#and all the sex stuff is so fucked up and grotesque and sensational and it’s really interesting to read as somebody with a very complicated

[bts-hyperfixation]

Noona - kinktober - day 17

Jungkook Noona kink + overstimulation

The minute Jungkook walks into the room you go quiet. You and Joon had been sat on barstools at the kitchen island talking about the disappointing sex you’d had on your date the night before. If any of the other boys had walked into the room you probably would have continued the conversation. Probably would have dragged them into it with you. Not Jungkook though, never Jungkook. In your head, he was your innocent little bunny, despite only having a small age gap. It didn’t matter, part of you still saw him as the maknae from 2013.

Nothing annoyed Jungkook more.

What had started as a small crush, had slowly manifested into a slow obsession within Jungkook. It wasn’t so bad that he was stalking you or anything awful. He just made a point of sitting next to you at every opportunity, laying on you when drunk, holding your hand when walking somewhere. You just found it endearing, he was your little puppy. It was cute. You never really thought that much about it, so the thought had never crossed your mind. The band had certainly noticed. Which is why, as you quieted, Joon thought it’d be funnier to amp up the volume

“So he was really shit in bed huh?” he questioned, just loud enough to prick JK’s ears. You hit him playfully, warning him to shut up. “It sounds like you just need someone to get you well and truly off Y/N” he shoots a meaningful look at his friend prompting you to hit him again.

“Don’t talk like that with Kookie in the room” you scold as you pull the younger man close to you, covering his ears.

“Noona” he whines “I’m not a child” you giggle as his pout suggests otherwise. He removes your hands from his ears and places them in your lap before hugging you from behind making sure your arms were secure so you couldn’t handicap him again.

“Yeah Y/N he is all grown up now, look at him, the boy is a tank these days” Namjoon jokes. It's true, puberty has been kind to the boy, filling him out well. It’s just not something you’d paid attention to. You feel JK flex around you as if to make a point and you giggle.

“Namjoon-ah!” A shout comes from somewhere else in the dorm “Jimin stole my dumplings!” Jin’s voice echo’s through the halls

“Did not!” Jimin shouts in reply. Namjoon shakes his head but gets up to check on them anyway. He pats your leg and winks at Jungkook before leaving the kitchen. Jungkook takes the opportunity and moves into the newly vacated seat at the breakfast bar.

“You can talk to me about that sort of stuff too you know?” he places his hand meaningfully on your leg before his eyes lock with yours. Namjoon’s right, he really has grown into himself in the last few years. You blink a few times to clear your head and push his hand away.

“Oh Kookie you know that I can’t” you try to laugh it off but his serious expression doesn’t change.

“Why not?” the question drips with sincerity. Yeah, why not? It’s not something you ever thought to analyse, it has just always been that way to you. While you are thinking of the best way to answer his hand sneaks back onto your leg, this time venturing up your thigh. The fact that he is refusing to break eye contact has doubt creeping into your mind.

“I...I don’t know, you’re just my baby Kookie that’s all I’ve ever thought about it” your answer is disappointing but he takes comfort in the fact that this time you haven’t moved his hand away.

“Well, maybe it’s time you did think about it Noona” he stands and positions himself between your legs, his spare hand finding its way to your cheek forcing you to return his gaze. His stare is intense, and you lose your train of thought. You’d never noticed how deep his eyes were. Before you can really make sense of what’s happening his lips are on yours. Soft but desperate.

“Jungkook… we shouldn’t” the kiss has left you a little breathless, but you try to keep your head straight. This was your bunny, your innocent Kookie. So why all of a sudden was the idea of his lips all over you sounding like such a good idea?

“Please… let me prove myself. Let me show you I’m all grown up now” he nuzzles into your neck, pressing small kisses into the sensitive flesh. You half-heartedly push at him, trying to regain your composure. He stands his ground, moving to nibble at your earlobe.

“I could make you feel amazing Y/N, I could have you cumming for days. I’ll make your legs shake if you just let me” the low growl that leaves his mouth shocks you enough for you to pull away. You stare at him in disbelief. He had never spoken like that in front of you. The other boys had been telling you for months that he was the filthiest of all of them, but you wouldn’t believe them. Every time they went into grotesque detail about one of their latest conquests, you’d scold them and tell them to be more like Jungkook, take the 'kiss and not tell' approach. Of course, they’d laugh and try to convince you otherwise.

“Come on Y/N what have you got to lose? Let me do this for you… let me feel your release drip down my fingers, let me taste every inch of you, let me drive you crazy.” You could feel your panties sticking to your core at this point, the boy was relentless you’d give him that. You stand and walk away from him. His face falls. He is about to admit defeat before he sees where you're actually headed… his bedroom.

“Maybe it’s time I see you for the man you’ve become,” you say, slipping into his room. He is on you so fast you’ve barely had time to take in his room. It’s a lot cleaner than you thought it’d be. The odd comic or item of clothing is strewn on the floor, but the bed is made. Well, it was made until he had thrown you onto it moments ago. Jungkook was straddled over you, pining you as he kissed you with more passion than you thought possible. He must’ve thrown his shirt off as he walked through the door as you find your hands running along his naked skin. He shivers under your touch. He manages to find enough restraint to drag himself away from your lips long enough to help you take your shirt off. He takes the opportunity to lick a stripe from your belly button to your bra before removing that too. He returns to kissing you like you are his only source of oxygen, one hand on the back of your neck, the other playing with the sensitive skin of your right nipple.

