#Ash and Dew

[url2no]

[wrathofrats]

I’ve gotta be fucked up for a second I apologize yall just get every fucked thought w no context and then it’s a gamble on if I ever elaborate LMAO

But Swiss using dew as an ashtray send tweet

[artsycloudysleepy]

Drawing Dump!

oh and meet another OC: lily/iliad (fae/faer, has two names)! fae's the God/Guardian of the Arts in Fabrication (so art, music, writing, dance, and drama). faer design is my fav so far if i'm being honest haha, really like how it came out :D

(nye this is one of the two OCs who i've written with MDD so far! cody also has it - am going to make some human ones too methinks. thanks so much again for the tips!!!)

pppppllllluuuuusssss chara and asriel art i already posted in january but still like enough to promote again now that i uh. actually have followers :3

(also this is TOTALLY targeting a mutual who should really play undertale....................... hint hint hint /silly)

@mylackofgrammaristerrifying @mrrotten @nyenylon hiiiiiiiii hope you guys are having a fun timezone!! what're you guys up to? :)

[hearthtrob]

Hold me in the dark

♥ Aether x Dewdrop

♥ Angst & fluff

♥ grammatical errors

♥ Word count: 1599 (part 1 of 2)

"Don't leave." Dew said, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand traced patterns over Aether's bare chest, his eyes dully shining in the dimly lit room. Aether was carding his hand through his hair and only let out a hum in response.

It was always a quiet night. The soft music from the speakers in the bedroom, the gentle movement of the fan blowing cool air into the room, the comforting warmth of the bed, the warmth that comes from the company. They were each other's worlds, a small island in the vast ocean of humanity. A safe harbor from the storms of the mind and heart.

"You'll be fine." 

Dew only nodded, eyes closed, as he inhaled the familiar scent of Aether's scent. His fingers were tightening on Aether's wrist. He felt safe and secure; and he never wanted to let go. His mind was at peace and free from any thoughts of anxiety. Only Aether occupied it. Nothing else mattered to him as they lay there in silence.

"But what if I'm not fine?" Dew whispered, breaking the short silence, "You're leaving. Leaving the ministry, leaving me. How am I- How do you expect me to be fine?"

Aether's hand cupped the side of Dew's face as he looked into his eyes. He gently caressed Dew's cheeks as he spoke. "Believe in yourself; you're strong and capable of anything. You don't need to depend on me; you're more than capable on your own. I trust you; I know you’ll be okay."

Dew nearly scoffed; he almost got up out of bed then and there: "But I'm not capable—I'm not capable of shit. You don't understand, Aeth." He said, brows furrowing. "You don't get it."

"What don’t I get?" Aether asked as he pulled Dew back down to his body. His hand stroked over Dew's lower jaw as he spoke. His thumb was brushing over Dew's lips. The look in his eyes was earnest as he watched Dew. "You don't have to hold back your words with me; you know this. We can work this out as we always have."

"I depend on you," Dew finally admitted in a whisper. "You're my safety net; you're my everything. I don't know what I'd do without you." He continued, "I just-  I'm scared. Okay? I'm scared, and I don't know what to do without you here."

Aether smiled and brushed Dew's bangs out of his eyes. His hand was cupping the back of Dew's head and pressing him down into his body. "I'm scared too, love." Aether whispered. "I'm scared that you'll be hurt. I'm scared that you'll be alone. I'm scared you'll find someone better than me, "Aether said as he tightened his grip on Dew. "I'm scared of losing you."

"I don't want anyone else, okay?" Dew suddenly spoke, his eyes squeezing shut to avoid the sight of the tears that were forming in his eyes. "I don't need anyone else; you're more than a safety net to me." He wiped his eyes. "You're my world." He admitted it and let out a shaky breath when Aether brought him down for a kiss.

The kiss was sweet and tender, as if they were both cherishing each moment in time like a precious gemstone. Aether held onto Dew's body tightly, the scent of his body filling his nose. The heat of Dew's body pressed against his was comforting and warm. 

"I love you, Dew." Aether said as he pulled him into his body and wrapped his arms around him. He held him tightly, almost as if he were afraid to let him go. "I’ll always love you."

It was like a dam breaking when those words left Aether's mouth. Dew suddenly wrapped himself around Aether's body, his arms clutching his shoulders. Tears started to fall from his eyes, and he buried his head into Aether's chest. His whole body shook with sobs as he finally gave in to the strong emotions that were trying to rip him apart from the inside.

Aether stroked his fingers through Dew's hair gently as he held him. His heart ached at the sight of Dew crying in his arms, and he couldn't bear to see it. "Shh, shh, it's okay." He said this as he gently brushed the hair away from Dew's face. "I'm here, Sparky." 

He brought his lips to Dew's head and kissed it gently. His breath caught when he breathed in the scent of Dew's hair.

"I don't want to be alone," Dew choked out between sobs. He buried his face back into Aether's chest as he held onto him tightly. "Please, I just don't want to lose you." 

His voice was muffled, but there was a hint of desperation in his voice. He needed Aether to stay; he couldn't bear the thought of being without him.

"Shh, it's okay." Aether repeated quietly as he lay down with Dew in his arms. His chest pounded when he felt those warm tears against his skin. He didn't care about the stains that would be left; he could care less about that. His only concern was comforting Dew and making sure that he felt safe and secure.

Dew finally calmed down after a few minutes as Aether stroked his fingers over his back. His whole body felt limp as he relaxed under Aether's touch. The tears finally stopped falling from his eyes, and he just lay in Aether's arms in silence. 

"Will you stay with me?" He finally asked after a bit of time had passed. "Please don't leave me." He gripped Aether's arm and squeezed it tightly. And Aether would notice that his nails were digging into his flesh.

"Let's not think about that right now, Dew." Aether spoke softly, stroking his fingers over Dew's back as he spoke. Dew tightened his grip on Aether, and he squeezed back. "Can we just try to relax, okay? We don't have to figure this out right now. We can think about it tomorrow or the next day."

"No," Dew said in a small but determined voice. "I'm tired of this; I'm tired of pretending it can wait. You're leaving me, and I need you to tell me you're staying." 

