#Red-belted bracket

[lindagoesmushrooming]

[fungi-and-a-funguy]

Daily Fungi Fact 135: The Red-Belted Conk(Fomitopsis pinicola) is common in temperate regions in Eurasia, it engages in nutrient cycling, as well as producing brown rot residues which are stable components of soil in coniferous forests. Both of these roles are very important to the ecosystems it is part of.

[one-hit-boy-wonder]

Hey remember disneybounding? Someone should start comicsbounding

[crudlynaturephotos]

[apple8ees]

hi my name is ivan ebony despair doomed yaoi iii and i have short ebony black hair (that’s how i got my name) with a royal blue sheen that i part on my left and black eyes with red pupils like dried blood and a lot of people tell me i look like yoo joonghyuk (AN: if u don’t know who he is get da hell out of here!). i’m not related to the metaphorical concept of yaoi but i wish i was because maybe it would be requited then. i’m a human but i have a snaggletooth and my teeth are pointy and white. i have pale skin. i am also a human pet and compete in a competition called alien stage where i am in the final brackets (i’m twenty two). i’m a goth (in case you couldn’t tell) and i wear mostly black. my owner loves space hot topic and most of my clothes are from there. for example today i was wearing a black long overcoat over a black turtleneck and black pants, tucked into black combat boots with black belts on my chest and thighs and starry long black gloves on my hands. i was walking through the halls of alien stage. it is in space so there was no sun which i was very happy about. a lot of preps stared at me. i put my middle finger up at them.

[sun-snatcher]

May i have a blurb of Haytham Kenway… a taste… pretty please…

( all credits to @giffedit for this incredible gifset! )

✠ | insufferable ; haytham kenway

summ. Bickerings oft lead to equally heated conclusions. a/n.  A TASTE you say? Here’s 1k of an angry, enemies-to-questionable-allies makeout. No actual smut, but NSFW themes, ofc.

YOU CAN’T RECALL how you got here.

Here, by way of meaning: 

Pinned against Templar Grandmaster Haytham Kenway’s paper-strewn work desk, inkpot spilled over and staining the cuffs of your sleeves, with his hands roving down your sides and your hips pressed hard against his.

“You,” he rasps, bordering a growl. “Are an insufferable woman.”

The proximity, the heat of your panting mingling with his— it’s blistering. Feverish. You want to kiss him. You want to punch him. 

You tighten the bracket of your thighs around his waist, tip the tricorn hat off his head with a defiant scowl. “You should’ve never inducted me into your Order, then, Master Kenway.”

Right. Yes. You vaguely remember now. It’d been yet another typical heated argument; another disagreement and row borne from dredging up old wounds of your ex-Assassin history, of Haytham’s present and obvious distaste of it, despite the fact you’ve proven yourself worthy to the Templars more than once alongside Shay.

Earlier, you’d barely finished your tirade (“You and your dastardly cloak make me so—!”), hands thrown in the air when the ironclad grip of Haytham abruptly circled your wrist.

The others had known better than to interfere when you’d practically been yanked into the Grandmaster’s study for an upbraiding. 

Or, well, what they thought would be an upbraiding.

“Then let us be free of this months-long tension,” Haytham had hissed, instead. “More productively.”

So here you are. Rough-housed and man-handled. You hitch at the bumps and the scolding nips he makes, try to return the same wanton fervor to his jaw and his Adam’s apple, but to no avail. Haytham is a looming shadow, greater than you not just by rank and experience but by sheer, dizzying strength— 

The vicious kisses he bullies against the bitten-red of your lips are charged and ardent. Meant to force you into some semblance of submission; to be docile. Has you gasping for air and resisting him the satisfaction of a moan when he gropes at the flesh of your thighs. 

“Master Kenway,” you choke, nuzzling into the slope of his neck, unable to stop yourself from indulging the heady, masculine, salt of it with an eager tongue.

He groans at the high and tight way you address, call, plead for him, sounding like prey at the mercy of an untamed, starved beast. 

It makes you grin when you realise. Coy as a fox and full of guile. Haytham can feel it curl across his cheek, in your slow languorous tease as you snark, “And here I thought you hated me.”

“Hate is an inadequate term,” he censures, mouthing hot and humid against your skin. “There are no words in any bloody language that can encompass just how— you make me feel.”

It’s a raw confession, as mean and as bitten out as it is. A honeyed, double-edged sword. You make a mental note of it anyway, and try not to contemplate the fact that you have this much power over the Grandmaster Templar, nor let it get to your head— whatever he means by his words. 

“And what, exactly, do you feel?” Your hand expertly wanders past his belt. The innocent petal-touch strikes a lightning bolt of want surging through him. Makes him twitch. “This?”

Haytham doesn’t deign to give you an answer, unsurprisingly. He hates not being in control, after all, and so he makes quick work to put you back in your place: below rank, through yet another savage kiss, a guttural warning nosed on the scant space just below your ear that leaves you subconsciously keening closer.

It does poorly to satiate him. The dangerous yen for something more brutal still burns molten in his stomach; something that tastes warmer. There’s still the bitter anger and bruised pride he holds from the arguments before, and for the ones that’ll surely come after. The blatant disrespect you show whenever you bare your teeth at him, as if he isn’t your superior. 

He wants— no, needs— to sink into you, to see you shut up and aching to be ruined with the thick of him—

“I’ll make you wear nothing but this ‘dastardly’ cloak of mine one day,” Haytham grinds out, voice rough-hewn from his wet and growing appetite. “And then spread you out and take my time with you.”

He greedily licks a stripe up your throat as he says it, carves the whine that escapes you into his memory.

“One day?” Your scoff is breathless and stilted. The feel of his teeth grazing your jugular is intoxicating. “I reckon you’ll— hah— hardly deliver now, Master Kenway, to— warrant another chance after this.”

(Regardless, you entertain the idea. Have entertained, to be more specific. You’ve imagined what it’s like on lonelier nights.

To have him hike your legs up his broad shoulders, tangle your fingers through his perfectly kempt hair. Catch the flash of his wry, canine-sharp smile, rare as they are; face soaked and telling over his nose and down his lips from where you’d have shut him up by forcefully burying him between your thighs and cushioning into your—)

You expect the usual blaze of anger. A challenging snarl. Instead:

“Oh?” Haytham laughs.

Laughs.

And Christ alive— that dark, daring and depraved rumble huffed at your sweat-slicked nape shouldn’t have made you more pliant; more eager for him, but it does. It feels like the damning prelude of an already losing war, now, the way he’s forced your full weight down with such frightening ease onto the desk to look up at him. 

There’s an ominous calm before a storm, brewing frostily in his dilated eyes. He’s conceding, you realise.

And then—

“Tell me to stop,” Haytham breathes. 

It’s the least insulting tone he’d taken with you yet since you’d first begun arguing. A fragile moment of clarity. 

In uncharacteristic tenderness, you feel him thumb gently at your cheek. “Tell me to stop, and I will,” he says, “You have my word.”

Something soft unfurls deep in your ribcage. Takes flight.

“Don’t,” you whisper, trying not to shudder at the English gentlemanly-ness he so likes to wholly fashion himself with to hide his wild, beastly nature— that you’ve so liked to repeatedly claim you found irksome. You tighten your grip reflexively.

(Darling, dearest, dove. You never admit it, but the classy posturing has always been an attractive feat of his. Something about wolves in sheep’s clothing, you think. Something about being rabidly taken for his own animalistic pleasure—) 

“Don’t you dare, Kenway.”

And so the delicate moment passes. Haytham surges his head forward to steal a kiss from you again, inhales a lungful of your cloying scent that’s mixed with the sea-winds from the weeks of sailing aboard the Morrigan.

“Mh,” he hums in assent, nosing his way from your hairline down to the juncture of your neck; letting his calloused hand mould wide around the thin, bare skin of it to feel your bated breath and rapid pulse. He could snuff you out like a light in an instant. (And he supposes you like the thrill of that as much as he does.)

“Then I believe I ought to teach you a lesson or two about respect, dear.” 

Haytham pulls away and cocks his head. As if thinking. As if he hadn’t imagined this a hundred times over since he’d met you, in the darkest hour of every restless night when he’s alone with nothing but his fist jerking between his legs.

“How about we put that smart mouth of yours to good use first?”

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Something SOMETHING about that big strong absolute unit of a man (Nikolai) being reduced to nothing, kneeling down at Price's feet. Complete subspace. Ready to worship whatever comes out of Prices mouth. Doesn't even care what he gets out of it, it's Price that matters and it's Price he desperately wants to please. I'm going feral I need this man destroyed

Nikolai serves John.

cw: Dom/sub, oral sex, handjob.