“Can… I… move down?” He asks in between small pecks along your chin. You nod and he wastes no time undoing your shorts, pulling them and your panties down in one fluid movement. You close your legs, suddenly very aware of who is between your legs. He chuckles at your suddenly shy demeanour and pries your thighs apart, filling the new gap with his head. He tentatively licks up your slit. His eyes go wide as if has only just realised what he is doing. You are about to ask him he wants to stop when he starts lapping at your folds like a man starved.

The knot in your stomach builds much quicker than you anticipated as the eager boy sucks on your clit. He slips a finger into your dripping pussy and curls it with such precision that he hits your sweet spot instantly. Your moans only spur him on as they get needier. The minute he adds a second finger it's over. Your walls clench and he drags his fingers out, only to replace them with his tongue trying to catch every drop. You expect him to stop here, move onto his own pleasure or stop entirely, he proved his point. It was one of the best orgasms you’d had in a while. As soon as you come down, his movements resume. This time his fingers are rubbing at your clit furiously while his tongue fucks into you.

“Kookiiie” you whine feeling a little too sensitive. You’re not really sure what your whining for... for him to stop? Or for him to go faster? He takes the latter option moving his fingers to join his tongue leaving his thumb to take care of your bundle of nerves. You wriggle as the feeling teeters between pleasure and pain. The hand he’d been using to hold up your thigh moves to keep your stomach pressed down, forcing you to endure this sweet torture.

“Noona” his voice sends vibrations through your core, only adding to the sensation “can you come for me again?” the dark tone in his voice has you so close to unravelling, just waiting to dive off the cliff. “Come on Noona, show me what you’ve got left” this orgasm hits just as hard as the last. Your legs shake, body completely unprepared for the newest wave of arousal that JK once again licks at happily. His head comes back up so it's level with yours, but his hand keeps playing with your clit. Your whines are breathy and small from the overstimulation. He watches you, loving the way he makes your face contort just using his hand.

“Ah... Kook...” the sound of his name tumbling for your lips makes his already painfully hard dick twitch in his pants. You're desperate to reach out and help him but his spare hand pushes you away whenever you try. His ministrations on the small bundle of nerves had your orgasm building again sooner than you would’ve liked. Your body hadn’t recovered from the other two. This one would leave you just a quivering puddle. You start to protest as the knot tightens but he covers your mouth with his, letting you taste yourself on him. Preventing you from stopping the overstimulation. You lose yourself in his embrace and let yourself come undone again. After this one, he finally gives you some relief bringing his hand away and licking the remaining juices off. He unbuttons his pants and kicks them away. He moves so he is hovering over you, lined up at the right angle to enter you. His long hair falls in his eyes as he looks at you for approval to continue. You nod in approval and he pushes himself all the way in before giving you a couple of seconds to adjust.

His thrusts are as brutal as his fingers had been. You feel so full that you think he could split you at any minute. You don’t stop him though. The stretch felt amazing. It doesn’t last too long before he pulls out, finishing on your stomach. He finds a towel somewhere in the room and wipes his sperm away. You’re still shaking when he sits back on the bed. He chuckles and pulls you into his lap holding you close.

“Are you okay Noona?” he asks a little worried he might’ve gone too far. You nod sleepily and curl further into him.

“Never been better” he can’t help smiling with pride at your words.

Kinktober

Masterlist

Taglist

@adventuresinwonderlust @samros95 @thedarkwinterrose

[lifblogs]

Blind Movie Night

Fandom: Supernatural Pairing: Destiel Rating: T Word Count: 722 Summary: Dean and Castiel decide that picking a random movie neither of them have seen before for movie night could be fun. The movie turns out to be... interesting, and so does what happens afterwards. A/N: I don't know what the fuck this is. Also, the sexual stuff isn't too explicit, and I've read YA with more graphic stuff, so teen this is. READ ON AO3

“Hey, why don’t we watch this movie?” Dean suggested, eyeing the suggested movie on Prime Video with some trepidation, but quite a bit of curiosity. He’d read the story of Dorian Gray, so he wondered how the movie would be. Besides, this whole blind movie night thing could be fun.

“So you’ve never seen it before?” Castiel asked him, shuffling where he sat cross-legged on Dean’s bed. When Dean looked back he saw Cas peering at the screen, his eyes slightly squinted. Assessing.

“Nope!”

“We could give it a try.”

“Great, because I don’t have anymore fucks to give about other movies.”

Castiel rolled his eyes as Dean selected the movie. He climbed onto the bed with Cas, pulling him over to the pillows, wrapping his arms and legs around him.

He nipped at Cas’ ear and then nuzzled his neck, his strong, comforting smell of cinnamon and… something else, surrounding him, filling his nostrils. Castiel was solid and hard against him, but so right. Like he was meant to be there. And with the way his soft hair pressed against Dean’s face, he didn’t have any complaints.

His boyfriend leaned into him, and tilted his head up, stealing a quick kiss.

“You know, I’m bigger than you in… some ways. I could be the big spoon.”

Music came up, the dark screen lightening to show an attractive young man with dark hair covered in blood.

“Shh.”

Dean knew Castiel was smiling as sure as he knew that his own heart was beating, as sure as the sun shone even behind clouds.

Dean was intrigued until the man on the screen—Dorian, probably—picked up a bloodied garment (a scarf?) and inhaled the scent on it. The scent of whoever he’d killed, the scent of all that blood.

Okay, that was weird. Grotesque, maybe. Still, something warm worked its way through Dean, wrapping around his bones.