Aether couldn't help but notice the tension under his touch. Dew's body was stiff, and he was refusing to relax.

"Dew," Aether spoke quietly as he looked down on him. "Look at me, love." He said this when he noticed that he was staring blankly at the ceiling. 

When he finally got him to meet his gaze, he said, "I'm not going to lie to you; you know I can't." When Dew's eyes widened, he quickly raised a finger to his lips. "But listen to me for a moment."

"You know that I love you, right?" Aether asked as he stroked over Dew's cheek and let his thumb brush his lip. "It's not like this is something I want. This isn't something that I'm doing because I want to; it's because I have to. You understand that, don't you?"

"No," Dew choked out, his hands clutching onto Aether's wrists, where they sat in his hands. He was shaking, and the thought of Aether leaving and the thought of being abandoned again shattered his heart. "Don't ask me to understand that," he said through the tears that suddenly fell from his eyes, his voice quivering.

"Don't make me out to be the bad guy," Aether said gently as he looked into the teary eyes of his lover. He couldn't bear the sight of those bright eyes stained with salty tears, and he hated that he was leaving him. 

"It's not that I'm choosing not to stay." Aether said, "I can't stay." The desperation and sadness he heard in Dew's voice left a pit in his chest. Nothing hurts more than that sound.

"Please, Aeth," Dew said quietly, his words laced with a hint of desperation. "Don't leave me." He begged quietly, his hands clutching at Aether's wrists tight enough to leave bruises. He looked at Aether with the same intensity he would see the sun with. His lips parted when he spoke. "I can't do this without you."

"Dew." Aether tried to speak softly, but the words came out harder than he expected. The look on his lover’s face broke his heart, and he didn't like seeing him like this. "Do you honestly think I want to leave you?" He asked quietly, his fingers finally getting loose from the vise-like grasp of Dew's hands.

"I don't care that you don't want to leave," Dew said angrily as his eyes flashed with anger. "You're still going to leave me all by myself, the only person I need and depend on." He stopped as he took in a shaky breath. "I don't know what I'll do without you; I really, honestly don't."

“You’ll be okay.” Aether said, sighing, “You can always call me or text me. Even then, I won’t be gone forever, Dew.” Aether said

"I don't want to just text or call you." Dew said it angrily, his voice shaking with the anger he felt. "I don't want to be alone; I need you. I need your touch; I need your presence." He wiped at his eyes as he forced back the urge to scream.

"Please," Dew begged, "just stay with me. I-I can't do this without you." He gripped at Aether's arm again, digging in his nails as his eyes begged and pleaded. He didn't seem to care that a small trickle of blood was forming when his nails dug into Aether's skin.

for @kiss-it-better-prettyplease, who hopefully enjoys reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Love you 💙

[sovaghoul]

🥺

Thank you Ashe!

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

When Dew struggles with absolutely anything, and Aether is there with his unwavering, unconditional support. Aether will always remind Dew that he is worthy and deserving of love. He is devoted to Dew's enduring happiness, in this life and any hereafter.

Fanfic Writer Emoji Asks

[phagodyke]

once again saved by elden ring 🙏

[sphylor]

A little fluffy Dewfrit ficlet to make up for the angst :]

Ifrit had been staring at him throughout the entire ritual. Dew could practically feel his eyes burning him with the fire that they held. And even with the mask hiding Ifrit’s face, Dew just knew that he was smiling that stupid grin of his. 

They had absolutely blasted their way through the first 8 songs on the setlist. The crowd screamed and the energy in the room was electric. This was their last show of the tour and they were going all out for it. Aether practically flew around the stage, jumping off of every surface he could. Ifrit followed suit, adding in a few twirls and hops here and there to make the crowd go wild. And whilst Dew wasn’t one for jumping, twirling or hopping, he still stormed around, stomping and playing his bass with a ferocity uncommon in most water ghouls.

When it came to Aether’s solo in Year Zero, Dew and Ifrit were playing very close to one another, only a few inches separating them. The water ghoul kept seeing Ifrit look up at him and he instantly knew what he wanted. 

So he kept his head down, trying to focus solely on his playing, not giving in that easily in front of the crowds. This was a bit they always did. After a few moments of playing, they would lean in closer to each other, turning their heads as if about to bump their masks together for a kiss. 

They would always pull away, though. Much to the disappointment of the fans, Dew’s been told. But he wasn’t exactly going to start snogging the fire ghoul onstage in front of everyone now was he? Ifrit clearly had other ideas. He kept looking up from his guitar at the water ghoul, who was staring reolutely down at his own. 

The smell of cinnamon was so strong that Dew wasn’t surprised if the audience could pick up on it. He blushed as he realised it was mixing with his own scent and silently sent a prayer of thanks to whoever’s idea it was to make them wear masks. Ifrit must have picked up on the sudden smell of the ocean and he made a small noise, somewhere in between a snort and a whine.

It startled Dewdrop. And as he looked up in disbelief at the sound that had just escaped the fire ghoul he realised his mistake.

Their masks clunked against each other clumsily. Ifrit stayed next to his face long enough to say “Got ya, Water Lily.” before bounding off to the other side of the stage, where Aether was finishing his solo.

[guinea-pig-enthusiast]

"How did Ash survive X it should have killed him"

The water in this world has healing powers how do you think

[fyodoro]

TakeanotherdragturnmetoashesReadyforanotherlie?Sayshe’sgonnateachmewhatfastisSaysit’sgonnabealright

[plasticpasteries]

here's a list of lore tidbits I keep forgetting about but feel I should mention

Crow fest:

The Sugarpines have a corgi named Ajax

Similarly, The Hillberrys had a cat, but she kinda ran off after Matthew died

William is both arachnophobic and mysophobic

Allen is every type of phobic :)

Matthew used to be a newsboy

Darrel carries cards on him at all times

At Felix and William's job, there's a chalkboard that tallies how many times Will has tripped that shift. It's usually at 7 halfway in.

Matthew has twitter and has been called a dilf several times

Magma:

Rex is bilingual

Rex is a super fan of Internet Shutdown, and basically lost his goddamn mind when Kyle moved in nextdoor.

Noah has two siblings that he never talks about because they sucked.

