i wanna keep hannibal lecter on a leash but like not in a kinky way just to have as a little house mouse but like, in a leash - only i fear he’ll enjoy that and that’s not the vision i’m going for :/
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The hoes asked for more virginity kink Aether, with a side of corruption kink, and honestly I fully blame @iamthecomet because of that fucking Aether/Phantom fic from a while back (comet you know what you DID!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I haven't been okay and or normal since.)
I made a post a long while ago about Alpha being Aether's first, just had to take the fresh quint after seeing him so painfully and obviously lusting after Omega for so long. Had to dangle every filthy detail he knew about his mate over Aether's head. It's Alpha's fault he's like this, taking such visible glee in pushing Aether into every new feeling. His new vessel is so sensitive, so unexplored, and he tells him as such.
Aether realizes it with Dew, when he moans into his mouth and flinches from his big hand palming at him through his slacks. The feeling is surprising and it confuses him, Dew looked like a deer in headlights that day - flushed and panting, straining and leaking in his boxers, brows pinching upwards as he stares back at Aether. The naivety in his pale blue eyes makes something dark and sick claw at the back door of his mind, a beast fighting for its way in to wreak havoc on the water ghoul trapped between his body and the wall.
He shushes the surprised whimper Dew questions him with, the doubt muffled in a kiss fueled by greed. A desire to take what can never be given back.
Promises of 'I'll take care of you' 'I know exactly what you need', and 'you'll feel so good' to soothe away hesitation. The final nail in the coffin is when he squeezes Dew's cock and begins to stroke him through the suffocating fabric, his little body twitching and reacting without his permission as Aether whispers 'you trust me, don't you droplet?' Dew's dick jumps in his hand and he knows he has him even before the shaky, feeble nod.
The first time is intoxicating. He wishes he could defile Dew's innocence over and over and over. Dew indulges him sometimes, plays demure and sweet the way he once did genuinely. It scratches the itch for the most part - Dew is a good actor after all.
But sometimes the greed rears it's ugly head.
Aether tries to keep himself in check but it's hard. All the siblings he passes in the hallways reeking of virtue yet to indulge in the most pleasurable cardinal sin. His teeth itch to become acquainted with all of that unsullied flesh.
The hardest, most strenuous test of his will is when they bring the new summons to him after their arrival. Still unaccustomed to their bodies, moving awkwardly and carefully like they don't quite understand why every part does what it does. He's tasked with assuring they're healthy, that nothing went awry in their arrival, and of course he does. It's his top priority after all! He's been professional each time but his mind wanders on him, that he can't help.
He eyes the warm untouched body with a hunger that none of them pick up on at the time. New summons hold no shame, no learned sense of modesty yet, unknowingly teasing him with every inch. There have been a few times he's dared an inch too far, brushing softened cocks in passing or kneading more than necessary at breasts under the excuse of examination. Makes his heart race and his body ache with desire, horribly aware of the way his dick sticks to his thigh, a feeling becoming more uncomfortable by the second.
The second they are whisked away Aether is fumbling with his zipper. Growling as he tugs at himself, hunched over his desk with a hand flat to the surface, nails digging into the wood. The idea is wrong and he should be ashamed for wanting it but all Aether can do is want.
He wanted to take them, all of them. Introduce their bodies to addicting sensation. Mold their wants to align with his own as they simply don't know any better.
Aether knows the position he's in, how trusted he is, and truthfully it only makes the desire to corrupt more voracious.
He spills into the waste basket with a groan, and the beast is satiated briefly with fantasy, but for how long it will remain that way he can't tell.
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UNCLE NINA WRITES WEIRD JK STAN LETTERS!
hello benevolent angel people!
( because you're wonderful but bc you're doing gods work by supporting my dead fanfic from hell. c:’ )
so this is a lil...experimental? but bc i've been dabbling on that one ask large lore ask that set before kyle knows raven of crimson dawn is his stan, i've gotten very attached to writing the silly jersey letters to dead stan in his journal again. ( again, nina lore is that it's what a friend had me do when my first cat passed away.
i still write to her. <3 )
but this is just something i wrote to get back into the habit of writing again. i put it on docs and i used a font which...okay? tbh, i think looks exactly like i want jk's handwriting to look. like its very swirly, he is my calligraphy king. i didn't proof it bc i just wrote...all of it tonight like a weird crazy person.
also i realize jk sounds...a lot like me
— but he Is me, tbh?
like in some facets i did give him lil pieces of myself so he could grow into an uber tall thicc as hell academic hot jersey talk shit get hit boy.
