#NEW MIND BOGGLING SENSATION

[that-one-xachster]

NO WAY DID I JUST SCROLL TO THE BOTTOM OF MY FOR YOU PAGE NO FREAKING WAYYYYYYYYY

[mattsfavbigtitties]

Taboo/ Matt S.

MASTERLIST TAGLIST

Warnings: dom/sub dynamics, corruption of innocence, priest kink, creampie, no protection, virgin kink,

Summery: After Sunday service, Father Matthew teaches you a new lesson you've never heard of.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

One afternoon, your mother comes into your room seeing you watch cartoons. She tells you that you need to focus more on the Lord and quit watching that mind boggling rainbow pony show all the time.

She repeats that next time at church, she'll have the new priest give you more insight on the oh so precious Lord above.

You reluctantly agree in spite of your mother running everything you do and don’t. That Sunday, your mother makes sure to bring it up to the new head priest, Father Matthew, about “possibly more lessons on the Bible” as she put it.

And of course(to your unfortune) he agreed to teach you some “very physically embracing readings”. A little suspicious if you ask yourself. You were well aware of most things in life.

Having looked at social media on school computers and using a friend's phone a few times. You knew basic knowledge like, sex ed and (most) bad things happening around other cities. You had a very curious mind which sometimes led you to some crazy encounters and punishments from your parents.

Soon enough, the end of service came; your parents and all the others said goodbyes to one another, leaving you with Father Matthew; alone.

“Come along to the back, dear.” Father made a wave of his hand toward himself to have you follow him, the other held his own Bible. He walks down the hallway to one of the back classrooms; you follow behind in small steps.

Your hands clasped together at your front, fiddling with your nails. In the room is a long rectangle table filled with chairs. You take a seat on one of the far chairs away from the door, Father Matthew grabbed something from within a drawer and sat beside you.

“Should I get a Bible?” You ask, moving slightly as you get up to grab said item. Yet Matthew’s arm stops you from getting up as he says, “No need, I’ve already got everything needed.” and sends you a mischievous smile.

He let his hand run across your white lace trim, feeling the slight tremble of your stomach as you scooch back a bit to get away from the wandering fingers.

“W-what are you doing?” “You know, you’re very beautiful, dear.” His eyes dart from your waist to your own eyes and he sees the anticipation build in them.

He smirks and proceeds to move his hand down further to your floral covered thigh. You swallow slowly, reaching both hands to cover Matthew’s in a way to stop him.

“Are we-not doing the lesson?” Your voice holds confusion mixed with surprise and happiness.

You weren’t really looking forward to spending this afternoon at church still with Father Matthew when your favorite show is hosting a new season that very night. You were very much excited for it!

“I have a different kind of lesson ready for you. It involves you bending over and lots of physical touch.” Your eyes widened at the words coming out of his mouth, Father Matthew’s mouth. You never would’ve thought you’d be in this predicament.

The new pastor of the very church you grew up in, wanting to essentially have sex with you? Or was this all a dream? You knew you had thought of Father Matthew as the most handsome man you’d ever seen, but was it really that deep you’d dream about him in this way?

And to think this would be the first man you’ve ever had to sleep with; if you agree of course. “F-father Matthe-” You get interrupted, “Just Matt is fine, sweetheart.”

You go on with your sentence, “Father Matt, what are you saying?” You want to make sure you heard him right and if so, you really would like to do it. And as you've heard from a few friends, it's feels very, very good. He chuckled at your furrowed brows and rubbed his thumb along the side of your thigh.

You clenched your thighs slightly to try and calm the tingling sensation between them, but enough to have Matt feel the movement.

“You know what I mean, dear. I want to fuck you. So hard that all you’ll feel for days is my dick reminisce.”

You gasp at his words.

You could hear your own heart pounding. For once in your life, you actually feel like your on fire. You feel your ears get hot and

And before you can said anything in response, he grabbed ahold of your jaw and pulled you in for a bruising kiss. His lips immediately moved against yours with a sense of urgency, as you let him take charge.

His hand tightened on your thigh and moved closer to your clothed sex. You melted into him, your body instinctively curling closer, jolts going through your spine. You had never imagined this would happen.

Never imagined you’d be kissing a man like this, let alone the priest of your church; Father Matt. It just felt so right.

He pulled back just enough to murmur against your lips, "Such a good girl. My gorgeous sweetheart."

Pressure building in your head as your blood pumped hard in your veins; you whimpered pathetically as Father Matt lapped at your drooling mouth.

Matt hooked his fingers underneath the hem of your dress, lifting it all the way to just below your tummy, revealing your bare skin and pale white panties with a bow at center. He chuckled in amusement at the cute display before standing up.

He pulled your body with him and shoved your front hips against the table as all you could do was stand in shock. "You want my cock, sweetheart? You ever felt one imside before?" His eyes trailed down your curves, rubbing his thumbs along your sides, sending chills across your back.

You hummed in acknowledgement and shook your head, "This will be my first one Father."

He hiked up your dress for a second time and hurriedly slid your panties to the side, his fingers digging into the fleshy parts of your ass.

Right then, Matt smirked as he rolled his kackis and boxers down his thighs just enough to slide his stiff cock out.

"A virgin Mary, huh." He stated from behind, misheivious tone to the infamous words.

He massaged his length against your opening, his mouth drooping open in awe of how tight you felt already. For a moment, the way his head grazed against your throbbing clit nearly intoxicated you enough to forget he was the(very handsome and good looking) priest.

Father Matt partially lined up his own throbbing length between your legs before thrusting it inside of you; no warnings.

Your scream echoed through the room you were in, not expecting such brutal force from such nice man. Though you do know the saying 'don't judge a book by its cover'. In this case, you should've.

The room became seemingly filled with the sounds of your sex, echoing back to you off of every surface. The very walls of the house of God you worship.

His hands wandered up to your prominent, bulging chest. He squeezed and prodded before finally tugging down your bust area along with your bra cups.

He flicked your nipples ambitiously getting multiple whines and whimpers falling from your plush lips with jerks of your hips back against him.

Matt raised a single hand to your mouth, concluding your loudness was just a bit too loud. You clawed at the wooden table as you let your screams muffle into Father Matt's hand.

"What if someone were to come in, slut? Ohh, I bet you'd like that huh? Want someone to catch sweet little 'ol Y/n, the oh so innocent church girl, fucked so deep in the guts she doesnt even know what's happening." The sensation of Matt's cock sliding against your walls rapid was so intense that you started to crawl away from him.

He clawed your hips, pulling you back hard onto him. "Where you running to, dear? Is my dick that good you can't handle it?" He said, refocusing his thrusts to hit that special spot once more.

Mere seconds away from a new feeling coarsing through your lower half, Matt ceased his thrusts and pulled away, leaving you out of breath and starving for more.

His fingers gribbed your hips and-not so gracefully-flipped you around so you were sat on the table, legs spread wide with him in between. He continued on and lined his cock up once again to your aching cunt, shoving his whole length as deep as your pussy aloud him to.

You could barely release a breath as your walls stretched around the strange but pleasured feeling. Your body moved in small jerks as you became accustomed to his size again.

His hand drifted curiously down your mound, brushing over your slicked lips that seemed to open and welcome him in. "You're my best girl, right sweetheart? Gonna cum for me? Your first ever orgasm, pretty. And it's all for me." Your breath sputtered at the foriegn feeling as his fingers explored how wet you were for him in such limited time, playing with your clit, rubbing side to side until your thighs began to shake.

"Uh! Uh-huhhh, 'm gonna-yeah" You gulped out.

Almost as if your orgasmic feeling from before was simply put on hold for only seconds, the way Father Matt's dick prodded at your g-spot had you quickly moaning and begging for more of whatever pleasure you could get.

Your legs shook violently, your combined wetness squelching between your thighs, as your orgasm pulsed over you in quakes, washing you in a mix of chills and warmth as your legs shook in tremors of glorious pleasure you really never thought you'd ever feel.

A tear streamed down your cheek as his dick practically consumed all the air from inside your lungs. He reach a hand to wipe a single tear off your flushed pink cheeks as he chuckled and watched your face contort in numerous different expressions. Most of pure joy and pleasure.

Father Matt started pounding you so good that your eyes rolled to the back of your head, the weight of your head lolling back and forth on each of your shoulders.

He devoured you whole with his dark, lustful gaze. Your mind slipped away into the intense mix of pain and pleasure you felt from his heavenly dick, absolutely stretching you to your final limit.

”L-love this! Cumming, Father!" You eyes squeezed tightly together, hips rotating up and down, wanting impossibly more friction against your clit.

At these words, Matt rolled his hips more intensely. You cried out, unable to move as his body weight pinned you down. Elbows on the table around your head. His groans became loud and unsteady as your tightness and clenching sucked him right back in.

"I'm gonna cum." He groaned into your neck, his teeth grazed your sensitive, flushed skin.

He held you tightly against him as he pumped his full load into you, painting your insides with his sticky liquid.

Soon after, Matt pulls out and cleans both of your bodily fluids up as you starighten out your dress and wipe away any tear tracks.

"Why don't I take you home, dear?" Father Matthew smiled kindly, advancing his hand for yours.

You grinned back, lacing your fingers with his.

"As long as we can do it again, Father Matt."

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Taglist: @riowritesitall @conspiracy-ash @huhmiya @matt-2002fan @ericshoney

[jinkiezzsstuff]

TYSM FOR THE LADY GAGA FIC!!!!

I have another song fic request...

Alastor (or anyone else really lmao) has to find reader in order to patch up like a deal or smth idk and he finds them in this jazz club thing performing on the stage to 'Noel's lament' from 'ride the cyclone'? Like she's draped across a piano singing abt when she was living she was nobody but in her dreams she was this absolute femme fatale and alastor just watches her from the back of the crowd??

So niche but I was thinking abt it all night

Lots of love 🤍

i actually loveeee this song eeeee i’m so happy to do this, and i am so glad you liked the last one it means so much to me teehee sorry this took awhile i’ve been busier lately but i hope you enjoyed this, maybe i’ll do a part two but if i do it may be real delayed until i clear my plate lol!

song referenced; noel’s lament

warnings: implied to be succubus reader but their not really to standards of succubus, i don’t believe there are feminine pronouns here but there are certain feminine things (dress wearing, feminine terms like suductresd etc), no psychical descriptions of reader as per usual, minor gore and death, reader is sneaky and slipper, alastor is weird about love as he should king, but he still feels emotion, possible cringe parts idk it’s a songfic and sometimes they can be 50/50. LMK if i missed any!

word count: 2.7K

You had a debt to pay, you had to have known this. Alastors mind reeled as he toyed with the pen in his hand, occasionally scribbling nonsense down as he thought. You were always quite the slippery sinner, never being tied down to one place in the pentagram, but this was just ridiculous. Since he’d been back, and warmed up to the hotel, he’d been searching for you, but no sign. No demon has said a word about you either had he still been in touch with Vox he may have had you found by now.

You weren’t dead, and that’s as much as he knew; he would’ve felt your souls absence if you’d died, the fickle fun of making such contracts. There was little he knew about you personally, he new superficial things but nothing that would give him a clue on where you’d hide, a silly mistake on his part. He knew Mimzy would be were the cash or party was, Husk wherever there was a gamble and Nifty, well, normally she never strayed far anyways. As for other souls they were about the same in simplicity, whether they were murderous or cannibals they always had something keen to them that would lead him to where they were.

Alastor failed that with you, unfortunately he’d found himself a little at loss with you, in more ways than one you boggled his mind. He was used to women and men alike hitting on him or being incredibly provocative, but there was some way you did it that made him speechless. Not like when Angel would hit on him, where Alastor felt that sensation of being caught off guard with disgust and shock. No, on the night you made the deal, you were stalking around the back of his sofa inside his radio tower, your hands caressing his shoulders as you passed, sweetly and mischievously offering a pleasurable favour in return for his help. That was something else, that was unique to you.

He still recalls the memory as if he was still right there on the couch, engulfed in your scent, entranced by your siren-like voice, it made him hot under the collar and tight around the waist. Thankfully Alastor was a gentleman and a businessman and there was no way you were getting out of a soul contract through some silly sexual favours. It was definitely trying to keep his composure as your lidded eyes watched his lips move, but he managed as he always does. The deal was fairly boring on your part- you wanted to be his friend.

Red flags appeared in Alastors mind about the validity of that but shook on it nonetheless, however that was all before he disappeared. He’d not held up his end of the bargain but then again neither did you; you didn’t show when he called on you to the hotel and try as he may, couldn’t seem to summon you the way he could with Husk.

Dropping the pen, Alastor stood from his seat and shadowed into the floor, stalking out the window like a snake. Alastor decided a little stroll couldn’t hurt, after all his mind couldn’t rest and perhaps he could happen upon you out in sin city. Alastor enjoyed his time walking, humming and basking in all the horrors that happened around, however he grew bored fairly quickly, and decided to take a detour into Mimzy’s favourite joint.

Alastor walked in like he owned the place and seated himself at the bar waiting for his dear friend. “Mimzy dear, how’ve you been?” Alastor spoke out excitedly and loudly, catching the attention of his fellow demon who had appeared from the back of the bar. Mimzy squeaked and ran up to Alastor on the other side of the bar, shooing off the other demons trying to pull at her, the trim of her dress flying in all directions as she hopped and scuttled. “Alastor! What brings ya here, big man? Coming for a dance?” His smile was indifferent as she spoke but he was quite pleased to see the doll, someone of routine. He watched the demon plop herself down on the seat beside him, his hand fiddling with the whisky in his cup that he magicked up. “Yes dear, afraid I have quite the slippery soul in my hands.”