Really, the movie started out fairly tame after that, but soon it was nothing but sex and blood. By the end of it, after all the violent, erotic montages, Dean wasn’t sure what he’d just watched with Cas. Maybe showing him his favorite porn would’ve been better. There was this one with this guy and he couldn’t stop—

Right. Movie.

Weird.

“Uh…”

Cas, who now lay on his side, Dean curled up against him, just said, “Agreed.”

“What the hell was that part with the tea party and the drinking blood during sex?”

“I don’t know, Dean. You picked the movie.”

Dean pulled away, looking at Cas. “Hey, I didn’t know it was going to be like that.”

Cas just fiddled with the front of Dean’s flannel, expression thoughtful.

“There were some interesting things in it. Like perhaps—” Cas shuffled his hips towards Dean, and a bolt of fire ran through him all the way down to his toes, tingling and sizzling up his spine, before settling, molten, in his core. Castiel was incredibly hard. Like the press of velvet wrapped steal against his hips. He thumbed Dean’s bottom lip, and Dean was sure he’d forgotten everything but that sensation, that hungry look in the crystalline blue of Castiel’s eyes. “—that… what’s the word? Ah. Blow job scene.”

“Uh—uh, right now?” Dean stuttered out.

Castiel sat up and began to work at his belt. Dean practically collapsed off the bed onto his knees as the credits played.

Hey, bad movie, but maybe the night hadn’t been a total bust if he was getting to open his mouth for his angel.

“So overall, bad movie? Good movie?” Dean asked, not sure why he was rambling, even as fire came to life in his gut as Cas got off the bed, standing so tall above him.

“Just show me a cowboy movie next time.”

Dean tried for a sexy smirk, but the need seeming to make everything too much, and too tight, and achy. He pretended to tip a cowboy hat in acknowledgement, even as his hands itched to do… other things.

“You got it, partner.”

“Yee haw.”

Dean burst out laughing in shock that Cas had even said that, hands slapping his thighs. But he couldn’t laugh for long as Cas grabbed his chin and lifted his head up, and…

It was a long while before they realized they had forgotten to turn the TV off.

[ababy-girl]

Late practice

Sweet Pea x Reader

Your day wasn’t going really well when you got late for cheerleading practice.

Author’s note: Hi guys, after a long time reading, i decided to write something! This is the first time i’m publishing, and english is not my fist language, so please disconsider any grotesque mistake!

Warnings: smut

It was the third time on the month you got late to the cheerleading practice and Cheryl wasn't happy at all. She placed you on the bottom of the pyramid, knowing you’re the best on the top, and made you practice the choreography by yourself while she's and the others could rest and shower.

Just when you were done and ready to clean yourself, the girls started to leave the locker room.

“Oopsie, I think practice time is over.” Cheryl got her keys and locked the River Vixen’s door. “As the leader I have to protect our space against invasors or perverts trying to snatch our stuff. Too bad you got here late. Have a nice walk home! Oh, and your mascara is all over your face.”

With a roll of your eyes, you went to check if the boys locker room was open, even if it wasn’t football day. You walked with your bag, containing only your towel and your panties, as the rest of your stuff was kept in your locker. You knew it wasn’t worth it to argue with Cheryl to get your things before she locked the room, she would never let you anyways. When you opened the door, there were bags all over the place. It couldn’t be the football team, so it could only be wrestling.

But when you saw a leather jacket with a serpent on the back you remembered that the gang members were into basketball. Especially the tallest one, Sweet Pea. You have caught him looking at you, and he caught you looking at him. You couldn't deny the tension when Jughead introduced you to him, your eyes wandering down to his neck, at his tattoo, licking your lips with the thought of biting and nipping the spot.

You only talked to him a few times at lunch and at chemistry class, nothing too important or relevant. Never lasting too much, always succumbing to the undeniable heavy attraction in the air.

You decided to run and wash yourself while they were still playing. Quickly taking your sweaty uniform off and letting your hair down, you turned the farest shower on, wetting your hair and body.

Remembering that time Jughead went to the river vixen’s practice to see Betty and Sweet Pea was with him. Betty poking you all the time.

”Y/n, snakes also use words to communicate.” she's said while helping me escalate my way to the top of bodies.

“Oh, shut up and hold my ankle.” was all I could say before looking at his direction, his eyes straight on me with a grin splattered all across his face.

“Stop hissing at me!” She's said loudly so everyone could hear and Jughead laghed. He were also telling Sweet Pea to stop trying to talk with his mind powers, and Bettys line got just on cue.

You didn't noticed the boy entering the room, too busy with your head under the water, wondering around different scenarios and occasions. This being the one you never expected to happen.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?”

The cold running up your spine only made you move your hands quicker to cover yourself, panic in your eyes while the tall figure eyed you.

“Jesus Christ, Sweet Pea! Turn around!” you couldn't help the redness on your face, burning while his mouth kept opening to say something and closing, choosing his words.

“The boys are coming” He simply said, turning around and leaving the room.

You stood there, not knowing what do do at this point, your towell were in your bag, across the room. When you moved to get it he was already back, locking the door and looking down all the time.

“Can you please hand me my towel? It's right in front of you.” He moved slowly, grabbing the towel and walking towards you. You choose to ignore the embarrassment and accept your situation. Standing with your hands covering your body, looking straight at him.

The more close he got, the higher he looked, gazing your entire body, until he was staring you back. His expression serious, but the corner of his mouth slightly lifted.