Nikolai knelt at Price's feet, with a pillow to cushion his knees. The first time they had done that he had stayed on the floor for three hours and his joints had seized painfully. Price had been more angry with himself for not thinking, because Nik wasn't the usual sprightly young submissive he played with, and perhaps Price had been so excited by the sheer size and experience of the man that wished to be brought to bear, that he had forgot about how much Nik still needed to be cared for. It wouldn't happen again. Nik was a rare vintage - the older gent who wanted desperately to serve - and he needed to be savoured.

His head rested against Price's thigh, his eyes lidded, as Price stroked his hair, fingers combing through silky strands that had been washed and brushed in preparation for their session. Price had given strict instructions, right down to the clothes Nik had worn upon arrival, and Nik had obediently followed them all to the letter.

Those same clothes were neatly folded on the chair opposite. Nik was completely naked but for the ropes criss-crossing in a harness and arm tie. His arms were secured halfway up his back, forearms on top of each other, the lines of the ropes worked artfully around the curves of his chest and shoulders, framing them for Price's enjoyment.

It was a relaxed rig. Only intended to make Nik feel enclosed and subdued, not challenged. Artistry over containment. And Price had enjoyed the process of tying Nik up, feeling him relax against the silk, arching into Price's palms and fingers as he had worked. Slow, slow descent into the cradle of trust and submission.

Today was about letting him rest. It had been a difficult week. They had called on Nik three times to put his life on the line to bail them out, and he had come through every bloody time. No hesitation. But Price had seen the tension in his strong back, the tiredness in the lines of his craggy face, and had known he needed some time under to find his equilibrium. Price would give him a massage in their bed later, working out the last of the knots and checking for rope burn, and Nik would sleep deeply and serenely in his arms after.

Price let his pen fall to the desk and looked down at the handsome creature at his feet. He stroked over Nik's broad brow and down the lines at the corner of his eye to Nik's full lips. They were so soft, treated to some balm after his shower as Price had instructed. The perfect contrast to the rough of his stubble. Price felt Nik lap at the pad of his thumb, eyes fluttering, and Price hummed. "Good lad, askin' for what you want."

Price slipped his thumb into Nik's mouth, brushing over his teeth to the pliant wetness of his tongue. Nik's lips closed around his knuckle and he sucked with a soft moan, eyes closing. Price stroked the bristles of his beard, fingertip tracing the outline of his adam's apple as it bobbed, cradling his face against his palm. Nik flexed against the confines of the rope, his thick arms making the knots creak, his wrists twisting.

"Easy, easy," Price chided, smoothing his free hand through Nik's hair. He turned his chair until his knees bracketed Nik's broad shoulders and drew him closer. Nik's eyes dipped, his mouth hanging open as Price pulled his jaw down. "You've been so good tonight, sweet'eart. Gonna give ya what ya really want."

Nik panted, knees shuffling, and his throat bobbed beneath Price's fingers, swallowing the sudden well of saliva as he anticipated his next treat. Price undid his belt buckle and zipper slowly, watching Nik's pupils blow wide, his cheeks flush red. Nik quivered in his grip, barely restrained in his eagerness, and Price heard the soft whine of longing as he pulled his cock out over the waistband of his boxers. He was already so hard, Nik's willing submission, the sight of his powerful body trussed up at his feet, made him want to sink his damn teeth in and rut like an animal.

"C'mon then, sweet thing," Price murmured, guiding Nik's chin forward. He traced the tip of his prick over Nik's upper lip, felt the puff of his breath and heard the tight noise of desperation that spilt from his throat, before moving his thumb to Nik's teeth and feeding his glans over the flat of Nik's tongue. "Oh, fuck me, you are a bloody delight." Price moaned low in his throat, biting on his lower lip as pleasure curled in a tight knot in his hips. Fuck yes.

Nik's mouth welled with saliva, his chin pushing against Price's grip, pleading with wide eyes. But Price knew if he let go Nik would choke himself on his prick, and while that was fuckin' hot, it wasn't really what Price was aiming for tonight. He eased Nik further down his shaft, his crown brushing over the ridges at the top of his mouth until he nudged the spongy softness at the back. "Good lad, nice and easy, such a pretty thing, aren't ya? Fuck."

Nik looked at him with those sad brown Labrador eyes and Price knew he didn't believe a word. He smoothed his hand over Nik's hair again, stroking the backs of his fingers over the softness beside his eyes, down the rough stubble of his cheek. "Look at what you do t' me, love. So 'ard for ya. Just been thinkin' about this all afternoon. Stretchin' yer clever mouth open on my cock. Only one fer me, love."

Nik's eyes softened and Price surrendered a little control, shifting his thumb out of Nik's mouth to the firm line of his jaw. He let Nik suckle his crown, cheeky tongue teasing through his slit, mouth watering at the salty taste of precum. Price leaned back in his chair, lifting his hips forward to expose more of his length for Nik's attention. "Slow," he growled, loosening his grip a touch more.

Nik pulled off his tip with a soft pop and sucked down his length, trailing wet kisses down to the base where he nuzzled into the dark curls of Price's pubic hair. Nik's lashes fluttered against his cheeks, and Price admired the sight of that handsome face next to the ruddy, thick length of his cock. Such a pretty fuckin' view. "Bloody 'ell, gorgeous, how'd I get so lucky, huh?"

Nik looked dazed. Drunk on the taste of Price's cock and the rich, musky scent of his balls. He licked back up to the tip, his tongue far too fuckin' clever for its own good as it swirled over a vein, flicked at Price's frenulum. Price's hips bucked, his fingers tightening in Nik's hair.

"Fuckin' tease," Price growled, taking Nik's chin to pull him down his length. "Time to get to work. Yeah, fuck... Thassit. Good lad, hmm."

His fingers pushed further into Nik's hair, urging him lower until Price's crown popped into the resistance of his throat. Nik was talented. He could suck dick better than any man Price had ever had the pleasure of playing with, and he swallowed now, throat spasming as his lips stretched wide around the base. Nik relaxed his neck, his shoulders slumping, his eyes fluttering closed, as he surrendered control to Price completely. He wanted to have his mouth used, to have his throat fucked, and have no agency over it whatsoever.

Price knew he could be as rough as he liked and Nik would take it. He'd be hard too, his fat cock hanging heavy and desperate between his thick thighs. But Price liked longing it out, teasing in and out of Nik's slack mouth and spasming throat until they were both panting. He scruffed the back of Nik's hair and thrust up from the seat of his chair, setting a slow, constant rhythm; wet and deep and so, so fuckin' hot as Nik moaned, slurped and gurgled around his girth.

Nik's eyes watered, leaving tracks down his cheeks, throat clutching, saliva dripping over his lower lip to wet his chin. He dissolved in Price's grip, nothing but a warm, wet mouth for Price to fuck, and so eager to be of service; the act of supplication, Price's appreciative moans, his praise - "so fuckin' gorgeous Nik, fuckin' look at you" - captured him in a feedback loop of euphoria that sunk him lower into a soft, safe headspace.

Price drew him back to the tip once and Nik looked so beautifully wrecked, eyes misty, jaw slack, saliva and precum connecting his tongue and lips in long strings to Price's cock, his lips red, full, glistening. Nik's hips were twitching, painfully hard cock rutting desperately into the air in search of friction, drooling in a pool of precum onto the floor. So turned on by being used at Price's mercy.

"Jesus..." Price breathed, gazing appreciatively down the length of Nik's body, before thrusting back in with a bitten off growl of raw need. It didn't take long after that, knowing his cock had reduced Nik to pliant bliss, and Price sank deep into Nik's throat as he came. The fact that Nik tried to swallow it all but gagged on the sheer amount made Price moan, cock giving another keen pulse.

Price slumped back in his chair and let Nik's face fall to his thigh, his softening cock resting along his cheek. He stroked tendrils of black hair from Nik's tear streaked face. "Such a good lad, Nik. Always so perfect for me," he murmured. "C'mon, up here."

Nik's legs shook as he stood, unsteady and uncertain without the use of his arms, but he trusted Price to catch him if he fell. Price gathered his large body into his lap, Nik's knees sliding along the seat either side of his hips, and Nik slumped gladly against the warmth of his body, chest to chest, his hands only twisting a little against the ropes. When Price reached between them and took Nik's cock in hand, Nik let out a soft plea. "John..."

"Yes, love," Price answered, stroking slowly from base to tip. Nik was so wet, the glide was easy, his shaft like steel beneath the velvet-soft of his slick skin. Price teased his foreskin a little, gliding it back and forth over his crown, and Nik moaned into the crook of his neck, slit leaking thick beads of precum.

"John..." He said again, and Price felt the nip of his teeth; Nik trying to taste more of his skin as Price's touch teased him higher. "Ah, hnn, ah... boistree, John... poszhyu--ahh!"