With both elbows on the table Mimzy leaned in, an excited smile on her face. Alastors head fell to the side, sighing at her desire for gossip, Alastor pushed up his monocle and explained the situation with you briefly. He probably went into too many details about how you looked, or smelt, or perhaps how he thought of you in his absence because the whole time Mimzy was coy and giggles. “Wow Al, sounds like you’re carryin’ a torch for this gal’,” Mimzy teased, walking her fingers across the table in his direction. Alastor stiffened at that watching her do her silly tease wide eyed. What a juvenile thing to assume, that he had feelings for some sinner. “Mimzy, don't be ridiculous!” Alastor scoffed grin still present as he threw his limp hand her way, head tossed back. “There’s no such thing! Besides she’s nothing more than some sensuous succubus, it’s what those types of demons do. Seduce.”

Crossing her arms Mimzy let out a flat ‘mhm’ clearly not convinced by what was being said. “Well Al, tell ya what! You have my back next time some nasty loan sharks come, and i’ll tell ya where your pretty seductress is.” Alastors nails tapped against the table rhythmically as he silently pondered, it’s not like he’d say no to her, just as she wouldn’t say no to him. Fixing his posture from his more lesuride position, he agreed with a nod, gulping back the last of his liquor.

-

This club Alastor stepped into was very reminiscent of a wealthy man’s speakeasy, something that was nestled safely in the depth of the pentagram in an unassuming alley, as if it were hiding from something or someone. It was nostalgic for him, in a sickening way, Alastor didn’t enjoy remembering mortal life as it seemed so detached from him and who he is now. His red eyes danced across the room manically, his static following in suit with every glance he gave. Searching for his little succubus. Low amber lighting, that stuffy smell of smoke in the air, the velvet chairs, surrounding chatter and the piano playing smooth jazz; Alastors body subconsciously relaxed into the familiar environment, as much as he hated his mortal life there were such aspects like this he missed.

He dragged himself inside and sat in a red velvet chair, immediately he slumped onto the table, his elbows on the table, his chin rested on his hand while the other toyed with the fire from the candle, bringing it up, around, and high and low. His eyes dragged over to the stage as the piano rifted into a new tune, the lights in the room dimming and brightening toward the stage. Inwardly, Alastors frustrations imploded making his skin hot and his antlers grow in size; all the light to see you with now focused on the stage for a performance he couldn’t care less about.

Standing to his feet, Alastor gripped his microphone like it was his life line. With a strained smile he began towards the door as the music began, and a voice started introducing themselves and talking about their dreams, however he was too busy being frustrated, and scanning the room for you to fully pay attention to the voice. That was until- “A hooker with a heart of black charcoal.” A breathy voice finally sang out, grabbing the attention of Alastor as he neared the exit. Freezing the static sounds of radio station channels sounded out from him, his eyes widening at the sound of you.

Turning abruptly on his heel, he looked over the crowd of seated heads and at the stage where you were walking on. There was a light focused down on you as you slunk out from behind a curtain furthest from the piano. Straightening his back, Alastor slipped into the shadows and behind a pillar near the bar, just to wait for you of course, to come off. “I write poems to burn by fire light, drink champagne and guzzle gin, good girls call me ‘The Town Bicycle’- don't knock it til you’ve tried my life of sin,” Alastor watched enchanted as you dragged your heels across the stage as you sung, making your way over the piano with seductive grace, something Alastor wasn’t used to being so hooked by.

“Oh, Claude, my pimp knows neva mess with me,” Your voice, once serene and beautiful now, was demonic and harsh, capturing the audience's attention. “Last prick did that faded quick to black,” Like a switch your voice returned to its sweetness, your arms outstretched just slightly, fingers twinkling to emphasise the ‘fade’ you sang of. Alastor couldn’t look away from how you manuerved your body, how your voice carried through the room, and how the lights sparkled against your jewellery. You were a sight for sore eyes as you teasingly brought yourself closer to the piano, that regular soft bedroom look in your eyes. “I have no idea where to find him officers,”

Alastors brow quirked at that, as your hands came up to cup your face with false naïveté. “But if you do, please mention that I’d like to have returned that pretty knife, that I stuck, ten. times. in his, back!” You grit out, sweet façade falling once more making Alastors tail wag, unbeknownst to him. There was something about the way you pulled and pushed the narrative in the song that made him antsy, excited even, and the fact that this was something you stated you dreamed to be, meaning whilst alive you dreamt of killing, of being bad, oh that made Alastors blood rush.. You waltzed around as you continued to sing the lyrics to the chores, Alastors eyes watched closely as you slithered your body effortlessly up onto the piano.

It was like you were made for performing, singing, and he had the brief fantasy of you in his studio singing on air, sat on his lap as you sung through his microphone for the folks of hell to hear, but he pulled himself out of it quickly, scolding himself for indulging in silliness. Now your body was draped across the obsidian piano that shone the reflections of the light, you sat on your hips, legs folded behind you, hands over your heart. “He said ‘I think I am in love with you’- I’ve heard that lie a million times before,” Your posture fell slightly as did your tone, it seemed that there was some truth and sombre in the lyrics you sang, and in a way Alastor felt like he could relate to that; after all what even was love?

It made him feel weak to pity you, to attempt to empathise with your pain, but there was barely any time to think about his thoughts because just as he did, you’d recapture his attention entirely. “Oh, tonight I give into the fantasy,” Your head fell back, sorrow in your tone as your hand caressed your shoulder, pulling down the strap of your dress. “Take love when you can, when you’re a whore.” After a silent moment the chorus picked up, as did you, sliding yourself off the piano and dancing around with a smile. Unfortunately Alastors mind lagged behind, something was just too vulnerable in the way you sang about love, and considering it wasn’t something he often thought about, it peaked his curiosity just slightly.

It wasn’t until the end of the performance when you sung about your death that Alastors attention zeroed back in on you, his eyes catching yours as the song fell out, your head turned in his direction. He watched as your eyes widened and mouth fell slightly ajar before you sang out one last word: a ‘hey’ coincidentally directed toward Alastor. After that the lights on stage shut off instantly, and the crowd applause began.

Alastor watched you be dragged off stage by two larger demons through the darkness, your legs flailing as your arms were restrained, at the sight the purpose of him being here returned. Pushing himself off the pillar he was leant against, he brushed himself off and straightened the crimps in his pants, before picking up his microphone and making his way towards where you’d been dragged. It was a cruddy little backstage area, he’s under the assumption the performers here weren’t treated as kindly as the guests. Throwing the door open he was greeted by the sight of you, the two demons who dragged you off, and some other third one.

You sat on an ottoman in the middle of the room, your entire essence changed as you curled into yourself, your head hung low. Humming, Alastor adjusted his monocle. “Am I interrupting something?” Oh how Alastor loved to play dumb, he watched the third demon, seemingly imp, stand straight anger evident and radiating off of him. “Yeah you really fuckin are red, get outta here now.” The imp barked throwing his hands up in a shooing motion. Your eyes met Alastors, begging silently to stay. “I’m afraid i can’t do that you silly lug,” Alastor tutted joyfully stepping into the room throwing his microphone around like it was a toy. His shadows crawled out from beneath his feet, sneaking up the walls and across the ceilings making the three men anxious. “This little canary happens to me mine, soul and all.” His voice shifted to a more demonic one as the hues in the room shifted.

You sat speechless, watching the mysterious deer defend you after seven long years of being on hold with him. You were surprised he came at such a time, convenient for you. The two muscle demons were quick to puff their chests and step toward Alastor, but before they could properly swing, tentacles emerged from the shadows gripping the torso and hips of the men and pulling them in two. The screams were horrific, and the sounds of squelch and ripping nearly made you yourself sick, however it did the job for the littler imp as he immediately caved. “Oh okay okay, alright buddy, take the siren, no problem take em! Go!” The imp stressed while pulling you from your seat and toward Alastor hurriedly.

You stumbled against his pushing and found yourself falling accidentally into Alastors arms, tripping over your own heel. Alastor caught you without even looking down, arms wrapping instinctively around you as he glared at the imp with a smile. “Oh good, I would have hated to have caused a scene! Ha ha.” Alastor laughed humorously, although he was the only one finding any joy from this as the imp cowered away from the two of you. Pulling you closer to his body, Alastor fell into the ground with you, your body feeling freezing and damp for a moment before normalcy returned.

You didn’t realise you had your hands over your eyes until you felt Alastors hands grip your wrists, and pull your hands away. You blinked up at him before glancing around the room, it was indeed a room, one you’d never seen. “We're at the Hazbin Hotel dear, time for you to see to your deal.” Alastor said calmly, his tone even and his voice soft, his even his static was at a minimum. “Of course,” You say clearing your throat and backing up from his grasp. He didn’t fight against your distance, letting his arms fall and wrap behind his back as they normally would. “Why did you help me back there? I mean you could’ve just poofed us away?” You ask, rubbing the places on your arms where the demons dragged you.

“Why, thats what friends are for my dear! That was our deal, no? To scare off the threats and protect each other?” Alastor coyly hummed, bending slightly at the waist. Looking down slightly you nodded, hands coming up to sit on your waist. Sighing you shook your head, you should’ve known that this would come back to bite you in the ass eventually. “Alright slick, what is it that i’m doing for you?”

[liittleemiixeer]

I started a new slot for hsr to play the voice of God's path, and it still boggles my mind how good the first episode of the book is. I gotta talk about it STAT

[long rant ahead warning!!]

After she wakes up in the estate and finds Cain sleeping in the living room—if you take the diamond option to "look at him"—she regards him with utmost detail.

Lane's train of thought in this scenario reveals a complex inner struggle with her identity and emotional state—appart from clear attraction. Her desire to provoke a response from Cain, despite knowing he's not human, just emphasises that Lane is grappling with a profound sense of detachment from her own humanity, yet she yearns to see it on others. Or on somebody she "cares" about, rather. Having emerged from the rift, we all know she feels that all humanity has been stripped away from her, leaving her emotionally numb and disconnected. So, by focusing on Cain's ethereal beauty and trying to evoke a human reaction from him, Lane is subconsciously searching for a connection to the emotions she feels she has lost.

These sudden sparks of emotion she feels—mostly fear—which she doesn't fully comprehend, just further symbolize the remnants of her human emotions struggling to resurface, despite her mind being clouded and confused. For that reason, the desire "to find human warmth in its (Cain's face) features" reflects her own longing to reconnect with her lost humanity, even if she doesn't fully understand it on a conscious level. She even lets Anna scold her in the cemetery after she escaped from the estate to go check her name on the memorial, claiming that seeing and feeling her anger is much better than receiving indifference.

Lastly, even though she suffers some sort of temporary amnesia and doesn't understand why she feels the way she does, she describes the sensations Cain awakes in her as "someone that captivates you no matter if you like them or not." Her amnesia didn't strip her from a natural feeling she clearly experienced in the past. A normal human experience.

So it's not like she forgot how to be human, she remembers the feelings but is unable to feel them the same way she used to anymore. In other words, Lane is not entirely devoid of emotions; rather, she is in a state of emotional dissonance, where her body still reacts on a primal level, but her mind is detached due to the traumatic experiences she has endured. These scenes portray Lane as a character who is desperately trying to reclaim some semblance of her former self, even as she navigates the alien and often hostile world she finds herself in.

[restwellsoon]

Off Tangent

Pairing: Todoroki Shouto x F!Reader x Kirishima Eijiro, minor Todoroki Shouto x Kirishima Eijirou

Summary: Girl math is thinking that you can take pro heroes Shouto and Red Riot at once when you can hardly take two fingers. Luckily for you, having a good romp doesn’t have to be as mind-boggling as algebra.

/ While Kirishima explored you with wonder over the new and unknown, to Shouto, he knew you well enough, knowing every place that made you ache. The redhead’s excitement was a reminder that though he shared you tonight, you were his tomorrow and the next.

Warnings: Double penetration (double vaginal), threesome, sexualizing their Quirks, light degradation, dom/sub undertones, temp play, praise kink, humor, fluff, established relationship, alcohol

Minors and blank blogs DNI!

Even if things weren’t adding up, you could hardly complain about your situation. The wet sounds of skin on skin and murmurs of praise made it all too easy to get lost in sensation. There shouldn’t have been anything more pressing to think about, only things to feel, and yet your mind still wandered, even if it was just for a moment. 

Tonight was unusual, no, maybe special was a better word for the occasion. Getting drinks with Shouto’s friends wasn’t outside of the norm. The bar beside your apartment was known for its discrete treatment of superpowered patrons, making it an easy choice for meet ups. You were used to seeing Momo and Midoriya, but they weren’t there tonight; both were tasked with the night patrol in their designated precincts. Instead, there was Bakugou who finally warmed up to you, and Kirishima who you hardly, if ever, saw. It was a rare occasion to see him with the group. Similar to Iida, his patrol route and schedule were often opposite of Shouto’s, so the redhead usually wasn’t present. At least Camie was there to fill the lull in any conversations.

“Hey beautiful!” She beckoned, drawing a few looks, mostly from an annoyed Bakugou. She slapped on the vinyl seat beside her–a special spot reserved for you.

Kirishima shot up, pulled out the chair, and even took care to push you in. You swore you felt a calloused sweep of fingertips across your shoulders, but Shouto’s lack of reaction convinced you that it was nothing. 

“A gentleman, isn’t he?” Camie commented before glancing at the blond to her side. “Unlike some people.” He grunted in response. It seemed that Camie was still bitter about their team-up a few months back. An allegedly careless Bakugou blasted too close to her scene, ruining her illusion, but more importantly her fresh blowout.

And it was nothing other than good food, good drinks, and good conversation until Bakugou was the first to go.

He smirked at Shouto before tugging a mask loop behind his ear–a sorry excuse of a disguise, really, since his trademark red eyes and blond hair were still visible.

“Moving up in the ranks just means that I’ll be busier. Might be awhile before I see you extras again.”

You winced at his cringiness. You still weren’t used to his manner of speaking, but Shouto wasn’t phased.

“I suppose that means that Midoriya will be busier than all of us.”

Stifling a laugh behind your hand, Camie and Kirishima diffused the situation with exaggerated ‘oohs’ and teasing.

“Luckily for you,” the redhead slapped his friend’s back, “Shou’s got ice for that sick burn.”