“Here” he offered you the towel,

“Thank you, I owe you one” but instead of picking it up, you just waited, you knew it was coming. It had to be now.

“Well, are you-” you interrupted his words by sliding your arms around his neck, getting on the tip of your toes and kissing his lips.

You could finally feel the tension dissipating around your heads. He couldn't help the smirk before kissing you back, urgent and fast.

“I'm so glad you did this” He said while backing out to remove his sweaty shirt.

“I definitely couldn't wait for you any longer” His mouth kissing your jaw, going down to your neck and collarbone.

“I like girls with attitude.” running your hands all over his torso, you slightly brushed your hips onto his, earning a low groan from the boy.

You proceed to remove his shorts and boxers, all in one smooth swipe, breaking contact to look at him, standing proud. Sending the permission with a head nod, he picked you up, the water falling between your hot bodies.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/n.” Your boobs pressed against his chest while he pinned you to the cold wall. His tip already touching your entrance.

“Come on, serpent, make me hiss” with your words of encouragement, he entered your pussy.

“Such a tight northsider” you held into him, adjusting to his size, hissing from the burning feeling his thickness gave you. “Yeah, that's what i like to hears, Princess”

With that he started to move, slowly picking up his pace, hitting your spot every time a bit more, your fingernails scratching his shoulders as you felt his pulsing cock inside of you. The feeling of a knot forming in your stomach each thrust closer to a release, moans each pace louder, while your walls started to tighten around his length.

“Your pussy feels so good cummming arround my cock” his words sending you above it all, pulling him closer than you ever tough to be possible, moaning his name while he rode out your orgasm.

Putting you down, he spinned you to face the wall, pushing his member inside of you again, making you scream with the new contact on you sensitive sex.

“I'm not done with you yet” his voice low on your ear, his breath fanning your neck. The water kept falling down your bodies, making slapping noises when he smashed into you without mercy.

“Fuck, Sweet Pea. it feels so good” Your words only making him growl and push harder, giving him the motivation to keep going. One of his hands grabbing your neck, and the other holding tightly on your hips, making your head rest on his shoulder,

“Keep calling my name and you'll make me cum, Princess” he kept pushing, thrusting in and out of you, making you feel the familiar sensation all over again.

“Yes Sweet Pea, fuck me harder!” He couldn't believe you were saying that. This quiet northsiders begging to be fucked by a serpent. And so he did, slammed harder than he thought he could, with groans and whimpers, bringing both to a new release.

You turned around and kissed the tall serpent softly, rinsing yourself and getting your towel, watching him finish quickly his own shower. It was a great view.

“You can put that on” he pointed to his locker, opening and taking a white shirt you assumed to be his, by the size. It fitted you like a dress, leaving you to only a pair of panties and your sneakers. Sweet Pea got dressed with his spare clean clothes. “I think we're even”.

You both got out of the locker room, only to be greeted by the entire basketball team waiting outside. Noticing that you didn't know what to say or do, Sweet Pea just threw his arm around your shoulders and smiled, encouraging you to do the same. A boost of confidence ran through you while you did the same as he did.

“Bye boys, have a nice shower!” you said giving your back to them and feeling the serpent boy hand on your ass.

You have finally learned to communicate.

[wittygaypuns]

If you're still wanting to do the newmann domestic prompts, I'd love to see 14 or 32!!

I’m in the process of writing 32 for another person (technically two if you count an old prompt), so morning sex it is! Under a cut for being very NSFW.

“Harder,Hermann; fuck me like you mean it!” Newton gasped, clinging to thelanky man whose hips slammed against his ass, thrusts deep and rough.But it wasn't enough. Newton needed more,needed to feel so excruciatingly full that he could never forget it.He was made for this; he was made for Hermann, to feel him, to holdhim, to take him in. He could tell that Hermann knew it, too. Thesurly scientist had a delightful possessive streak a mile wide, andwhen he had Newton like this, he gave it his all.

Hewas so strong, one long-fingered hand holding up one of Newton's legsby the thigh as he pummelled him so hard that it ached. Hermann'slips were at Newt's pulsepoint, teeth occasionally grating againstit. He was an absolute animal, and Newt was lost in the every feelinghe was granted. Each stroke dragged across his prostate, causing himto whine out. His arms were around Hermann, unwilling to move tostroke himself off. The thought of not having Hermann's body againsthim at that moment was excruciating, more so than the idea of hisneglected cock.

Heheard a deep rumbling. Did Hermann make the noise, or was it the samenoise he had heard before they had ended up the way they were, withNewton's back pressed into one of the lab tables? It was the sort ofrumble that shook the room, but if it was Hermann, maybe it only feltthat way because of how close they were. Close enough that everymovement one made, the other felt. Close enough that Newton wonderedwith a shred of amusement if they might be able to drift without thepons. Hermann whispered something against his throat that he couldn'tmake out.

Therumbling continued, but Newton was too lost in the feeling to care.His mind was swimming, his nerves on fire. He could feel his endcoming, coiled up in his belly, ready to burst. The rumbling turnedinto a crashing, but Newton didn't care, he didn't fucking care, allhe cared about was Hermann and how deep inside he was, how heenveloped him with his body. He felt so small, so secure beneath him,the powerful thrusts of his hips keeping him anchored. Hermann wasrelentless, even as the roof was torn off of the laboratory.

“Focuson me, Newton.” Hermann whispered into his neck.