There was this plastic eating bug that almost mauled a dude to death

the plot is about Noah being cursed.

Anything But Norman

Norman accidentally got a royal status because he unknowingly married a literal goddamn prince.

Dew wants to do music instead, so he basically pulled a "I don't want to run the family business>:("

Norman has this strange fixation on Alshguardians

Norman almost burnt a clown themed restaurant down because his arm was chopped off by a warrior cats roleplayer

Garden of Ash

The entire reason that Thyme, an almost 50 something year old man, has beef with Barley is he was supposed be in his care

Parsnip and Sage have never made out

Chives was dragged along for the ride

Charles von Challéce III used to run a cult environmentalism based religion

Thyme has 15 lizards. He throws the lizards at people and tells them they're baby dragons just to cause chaos

Thyme cut of his own tits before remembering magic exists

And uh that's it

[cleopatrachampagne]

in honor of ash wednesday i’mma say that as hilarious as finding out the weird catholic taxonomy of random animals as fish for the purpose of lent may be, the funniest instance of a practice to try to trick god i’ve ever seen actually comes from my mormon family friend whose religion forbids caffeine but he chugs liters of mountain dew because — unlike coffee, energy drinks or cola — it alone is apparently some form of established loophole to the rule i won’t bullshit y’all and pretend to understand. i’ll just assume that in her infinite wisdom god turns a blind eye out of respect for the refreshing splendor of taco bell’s baja blast and leave it at that.

[liviavanrouge]

Meeting

Livia: *Laughs, walking through the village, looking around*

Ash: *Smiles, glancing at her as he payed for the fruit he took*

Livia: Papa Ash! Look!

Ash: Go ahead, go watch the show, I'll be in the silk shop over here

Livia: *Nods and turns away, crashing into someone*

???: Oh my..

Livia: *Looks up her eyes widening* Papa...

???: No, I'm your auntie Dew Vanrouge

Livia: Auntie?

Dew: *Smiles, looking amused* You look like both of your parents

Ash: *Presses a blade to Dew's neck, bristling* Why are you talking to my goddaughter...what do you want from her

Dew: *Looks at Ash, startling him*

Ash: Lilia?!

Dew: Do I really look that much like my twin brother?

Ash: *Moves his blade away* Lady Dew, I didn't recognize you, I'm sorry

Livia: She's really my aunt?

Ash: Yeah, she is

Dew: *Chuckles and smiles, looking amused* It's nice to finally meet you, little Livia

Livia: Same here!

/At NRC/

Ace: WHICH ONE OF YOU GOT THE LETTER THIS TIME!!

Sheyrn: FESS UP!!!!!

Ortho: *Floats in, beaming* I got Livia's letter today!

Jack: Let me read it

Ortho: *Beams, passing the letter to Jack*

Jack: *Opens the letter, reading out loud* Hey guys, I sent you all gifts in a package, I mailed it to Bandit since I know he'd make sure you all get your gifts before he did. I also met my auntie, she's so pretty and graceful! I'll be back the day after tomorrow, until then!

Jack: *Smiles, showing the others the photo*

Ortho: Wow!

Sebek: I'm so happy for her highness

[pseudowho]

Yet Another Nanami Kento Sex Pollen Fic, Part One

Owing our Reader for pleasuring him after his prior drunk escapades, Kento allows himself to be thoroughly used after the Reader encounters some rather unusual pollen.

Read Part Two HERE!

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"Hey, darling. Home soon? I was going to run out and grab some wine."

You smiled warmly at Kento's voice over the phone, brushing your mission clothes off with one hand while you surveyed the wreck of your surroundings. The factory you were in seemed ancient, despite its abandonment in just the last decade. Its back wall, you noted, was formed of collapsed brickwork, opening out onto a patch of hazy woodland. You were curious to investigate.

"Soon," you promised Kento, "the main Curse body is gone. I'm just going to do a last sweep around. You know, I--"

"-- like to be thorough," Kento parroted you, knowing you so well. You rolled your eyes at him. Hearing him chuckle, he reassured you, "No, no, I like it. You're thorough. It's a turn-on, I promise." Laughing lightly as you stepped over damp brickwork and ivy, you heard the jangle of Kento's keys over the phone.

"Well, Sir, if I'm that much of a turn-on, you'd best get that wine. I'm ready for our evening." Kento gave you an approving hum, and bid you get home soon.

Hanging up, you stepped into the humidity of what appeared to be a totally enclosed patch of woodland, sprung like an oasis, half-in and half-out of the crumbled factory walls. Beautiful flowers, wild with a heady scent, sprouted from beds of moss and ivy, and low-hanging trees dropped jewels of dew onto the springy floor. You felt yourself becoming heavy-headed and warm. Bending down to inspect a particularly beautiful pink-budded succulent, you squeaked in shock when the buds puffed open into a surprising shade of yellow, coating you in a fine mist of pollen.

Sneezing, you backed away. Bumping against the residual wall, you noticed the forest starting to crumble away from the edges, disintegrating in the same way as the main Curse-body had. With a sinking feeling in your stomach, you recognised you had nearly been so foolish as to walk straight into the remains of its dying belly. Telling yourself off for your gullibility, you watched from the factory as the forest faded away, leaves rising like ashes into the mist.

You felt flushed, heart thumping behind your breasts as you left the factory, finding Ijichi waiting patiently for you outside the veil. Ijichi smiled to you, bowing, thanking you for your services. He held the car door open for you, and you climbed in, grateful for the chance to sit down.

Except, as the car rumbled to life, every small vibration, every graze of the cool leather against your flushed skin, every time you caught the smell of Ijichi's shampoo, you felt the agonising thud of arousal between your legs. You mentally shook yourself when catching yourself looking Ijichi up and down from the back seat, admiring how his hands managed the steering wheel so smoothly, and you were appalled that this wonderful, kind, gorgeous man didn't have a girlfriend yet. Maybe you could be his girlfriend, you thought fleetingly, you'd know how to treat him right--

"Everything okay?" Ijichi caught your eyes in the mirror, full of concern as you gasped at yourself and slapped your own cheeks. Cheeks pink, breasts heaving with deep breaths and underwear increasingly wet, you knew you needed to get home to Kento. There was absolutely nobody else you needed right now, and surely this would wear off, surely he would help you deal with your desire as you had helped with his, in the shower that night--

"I'm okay, Ijichi, I'm fine!" You babbled, arms folded across your chest to hide your pebbled nipples, "Just tired! You know how it is. Busy day." You laughed nervously, hiding your face in shame as Ijichi politely bowed his head and continued to drive you home.