Nik only ever got loud like this. He was quiet in bed outside of a scene; low moans, panting, maybe the odd growl, but this desperate, he found his voice, and it was sweeter 'n any romantic one-liner he could muster. Price grinned into his neck, pressed a kiss to his fluttering pulse before capturing it in his teeth, squeezing his prick firmly on the upstroke. "G'won, Nik. There's a good lad, c'mon..."

Nik straightened, sucking in deep, shuddering gasps, his hips bucking into Price's palm. Price slipped a hand over the curve of Nik's arse, sliding his forefinger over his hole to his taint. Nik arched with a soft cry, which only served to reveal all that lovely furred chest for worship. Bisected by rope, Price had made sure to frame his tits perfectly in full hope they would be underneath his mouth soon enough. He sucked over one with hungry, open-mouthed kisses, tongue swirling through Nik's dark pelt of hair as he worked across to the dusky blush of a nipple. He flicked it with the tip of his tongue until it hardened, and then sucked it into his mouth.

Nik writhed, gasping and crying out, his voice breaking around Price's name, his entire body pulling taut, stomach bunched and chest tight under Price's lips. Price pushed up against Nik's taint, rubbing in a firm circle as his hand moved quicker over his shaft, twisting a little on the downstroke just as Nik liked it, sucking harder on his captured nipple.

Nik sobbed out Price's name as he reached his peak, his toes curling, knees clamping hard against Price's hips. His own stuttered into Price's grip, cock throbbing as it emptied thick ropes of cum over Price's t-shirt. Price eased his pace but kept stroking until Nik was hunched over and whimpering pitifully. He nudged Nik's face over until he could reach his mouth, forcing his tongue between quivering lips to taste his own release, swallowing Nik's pleas. When Nik began to soften, twitching with overstimulation, Price stopped, stroking his thigh tenderly instead. "Such a good lad, Nik. So proud of you. Yer did everythin' I asked."

Nik slumped forward, gasping into Price's neck, and Price reached behind his back to tease out the knots binding his wrists. He eased the rope away gently, guiding each arm down from Nik's back, and then slowly tugging the harness off until the ropes could flutter to the floor. "Deep breaths, sweet'eart. I gotcha. Thassit."

Price stroked his flat palms up and down Nik's back, nuzzling a kiss to his neck. He let Nik float for a while longer, before urging him off. "C'mon, bed, gonna look you over."

Nik let himself be guided through the door into Price's quarters, and melted gratefully into the fleece blankets and soft cotton sheets. Price found the Savlon and the massage oil, kicking off his clothes so he could join Nik in bed without a stitch separating them. It meant his cock could sit in the cleft of Nik's arse while he gave him his rub down and Price could enjoy all that plush fur when Nik curled around him later.

"Tuy prekrasen," Price murmured into the back of Nik's neck.

"John," Nik said, so full of affectionate surprise that Price couldn't help but smile into his hair.

"Did I get it right?"

"Da, you are..." Nik yawned into the pillow, "...magnificent."

Price stroked the backs of his fingers down Nik's spine and kissed his shoulder. "Not got a patch on you, love."

Nik hummed. One day, John hoped, Nik would believe it.

[haleswallows]

I will not ask where you came from (Deleted Scene)

A deleted scene for "I will not ask where you came from", my fic for Dead on May-n week. Inspired by @roanawayspoons in the HH server, where they linked this and said it's perfect for puppy!Jason.

CW: NSFW, anal sex, fingering, light pet play

Jason is excited to reveal his new helmet. He's spent a lot of time designing it, ready for a refreshing new look. It's just... a coincidence. The dog-like features. Siren lives rent free in his mind, ok? It wasn't on purpose. Jason is not responsible for his subconscious.

Siren raises an eyebrow, bright red lips pressed to disguise their smirk when Jason first shows them. Lounged on his couch, their dressing gown falls open slightly to reveal toned legs. "Oh, puppy," they demure. "You spoil me. You're so pretty with your new helmet." He can't help but preen under their praise. When they command him to his knees, he goes without single hesitation and kneels at their side. The finger under his chin has his eyes fluttering closed, and Jason obligingly tilts his head back.

“Is this way your way of making sure everyone knows?” The finger traces a line along the seam where flesh meets metal, the slightest scratch of a long nail. “You like being my puppy this much?”

Jason knows the rules. He's a good boy. “Yes.” The new voice modulator grinds the word into a rough growl. Siren does smirk then, grazing a finger over the molded fangs.

“This is very nice, perfect for my puppy.” They playfully tap the subtle snout. “Well, come on then, strip. Show me the helmet without all these distractions.”

Siren likes to tease but not be teased. He does make a show of stripping, muscles flexing and stretching. But it always goes quickly. They reel him in by the buckle while he shucks off the vest, then gloves. “Let me help. You have so many layers.”

While his arms are tangled in this shirt, Siren undoes the belt, then button, then zipper. Without pushing the pants down, Siren slides their hand between compression shorts and the outer armored layer.

“No cup? Oh puppy, did you prepare for me?” They press a finger against the rapidly hardening underside of his cock, balls drawing up with his gasp. “Am I going to find another treat?”

Jason struggles to find words. Even after months and months of this game, Siren's rules, Jason's still so responsive, left gasping. 

“Puppy?” Siren gently prompts, beginning to withdraw.

It takes a few gulps of air to get there. Jason chokes out “One more surprise.”

His efforts earn a reward. Siren wraps a hand around his dick through the soft fabric. They squeeze slightly on an upstroke, teasing the head. “Good boy. You're so good for me, and just me. Wanna show me?”

The praise makes Jason flush, reddening from chest and up his neck. His face feels warm in the helmet. “Yes,” he repeats.

Sadly it means Siren releases his cock, allowing him to toe out of the steel toed boots, unbuckle hostlers, and shove the pants down. Jason’s embarrassed for a second before the compression shorts join the mess of clothes on the floor. All it takes is a half lidded look from Siren, their eyes hungrily tracing from chest to toe, flicking back up to the helmet.

They swirl a finger lazily. Jason obeys, pausing just a moment when his back is turned. “Oh,” Siren breathes out. “Come here.”

He kneels again. Siren cups the cheek of the helmet in their hand and encourages him to prop his arms onto the couch cushion. Instinctually, Jason leans into it, missing the feel of their palm a little bit.

Siren finally sits up from their relaxed lounge, legs bracketing him. Jason's practically in their lap and fully hard now. Their other hand skates up his arm, drawing patterns into his bicep with a nail. He flexes his arms without thinking, Siren giggling. 

“That looks new. Were you excited to buy it? Couldn't wait to show me?” Siren pulls him to sit up straighter, pinches a nipple. With a gasp, Jason arches his back, sits as pretty as he can.

“Yes.” Jason was excited. Is excited, the press of the plug a little bigger than his usual preferred toy. It had taken a little effort to get it in, Jason had nearly come while fingering himself open, thoughts of Siren forefront.

“So cute,” they coo, pressing a kiss to the temple of the helmet. “It matches your helmet. You look so good in red, puppy. Now the question is do you want the toy, or me?” 

Jason shorts out for a moment. He trembles as Siren distracts him with wandering hands. As he opens his mouth, Siren pressed a kiss to his neck, scrapes teeth over the skin. Jason gasps, words flying from his head. Groans when Siren bites harder.

“Words, pretty boy.” A grin pressed into his neck, a hand reaching down his back, a barely there brush of a finger at the base of his tailbone.

He pants. Half crazy from the plug and the constant stimulation. Jason needs to be touched. “You.” His voice is strangled.

“Well, get up here. I'm not getting on the floor.”

Jason slowly crawls up, Siren directing him to lean over the armrest. He feels exposed, hemlet pressed into the fabric, arms curled under his chest. It puts him ass up, cock heavy and hanging between his thighs.

“Just look at you. Beautiful.” Siren admires, pressing a kiss to the small of his back. Jason squirms, pleased with himself and relishing the praise. Then nearly jumps out his skin when Siren suddenly grabs his balls. 

He can barely concentrate on what Siren says, focused entirely on the hand slowly kneading the sack. “I'm going to fuck you, your hands stay right there. No touching yourself, I want you to come on just my dick, Jason. Do you understand? Will you be good?”

“Yes.” He can be good. He can be so good. Something breaks in his brain a little bit, overwhelmed with the promise of being fucked, the promise of more than teasing touches. “Yes, I understand. Please, I'll be good, I'll be good. Please, Siren.”

Siren drapes over his back. A kiss to the nape of his neck gentle and soothing. “Please, what?” A finger presses on the plug, pushing the flare against the stretched rim. He pants.

“Fuck me, fuck me, please. Siren, I want your cock. Want to come for you, want to be a good boy.” The begging erupts from him, Jason wrapped up in the press of Siren's silken dressing gown all along his back, the way their legs frame his.

“Relax for me,” Siren commands, biting the juncture between neck and shoulder. Jason melts into the sharpness of the feeling, breaking through his general fog of need and arousal.