“Oof! Just take the L, Bakubro, and don’t say anything,” Camie sniggered, hooking her arm through his. “And to help you walk outta here with some dignity left, I’ll even walk with ya to the train station.” 

She flashed you a peace sign, “Gotta wake up early for a podcast interview overseas. Later, girlie!”

With only you, Shouto, and Kirishima left, you expected him to say his goodbyes as well, but instead he ruffled the back of his head before shoving his fists in his pockets, looking at you both with puppy dog eyes. “Well, shit, I didn’t expect the night to end this soon, unless…?”

You felt bad. Kirishima was just griping about how his precinct being understaffed due to some injuries. He’s been working overtime for three months now.

“It’s not like we have any plans for tomorrow,” you started, waiting for Shouto’s agreement. He nodded.

“Come over. Our place is right there anyway.”

Kirishima followed behind you, practically bouncing the entire way.

–

It was a dumb question yet you couldn’t help but feel flustered otherwise. Drawing the duvet up to your nose, you wondered why your boyfriend didn’t automatically know your answer. Daring to look at him, Shouto waited for your answer patiently. There wasn’t any way you could avoid this.

Swallowing nervously, you answered before trying to hide back into the blanket, “Obviously, it’s you.”

Tutting, he undid your work to push back a strand of hair that got in your face—a flimsy shield from his questioning. His movement pushed back the blanket too, and gooseflesh prickled your skin.

“You didn’t even know who I was when we met.” The corners of his mouth twitched upwards as he looked down at you with thick lashes. There wasn’t any offense in his voice, only amusement.

You argued back, “Did too. I just pretended not to know you. How could I act normal when one of Japan’s most eligible bachelors was approaching me?”

That heated hand strayed from your ear to the side of your neck, settling along its curve. “That’s a conversation for another time.” And you knew that your little comment wouldn’t be forgotten. “But really, who’s your hero crush? Everyone has at least one.”

Embarrassment and shyness crept up your chest and towards your cheeks, and you hoped that he couldn’t feel the difference. He could, he’d later tell you.

“Red Riot,” you finally admitted, before adding “it’s not like I’m a fan girl though!”

How could you ignore him when he was plastered all over your social media feeds? It’s not like you actively sought out all those posts about Red Riot either. Apparently the algorithm thought you hung out with thirsty motherfuckers–and it was true for the most part; officer workers needed some sort of eye candy to help them through the day–and decided to share their horniess with you.

Satisfied with your answer, he settled back into his spot beside you. “Maybe you have a thing for redheads,” he mused before asking if he should dye all his hair that color.

“Absolutely not!” You sat up in bed to prove your point, nearly knocking Shouto out in the process. “That’s part of your appeal! It’s like two different looks depending on the angle.”

Shouto didn’t need to hear anymore about how opposites attract and how his looks were the perfect embodiment of that, but if he kept teasing you like this, you were willing to steer the conversation in that direction.

His lips curved upwards, turning into an actual smile, the playfulness practically spilling from his mouth. It took you months into the relationship to recognize the slightest tells of his teasing. 

“Oh, so it’s like you have two boyfriends depending on which side you’re on?”

Your index finger dug into his chest. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it!”

Playtime was over. Your show was starting soon, and you’d prefer to be at ease in his arms instead of squirming for his amusement.

–

It was hard to take Camie seriously in general but even more so when she wagged her index finger around like a mother who knew best, pointing at the cushioned space between you and Mina.

“The best way to go about it is to find two randos to bone.” Finally her manicured nail landed on you as she advised that couples should hook up with someone they knew but weren’t close to. You weren’t sure why she looked at you with those eyes of certainty, as if they were silently begging you to know some secret. “If it sucks–in a bad way obvi–you probs won’t care if you tell  your third to get the bird.” She made a crude gesture with her hand.

Bottomless mimosas made sure that whatever arithmetic skills you had were gone for the day. What was the point of making things make sense when you were having fun?  The conversation kept ping ponging from couples to threesomes to the abysmal sex your friends were having while single. You laughed as Mina divulged in her latest date.

“Are you talking about the latest hero team ups?” Shouto’s voice called from the entry way before the door shut behind him.

His hair was damp, meaning that he must have showered at the agency. The occasional droplets that fell from his hair were enough to distract you from the conversation.

“Yeah,” Mina laughed, “somethin’ like that, Icy Hot.”

From the way you were eyeing him, it was clear that it was time for your friends to leave. She reached over to Camie, pulling her up, but the honey blonde wasn’t ready to leave until Mina gave her an obvious nudge. 

“Well, girly pop, we’ll leave you lovebirds alone for now!” She leaned in for a quick hug, “And don’t forget what we talked about!”

Shouto waited for them by the door to say a quick goodbye, making a comment about Midoriya keeping everyone updated on the latest duos and teams. It was informative, he told them,  encouraging them to sign up for the mailing list if they wanted to know more.

“Those ain’t the double teams we’re interested in, bub.” Camie giggled. “Thanks though. Alright–one last goodbye. TTFN, babes!”

As the click of their heels faded down the hall, you rounded on Shouto. Now that the initial stun of his good looks were gone, you were bold enough to tell him to drop the  oblivious act now that your friends were gone.

“What do you mean?” He smiled, leaning back against the kitchen counter.

You gave him a hard look, and he stretched out his arms in return.

With a huff, you went into his arms. It’d be easier to scold him up close anyway.

“Your PR manager can make you act as oblivious as you want in public, but I know that you heard everything we were talking about Shou.”

One of his hands slipped from your waist to play underneath your shirt. He might as well have gotten underneath your skin with the tone he was speaking in.

“Why were you talking about that anyway? Do you want to bring someone into our bed?”

Luckily for you, your bra unhooked while you answered, giving you a plausible reason for the hitch in your voice. “No–well, uh, yes, but um, Mina was the one to bring it up first! You know that she’s been single for a while, and Camie well, you know how she is…”

His pause was long as his fingers trailed up your spine. He hummed. “Well, alright. We can talk about this again when you’re less embarrassed.”

“You little shit,” you groused, “you’re not as innocent as you pretend to be.”

“Aren’t you happy that I’m only this way with you?” He leaned down.

Any intentions of acting out begrudgingly faded as the kiss led to more clothes on the floor and  urged steps towards the bedroom.

–

You were happy to have the help of alcohol to keep the conversation going. Shouto’s hand was heavy whenever he poured drinks, the habit worsened when he was even the slightest bit buzzed. They weren’t enough to send you over the edge, but you were in that sweet spot where everything tingled and had a pleasant haze. 

“Seriously!” Kirishima laughed. “You don’t have to be so formal with me.” It was probably the alcohol that was making your heart flutter when he said your name. “Kirishima is what my manager calls me when I’m in trouble. You can just call me Kiri.”

“Alright, Kiri,” you acquiesced, staring at your drink. At the time, you didn’t know that you’d be calling out that name all night.

–

You still couldn’t remember what sparked the conversation. Maybe a comment, a look, a laugh. All that really stuck out was a playful peck on the cheek that turned into a heated kiss with wandering hands. Kirishima’s red gaze was on you, but you didn’t mind it at that moment. 

His words stuck out as oddly shy from his usual manner of speaking. “Did you really mean that?”

The smoothness and confidence in Shouto’s voice surprised you and Kirishima too. “Don’t feel pressured if you don’t want to.”

When he said that he might not make it back to his place, Kirishima didn’t think you’d take his comment so seriously. “You can stay here tonight then,” you told him, only looking back at Shouto to see if it was okay after the offer. When he told him that he could stay in your bed too, Kirishima thought it was a classic case of Shouto being overly polite. He practically choked when he clarified that he meant in bed with both of you.

Never in his wildest dreams would he peg Shouto to be interested in something like this, but when he saw that nervous yet hopeful look in your eyes, he realized he was doing it for you. And maybe it was drunk logic, but what kind of friend would he be if he couldn’t help a friend in need?

“So what exactly do you want me to do?”

Shouto looked at you for the answer. Having both of their eyes on you made everything feel so real to the point that it was nearly sobering. You felt self-conscious as you rambled out your list of wants. Your glass was still half-full; it was difficult to look at either of them directly.

“I want both of you at once.”

“Where?” Kirishima asked.

Your pause clued Shouto in to what you wanted, and you swore you felt the pride swell in his chest when he told Kirishima that he’d show him where.

“I just want to feel good. I want to feel pretty and used but cherished. Does that make sense? Seriously Shou, don’t give me that look. This is embarrassing enough as it is. Is there anything you want?”

Shouto was straight-forward and simple as always. “Make her cum.”

To ease your nerves, he kissed you with sweetness, ending it with an affectionate peck on the lips and that softness in his eyes that always made you swoon.

You worked on removing each other’s clothes, and now with a groan of frustration and need, you realized that your liquid courage hadn’t left you completely. Your hands kept fiddling with Shouto’s pants.

“Need some help, sweetheart?” Kirishima asked from behind. Your heart nearly lept into your throat as his body pressed into yours. His desire brushed behind your thigh as his hand took your shaking one, guiding it in one smooth motion to pull down Shouto’s zipper, the last of his clothes finally falling to the floor.

“Thanks Kiri.”

“No prob, gorgeous.” 

You were close enough to hear the pull of his lips twist up into a smile, to feel his heated breath against your neck. Again, your hands stalled, awkwardly skimming Shouto’s chiseled hip.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” your boyfriend reassured you as he guided you onto your back. Shouto’s voice was an anchor, smoothly giving you commands. The couch was comfortable and felt familiar beneath your fingertips. He was right. It was okay to relax too. “Because we’re going to take care of you,” he promised. “We’ll make you feel good.”

It wasn’t difficult to admire either of them, but seeing them together was nearly too much stimulation for your eyes. Embarrassingly, you spent more time looking at Kirishima. Shouto’s body was familiar with his long, lean muscles and smooth skin. Kirishima was noticeably wider and thick with more fat padding the muscles beneath it. You didn’t dare to look at Shouto’s eyes. You both knew that you were staring.

Feeling a cold touch on your knee, your eyes finally met his. “I’m telling you to do this for us, love, not asking you.” His hand pushed your knee outwards. He wanted you to spread your legs. And you did, the change in Shouto’s tone making your heart flutter. 

When you were finally spread, you fought the urge to close them once more. Both men looked at your center intently. 

“I told you, didn’t I?” Shouto spoke to Kirishima. It was as if you weren’t there or couldn’t hear them. “Look at how pretty her pussy looks?” 

He nodded in agreement, saying that he couldn’t wait to taste you. Though he and Shouto had a similar directness in their speech, you felt shy towards his enthusiasm.

“Kiri!”

His tongue already lapped at your clit before licking a stripe downwards, sucking and tasting all of your wetness. The thick index finger he added earned another yelp, followed by a moan. After a minute of gentle prodding, he added a second finger.

“Nothing beats a wet and wanting cunt,” he pulled back to tell Shouto. The way he smiled at him was shameless, his lower lip and chin covered in saliva and your sweetness. Kirishima even demonstrated his point, moving his thick body aside so Shouto could see you. He scissored your hole, gave it a pump, and pulled out as quick as he could. The sounds were lewd as he fingered you lazily.

And the sounds didn’t go unnoticed by Shouto. He peered over Kirishima’s shoulder, leaning over to look as if he hadn’t seen your body before, as if he hadn’t felt it, before giving a pleased smile. While Kirishima explored you with wonder over the new and unknown, to Shouto, he knew you well enough, knowing every place that made you ache. The redhead’s excitement was a reminder that though he shared you tonight, you were his tomorrow and the next.

His eyes trailed up your hips, lingering at your heaving chest, before finally meeting your eyes. “So noisy,” he commented–whether it was about your pussy or your whimpers, you weren’t sure. Kirishima’s fingers were thicker and calloused from his training and Quirk. 

“She’s greedy,” he told Kirishima, “look how she keeps on whining for more.”

“Love,” he addressed you, “you can hardly take two fingers, but now you want three?” He smirked. “Soon you’ll be asking for two cocks at once.” Heat rose up your body, or was it the effect of Shouto’s hand on your thigh? He cocked his head at your embarrassment, using that tone you hated. “What? Isn’t that what you were asking for last night? Begging to have your pretty little pussy stretched by my cock and your toy?”

Kirishima perked up from his place between your legs, making a show of the wetness he wiped from his mouth. “Oh yeah? You took them both?” 

He didn’t know the size of your toy, but like everything else on Shouto, his cock was impressive–good proportions, cut, and a nice thick head that was drooling with pre-cum. His trimmed pubes and pink sack only highlighted it more.

“And she took them so well,” Shouto cooed.

Giving himself a quick pump to provide his cock some relief, Kirishima took Shouto’s words as a sign to add in a third finger. It already felt so tight, but the extra digit made you wetter as he continued his pace, this time slower because of the cramped space.

“Your boyfriend’s right, sweetheart,” he said. “You really know how to take it.”

If you just focused on the pleasure, it would be enough to send you over the edge. Kirishima kept bumping and nudging all the spots that made you jump, but it was Shouto’s soft coaching and Kirishima’s praise that would be the ones to push you over. Your toes curled as your breathing hitched, going and going and going until emptiness made you whine.

There were no fingers or Shouto’s hands on your thighs. The boys were talking to each other.

“Mind if I get her ready for us?”

“Be our guest.”

Maybe you were just sensitive or maybe you were annoyed, but the sound of Kirishima spitting was loud, as if it were some display of masculinity. The saliva pooled on the middle of his shaft and he made a show of rubbing it in.

His cock was thick like the rest of his body, not quite the length of Shouto’s but impressive nonetheless. What caught your eye in the haze of your edging were three rows of black beads, one on either end, sitting horizontally beneath his head. You wondered what needle was sharp enough to pierce his skin, then thought he did it without Quirk activation.

Red eyes followed yours before he gave you a wink. “Ribbed for your pleasure,” he joked. “You’ll get what I mean in a second.”