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Kento dropped his keys onto the shelf, slipping out of his shoes and into house slippers as he leaned back against the door, shutting it with a click.

His heart gave a happy leap when he heard you rummaging around the bathroom; you were home. Rolling the wine bottle in his broad palm, he fetched two glasses. In the process of uncorking the bottle, he pretended not to notice as you walked up behind him. He regretted feigning ignorance when he felt sharp teeth nip into the back of his shoulder.

Kento spun, startled, and barely had time to save the open bottle of wine when he was pushed with surprising force back against the table. All thoughts and blood rushed straight to his cock as he felt your body, insistent and hot press against his. Kento offered no resistance at first as you grabbed the back of his neck, fingers sinking into his hair to pull him down for a kiss, but stopped immediately at the feverish and desperate look in your eyes.

Kento gripped your shoulders and held you at arm's length, scowling deeply as he appraised you. Still in mission-wear. Flushed. Eyes glazed. Heat radiating off you.

"You're...hurt? What happened? Tell me." Kento ordered, already moving to grab his keys- you needed Shoko's attention. You moved instantly to block Kento's path, eyes fixed on him and pupils dilated as you panted, arousal thrumming through you in waves, your blood rushing in your ears and between your legs. Not swayed, and firm in his decision, Kento restrained you effortlessly, one arm trapping both of yours behind your back, and another arm diagonally across your breasts.

As Kento's arms pressed your body firmly against his own, you moaned and Kento short-circuited. Not letting go, breath tickling the side of your face, Kento stared at you.

"What happened?" he repeated. You pressed your head back against his shoulder, whimpering in frustration.

"The Curse was very plant-like I suppose, and it had a garden, and these pollen pods just exploded all over me, and since then I've just...I just...god Kento please just fuck me, I'm begging you."

With a blush, it finally clicked for Kento-  you weren't hurt, you were uncontrollably horny. He gulped, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth, and cock hardening against his thigh. In a measured voice, Kento replied.

"You're in no fit state to demand I fuck you. You're under the influence of that curse, and I won't take advantage of you like that."

"Who said anything about you taking advantage?" You whined, rubbing your arse back against his hardening cock, "I'm asking if you'll let me take advantage of you." You squirmed against Kento, one of your pinned hands sneaking between the buttons of his shirt to rub his V-line. Your head turned sharply and you bit Kento's neck hard enough to draw blood. Kento yelped in alarm, now moving you swiftly forwards and pressing you into the wall, using one arm and one knee between your legs to pin you there.

"You minx," he gasped. Wiping at his neck with one hand and holding your wrists in another, Kento watched as you squirmed against the wall, thighs clamped furiously together for relief, blush creeping down your breasts.

"Kento, please," you begged, "I helped you. When you came home, drunk. And you promised you wouldn't refuse me."

"You and I both know that was--"

"It was no different!" Kento let his silence hang in the air. He knew as soon as he let you go, you'd be undressing him in seconds. He was furious to find himself thrilled at the thought. Being used as your toy sounded absolutely delicious.

"If I let you use me for some relief, but it doesn't work, I'll be taking you to Shoko immediately. Understood?" You nodded frantically, hands clenching and unclenching desperately in Kento's grasp. Kento walked you slowly back to the table, and you heard him knock back his glass of wine. You felt a glass placed to your lips, and Kento's smooth voice in your ear, "Bottoms up," as you gulped the wine, the alcohol hitting your heightened senses immediately, and your need for Kento to be buried inside you was suddenly furious and burning.

Kento let go of your wrists, and you jumped him, quite literally, arms locked behind his neck and legs around his waist. Kento grunted in surprise as your lips crashed against his with bruising force, the taste of blood and red wine on his tongue as you forced yours into his mouth, immediately dominant in a way that aroused him to his very core. Kento's hands cupped your arse perfectly, and you shifted your weight so Kento slammed back onto the table, feet on the floor as you straddled him, clothed pussy grinding against his cock.

Kento groaned at the contact, and submitted fully when you pinned his wrists to the table, leaning forward to bite and suck his neck. Kento shivered with pleasure, feeling every mark that he would see in the mirror the next morning. Drunk on the novelty of being so used, Kento offered absolutely no resistance as your hand slipped to his groin, squeezing his clothed erection almost too hard through the thin material. Kento shuddered, coughing in surprise and bucking into your hand.

Your hand left his cock far too soon, and you moved up Kento's body, now pinning his wrists with your knees as you began to undo his tie. Kento watched you with absolute focus as you then began to undress yourself, clothes being flung off at speed, until you were bare breasted on top of him, nipples hard as bullets, and you absent-mindedly draped Kento's tie around your neck as you surveyed him like your favourite meal.

"Oh, fuck," Kento intoned, as you ripped open his shirt, hearing buttons skitter away across the table. Moving down to grind against him again, and replacing your knees on his wrists with your hands, you bit his nipple, leaving lovebites across his heaving chest. Kento's head swam with arousal and anticipation, hands eager to reach you, to give you your own way, to be inside you.

You were focused, predatory in your need, and closed your eyes as you kicked your trousers and underwear off, pussy now totally naked and glistening with your arousal, leaving a wet patch on Kento's groin as you humped his clothed cock fervently. Kento was completely pinned, moaning and gasping as his cock twitched with need. You felt like you were on fire, your clit throbbing as you felt your first orgasm approaching, almost there but not close enough, body and mind still feeling too empty to climax. Your torso leaned closer to Kento's as you tried to increase the pressure and he quickly freed his arms from under yours.