The plug slides out. For a moment, Jason is stretched too wide, too much. Then suddenly he's empty, bereft, clenching on nothing. “Oh, honey.”

A single finger slips easily in, hole still wet with the smear of lube from fingering himself. Jason's hands twitch. He clenches them, and shoves them under his chin. 

A second finger joins the first. Siren hums, slowly scissoring them. They're always so gentle with Jason, so careful as they open him up. “We need a little more lube, sweetheart.”

“Ah,” Jason twitches. It's a few heartbeats before his brain produces a coherent thought. “Pants pocket.” 

They laugh. “Of course. My clever puppy, always thinking ahead.” But it means they remove their fingers to lean for the pants, rooting around in the pockets. When Jason shivers at the loss, Siren runs a hand up his flank, presses a thumb to his hole. “Patience. Don't wanna hurt you, baby boy. You're being so good, I'm going to take care of you. You know what you get when you're good?”

Jason nods into the armrest, eyes squeezed shut. Siren removes their hand. They lightly swat his ass. “Words, puppy.”

“I get rewards.” He twists his head, getting Siren into his peripheral. Their smile is sweet, eyes crinkling with it. 

The reward is Siren pushing two lube slicked fingers into his ass. Jason groans long and shamelessly. After a few moments, Siren easily adds a third finger.

They mouth lines of kisses across the broad span of his shoulders. Fingers pump slowly in and out of his hole, a maddening pace only barely enough to keep him hard. The pads of Siren's fingers just graze his prostate every few strokes. 

Jason is melting. He's burning and panting and fighting every instinct to grip his cock. If he doesn't get more, he's going to scream. Or cry. A chant starts pouring out of him. “Siren, please. I'm ready, I want you, more, please. I… it feels so good, please, please can I…?”

Siren surges forward, pressing their weight all along his back. Their dick slots behind his balls. “Yeah? You want me to fuck you? You asked so nicely, it’d be mean of me to make you wait more.”

They gently remove their fingers. There's the sound of the lube opening again and Jason takes the opportunity to catch his breath. He uncurls his arms, bracing hands on the armrest. 

Then groans again at the stretch of Siren's dick pushing into him. It's slow but delicious. in all the right ways. Jason sets his hips against the push, allowing Siren to rest against him. Siren breathes out a long satisfied sigh against the top of his spine when they finally fully seat inside him. A heartbeat of stillness, Siren caresses his sides in an upward sweep. They pause to grope his pecs before slotting their hands together.

“You have no clue how good you feel, puppy.” Siren presses a kiss to the nape of his neck. With a long slow withdrawal, Jason squeezes their hands. He knows what’s next. He’s been a good boy. They pull out until the ridge of their cock head pulls at the rim. The thrust is hard, driving Jason’s breath out.

Siren’s pace is cruel. Each thrust hard, but just shy of fast enough. Jason writhes under it. He hangs his head, lifts it again, clenches his hands and thighs in turn, arching his back. All the while, his cock and balls ache. Jason needs more, certain a single touch would put him over the edge but Siren keeps a hold of his hands. The sound of their fucking is obscene, and if Jason had even an of sanity to spare, he’d be a ashamed of the continual whine and gasps and mewls he’s making.

It’s obvious when Siren starts to get close. They release Jason’s hands to pull his hips closer, encouraging him to sit up. Impossibly it drives their cock deeper. Siren noses against his neck. “Beautiful and you don’t even realize, god you feel so good. You don’t know what you do to me, puppy. It’s like you were made for me. Can you come without me touching you today?” Every word brings heat to Jason’s chest, he shudders.

And they wrap a hand around the base of his neck, the barest hint of pressure against his throat. Jason comes, losing his voice as pleasure rips through him. Siren keeps up the brutal pace, fucking him through his orgasm.

“Good boy. You’re so good for me, you’re perfect. Stay just like that, puppy.” Strong arms keep him upright, the thrust not stuttering. Jason gets lost in it – the haze of endorphins and praise. Beyond all reason, Jason gets hard again. “Look at you. Filthy, you like it that much? Oh puppy, are you going to come again for me? Can you?”

Siren presses him into the couch, bending him forward until the helmet meets cushion. Jason’s hips tilt and then he’s seeing stars with each thrust. He scrabbles against the fabric, trying to gain purchase to push back. “Right there, huh. You’ve been marvelous. I’m so close, puppy.”

They pant against his shoulder. “Come. Come, Jason.” The command is paired with a hand on his cock, stroking in time with the thrusts. “You can do it, puppy. Beautiful boy.” 

It isn’t Jason’s first dry orgasm. It definitely won’t be his last. Still it shocks Jason, amazed by the way it rocks through him and makes his toes curl. He clenches and finally Siren’s hips stutter. Warmth of a different sort fills him, and Jason swears his dick twitches as if inspired to try for a third.

Time gets a little fizzy for Jason as he focuses on catching his breath, only gasping once Siren pulls out. Sensation slowly returns to his numb limbs. “Careful, honey bee. There you go,” Siren coos gently, guiding Jason to lay on his side. “There’s a wet spot there. We made a mess, huh. You stay put.”

Vaguely, he hears the padding of feet. He concentrates on wiggling his fingers and then toes. “You want this off? Oh babe, you must be boiling in there.” Jason obligingly rolls his head so Siren can access the release on the back. The rush of cool air is a relief, he barely noticed how warm he was. 

Jason hums, cracking an eye open when Siren begins combing fingers through his sweaty hair. “You poor thing, you’re drenched. Wanna get showered?” Absolutely not. The thought of getting up just then is abhorrent, so Jason shakes his head. “No words right now? That’s ok, puppy. Let me get you a little cleaned up and a towel down. Will you have some water for me?”

The washcloth is warm on his skin. When Siren finishes, they press a kiss to his hip bone. He sits up just long enough to drain most of a glass of water. Flopping onto his back, Jason sprawls across the couch.

“Scooch, how am I supposed to cuddle you if there’s no room?” Jason squints at them, but doesn't move. “It's like you think this will stop me.”

They clamber onto him, slotting themselves between his legs to fold arms over his chest. “It's like you think this wasn't my plan,” Jason comments. As Siren settles, he loops his arms around their back.

There's blissful silence for about three seconds. Siren wiggles. “Hey, you ever thought about soaking? Cock warming?”

Jason groans, and not in pleasure. No, he hasn't. But now he is… and, huh. That's new. He considers it, finds he might like that.

“You'd be so cute stuffed with my cock for hours. We could get a mirror for the bedroom, make it so you can see. Your asshole is amazing. You'd be a great cock warmer.” 

When Jason doesn't answer, Siren pauses. “We don't have to. You know my rules, no means –.”

“No, I know. I'm not saying no. Just… give me a few days?” Siren smothers a smile.

“Of course. We can make a whole thing of it. Let me spoil you. Buy us dinner, get some sweet treats, something nice for a bath after. Yeah? Sound good?” They beam at him, and Jason is hopeless.

“You've ruined me.” It makes them laugh, bright and happy. “How are you always like this? You have too much energy.”

They hum, kiss his pec. “Can't help it. Hey, you patrolling tonight?”

Maybe if he could feel his legs. “Nah, I'll do gear and weapons maintenance.”

“Good, you deserve the rest. Want me to grab something to eat when I'm done?” They idly trace a scar on his bicep. “I can even get you some of those disgusting chili dogs.”

“Disgusting, they say. As if you didn't text me last week to beg for four of them.”

They flap hands vaguely in his face, shooing away the teasing remark. “Wait! If I do a seance for Nana Franny again, do you think she’ll make me more birria?”

Jason catches their hands, smoothes a thumb over the bare nails. “Nah, she called yesterday. Her oven is acting up. I’ll go fix it and then we’ll be birria rich.” Siren gasps.

“It’s fate! Hey, wanna pick a couple colors for my nails? You have a good eye. Don’t just pick reds though, puppy.” A phone, lodged somewhere in the couch, starts ringing. Siren surges up for a kiss, digging it from between the armrest and cushion at the same time. “And now I have to start getting ready.”

When Jason bench presses by their hips, Siren makes an appreciative ‘ooh’. Mostly Jason does it to avoid their flailing limbs, and inevitable elbow to the solar plexus he always gets when Siren scrambles off his chest.

“You stay put, puppy. Rest. Drink lots of water.” They pat his chest, then trot down the hall. “Wait, have you ever thought about shibari?”

“Stop it!”

[niobiumao3]

Cadet Tech, pure Lego version! I have some decals to print and place on the torso and the arm (for the little symbol we see them with in the show) and some matching hands for the left-hand head on the way.

