#cw impaling mention

[starry-bi-sky]

more cfau miscellaneous things because Childhood Friends Danny and Jason have my head and heart always and I need to finish rewriting chapter two dammit (and redo the half-finished chapter 4 because its just Not The Vibes). i'm almost through I need to get through the graveyard scene. (i just stubbornly refuse to have it be shorter than the original chapter and thats the little death. that is the mind killer.)

Danny and jason’s ghost forms both smell faintly like burnt flesh and cigarettes. However, Jason has a more smokey smell while Danny’s smells almost,,, electrical? In a sense? Like he just straight up smells like burnt flesh and sulphur while Jason smells like someone put him in a smoker first.

It’s very much an unpleasant smell but Danny finds an odd comfort in it just as much as he finds a comfort in the smell of nicotine.

(Jason post-revival smells burnt flesh once and is immediately offput by the fact that it brings him an instinctive comfort. He doesn’t realize its because it reminds him of Danny, and is uncomfortable by it.)

-

In an au of an au, Danny’s altercation with Rath ends with Rath regaining enough of his sanity to snap out of the grieving state and ends with him breaking down. Instead of being souped and imprisoned, Rath, who is permanently 14, decides to Move On into the unknown. He’s exhausted, heartbroken, and tired.

(Is this influenced heavily by the ParaNorman scene where he talks to Agatha and helps her move on? Yes. But it doesn’t fit with the Original Storyline so im shoving it into an Au of an Au.)

Rath tells Danny that Jason lied to them (which he genuinely believes), and that he’s tired of waiting/looking for him/grieving. Jason is gone. He isn’t coming back, he abandoned them. And he wants his mom and dad, and his sister, and his friends. And he’s ready to join them.

He leads Danny out to Gotham, which other than Amity Park might’ve been the only city left untouched due to Rath’s own mental block on the place. They go out to the park he and Jason used to frequent or up to one of crime alley’s rooftops, and there Rath lies down and goes to sleep. Only to never wake up again, materializing into nothing as his soul moves on.

Before Rath leaves, he forces Danny to promise him that he’ll only wait for Jason for ten years. After that if he doesn’t find him, or if Jason doesn’t show, then Danny has to move on. Whether that be like how Rath does, or if its inly mentally/emotionally, doesn’t matter. He has to move on. Don’t wait for him. Don’t waste his time any more.

(“Oh, and if you find him, kick his ass for me.”)

Danny reluctantly agrees, and Rath lies down. Danny sings to him as he falls asleep.

(Angsty points if the vigilantes including Red Hood caught wind of their presence and were silently watching from the shadows. Rath might know they’re there, but Danny’s too focused on Rath to notice.)

(If only so that Red Hood realizes that this is what happened to Danny, and that Danny is gone before he can make things right. The tragedy, folks. The angst. The initial realization that Danny was Rath, and then also that Danny was dead and has been dead for years, and that before he moved on, he moved on believing that Jason abandoned him.)

(like i said it doesn't fit in the original timeline/storyline hence why its an au of an au and isn't nearly a fleshed out, but i was largely just focusing on the tragedy of Rath moving on and Jason being alive to see it and realize just who Rath is.)

-

Just like how the Lazarus pits shot Jason's twiggy 4'6-5'4 (depending on what you find) feet tall and 86lb ass up like a tree an essentially fixed his malnutrition, the portal did the same thing for Danny.

(granted i forgot about malnutrition and danny's likely stunted growth at first -- his family lived in crime alley and despite both his parents working, I don't think they had enough food all the time. He probably wasn't as badly malnourished as Jason was, but he wasn't healthy either.)

Granted his ghost in its "natural" state (14) is short, and his growth spurts were slow at first, it did result in him reaching his dad's height. There were points where it just happened overnight, like a baby. He went to bed one night 5’6 and woke up the next day 5’10.

Jazz is shorter than him. Although I have't decided if she's even liminal at all (and if she is, it didn't cure everything because she would have also suffered childhood malnutrition, and since in au canon their parents didn't get their hands on physical ectoplasm until after they got to Amity Park. So the exposure is less.)

-

Danny's voice absolutely sounds like canon Dan's. It kinda just dropped one day when he was 16-17 and never went back up. Sam and Tucker sometimes ask him to just talk about anything because they find his voice soothing.

I'm not sure yet how Danny would feel about it at first considering Rath, but I imagine that Rath, when he did speak, would have had a quieter and scratchier/weaker voice considering he's spent the last decade shrieking and crying.

(and i suppose technically that shouldn't have any effect on his throat considering he's a ghost and idk if that would actually affect him, but i like the idea so im keeping it)

In the beginning you could hear him from a mile away by the sound of his loud, echoing wails, but ten years later you can only really hear him by the soft, shuddering sobs he makes. Like he's gasping for air that isn't there. The future is full of very quiet survivors.

And it's much easier to speak when you pitch your voice upwards (especially when whispering/speaking quietly) so he might've spoken in a higher, airy pitch in order to be heard. So Danny might actually find a comfort in having a lower voice.

[snow-hart]

Ruthlessness

This final drabble is very violent, and is the only one told in a third person point of view, because Michael himself is so removed from himself that having it in his P.O.V doesn't fit.

As with the previous, the whole thing will be under a read more.

Reader discretion is advised.

I've gotta make you bleed; I need to see you drown

But before you go I need to make you learn how...

The only thing that Michael could feel was pain...pain, anger, sorrow....grief, and rage that burned so bright that it became a black hole in his heart. The skies darkened as the black hole in his chest expanded, the wind whipping like blades around them as the first snowflakes fell in time with the angel's hate filled tears. A small flurry became a raging blizzard the darkness he was feeling consumed even the light of the sun, causing an eclipse. These many things combined made it as black as the darkest of nights outside.

Hatred and grief can make a monster out of any man, no matter how good...no matter how kind they may be. So it was with Michael as he covered his wings in a layer of sharp black ice and took to the skies to wreak vengeance upon those who had killed his child, who had killed all of these innocent kids...so great was his fury and sorrow that his eyes had frozen and his tears has cut into his cheeks like knives. He rose to the eye of the storm, eyes a pale, deathly glowing blue before he launched a barrage of icy feathers at the exterminating angels who had been fool enough to remain at the scene

An Elk's scream echoed across the blackened sky as the temperature dropped rapidly, making the air on the ground that much harder to breathe. Higher and higher he rose until his wings encircled the eclipsed sun on the updraft.

Ruthlessness is MERCY upon ourselves...

He angled his flight down and dived, cutting through the masses of angels that had stayed, the blood from what remained of their bodies freezing before it ever hit the ground. Despite flying blind, he was still a dangerous foe, and he felt like a stranger in his own mind. He couldn't seem to pull himself back into reality...and the longer he stayed in this mental state, the more would die.

Gabriel was quick to act, his only hope was that Michael did not die from what he needed to do. He grabbed a spear and, from behind, hucked it between the man's wings and out the other side. He dropped like a stone, the blizzard gone in an instant. The messenger angel watched worriedly as his brother was whisked away. Only one thing was clear...

Michael would never be the same again.

[regallibellbright]

All right, the initial draft was too long to be postable, but here we go

TWEWY/Utena crossover, taking place circa Cowbell of Happiness on Utena’s end and sometime post-OG on TWEWY's, not necessarily Neo-compliant. (Don’t question the timeline too hard, it won’t hold up at all even with Ohtori Time Weirdness, but half the reason this exists is to put Neku Sakuraba in the Bad Therapy Elevator.)

The thing about Ohtori is that it simultaneously is and is not part of the existing UG structure. It functions, in many ways, like a UG under the control of an extremely powerful Composer who's exerting a LOT of control over the environment. (Which extends beyond the school proper into the nearby town and forest. The city from Episode 33 may have been another illusion or may have been Akio getting permission to enter someone else's territory, but the highway he drives down during the radio segments is still part of Ohtori's sphere of influence.) There is no RG in Ohtori, but somehow time has not frozen the way it would in an Inversion. It seems, on the surface, like a pleasant place. Imagination is refined and Soul is (eventually) recycled through the Duel structure. It has a relatively low erasure rate, an oddly high intake rate, and functionally ZERO people who leave except through erasure (the last graduate was a decade ago,) but Imagination rates are stable and sustainable, somehow. No one's entirely sure how exactly its Game operates - the line between "Player" and "Reaper" doesn't meaningfully exist, the closest thing to Officers are the duelists of the Student Council who are allegedly Players, the time frame per cycle is inconsistent, it's not actually clear if everyone taking part in the Game is actually dead or if everyone in the Ohtori UG is actually part of the Game and either way they're all interacting with each other, and the results are, again, completely inexplicable. The records are terrible, too. But at the same time, no one wants to know what's going on there.

Because then there's the part where its governors are arguably a step beyond 'deity' and more like loose personifications of narrative concepts. No one's sure exactly how old they are, or if they were human in origin once or have always been what they are. No one's sure which one is actually the Composer - siblings Anthy Himemiya and Akio Ohtori have shared, stolen, counter-stolen, freely ceded, “freely ceded,” and combined abilities so thoroughly over the eons that even THEY probably no longer remember how things started, or know who holds the power now. If you separated them, odds are they’d both lose their powers entirely. Policy is to treat them both as Composers of the same UG. Akio is definitely the one who exerts stronger control over the Duelists, but Anthy's the one responsible for Ohtori being a surreal timeless bubble of symbolism, dreamlike architecture, and bizarre animal-related shenanigans.

(The rest of the Higher Planes probably know, or at least suspect, how dysfunctional THAT relationship is. The abuse, the incest, the ways Anthy gets mistreated in her role as the Rose Bride, the million swords of hate. Using Duelists as sacrificial pawns as part of their whole game isn't strictly speaking a problem. The fact that any given Proxy only really belongs to one of them, but they work together with each other to manipulate those Proxies is much more questionable. But anyone who's interested in helping realized a long time ago that doing that would require either of them to accept help. That's not happening any time soon. It's easier and less frustrating to just keep your distance.)

No one likes Ohtori. It's allowed to keep existing mainly because the alternative means dealing with Akio and Anthy way more often, firsthand, and also because no one is entirely sure they COULD get rid of it. Doing that would probably mean somehow managing to erase one or both of the Composers, and again, they're more concepts than anything else. The Prince, however much he's fallen (or claims to have fallen,) and the Witch and Rose Bride and Eternal Bearer of the Swords of Hate and whatever much she might have been, once. But they all have a vested interest in making sure that it isn't, like. Expanding or anything. So occasionally you have to send someone in there to check on it, because the outer barriers are so strong you CAN'T keep tabs on it without going in there. For an Angel, it's safe to go in and come out.

Somewhere in the realm of twentyish years ago, Touga and Nanami Kiryuu got sucked into the hell nexus that is Ohtori Academy. Some time after that, their cousin Yoshiya Kiryuu became Composer of Shibuya. (Their names are written with the same kanji but officially localized differently, at 2-1 Joshua was outnumbered so I'm using the Utena romanization here.)

They're probably still in there! Time isn't real inside Ohtori! They won't remember how long they've been there or how old he's supposed to be in relationship to them! They may not actually remember he exists when he's not there in front of him!

... No, this wasn't something you get to refuse, Kiryuu. Someone has to check in on the hell school every few years. Go visit your cousins. Consider how lucky you are that you can still see some of your nominally-human family.