Sliding one hand between your legs, he hurriedly pressed his two middle fingers upwards, deep into the heat and wetness of your pussy, his thumb quickly finding your clit and rubbing harsh circles on it. You cried out and bucked, riding his hand, and Kento nearly came from the feeling of your pussy clenching his fingers alone. You had reached down, both hands holding Kento's wrist, grasping his hand in place as your cunt fluttered around it, wet and needy, your cries becoming higher and louder, desperate to abate the burning arousal that had turned your skin electric.

Kento felt your desperation, watching you, near tears, trying to cum on his fingers. Reaching down, he swiftly unbuttoned his trousers and freed his leaking cock, pressing it up into you without warning, not even removing his fingers, and pinching your clit between his thumb and forefinger.

Your orgasm hit you in hot waves, tears streaming down your cheeks as you called Kento's name over and over, feeling stretched and overfull with his fingers and cock still inside you. Feeling next to no relief post-orgasm, you slammed your hips down on Kento's, chasing the fullness his hand and straining erection gave you.

Kento clenched his teeth as you rode him, refusing to cum until you'd had your fill of him, vision and heart full of you clad in nothing but his tie. One hand remaining between your legs, and the other providing aggressive attention to your breasts and nipples, Kento felt your sweat and cum drip down his balls, groin now soaked with the intoxicating smell of you. He continued rubbing circles on your clit and squeezed his fingers forward against your internal walls, feeling your cervix bump his fingertips, as you shook and shuddered your way through a second orgasm.

Kento removed his hands to grasp your hips, your wetness dropping along his hand. Lifting you up and ramming you back down onto his cock, you slumped forwards onto him, a ragdoll.

Determined to pleasure you until you could barely stand, Kento tilted your hips against his until his cock pumped in and out of you at the perfect angle, his eyes fixed on where his fingers sank into the plush fat of your arse, jiggling as he slammed you down onto him. He hissed as your nails dug crescents into his shoulders, and you pleaded against his chest-- "please please please cum inside me, don't stop, don't stop" -- while his hips bucked you upwards, feet cramping as his toes pressed hard onto the floor, lights in his eyes as he felt his balls and abdomen clench, his approaching orgasm about to overwhelm his stamina. He felt your teeth and hot little pants against his chest.

Your hips couldn't keep up with his pace, hearing his moans rumble through his chest with every thrust, until you felt his cock jump and spurt hot seed inside you, cervix wet and belly warm and full. You lay on top of him, shuddering, feeling the heat in your body gradually dissipate. Kento stroked your hair, strong arms holding you to him, planting soft kisses on top of your head.

"Better?" he inquired, toying with the tie around your neck. You blushed, bashful after your performance, nodding and humming against his neck. "Much," you reassured him. He tapped your bum playfully, "You go shower and get cleaned up. I'll tidy up out here."

You climbed off him with a sigh, feeling his cum drip down your thighs as he slipped out of you, and you padded away to the bathroom.

In a few minutes, sated, sleepy, and feeling the hot water tumble over you, you were struck with a thought. Opening the shower door, you called out to Kento.

"I was just thinking, maybe you shouldn't touch those clothes? There's probably still loads of--" You paused, hearing Kento sneeze and swear in the next room.

A few tense moments passed, the time coiling up in your tummy like snakes, and the bathroom door creaked open slowly. Kento filled the doorway, shoulders tense as he stared you down like you were prey, slowly stroking his rapidly hardening cock.

"Oh shit," you breathed, naked and helpless under the hot water as he approached you, eyes burning with intent.

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REQUEST #1 COMPLETE!

And just think, Kento never even took off his slippers. Get you a man who can rail you like that with his house slippers on.

[teanderthalrex]

Alien: Romulus Book Recommendations

Dead Silence by S.A. Barnes - A woman and her crew board a decades-lost luxury cruiser and find the wreckage of a nightmare that hasn't yet ended.

This World is Not Yours By Kemi Ashing-Giwa. Three friends on a new colony planet. There’s more than one way to be eaten alive.

Salvation Day by Kali Wallace. A lethal virus is awoken on an abandoned spaceship in this incredibly fast-paced, claustrophobic thriller.

Illuminae by Jay Kristoff and Amie Kaufman. A deadly plague has broken out and is mutating, with terrifying results; the fleet’s AI, which should be protecting them, may actually be their biggest threat; and nobody in charge will say what’s really going on.

Contagion by Erin Bowman. After receiving a distress call from a drill team on a distant planet, a skeleton crew is sent into deep space to perform a standard search-and-rescue mission.

Authors like Mur Lafferty, Tim Pratt, Peter Watts, J.S. Dewes, Caitling Starling, Sue Burton, and R.E. Stearns may have books that fit this theme that I just haven't read.

[sorceresssundries]

Of Pain and Pleasure

Warnings: Talk of chronic pain. Masturbation.

Length: 2.5k of self-indulgence.

Summary: A wizard cursed with a volatile, dark magic discovers that his growing sexual frustration is making the Netherese orb embedded in his chest more painful and unstable. How does he deal with this issue? By having a wank, obviously!

The once-charmed locket lay useless and stripped in the dew-damp grass. The usual feeling of relief—a fire smothered and a hunger sated—was absent. The Netherese flames still licked at him, his breathing not yet back to its natural rhythm, and his ribs felt as though they were stretched and warped around something too big for them to hold. They were. The pain was too big for his flimsy mortal bones to contain.

Panic began to mix with the dull, pulsing ache, making it worse. Any kind of spiral, any desperate feeling that tightened his chest, slipped down into the relentless pit and antagonised the gluttonous curse that was settled there. The tendrils of the orb had not only marked his skin but coiled their way around his nerves, fraying and gnawing. They wrapped around him so intently that he could no longer tell which hunger was his and which belonged to the orb.

Count, he thought to himself between audible, struggling breaths. You have to count.

He imagined climbing the stairs of the tower, with morning light spilling over the walls as Tara’s soft pawprints padded along beside him. One step at a time.

He imagined picking up a book he had the luxury of lazily savouring by the fire on a rainy day, feeling the thrum of pages against his fingers, counting each one until he found where he left off. One page at a time.

He counted the times Tav had touched him. Seventeen. There had been seventeen touches. The last time was when she had taken his hand for no other reason than that she thought he needed it. He had. He always needed it. He had wanted to raise her hand to his lips and brush his mouth against her bloodied knuckles. He craved her touch like a bare branch craves spring.