When he entered, your breath was stolen and held in your throat, holding it still until you felt his entirety inside you. Shouto moved to his spot behind Kirishima again, watching you take his cock. Kindly, Kirishima gave you a chance to breathe, pressing your legs back until they touched your shoulders. You thought he’d be positioning you for your comfort, but instead you felt every inch of him. The slightest readjustment made you feel the drag and pressure of his piercings.

“Don’t you look so pretty taking another man’s cock?” Shouto teased you from somewhere in the room. You couldn’t keep your eyes open, breathing focused so you wouldn’t cum just yet. You wanted to feel him fuck you, but the dark tone in Shouto’s voice was making you melt. You had to get a grip on yourself, but it was easier for both men to see that you were losing it.

“Play with her tits, Kiri,” Shouto told him. “Her nipples are sensitive.”

As masculine as Kirishima presented, it was surprising how well he obeyed. His weight pressed into you and the couch as he bent down to suck on your tits. Up close, he lingered for a brief second to watch their sway with the movement before starting with the left, then the right. 

The attention he gave them was nice, more than that, it was delicate as he sucked and nibbled on them. Perhaps you were too used to Shouto’s amusement as he used his Quirk to harden them, giving them a rough pinch to help you cum. It was clear that multi-tasking wasn’t his forte though. His thrusts were shallow. 

“I need to cum,” you finally whined. Between his body and yours, you were able to sneak a hand to your clit, rubbing to get what you were owed.

“You heard her, didn’t you?”

Kirishima’s will power was always one of his more noteworthy traits. It was something your co-workers swooned over. You were learning just how strong it was in a different way though. His movements were rough and shaking the couch. You made a note to yourself that you’d later forget: realign it with the rug. 

The man was talking more to himself than you or Shouto, mumbling about your tightness. His words were clearer when you came. His cock was out–a smart move or else he would have joined you. Continuing to rub it, it was sleek with your juices. “I can’t wait to feel how tight you are when Shouto and I are fucking you.”

Like a rag doll, you let them reposition you as they pleased, still chasing the waves of your orgasm. They buried your face in the cushions as Kirishima pulled your hips up and behind. Your pussy felt tighter when he entered you again. This time your breath was still with you.

“We need to make sure you’re prepped for us.” Shouto’s voice was disembodied and distant again.

Kirishima’s voice was distant too. You were sure if his voice was heavier from the work he was doing or his need to cum. “I’m gonna add a few fingers in, okay? If it’s too much, just tell me. If it’s not enough, beg for more.”

He was true to his word, adding in the first and second digits slowly. “It feels good,” you reassured him.

“Not good enough,” he huffed. He felt your pussy fluttering around his cock and fingers, but you weren’t quite where he wanted you. Kirishima wanted to hear you cry out his and Shouto’s names. He wanted you cock-dumb and slutty where you could only speak in whines.

When you were cumming for the second time tonight, Shouto decided you were ready. Again, they moved you around since you were useless.

“Do you want me to suck your cock?” You asked your boyfriend. Everything was hazy, this time from sex instead of alcohol.

“Nah, I got him,” Kirishima said. That will power of his kept his cock hard and begging for a break. You were surprised he didn’t cum inside you.

His fingers were glossy from their time inside you, and he used that wetness–your wetness–to slick up Shouto’s cock. It was a couple of skilled jerks that slid up Shouto’s length, his large hand wrapping around his girth. He palmed whatever residual was left around his head, and Shouto closed his eyes, letting out a quiet sigh.

You weren’t expecting Kirishima to suck your boyfriend off before they fucked you, but you also weren’t expecting him to handle him so casually. He did it with such ease, and even Shouto looked comfortable. It was surprising how turned on you were from watching someone else play with Shouto’s cock. A part of you thought they’d look so pretty rubbing against each other, both sleek from spit and cum, but that could be a fantasy for another time.

Facing Shouto, he pushed into you, and you felt the familiar press of his cock. When he was fully seated, he pulled you close–a moment of tenderness throughout this debauchery. “Miss me?” You nodded. He gave you a kiss in return.

His lips caught your gasp as your nails dug into his shoulders as Kirishima positioned himself from behind. At first, he could only fit his head. Shouto’s hand trailed the length of your spine before settling on your hip. His Quirk warmed your tense muscles, and with a groan, both cocks were in.

It felt like minutes where there wasn’t any movement, for fear of cumming first. Kirishima finally broke the sounds of heavy breathing. “A pretty cunt and a nice cock to rub against? Seriously, are you two trying to make me cum first?”

“You can if you want to,” Shouto told him. If he left it at that, you would have laughed. “Our poor girl’s cunt will get messy regardless.” You held onto his unspoken promise of multiple creampies.

As if to encourage him, Shouto even took the lead, moving his hips in long, slow strokes. Your sighs were caught in his collarbones as you buried your head there. The intimacy was almost enough to make Kirishima cum then and there.

“Does it feel good too?” You couldn’t help but ask. “Kiri’s cock, I mean.”

The question earned a low rumble from the man behind you. Shouto paused, before saying an almost embarrassed yes. The tightness, the heat, his cock. It was almost overwhelming in the best possible way. Shouto had never had such an experience. “The piercings are… a nice touch.”

“Nice enough to make you cum?”

Kirishima didn’t care much about hero rankings but the thought of beating a Top Ten hero this way would give him a different sort of pride. 

“We have all night to find out,” Shouto told him.

His statement pulled out something primal and competitive inside them as each man started moving at once. You were so greedy to think that you could handle more; you couldn’t. All you could do was whimper and let yourself give in to the pleasure. Was it really so bad to cum first? Their cocks gave you a fullness that you couldn’t even comprehend as each showered you–and each other–in praise. Their hands were needy and wandering as they searched for the spots that would set you off–your tits, your clit, your neck.

Maybe your mind wandered or maybe this orgasm was finally too much. There were stars in your eyes and that familiar tingling that ran from your toes to your spine as your body shook from Shouto and Kirishima’s touch. Everything felt hot and sensitive after that moment.

But you had little time to wonder what happened exactly as a voice sweetly mocked you. “Exhausted already? But we’ve just begun.”

Rest's Main Masterlist / Todoroki Masterlist

[deuxcherise]

Rebirth Pt. 2

C/w: Unhealthy behavior, mentions of life and death, mentions of resurrection, explores human things, probably OOC Dottore (?), yandere Dottore, gender neutral reader A/n: So I’m back with a continuation of Rebirth, eheh~ Like with the previous one, this one is also quite experimental (compared to how I usually write). In addition, I wanted to kind of touch on some philosophical concepts since… well, we’re dealing with a resurrection here. So! Here, we’ll have you explore your surroundings for a bit before your favorite doctor comes and finds you, okay? Enjoy~ Masterlist | Part 1, Part 2 (you're here!)

There are many inquiries that continue to boggle the greatest of minds throughout time. Questions such as, “Do ghosts exist?’ or “How much of an object can you replace before it becomes an entirely new object?” or “What came first, the chicken or the egg?” or, following that line of thought, “Why did the chicken cross the road?”

But none elicits as many emotions among both the rich and the poor, the fortunate and less fortunate, the mighty and the weak, as the question, “What happens after one dies?”

You gasp, eyes open as needle-like sensations prick and stab all over your being. You claw at your body, accidentally scratching some of the delicate skin with your dull fingernails as you will the pain to stop. Instinctively, your mouth opens wide and your throat relaxes, finally allowing air to flow in. Once your lungs have gotten their fill, you cough and accidentally hack up some kind of thick, red substance onto… What are you looking at?

Various words flow into your head. Body. Head. Shoulders. Arms. Fingers. Legs. Knees. Feet. Toes. Yourself.

That last one is an odd word. But it’s one of the things you know, and that’s better than knowing nothing… right? … You don’t know… Oh well. What can you do?

You look at the red substance. There is an urge to touch it. How do you touch it? One of your limbs begins to move. It’s one of your arms. Your entire arm moves and flops around, bending and locking up at your joints. The sensation of tiny sparks pulsating from your head to the tips of your fingertips is ticklish, pulling the corners of your mouth outwards and upwards, exposing your teeth. The more you will yourself, the more those little sparks form and flow, and your fingers begin to move in a wave-like manner starting from your index finger to your little finger. The more you wiggle your fingers, the more control you begin to have until finally you’re able to pick up your hand and curl every single finger except for your index finger, and poke the red substance that you coughed up onto your legs.

It’s sticky. You don’t like the way it feels. And you don’t like the way it smells. It smells like iron... Tastes like iron… Blood?

Do you have blood? It came out of you, didn’t it? Living beings have blood. Do all living beings have blood? What an odd concept. What is a “living being”? Are you a “living being”?

You grab at your head, trying to will yourself away from this strange line of thought. Unfortunately, the more you try to avoid the subject, whether by pressing your fingers against your skull or shaking your head, the more thoughts appear in your mind regarding the concept of living. You know you should… be, but at the same time you know you shouldn’t… ? What is this contradiction? It’s… horrible. Horrible horrible horrible horrible horrible- “Ach!”

In your erratic movement, you’ve accidentally thrown yourself off your bed and onto the cold, hard floor. It is painful, especially the areas where your body had collided with the surface. Pain is often a clear indicator that one is living. You don’t know how you know that, but it’s one of the truths you know. So if you are feeling pain, you must be alive. Problem solved. Congratulations.

“Congratu… lations,” you sarcastically applaud yourself verbally, though the way those words feel like a pile of smooth pebbles tumbling around on your tongue.

Utilizing what little motor skills you’ve coordinated earlier, you slowly but surely push your top half upwards. You can feel those tiny sparks travel past your chest and torso and down towards your longer limbs. Unlike earlier, the sensation of your lower nerves might take a while. In the meantime, your eyes are captured by your strange surroundings.

The walls are lighter than black but darker than white. Grey. That’s the word. Grey. The walls are grey. And the floor is also grey. And the weird objects in the room are… also grey. There are just shades of grey everywhere, save for the few accents of black. Along with a really large curtain in front of you… that is unsurprisingly grey.

“How… boring…” you murmur, testing out your voice again. Your pronunciation is getting better, but it tires you out having to use your voice.

You would have liked to see… what’s that color again? It’s not grey, although the… Huh. What is it called? The “up”? No… agh, I can’t remember. Let’s go with the “up”. The “up” can be a grey of the color. Especially when it rains. The color of sadness. The color of water. What’s the name of that color again…?

You grimace. It hurts your brain trying to remember. Whatever it is, you know what you should know but it’s not coming to you at the moment and it’s making your chest pulsate warmly. And green.

With one arm holding your weight up, you make the other poke at the middle of your chest where it is glowing green. It disappears. You pout. Just as you’re wondering about what it is, the green glow reappears. Your eyes glitter with curiosity, as you’re unable to grab a hold of whatever it is. A morbid idea appears in your mind, but some other thought, probably your common sense, suddenly occurs to you that you would be an idiot for trying to rip your chest open. Because you would probably die. Again.

Again? Living beings only die once. How can one die again? You poke at your head, wondering why your brain is saying weird things.

You try out your legs by wrapping them underneath you, struggling to straighten your back but eventually managing to sit up straight in a kneeling position by leaning back on your hands.. Then you press your hands on the floor in front of you and try to push with your feet to hold up your bottom half.

You end up in a downward dog position.

That’s… not what you were going for. Why is standing so hard?

You huff and bite your lip with scrunched eyebrows, head forward as you try to figure out how to move your arms to your feet, failing to take note of the green in your chest growing brighter. You try bending your knees but that does nothing. The green flickers out. Then you begin to tilt your weight forward onto your hands and then tilt back towards your feet, and again until you manage to lift your upper half up with a backwards tilt. The green glow flickers back on. You celebrate being bipedal by raising your arms in a victory pose.

Just for a second, until you discover the concept of momentum.

“Ugh!” You fall flat on your butt, and the green glow immediately goes out. But not to fear.

The amazing thing about the human body— are you human? …You’re pretty sure you are one, but in the meantime you’ll be taking advantage of the concept of bodily memory. You were able to stand for a moment. Now you just need to figure out how to keep standing!

It takes you a few more tries, being in weird positions, but you finally manage to stand on your two feet. Now… how do you move without falling…?

-----

Somehow you find yourself outside. Ignoring the shallow lacerations from the broken glass on your arms and knees, and the cold outside air that’s making goosebumps appear on your bare skin, you look up and— “Oh… how…wonderful,” you can’t help but whisper.

The vast blue up above, where white fluffs float across like slow moving ships in a sea. The bright ball of light burns to look at but its rays look pretty as it falls upon the earth around you.

The sky. That’s the word you were looking for. The sky. It’s blue, so blue. It’s so…

You feel something wet go down both of your cheeks. When you touch your face, the wetness transfers onto your fingertips. It is a clear, warm liquid. Strangely, your throat and  nose seem to clog up. What’s happening to you? And why does your chest feel heavy when you look up at the sky?

The green glow appears at your chest again and this time you notice it. It seems to appear whenever you’re experiencing… something. You don’t quite understand it, but what can be more important than that you’re feeling right now?

You sigh. If it wasn’t for the beautifully blue sky, you would not stick around. Outside of the grey walls you woke up in, it’s just white. Soft white and yet painfully cold underneath your feet, and then far, far, far across the land where you can see is a dense forest. Other than that, if you turn around, there’s just a very large building with some admittedly nice architecture.

A building in the middle of nowhere. You have no idea where you are but you’re quite sure that if you have been anywhere in the world, this and the inside of that building are probably the most boring places you’ve ever been. You sigh and look around so more, hoping to see something interest-

A person. At least, you assume that’s a person, because other than their inhuman face, they’re bipedal with two arms and two legs. By how their face is pointing towards your direction, and considering you’re the only one here, you assume they’ve taken notice of your presence. But you feel a shiver wrack up through your body that isn’t related to the cold temperature.

Run, the feeling says.

You immediately make a break for it in the opposite direction. Unfortunately for you, that person starts to chase you, like a predator after a prey. They shout something you don’t understand.

“(Y/n)! Stop! (Y/n)!”