At no point in this did anyone ask Joshua what his cousins are like, or if he actually liked them. He's been on Ohtori Duty every 3-5 years since he took over and has been hoping for their erasure ever since.

And so eventually, some time after the events of the original game, Joshua shows up at Hachiko with a PARTICULARLY insincere smile asking if anyone wants to come meet his cousins who are studying at a school they've never heard of, because it's actually inside its own exclusive little nightmare dimension!

The Gang, understandably, Has Some Questions about this. Starting with "Why would ANYONE agree to that?"

On the other hand, they're also kind of morbidly curious how terrible something has to be for JOSHUA to call it a nightmare dimension. And the fact that he apparently has cousins who he's in something resembling contact with.

... Once Neku and Rhyme were curious enough to say yes, Shiki and Beat pretty much had to agree too, just to make sure the others get back safely (or everyone gets stuck in the hell dimension together.)

And so, armed with no information whatsoever and the Angelic equivalent of "Property Of Joshua Kiryuu, Do Not Put In Duels" tags, it's time for a semi-metaphorical interdimensional bus ride to Ohtori!

This will be a terrible time for all involved.

[ashlynlovestlou]

winner winner (ellabs x reader)

꩜ synopsis: abby and ellie challenge each other to see who can make you squirt first.

꩜ cw: SQUIRTING!!!! , overstim , threesome , smut with absolutely no plot , dirty talk , pet names , spanking , poosay slapping , dom! abby , dom! ellie , sub! reader , tummy buldge , mention of masturbation , this is kinda short i'm sorry

masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

the three of you had been at this for fifteen minutes already. it happened when you mentioned to them that you'd never squirted before. of course, being the two numbskulls that they are, they took that as a challenge.

so now you were laying on your back in bed, abby between your legs and ellie at your side.

ellie was holding your hand, rubbing your knuckles with one hand and rubbing your clit with her other. abby, of course, was wearing her biggest, longest strap she has, and she's pounding into you while she cradled your head.

pathetic little whimpers we're escaping your lips with each thrust, but all you could do was take it.

"shhh... sh sh sh." ellie coos, "come on baby, you can take more."

abby is too focused to speak, hitting that spot inside of you repeatedly. your insides were probably bruised now, and she could feel you clenching around her.

"she's gettin' tight, ellie." abby says. ellie snickers, pressing down and pinching your clit. you moan and your back arches off the bed.

you flail your legs, trying to close them in retaliation, but abby keeps them open. "uh-uh. keep 'em wide and spread for me, sweet girl. you close, huh? yeah, i can feel ya." her words send you over the edge and you're coming for the third time tonight. your entire body convulses with pleasure, and both girls marvel at the way your face contorts.

"no way in hell i'm letting you win." ellie mutters to abby under her breath, shooing her away from you once your high is over.

she gives your cunt a few firm slaps before impaling you with her silicon dick. she bottoms out in one go, the tip of her dick kissing your cervix sloppily. hers is much longer than abby's, making a little bump in your lower tummy.

"s' too big." you whine when ellie's hand meets your stomach, pressing down on the little bump she made.

"you've got it, sweet girl. come on, baby, come on." she whispers in your ear.

abby chuckles as she watches this all unfold. she let ellie go first to get you nice and stimulated, in hopes that she could be the one to make you squirt. but the way that ellie was slamming roughly into you made her believe that that wasn't going to happen.

"hurts." you groan, eyes closing.

"keep your eyes open. watch ellie fuck you." abby commands, so naturally you listen. you open your eyes to watch her slip in and out of you. your thighs were covered in slick, and your next orgasm was coming.

ellie's pants and heavy breaths only turned you on more, and it was getting harder to sit still. ellie had a shit-eating grin on her face, knowing what was about to happen.

"scream my name, honey. come on, let me hear you." she coaxes, and you gush at her words, doing exactly that. you yelled her name, in contrast to the little whimpers and quiet whines you were eliciting earlier. you'd never felt more euphoric in your entire life. sure, you'd come on your own hands, their hands, their straps, and even their mouths several times. but nothing compared to the tingles you felt on every inch of your body.

the sheets were wet.

ellie entire lower half was wet.

you were wet, laying in a puddle of your own substances.

ellie laughs and cheers, "you fucking squirted!"

abby groans in defeat after seeing the utter mess you made. her eyebrows were squeezed together, her bulky hand in a tense fist. she shook her head silently, as if contemplating punching ellie in the jaw.

but ellie was too busy celebrating to notice, "fuck yeah! i did it!" she says, pecking you in every little crease and corner her lips can reach.

you were too fucked-out to comment on her celebrating, or abby's defeat, for that matter.

"how d'you feel, sweet pea?" abby is first to check on you after ellie disappears to go fetch some towels.

"fucking amazing." you mumble, nestling comfortably into the crease between her shoulder and neck, "never knew it could feel like that."

she chuckles, kissing your hairline, "there's plenty more where that came from. next time, i'll be the one to make you squeal like that, hm?"

you laugh quietly at her words, nodding.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Alien Escape

Male Alien Yandere × Gender Neutral Reader

(CW: Noncon, oviposition, breeding, overstimulation, crying, fear, minor character death, weird alien dick, minor mentions of medical experimentation (NOT on reader), alien, implied abduction, general yandere behavior)

Word Count: 680

(Just something I typed up on my phone because it was in my head and demanded to be written, a nice little mini-fic. Hope you enjoy!)

Tears streamed down your face, and your legs burned and ached from running so fast through the labyrinthine halls. Your frenzied footsteps on the cold tile floor were completely drowned out by the incessant blaring of the alarms.

When you slipped and broke the containment field, you had doomed everyone.

At last, you had made it to the exit. But it was covered by a heavier metal door with no handle.

Of course. The entire site was on lockdown now.

Maybe you could double back and hide in one of the abandoned rooms. If they weren't sealed off by now, too.

You ran off down a side corridor, but it was a dead end. Maybe it wouldn't come this way since it wasn't the way out.

Suddenly, the alarms and all the lights turned off. Probably sucked dry due to the escaped alien's ability to absorb energy.

You huddled into a corner in the darkness, nothing visible.

Then you saw light. Coming from far down the hall. The pale sickly green glow of the alien slowly approaching.

When he entered your field of view fully you gasped. He had a struggling Colonel Hughs in his arms, a hand over his mouth.

The alien slowly walked towards you and as he did so, he impaled Hughs with a spike that protruded from his wrists causing the colonel to rapidly age before turning to dust.

The alien had absorbed his life force.

It was humanoid, but had no eyes, nose, or mouth. Scars from "research" littered his body. Its wrist spike retracted back into itself as it slowly stepped towards you.

His strange ribbed cock poking out of his genital slit and lengthening as he approached.

It looked slimy and writhed as if with a will of its own. All while glowing with the same green light the rest of his body did.

You cowered and sobbed. You weren't ready to die. You weren't ready to die. You weren't ready to die.

And you weren't going to.

The alien had no intention to hurt you. He wanted you to be his incubator.

Out of all the people in the facility you were the only one he sensed any sympathy from. And no ill will. He only sensed regret and anxiety whenever your gaze landed on him.

It was the only modicum of kindness he experienced while being captured, contained, and experimented on.

He clung to it, focused on it. It was a lifeline for him.

And when you broke the containment unit he was housed in, he was convinced you had been purposefully trying to free him.

As he loomed over you, he could sense your fear. He gently wiped your tears away with his prehensile cock before pulling you up, turning you around, and pulling your pants down.

Yes~

This would do perfectly as a receptacle for his egg.

You begged and babbled, sure that he was about to turn you into dust.

When his slimy dick worked its way into you the noises you were making progressed into screams.

He put his hands carefully on your fragile human hips as his priggle writhed all around inside you, causing you to squirm and moan involuntarily in pleasure.

If he had a mouth your alien mate would have cooed at that sound.

The alien's dick molded itself to your inside perfectly, to kiss every little fold of your intimate depths, leaking viscous goo as it did so.

After your tenth forced orgasm from your otherworldly lover your legs finally gave out and he had to hold you close as he pumped one final time into you.

He deposited a large egg inside causing your tummy to bulge out, quite beautifully in his opinion.

The creature put his hand on your head and used his abilities to make you fell into a well earned sleep.

Green slime leaked from your entrance and down your legs when he pulled out of you.

It was a good thing you were a janitor, because once he had you back on his home world you'd be dealing with this mess daily.

[lovegasmic]

⋆ MONSTERFUCKING ft. dragon Zhongli w dicks², Foul Legacy Childe, Capitano w forked tongue.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 cw. f!reader, choking w all of them, oral reader receiving, ( cap. ), doggy ( ch. ) mating press ( z. )

request from @queen-belial

NAVI ⁞ EVENT MASTERLIST

ִֶָ ZHONGLI

“absolutely divine” Zhongli purrs, voice deep and low, almost hypnotizing while dragging a sharp claw across your bottom lip, not deep enough to cut, but it stings the same as your thighs that press against your chest, uncomfortably spread and impaled on your lover’s thick cock, “your body... is made just for me, to accommodate me perfectly” it was a half truth, having spent so many years with him have thought you how to take him, accommodating your pussy walls to the shape and girth of him, and when he’a feeling extra greedy, perhaps let him slide both cocks in you? it’s a bit sad how one of them must be neglected, solely rubbing on your belly to get some friction.

a teasing roll of his hips follows, making you choke on your own saliva and eyes widen, unable to utter a word that isn’t a mindless babble with how deep Zhongli is sheathed, and of course, due to his long, clawed fingers around your throat, having you and your air flow at his complete mercy, “good?... oh, of course it is” a bit cocky, but how can you blame him when your face is an utter mess of tears and whines, not to mention the way your cunt repeatedly flutters around his fat cock, movements continuing although his hips start to pick up the pace, forcing the sticky head to repeatedly slam against your spot and your pussy to gush, only adding to the messy sound of skin slapping.

ִֶָ CHILDE

with wobbly legs and arched back is how you always find yourself after meeting up with Childe at the Golden House, your hands are both bent to your back, held by his one inhumanly large hand around your wrists, almost painfully digging his sharp nails on your tender skin, and the other... is perfectly around your neck, keeping your head up while his fat and long cock slammed into your insides, forcing for slick and precum to ooze out your hole and drip onto the floor.

sex with Childe in his Foul Legacy form is almost with no words, except for the grunts and groans, the slap of skin, and of course, your desperate squeals and screams of pleasure, repeatedly getting your needy pussy abused by the ridiculously large size of him, “it’s... nghmm so... too much...” you're blissed out, absolutely fucked dumb on his cock.

but will that stop him? no, never, in fact, your words only encourage him to go faster, almost lifting you off your feet with how strong... with how big Childe is in this form, causing you to struggle to take him, but the immense amounts of sticky precum he pours into your cunt are good lube at least.