The yawning ache stretched itself out again, threatening him, pressing the jagged edges against his lungs until each breath felt like it would split him open.

Okay… bad… not helping.

At first, he had been confused - he had spent over a year in his tower absorbing slivers of weave from various magical items, and it had been enough. He could live a relatively normal, albeit isolated, life. The pain would arrive every now again like a familiar stranger and he would be able to keep it at bay, there were rules it obeyed and patterns it followed. 

Then he met Tav...

He thought of her smile, and another flame licked at his insides. The realisation struck him like a blow: it was his hunger for Tav that was making the orb unstable. His discontent, his desperation for her, was becoming dangerous. The orb’s power wasn’t growing stronger—his resolve was crumbling. The barriers he had erected to contain the orb’s influence were weakening. His control was slipping through his fingers, and the terrifying truth was that he didn’t know how to stop it.

He hurt pretty much all the time now, but the greatest ache of all was from not touching Tav the way he wanted to. The ache of not peeling each piece of her sweat-soaked, blood-spattered clothes from her and kissing his way across every inch of her skin. He wanted to find each and every scar that flecked her skin, pale and iridescent like the inside of a salt-licked seashell. He wanted to lose himself in each hidden, secret place. The restraint of keeping himself from her was becoming too tight, too choking. His desperation stoked the already barely contained fire within him, threatening to burn him from the inside out, reducing him to nothing more than flecks of weave-tainted ash—and a crater the size of a city.

A few hours ago, with the dregs of adrenaline from a fierce fight still swirling through their systems, she had removed her shirt in front of him. and used it to wipe sweat and blood from her skin before dunking it in the river to clean. She had caught him staring at her, topless and unabashed. Why should she care? They were soldiers, not etiquette-bound nobles. But gods, the sight of her… Another wave of pain rocked him.

Something would have to be done. 

He managed to stumble his way back to his tent without attracting any attention. It was late, and most were still in bed or out hunting. The camp was quiet, the darkness a blanket that shielded him from prying eyes. Once inside, he collapsed onto his bedroll, finally giving the pain the attention it craved. Instead of pushing it down as he usually did, he let himself sink into it, hoping that by opening the door and inviting it in, the pain would take up residence for a while and then, having exhausted its welcome, eventually leave. It was a gamble, a desperate hope that by embracing the torment, he could somehow hasten its departure. But it didn’t seem to work. His thoughts kept drifting back to Tav, and his need for her was an ember that kept the pain simmering and spitting.

He lay there, hurting, and considered his options.

He could leave and eradicate the threat of harming everyone around him. But what would come first—the orb detonating or ceremorphosis? He couldn’t risk becoming a mind flayer with all that raw, destructive power nestled within him, waiting to be unleashed. God knows what kind of monster he would become, what horrors he might commit with such power at his disposal.

He could tell her? What if he confessed how much he wanted her, how every time he heard her laugh it was like a wave of pleasure sinking under his skin and rolling down his spine? She would be kind about it, he was certain. But would it be more painful to be open with his feelings and have them unreciprocated? To be both desperate and embarrassed? That could make things worse, he realised with a painful twinge. He could become the wizard who literally blew up from rejection. Not exactly how he imagined his legacy.

But what if she wanted him too? What if those moments when he felt her eyes on him were not from judgement, but from desire? He thought back to the magic lesson they had shared. It wasn’t what he had expected—just a few minutes where her scent and the sound of her rapid breathing danced in the air alongside the weave. Two opposing forces mingling and crackling around him, skimming across his skin in electrifying waves. Threads and caresses of purple and green, the scent of rosewater mingling with the spiced cinnamon that filled his lungs like warm cider on a cold midwinter night in Waterdeep. He had wanted to reach out, to slot his aching, starved fingers between hers. He wanted to feel warm again, to be warmed in the way only another person could offer.

Then, an image of a kiss slipped into his thoughts—simple and electric. She was thinking of kissing him, and he could almost feel the feather-light brush of her lips against his. The thought of kissing her back, of letting their fantasies intertwine so vividly that it was impossible to tell who was leading, filled him with a desperate longing. But as the desire for it to go further awoke within him, so did the pain. Doubts crept in, whispering that it was nothing more than a fleeting moment, two people getting carried away. 

The magic extinguished, the weave unravelled, and the sweetness died.

“How easily things slip away from us,” he had lamented, before bidding her goodnight and leaving in pain and embarrassment.

Now, he sighed as he thought of all the ways he wanted to touch her. His hand lay flat against the skin of his abdomen, and he closed his eyes, trying to imagine that the weight and warmth of his hand were hers. 

Every time she offered him a smile, he ached to kiss it, to taste the joy that bubbled up from within her. Yes, she was beautiful, with hips that swayed like music and eyes that contained entire universes, but it was her mind that truly captivated him. The quick, sharp bite of her wit, the effortless way she dispensed kindness…  It wasn’t just that he wanted to touch her—Gods, how he wanted to touch her—but he longed to know her, completely.

The pain blazed and the orb glowed in warning, but… perhaps… if he were slow and cautious…

The ache of his erection was tormenting him. It had been so long since he had pleasured himself, since he had even allowed himself to consider it... His need had been buried under layers of control and discipline, suppressed by the fear of what might happen if he let go. But now, that control was slipping, overshadowed by his longing for her. He wondered if indulging, even for just a moment, might offer some relief—even if only briefly.

He settled himself, letting out a slow, measured breath as his fingers traced across the soft skin of his navel, following the line of dark hair down to where he was rock hard. At first, he held himself gently, the sensation unfamiliar and almost foreign after so long. But it wasn’t long before the softness gave way to urgency, his hand gripping more tightly as he began to move his hips into his own grasp. The thought of Tav pleasuring him like this was too delicious to be subtle, and the fantasy burned bright in his mind.

He imagined drawing sounds from her that no one else had ever heard, sounds she herself didn’t even know she was capable of making. The thought of it sent shivers down his spine. and he began to stroke himself faster as he envisioned her losing herself to the waves of pleasure he would bring. Her taut, practised muscles losing control as they wrapped around his head, her body writhing with each flick of his tongue.