CX-2, pure Lego version. I wanted to do a CX-2 which requires zero actual modifications, and this is as good as I could get. I have a decal on the way to adjust the helmet, a BrickArms Firepuncher, and a I'm considering a CloneArmy Customs backpack. In the mean time, I have an armband decal for the right armand and 'CX-Tech' heads drying off from sealing, after which I can swap those in and work on a decal for the chest. I'm also getting a black utility belt (rarer) to add a little silver paint to so it better matches the show.

Parts list below the cut

Cadet Tech

Torso: 973 Torso Plain, light blueish gray; any plain Torso Assembly with this color torso will do (you can remove the arms and swap them)

Arms: 981 and 982, Arm Right and Left, Dark Red; as above, any Torso Assembly with Dark Red arms will suffice (you can remove the arms and swap them)

Hands: 983 hand; medium nougat or medium brown

Legs: 970c00pb0652 Hips and Legs with Black Pointed Line and 2 Red Stripes Pattern; or a pair of plain 970 Dark Red legs works as well

Tablet: 3069pb0295 Tile 1 x 2 with Black Hero Factory Logo and Data Pattern; or any interesting looking 1x2 tile

Heads: 3626cpb2884 Minifigure, Head Dual Sided, Black Eyebrows, Smile with Teeth / Grin with Raised Eyebrow Right Pattern - Hollow Stud (medium nougat) and 3626cpb3151 Minifigure, Head Dual Sided Black Thick Eyebrows, Chin Dimple, Grin with Teeth / Scared Pattern - Hollow Stud (medium brown)

Hair+Goggles: 28149pb03 Minifigure, Hair Combo, Large Thick Glasses with Reddish Brown Hair, Parted and Wavy with Bright Green Lenses, Pupils Looking Up Pattern

Alternative hair+goggles: 28149pb04 (similar to above but looking straight), 28149pb01 (similar to previous but no green tint), 28149pb02 (similar to above but winking)

CX-2

Head: blank, any will do

Helmet: 28631pb06 Minifigure, Headgear Helmet Armor Plates and Ear Protectors with Metallic Silver and Orange Markings Pattern; this is a pretty rare piece, a cheaper alternative is to get a plain 28631 helmet in white and paint it black.

Torso Assembly: 973pb2134c01 SW First Order Crew Member Uniform Pattern / Black Arms / Black Hands

Legs: 970c00pb0871 Hips and Legs with Reddish Brown Straps, Light Bluish Gray Knee Pads and Pouch and Silver Fasteners Pattern

Utility Belt: 27145 Minifigure Utility Belt, brown (pictured) cheaper than black (better match)

Weapon: 57899 Minifigure, Weapon Gun, Blaster SW Long

Backpack: 28974 Neck Bracket with Back Stud - Thick Back Wall black; 61252 Plate, Modified 1 x 1 with Open O Clip (Horizontal Grip) black; 3023 1x2 Plate black; 26047 Plate, Round 1 x 1 with Bar Handle black; 3069 1x2 tile black with image of your choice (or plain)

[skinbeneaththeskull]

80s dave as you requested….

him coming home from tour and not even being able to make it to the bed… taking you in the hallway like a feral animal, body pressed over you and fucking you from behind while he bites at your shoulders n neck. he fucks you so good that your legs give out completely and he just follows you down to the floor n he’s literally laying on you while fucking you, knees bracketing your hips while he wraps his arms around your stomach and holds you to him while he just bunny humps you.

COUGH i’m deranged COUGH COUGH

OH MY GODD P 🫡 yes i will write this

you're on the couch, waiting for your boyfriend to come back from a long tour, haven't seen him in about 6 months or so and you missed him so much. you knew you'd be all over him when he walks through the door, tackling him in a beat hug or something. you had a bouquet of flowers in your hands for him, just for how good he did on tour.

it started getting late, thinking that he wasn't coming home tonight, making you a little worried. though, soon enough the door was jiggling open, seeing the ginger in the doorway.

"Dave!"

you screamed, throwing the flowers on the ground and jumping on him, clinging to him like a tree as you hugged him tight. he held you, arms rested on your back and ass, peppering him in little kisses all over.

"didn't think you'd be this excited to see me-"

he chuckled, returning the kisses before you came off of him, bending down to pick up the flowers, pulling his shirt down to hide the boner be got from seeing you.

"i got these for you!"

you smiled, holding them out for him. he smiled crookedly before taking them and placing them on the coffee table.

"thank you, baby,"

he hummed, pulling you closer.

"but i think i need something else right now,"

you were confused, furrowing your brows.

"are you hungry? we could order something if you'd like?"

he laughed again, massaging your hips in circles.

"no, not really. but- yknow.."

he reached down to your ass again, slapping the fat as he smirked once you let out a yelp.

"haven't seen you in so long and someone else misses you too."

he pointed down to his bulge, biting him lip.

"please? wanna make you feel good."

you knew you were just as horny, but you were a little stunned by how straight forward he was being.

you started to take off your dress before he stopped you.

"keep it on, gonna ruin you and that skimpy dress."

he groaned, unbhckling his belt as he slid off his pants and boxers, picking you up and holding you against the wall. his dick pressed against your inner thigh.

"fuck... missed this pussy so much,"

he brought two fingers down to toy with your clit, shoving your face in the crook of his neck, whining.

"hurry.."

you whined, needy for his cock.

"what was that? couldn't hear you, speak up."

his dick was pressed against your sopping folds now.

"i said hurry! please fuck me already, Dave..."

you whined, he listened and shoved every inch of himself inside you. your pussy already clenching around his length.

"yeah, squeeze around me, baby. atta girl..."

he mumbled before tightening his grip on your hips, causing the flesh to turn red as he fucked you up and down, you scratching at his back.

"m- missed you so much.."

you whimpered, which only caused Dave to fuck you more aggressive.

"not as much as me,"

he said, speeding up before you were moaning directly into his ear.

"gonna cum already? i can feel you squeezing around my fuckin' cock, pretty."

he was fucking you through your orgasm, louder noises coming from you, getting him more worked up.

"'m gonna!"

you squealed, the pace that he set was toe curling, making your clit throb with every thrust.

"go ahead then. cum for me, princess."

he groaned, spreading your legs wider before you came all over him, your legs shaking before you fell down, Dave on top of you now.

he wrapped his arms around your belly, hunched over and fucking you on the ground now.

he didn't care where you guys fucked, but he needed his release so bad.

"fuck! shit... gonna fuckin' fill you up.."

he mumbled, bunny humping you as your face was shoved into the floor, moaning and letting out small cries.

"shhh.. sh, it's okay, jus' lemme fill you up, baby. im so close-"

he kissed down your back, trying to comfort you.

you clenched around him again, him bringing a calloused fjnger to play with your clit, pushing you over the edge while you came again. the clenching made him cum, half of his seed buried inside of your dripping cunt, the rest being on your ass.

"oh fuck.. look at you, darlin'."

he huffed, grabbing you by the hair to pull you up before he kissed you.

"fuck, missed you so much. you don't even know, sweetheart.."

[linkedspirit-fanartfunart]

[Image Description: A character lineup of the Zeldas of the Linked Spirit AU, each labeled. Lady, Hero's Zelda, she/they/he: She is tan with a blond braid and the hair in front of her ears is wrapped in a dark purple ribbon. She wears purple pants and fingerless gloves. He wears a blue corset and a pink dress with ruffled sleeves and a split skirt. He wears dark blue boots with gold diamond patterns on the side. Zelda, Skyward Sword, she/her: She's tan with blond hair with straight bangs, her side bangs tied with ribbon and a red and blue feather. She has a teal beret and vest. She wears a white shirt, and magenta skirt. On one wrist, she wears a goddess bracket. She wears a wrap under her belt that has a light purple bird symbol. Princess, The Legend of Zelda, LoZ Cartoon, she/her: Dark skinned with curly red hair in a large bun. She wears a gold tiara and pink bow in her hair. She wears a purple shirt with princess sleeves and pink pants, with a light blue vest-skirt. She wears brown boots that go above her knee. Briar, Adventure of Link, she/her: She has a warm-light skintone, with red hair and a silver tiara. She wears a red puff-sleeve bodice and a red-orange bell skirt. Twilight, Twilight Princess, she/her: She is pale, with brown hair tied in a bun and ponytail. She wears a dark purple dress with a pale purple bodice. She wears long white gloves, and golden shoulder armor. The skirt banner has the triforce, the Hylian symbol, and simplified shapes of the light spirits. She wields her sword in front of her. Bloom, Breath of the Wild, they/them: They are pale with chin-length blond hair. They wear a white shirt and blue vest, with a thin ribbon tie. They have black pants, brown boots and a wide decorated belt. Lantern, CDi: Wand of Gamelon, she/her. She is tan with light blond hair and blue eyes. She has her arms folded, wearing a purple cloak and light purple dress. She wears a blue vest over her dress. She has a magic lantern on her hip attached to her belt.