ִֶָ CAPITANO

how many times have you found yourself perched against the nearest counter or table, legs spread and whimpering loudly with your lover’s thick tongue exploring your insides and a hand around your neck to stabilize you, although it often clenched and unclenched, stopping your air flow, almost teasing since your cunt slicked his tongue even more each time his grip tightened.

he groans deep, deep like his voice and deep like the tip of his forked, snake like tongue that pushed up against your pussy walls, dragging more delicious slickness from your hole and into his eager mouth, “so delicious, darling” he murmurs, slithering that two edged, incredibly long tongue of his inside you, exploring every corner of your wetness, cock throbbing under the thick layers of his clothes, something about having you bare and spread while Capitano remained fully clothed was absolutely perfect, only causing his length to throb and twitch at the thought, at the taste of your sweet slick.

a thick and calloused thumb reaches to rub your swollen clit, only encouraging you to cream his tongue, the one that messily slips out of your to lap at your folds, creating a wet mess all around with how lewd and uncoordinated was, purposely drenching your thighs and puffy slit before plunging inside again, mimicking how his cock will fuck you later on.

[anantaru]

WORKING OVERTIME — WRIOTHESLEY

synopsis. fucking your boss is not to be taken serious, correct?

cw. boss! wriothesley x employee! reader, slight mention of power imbalance, office sex, fem! reader

this is no serious matter. snap out of it.

this is sex, nothing more and nothing less. you can view it as releasing stored steam with your, well, boss.

wriothesley wasn't always the kindest boss to you, for whatever reason you might add. he could be severely strict and serious and couldn't stop pointing out mistakes, especially yours.

come a little closer now because there's a rumor going around— but some believe he does it on purpose to you, only when it's you and it doesn't matter how good you finish your tasks, he's very much aware of the fact that it gets you going.

it riles you up and makes you wet whenever he's rough with you.

alas, no matter his searing kisses that brand into your skin and practically scream you're mine, the candid words of endearment that drop from his lips like sticky honey on ones hands, the heavy look in his eyes whenever he exhales from his mouth upon pushing inside, admiring your face and calling you beautiful in his mind, this moment means nothing at all.

it's not real. it cannot happen.

it's sex, that's what it was, good fucking sex.

once, twice, thrice, endless— each thrust hits your nerves and spill everywhere, your bare breasts long since shown to him as his balls repeatedly smack against your ass. he's vicious— a duke in charge of everything and he breathes so heavenly when you squeeze around his shaft and let him feel for a moment, let him forget his duties just for once.

one warm palm twists around your breast and tugs on your nipple hard— call it a silent reminder, an aggressive prompting of why the duke was your boss and that you're under him.

in every way imaginable.

another reason as to why he didn't find it necessary to discard of his clothes other than hastily tugging his pants down to his knees, fully dressed while you're all naked for him to indulge in.

this is why he's in control and you aren't. remember your place.

a delicious roll of hips bounces your breasts up and down as your legs tighten around his waist, his leaky tip nudging deep against your sweetest spot with sweat making itself visible at his chiseled chest as he thrusts and thrusts and thrusts until you cry out in heavenly screams, pathetic cries and fuck, how good it felt to be practically tossed back and forth against a desk, impaled by a thick cock like his.

no matter which words you'd attempt to use to describe your filthy sounds, be it wailing or screaming and even whining out his name, wriothesley makes it sure to add a hidden promise between every single thrust that he'll make you cum even better than last time, and he's allowed to cum inside, correct?

hey, but again, this is nothing. nothing at all.

a galvanizing memory, call it a photograph or a printed picture prettily put in a golden frame, a delicious scene that the duke will take and put inside the most important parts in his brain, so he'll never forget and can always use such memories to make himself feel good whenever you aren't there.

until he never searches for those fantasies again, until he's fucked you out of his system and the creaks of the wooden desk screeching against the cold floor would cease to exist.

wriothesley leans against your body shaking on top of the cold desk, a distant roughness towering on top of his voice as you cry out one more wail of his name, the sticky feeling of his chest pressing against you being the least of your worries as he attempts to kiss you when you messily lick across his jaw instead, bypassing the kiss wriothesley wanted, no, needed to give you.

no kisses allowed, that was the deal, right? yet he still tries it. every damn time.

this is nothing. it's a helping hand for when either of you was too frustrated to concentrate on work, a willing hand and a willing cock, a hidden favour from employer to employee.

it's nothing with an explanation required, nothing that needs a specific name nor was it important enough to be called anything at all, because while you sure knew what it was, he knows what it's not.

you see, wriothesley wants more, he wants this. he wants you.

not only your addicting cunt sucking him in but he wants you to kiss him just kiss me already damn just do it please.

just once.

he drags his teeth against his bottom lip in agony and jerks his hips further into your squishy cunt, grunting at the throbs and shocks of arousal tensing from your walls and branding into his aching shaft.

but don't forget wriothesley was in control.

wait, was he? he won't risk it. he knows he can't. you're his employee.

because he knows it's not serious. he knows he's not that weak to fall for someone.

he cannot start having a crush on you, in fact, it was only possible to start from the beginning and not when you're already heads over heels for somebody— at last, breaching the line of a healthy work relationship between boss and employee.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[paymechildsupport]

"You're not my Husband..." // Doppel!Francis x Reader 🐄🩸

@cassanderasblog --> Thanks for the request <3

-!! CW: Dubcon (in a sense), – Brief mention of murder, – Very slight body horror

-!! Very brief size kink 

Spouse!Reader x doppelgänger!Francis  

▷ —--------------------

▷ —--------------------

▷ —-------------------- (s-s-s-sma-smash)

“You’re not Francis.” The words are sharp, punctuated, your glare burning straight through the mimic of a man in your living room

“No, I’m not,” The creature grins- if you could even call it that–, mouth a waning black chasm, no teeth, no tongue, nothing. How this thing managed to bypass the doormen you had no clue,-- how could someone fuck up this bad? 

“Francis’s” eyes darken, – literally. The whites turn into an inky black, eery small spheres of light peeking out where his pupils should be. 

Oh dear. 

The wired phone you keep on the kitchen counter goes off behind you. Glancing once more at your “husband” you slowly back track, hand inching to the phone. 

He just watches as you hesitantly pick up the ringing phone, making a click when it’s pulled from its cover. 

“Attention, this is the D.D.D, – we detected an unknown life force near your residency. Please, do not panic. Keep your door locked and do not approach anyone of suspicion. If you see anything weird, do not investigate. Dispatchers are coming to your location to liquidate the threat”   – Well, it was a little late for that. 

“... cancel dispatch” your lips form the words slowly. There’s silence on the other end, 

“Excuse me?... you want dispatch–” 

“Discharged. Threat neutralized.” 

Even “Francis” is stunned, – staring at you, unblinking, – flabbergasted. 

“‘Got it under control, thanks,” You hang up before they can answer, placing the phone back in its place. 

“Francis” just stares.

-

“You’re a doppelgänger , right?” 

“Perhaps.” His eyes narrow

“Alrighty then, prove it.” 

Unzips. 

—-------------

“Francis” stares, wide eyed, gaze fixed upon the water stains on your ceiling. Even with all the lights off, he can still see your snoozing frame tangled in the sheets beside him, (perks of being non-human). 

Your chest rose and fell with each breath, the movement captivating whatever posed as your husband. 

Your body looked serene, the faint light emitted from his glowing pupils illuminating your chest. 

“Ahah-!” You were practically in hysterics, tears flowing down your rosy cheeks, nails raking into the headboard of your bed. “Francis” could only lie there, enamored by your blissful expression as unfamiliar sparks of pure pleasure coiled inside, heating everything up until it was practically molten. 

“Mmph-!” you choke off your moans, slapping a hand to your mouth lest your neighbors hear you impaling yourself on your husband’s doppelgänger 's cock. 

You swivel your hips, his eyes widening; no one’s ever ridden him like you are, – no one’s ridden him period. You were surprised the doppelgänger  even had a dick, – let alone it being almost twice the size of the actual Francis’. You had stuffed yourself full of him, bouncing mercilessly. Your husband had neglected you horribly in the past,-- never coming home, always giving you the cold shoulder, even when you had gotten down and begged for him to look at you, just once –your thirst for intimate touch was at an all time high. 

“Francis” grunted, surprised at how wonderful this new sensation was. The delicious heat in his stomach bubbled over, bottoming out through his cock. Your eyes widened at the warm sensation of him, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You had to bend down, biting deeply into his shoulder to stifle the screams lodged in your throat. 

You inhaled deeply, desperately trying to catch your breath as “Francis” could only glance over, the slight pain in his shoulder from your teeth barely bothering him, (because, well, one, you were the only one who could breathe and two, he wasn’t human). Your head turns, sloppily kissing him on the cheek, to his absolute shock. 

“Francis” brings his right arm to his left shoulder, fingers gingerly grazing the marks left by your teeth. It still tingled. 

He looks over at your slumbering frame again, now tentatively reaching the same arm in your direction, hesitantly touching your peaceful face. You do not stir, so he continues downward, fingers carefully glazing over your nose, your mouth, your jaw, and finally stopping at your neck, your pulse vibrating through his hand. Humans were so interesting, he thought, – and you had just grabbed his interest by the throat with a viselike grip. 

He gently tucks a stray piece of hair plastered to your sweat slicked forehead behind your ear, grinning in that creepily endearing way of his. How the original Francis lucked out, – he almost felt bad about killing and devouring his corpse, – almost. How could he have fumbled so badly, – you were an absolute treasure, and “Francis” was now determined to keep you all to himself. 

Such a greedy little creature. 

… You’re never going to be able to get rid of him after this. 

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(requests for more Francis, -- doppelgänger or no, -- are open and very much appreciated !)

I love him a normal amount I swear 🙏🙏🙏

[entirelysein-e]

『 Yellow 』

☼ synopsis: Your lover gets too rough with you and you have to beg him to slow down - which he does

☼ characters: Geto, Gojo, Toji

☼ wc: 1.0k

☼ cw: gn!reader, afab!reader, overstimulation, spanking, fingering, mentions of bondage and anal fingering, slapping, clit slapping, face fucking, Toji calling reader "doll" and "slut"

☼ notes: just a liddol something while I work on the next fic as promised!! || Sign up for my taglist here

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ Geto:

✧ Geto had you lying beneath him, your knees pressed up to your chest, strong hands making sure you stay in this position as he plowed into you

✧ Your poor cunt was beyond sore from the previous overstimulation he put you through and you weren't sure if you could take it anymore

✧ He angled his hips upwards and freed one of his hands from your thigh to wrap around your throat and that's when you broke

✧ “Y-yellow” you croaked out and he didn't hear you at first so you tried to claw at his hand which made him let go, the pace of his hips not once faltering and it started to become too much

✧ “I said yellow!” You screamed out and Geto immediately pulled out, knowing the traffic light system but you never had to use it

✧ The tears were brimming in your eyes and he gently laid your legs back down before cupping your cheek

✧ “Better? Do you want to stop or go on gently?” He asked caring, a complete switch of attitude

✧ You only shook your head and pulled him back on top of you “don't wanna stop… it was just too much” you whispered and he pushed himself back in, you two laying in missionary

✧ The thrusts of his hips were deep and calculated but held such gentleness behind them that build up another orgasm fast

✧ His hands locked with yours, his gaze watching your features for any hint of pain this time - being rough was fun but only if you felt so too

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ Gojo:

✧ Gojo held you up against the wall, fucking into you like there's no tomorrow, your ass cheeks and thighs almost bruised from how hard he's holding onto them

✧ The occasional slaps that made you yelp brought him joy, mocking the little sounds

✧ But when he turned you around to fuck you in a full Nelson to flex with his his strength and make you watch yourself in the mirror he heard the word

✧ “Yellow… please” you whined and he slowly untangled you from the position without pulling out yet