In his fantasy, he saw himself having to be more and more forceful to keep her still, his hands gripping her hips as his tongue pressed and stroked, building her up only to make her fall apart. He wanted to unravel her, to take her to heights she had never imagined. He audibly moaned as he imagined the sounds she would make, the way her body would respond to his touch. The thought of her yielding to him, of her body quaking with ecstasy, was almost more than he could bear.

He stopped himself before he came, not wanting the fantasy to end. He was desperately close, and already leaking. He wanted to make the most of this time with Tav, even if it was only in his own head. The pain was still there, but he paid it very little attention.

It had been such a long time since he had luxuriated in the raw, primal pleasures of mortal sexuality with another person—the slick sheen of sweat on skin, the burn of stretched muscles, the sound of uncontrollable lust released in ragged, blissed-out breaths. Yes, the merging of souls and the celestial sharing of pleasure was an experience beyond compare, a union that transcended the physical, but it never quite sated the hunger that still burned within him, a hunger that was flesh-bound and raw. He was a chosen, a prodigy of magic, an illusionist of unparalleled skill. He could bend reality to his will and conjure wonders from thin air. But, he was also a man. A man who now lay in the dark solitude of his tent, his hand wrapped tightly around his hard, leaking cock, aching for the very human experience of sinking into Tav’s eager cunt.

His breath quickened as he stroked himself again, and In the quiet darkness of the tent, he surrendered to the fantasy, his mind painting vivid images of Tav’s body arching beneath him, her legs wrapped around his waist, her fingers digging into his back as he thrust into her with a fervour that bordered on desperation. He could almost taste the salt of her skin, almost feel the quiver of her thighs as she reached the peak of her pleasure.

He was a master of illusions, but this—this was no illusion. It was a deep, salacious desire that nothing could dispel. And as he lay there, his hand moving faster, his breath coming in ragged gasps, he knew that no amount of magic could satisfy the longing he felt for her. He needed her in a way that was as ancient and undeniable as the stars themselves.

As his pleasure built, his pain receded. It was becoming nothing more than a background pulse to the roar of his fantasy. Nothing else mattered at that moment. All he knew was Tav. He lost himself, letting himself be carried away to another place, where pleasure eclipsed pain, and desire became the only reality.

He was the orb, and her touch were the slivers of magic he needed to keep himself together. 

He imagined her gasping out his name in pure, undiluted pleasure and it sent him crashing over the precipice. He choked out breaths as he came, imagining he was spilling inside her cunt or down her throat. 

He lay there, spent and mellow in his post-orgasmic state, waiting for the inevitable return of the pain. He braced himself, expecting the familiar surge of agony to claw its way back, to push into his ribs and split him apart once more. But... it didn’t. The hurt was still there, a steady throb beneath his skin, but it was different now—muted, like a muffled voice through a wall rather than the blaring, all-consuming force it had been. 

He exhaled, more content now that he had allowed himself some release. The tension that had coiled so tightly within him had eased, and even the orb seemed to sense his momentary peace, its energy dimming as if it, too, had curled up for the night.

"Oh Gods," he thought, the embarrassment flooding in like a tide. He turned over, pressing his face into his pillow, his cheeks burning with shame. Was this really what it would take to keep the pain at bay?

An orgasm?! Was that the solution he had been desperately seeking? The idea was almost too absurd to entertain, yet the evidence lay in the calm that now settled over him. He couldn’t allow this to be the answer.

An alternative had to be found, and quickly. 

[twi-liight]

Sooo. You just posted Petty Jealousy 20 mins ago and I just wanted to say that I loveeee itttt. Can we please have more? Like Astarion and the other companions subtly do somethings to the person they’re jealous of to turn them away from Tav.

Tav’s companions are just sooo cutee when they’re jealous. Wyll and perhaps, Halsin being the only sensible ones.

Thank you!

Red With Envy ❣

The YA love heptagon of the century: Tavrem. ❥ Astarion/Tav, Gale/Tav, Lae'zel/Tav, Companions/Tav. It's Gale/Astarion if you squint. ❥ They/them pronouns for Tav. ❥ Tav is the nickname for the reader/oc insert. Their real name is up to you! ❥ PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Astarion would never beseech himself to touch a member of the working class, but things change. People change. And here he is draping an arm around Gale’s shoulders to boldly declare his presence upon the rickety, wooden table. 

“Oh.” Blink blink. Gale gawks with round eyes, then not-so-discreetly glances away from Astarion’s heavy gaze to the only present company at the table: salted bread with thick slices of white cheese, anchovies, and sop for the bread. This sorry excuse of a presentation must be breakfast, which begs the question- Is Gale’s blood so blue that he cannot skip a meal or is he trying to make a favorable impression? 

Astarion would much prefer the former. It means he does not need to scrub his hands raw from the filth of peasants after this interaction.

“Uh, good morning, Astarion.” 

“Mm?” He flashes his fangs to grin. “A good morning indeed, my friend. How lovely the dawn breaks over the horizon, but with no one to share the scenery with! I pitied you, and out of the kindness of my heart, opted to join you.” 

Alright, enough touching. Astarion draws his arm back to poise a curled hand beneath his chin, glancing over Gale’s face in a vain attempt to study him. “Well-combed hair. Your posture,” he raises his hand to gesture at the wizard, “is much cleaner than yesterday. You’re practically glowing with morning dew, and…”

Here, he leans forward, just enough so that his nose lingers on the curve of Gale’s neck, just so his hot breath hits his skin as he murmurs, “You smell like Tav.” 

This greedy bastard slept in their tent last night because he caught some sickness from meandering about gaseous spores, and Tav cannot ignore the needy. Would that Gale be some beggar on the road and not an accomplished wizard with a higher emotional maturity than he.  

Astarion would be more comforted if he was a one night stand, a quick romp for the leader of their party to take the edge off. But anything beyond that is sabotage for his best-laid plans. 

Astarion’s smirk curls as deep, roiling darkness tug at his mind. He leans back slowly, never breaking eye contact. “They let you sleep in their tent. What a darling.” While they slept by the fire, ash and dirt swirling in their hair, Gale was embraced in Tav’s blankets and scarves. The lingering scent of something floral sticks on his skin, and Astarion recognizes it as the oleander Shadowheart presented Tav a fortnight ago. 