Sheik, Ocarina of Time, she/he: The adult Sheik matches Sheik from Ocarina of Time, holding a golden lyre. Next to him is Kid Zelda, who is tanner, and her dress is collared, with pink lines in the skirt, otherwise, she matches Kid Zelda from Ocarina of Time. Tetra, Wind Waker, Phantom Hourglass, she/her: Tetra has dark skin, and light blond hair in a bun. She has a roc and a white feather in her hair. She wears a blue vest with gold trim, a red scarf and sash, and her light purple tunic-shirt has a long end with the triforce symbol and blue wind waker spiral patterns. Her shorts are white and baggy, and she wears sandals with straps up her calf. She has a tattoo on her bicep of crossed swords. Phantom, Spirit Tracks, she/her: A dark skinned 12 year old, with long curly blond hair with a white streak of hair. She wears a crown with horn-like spikes and white feathers behind her ears. She wears a pink dress with a purple bodice with pink spiral patterns. She wears gold jewelry on her belt and neckline with dark purple shoulder pads. Her hands are covered with long white gloves. Her dress banner is dark blue with a gold wing design and triforce. Sunflower, A Link to the Past, Oracle of Ages, Oracle of Seasons, she/they: She is tan skinned with blond hair. She wears a light purple dress with gold shoulder pads and bracers. Their apron is a deep pink with a red triforce and triangle patterns, and her belt holds two golden tassels. She wears a white cape. Art, Link Between Worlds, she/her: She is light-skinned and she has blond hair with center parted bangs. She wears a white dress with blue trim and a white cape. Her pink apron is decorated with gold patterns and triforce. She has golden shoulder pads and bracers, and gold tassels hang off her belt. Mini, Minish Cap, Four Swords, Four Swords Adventures, she/her: She has tan skin and red hair in a high ponytail framed with white feathers. She wears a light pink dress with a white cape clasped with gold. She wears pink gloves and tan boots. She wears a pink bodice with white trim, and a banner is attached to her belt. The banner has the trifoce symbol and a gold kin-stone like symbol surrounded with the Minish Cap Element symbols. End ID]

Zeldas!! I lowkey needed a reference for myself. SO, here's the girls! And yes I did name TP Zelda Twilight to be confusing :P (But mostly because I think the one who got called The Twilight Princess by Midna deserves to have the name Twilight)

Link to the Links

[edgelord-battle-bracket]

EDGELORD BATTLE BRACKET 2024: ROUND 2

Propaganda:

Seto Kaiba:

Seto Kaiba is an orphan. He's also a billionaire. He's all alone and nobody understands him. He also has a devoted younger brother and a whole gaming company. At one point he and his brother sunk an artificial island to prove a point. He has beef with a ghost. He has a jetpack. And a private jet. Both of these are shaped like a dragon. Specifically one dragon, blue eyes white dragon. Because he is in love with the dragon. The dragon is a card. He is in love with a card.

His abusive adoptive father committed suicide after he beat him a chess. The main character trapped him in a card for being a bit of a dick. Despite most people never recovering from punishment games Kaiba comes back; hes much worse. He makes a whole death game amusement park to kill his classmate in revenge. He makes this whole deal a day 1 attraction for people to watch. He then gets trapped in ANOTHER punishment game, a mind puzzle to find his true self, and comes back AGAIN through sheer force of will. His true self is not in anyway less evil. Its arguably worse than his first appearance but hes not trying to kill the protag anymore so we dont care. Hes arguably NOT the edgiest character in Yu-Gi-Oh.

Metal Sonic:

somewhat the blueprint for our reigning edgelord. a robot copy that thinks he's the original and HATES the real thing. when he rebels he first takes on a spikier form as neo metal sonic, complete with studded belt and black cape.. his end goal is called METAL OVERLORD and is a gigantic fucked up dragon robot. besides that he normally can't talk and i feel like the amount of inferred seething you get from his red glowy eyes is something special. he has sharp little hands and the way he swipes at people with them tells me he WANTS TO STAB SO BADLY. he's my special little guy.

[ashfae]

A thing I'd like to see in Season 3

I love depressed angry divorcee Crowley as much as anyone, but have you considered this?

[The Scene: Somewhere Not in the UK. Aziraphale stands with a group of Rather Dubious Sorts, who he has come across by accident while attempting to…well, that’s a long story. They’re detaining him not-quite-forcibly and saying he’ll need to speak to The Boss before they can let him go. He’s clearly nearing the end of his patience. A moment of silence. Then, music starts to play in the background.] Stomp stomp clap. Stomp stomp clap.  [Aziraphale looks up, frowning slightly.] Stomp stomp clap. Stomp stomp clap.  [The camera focuses on the wheels of a car, dark and menacing and taking a curve at a controlled but much too fast speed.] Stomp stomp clap. Stomp stomp clap.  [The car screeches to a halt. The door opens. We see a dark, snake-skin boot, black with a single line of red circling above the sole like an inverted halo.] Stomp stomp clap. Stomp stomp clap.  [As the chorus of “We Will Rock You” plays we slowly pan up from the boot to dark slim trousers, the edge of a black Burberry trench coat, a familiar oversized snake-head belt buckle. Above that is a Tom Ford-style shirt open to the abdomen, a slender V of skin revealed up to the neck, bracketed by lapels with a subtle paisley design in black thread. A throat, decorated by a silver chain. Jaw, thin lips, a prominent nose. Sunglasses. The Serpent of Eden grins like the snake he is.] Crowley: All right, lads. Ready to cause some trouble?

...all right, I just want a dramatic re-entrance with "We Will Rock You" playing in the background, but really can you blame me?

[autisticempathydaemon]

I know this little chapel (on the boulevard)

Christian and his plus one get bored after the Shaw double wedding ceremony.

Thank god a church is never lacking in secret, confined spaces to entertain oneself in.

Tags: Alexis/Christian, surprise bitch you thought you’d see the last of me, me being my one true rarepair love, Mild violence and language, PG-13 intimacy, the wedding was in a church but was not very religious beyond that, my entry for the Skyside Hot Boi Honeymoon event

Also available on AO3

On a beautiful June morning, a church just outside downtown Dahlia reverberates with the sound of the Shaw weddings: joyful chit chat, rice falling to the cobblestones, tolling wedding bells, and guests making out in the confessional.

“Alexis,” Christian starts, interrupted by full, painted lips moving against his and freshly manicured hands pulling at his tie. “You promised me you’d behave.”

“Mm, did I?” Alexis asks, tugging lightly on Christian’s lip with dull, human teeth and grinning as his sharp intake of breath rings loud in the tight, confined wooden booth. “That doesn’t sound like me. Maybe we should take you to the vet to get your ears checked.” Crimson talons travel up his torso to pinch at said ears, scratching the tender skin behind them, and Christian digs his own nails into Alexis’s waist to not shiver at the sensation.

“Then it’s a good thing I recorded you saying it,” he says with snark and a playful nip at her lips. Alexis pulls away from him, enough so Christian can see her narrowed silver eyes and the amused, sharp quirk of her grin in the sliver of light through the confessional doors.

“Did you really? My word means so little to you?”

“Yeah, as it should,” Christian says, sitting back against the sill of the confessional screen and jerking his chin up in her direction in a defiant, waiting gesture. A beat, a breath, a moment where the honed steel of her eyes on his holds him captive like a dagger against his throat, and Alexis laughs. It’s a bright, surprisingly girlish sound, one Christian relishes, and he can feel the timbre of it in his chest when she presses herself back against him, stepping into the waiting welcome of his open legs. He also feels her cool, nimble fingers making light, easy work of his belt and a passing wonder as to why he’s trying to stop her again.

“Petal, we’ll miss the reception,” Christian protests as he tilts his head back against the screen window.

“We won’t miss much,” Alexis croons, lips quick and hot against his pulse, fingertips teasing and tempting against his stomach. “Someone will catch a bouquet. Many someones will get wasted. There’ll be pleasantries, speeches, crying, and terrible food.”

“Dancing,” Christian adds disdainfully, his hands slipping from Alexis’s waist to the swell of her ass, swathed in wine-red satin.

“Dancing,” she concurs, trailing her nails down the tuxedo-d thighs bracketing her thighs and massaging the tight muscles beneath her hand in that way that makes the werewolf melt and wag his metaphorical tail. “It will be boring, pedestrian, draining in a way that won’t be fun for either of us. Have we not suffered enough saccharine banality and cheap champagne today?”

“God, you’re such a fucking snob and princess,” Christian says before pulling Alexis in for a kiss.

“You like it,” she says, unwilling to let him have the last word, before wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down, closer, tighter. The wooden slat beneath Christian creaks ominously, loudly in the confined space, but that’s the least of his concerns as his vampire’s body presses flush and plush against him. With a quietly smug curl of the lips, she lets herself be pulled in turn, into him, against the hardening heat of his body. They push and prod and preen under each other’s hands and kisses until Alexis has her back to the opposite wall, Christian peering down at her even in her heels.