✧ “Need me to pull out or just slower?” He asked with a grin, watching you as you looked at the image in the mirror, how you were impaled on Gojos cock made you wiggle in his hold

✧ “Nuh-uh. Talk to me, butterfly. Use your pretty mouth” he hummed encouraging, needing you to put an end up this or to tell him to go on

✧ “Slow please. Lay me down” you mumbled, almost embarrassed for having to slow this down since you were the one requesting him to be a little less caring this time

✧ Gojo nodded and pulled out before laying you on the bed onto your stomach, a pillow shoved under your hips “like this?” He asked, letting you decide

✧ You nodded, this empty feeling inside of you driving you insane - needing him, just less rough than before

✧ Goji spread your folds to get a look at your puffy clit before pushing himself back inside, gently rocking into your cunt

✧ Squelching noises filled the room as he kept hitting that spongy spot inside of you with utmost care and perfection it has you moaning his name like a dirty prayer

✧ When his arm wrapped around you to rub your clit with all the slick that's gathered there you made a mess out of the sheets, squirting around his cock that was buried deep inside of you - and he was far from done

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ Toji:

✧ Toji had a field trip with you, tied to the bed on arms and legs, enjoying just how helpless you are as he knelt above your chest, the tip of his thick cock kissing your lips

✧ “Open wide” he hummed and slapped you across the cheek when you refused, knowing nothing is off limits tonight unless you say the safe word

✧ This position didn't satisfy him, turning around to face your cunt now as how dick was pushed carelessly into your mouth until it was nestled in your throat entirely

✧ Toji groaned as he started to thrust into the wetness of your mouth, fucking your face

✧ His hands were busy on your little pussy, rubbing your bundle of nerves and every time you made a sound he would slap it

✧ “Look at you, little slut. Liking when I hit you there, hm?” He teased, his hips stilling for a moment to fully enjoy the way you clench around nothing with each slap

✧ When he had his fill he finally pulled away to let you breathe properly again, untying your legs so he could position you on all four, your head cruelly pushed down to the mattress

✧ It only took him one hard thrust to bottom out, a low moan rumbling through his chest at how tight you feel around him before he started pounding into you harshly

✧ His thumb was gently massaging your puckered hole, ready to push it inside when he heard the cue to take it easy

✧ “Did I hear yellow?” He asked, pulling your head out of the pillows by your hair and you wailed, screaming it again

✧ “Did I break my little doll?” He teased but let you turn around, already knowing how to handle the situation since it happens every other time

✧ “Let me make you feel good, baby. No need to worry. Gonna take care of you” he whispered in your ear, now in missionary with you as he rocked his hips into yours gently

✧ It was fascinating how gentle he could be with you if needed, his hands roaming your body as the tip of his cock kissed your cervix in gentle thrusts, slowly getting you closer to your much needed orgasm

Networks: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

[nikaandtea]

poolverine hcs!!

as i wait for art block to pass, take some poolverine brainrot because i need an outlet!

slight cw for mentions of vomiting, panic attacks, and a bit of stabbing.

The first night that Logan stayed at the apartment he insisted to both Wade and Al that he wouldn't be there longer than a week. Wade kept trying to buy him a toothbrush, assign him a towel, and even got him a separate razor. Logan was stubborn, and kept standing his ground on the fact he was about to move out soon anyway. But then Logan starts restocking household items after he started doing jobs with the TMA. Wade noticed that the fridge was almost never empty, and the laundry detergent hasn't run out in months. Logan started looking after Mary as well, and always denied any sort of attachment to the dog. One day, Wade notices the third toothbrush in the sink (which was usually the flimsy travel ones) changed to a regular one.

Wade is really physically affectionate, and that is not news. Logan isn't, and when Wade can't take the hint he gets a stab to the forearm. At one point, he actually does stop. Just for a day, Wade is too preoccupied with his own thoughts to nag Logan like he usually would in the morning. Logan notices. Logan notices, and misses the rush he felt when Wade would try and hop on his back while Logan was looking inside the fridge, or the taze into his side because Wade fucked around and learned the Wolverine was ticklish. So when Wade is reading something on his phone, ignoring all his surroundings on the couch Logan sits down. He sits down and presses their knees together. Wade initially flinches and opens his mouth for a snarky remark, which is cut short by Logan impaling him in the thigh. Mixed signals.

Logan regularly has nightmares about the X-men dying in his universe. He wakes up in a cold sweat and a racing heart from the images his brain forces to replay. Usually he walks about the dark living room and waits for a bit until he feels the panic subside. Sometimes he gets a drink from the kitchen and lets the buzz help him fall back into sleep. One of these nights just as he recovers, Mary bumps into his leg. Knowing she usually sleeps with Wade, Logan looks up from the floor as he sat on the couch, his breaths shallow and uneven. Wade doesn't question him, he gets Logan water and just sits next to him. Wade touched Logan plenty, uncalled for and vise versa. But Logan never forgets the long forgotten bloom in his chest that formed when Wade cautiously wrapped and arm around Logan.

Wade for sure has eaten a dishwasher tablet 'for science'. Logan watched him go through all stages of grief as he spit it out, tried to rinse it, foamed the chemicals further, and inevitably vomited. Logan made fun of him for a week and then made a deal with Wade to switch to powdered detergent.

Mary likes Logan better, you can't keep her away. Wade is jealous, and Logan knows it.

The apartment gets really cold in the winter. Al always gets to the only warm blanket before Wade ever can, and Logan didn't realize there is such an issue in the first place. Of course, he finds out in the middle of the night just as Wade begins to drag various throw blankets into his room. Logan and him bicker, before agreeing to go get more in the morning and tough it out for the night. Logan curses the shitty futon he sleeps on and bites down his ego. Wade is under at least five layers before Logan pushes him to the edge of the bed, climbing underneath the small pile with a slight shiver from the cold. Wade begins to crack jokes about how they are sleeping together, and Logan needs Wade, all of which Logan glares at him for before putting a pillow over his ears. Wade does end up falling silent, and wiggling up against Logan's back. He allows it, this once. Only because Wade is warm.

okay that's all they are the WORST.

[imwetforyourmom]

NOT HER.

pt6

CW: crying, swearing, matt having his turn with a heart broken, mention of daggers and impaling (NOT PHYSICAL VIOLENCE. ONLY IN Y/NS HEAD.), rejection, y/s/n = your sisters name, or brother if you have one js pretend i used he pronouns, not proofread, halfassed towards the end

A/N: I hated this series and changed the ending

A/N II: yall can thank @joemamaaa42069 and @sturnwritess for helping motivate me to get ts out

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

·˚ ༘

“no matt. you dont get to do this to me.”

matt stood up from the bench table, everything crashing down onto him at once. he didnt bother looking at madi, he only ran to his car, his breathing panicked and his chest aching almost as hard as his head was.

what?

he still couldnt wrap his head around Amelia and matt's shared argument earlier and what she'd said, let alone her lies.

"i- im- I have to go, madi, I need to go." he stumbled over his words, his eyes trained on the green grass under his feet, currently doing their best to keep him up and standing.

his mind too focused on the shuddering of his breathing, the rhythmed shaking of his eyes (even if they werent even shaking), the uncomfortable churning in his stomach.

madi’s voice rang throughout the thick, tension full air, her tone sympathetic and her eyes filled with sympathy. her voice a call for his name, a long for him to return back to earth, not tucked away into the depths of his regrets, beginning tears, possible outcomes, but most importantly, all the why’s?

why, would amelia do that? why was she selfish enough to tear apart a perfectly healthy relationship because she wanted him?

why would she do all of this? lying, distancing matt away from y/n, making him believe he wanted to have sex with her, all to destory it by herself, what was the point only for it to come crashing down onto her—his shoulders.

the earth he was meant to be currently focusing on felt like it found its new atmosphere on his shoulders, relying on him for its life. but he couldn’t even trust himself to know who was right for him, let alone an earth that resembled the same life of his relationship with y/n.

his vision clouded black, re occuring multi-colored dots layering over eachother, a painful, ringing went right through his ears. piling more regret onto his shoulders.

his feet stumbled their way to his car, his hands repeatedly missing the handle of the drivers seat, his vision contiously going in and out, making driving impossibly harder than it needed to be.

finally pulling the lever open, he sat uncomfortably onto his seat, though, he didnt care about that right now, all he cared about was y/n. y/n y/n y/n y/n.

he took in heavy, shaky breaths, the rising and falling of his shoulders becoming harder with each initial thought of what he could have done differently.

he leaned his head onto the headrest and squeezed his eyes shut, praying that it’d somehow silence everything.

y/ns eyes opened groggily, a small headache living in her wake from the previous night.

though, the headache wasn't the first thing she thought of when opening her eyes. understandably, why would it? instead, her first thought was the regret and dread to have opened her eyes and see the sun, she just wanted to sleep more, more and more. sleeping was her newfound escape. as hard as it was getting over her previous 'safe spot' matt she knew she had to, it wouldn't do her any good just moping about and praying she could just run to someone.

she relied on matt the entire time she had him, a person she thought would never leave. and now that he was gone, she couldnt run to him, the same familiar grasp that always held onto her. she couldn't hear the same, comforting "sh, sh, sh y/n its okay." in the thick, tension and tear filled atmosphere.

tears began to brim at her eyes, she curled into a ball, unwilling to get out of bed, her muscles dreading and aching with even the thought of turning in bed. how could he have costed her this much physical pain, without even touching her? maybe thats why. he didnt touch her. he only touched with his words, bringing his lips to shape each letter of the words he spoke, the bunched together letters coming out with daggers. each dagger finding its spot on her body, digging deep, then twisting.

each wound slowly re-opening with each newfound thought of matt. he used to be inlove with her, they used to find comfort in the other, even with no words whispered into the atmosphere, shoved, or gently guided into. whether their hands gently glide along the others bare, warm body, or rough, desperate movements, desire lacing the gropes. yet, within each own moment claimed of the past, comfort was exchanged, deep in the moment, hidden or well-known.

she couldn’t keep up with him, or this. it was all too fucking much. to have him ripped away so abruptly from the gentle love of her warm palms, was too sudden of a change, it seemed as if in the grasp of matts own hands, a piece everything went with him. how was she meant to regrow that part of her? how was she meant to be fulfilled, without what she’d relied on to keep her in one piece, for what seemed like for forever?

her heart mangled more inside her chest, the physical pain striking throughout her chest achened the worsening headache in her head. she was crumbling into the palms of her own boyfriends doing. why was she the one living through it? what did she do to deserve this?

her shoulders began to shake, soft sobs rippling through her body. she felt like giving up. her body physically ached and dreaded, her muscles tense with everything she wanted to say to matt, her lips twitched and shuddered as the sobs slipping from the breaking wall inside her body intensified. curling her legs to her chest, her closest attempt at warming herself, like the light shining down onto her in the middle of a hurricane. yet, the light was slowly dimming, the tears dragging down her face sliding in sync with the rain moving closer to her per minute.

a stomping ascending up the stairs knocked y/n out of her entrance, but no less made the urge to shove her face into the pillow and rot inside the comforting embrace of her comforter, easier.

what she recognized to be her sisters voice was heard behind the wood of her door, a tinge of sympathy clinging to her tone.