Gale smells something else: rusty and metallic, like the smell of a storm brewing. Has Astarion’s eyes deepened in color, like wine? His tongue feels heavy in his mouth all of a sudden. “Yes,” he agrees, thinking of Tav for some semblance of comfort. “I was sick, and they offered their tent for the night. More blankets, they said. Easier to be warm in - look, Astarion, do you have a problem with my friendship with Tav?” 

The laugh that pushes its way forcibly out of his sneering lips is sharp and mocking. Something burns in his chest, and it feels like seething anger. “My, that’s a strong word. I would say acquaintance is more befitting of your,” Astarion gestures to Gale once more, fighting back a scowl, “station. You’ve known Tav for barely a few months - they’re not quick to brand just anyone as a friend.” 

“Is that right?” Gale’s brown eyes spark with challenge. What a doll. Finally got his spine. “I ought to wonder how you befriended them, then. Anyone with half a mind knows your shenanigans are acts of desperation; you want them to like you so you can manipulate them. I know your type, Astarion.” 

“And you… You, what, you are not? You’re using Tav just as much as I am, darling. Otherwise, what are you here for? Companionship? Ha!” Astarion does not know why, but his entire being is alight. As if the sun’s rays are scorching him. He can barely contain his temper, barking out between sharp teeth, “Get a grip.” 

Gale is hardly fazed. “You’re delusional. Whatever threat you think I present to you?” He lifts his chin, eyes alight with power and rage. “Confront it. Dig your grave. Lie in it. While you’re busy lurking in the shadows, waiting for the opportune moment to dance them around your little games, guess where I will be?” 

Silent, seething anger. It burns. Astarion’s eyes are blown wide with rage as he gazes into Gale’s eyes, digging his nails into his palm as his fingers wrap around the hilt of his dagger. 

“There to catch them when they realize everything you’ve done is just an act.” Gale leans forward this time, a warning blazing in his brown eyes. “Think whatever you wish of me, Astarion, but never in your life think I would never fight for those I cherish.” 

Cherish. Astarion almost sinks his teeth in his throat to shut him up. “Good,” he purrs, fighting every urge not to massacre Gale where he sits with his dingy little breakfast. “I would be sorely disappointed if you succumbed too easily to me.” 

This would be so much easier if Astarion didn’t care about losing Gale, either. If he must concede, Astarion can admit to himself and the Devil alone that Gale is beyond useful in battle. Herald of the Weave, Mystra’s little boytoy? He would be endeared to watch Gale’s story end. Whether it be in smithereens or in the bosom of his former goddess, it will be fun to watch. 

Something in the back of his mind gnaws at his anxiety that Gale will be the one to turn Tav against him. This pretty little fool never wanted him in the party, wary of him, which is the smart thing to do. Tav was not. Tav was too easy to trust him. To easy to ply around his fingers until he had them even offer up their blood. 

He resents Gale for making space in their heart. It could have been his. 

“The dawn rises as I do: strong, and watching over two bread boys exchanging heated words like knives.” Lae’zel’s voice, sleek and smooth, startles them. Gale visibly jolts away from his proximity to Astarion’s face, brown eyes widening as Lae’zel approaches the table. She takes one gander at the spread, grabs a fistful of anchovies, and shoves it down her mouth without care. 

“You,” Gale stammers. “That was for–” 

“Silence. Githyanki must feed well to prepare for the new day. I will not hear your incoherent mumbling, wizard.” Lae’zel at least has the decency to chew with her mouth closed. She gulps the food, grips her fingers around Gale’s mug of watered down wine, and downs it with a tilt of her head. 

Astarion pouts. “We were having a moment, dearest Lae’zel. Now, I love to tease Gale as much as you, but it is my turn to press on Gale’s pretty little nerves until he explodes. He does not need to be,” he flares a hand out to Lae’zel, who is still downing the disgusting concoction with impressive concentration, “hounded.”

Gale looks confused. Astarion thinks that is not a state he often experiences. “Thank you?” 

And now he’s grateful? Astarion regrets his string of words in the last five seconds. They should go back to fighting.

Lae’zel slams the mug down on the table, perishing the rest of Astarion’s train of thought. She wipes the drink from her lips with her arm, thinks for a second, then nods, resilience plain in her expression. “I must warn you: distractions outside of our goal will be our end. I will not fail to cut either of you down if you produce disappointing results. However.”

There’s a ‘however’? Gale and Astarion exchange a glance, the animosity between them gone, replaced with more confusion. “I think you may be misunderstanding,” Gale begins. “Astarion and I-” 

“You two are lovers,” Lae’zel says with the confidence of a thousand burning suns. Astarion has never wished for that to be more true. He wants to be eviscerated where he sits right now because he cannot pick up his jaw from the ground. 

Gale looks like he just swallowed a rat. Like he is seconds away from throwing up. He needs a moment, experiencing vicious whiplash from wanting to kill Astarion to now, wanting to kill Lae’zel. “You— huh.”

“I support this companionship,” nods the githyanki sagely. 

“You are a bloody fool.” 

“No. I am efficient. Two of my enemies have been wiped off the playing field, which means there is less competition.” Hands on her hips, Lae’zel looks at the campgrounds proudly. “Make love to each other loudly.” She jerks her head over her shoulder, a sneer twisting her sharp features as she looks at them. “Try to drown out my name from Tav’s lips tonight, for I will be taking their hand and heart.” 

No fucking way. An oversight on his part. How could he have been so blind? Of course Tav is desired, not just by him or Gale, but by everyone else in the damn camp! This is much more troublesome than he realized. Fine, then. He should prioritize the rational thinkers like Wyll, Gale, Shadowheart and– oh, Karlach. Not darling Karlach. She would never turn Tav against him, would he? 

Fine. Halsin and Lae’zel can go first. 

“Momentary truce?” Gale offers. 

“You read my mind, handsome. Lae’zel, darling! Come back over here - we just want to talk.” 

❥ Additional links: kofi | ao3