Whatever that person is saying, it’s making your head hurt and you hate the feeling of dread that accompanies that weird sound.

Run run run run run! you shout at yourself in your head. The faster you run, the more your legs burn. Much to your chagrin, the person is keeping up with you and for some damned reason, keeps shouting, “(Y/n)” over and over. If you could only make that person stop saying-

Your foot accidentally catches on something and your entire being crashes down onto the blanket of snow. Luckily, it is soft enough that your body doesn’t sustain any damage other than some bruises, but your pride was definitely wounded! For that, you lie still and wait for your second death to take over.

Footsteps come to a halt once they reach next to your body. “(Y/n)! I can’t believe it… why… Are you okay?”

Perhaps it is too much to hope for death when you’ve just started living. You keep your head down, averse to interacting with this stranger. Maybe if you don’t respond, that person will just go away.

“(Y/n)?” At your lack of movement, the person flips you over and picks up your body like a weightless sack of… anything that would normally be heavy, much to your shock. Seeing your wide eyes and agape mouth, the person whispers, “Oh thank goodness...”

The stranger collapses onto his knees while still holding your body. His body shakes as he hugs you tightly, almost to the point of crushing your bones. Once he rips off his face, revealing a different face underneath, to hug you closer, your eyes go wide.

Oh… Well now. What a handsome fellow~ You have no idea what a non-handsome face would look like, but this is definitely a handsome face! And his voice~ When he’s not saying that dreadful word “(Y/n)”, the words coming out from his mouth are quite pleasant on the ears. And the way he holds you, goodness gracious-

“(Y/n)?”

That sound again! You slap a hand against the man’s chest and push him away, scrambling just a few feet away on your hands and knees. This action of yours isn’t taken in a positive manner by the man, evident by how his face seems to scrunch and his teeth are bared towards you. This is a face of anger, your mind processes.

“(Y/n)-”

You wince at that damned word, covering your ears and screeching, “No!”

“Huh? (Y/n)-”

“Stop it!”

“What?” The man kneels in front of you, holding your wrists and trying to uncover your ears. “Stop what, (Y/n)-”

“That word! Stop it!” you shout, trying to wrangle out of his grip in vain. Your eyes are scrunched shut.

“What word?”

Oh, he’s playing dumb now? “That word!”

“(Y/n)?”

“YES,” you scream. “STOP IT! STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT!”

“.....”

You open one of your eyes and meet the man’s red eyes. You watch as his eyes slowly soften and his grip becomes loose. You open both of your eyes and uncover your ears, curious of this expression of his. Then you start to become conscious of his gaze. Now that someone is looking at you, you find the urge to cover your indecently naked body with your arms and legs. Unfortunately, his hands may be soft but they haven’t let go of you just yet, so you just hold up your knees.

“(Y/-” he catches himself. “Do you… Do you not recognize me?”

You give him a look of disgust.

Does he think you have the memory of a goldfish? How in the underworldly realms could you forget a handsome face like his? It would be- It would be blasphemy! You aren’t an- “Idiot,” you say in a small voice.

“What was that?”

But you do try. You squint at him. He's… a very good looking man with light blue hair that reminds you of the sky and red eyes that remind you of blood. His outfit looks quite fancy with all of the frills and buttons and gold. Nothing comes to mind though; you haven’t seen him before. “No…” you answer, despondently. 

The man’s eyes widen and he looks everywhere in a manic way, as if looking for something that isn’t there. Then he closes his eyes and gives a heavy sigh with head fallen back, facing the sky. “I see.”

He places you on the cold snow and takes off his white coat to wrap you up before he replaces his mask on his face, picks you up again and begins trudging back to the building. You don’t question his actions, finding comfort in his arms and his coat. He doesn’t seem to want to bring any harm to you… Then again, what if he’s one of those weirdos who like to prolong one’s death? Handsome faces can be real liars!

Hesitantly, you ask, “Who are you? Do I know you?”

The man pauses in his movement and faces you, an uncanny grin spreading across his face. “I’m your lover, silly,” he answers before continuing on his way.

“My lover?” THIS HANDSOME MAN IS-  “… What’s a lover?”

He pauses again, to contemplate his answer. “A lover is… someone you cannot live without.”

“... So I can’t live… without you?” you ask, confused. A living being doesn’t need another being to live, do they? You are sure you’ve been doing quite well before he entered the picture.

“That’s right~ And I most certainly cannot live without you.”

“Is that so?” you whisper, voice already tired again. “ … That’s sad…”

He grits his teeth and tightens his grip around you. “And why is that?” he spits.

“Because if I die… then you’ll die. That sounds… ” Sad.

You don’t know what his eyes look like underneath that mask but his mouth starts to relax before his lips close gently. You feel the urge to caress his exposed cheeks. However, you don’t, unsure if this stranger would take too kindly to the gesture.

“It certainly is… sad,” he says, heavy-hearted. “For one’s lover to die, it is… true agony. Like the sky has fallen.”

The sky falling down!? You gasp. “That sounds horrible. I don’t like that! Don’t say that!” you want to say, but nothing comes out of your mouth so you instead cover your ears dramatically.

The man chuckles and continues walking. “Alright, alright. I won’t say anymore. Now let us go home, angel.”

Home, you repeat in your mind. With your lover. That sounds lovely…

[saiyanmazen]

Your fiery nature

Another Vegebul ficlet written for the Vegebulocracy's D&D event. I would've finished it yesterday, but I've been struck down by a virus.

The prompt I used for this is obviously rage. This piece is rated somewhere between T and M. Nothing explicit or sexual, but very direct about the topic of sex.

Can also be read here on AO3.

------------------------------------

Vegeta didn't think he would ever have anything in common with the Earthlings. He knew there were similarities between him and Kakarot given their shared race, but he'd been more than disappointed by how corrupted the third class Saiyan had been by the humans. There was very little of his heritage in his blood, beside the physical attributes he reaped the benefits of.

No, there wasn't anyone on this forsaken planet that could measure up to the Prince of All Saiyans.

Or so he'd thought.

The first time he felt the strange sense of kinship was when Baldy was visiting the compound. The small so-called warrior (although Vegeta begrudgingly admitted that he was the only one he carried a tiny amount of respect for - he had at least been ready to kill Vegeta until Kakarot stopped him) hadn't turned his back to Vegeta the entire time he was there; a good instinct to be honest. The midget's fear of him was justified. The Prince was the most dangerous being in the entire universe.

He hadn't paid attention to the conversation, only watched as the Earthlings interacted with each other. Maybe it could prove useful in the future. But it appeared that Baldy said something to the woman that made her angry. Her voice rose to mind-boggling shrillness as her eyes threw daggers at the midget and her mouth spewed the most heinous things at him.

The tiny man was quick to respond, backing away in fear of her wrath, and actually turned his back to Vegeta, leaving him open to attack. In fact, the bald man backed directly into Vegeta where he was leaning against the wall. Baldy didn't even flinch when he felt himself collide with the genocidal alien, still keeping his attention on the furious woman.

Vegeta was frankly offended. Why was a warrior afraid of a person as weak as her? She practically had no ki at all.

He pushed the midget to the side, possibly through the wall, and approached the hysterical female. Her rage was no match to his and, though he'd given his word that he would do no harm to her and her family, he wasn’t going to let her behave this way in front of him. Her screeching was awful to his ears and her language some of the foulest he'd heard in his life, but he would stop her. He shouted with all his might that she better shut up right this instant.

She quieted a moment, her blue eyes zeroing on him with blinding white rage, and then she directed everything at him. Her ferocity shocked him and, even as he returned her fire, she didn't back down, not once.

He'd never experienced anything like it. No one, even Frieza, had ever spoken to him like that. But he suddenly found something in another that he could relate to: an intense and burning rage.

She was magnificent. A wildfire hidden right beneath the surface of her deceptively weak appearance. In spite of the insults he flung at her, he was enchanted by her fiery nature.

After their fight somehow came to an end (which might have ended with him walking away in anger after she'd threatened to dismantle the gravity room), he felt invigorated in a whole new way. He knew that he would never look at her the same way again.

It quickly became clear to him that it wasn't just Baldy who feared the force of her wrath. Her little boytoy lost all his (unearned) bravado whenever her temper spiked, Kakarot would immediately do his best to placate her and even the Namekian was quick to disappear at signs of her nasty behavior.

Vegeta could never act so cowardly. He stood his ground and gave back, making her rage flare to almost explosive levels. It caused a strange sensation in him, an attraction to her that he eventually acknowledged had something to do with his Saiyan genes. The women of his race had been fierce and unafraid of even the greatest warrior, no matter how inferior their strength was. And Bulma’s steely gaze and cutting words made him feel more at home than he ever had before.

He began seeking her out, goading her into fight after another, relishing the sparks flickering between them as they exchanged blows.

It inevitably became physical, albeit in a way he was unfamiliar with. Not that it stopped any of them from pursuing this new passionate dance. They wrestled for dominance every time and it blew his mind every time. It drew him even more to her, much to his chagrin.

Over the time spent together, they learned not to come to blows at every turn. It took the birth of their infant child and the death of their future son for them to find a peaceful co-existence. They still argued, often to the point that the other inhabitants would clear out for a while until the dust had settled. It was usually after they'd aggressively worked things in a physical manner.

At times they'd be forced to put their quarrels to the side. Those were his favorites. She would pounce at him at an unexpected moment, push him into the mattress, a wall or wherever she attacked, wrath burning in her eyes, and put her whole body into releasing that anger at him. She would move like a wild beast, scratch and bite at him, pull his hair and even yell at him while they both reached the peak.

She was glorious, a true Queen worth of any throne, passionate and strong in all ways that mattered. He was lucky to have found a woman whose temper could match his own if not outdo him. After all, her rage could even make a god cower in fear. And Vegeta wouldn't have it any other way.

[ternfic]

Penance

Chapter Five: New World Order

It had been ten years since the untimely deaths of his parents. He’d recently been elected the new President of Bricksburg- the youngest the realm has ever had. But his plan had been put into motion even before he got into office- he’d had the ear of President Stirien for a long time. So it had been under the administration of President Stirien that two specific new laws had been introduced- Master Builders must all be registered, and they must all have a license to Build. A way to keep tabs on who was Building, and when. He hoped the idea would spread, but for now, Bricksburg would be his test realm. He was surprised that a few actually complied, but as he predicted, most were refusing to adhere to law.

Sirius had quietly put out an advertisement for a very special job, once he’d been elected. A surprising number of applications had been turned in, quite a few of them even from outside realms. He hadn’t been expecting that. But he’d gone through each and every one of them, picked out the ones that stood out the most, and began the interviews.

So far, every applicant he’d interviewed had looked promising on paper, but were rather lackluster once he met them in person. He hoped the same couldn’t be said of his next appointment. This one in particular was… amazing, and he couldn’t wait to get a look at the guy.

He was a police officer, only a few years younger than Sirius himself. Graduated from Harvard for Police, finished his probation in his home realm of Bricksburg, and had a remarkable record, for only being on the force for a couple years so far.

Having access to such information didn’t prepare him for how huge the guy was, though, when the cop stepped into his office. Sirius caught himself staring and shook himself out of his stupor, a pleased grin crossing his face as he stood to greet the man. “Welcome,” he said, shaking the cop’s hand. Standing so close to him, Sirius felt tiny- this guy was easily six foot four, and at least two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle. It was an unusual sensation, one he’d never experienced before; he was always the biggest presence in the room. But this dour-faced officer, with his reflective aviator sunglasses and black uniform, was intimidating in a way Sirius could never hope to be himself.

He was perfect.

“It’s Officer Callaghan, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Please, have a seat.” The cop sat, taking off his cap and sunglasses as he did so. He didn’t look quite so scary without the shades, and Sirius relaxed. “So tell me- Cary, is it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Interesting… Why did you apply for this job?”

“For much the same reason you started your campaign,” he answered. “The Master Builders need to be dealt with. You’ve made a start, which is more than most can say, but you need someone to enforce the laws you’ve passed. Someone who’s willing and able to stand up to them, let them know we’re not putting up with their chaos anymore. We’ve seen first-hand the results when the citizens try- at best, they’re simply ignored. At worst…” He shook his head. “I’ll just say the results aren’t pleasant. The fights are getting worse. But we can take them. We’ve done it before.”

He certainly had. That was perhaps the most impressive part of this cop’s records. Took the Master Builder on, one on one, in unarmed combat- which in itself was almost beyond belief. Only superheroes or other Master Builders had ever been able to take one on in close combat with any amount of success, and Sirius knew for a fact this officer was neither. And not only that, but he’d bounced back from a blow that would have knocked anyone else out, shocking the Master Builder enough to wrestle him into submission and cuff him. Granted, they hadn’t been able to hold him for very long, but the fact that this cop had even made the arrest in the first place was mind-boggling.

But there was that persistent ‘we’ that confused him. He’d noticed there was an Alastar Callaghan that had applied too- same age, same background, so he’d assumed twins. “I just have one more question for you,” he said. The officer nodded to him. “You said ‘we’ several times. Do you mean your brother?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re partners?”

“You could say that.”

He frowned slightly at that. “Would you mind explaining?” His eyes went wide as their face… switched, somehow, and he found himself staring at a pair of round spectacles and a bright smile.

“Hello, President Business! It’s a pleasure to finally meet you! I know you set the interview to be with Cary, but as you can see, we’re kind of a package deal.” Sirius leaned back in his chair, stunned. Janus twins. That certainly explained a lot. “I hope this doesn’t throw his chances of getting the job…”

“No…” Slowly, Sirius started to grin, mind already churning out ways in which he could use their unique situation to his advantage. “No, rather, I’d like to offer you both the job.”

[gctchell]

💭 Lilith's vampire aspects during the early years.. fun thoughts. with lililuci ship indulgence.

💭 Lilith's first awakening of vampirism coming in the form of self-defense. Her canine teeth have been growing steadily sharper as she strayed from the intended Path laid out for her, and that becomes obvious when she attacks Adam, spilling blood for the first time in the Garden by biting into his neck. The pain stuns him. This is new, and it's awful. He manages to get her off of him, clamping a hand on his bleeding neck - Lilith standing before him with his blood completely drenching her jaw and chest.