“matts here, hes asking for you, y/n.” her knuckles brushed gently onto the door, a soft gentle knocking echoing into the enclosure of her now no longer comforting room.

she couldnt escape him. everywhere she went, he ruined it.

with an aching head, y/n sat up. clinging her knees to her chest, running her fingertips down her shins. mentally preparing herself to see him again, to see the face that’d caused this all.

she cleared her throat and wiped her eyes, doing nothing to rid the bloodshot in her eyes and the obvious puffiness.

standing from the bed, she made her movements quick and sharp, leaving her room and attempting to sweep past her sister, before she grabbed y/ns arm. spinning her back to face her sister. her usual face adorned with a warming smile, held a frown upon it, her eyes seeping with knowing and the guilt she felt forming in her eyes. just seeing her little sister like this was tearing her apart.

“y/n,” she whispered, a crack interrupting her speech. she grabbed y/ns shoulders, bringing her to wrap her arms around y/ns torso. bringing the comfort y/n so desperately needed, yet too humilated to ask for it.

“I dont know what happened at all, but im not stupid either,”— she began, her fingers coming up to twirl y/ns hair between her fingers. her voice a lovey tone. —“but, I want you to know. you dont have to go down there and speak to him, for what he did to you, he doesnt deserve to see your pretty face again.” she spoke, her voice trembling almost as hard as her hands were.

y/ns heart imploded inside her chest, fighting back the sobs she previously just wiped away. “I know,” y/n whispered back, her cheek rested on her shoulder. her own hands coming to attach to y/s/n waist, pulling apart and sparing her one last look, going to leave to the stairs, but not before a gentle peck was placed on her hairline.

a small smile fought its place on y/ns face. though she kept on with her path to the door, opening the door to meet a rain-soaked matt. his shirt dragging down with the water soaked in it, slowly dripping the escaping droplets.

he looked up at her, his eyes trailing across his girls face.

“y/n-“

“who do you think you are showing up like this matt?” she interrupted. her eyes laying no mercy onto the man standing before her, his eyes withholding desperation, guilt swashing inside the blue, and yearn taking it all. why was he yearning for something he gave up? what gave him the fucking right?

“I- nobody- y/n, please, hang on just a minute, please.” he took in a breath, his eyes dancing across her features. she felt sick.

“I need you, I tried with her, but I couldnt. shes just- shes not, shes just not you, y/n. I need you.” his voice was laced with franticness. if it werent for the rain, she would’ve thought he was crying.

“gee matt, so it wasnt you that said ‘why do you have to be so needy?’ and dumped me? do you know where you are right now? do you realize what you did and said to me?” she spat, her voice holding a ridge toward him, his lips twitched to speak, yet she spoke first.

“oh my gosh, and I thought I cheated on you matt? what about that? you’re really gonna come back to me even after I ‘cheated’ on you? is your self respect that fucking low?” despite her very obviously pissed off demeanour, inside she was crumbling to the same fragile weak girl matt had left her the last time they saw eachother. her hands trembled with the fighting she was doing, the war to keep the emotions she wanted to scream out into the world, low and strictly inside her.

“y/n, you have to understand. I was pissed, I thought you cheated on me, but you didnt, and I know that now, please y/n, just hear me out.” his voice broke, his pre-teen voice cracks haunting the ghost of his well balanced voice. tears began welling in his eyes, slipping down his cheeks, disguising with the other rain droplets.

y/n scoffed, fed up with his bullshit. “hear you out? hear you fucking out? this is embarassing at this point, matt. get the fuck off my porch, dont come back till you’ve grown a pair and actually have good reasoning.” her words shattered matt, his tears became more consistent, becoming more visible alongside the rain. he looked pathetic.

he opened his mouth to speak, yet nothing came out. his lungs deflated in defeat. his shoulders slumped, and his eyes fell under the claim of yearn, broken, and most of all, guilt.

“no matt. you dont get to do this to me.” her previous confident, and pissed demeanour, crashed down. her voice was exasperated, yet heard so clearly throughout the rain. it echoed into matts ears, he would’ve taken her into his arms, rock her like she was his again, take her and murmur sweet things into her ear, but he chose not to, not willing to feel her push him away again like that, instead, he was left to watch as she fell apart, her tears resurfacing, her sobs racking her body, her face flushing to pink.

y/n shook her head, whispering defeatedly, “go, matt.” before turning away and opening the door infront of herself, cowering inside. she shut the door and leant her back against it, slowly sliding to the floor as gut wrenching sobs shook her body, her stomach physically hurting. a warm arm wrapped around her shoulder, pulling her into her sisters embrace.

sat beside her, her sister held her, letting y/n soak her sweater with tears, and y/ns wet, rain soaked shirt aswell. resting y/s/n cheek on her head, her hand rubbing gently, assuringly y/ns back, her own heart aching with having to witness her sister like this, and all because of a man.

2,129 words.

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[starry-bi-sky]

my body's aching like a knock-down drag-out

and my poor heart is an open wound A Childhood Friends Au snippet that very briefly delves into Danny's life post-accident. CW: Mild Mentions of Blood, Violence, VERY mild gore ig. Danny briefly recalls getting impaled during a fight.

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

What they don't tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it can hurt. That it can hurt more than when you were alive. That when you die, the emotions you die with stick with you like a leech that just won't let go. That emotions are ugly little thorns that stick their barbs into you and grow beneath your skin; or, at least, whatever’s left of it. 

Danny is familiar with anger. It kept him warm in Gotham, when his parents weren't home from work and he and Jason were crowding Crime Alley with their presence. It kept him warm in Amity, when the fresh sting of moving was still needling into his heart and he wanted nothing more than to rip and tear into the closest person next to him.

He's familiar with violence. With fights. With death. He's seen people die in Crime Alley probably every day. From overdose, from gunshots, from stab wounds; anything that can kill, rest assured he's seen it. He's familiar with getting his own knuckles rough and bloody when other kids turn and bare their teeth at him and Jason; they're all just starving dogs stuck in a fighting pit, primed and ready to rip out each other's throats. 

Black eyes, stomped hands, bloody noses. You name it; he’s had it. Gotham is paved with the blood of her children, and Danny likes to imagine that when he was born, the doctors handed his mother a file and told her; “Take it. He’s going to need it for his teeth.” 

Danny’s mom (and dad, for that matter) was too busy trying to keep him and Jazz fed, so Danny stole the file from her drawer with Jazz’s help, and did it himself.  

He’s familiar with anger, he thought he was getting better at it these days. It doesn’t come to him as easily as it did before. Of course, that was before Jason died. 

Danny is less familiar with grief. Caring kills and Gotham kills the caring, so Danny cares very little about other people. Or he tries to. But grief hurts. His grief hurts. It hurts too much. It hurts like a bug trying to crawl out of his chest; like a rat chewing a hole through his heart. Some days he wants to dig his hands into his hair and split himself down the middle. Some days he just wants to scream. 

He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. 

He wants the whole city to hear him wailing, some days. It sticks itself in the back of his throat like bile, and Danny is one wrong retch away from letting it loose. It sticks in his lungs like all the tar he’s smoked in since he was nine. It pushes and aches at his temples, in his head, like his brain is trying to swell out of his skull. His thoughts becoming so loud they threaten to commandeer his tongue.  

He has no mouth, but he must scream. 

Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it hurts more than when you were alive. Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it’s violent. That it’s bloody. Or as bloody as it can be when everyone has no blood. 

Another thing they don’t tell you about being dead, is that it’s a lot like Gotham that way.

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies forget death itself. Blood comes easy, like water, and teeth are encouraged. Bring your own fangs to the fight. Dying is something you can just walk off. 

Danny’s been dead for three months. He can’t say he’s been walking it off easy. He’s perfected the art of turning his nails into claws since his heart was still beating, but he can’t say he’s perfected fighting other ghosts. 

Scrappy is just not enough. 

He feels like he’s back in Gotham again. Back in her death-shroud alleyways, fighting someone bigger than him. But there’s no Jason to watch his back, and Danny has to get himself out of there alone. Or he might just not get up at all. 

Black eyes, busted lips. It’s familiar to him like an old scent, Danny isn’t quite sure that he’s missed it. It’s more familiar than his fights with Dash. 

But there’s no one else who can do it but him. Not Sam, not Tucker. He can’t lose them too. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t. His heart can’t take another break, he already feels like he’s going insane. 

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies fight like death themself. He learns why when Technus puts a street sign through his stomach one day. It pins him to the asphalt like a moth pinned by its wings. 

Danny claws at the metal like how an animal caught in a trap chews off its leg, and every move is blinding pain. He thinks he was howling, but it’s hard to tell. He couldn’t recognize the sound of his voice. 

He bleeds green. It mixes in black with the pitch blackhole in his heart, which throbs and twists and cries in time with his reckless panic. The finger-choking terror of dying again strangles out the air he doesn’t need. His blood evaporates, only to reabsorb into him. It just bleeds out again, cycling like a snake eating its own tail. 

Danny breaks his nails clawing at the metal, and eventually gets it in his mind to pull it out. So he does, and the end drips ectoplasm green as he gets to his feet. In red-vision, Danny sends the sign back with snarling, vicious fervor. The pain is irrelevant in his rage.

Only after the fight does the hole the pole left start to close. Danny doesn’t shift human until it’s gone. Unlike other injuries, a scar stays behind. Ugly; mottled, it aches for a week with every twist and stretch his body makes. He hates it. 

Being dead is agony. 

Every part of him is in pain. Every step, every word he speaks, everything he does, it is prerequisite with pain. The body is temporary, but the soul is forever, and death has carved into it with its freezing green hands and left him with never-ending heartache. It has torn from him and stolen what of him it could, and in return it’s left him with sorrow. 

His pain is his grief, and he’s sobbed in the safety of his room more times than he can count. It’s still as fresh as the day he heard the news of Jason’s death. He knows, instinctively, that it will stay fresh forever. 

In his room, Danny shoves his hands over his mouth and shrieks in whatever, muffled way he can into his pillow. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. He needs to be louder. He needs to be heard. He refuses to be. 

Being dead hurts. 

[claws-and-quills]

Not So Silent Treatment

A/N: This is the first time ever written anything on Logan in a really long while. Shootout to my bestie @callsignred for the idea!

CW: Profanity, Primal Hunter/Primal Prey Kink, Mentions of Male and Female Anatomy, Unprotected Sex (we're all adults here 😂), Slight Praise Kink, Oral (Female Receiving), Over Stimulation

Word Count: 5,089 I really outdid myself on this one

It had been a few days since you and Logan had returned back to the Mansion after a mission that had gone awry. The tensions that lingered between you and Logan were so thick and suffocating that you could cut through them with a knife. The mere idea of being in the same room, much less under the same roof of the Mansion as him made your blood boil. You could still hear his words. They were practically burned into the back of your mind.

During the mission, you had refused to take orders from Logan towards the end. It was a do or die situation, and you let your emotions get in the way of your judgments. If it hadn't been for you having your own healing factor, that day would have been your last. While attempting to take down a rogue mutant, you and Logan both had been overtaken from underestimating this mutant. You refused to flee despite Logan yelling at you to get out of there. In turn, you sat there on the bed you usually shared with Logan, gazing up at the roof.

The bed felt so empty without Logan laying next to you. After the argument each of you had, he had refused to sleep in there with you. This hurt worse than that piece of steel that had impaled you through the left lower portion of your abdomen. Neither of you would apologize for the things that each of you had yelled at each other. It was in the heat of the moment and out of irrational emotions. You sigh with exasperation, tossing and turning, unable to find sleep.