Fromabove, rain poured in, soaking their bodies. From above, Newton sawher. Otachi hovered, screeching, tearing the roof apart to get tothem. Newton watched as her grotesque face split in three,flower-like tongue unfurling, creeping closer and closer to them. Hecould not move, pinned beneath his lover, but no fear invaded hissenses. All he could feel was Hermann, all survival instincts haltedin favor of delicious sensation.

“Focuson me,Newton! You are mine.” Hermann growled, hips slamming against himso hard it knocked his breath from his lungs.

Otachiscreeched.

–

Newtonawoke, gasping out hard and pulling up to rest on his elbows. Hiships were being held gently, fingers stroking over his skin.

“Goodmorning.” Hermann's voice was soft and amused.

Newtonfumbled for his glasses, nearly shoving one of the temples into hiseye as he pushed them on. The sight he was greeted with made him moanout, shoving his hand on to his own face, rubbing his eyes beneathhis glasses to make sure he was awake. Hermann was between his legs,looking rather comfortable, a little smile on his swollen lips. Heslid a hand from Newt's hips to his saliva-slick cock, stroking himwith his fingertips.

“H-hi.Good morning. How are you?” Newt said, voice a little high pitched.

“I'mdoing wonderfully. You were squirming against me and moaning in yoursleep... was it a good dream?” Hermann said, tongue sliding alonghis length as he spoke.

“Ffff-fuck– it was. The end got a little weird but that's just my brain beingmy brain...” Newton let himself fall back to the bed, watchingHermann lavish attention on his cock. It was fairly rare that Hermannwas so eager in the morning, and Newt was thrilled. He decided hewould never, ever mention the stuff with Otachi from the dream.

“Tellme about it.” Hermann said.

“Well...I was getting pounded on a beach by a young Jason Momoa...” Newtsaid, unable to resist the urge to be a jackass, even when hishusband had his mouth on his cock. He whined when Hermann stoppedmoving.

“I'mkidding! It was you. It's always you Hermann! You were fucking me inthe old Shatterdome lab... on one of the tables. You were like,really giving it to me, it was so fucking hot. You were being so possessive, it was amazing.” Newt moaned softlyas he pictured it.

“Hardlya practical place to make love,” Hermann hummed, “And I don'tthink my hip would agree with that sort of... pounding.”

“Ohmy god, say pounding again. Please.” Newt moaned. Hermann chuckledsoftly, placing a kiss to his tip.

“Pounding.”Hermann said, practically purring the word. It sent a jolt straightto Newton's cock.

“Jesuschrist, why is everything you say so sexy?” Newton moaned, sittingback up on his elbows and looking to him. “Hey, so, how's your hipfeeling this morning?”

“It'sdoing fairly well...” Hermann raised a brow.

“Fairlywell as in you're good to go?” Newt asked, ever conscientious ofHermann's injury.

“...Absolutely.” Hermann confirmed.

“AH!Good, excellent. Here, let me up, I'm gonna run to the bathroom realquick... when I get back, I'm riding you, so be ready!” Newtexclaimed.

“Yessir!” Hermann laughed as he pulled away, watching happily as hishusband nearly tripped over his own feet in his scramble to thebathroom.

Thankgod they didn't work weekends anymore.

[dwell-on-it]

Those Below: Initium

DuBois' shoulder stung as Dak blotted the iodine-soaked rag against its skin. The splicer took in a sharp breath through its nose, letting the air out slowly through its mouth. From behind it, Dak made a grunting noise.

"What?" It asked, unable to keep the edge out of its voice.

"This stuff usually stings," Dak replied in his usual monotone, empty of tone or expression except for perhaps a clinical curiosity. His lack of emotion only rankled DuBois further.

"I've had worse," it grumbled, then, to really shove his face in it, added on: "...barely."

Dak's motions paused. He dabbed the lacerations on its shoulder a few more times, but DuBois could feel him soundlessly snort against the back of its neck. His emotions were enigmatic as ever, though it thought it detected a hint of annoyance. Good, it thought. It wanted him to feel as annoyed as it did.

He turned away from it, tucking the bottle back into the rusty first-aid kit. The cot squeaked as he stood to go place it back on the shelf. As he did, DuBois twisted its head back and lifted its shoulder to get a look at the wound.

It's his fault, it thought bitterly, though it knew in the end it was both of their fault.

The two had been walking in one of the tunnels. They had come to a pile of rubble, to which Dak muttered that it had not been there before. DuBois suggested he may have been mistaken, to which Dak had insisted he wasn't. When it had tried to say it was alright for him to admit a mistake, he had snapped at it, telling it he didn't forget the tunnel layouts.

That was the first time it had heard him raise his voice, even if it was slight. First time he'd sounded angry - or really, sounded like he felt any emotions at all.

The splicer found it oddly thrilling.

After instantly apologizing, Dak suggested turning back. DuBois, strangely invigorated, stated that it wanted to continue onwards to see the oddities he had promised lay ahead. He'd frowned, but acquiesced, instructing it on how to help him move the collapsed bits of tunnel.

Things went smoothly at first, until, on its on volition, it had grasped a broken beam and pulled. Dak shouted at it not to as soon as he noticed, but at that point his warning was too late. It pulled, the beam came loose too easy, and it lost its balance, toppling backwards.

As it fell, it crashed back into a section of broken concrete, which cut its shoulder. At the same time, more rubble came loose from above, and Dak had to throw his hands up above his head and duck to avoid chunks of ceiling.