💭 Lilith taking sanctuary on the shores of the Red Sea after fleeing Eden, still bloodied, still in a shaken emotional state. For days she does not eat - matters made worse by the fact that the Earth is not flourishing like the Garden is, filled with resources. At first she was able to ignore it, the little gulps of blood she had gotten from Adam being her only form of sustenance, but like all food, it runs its course - especially when there was so little of it. She is weak, and her attempts to catch fish fail her every time. She's dizzy.

💭 Lucifer has been visiting with her ever since the incident, being her main source of comfort. It has not approached his mind yet that she is going without food until it's finally made obvious by how tired and exhausted she is. He supports her against his frame, holding her up. She leans into his embrace and hides in him, her face tucking instinctively into his neck. There's a pulse in her body from her core. Instinct drives her again - she sinks her teeth into poor Lucifer's neck.

💭 Oh, that's weird! But angels don't really register pain the way that humans do - their tolerance is much higher. But, it is still shocking, and he gasps softly. What a weird sensation! What is she doing? He's befuddled and confused, and his mind quickly puts together that she is absorbing sustenance - from him. Oh, the poor thing. Oh, what a strange feeling.. This sting and pulse that was pain was changing. It started to make him blush? It started to feel nice. He is not yet familiar with the personal practice of sleep, but this dreamy haze makes his eyes boggle. He keeps a steady spine at first, but begins to find that he is gradually slipping off into this alien, enchanting state of mind. He's leaning into her, gently gripping her shoulders.

💭 The hunger tides, and consciousness yanks Lilith right back into reality and right out of Lucifer's neck, wide-eyed and jaw painted gold with blood. She spills into apologies, and he finds he's disappointed by the feeling ending. He chuckles and tells her it's all right, he certainly doesn't mind - he just did not expect it. Like, at all. Wow! But he can see she has been revitalized, and she is almost glowing. It's worth it.

💭 .. He liked that feeling, though. He's never known it before, and Heaven has absolutely no reference for this sort of thing. He feels certain that perhaps no other angel has been introduced to the sensation. He feels special, and delighted, and most of all, Lilith had recovered impeccably well after the incident. So he offers, and it is her turn to be surprised. She questions if he is certain, and he says yes.

It was not at all an unpleasant sensation when she was drinking from Lucifer - it was the exact opposite. The world felt better. The air felt better. She felt more alive. The only slight reference she could compare it to was something of a thrill. They both did not know what it was, but if he was offering, then Lilith was gladly accepting.

💭 Lucifer being Lilith's daily source of blood, both unknowingly damning the other before the banishment has even taken place.

💭 Even after ascending to Heaven, Adam still has those puncture marks in his neck.

[sailorblossoms-snowbaz]

Looking at the wording when it’s brought up that Agatha and Simon got physical, it always picked my attention that it’s both vague as hell and never really defined in terms of “quantity.” “It was just going through the motions” could be the conclusion of a series of experiences or a single experience. “It was always going through the motions” would obviously refer to multiple instances. Same with “I’ve seen this before” vs “I have seen him like this so many times before.” (mild SFC spoilers are below the cut/marked as spoiler because I have SFC related thoughts) (the other things that happened in the story inspire my need not for analysis but for FICS. I’ll EAT those fics)

It occurs to me that this whole thing is treated more like a concept rather than something that’s concrete and defined. The closest it gets to defining the experience is during the hospital scene, where Simon has the instinct to cover himself from Agatha in a protective gesture (already raising alarm bells) while all his instincts are screaming for him to run (this is part of why it boggles my goddamn mind when it’s argued “horny boy was horny” in this case because “sex automatically means just good feelings/sensations” – the very thing the book questions – and boy is boy. look at this shit! my man was about to piss himself!! that’s when it’s first brought up! this shit ain’t right!) and Agatha feels strange. She expresses no desire – she felt responsibility here. On Simon’s side, the closest is that one paragraph that establishes the comparison through structure: he wasn’t in love, he wasn’t turned on. He didn’t want it. “This is what sex looked like for them,” it says there, but beyond that, it feels like it’s very purposely left for the reader to fill in the blanks (the right choice here I’d say). Hell, there might not even be more thought on this beyond what’s on the page. 

I’m unfortunately the kind of reader that can’t leave shit like this alone – if you throw me something that puts me off and makes no sense (at least on the surface) I’m going to find out why. And what I think makes the most sense for them it’s that there might have been some mechanical fooling around here and there. Some curiosity and experimentation while trying to perform “a regular straight teen relationship,” in a way that feels uncomfortable but that would get downplayed (or not thought about ever in Simon’s case, you would never think he has ever done shit by the way he thinks before Baz) And honestly, nothing would be more fitting for those two than never being able to get each other off. (I made the case for Simon getting off for the first time in that scene with Baz, without his magic and all that.)

This is the only way it makes sense when you consider that 1. Simon’s crazy magic is a hell of a thing repressing him. No way he can get off without also going off. Wouldn’t be a problem if he wasn’t feeling turned on though and/or let his mind wander (dissociation would make feeling shit pretty difficult) 2. No way in hell Simon’s issues with intimacy start with Baz. Sure, there are new things he’s dealing with in WS, he’s re-traumatized in some ways, he has never consciously dealt with sexual desire before and his feelings for Baz are too overwhelming (he has never wanted anyone but Baz, he says). But the  he kind of “issues” that makes dissociation during a sexual situation common are issues Simon already had while dating her. If anything, unwanted experiences with Agatha where he pressured himself to go though would accentuate that. Can’t be a coincidence that Baz and Simon talk about this before they’re able to have sex, or that Simon says it at the very moment Baz is feeling the most vulnerable (while drinking) (Simon’s at his most vulnerable too) (whole thing is about exposing shame). 

As for “going all the way,” I’d say it happened once and I quote @carryonsimoncarryonbaz “during Christmas break 7th year” (we’ve had so many convos sometimes I forget who said what haha). Simon says, as explanation (because he feels the need to explain) “we were together for a long time” – you don’t say that shit if you’re doing it a couple of months into the relationship, because how long you have been together wouldn’t be relevant in that case. 

Why do I say once? First of all, logistics. You gotta remember these people didn’t have an awful lot of free time, even less Simon. His schedule was packed as hell. The argument that it had to have happened at least a couple dozen times or something is wild as hell to me because when the hell are they finding that time? Where would they do it at Watford like, realistically? Gay sex would’ve been easier there! they wouldn’t have the drive or the motivation to work to make it happen in non-ideal places. A simple kiss wouldn’t be leading to shit spontaneously. They don’t see each other during the summer break (when Simon pretends she doesn’t exist). They were left alone at her house sometimes, but not all the goddamn time, and Helen was still there. I could maybe see the argument for “trying going all the way a second time to see if a sucky first time was just first time nerves” or something along those lines, but multiple times? All the way? For two people with no sexual attraction to each other? With barely any time to be alone together? It doesn’t add up. We love fantasy, but I’m not suspending my belief for this shit. 

Another reason (the biggest reason I’m arguing this) is that the vulnerability of sex brings up relationship problems, and those two together were, well. A Problem. It’s one thing to have a series of experiences with unwanted “fooling around” and related but going all the way? Man. This could easily be the thing that seriously pushes them to break apart. A thing that brings up a lot of negative emotions. Agatha wouldn’t be equipped to deal with Simon breaking down, and it would have come to that if it he pushed himself multiple times to go all the way when he didn’t want it (but felt like he had to). 

The “it happened during Christmas 7th year” timeline it’s consistent with Simon remembering Agatha becoming more emotionally detached and irritated after the break, and it has Agatha running after Baz (as in, she has “tried it all” with Simon and it didn’t work, so time to look for a spark elsewhere). This is already telling you that she was reaching her breaking point and getting ready to break up, and it’s also consistent with the negative emotions that going through the motions sex can cause, negative emotions that also manifest in Simon when he talks about it (and outside of his head it’s the only time this gets approached, with Baz present to help him process it; never once alone in his head) Also, it always stood out to me when Agatha is breaking up with Simon, he tries to hold her hand and she jumps away from his contact. Simon brushes it away with “I moved too fast and scared her” but it feels like there’s something deeper going on there. He’s not fucking flash, it’s not... normal to be jumpy like that.

SPOILERS START HERE

In SFC Simon brings up touch. He’s like “I never liked to touch Agatha in front of her parents because I didn’t want to remind them we were stuff together.” Again the vagueness. Obvious assumptions aside (because Simon challenges such assumptions during his conversation with Baz with “sex is not confirmation of attraction” and “is it good that it happened?”). Going to the movies is doing stuff together. Doing stuff together can be “let’s figure out how tongue kissing works.” It can be literally what Agatha describes in awtwb: sitting so close together while watching TV Simon is sweating all over her, while he puts his arm around her. It’s already a thing he wouldn’t be comfortable doing in front of her parents. 

“I wanted her parents to trust me,” Simon dated Agatha in survival mode. Even being together is survival. When he tells her “I love you,” his thinking mirror battle strategies rather than emotions. Here, he shows an awareness of expectations for boys like him. He didn’t want her parents thinking he can’t be trusted to be in their house when they weren’t around because he would be “a horny boy trying to get his way with their daughter” or some shit. He was aware of such expectations, and he performed with Agatha because that’s what he’s supposed to want, isn’t it? This is what happens in relationships, what leads to a future and a family and fitting it. This is what you do if you don’t want to be left behind, isn’t it? But at the same time, he didn’t want these expectations to leave him with nowhere to go. It’s a lot, and he was on alert. 

And with the way it’s phrased, it’s all in Simon’s head. He doesn’t say the parents did shit that cause him to adjust his behavior, it was coming from him. Because he just didn’t like to touch Agatha, period. Not as a boyfriend. He’s not like “I had to restrain myself” in front of her parents, he simply didn’t like it. So he put internal blocks here. Simon’s priority in that paragraph is parental acceptance. It’s getting the adults to trust him. And it makes sense that he expresses it like this, without much examination, because this is only 6 months after awtbw. It took him more than a year after they broke up to process in real time with Baz that he was never into Agatha, it makes sense he hasn’t dedicated any more time to this. And this thought occurred to him because of a situation with parents that triggered it. It also occurs to me: between this and Simon’s initial reaction when Baz asks, it seems like Simon considers "getting physical” with Agatha as something no one has to know, as in, this is something that’s embarrassing or shameful. And Simon is not at all a reserved “i just don’t like PDA” kind of guy – he was rubbing his cock on Baz in a library! A public space! Simon worries about “being gay” outside for a while, but when he’s working through this and they’re finally progressing, Baz notes he seems to get off on public displays of affection! So to dislike being public with Agatha, a straight relationship that is accepted by everyone and their mothers, it’s indicative of just disliking touching Agatha.

In contrast, what holds Simon back from touching Baz is external (a potentially hostile environment, where the parents are visibly “miserable” because of his presence). When Simon and Baz go to have dinner with Baz's parents, it’s the one (1) time Simon truly and fully enters survival mode in their relationship, and he notes “these adults are not going to trust me even if we’re sitting like we’re leaving room for Jesus.” It’s the complete opposite to the situation with Agatha, where Simon wanted parental approval, where she wasn’t the priority at all, and he didn’t like touching her, anyway. Here, Baz is Simon’s priority. Here, Simon has to restrain himself from touching Baz, and it makes him miserable, even though it’s only been a couple of hours at most. Here, Baz touch is linked to sustenance (breakfast). Touching Baz is as vital to Simon as eating. It makes him giddy. Not touching him it’s like torture. We get none of that “I don’t like PDA in front of parents/other people” he touches him and calls him babe in front of everyone with God As His Witness. He has 0 issues here. He doesn’t give a fuck. 

And his horny reactions to Baz helping him with his clothes is worlds apart from how uncomfortable he was with even the idea sex in CO or even in part of WS in his head, when he’s telling you Baz is the only person he has ever wanted “like this.” (Simon can’t even think the word sex, it’s memory Baz who says it.) If you consider Simon’s expertize with undoing Baz’s tie here, and the way Simon was regularly jumping Baz and thinking about his cock around him in awtwb, it all paints the picture of a Simon who has become “sexually liberated” in a way he never has before. He’s having sex regularly with his boyfriend and you bet your ass he fucking wants it. You bet he’s prioritizing it and making the time for it. Godbless.  

[akfsylph]

Blizzard of ‘23

we have reached the end fellas!!! hella smut warning :^)

special shout out to courtney for being the reason why this fic started in the first place lol

thank you to all of those who have been reading! the love and support kept me going :)

im writing a Creek fanfic atm if y'all are into that. i also am totally open to requests if you guys have any suggestions so hit up my ask lol

THANK YOU AGAIN AND ENJOY!!!

Chapter 5

~*~*~*~*~*~

After leaving Butters’s shop, Kyle made the drive home back to his parents’ place. He was grateful he no longer had to worry about his mother or father spotting the former damage on his car and then harassing him about the situation. He had given Cartman everything he had asked for in their little agreement they made prior.

Well, almost everything.

Kyle didn’t quite understand why he kept getting wrapped up in the other man’s never-ending teasing. The redhead knew that Eric knew exactly what he was doing: He would piss Kyle off (as he always did) and challenge him. And Kyle hated losing to Cartman. He hated Cartman.

He hated how the other man would say his name; with an “al” instead of pronouncing the “le” at the end of his name. He hated how Cartman would throw every little thing in his face, or the way he would call him some insulting name. He hated the way he got Kyle so worked up with he planted wet kisses all over his upper body until he traveled down to his dick and—

He didn’t hate that part of Cartman, the redhead admitted to himself. Kyle absolutely loved the way the brunet’s mouth was wrapped around him last night and the way he so mind-blowingly took over his body and mind. It boggled the redhead how much he could both despise someone and want someone so much.