“This is stupid…all of this is stupid.”

You curse under your breath and force yourself up and out of the bed. The emptiness of the room felt suffocating. It felt as though someone had dropped a ton of bricks onto your chest. Glancing at the small clock that rested on the dresser, the time read 02:45. It was almost three in the morning on the fifth day, and still, neither you nor Logan spoke a word to each other. You angrily grab a pair of your jeans and a tank-top to replace your pajamas. At this point, you had figured maybe getting out of the mansion for a little while could do you some good.

Cracking the door open, you glance both ways around the hall to be sure no one was wandering this late. Seeing it empty, you quietly exhale a breath and sneak towards the staircase and tiptoe down to the first level of the mansion. Parts of you begged that Logan was asleep, but your heart screamed that he would be awake and that you could try to talk about what happened. Straining your eyes, you try to see if you can see the figure of Logan on the couch. Your gut nagged at you to sneak closer, but you also wanted out of there for a few minutes. Fresh air would do you some good, and hopefully a jog around the campus would tire you enough to be able to sleep.

Furrowing your brows, you sigh dejectedly and quietly snake your way out of the door of the mansion. The night air was cool and crisp. The pale moonlight had cast an eerily familiar glow across the night sky. Stars twinkled like tiny lanterns against the blanket of black sky. The moisture that clung to the air had formed a ghastly ring around the moon, and filled the air with a soothing chill that prickled at your skin.

Once you are far enough away from the mansion, you bring yourself into a light jog. The cool, night air stung your lungs and gripped your chest, almost constricting your lungs. Cursing, you push yourself to pick up your pace. The only sounds you could hear were the chirping of crickets and the light fluttering of your heart in your chest. In that moment, your legs brought you further and further away from the mansion. The farther away you managed to bring yourself from there, the closer you drew to breaking.

Your chest grew tight and the back of your throat began to burn with emotion. Tears had begun to sting the corners of your eyes, and before you knew it, your knees were crumbling from beneath you, sending you to the ground onto your hands and knees. Hot tears fell from your eyes, staining your cheeks as you punched the ground. Your emotions hit you like a runaway freight train. Anger. Sadness. Remorse. Hurt. They surged through your veins like a hurricane threatening to tear you apart from the inside out.

Your mind wandered back to the mission. You could still picture everything vividly. Hear everything vividly.

“Get out of here! Go! I can handle these assholes!” Logan had yelled at you while struggling against the rogue mutant and several of its cronies.

“No! I'm not leaving here without you! We came here as a team, we're leaving here as a team!” You had retorted. Ya'll were outnumbered and potentially outmatched. But neither of you wanted to give up so easily. Your protesting against Logan had distracted him enough to leave him vulnerable. Even if it was just a few seconds, you saw the impending attack coming.

“Logan!!!” You cried out, rushing to him and hastily pulled him out of the way of the approaching attack that landed you injured. You didn't care about your own well being at that moment. You had pulled Logan out of the way, but landed yourself severely injured and the rogue mutant had escaped.

As you thought back to it, the more tears that fell down your cheeks. You were mad at yourself, mad at Logan, mad at everyone and anyone possibly that was involved on that mission. But that wasn't even the part that had hurt you the most. It was the argument after you had recovered.

“When I tell you to leave, I mean it. You could have gotten yourself killed! What the hell were you thinking?!”

“I was trying to protect you! You're welcome by the way. No thank you. No that you're glad I'm okay. No nothing?! Just straight to tearing into me?!”

“Protect me? By getting yourself killed?! Oh, very smart. Perfect. You almost got yourself killed and we failed the mission thanks to you!”

“Fuck you. You can be a real prick, Logan. A real fucking prick.”

“Rather be a prick than an idiot, Princess.”

“Just get out. If you're just here to lecture me, then get the fuck out! Get out! I'm done!”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

That wasn't how you wanted things to go. It wasn't how you pictured things would go. The last thing you wanted to do was to yell at Logan the way you had, much less end things on such a sour note. You sniffle, wiping your eyes on the back of your wrists. The damage was done. The words were said. You curse under your breath at yourself for breaking down again like this. Just as you began to move to get to your feet, you could hear the sound of approaching footsteps. Heavy footsteps. Your heart crawled its way deep into your throat, making you almost choke on your own breath. You recognized that stride; Logan. What the hell was he doing out here?

He walked next to you without a word. His brows were knitted together tightly, eyes dark and lost in thought. Without a word, he plops down next to you, resting his forearms on his knees. His eyes were fixed on the dark labyrinth of forest that surrounded the mansion. A rich had worked its way into his jaw as he silently mulled things over in his head. There was so much he wanted to say, but yet he still remained adamant on not breaking his silent treatment towards you.

It took everything in you to not stare at him. Your heart somersaulted in your chest. It felt like you were laying your eyes on him for the first time all over again. You missed him, and he missed you, but both of you were too level headed to say anything. You swallow dryly as the corners of his lips twitch slightly. Fuck. You knew he could hear the way your heart was fluttering. You wanted to stay mad at him, but at this point, you didn't have the energy anymore. Before you can open your mouth, by some miracle, he broke the unofficial oath of silence between you two.

“Stop trying to fake it. I can hear it , y'know.” You wanted nothing more than to pounce on him right then and there, but you kept your composure. Sniffling again, you shrug off his comment.

“I was jogging. Of course my heart is going to be beating a little harder, Captain Obvious.” You practically hiss at him. It was growing harder to stay mad at him. You missed him. You missed his voice. You missed the way he smelled of oak, leather, and mint. You frantically blink away the tears that threatened to form in the corners of your eyes.

“Can tell the difference, Princess. Don't have to lie about it,” he states bluntly. He knew he was getting under your skin at this point. You hated how smug he appeared to be. You hated how he could be so comfortable doing this without so much as an apology. At this point you'd be satisfied with a half-assed ‘I was wrong’ from him, but you knew that would never happen.

Silence then fell between each of you again. You tried your best to ignore him being there, focusing your attention on anything but him. But his presence was damn near unbearable. He had sat close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body, but just far enough to be right out of immediate touch. You catch yourself glancing at him, eyeing him up and down. With the white beater he wore, you could see how visibly tense he was. His biceps looked tense, hard even. His chest slowly rose and fell with steady breaths. It felt impossible to pry your eyes off of him.

“Y'know, for being so mad at me, you sure are starin’ a lot. S'there something on your mind?” He finally turns to face you, cocking his head to the side. You tried your best to look away from him, but for some reason, he just wasn't having that. He moved closer to you despite your efforts to keep your gaze away from him. He finally settles himself in front of you; the way he was crouched in front of you forced you to drag your eyes towards him. His gaze was hard on you, but something about it was different. Part of you half expected another lecture to come from him.

“If you came out here to give me another lecture, you're wasting your time.” You state bluntly and try to turn away from him, but he grabs your knee tightly in his hand, dragging you closer to him. The sudden tug earns a soft yelp from you. The force causes you to fall against your back into the grass. Logan moves to rest his weight on the palms of his hands on either side of your head, his knees encasing your hips leaving you with nowhere to go. Your heart thundered in your chest and ears. As much as you wanted to stay mad at him, your body instinctively gave in to how easily he could overpower you. You felt mad; you felt hopeless; but underneath everything, you wanted him–no–needed him back. Tears began to burn the corners of your eyes again, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut again to keep the tears from falling.

Logan audibly exhales a heavy sigh. He moves his hand to gently rest on your cheek, using his thumb to wipe away your tears. Seeing you like this tore him apart on the inside. This hurt him in ways he never knew he could hurt. “Look at me. C'mon, hey. Hey…look at me, please. You know damn good and well I don't like beggin’ now, Darlin’.”

His gaze was still hard on you, but his voice was surprisingly soft. You finally open your eyes to gaze up at him. God you wanted him so badly. You finally move your hands to gently rest against his chest. His heart thrumbed rhythmically deep in his chest; every beat you felt against the palm of your hand pushed your anger down further. You knew it, and he knew it too that neither of you meant all of those words from before. “Lo…I--I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry…”

Your sentence is cut short as he presses his lips against yours for a hungry and needy kiss. He tasted heavenly on your lips, sinful even. His tongue flicks against your lower lip, begging for entrance. Your lips part with a needy moan, allowing him entrance. His fingers find their way into your hair at the base of your skull, tugging harshly to force you to crane your neck as another sinful moan fell from your lips. The new angle allows him to deepen the kiss even further. Your arms snake around his neck, wanting to hold him there and never let go.

He breaks away from the kiss to hungrily gulp down air. A string of saliva remained connected between both your and his lips. His eyes close again as he presses his forehead against yours, breathing in your scent and slowly exhaling a shaky breath. “M'sorry too. I really am. Thought I–I was going to lose you…” He buries his face into the hollow of your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and love bites along your pulse. The heat of his breath against your skin sends bolts of electricity through your body. A layer of goosebumps scratch their way onto the surface of your skin.

“Lo…” You whine quietly, craning your neck to give him better access. The scruff on his chin scrapes against your skin, making your eyes flutter as your entire body begins to grow hot. You wanted him. Needed him. A soft gasp escapes you at the sensation of his teeth sinking into your tender skin just above your collarbone. Any harder and you knew his teeth would draw blood, but you didn't care. You wanted him to take you, to mark you, to make you his again. “Lo, please…my god, please…”

He releases your shoulder, his mouth leaving behind a rapidly bruising hickey there. You couldn't help the heat that you felt growing in the pits of your gut and loins. Your thighs ached and your pussy burned for him and his touch. You lift your head to gaze up at him. He was hunkered down on all fours, his eyes were dark, primal even as he licked his lips. He could still taste your sweet and tender skin on his lips, and he wanted more, needed more. Your heart began to thunder uncontrollably within your chest. Fear and arousal filled your body. The sweet scents made his pupils dilate as he breathed you in once more, growling lowly deep in his chest.

“Run. Run little lamb. I'll be kind enough to give you a headstart.” He husks through a growl that sends a shiver down your spine. The look in his eyes was so much more than a wanting need. This was a primal want, a hunger–a hunger that only longed for you and your body. Your legs felt weak with fear and arousal. There was only one other time you had experienced Logan like this, and by God's did you want to experience it again. You're slow to get to your feet. Your head is swimming with different emotions and scenarios.

“Lo–”

“Ten seconds, little lamb.”

Fuck, he was serious. You were almost too afraid to turn and run.

“Nine.”

He was standing at this point. He stood close to a foot over you in height. The corner of his lips twitched into a near snarling grin as he started to walk–no–stalk towards you. Your heart is still thundering in your chest, you manage to find the strength in you to try to run. You didn't know where you would run to; all you knew is that your legs went into overdrive, carrying you wherever you could. All you knew is that you had to run. Run as far and fast as you possibly could. You glance over your shoulder, seeing him still standing there with his eyes still trained on you.

‘Five. Come on legs, move! Faster dammit! Faster!’ Your thoughts raced wildly. You had two options, run to the forest or try to run to the Mansion. You felt hopeless, cause at any second, you knew Logan would be on you like a rabid and hungry animal. The thought of that only added to your growing arousal. The heat between your thighs was almost unbearable. You needed some sort of friction to help with the ever growing ache.