“We’ve got to go,” he says quietly, the words soft and resigned against her cheek.

“I haven’t got to do anything,” Alexis responds, lips following the slope of his jaw to press a warm kiss to his ear and a playful nip to the lobe.

“Except be difficult maybe,” he says, laughing and leaning into the warmth of her breath and mouth. “C’mon, princess. Your audience and loathing public await you. We can’t not make an appearance, you haven’t even made anyone threaten your life yet.”

“Vinny already threatened to slit my throat this afternoon when I stole his coffee. Been there, done that, onto better things. Maybe even onto you, if you’d behave and stop being a bore.” Alexis’s hands travel down his chest to toy with his undone belt, and a heat flares in Christian’s blood, his cheeks, even as he lightly bats her hand away.

“Time out, Getty.” Alexis rolls her eyes, groans a gruff, inelegant sound, and acquiesces, placing her hands in his with an unimpressed glare. “You don’t like it when I fuck you in my queen-size bed. You complain about the thread count and how your bones ache in the morning- your immortal, practically invulnerable bones. No way am I going to fuck you in a glorified closet when I’m going to have to hear you bitch about it later.” His girl’s mouth opens, jaw dropping as she makes an offended, affronted sound and goes to retort. Christian smacks the curve of Alexis’s hip- quick, familiar, and done. She hisses in response, in indignance, and he sticks his tongue out at her, childish and mocking. “Yes, you would, and you will. Just do it after I do the chivalrous thing and show you off to my friends and family, alright?”

“Since when are you chivalrous?” Alexis retorts, smacking his thigh in kind with a dig of her nails into the suit fabric for good measure. “And since when are you so excited to parade me around like a shiny toy? Do you have someone other than friends and family you’re trying to impress?” Frustrated and more than a little vindicated, Christian throws his arms in the air, the drama of the action undercut by the thump of his hands hitting the short, confessional ceiling.

“I knew that’s what this was about, you bitch. You are not as slick and sly as you think you are.”

“Neither are you,” Alexis snarls. “I should-“

“-should get going before we miss the party!” Asher says, opening the confessional door just enough so the spatting couple can see his turned back. “You should also get yourselves covered and decent. We’re in a church after all.”

“What are you doing here, Asher?” Christian asks, flustered and hurriedly tucking in his shirt, fastening his belt. Alexis, in contrast, is stony with an imperious curl of a frown on her face as she adjusts the bust of her dress. The werewolf steps on her toe in his haste, and she clicks her tongue at him before fixing his tie. “Don’t you have a reception to get ready for?”

“Hard to do when I’m missing a groomsman.” Asher says, turning to grin and peek at them through the fingers covering his eyes. “Are y’all done dealing with the fact you both have exes here- who also came with their mates, by the way- so we can get this party started?” His grin is both beatific, shit-eating, and unrelenting as the couple deal with one of the day’s grooms overhearing their argument.

“Bite me, Talbot,” Alexis snaps, checking his shoulder as she pushes past Christian and steps out the booth. Asher’s grin only widens, the sparkle in his eyes brightening, even when Alexis turns her nose up at the hand he offers her.

“That’s a privilege reserved exclusively for my mate and new spouse, but the interest is much appreciated, Miss Solaire.” The newlywed punctuates the flirtation with a saucy wink and can’t help but laugh at the twin looks of revolt and disgust they give him.

“C’mon, Alexis,” Christian says, taking her hand and looping it around his arm as he ushers them around the beaming, besotted groom. “His marital bliss is turning my stomach. Let’s get going before his smug face makes me hurl.”

“Our reception might be the wrong place for that, especially since you’re in the wedding party, Chrissy!” Asher pats the other wolf on the shoulder before making his way out the church, walking backwards through the door with a playful flare and an accusatory finger. “Don’t make us wait long. I don’t want to get wolf hair on my tux, but I will if I must, and you know Milo will lose his shit if that happens!” Christian shoos him away with an insistent, annoyed gesture but makes his way to Alexis’s Corvette all the same, opening the driver’s side door for her and lending a hand as she sweeps the fabric of her dress into the seat.

“If you so much as touch Amanda, I’ll rip off your hands and make it look like an accident,” Alexis says, fixing her lipstick in the visor mirror

“It’s a good thing I upgraded and have my hands full with you. Though I reserve the right to change my mind and wash them clean of you if you flirt with Sam. Then I’m leaving you- both, out in the sun.” Christian leans an elbow on the center console, face confident and expectant and once again vindicated when his girl meets him in the middle with a swift kiss and a gentle hand fixing his mussed hair.

“Cute. Now put on your fucking seatbelt so we can get this over with.”

[suresne]

Paul McCartney Character Sheet (Disco Elysium)

4 INTELLECT / 2 PSYCHE (+1 SUGGESTION) / 1 PHYSIQUE / 5 MOTORICS

SKILL LIST (canon equivalent in [brackets] where applicable)

INT (4)

LOGIC: Put that classical grammar school education to work. Exercise those brain cells!

SONGBOOK [ENCYCLOPEDIA]: Keeps track of important trivia. Mostly music related, but there’s some miscellaneous facts crammed in the margins, as well.

DIPLOMACY [RHETORIC]: Powers of speech and persuasion. Because your way is usually the best way, especially if you can make someone else think it was their way all along.

MACH SCHAU [DRAMA]: (German: “Put on a show!”) Performance skill. Croon seductively into the microphone or scream your head off. Either way, the crowd is gonna go wild.

CONCEPTUALIZATION: The art criticism skill. Ability to see and understand the big picture and come up with ambitious creative projects.

BALLADEER [VISUAL CALCULUS]: Songwriting skill. Song lyrics form in your head based on current events and your surroundings and take on a life of their own in the world as you go about your day.

PSY (2+1*)

MAJOR KEY [VOLITION]: Ability to look on the bright side, even when things are looking grim. Keep your Morale up.

LOOKING GLASS [INLAND EMPIRE]: The creative mindset. Causes you to notice things others might not: perhaps even the supernatural. Greatly enhanced by mind-altering substances. Shared skill with songwriting partner John Lennon.

EMPATHY: Self-explanatory. The ability to not just understand another person’s pain, but to experience it yourself. Often felt and expressed through song.

MANAGER [AUTHORITY]: The leadership skill. After all, someone has to be the grown-up around here.

FOUR-HEADED MONSTER [ESPRIT DE CORPS]: Beatle mindreading. All 4 Beatles have this skill and use it to communicate amongst themselves, to the frequent chagrin and confusion of outsiders.

SUGGESTION*: Your signature skill. This skill makes you irresistible. The ability to charm others and thereby influence their behavior to get what you want.

FYS (1)

RHYTHM SECTION [ENDURANCE]: As the bassman, it’s your job to keep that deep pulse going. If you stop, then everything falls apart, and what happens then? Shared skill with Ringo, the drummer. 

NOLI ME TANGERE [PAIN THRESHOLD]: (Latin: “Touch me not.”) The rockstar life isn’t for the faint of heart. You need to be able to take a certain amount of abuse—mental, emotional, and physical. How better to survive than to keep yourself at arm’s length from the people and things around you?

SCOUSER [PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT]: You may not be brawny, but you’re scrappy. You grew up playing in old bomb shelters by the docks of Liverpool. You cut your teeth in the red light district of Hamburg. You’re no fookin’ pansy. Defend yourself. Shared skill with all 4 Beatles.

AMPLIFIER [ELECTROCHEMISTRY]: Turn it up. Way up. Drown out everything else. The sex, drugs, and rock’n’roll skill.

THE UNDERGROUND [SHIVERS]: The London art and music scene is abuzz with activity, and you thrive in its streets, galleries, clubs, and happenings. You always have a pulse on London’s Place to Be, because The Place to Be is wherever *you* are, whether you like it or not.

FEEDBACK [HALF LIGHT]: The coping skill. For when things are going off the rails and you’re hanging on for dear life. Exert control over the situation or distance yourself from it completely. Those are your only two options.

MOT (5)

VOCAL VIRTUOSO [HAND/EYE COORDINATION]: Your vocal dexterity: go from falsetto, to chest voice, to growls, screams, belts, and yells. Makes you a beast of vocal performance. 

PERCEPTION: Self-explanatory. Your senses: how perceptive you are.

DOUBLE TIME [REACTION SPEED]: Your sharp reflexes and quick wits mean you can turn on a dime, and very little escapes your notice. By the time those around you realize what’s happening, you’ve already gotten a read on the whole situation. 

CALLUSES [SAVOIR FAIRE]: The acrobatics skill. You’ve always been a bit of a show-off and a daredevil. Scamper and climb to your heart’s content—just don’t look down.

SOUTHPAW [INTERFACING]: The ability to master almost any musical instrument with ease. Left-handed, of course.