Before he knew it, Kyle was pulling into the driveway; his thoughts consuming his mind made the drive a lot quicker. Collecting his belongings from the passenger seat, he went into the familiar house of his parents.

Both Ike and his mother were sitting at the dining room table on the other side, cards in their hands and lying in piles on the wooden tabletop. The noirette was intently focused on whatever cards were currently in hand as he refused to look up despite their mother saying, “Oh, Kyle, welcome back. Ike told me you met with an old friend, how was it?”

Kyle mentally thanked his brother for covering for him so he didn’t have to do so, “It was nice, ma. What are you two playing?” The redhead placed his bag down and sauntered over to the table, hoping that his mother wouldn’t inquire any further.

“Kings in the Corner,” Ike answered, “and I’m about to win,” the Canadian placed the remainder of his hand onto the cards surrounding a deck on the table, and Sheila sighed and placed her cards down as she watched him finish. Kyle leaned down to place a gentle hand on his mom’s shoulder and kiss her cheek.

“I’m gonna go shower; don’t lose too hard to Ike,” Kyle said as the two at the table continued their game. Legs took the tall man up the stairs and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him before his father could call out to him from his office.

He turned the faucet on to warm the water as he stripped his clothes, eager to clean last night’s events off his body. The slim body stepped into the shower, twirling himself around to feel the hot water hit all over, reaching for the washcloth and body wash from the shower’s shelf. Squirting the scented soap into the cloth settled in his palm, he began to wash his pale, slender body in circles, relaxing deeper into the pleasant sensation.

~*~*~*~*~*~

After Kyle’s shower, he found himself spending most of his day and evening with his parents and brother doing various at-home activities that included board and card games, watching a new episode of Sheila’s soap opera, and drinking many glasses of wine thanks to Gerald continuously supplying the four family members with refills. Ike had managed to get him alone for a few moments so he could pester him about Eric, but Kyle refused to give too many details to his younger brother.

When evening fell on South Park, the Broflovski’s enjoyed dinner and more wine together, chatting happily at the table after the meal was finished. Kyle soon became distracted, however, when the sound of his ringtone played loudly from where his phone was sitting on the table. He wanted to ignore the call, listening to a story being told by his father, but when he checked the caller ID, he became interested.

Cartman.

Kyle knew exactly why the heavy man was phoning him, and a wine-fueled Kyle became exhilarated at the idea of what was to come from this call.

“I gotta take this,” the redhead pushed himself out of his seat, hearing an “okay” from Sheila and grabbing his wine glass before resorting to his room.

“Hey, you” Kyle answered, closing his bedroom door.

“Wow, a proper greeting,” the brunet’s voice said, “you must be in a good mood. I’m sure that’s ‘cause of me.”

“Please,” the redhead scoffed, “when have you ever put me in a good mood?”

“Last night?” the smirk could be heard in Eric’s voice.

Kyle’s stomach did a flip and his lower body started to burn at the thought of the other man’s hands forcing him still on the couch as he gobbled and swallowed him whole.

“Oh, yeah, I guess I still have to return the favor, huh?” the redhead suggested as he walked towards the old, dingy mirror sitting in his room to check his appearance, finishing the rest of his wine when he was pleased with the reflection. “You better be ready, shithead.”

“So eager now, aren’t we, Kyle? Get your ass over here already,” the brunet demanded as he ended the phone call, signaling to the tall man that he was officially invited to go to the other man’s apartment.

Movements mimicked last night as Kyle pulled his bag over his shoulder and began to jet out of his parents’ home. Only this time, it wasn’t his brother who stopped him before he could exit, but his mother.

“Oh, Kyle, where do you think you’re going? You’re not going to drive after drinking, are you?” Sheila interrogated, disrupting the conversation the three were partaking in.

“I’m just going—” Kyle began.

“Oh, no, you sit your little tush down; you already left last night,” his mother interrupted, “What, you don’t like spending time with your family anymore?”

“Sheila,” his father interjected, “he’s fine; let him go have fun. He’s probably spending the night with some girl.” Kyle’s cheeks went pink after hearing that from his father, becoming mildly flustered as if he knew that he was actually going to a man’s house instead. The redhead saw Ike chuckling to himself after seeing his brother’s face while his mother looked at her husband annoyed.

“He can spend time with us, he’s never here!” She insisted.

“Bye, Kyle, we’ll see you later,” Gerald ignored the redheaded woman, waving to his eldest son as he waited for him to leave.

“Bye, Kyle,” Ike joined, and with that, Sheila surrendered and let out a sigh.

The tall man was soon out the door and into his car, making the same trip he had just done last night. Turning into the complex, he parked in a similar spot as he trotted to the now familiar apartment of Eric Cartman.

When he approached the door, it swung open before the man even had a chance to knock. Kyle was then being pulled into the apartment by the husky man, leaving the brisk, bitter air to enter a heated kiss.

The brunet pulled away for a moment to ask, “Kyle, have you been drinking?” There was a small laugh that left the shorter man’s mouth when he smelled the wine on the taller man’s breath, and the redhead placed sloppy kisses on the side of Eric’s face and neck.

“Hm, no, I don’t drink,” Kyle claimed as slender hands moved up and down the plump upper body pressed against him. Eric removed a hand to land a hard smack on the redhead’s ass.

“Fuck off,” the brunet said with the same hand now firmly planted on the ass check of Kyle. He then led the swaying man towards the living room couch before asking, “You want me to mouth fuck you on the couch? Or would you be more comfortable with your knees on the bed?”

“I preferred to be fucked on the bed,” Kyle responded, and the brunet swiftly guided him into the bedroom on the other side of the room.

Clothes were removed as their tongues tangled together and their lips refused to split apart, only taking breaks when the physical barrier of their clothes prevented their mouths from meeting. Kyle was pushed on the bed behind him as Eric fell on top of him, both men holding on to any part of the other’s body that they could possibly touch.

The wine was making Kyle feel bold, taking a clump of brown hair in his hand to force the other man to look at him directly, “Aren’t you gonna show me who’s boss? You’re so damn quiet in bed.”

“Getting impatient already?” Eric smirked, “I have no problems telling you to get on your knees and start sucking me off.” The brunet looked down at the body below him for a moment, “Well? Are you gonna get fucking on with it? Knees. Now.”

The heavier man positioned himself on the bed to where he was sitting upright with legs spread and his hard length exposed, waiting for the redhead’s mouth to devour. Kyle obeyed Eric’s orders, getting onto both hands and knees, rubbing the insides of thick thighs as he spread the brunet’s legs out wider. He wasted no time with teasing kisses or soft swirls to the tip of the throbbing length with his tongue; Kyle immediately took all of Eric in his mouth, using his tongue to lubricate a side of his cock.

Eric arched his back and gasped at the unexpected pleasure that was enclosed around his entire length, moaning out a few curse words as the redhead continued to lick and suck the complete package. Fat fingers entwined themselves in thick curly hair, latching on tightly as the brunet made small thrusts into the tall man’s mouth.

Tears were beginning to fill the corner of green eyes as he continued sucking and licking the hard cock, but the man had no intentions of giving up and letting the husky man get a moment to recover.

However, the redhead soon felt his hair being pulled roughly with his mouth leaving Eric’s dick with a trail of spit still connected to his tongue. Green eyes connected with mismatched eyes, both bodies becoming sweaty with heat and lust.

“Fuck, Kyle, I’m gonna come if you keep that up,” the brunet said with a solid grip still in red locks. “Stay on your hands and knees, hot stuff.”

Again, the redhead obeyed Eric’s words as he watched him take a moment to compose himself before moving around the pale man. The exposed ass of Kyle hung in the air for the other man, who slapped each check before giving it a tender kiss. Eric leaned against the back of Kyle, situating his hard-on in between ass cheeks as he wrapped a hand around the taller man’s own hard-on.

“You wanna be fucked like a slut?” The brunet asked, pumping the cock in his hand, hoping to get the man below him to beg.

Kyle responded with a moan, the sensation of his dick being jerked off clouded his mind, and Eric pumped harder when he was met with no words from the other man as he asked again, “Didn’t you hear me? Do you want me to fuck you or not?”

“Y-Yes,” the redhead finally said.

“Yes, what, Kyle? What do you want?”

“I-I want you to fuck me, Eric,” he abashedly admitted, bringing his ass closer to the cock that was pressed against it. Another playful smack landed on the pale ass of Kyle, while Eric released his length to place both hands on bony hips. Making sure he was positioned properly, the pudgy man licked his hand and rubbed his throbbing dick until it was wet enough to slide into Kyle.

The brunet gave Kyle no warning or preparation to his length being pushed into him; he let out a sharp and shaky gasp when more than half of Eric abruptly entered in him. He then began to thrust, pushing himself in fully and practically falling on top of the redhead.

“Fuck, Kyle, you have no idea how long I’ve waiting to see you like this,” he said into a pale neck. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to—” the brunet thrusted deeply, earning a deep moan from the body below, “fuck your fucking brains out.”

Love bites began attacking Kyle’s neck, as all the redhead could do was try and keep himself propped up while he met Eric’s thrusts with his own. He was overwhelmed with pleasure and sensation; Eric’s mouth on his neck; his hands gripping tightly around his hips, pulling him in as he got fucked; his thick cock was filling him perfectly and Kyle couldn’t help but pant and moan like a bitch.

Kyle was able to breath for a moment when Eric briefly pulled out to flip the taller man onto his back, swinging long legs over his shoulders and finding his entrance once again. He felt mismatched eyes staring, watching, and observing the red hot mess that was Kyle, but green eyes remained closed as the sensation of Eric’s cock stretched him out. There was no movement however, which caused the redhead to finally look into the eyes starting about him.

“Good,” Eric said when eye contact was made, “I want you to look at me when I fuck you, ‘kay?”

“Yes,” Kyle piped up, knowing better than to not answer the man as Eric finally began moving in Kyle again, ramming and manhandling the tall man. “S-Shit, Eric!”

Hearing the redhead address him by his first name gave him the motivation to wrap a hand around the neck of Kyle, lifting his rear end up even more to shove himself deeper inside, making Kyle pant over and over again.

“I’m close, little slut,” he informed as he then took hold of Kyle’s hard-on, once again pumping it in a rhythmic motion, “you want daddy to come inside you?”

Thrusts continued as Kyle struggled to find the ability to speak, euphoria taking over him as he reached his climax, but he finally mustered out a moan and a breathy “yes” while Eric’s cock barged into him.

A few more swift movements from Eric’s hand made Kyle release himself. When the other man saw this, he then thrusted one more time before he came into Kyle, making sure to fill the man up with warm, sweet come. The redhead was sticky with come and sweat, panting as the brunet toppled beside him, breathing as hard as Kyle. The caught their breaths and recomposed themselves before Cartman said, “Wow, Kyle, that was fucking amazing.”

Kyle found himself smiling, but he rolled his eyes at the body next to him, “Shut up, you sound so basic.”

“You shut up,” Eric teased as he cuddled up against the tall man’s body. “Well, now you have another reason to come to South Park besides your family,” he said into a hairy chest. Kyle’s eyes went wide for a moment when he heard that, wanting to retort with a snarky comment. However, the smile on his face was still there, and he planted a soft kiss on the top of the brunet’s head.

“Yeah,” he smiled brightly, “I guess I do have a reason to keep coming back.”

[bluupity]

Once Human AU

Eyo, kinda playing with an au idea where The Narrator was actually once human but had his mind and body wiped when taken into The Parable. Hope you enjoy this little bit I wrote :D He still doesn't know that he was once human btw:

The Narrator soon entered into the human vessel he’d created.

The second he’d entered it, he was rushed with multitudes of sensations. The constant beating in his chest, the actual sensation of air around him, the movement of the muscle fibers strung around his skeletal framework, the friction of bones in their joints. And the overall heaviness of it all, to suddenly physically experience the concept of weight.

“This feels,” familiar, “strange”, The Narrator concluded. He wasn’t sure why he had thought it felt familiar. It was supposed to be strange, not familiar, not at all. Never had he mixed up his words quite like that.  For a moment, the concept of such boggled him more than the sensation of the human vessel. He was an expert with words. He shouldn’t be making such simple mistakes.

Then he paused, taking in the involuntary movement of his chest rising and lowering, of air moving in and out of his nostrils. 

Overwhelmed is what he should be feeling. He was after all a disembodied voice. Ever since his creation, all he’d ever known was the weightless sensation of being, well, disembodied. Motionlessly controlling different structures from different parts of the building, only having his voice as his sense of self. It was who he was. It was all he’d ever known.

So logically, he should be feeling a tad more off from these new human sensations. 

Yet as he tried sounding his voice, speaking through this human vessel, it felt like it was always meant to be like this.

“I am,” he let the words vibrate through his throat and echo through his mouth, “The Narrator.” It should feel strange. It should feel more than strange as he sensed more miniscule sensations, his tongue flicking wherever to form the words, saliva covering his gums and pooling at the bottom, and teeth occasionally grinding across each other.

“I am The Narrator, and this is my…body.” He slowly moved his head, followed by his torso, then his arms, and then his legs. It was slow, yes, as should be expected from something supposedly new. 

He couldn’t put a finger to it, but it rather felt more like re-learning than learning something for the first time. Why did it feel like this?

Why was it familiar strange?  

Why did it feel like home normal?

Before he knew it, liquid spilled over his cheeks, his vision blurred, and his heart drummed against his ears as his whole body shook. 

Why?

He gasped, taking in the rushes of air, while feeling the smooth tiles of the floor. Since when did he start crouching instead of standing? 

The Narrator didn’t know how long he was like this, perhaps minutes, or hours, or even days. Logically, the human vessel wouldn’t last that long, but it still did feel like it. His vision cleared as he slowly rubbed against his eyes, breaths now coming at an even pace. His body ached as he uncurled from his position and laid flat against the floor. It ached.

He should be annoyed, angered, dismayed, by this involuntary unnecessary extreme reaction.

Yet, it was as if the clouds parted and the sun shone upon him. It was as if a choir had sung in perfect harmony. His mouth curved up, his cheeks aching all the more.