‘Shit. Shit. Shit! Oh god, I can hear him. Move legs! Move faster, dammit!’ It was undeniable. You knew Logan was now rapidly closing in on the distance you had made from him. You could hear every breathy, pant he took with every step he made towards you. Taking one last glance over your shoulder, your eyes widened in shock at how quickly he moved across the ground. He was on all fours, bounding towards you with no intention of stopping until he had you in his grasp. You try to force your legs to move faster, but your calves begin to burn. You were doomed. Your chest and lungs burned with every breath you gulped down. He was drawing himself closer by the second. You could see his silhouette on the ground behind you growing nearer. You gulp down the lump in your throat.

“Not fast enough, little lamb.” His voice rasped as he grew closer. Within seconds, his arms are curling around you as he tackles you down to the ground. Curling his body around yours, he takes most of the impact as you're both sent tumbling across the grass. You desperately try to push him off, but it’s to no avail. You're pinned to the ground by him, but still, you desperately try to wriggle free from him which only makes him growl with pleasure at your struggling.

“Logan, please.” You whine again, chest heaving and body aching. You try to rub your thighs together for friction, but that idea is short-lived. Using his knees, he forces your thighs apart while hungrily crashing his lips against yours. The heat of his mouth swallows up your moans.

“Please what? Use your words, little lamb.” He husks against your lips. His hands snatch your wrists as you try to touch his chest, pinning them above your head. Like this, you were completely at his mercy, awaiting to viciously and lavishly be devoured by him.

“Need you. I need you. Please. Logan, I need you.” You beg hopelessly beneath him. He growls lowly under his breath, his entire body vibrating against yours as he does so. You weren't sure how much longer you could handle this. Your entire body felt like it would explode at any moment from the anticipation. “Logan, I need you…need you to take me…claim me…fuck me…”

“That's a good little lamb,” he husks again. His voice is raspy, bassy even. Leaning back onto his heels, he pulls you flush against his chest with a sinister smirk. “Tonight, you're mine, and only mine.” In one fluid motion, he's onto his feet, pulling you along with him as he tosses you over his shoulder with ease. You clamp a hand over your own mouth to muffle your pitiful squeak. This was it, you were done for, but by the gods did you need this. For days, each of you had been starved of attention, affection and each other's touch. Each of you needed this more than either of you could comprehend.

His chest was heaving. The scent of your arousal was driving him crazy. He could hear your heart fluttering rapidly in your chest, your shallow breaths, and the soft, muffled whimpers of need that you desperately tried to hide through the palm of your hand. Every step, he grew closer to the Mansion where he quietly entered and made his way up the stairs with you. You prayed that everyone was still asleep; that no one would be able to hear the way he was going to fuck you.

He sets you down so that he can open the door to the bedroom he shared with you. You practically stumble through the door, eager for his touch to be on you again. Once the door is closed and locked, he's on you again like a feral animal. His lips crash against yours as he backs you up towards the bed. He breaks the kiss for a moment, eagerly tugging your shirt up your body and over your arms, tossing it somewhere across the room. You take the opportunity to hike his beater up his stomach and chest; grabbing the garment and tugging it over his head, he tosses it as well before reconnecting his lips to yours.

His fingers maneuver around the waist of your jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them with ease. Your hands wrestle with his, eagerly tugging both your jeans and panties down your thighs while trying to kick off your shoes. A chuckle rumbles deep in his chest at your eagerness. Gripping your hips tightly, he guides you to lay back onto the mattress where you finish kicking off your shoes and garments. He drags his eyes across your body. The moonlight casts soft shadows across your curves, making him drag his tongue across his lower lip.

“You next,” you pant to him. You needed him like a drug. Against his will, you sat up and eagerly reached for his belt, fumbling with the buckle due to how your hands trembled. He groans as you eagerly tug his jeans and boxers down his thighs; his erection springing free from the confines of his boxers. You move to take him into your mouth, but he stops you with a harsh hand on your throat.

“Oh no, princess. Not this time. Tonight, you're mine. You belong to me.” The words sounded like sinful silk coming from his mouth. You scoot back onto the mattress, heart pounding as he follows right behind you. Beads of sweat rested along the ridge of his brows and his back glistened in the pale moonlight of the room as he drew closer to you. He wraps your legs over the top of his shoulders, dipping his head into the aching heat between your thighs. He slowly drags his tongue through the slick folds of your cunt. You moan heatedly, arching your back slightly at the sensation. He growls into your slick cunt, sending vibrations straight to your core as he drags his tongue through your cunt again, pausing over your clit where he draws tight, deliberate circles over the bundle of nerves.

His fingers dug deep into the fleshy parts of your thighs, his nails leaving tiny crescent shapes that were bound to bruise later. A needy growl falls from his lips as he sucks your clit between his lips, flicking the tip of his tongue against the sensitive bud. Your legs trembled at the sensation, making you desperately grind yourself into the demanding heat of his mouth. He pulls away briefly, only to dive back into the heat between your legs. His tongue plunges into your sopping and trembling cunt; the scruff on his chin adds the friction you desperately needed. Your hands manage to find the crown of his head; your fingers become entangled in his hair, nails scratching at his scalp as you desperately chant his name.

“Mmph–fuck, Lo…don't stop, don't stop…” You chant through desperate, breathy pants. He was edging you closer and closer to your first orgasm. He could feel the way your pussy flexed as you were nearing your first orgasm of the night. He groans at the way you ground your cunt into his mouth. His hand releases your thigh, plunging two fingers deep into your trembling core. His tongue flicks against your clit again, and again, drawing you closer to spilling over the edge. He draws his fingers away, only to plunge them deep into you again in rhythm with the movements of his tongue.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck….Logan, I'm so close…please–” Your eyes roll to the back kf your head as your vision goes white. Your first orgasm hits you like a freight train. Your thighs shake and tremble uncontrollably as you desperately try to push him away from your aching clit, but his grip on your thigh helps to hold you down in place. It felt as though your whole body was lit ablaze while you rode out your first high of the night, gasping for air as he finally pulled away once he's finished lapping you up.

“You're doing so well for me. Look at you, making such a mess for me like a good girl.” He coos while massaging your thighs. The remnants of your orgasm glisten on his chin as he drags his eyes across your body again. “I fucking need you. Crave you. We're just getting started. Don't tell me you're all fucked out already.” He places a tender and chaste kiss to your clit, and then onto your stomach, working a trail up the length of your body until he meets your lips. You eagerly and hungrily kiss him, tasting yourself upon his lips and tongue.

“No. Need you. Please.” You beg against his lips. He rests his weight on one of his forearms, using his other hand to swipe the head of his cock through your still ever weeping cunt. A shaky sigh falls from your lips as his cock slowly fills your still sensitive and overstimulated folds. He pulls out, only to snap his hips against yours, filling you to the brim as he buries his entire length into you up to the hilt. You groan into his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

His lips find yours again, desperate and needy. Your lips part, allowing him more access into your mouth. Your tongue meets his, dancing for dominance through the kiss. He tasted heavenly sinful on your tongue; you could still taste the faint remnants of yourself in his mouth and saliva. He snaps his hips against yours again, grinding his hips against yours. You whimper out out needy moan as he somehow buries himself deeper into your folds. Every thrust of his hips was harsh and deliberate, filling you to the core and splitting you open more.

You break away from the kiss, your lips meeting his jaw with a trail of kisses along his jawline and to his neck and throat. You trail your tongue along the length of his pulse while dragging your nails down his back. He growls almost primitively, snapping his hips once again. The room is filled with the sinful sounds of skin colliding against skin; the sounds mixed into the soft symphony of moans and groans that come from both you and Logan.

“Do it again. Fuck…” He groans against the shell of your ear. Nodding, you rake your nails down his chest this time, your nails leave behind welting scratch marks on his skin. Your back arches up from the mattress as he slips a hand between your bodies; his fingers find your clit, drawing tight circles around the bud, eliciting a high pitched squeal from you. Desperate for more, you wrap your legs around his waist, digging your heels into the back of his thighs. Your toes curl as another coil begins to tighten in your abdomen. His cock throbbed deep within your quivering pussy, his length dragging along your walls made your legs tremble and shake.

“Lo…Oh fuck, I'm so close…” You pant desperately. Your hands rest on his shoulder blades, your nails sinking into his chiseled back. His thrusts stutter slightly, faltering as he grew near the edge. You could feel the way his cock throbbed that he was close to orgasm. “Oh fuck…please, Logan…don't stop, Don't stop…” You chant, burying your face into the hollow of his neck.

“Fuck…you're so tight. Feel so fucking good. Want you to cum on my cock. Cum for me, princess. Fuck…” He groans, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His breath is hot against your skin with every desperate pant that escapes from him. He slips his other arm underneath your back, pulling you close against him as the walls of your pussy tighten and contract around his cock. Your vision blurs to white again as you cry out his name like a sinful prayer. He groans heatedly, his back arching as his orgasm finally hits not too far behind yours, painting the inside of your cunt and cervix white.

His thrusts slow until his hips finally still against yours. He pants raggedly against your shoulder, removing his hand from your abused and overly stimulated clit. He gazes down at you, his expression soft and brows furrowed with concern. The back of his throat burned with emotion as he rests his forehead against yours.

“I didn't hurt you, did I?” He asks softly, his hand gingerly cups your cheek.

You shake your head, placing a tender kiss on his nose. “No. Not at all. I'm so sorry, Logan…for everything. I didn't mean any of what I said…”

“Ssshhh…I know, I know…” He gently pulls you with him as he rolls onto his back with you laying on his chest. His heart pounded rhythmically against your hands. “I'm sorry too…I was a dick. I shouldn't have yelled at you.” His eyes fell on the jagged scar that now claimed the lower left portion of your abdomen. His eyes soften more as his hand gently touches the scar for the first time since you had been released from the infirmary.

“Guess this means we're on talking terms again? No more silent treatment?” You try to tease lightly, which earns a chuckle from Logan.

“Oh,I think we're well past the silent treatment, princess.” He gently pulls you down for another chaste kiss.