( i also do think he's a lot goofier with stan in his little letters esp since he doesn't think that anyone is going to read them they are just his lil vent space. let it out king! )
as for the timeline...i think it's pre!rm bonus content? like i dropped a little context about stuff that happened before the fic, but i think it's probably written anywhere in the last 1-2 years of rm before kyle went to that crimson dawn concert. i'm not sure what compelled me to write it i just...really like vulnerable jersey just being a jersey dirtbag but like kneeling by the stan shrine and asking for light.
speaking of...as far as triggers go. mostly the spelling is just bad, help, but jersey does talk a lot about stan dying and is very...distressed about it. he's also...really depressed and is not at the moment coping super well, but is reaching out for help. <3 always reach out for help when you need it. i didn't mention anything specific, but he does just mention thinking he's not a good person, feeling ugly, unworthy, lost, etc...TW FOR HIM BEING SO VULNERABLE AND CUTE ALSO.
he is...my secret loverboy prince.
he is my lo-...
my L-
anyways...ROLL CLIP!
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Thinking about how they say period sex creates a soul tie and now I’m not saying that it does but I will say that man won’t leave me alone.
Cw: period sex
Benkei is obsessed with you in general but also with fucking you when you’re on your period. It’s an obsession of unhealthy levels. He says it’s because it’s easier to fit himself inside of you, he doesn’t have to use protection, and it’s good for your cramps and you know he just wants to be helpful and make you feel good… but something weird and strange is going on.
Strange as in you’ve realized he tracks your cycle, and always seems to have a free schedule that week. Weird as in, the underwear you wash and hang in the bathroom go missing more often than not and never seem to show up.
Most peculiar is his reaction when you are a few days late and then those few days turn into weeks and he waits, pacing and stalking and wondering if maybe you just don’t want to tell him when you’re on your period anymore. Is it not enjoyable for you? Are you suddenly turned off by it? He can do better, Keizo knows he can.
But that’s not quite it. When you tell him that you’ve taken multiple pregnancy tests and been to the gynecologist he is in shock. How could you be if he’s only ever cum inside when you were on your— oh God.
His heart aches with relief, gone are the worries of possibilities of you leaving him. You’re having his baby now, you’d be with him forever now.
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Earth entering it's mojoverse era.
it’s like the worst possible example of don’t create the torment nexus because Annie Nocenti was like “I have created the torment nexus which is a metaphor for various aspects of the american entertainment industry in the 1980s” and then the American entertainment industry over the next 40 years was “we are going to gradually evolve into the torment nexus!” first with the rise of reality tv and now with the advent of TikTok where literally everywhere you go is a reality tv set and you never know what’s going to end up on air. Ideologically I don’t agree with Peter David or Leah Williams but they both kind of went off with “you think you escaped the mojoverse? baby you’re soaking in it!” and mojoworld reimagined around streaming respectively
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👻 — communing with the paranormal matrix
Tough subject.
The Matrix tends to be weird, both in it’s clear though confusing origin and the fact it’s absolutely, 100%, not meant to be sentient, but it sort of is, even though Rodimus can’t quite explain why he thinks so without calling it a parasite. The Matrix whispered, and sometimes it sang, through dreams or even while awake. Rodimus wasn’t one to listen, so sometimes it became insistent, even when it had been only half of something useless in his chest.
When it first bonded, though, it was loud, and Rodimus had really thought he was going insane. Maybe he really was; maybe the experience had left more than just his chest damaged, maybe whispered prophecies and memories that didn’t quite belong to him were nothing but consequences of being brought back to life by a religious artifact. It’s scary thinking that dives too deep into Spectralist territory for his liking, so he chalks it up to his processor being just a little bit damaged, to accompany his spark.
Anyway, he didn’t communicate with it, even though it clearly tried to communicate with him. Rodimus had always been good at ignoring background noise, been specially adapt at ignoring the flaring pain in his chest. He has never been one to believe in ancient Gods and all-knowing ancestors to even try to listen, anyway.
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