He felt alive. The sensation sent him to a rushing high. He felt alive.

He was alive.

And he didn’t know why that feeling made him happy.

[first-impressions-gaming]

As Dusk Falls

Developed by INTERIOR/NIGHT

Published by Xbox Game Studios

Release Date 2022

Tested on Xbox Series X

MSRP 29,99 USD

A moment, just a moment that can slip and cause a reaction, then lead to a series of events. This is the core underlying essence of As Dusk Falls. Let me expand on this, once in a while we come across news on social media or TV, and when we see, hear and read what happens, our reaction could be “oh my god, how did this even happen!?”. We do react to the entire sequence of event from start to finish, but when you live in it, it is chain of events. There are many details and choices to be made during all that time, they do seem small and insubstantial to us as somebody who is outside of the event. The other thing this game opened my eyes is that, there’s always this “no, that thing cannot happen to me, it’s so random, there are 8 billion people on earth, how could it be me?” when we think of an event or situation we can find ourselves in and we count it so rare that even if it did happen it wouldn’t be us, let me ask this, if the event is to occur, it is bound to happen to somebody. Why wouldn’t it be you? As Dusk Falls is a superb example of this kind, let’s jump in.

I’m a sucker for narrative- and story-rich games, especially visual novels. As Dusk Falls is an excellent choice-based game but it uses a different path in terms of past, present and future timelines. After the Chapter 1, the characters experience flashbacks and those flashbacks moments aren’t just there sake of being “flashbacks” or story-filler. Your choices do matter in the past as well, which impact and effect your present timeline. In this case, the game weaves and connects all the timelines in a perfect way that the backstory of all characters are told and presented to you excellently and skillfully, and it means something to the player because you are there, making choices in the past. The past shouldn’t be viewed as second-class storyline or discarded, there are milestone events that have significant consequences for the present timeline. As you go back and forth between past and present during chapters, the sentimental connection you develop for the characters is immersive narrative-wise, and it is a delight to dive into the past and live in the moment when a character experiences a core moment that penetrates into their brain and heart. 

The other highlight of the game is its visual design choice which employs a mix of full-motion and stop-motion movement. When it comes to graphics, the style feels it takes a slight inspiration from water colouring blending with solid colours. When characters speak, walk, move, the visuals are in stop-motion, whereas cars, objects, items etc. move in full-motion. These visual style do give me comic book style frame-by-frame sensation frankly, it works better than I hoped for. Characters’ movement, facial expression, body language are captured in single and separate frames.It could be a bit mind boggling for some people at first, I read some player reviews that claim they got light headaches and couldn’t get used to the visuals. Honestly, I dig this style and definitely it’s a first for me, and it has a positive aspect as well, throughout the game the same visuals are maintained and the player does not experience a “cutscene” for this reason, it feels like the visual novel just plays in front of you seamlessly, when you play a full-action game such as Read Dead Redemption 2 or Call of Duty, there are cutscenes when you, as the player, stop and a scene plays. As Dusk Falls cleverly interconnects gameplay and cutscenes so well that it makes you feel the game flows from A to Z without hiccup. 

The story is so intertwined and delicate that I don’t wish to spoil anything for you, the gist of the game as follows: it is Arizona, 1998: a house burglary goes wrong for three brothers and they attempt to run from the police, ends up in a motel, takes the residents as hostages and hell breaks loose. This is the type of chain of events I mean that can go wrong so fast so randomly, every little or big decision feels like a snap decision and you, as the player, have to make snap decisions under limited time and circumstances. 

The only gameplay mechanic available is decisions by the player. The game allows you 15 seconds to make a decision in minor moments, and there are moments that require time-based quick interactions such as pushing a button once or repeatedly or moving the stick, such as when you are running away from somebody and you have to jump, dodge a bullet. Major decisions which are milestone events are called “crossroads”. These significant decisions lead to branching storylines such as when you decide to hide or leave an evidence that signals there’s an attempted kidnapping. If you decide not to conceal the evidence the police officer spots it and the story takes a turn as the police officer requests backup without the kidnappers noticing it.

In intense moments, you’ve a shorter period to make a decision but at the same time, as the time passes a new decision choice may pop up too. I think this mechanic resembles to how our brains work, we, as people, come up with variety of ideas, not all at the same time. So, in a matter of seconds, the characters may come up with a different angle in the given situation under the pressure and stress.

After each chapter, the game shows your decisions and how it plays out throughout the chapter:

As Dusk Falls achieves so much in a 6-hour period, the characters you play as and witness the lives of others are impactful, hurtful, gritty, touchy and meaningful.

[bright-and-burning]

☕️: What time of the day do you prefer to write?

📚: What are some of the favorite things you've learned while doing research?

🫖: If you had a tea party with your blorbos you write the most, how would it go?

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

☕️: What time of the day do you prefer to write?

fascinating to think abt actually bc i dont know that i have a preference!! i write at work in empty moments a lot, which is during the day, but then sometimes i will also get home from work and hit a groove and the next thing i know it's 11pm. i guess i know @freeuselandonorris writes before work primarily. so i can tell you i absolutely could not ever do that. and it boggles my mind that they do. i don't even write on the train to work, and i write on the train a LOT!! it's cuz prior to 10am i am still slowly turning on. otherwise... whenever i've got a phone or laptop or notebook out and the mood strikes

📚: What are some of the favorite things you've learned while doing research?

oooo. i loved looking at jenson and lewis's handwriting for tlbtl honestly!! tried to make that bit where oscar and lando r looking at their notes at least semi true to life. here's an embarrassing secret actually. i write very sensation-oriented stuff, pwp wise. or at least i think i do. but i have a hard time sometimes, placing bodies in a physical space in my mind. so i very frequently am trying out some weird shapes to figure out what muscles i can feel the stretch in, or if it would be possible to fit shoulders there, or if someone could hook a foot behind a knee like that, etc etc. so that's like, the funniest 'research' i do. sitting on my couch trying to manspread like if someone is sat here... and then... ok.... hm...... do normal elbows go that direction...

🫖: If you had a tea party with your blorbos you write the most, how would it go?

i think it would be a riot actually. like irl my friends are a bunch of 23 year old (ex?) athletes. im quite good at leaning into the occasionally slightly gross very competitive very giggly zoomer boy demographic (cough. once made abt five 22 year old guys leave the dinner table in impressed disgust at a come joke i made. cough). i guess in general im good at matching the vibe and being idk charismatic enough to smooth new encounters over. not to flex my extrovert charm. and i like to laugh and make people laugh. so it'd be fun. imo

writing asks

[deveploment]

Utilizations of digital signage in Singapore

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Public Transportation: Singapore's public transportation structure is highly efficient, and high-level signage works on this standing. Train stations and transport terminals are furnished with steady information shows that update residents about appearances, delays, and direction shifts. This further fosters the development experience and develops a sensation of straightforwardness and unwavering quality in open organizations.

Benefits of Digital Signage

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Singapore's transportation area has been a massive recipient of digital signage innovation. Lodgings and resorts in Singapore utilize digital shows for way finding, occasion data, and limited-time content. Vacation destinations like Island and Marina Inlet Sands use digital signage to direct guests, show intuitive guides, and feature critical attractions and occasions.

Hardships and Thoughts of Digital Signage

No matter its different advantages, executing progressed signage isn't without challenges. Specific issues, such as programming errors or organization issues can disturb correspondence. Besides, the hidden interest in digital signage systems can be colossal, obstructing a couple of associations from making the switch. Also, blissful organization is fundamental. The practicality of digital signage relies vivaciously upon the quality and relevance of the content shown.

The Possible Destiny of Digital Signage in Singapore

As advancement continues, the destiny of modernized signage in Singapore looks empowering. Progressions, like counterfeit intellectual prowess and data examination, are set to work on the limits of modernized shows, considering more assigned and tweaked content movement extensively.

Conclusion

All things considered, digital signage is an unprecedented part of Singapore's metropolitan scene. From retail to public transportation, the impact of digital shows is obvious in how associations confer and attract their groups. As development impels, high-level signage will undoubtedly continue to be created, making it a key piece of Singapore's enthusiastic natural framework. The mix of creative mind and advancement will shape the possible destiny of correspondence, ensuring that Singapore stays at the actual front of improvement nearby.

[markstevensmith]

Mark Steven Smith: An Investigation of Marks Art

Craftsmanship isn't simply a vehicle of articulation; an excursion takes both the maker and the crowd through scenes of feeling, thought, and insight. One such striking excursion is that of Imprint Steven Smith, a visionary craftsman whose work has re-imagined present day craftsmanship. Through his remarkable point of view, Smith has made an inheritance that proceeds to motivate and spellbind craftsmanship lovers all over the planet. Marks smith art driving

The Beginning Marks Art

The tale of Imprints Workmanship started with the energy and inventiveness of Imprint Steven Smith. Brought into the world with an inborn ability for catching the embodiment of life through craftsmanship, Smith sought after his fantasies with steadfast devotion. His excursion as a craftsman began quite early on when he originally got a paintbrush. What started as a basic side interest before long developed into an undeniable profession, bringing forth what is currently known as Imprints Craftsmanship.

Marks Craftsmanship isn't simply a brand; it is a portrayal of Smith's creative vision. It incorporates many imaginative styles, from dynamic to authenticity, each piece recounting to a story that reverberates with the watcher. Smith's capacity to mix various mediums and procedures has separate him in the craftsmanship world, making Imprints Workmanship a name inseparable from development and imagination.

The Extraordinary Style of Mark Steven Smith

Mark Steven Smith is known for his unmistakable style, which flawlessly mixes customary methods with contemporary components. His work is described by strong tones, dynamic creations, and mind boggling subtleties that bring the watcher into the craftsmanship. Smith's pieces frequently investigate subjects of nature, human inclination, and the intricacies of present day life, offering a significant editorial on our general surroundings. Mark Steven Smith

One of the characterizing highlights of Imprints Craftsmanship is Smith's utilization of surface. He utilizes different strategies, for example, layering, scratching, and coating, to make a rich, material quality in his work. This adds profundity and aspect to his pieces, making them outwardly dazzling as well as connecting on a tactile level.

Smith's capacity to pass development and energy on through his specialty is one more sign of Imprints Workmanship. Whether it's the twirling examples of a turbulent sky or the delicate progression of a stream, his work catches the pith of movement, causing it to feel like the craftsmanship is invigorated. This powerful quality is especially clear in his series of scene works of art, where the play of light and shadow makes a feeling of profundity and show.

Marks Smith Art Driving: Another Point of view

Notwithstanding his conventional work of art, Imprint Steven Smith has wandered into the universe of computerized craftsmanship, making a progression of pieces that investigate the topic of driving. This assortment, known as Imprints Smith Craftsmanship Driving, is a special mix of authenticity and deliberation, catching the experience of being out and about according to a new viewpoint.

Marks Smith Workmanship Driving grandstands Smith's capacity to convey the sensations and feelings related with driving. The pieces in this assortment portray different scenes, from clamoring city roads to peaceful dirt roads, each delivered with Smith's trademark scrupulousness. The utilization of lively varieties and dynamic pieces rejuvenates these scenes, causing the watcher to feel like they are important for the excursion.

This assortment likewise mirrors Smith's interest with the idea of development. The demonstration of driving, with its steady difference in view and the feeling of opportunity it offers, is a repetitive subject in Imprints Workmanship. Through his craft, Smith investigates the connection between the driver and the climate, catching the consistently changing nature of the world external the window.

The Effect of Marks Art

Marks Craftsmanship essentially affects the workmanship world, procuring Imprint Steven Smith a standing as one of the most inventive specialists of his age. His work has been displayed in exhibitions and galleries all over the planet, drawing in the consideration of gatherers and craftsmanship aficionados the same. Smith's capacity to associate with his crowd on a profound, close to home level has made Imprints Workmanship a darling brand in the realm of contemporary craftsmanship. Marks Art

One reason for Smith's prosperity is his capacity to advance as a craftsman. Throughout the long term, he has tried different things with various mediums and styles, continuously pushing the limits of what workmanship can be. This readiness to advance has kept Imprints Craftsmanship new and important, guaranteeing that Smith's work keeps on reverberating with crowds, everything being equal.

Notwithstanding his work as a visual craftsman, Imprint Steven Smith is likewise a backer for human expression. He has utilized his foundation to help different craftsmanship drives and projects, assisting with making workmanship more open to individuals from varying backgrounds. Through his endeavors, Imprints Workmanship has become something beyond a brand; a development empowers inventiveness and self-articulation.

The Fate of  Marks Art

As Imprints Workmanship keeps on developing, Imprint Steven Smith stays focused on his vision of making craftsmanship that moves and inspires. He is continually investigating groundbreaking thoughts and strategies, guaranteeing that his work stays at the front of the contemporary craftsmanship scene. Whether through customary canvas or advanced craftsmanship's, Smith will probably keep pushing the limits of what is conceivable in workmanship.

Looking forward, Imprints Craftsmanship is set to grow its arrive at considerably further. With plans for new displays, joint efforts, and ventures, Smith is ready to carry his remarkable vision to a considerably more extensive crowd. For devotees of Imprints Craftsmanship, what's in store holds energizing prospects, with more imaginative and provocative work to come.

End

In the realm of contemporary craftsmanship, not many names stand apart as much as Imprint Steven Smith. Through Imprints Craftsmanship, Smith has made a group of work that is both different and particular, catching the excellence and intricacy of life in a manner that reverberates with individuals all over the planet. Whether through his customary canvases or his computerized craftsmanship, Smith's work proceeds to motivate and enamor, making Imprints Craftsmanship a genuine power in the realm of present day workmanship.

For anybody hoping to investigate the universe of craftsmanship, Imprints Workmanship offers a special and improving experience. With its mix of development, inventiveness, and close to home profundity, Imprints Craftsmanship is something beyond an assortment of works of art; it is an excursion through the brain and soul of perhaps of the present most gifted craftsman, Imprint Steven Smith.