[star-suh]

Hardcore

Bang Chan x Male Reader

cw: idol au, dom top chan, pwp, facesitting, deepthroat, hair pulling, marking, spanking, slapping, choking, degradation, fisting, gaping hole, bit of dumbification, jackhammering, mating press, breeding, cum swallowing, hate sex, ripping clothes, cockwarming.

an: 😬 this man makes me go feral sometimes

—

yn was laying in the couch, his head hanging over one side of it. gurgling sounds could be heard in the living room, chan was there fucking the other's mouth “fuck at least that throat of yours can do wonders with my cock. you really know how to milk one hmm?” he slapped yn's cheeks and resumed his pace, forcing the other to deepthroat him. “maybe this is the only way to make you shut the fuck up for once”.

chan an yn were idols, each one from a different group, and they just began to hate each other for an unknown reason. every time they passed each other in the backstage of the music shows or year-end awards shows they looked at each other with anger plastered in their eyes, those glares were like hundreds of daggers stabbing at each other. until finally one day the tension exploded, their companies contacted them to do a collaboration (as a way to put an end to the rumors that the two hate each other's guts) and that's how we ended up here right now, chan banging the other's mouth, pulling his hair to thrust hard and deep.

with some final thrust chan came inside yn's throat clogging it with his thick cum, the other trying to swallow it but ended up spitting some of it “fucking asshole i almost choke–” not wanting to hear his annoying voice chan sat on top of yn, riding his face. chan gets up so that yn can breathe a little and sits on him again, repeating the action a few more times.

yn was stunned, there was so much happening that he doesn't realize when chan rips his shorts and underwear leaving his ass bare, “what the fuck you son of a bitch those were my favorite shorts”, “ask me how many fucks do i give” the other responded.

without warning chan impaled his thick fuckmeat on the tight hole, drawing a guttural moan out of him “you… asshole” tears rolled down his face while he punches chan in his chest “you're breaking me in.. hngh.. half.. you. bastard”..

chan positioned yn in a doggy style with the excuse of not wanting to see his face “this way i won't feel so disgusted” he mentioned. yn didn't pay attention to him since the only thing he focused on was how good chan's cock felt inside him. chan began to spank yn, enjoying the recoil caused by that and how it was slowly taking on a reddish color.

looking for a way to be able to thrust much rougher chan put his hands on the sides of yn's neck and began to choke him, also using it to push yn back so his cock goes deeper. yn's eyes were rolled back, spit coming out of his mouth, sex was clouding his mind and all he wanted now was to cum and get it over with quickly.

the room was now a mess, it reeked of sex and sweat, chan and yn have been fucking for hours. in the mating press position and he squeezed so hard that chan had no choice but to release his load inside the other. “why the fuck do you came inside.. it's disgusting coming from you” yn slapped chan but he didn't seem to like it, so he decided to do some payback, "fine, you son of a bitch, if that's what you want, then i'm going to get all my semen out of you. just don't complain later” suddenly, yn found himself in the jackhammering position. chan was being much rougher than he had been before, his cock never failing to hit that sweet spot. when he emptied his second load inside of yn chan said in a mocking voice “ow.. i'm so sorry yn i came inside you again”, “you did it on purpose you fu-aughng!!” yn cried feeling a sudden stretch, then he realizes chan was fisting him. his fist going in and out smeared with his semen "what do you think now yn? should i continue until there is not a single drop of cum inside?", yn could feel chan's fist making its way into his insides, how the knuckles scratched his prostate deliciously, he could feel every vein in chan's muscular arm "you're going to pay… for this.. augh.." he cried.

after finishing his fisting session, chan stopped to appreciate yn's destroyed hole, how agape it was and how it was clenching into nothing "it's cute how he tries to wink at me" chan joked, “i don't think you're going to be able to walk these days”.

chan folded yn and resume the fucking, but this time the thrusts were sloppier yn could feel that chan was already reaching his peak and that was when he took advantage and started scratching chan's back leaving long red and burning marks as part of his revenge, in addition to biting and twisting his nipples and punching his firm delicious pecs, "let's see how you'll cover those marks, imbecil” yn laughed with the last strength he had...

the next day yn woke up feeling sore down there and feeling a heavy weight on top of him, then chan wakes up too, realizing that they both fell asleep on top of each other with the top's cock still inside yn's ass "get off of me" yn pushes chan and when he tried to sit up he couldn't due to the pain he was feeling "hahaha deserved" chan laughs. suddenly he feels a slap on his back that hurt his wounds making him scream in pain "goddamn it… it hurts a lot”. “deserved" yn murmurs, struggling to stand up to go to the shower.

[nyerus]

The Narrative Importantance of Hualian's Sexual Intimacy

This is a repost and minor edit of a thread I made on Twitter yesterday. This is a topic I have always wanted to talk about because of how often it comes up in TGCF fandom, time and time again.

‼️CW: mentions of sexual assault, self-harm, bodily injury‼️

⚠️Major spoilers for the entire novel ahead⚠️

---

Saw a question the other day on what relevance Hualian being sexually intimate by the end of the novel had to either the narrative or Xie Lian's character arc.

In short: it bears significant relevance, especially in context of other themes the novel explores like bodily autonomy.

Throughout the novel, we see time and time again that Xie Lian is often dehumanized by pretty much everyone—including himself—with the sole exception of Hua Cheng. I've talked more in depth about it in an old twt thread, for those interested. @/stalliondany on twt has also made an excellent recent analysis that goes deeper into the specific ways Xie Lian was used as a physical shield, martyr, or scapegoat for others without thought to his humanity or suffering. I highly recommend reading it first!

But to sum it all up: it's important to Xie Lian's character arc to keep in mind that he is used to seeing his own body as a tool to solve problems. And in crucial narrative moments, he is robbed of his bodily autonomy, and either brutalized or violated in service of others.

One of the plot points that ties together all these concepts is actually... Xie Lian's chastity vows. That will be the main focus of this post.

When he was a young teen (or possibly as a child), Xie Lian took an oath of chastity because such was the norm for cultivators seeking ascension in Xian Le. To Xie Lian, even as he grew older, he never had an issue with this because he just never felt sexual attraction to another person, or any desire to be intimate in that way. Even if he yearned for the concept of being loved. And indeed, at first glance, his chastity vows may seem like nothing more than a side note. Or even a funny gag when it comes to Hua Cheng (later).

In reality Xie Lian's chastity vows are not only used against him, but paint a very disturbing picture with regards to his repeated violation.

The Land of the Tender scene is the most obvious example of this. Xie Lian's vows are directly tied to his spiritual powers, and because it affects how his followers see him. They place a high value on his chastity as being vital to his moral character.

For reference, an excerpt from TGCF vol. 3 of the English print translation, page 135:

Xie Lian's method of cultivation required a pure body. Those who worshipped the ascended cultivators who practiced this path were firmly convinced of the transcendence of gods untouched by earthly desires. If they couldn't protect their purity, their following would no doubt collapse and their powers would be devastated. It wouldn't be as serious as plunging from godhood to back to mortality, and there was still the possibility of recovery after many more years of cultivation—but with things as they were now, there was no time for him to sit behind closed doors and cultivate for years!

As a reminder: it is Bai Wuxiang who orchestrated this whole thing. Him trying to compromise Xie Lian in this way is horrific on many levels, yet that's not the main point I want to make here. It's that to preserve his "pure body," the solution Xie Lian realizes is to severely harm himself. To impale himself with his sword through the abdomen.

The juxtaposition of having to maintain bodily purity versus the gruesome violence inflicted on his body is extremely stark.

This grim contrast is no more evident than in the 100 swords scene. Where Xie Lian's body is literally brutalized and defiled to an unthinkable degree. To the point where he, quote: "no longer looked human." Yet he emerges from that temple physically "pure" all the same. His chastity vows were not broken, his body healed without scars. As though he was untouched.... And yet, he was completely destroyed mentally. It left permanent effects on him as a person. It's even worse when the scene is read analogous to sexual assault, as many have talked about before. I think that interpretation actually hits the nail on the head, especially keeping in mind the Land of the Tender scene and all the similarities between them.

Following the 100 swords scene, Xie Lian of course has a complete disconnect between himself and his body. I believe this is part of why he doesn't really feel pain, except when he is with Hua Cheng, who treats him and his body as one. As a person who is cherished, and loved. Hua Cheng is adamant in his adoring treatment of Xie Lian. Small injuries are also something he cannot tolerate because he knows what horrors befell Xie Lian in the past. (He was present at both the terrible moments mentioned above.) He will not let any of that continue, regardless of what Xie Lian says, because he sees it as injustice.

Xie Lian is willing to use himself as a tool to help others no matter the personal cost. He even thinks of it as something he must do, or that he deserves as penance. But Hua Cheng is the one person who asks "what about you?" He's the one that insists "your happiness matters." And it is Hua Cheng that takes issue with Xie Lian's chastity vows as being unfair, unlike everyone else. Regardless of Hua Cheng's reasons for this diegetically, symbolically it means a lot that he is the one opposed to this.

Just thinking about the chastity vows on their own for a moment: Xie Lian can indulge a little bit in stuff like alcohol, which isn't great to begin with for him. But he absolutely cannot engage in "pleasures of the flesh." He can totally have his flesh ripped from his bones, literally, but actually experiencing any kind of sexual gratification? Now that would make him unclean, and lesser.... Why? Because unlike everything else, that's something Xie Lian would do simply for himself to feel good. And what greater crime is there than to ever dare put himself first?

So Hua Cheng—being the one person who puts Xie Lian first above all else—thinking that such a restriction doesn't make sense is important. Hua Cheng being the person who Xie Lian breaks those vows for in the end is important! (Especially because it seems to have been an easy choice for him.)

And of course, the scene with Jun Wu and the Virginity Detector Sword™ has to be mentioned. Again, there's symbolism to be had! The perpetrator of two of the most physically violating moments of Xie Lian's life (both of which were sexual in nature; one literally and one allegorically) being the one to "check" Xie Lian's virginity... oof. Yikes. It's dramatic irony. It's deeply uncomfortable. Especially because Jun Wu probably wanted to know if Xie Lian slept with Hua Cheng, as he already knew Xie Lian wasn't the ghost fetus' father.

So it's once again a stark juxtaposition: of Ghost King Hua Cheng disagreeing with the purity vows, wanting Xie Lian to break them for himself and his own freedom. Versus Heavenly Emperor Jun Wu wanting to weaponize those vows against Xie Lian in whatever way he can, intact or not, to keep control over him.

Naturally, there's something to be said for the real-world problem with such purity vows being used against people, to judge their moral character, societal expectations, etc. Elephant in the room. It's very on the nose, so there isn't even much to say about it that hasn't been said already.

In the end, it comes down to how horrible it is that when Xie Lian tries to help others, it results in immense harm to his body every time. Yet he is expected to continue to bear it, for centuries, by others and also himself. Until he meets Hua Cheng, who helps him rediscover what it means to be happy, and to be loved. So yes, it's absolutely relevant that in the end, Xie Lian decides to break his purity vows to be intimate with Hua Cheng. That he's able to put himself in Hua Cheng's hands, and let himself be treated with affection and desire. It's Xie Lian finally forgiving himself, and beginning to heal.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Talin w/an Insecure Plus-Sized Reader

There was a request for any of my OCs with an insecure plus sized reader that needed comforting. I ran a poll to determine which OC to do and Talin won. Sorry it took 3 months, I kept getting busy with comms and gardening. But I remembered today and felt good and motivated.  (CW: Oviposition, chubby reader, mentions of sex, general yandere behavior, language barrier with Talin, scorpion man, gender neutral reader) 

-Talin didn't mind you being plump at all. -His species certainly did not have the same beauty standards that humans did. All humans were rather squishy compared to him. -But there was much more to it than that. -For one thing, you couldn't run off as fast, you had this cute habit of running off from him at the slightest opportunity, he knew you just enjoyed exploring your new home and got excited and went off without him sometimes, but he needed to stay near you and keep you safe. -It also made you a much better mate in his eyes, he could stuff significantly more eggs into you than he could a skinnier human. -It would be hard for him with the language barrier to realize you were insecure about your body, but eventually he would put it all together. -Maybe it would be the way you observed yourself in reflective surfaces or the way your face would get melancholic whenever you had to remove your clothing, but he would figure it out eventually. -And once he did there would be no end to how he tried to make you feel better about yourself. -He would worship every single part of your body. -Kissing your tummy. -Rubbing your soft thighs with his strong hands. -Caressing your sides. -And, of course, he would mate with you much MUCH more often once he figured out you didn't feel beautiful! A lot more of your day would be spent impaled on his cock just so that you'd know you were his sexy mate.