They'd argued all the way back about whose fault it was, Dak becoming more heated than it had ever believed he could be as he lectured it on tunnel safety. For its own part, it told him that the tunnels were stupid and that he was crazy.

They'd spent the last few minutes in angry silence as Dak had retrieved the aid kit and administered to DuBois' wounds, until he'd commented on its lack of reaction, once again slipping into his detached ways.

But again, Dubois felt somehow revived by the exchange, not really angry.

As it watched him, it realized why. The way he moved when he knew it was watching was controlled, almost robotic. When he spoke, he was mechanical. Even in the small tender moments they shared - when he held it as they slept, when they kissed - he was stiff and awkward.

Now, though, he moved angrily, shoving the box back onto the shelf, making himself appear busy so he wouldn't have to talk.

And DuBois realized - he was human.

Well, of course he was a human, but before, he seemed… unreal. A sewer dwelling thing, though not grotesque. No, he'd seemed unreal in that he was too perfectly aligned to the life he lead, too dryly detached from human emotion. He was like the most intense of ascetic hermits. Enlightened, almost.

In this moment, as he stomped and hunched his shoulders, and muttered wordlessly, he was a man. As real and emotional and imperfect as any other.

After a few minutes of rifling around, he looked back at DuBois, who was touching its shoulder.

"Don't do that," he said, stern, less heated. Yet not monotone. There was an element of concern to his voice.

It dropped its hand into its lap. As it did, he returned to sitting next to it on the cot. He sat stiffly, hands on his knees.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"...Yeah. Me too," it replied.

Silence for a moment before he said: "I thought I was gonna lose you."

The splicer looked up in surprise. His voice had cracked as he spoke.

The first time it had met him, he seemed impossible. Christ-like. A pure hermit-monk helping a twisted, broken sex worker. It had fallen for him almost instantly, in the way one falls for religion. It had wanted him from the start in the same way it wanted salvation, but he would not let it take communion by him.

Today, it saw a new side of him. The human, underneath the divinity. It made it want him more - as a man, not a savior.

It wondered what other human aspects lay under the surface that was Dak.

"...kiss me?" It asked in a small voice.

He turned to look at it, moving one hand from a knee to the cot. His face showed some confusion, but only a little.

He lifted his other hand, placing the palm against its cheek. His hands were dry and cracked, and felt like sandpaper. He held there for a second, then the hand slipped towards the back of its head, getting caught in those loose curls, and pulled its face gently towards his.

Their mouths met, and DuBois wanted to sink into him. He wasn't a great kisser, but he was warm and solid, and his shoulders were shaking a little. He really had been scared.

Then, for the first time, he took the initiative to wrap his free hand around its waist and drag it onto his lap. At that, it did sink into him, arms draping over his shoulders, mouth pressed to his.

When their kisses found a natural pause, it leaned back, looking him in the eyes.

"I want you to fuck me," it said. It knew the phrasing was vulgar, but it was honest and unpretentious, the way he had been while lecturing it. It saw no reason to play games.

Dak paused, considering. A few months ago, it had offered to suck his dick, and he had said no. He'd never had his dick sucked, but the way it had asked felt ugly, in a way. It had looked at him not like it really wanted to do it, but because it felt obligated.

It had not brought up sex since then. Until now, that was.

"Why…?" Why now, he was asking, though he couldn't quite articulate the whole question. As was often the case, he could not always piece thoughts into words.

"Because…" it waited a beat as it thought. "Because you're here and you're human and I want you to."

Dak didn't fully understand, so he looked in its eyes. Months ago, its eyes had been desperate. Now, there was something else to them. Something he could only describe as heat.

It wanted him to. And really, he wanted to.

"I've never…" he said, again letting the statement hang.

"That's okay," it assured him. Slowly, a little awkwardly, he kissed it again. It kissed back, holding for a while, hands moving to his chest.

The removal of clothing was also awkward, and DuBois took the lead on the actions. It was confident and steady-handed even if the space they occupied was small.

He had caught glimpses of it, sometimes, as it undressed, though he usually turned away, feeling like his gaze was uninvited and rude. He had only see its fully nude torso once, when he'd cut away the weeping piercing the first time they'd met.

Now, as then, he was intrigued by the complex patterns tattooed on its body. Even more intriguing were its genitalia, a bright blue member he'd seen in passing but never up close. It was odd, alien, unexpected.

He did not get much time to study the forms and lines of its body before it was stroking him, gentling pushing him back down onto the cot. The rattling purring sound it made sometimes when it slept rose from its chest as he grew in its hand.

There was some murmured conversation, some is this okays and affirmative replies, and then it was straddling him. It aligned itself above him - there was some confusion on his part - sex-ed was a known factor to him from a sixth-grade health class, and from occasionally catching people in subway restroom stalls - but DuBois didn't have the anatomy of diagrams - as it lowered, it found it had two sets of genitalia.

He wanted to ask, but didn't. Couldn't, as the sensation of it, warm and wet, enveloped him. It lifted his hands to rest on its hips, but otherwise sat back, almost out of reach, hands propped against his wrists.

They rocked back and forth, slowly, breath catching. There was a pressure mounting, one he'd experienced on his own, but never to the sound of its breathy mews or to the soft feeling of being inside it. Then there was a release, the event over in a way that felt far too soon and left him feeling angry with himself.

As it collapsed, nestling into his chest, DuBois murmured that things would be alright. That they could try again later.

Both fell asleep to the rosy feeling that that was a promise, and one that would be kept soon.