COMPOSURE: Your poker face and sense of put-together-ness. Look good for the cameras and the fans. 

[popcornforone]

MAY

From the Marcus Pike Fan Fic Diary

Master list

April

Sorry you were meant to get this a few weeks ago & then I had an idea so delayed this, but the diary is still going strong. This is more about their relationship than the sex, but it’s still there.

Synopsis:- Marcus plays in a band & you always tag along to see them perform at the local bar.

Word count:- 1850

Warnings:- DO NOT READ IF TOU ARE UNDER 18! Established relationship, pining, swearing, admiring, anal sex, other sex implied as well, alcohol, being a muse. Yea I think that’s it. If you’ve read any of the 4 chapters before this you will know what this diary is like.

Thanks as always for the read peoples, I hope you enjoy.

I love band night. Our local bar every Wednesday puts one on. We’ve seen loads of acts that have made it big over the years. It was the third night that Marcus & I went to this that he popped to the toilet & left me at the bar. The bartender knew what was about to happen, they winked at me as the mc took the stage & then on walked Marcus & his band “So Selfish”. My jaw hit the floor, my panties damp instantly as he strummed that base guitar. We’d only had sex a few times & I wasn’t sure exactly how I truly felt. Safe to say that night, he strummed me like a man possessed . So in the zone. It was the first time I ever squirted as that thumb & fingers had me quivering in desire.

So last night I knew he was playing. I no longer have to turn up with Marcus when he played. The staff knows when I get here what my drinks order is & where my favourite spot to watch him from is. I want the correct amount of reverb from his voice. I know how he’s gonna sound smooth then rough & then smooth & it’s gonna make me feel all unnecessary when he screams the word “& I know you’ve gone all naughty just for me” I know it’s about me. He is the only man I’ve left fuck my arse & he knows that there’s a huge chance that this happens after band night. I turn into a little groupie for Marcus & he can have a back stage pass.

On he & So Selfish walk. Gone are his agent clothes, replaced by a lose grey tshirt that will stink of sweat by the time I peel it off his body tonight. His jeans dark charcoal & those doc martin boots peek out below them. The hair is ruffled but it’s not quiet bed hair. His belt buckle in silver & black has a snake on it. The eye a red gem. Keeping its eye on the crowd. His arms are bare from just above the elbow, his wrists have bracelets & ties on them. Who’d have ever thought soft little Marcus, the worlds best & most professional agent, would be a rocker like this for peoples enjoyments every couple of months. I notice the brackets & see there is one that’s slightly different, it’s glistening white & blue when the rest are black or red.

“What’s up the jesters” he grabs the mic & says & its meet with a very large cheer. The bar is always packed on Wednesdays for band night. “If you don’t know us by now we are So Selfish we play soft indi rock & for 90mins tonight we are here for your entertainment, so please try not to get drunk until our third half an hour.” It’s met with laughter & Marcus scoffs & he looks up to see me. I do a shy wave. I’m not meaning to match him but I’m in my long floaty grey vest top which has a butterfly embroidered on it. My pale blush wash jeans & my converses can’t be seen bellow the counter I’m leaning on. There’s about 10 rows of people between Marcus & I but I don’t care. I see his little smile. He knows where to look for me & I raise my glass of whisky to him & wink. His eyes dazzle & he smiles. “Right let’s get to this our first song is Ruined” he turns to his band who i know all to well by now & they all nod. The drummer counts in & they begin their first 30mins at 7:30pm.

During their second 30mins a group of girls, very blonde giggly & busty make their way to the front to cry & catch Marcus eye. I’m happy for him to look but I know he’s not gonna touch. On a normal day none of these girls would give my man the time of day. He’s said before he met me, that being the lead singer in a band meant he got attention but they just wanted the fling & he’d always been after the real thing. They might stand inches from my man screaming wanting him to drip sweat on their boobs but they will never get the satisfaction I get from him. I can still smell him from here. His scent is extraordinary anyhow, but when his adrenalin pumps & he’s in the zone, it’s a real turn on. My pheromones go into overdrive & always make me broody. He entertains the girls a few kisses are blown as he sings “but you’re just trouble”.

Before the third & final 30mins he & the guys hit the bar & I order 2 double whiskys, with a dash of water on ice. As they both arrive at where I’m sat, a large firm hand graces my waste.

“Baby”

“Handsome” he nuzzles his head into my neck as he says this & I gasp. His lips pepper me with kisses making me turn red & close my eyes as I start to moan. I flinch when he retracts.

“How’s it going so far?” His large fingers trail around the rim of his glass.

“Phenomenol as usual Marcus”

“Well you always say that”

“It’s the truth”

“Is it or are you just addicted to the lead singer?”

“Maybe” we both take large gulps of our drink. “I mean he’s so sexy, & not just tonight” we both smoulder at each other, our lustful gazes not dropping. Eyes only close when he takes my lips deeply. The way that hand feels against the side of my face & neck. I hear a few people murmur about the kiss but it makes Marcus go deeper. A kiss of lust, sweat, whisky & love connecting two people who feel so alive.

“God I love you” he whispers in my ear.

“Right back at you Marcus” I say & grab his hand, stroking over those fingers. I then feel him shuffle off the new bracelet & slide it onto my wrist.

“Don’t look at that until the time is right baby, you’ll know when” he downs the rest of his whiskey & we kiss once more before he & the band get ready for the third round.

The temptation to look at what he’s put on my wrist is huge. It feels like beads, as I run my hand around it. But I don’t. He always has little Easter eggs in his shows for the select few who know the band. Today is obviously a joke about us.

I sit there in awe during them performing. They don’t want massive fame. They are happy playing a gig every couple of months just here in dc. They are all just good friends who like to play & are decent. I sit there sipping on my next drink & smile at him. He is definitely getting a back stage pass tonight. He sings the song about that & then they pause. He looks at his lead guitarist. The way the sweat drips off his head when he is in side profile is so sexy. I’m so turned on. My man looks so hot, so rough. He’s my sweet little Marcus who calls me his good girl, but tonight he can choke me out & call me a slut.

“Before we do are normal last 3 songs I want us to do a cover song if that’s okay, we only rehearsed this recently but it means a lot to me & someone special in the crowd tonight.” My eyes widen he isn’t is he “so if she looks down at her gift, she will know this song but to the rest of you just enjoy.”

I look down. It’s a blue & white friendship bracelet. A black & a pink heart are on two beads with the letters YOYOK & then blue & white beads. It’s my favourite Taylor Swift song & Marcus has always laughed that I love my rock & proper music & then that I’m a Swiftie. But tonight he’s singing it. The band play it & I try not to cry, stroking the bracket for comfort. My man & his friends are playing something so personal to me & I sit there trying to be calm. Inside my body my heart races. My brain is screaming. Everything is shivering. This is so personal but also so much more than that. I eventually give in & let the tears fall down my face especially when he winks at me. I’m an emotional wreck.

The rest of the gig is a blur I was in a trance, but I remember kissing his lips like I needed it more than water after the show. He squeezed by arse & the way his sweaty hands roamed across me gave me a sensual sensation. I don’t remember the drinks afterwards or the taxi back to our place. The first thing I remember is him sucking my nipples.

“Marcus” I moaned. My own hands inside his boxers getting him harder, precum staining the insides. We didn’t even make it to the bedroom. I was naked & on all fours as he licked away at me & then growled as he eventually rubbed his throbbing head against me.

“Back stage?” He slapped my arse.

“VIP my sexy rock… OOOOOHHH GOD!” I screamed. He’d lubed me up before this but he didn’t go slowly. Marcus was rampant, my arse was filled to the brim as I gripped onto the sofa with all my might, trying to catch my breath.

“Like that baby”

“Fucking love it” I moaned back his base fingers are holding one of my hips while the other strums my clit, I know how fast those fingers go.

“Mmm mmmm Marcus”

“Fuck baby” he has never been so rampant in his life. I didn’t know anal could feel this incredible but it does. He didn’t even tease with his fingers to open me up like he usually does. He’s balls deep pumping away into my arse as I screamed for more.

“Fuck oooh fuck yea baby, it’s so fucking good”

“Fuck oooh fuck, why is this even tighter than your cunt.”

I have no idea how long it lasted but I know that when he’s about to cum he takes his penis out of my arse, slotting it quickly inside my quivering pussy. I’d had multiple orgasms & he knew I wanted the ultimate satisfaction. He then fucked me until we both couldn’t go anymore, in a sexual haze we drifted off.

We both were late to work this morning we’d both passed out after our exertions on the sofa & our phones battery had died. It was a major panic suddenly hear Marcus shaking me going fuck baby it 9:30. There wasn’t even time for a shower for either of us. We had to be out, & at work, but was it worth it for last night with my rockstar & the special treatment we both received? Fuck yes.

June