant instead of drifting to sleep, “It’s cheap but I’ve had it for a long time.” He clarifies, in a tone that feels very much like Kant should stop asking.

“So…special then?” Kant says laughing a little, trying to keep the mood light. He pushes Bison onto his back to expose his neck better then starts kissing deliberately, reverently over the necklace.

Kant doesn’t know if it’s because of what he’s doing now, or if it’s because they’ve been cuddling and kissing for a while now but Bison is beginning to get hard against Kant’s thigh, barely able to hold back his moans.

“From someone special?” He continues, as he teases Bison’s hole again, just to test that it’s still sufficiently wet for him. He sheathes himself and slides in, “You like me fucking you in it?” He says. Bison only moans brokenly in return. He brings a hand up to Kant’s shoulder. 

For a split second Kant thinks that Bison will push him away. Eventually, the tense lines of his body relaxes, and he simply swings his legs more firmly around Kant’s back, Kant holding his thigh open to make the angle easier. 

They come like that; bodies pressed together in an artless rhythm, the imperfect imprint of Kant’s lips over the pearls on Bison’s heart.

[mm-nani-fics]

nani you have a fic about piercings but have you thought about cck piercings.. think of the real estate available

taking notes, thinking, learning etc from your big brained takes. on ao3 because it crossed 1k LMAO. i hope you like it!

Title: nailed Pairing: KantBison Rating: Explicit Summary: Kant and Bison's first time if Kant had a Prince Albert.

[mm-nani-fics]

theres no way first didn’t get a boner while filming those things… i dont even hava a dick but i got a boner

anon did you see the post where i said write something unhinged about fk and i might write fic? anyway here you go, unsolicited fic:

First is fine, of course he is. 

This is his third series writhing against Khaotung in front of a live crowd, and he’d died of mortification several times already, right now he’s just trying to breathe and get through it all. So he’s doing well, he thinks, all things considered. Just him and the blank white ceiling.

“No, the lamp throws the balance of the shot off and it hides all of Khaotung’s waist.”

And Khaotung, that traitor chimes in, “You can’t block out my waist! I shed blood for this.” To his credit he does sound genuinely anxious and First knows how hard he’s actually worked. But First is also genuinely anxious about how he is crotch up, tenting on a bed surrounded by no less than five crew members who are frantically trying to handle this situation. So far they’ve tried the covers, sweats, coffee mug on random table and apparently the latest, lamp, was also swiftly rejected. The compromise between artistic expression and First’s boner apparently eludes them still.

One would think that several people perplexed over his dick, would drive his boner right down but Khaotung, that traitorous beast, hadn’t separated from First. Instead, he lay with his head contentedly cradled on his shoulder, the heat of Khaotung’s thigh draped across First’s, sears his skin. And so, here First continues to lay, best friend tucked into his side, dick rock solid and leaving very little to the imagination in his white boxers. Light and dark color coding is fine until the outline of the veins running along his cock start showing up on HD film.

Just as he thinks Jojo is ready to just give up on the wide shot altogether, Khaotung, that absolute criminal, suddenly hums. “What if I just?” He mumbles to himself and then slithers down a little until his soft cheek is pressed against his chest, Khaotung’s warm breath steadily blowing over his nipple - dear god.

And apparently that wasn’t even the worst of it because the very next second - yep, that’s Khaotung arm pressing into his hard-on, shielding it from the camera. Jojo nearly screams, yelling out a generous amount of praises for Khaotung while First’s insides slowly dissolve into goo.

“Relax.” Khaotung, that incorrigible demon, says, “You know I take it as a compliment.” Yeah, so. First is just fine.

[mm-nani-fics]

I am not going to fall for this again Jojo I’ve seen only friends!!! You might want everyone to think that there’s some beautiful commentary here about the balance of trust and vulnerability shown through the dynamics of kink play but I am not biting this time around I only see the cute nipples but I refuse to engage in the meaning of the cute nipples in the broader context of the narrative!!!!!

[mm-nani-fics]

Duck Prints Press Kinks Your October!

Love prompt-a-day challenges? So do we, which is why we thought it would be fun to put together our own Kinktober list – assembled collaboratively with input from interested Duck Prints Press contributors. And now here we are! Welcome to the Duck Prints Press Kinks-Your-Tober challenge – 31 days of prompts, three prompts per day, loads of horny ideas there for the taking!

This is a rules-light challenge with no minimum word count or minimum art amount or whatnot. We’re kinking up your October, so anything goes! Pick one prompt per day or mix-and-match all three. Create fiction, art, graphics, playlists, or whatever else floats your boat. Fanworks or original works welcome. Combine our list with other October lists or don’t. Anything goes!! The only thing we won’t tolerate? Intolerance: no kinkshaming, shipshaming, fandom hate, etc.

We’re not reblogging or boosting works; this is a lowkey, for-fun challenge for y’all and for us. But, if you post your accurately tagged work to AO3, we encourage you to add it to the Kinks-Your-Tober 2024 collection.

Also, feel free to come hang with us on our Book Lover’s Server!

HAPPY KINKING, Y’ALL!

Full list in text form (read more):

Oct. 1: breathplay – sentient creature bestiality – collars Oct. 2: incubus/succubus – heat sex – breast worship Oct. 3: wax play – stone top – wartenberg wheel Oct. 4: xenophilia – human furniture – tailfucking Oct. 5: somnophilia – roleplaying – piercings Oct. 6: age play – oviposition – rough sex Oct. 7: nipple orgasm – suspension bondage – wireplay Oct. 8: service top – watersports – clothing kink Oct. 9: public use – tentacles – breeding kink Oct. 10: pervertable – come inflation – cigar/ash play Oct. 11: pet play – consensual non-consent – hair kink Oct. 12: knifeplay – mutual masturbation – sensation play Oct. 13: praise kink – fucking machine – wing kink Oct. 14: ice play – magical healing dick – safeword use Oct. 15: boot worship – clit/cock warming – melolagnia Oct. 16: biting – cock-and-ball torture – rut sex Oct. 17: sex work – size kink – hand/finger kink Oct. 18: exhibitionism – face sitting – underwater sex Oct. 19: blood play – vaginal/anal plug – merpeople Oct. 20: belly bulge – chastity – figging Oct. 21: objectification – voice kink – first time Oct. 22: lingerie kink – dollification – fisting Oct. 23: fire play – pampering – self-cest Oct. 24: handcuffs – hemipenes/hemiclits – glory hole Oct. 25: voyeurism – double penetration – S&M Oct. 26: lacatation – orgasm delay or denial – kneeling Oct. 27: overstimulation – dry humping – android/cyborg Oct. 28: dendrophilia – creature shifter – impact play Oct. 29: public sex – omorashi – electrical play Oct. 30: sex pollen – cunnilingus/blow job – humiliation Oct. 31: sex toys – power bottom – knotting