[fidelishaereticus]

YES OCs kinks please

AAAAH THANK I LOVE YOU ANSWERING THIS QUESTION IS MY KINK.

Ok that said I have over 20 OCs and i can’t possibly do them all today so if you want a specific character, feel free to ask. for the moment i’m just going to put out a few from the cardhouse that i know of (pls understand that this is not necessarily a comprehensive or definitive list of these characters’ kinks, it’s the sort of thing i def want to leave open to fan interpretation :P)

MISCHANCE is of course a neurotic perfectionist and control-freak with a massive chaos/adventure/throwing-caution-to-the-winds kink, plus a sexts-from-the-void kink :P. Most things Mischance fears are also huge turn-ons once/if they overcome that fear. And disturbing their Perfect Order is either going to piss them off royally or, depending on the circumstance, elicit a reaction to the effect of ‘You. You fucked up my sock drawer. [menace, dramatic pause. cough.] would you mind…fucking me up…while you’re at it’

IRIS has a pain kink and also an explosives/violence kink obviously. Has a thing for prisms, and (like me lol) gets off on colors (is this not the sexiest fucking orange you have ever seen? Daaaaamn. i’ll be in my bunk). She likes pristine, clean spaces: an untouched snowfall, a clean wall. She likes being the first to make a mess of them (so satisfying). Knocking-things-off-the-counter kink. OH YEAH I ALMOST FORGOT she also really enjoys watching anemone emotionally destroy other others (right up to the point where it starts reminding her of some of her own irl baggage and suddenly it’s not fun anymore).

ANEMONE is a dom with a huge control kink (haha WHO KNEW?) but also likes competition and enjoys being overthrown and wrecked so?? Lying kink (knowing she’s gotten away with a clever lie is a turn on). She low key gets off on being Clean and Pretty and Perfect but high-key gets off on getting Very Very Messy on the rare occasion. Flower kink, obvs. Poison kink. She often finds herself attracted to girls who rock a more GNC aesthetic or embrace not being conventionally ‘pretty’ (despite being a normative perfectionist about her own looks). Certain smells or textures are huge turn-ons. quite possibly into bondage. She really enjoys watching iris wreck shit.

SYRINE has a thing for certain tone-qualities or musical arrangements. She likes very specific, isolated sensations, or sense combinations—for example a particular taste followed by a particular image and a particular sound. Extremely picky about what she likes / does not like when it comes to sex and (partly for this reason) doesn’t go in for it much, if ever. Must be a very quiet controlled environment. Might be into that ridiculously elaborate bondage involving ropes that must take five million years to set up. Getting messy isn’t really a thing she’s into unless we’re talking about diving into the cold embrace of the sea.

ALICE’s kink is the color chartreuse but actually. She loves sharp things and glinting things and feathers and scales. Biting & being bitten, nails and teeth, fingers-in-mouth, licking things to claim them as your own. Dark magic kink. She also has a lot of weird gross kinks like ‘bug-eating kink’ (yes alice eats insects because of course she does. whatever made you think she didn’t). But also: anything sparkly or shiny. Satin and bling. She gets off on having any kind of power very quickly—power tripping is a HUGE thing for her. Like Iris, she has a violence kink and can enjoy pain, so if they ever hooked up it would be like Klingons up in here.

LV’s kink is dark magic, primordial chaos, death, necromancy, volcanoes, the grotesque, warped & disorienting surroundings, dismemberment, all that good stuff. Blurring the line between horror/repulsion and attraction. She is the undead incarnation of Sexts From The Void so, yeah. Omniscience kink. She also finds meticulous, delicate precision & patience in others very attractive. Might have a ‘shiny things’ kink in addition to every thing else. LV is v old and has probably had every possible kink at some point ok (except for daddy kink, i can’t write that, someone else will have to if they want that fiction).

….So yeah the cardhouse is kind of interesting, because everyone’s kinks are very conceptually/aesthetically-driven; that’s the kind of person that the cardhouse attracts. also everyone’s shared kinks include Magic, Fiction, DO IT FOR THE AESTHETIC, Art, Beauty, Transcendence. As a creator i don’t generally think or care so much about exactly what physical sex-acts characters most prefer unless it’s thematically relevant or i’m actually trying to write a sex scene (which i usually fail at) so….idk i guess most of that is still up in the air??

[racingtoaredlight]

Tone - Amps vs. Modeling...a guitarist’s perspective

Guitar.com: Right. With the actual tones that I’m hearing on this recording… I mean, you’ve got stuff that sounds like almost sitar-like and all kinds of things…

Henderson: That is a sitar.

Guitar.com: Oh, okay.

Henderson: That’s one of those Jerry Jones electric sitars.

Guitar.com: Oh, okay. Cool. And how are you recording these day?. Are you using amps and mics? Are you recording through plugins? What are you doing?

Henderson: Amps and mics, man. I’m old school. Marshalls turned way, way up.

Guitar.com: Oh, really?

Henderson: A 4×12 cabinet with Greenbacks and ’71 Marshall. I wouldn’t do it any other way, dude. I hate all that bullshit — that guitar modeling crap, man. That’s so much bullshit.

Guitar.com: Okay. So, you just crank way up in the studio to get that tone.

Henderson: Yeah, man. Like a real musician.

Guitar.com: Yeah.

Henderson: I’m sorry I’m so down on that stuff. I just hear it, and It’s just, you know… I’ve had that stuff over at my house, and I just can’t do a single thing with it — all that Axe-FX and all that stuff over at my house. It just sounds like a joke compared to a real cabinet with a mic in front of it.

But, I understand that some people can’t turn up loud at their house, and I get that. And, you know, for the purpose of laying down some tracks for commercial purposes, I totally can understand how you could fool people into thinking that it is a real amplifier, but there’s no way in hell I can get my tone out of a rig like that. I gotta have the real deal.

*h/t...witasick420 i still can’t believe i can’t spell his screen name after all these years

Link to original article.

Thoughts after the jump...

***

There have been few moments in my life where I’ve felt completely overwhelmed by technology to the point where I questioned whether I legitimately had a fighting chance.  That feeling of helplessness that you’ve lived your life to this point, and your worldview was in danger of being wiped clean.

Towards the end of last year, I started a new project with a guitarist I had just met.  We’d played music a little bit together, but it wasn’t until our first rehearsal with a drummer where I experienced this full force.  In terms of skill, we’re very complimentary...he prefers playing rhythm, and while he has good chops, I have extra gears that are suited for lead playing.

I was playing my uncle’s amp...a Dr. Z Maz 18 (that I’m currently in possession of now) that is unanimously considered as one of the finest point-to-point wired workhorses on the market, through a speaker cabinet with 2 10″ very high-quality speakers.  He brought his Line 6 Helix, the guts of which are the 2nd image at the top, and ran it through the PA.

It was such an unmitigated beatdown, I legitimately had thoughts that all my time spent practicing was a waste, because with the Helix modeler unit, it gave you such a tonal world at your fingertips, it legitimately made up for a massive amount of real estate that skill usually had to occupy.

And I’m not saying that as some kind of slam, rather appreciating just how impressive and comprehensively brilliant a tool like the Helix is.  Immediately...and I am about to criticize it in a second...I knew that things like tube amps and the world of electric guitar that I love would be irreversibly marching towards obsolescence.

That’s how powerful it was experiencing one of these new modeling platforms...that was tuned up by someone who knew what they were doing and spent the hours programming it...after about a two and a half hour rehearsal.

***

BUT...

***

Then I played it.

***

As impressive as the unit was on the sidelines, it was missing a single critical element.  Something that you cannot objectify or put in marketing material or...honestly...explain, without having someone experience it for themselves first hand.

***

The reason that, after this and subsequent rehearsals, I remain fully committed to tube amps is because I’m a romantic.  After that first rehearsal, I didn’t need any more evidence...it slapped me in the face for 150 minutes.

AS AN AUDIENCE MEMBER...

I could not ignore how powerful a modeler is for making the end product.  When I had no physical connection to the thing...even with a great rig behind me...the evidence was impossible to ignore.  These things crank out studio quality sound...the Henderson interview was from 2015, these things today are quantum leaps beyond what was around back then...right there no matter if you’re gigging or in the studio or at home.  It’s easier to get a consistent, high-quality sound live.  It fits in a fucking backpack!

But I don’t give a shit about the audience.  I don’t play music for other people...that’s what professionals do...I play for myself and my enjoyment, first and foremost.  And, all this theory nonsense and OCD over equipment...it’s all a quixotic quest to find the combinations of notes and tones that get my entire body covered in goosebumps.

And modelers...as of right now...do not do that.

***

If there’s one aspect of music that I hope you all understand, that I’ve been beating you over the heads with for years, it’s that music is a physical being.

If you ignore this aspect of music, you are missing out on the aspect of what has made it such a strangely important part of global culture.  Those sensations you get from listening to music...it’s not the subject matter or the theory or subjective qualities of tone...it’s the acoustic signal created by a vibration being amplified and projected to your eardrums, where that signal is sent to your brain for processing.

And, no matter what emotional response you have to the word “artificial,” a modeler’s tone is legitimately artificial.  It’s digitally recreated.  While I can say that this doesn’t mean it’s worse, if I have a guitar in my hand it’s an entirely different story.

***

If music is in the hands of patrons and the audience...i.e. commercial purposes...who really cares about organic stuff?  Lets not pretend that music has any sanctity left over in Western culture that hasn’t been exploited and grotesquely copied.

But musicians playing music that they actually love and enjoy is a different story.  The stuff musicians actually have a passion for.  The shit they work to create themselves, for free, because that’s how nature wired them...

Here’s a great article about what went down in a semi-famous test where a bunch of Stradivarius and Gesu violins were tested against great modern examples.  

This study certainly doesn't tell us what happens between a player and a fiddle over a long-term relationship, and this is an important factor. Even over the course of this short testing situation, people's opinions changed and evolved. It's sort of like dating; that chemistry on the first date could be the prelude to a blissful, 40-year union. Or, on the third or fourth date, you could begin discovering that your new beau has unbearably bad breath, hates classical music and just wants to watch re-runs of the "Dukes of Hazzard" and listen to Asia.

***

The Helix is impressive for a number of non-digital reasons...things like touch sensitivity and replicating the natural dynamic response of tubes...but that missing ingredient I’ve been alluding to this entire time is a “feel.”

There’s a feel to tube amps that’s organic.  It might be an electrically produced signal, but the signal is organic and intact throughout the signal chain.  It’s never recreated by a digital processing board or run through a filter more advanced than a small bit of oil in a paper cap.  While it’s an electric signal, the guitar through a tube amp is very similar to a human’s voice...but that organic nature is diminished when the signal is digitally reprocessed.

The easiest way I can explain this is the difference between having sex with a condom (modeler) and without a condom (amp).

*just kidding kids, practice safe sex