#for it to be as hard as it was for me to consider running from a much tamer situation and while I was the healthiest athlete point of mylife

[honey-on-your-tongue]

FWB

Part two Logan Howlett x fem!reader Series masterlist

You and Logan avoid each other for as long as you can. If you know he's in the kitchen or in the simulation room, you will go around the entire mansion just so you don't run into him. If he hears or smells you're in a room he's about to go into, he won't. He'll leave and wait until you go somewhere else.

A few weeks come and go like this. You and Logan don't even look at each other and it's all fine.

Until you go on a mission. There's no avoiding each other now.

It's not even necessary for the two of you to go. Most likely, Storm could handle it on her own. But she needs backup and Scott is too out of it, so you both have to go with her.

You understand Scott. Really, you do. But you kinda wish he'd be in condition to go with Storm and Logan so you wouldn't have to.

That's the only thought that adds bitterness to your day as you get in the jet. And then you see Logan, sitting in his seat, and your mind goes blank.

You remember him, lying in his bed, hard cock in his hand, precum on the tip. You blush at the memory and glance away.

Flustered, you rush to your seat, sit and buckle up and make a point out of staring out the window. You can feel Logan's eyes on you, but you refuse to react at all. Last thing you need is him getting the wrong idea.

But what is the wrong idea? You can't deny that you felt strangely flattered, and also extremely turned on. You'd had to touch yourself that night before you even considered getting any sleep.

You try not to think about it as Storm takes the jet into the air.

The thing is, you and Logan work together and if things go too far, it'll either end real good or real bad.

Most likely, real bad.

You push the idea away and instead try to focus on the mission at hand. You're supposed to find a group of mutants gone astray, wreaking havoc around a small town. Supposedly, their headquarters is in a warehouse, the remnants of an abandoned factor in a long-since forgotten part of the woods. It's in the middle of nowhere.

Storm lands the jet far from where the warehouse is located and glances back at the two of you. “We'll camp here for tonight. We'll move in on them tomorrow morning, the earlier the better,” she says.

You each get to work, setting up your tents, readying your suits, preparing yourself mentally for the coming day.

Night falls. You're in your tent, reading by the light of a flashlight, when you hear something outside. At first, you worry that maybe the trouble-making mutants have found you, but then Logan's head pops in through the flap of your tent.

-

He'd spent hours debating on whether or not to approach you. He knew it would be easier to let the whole thing blow over, but you two wouldn't be able to work if this doesn't get resolved.

So. What better way to resolve things than by sneaking into your tent long after he knows Storm is asleep?

He didn't think it through. He realizes that when he sees the look on your face at his sudden appearance.

“You scared me,” you tell him, huffing softly.

“Sorry,” he mumbles sheepishly as he crawls into the tent, zipping the flaps closed. He sits across from you, awkward both because he's a rather large man in a tent and also because of the situation. “Didn't mean to scare ya. I just...wanted t'talk.”

“Oh,” you say quietly, a soft blush rising on your cheeks. “Yeah. I guess we...we do have to talk.”

He nods. “Okay. I'm...Look. I'm sorry. Really. About...the other night. I didn't mean—It was disrespectful of me. And I definitely didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I really am sorry. And, for what it's worth, I think you're gorgeous, in case that wasn't, y'know, evident.”

You hold his gaze for a moment before laughing softly. “It's okay. It's...Yeah, it's alright. I guess I should've knocked too, I just didn't imagine you'd be...doing...that.” You nod softly, another blush covering your cheeks.

“So we're...good?” he asks softly.

You nod. “We're good.”

He hums, a weight lifted off his shoulders. He glances at his lap before looking up to meet your gaze. He studies your face, your soft lips, your beautiful eyes, the perfect curve of your nose...

He's gawking without realizing it. He only comes to his senses when you laugh and bashfully ask, “What?”

He shakes his head, somewhat embarrassed, and says, “Nothin'. Just...you really are gorgeous.”

You giggle, a soft smile on your lips, and before he can stop himself, he reaches for you, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

You slowly fall silent, your eyes on his.

Logan takes a soft breath. “Let me kiss you, bub. Please, you have no idea how much I need it,” he whispers, his gaze falling to your plump lips.

You open your mouth to refuse, to remind him that you two work together and to tell him that you don’t want things to get weird. Instead, you hear yourself plafully say, “Only if you promise to never tell.”

Logan smirks and before you can proces your own fucking answer, he’s tugging you a little closer. “I promise,” he whispers before his lips crash onto yours.

He kisses you hungrily and demanding, his mind whirling from the taste of you.

He knows it's a bad idea. You know it's a bad idea. But the way he kisses you, the way his hands grab onto your body and tug you closer…

How are you supposed to resist?

He shamelessly shows you he wants you in the way his hands trace your body, the way he's basically panting.

He licks your neck, kisses it softly before sucking to leave a hickey. And you let him. God, you let him. How could you not? He's everything a girl could ever want.

He maneuvers you with ease, laying you down on the thin mattress before crawling on top of you. His fingers trace the skin of your waist, your hip, while his other hand holds him above you.

“This okay?” he asks you as his hand slips inside your pants, rubbing at your cunt through your panties.

You nod, breathing hitching. “Yeah.”

“’f you wanna stop, just lemme know,” he says, his mouth focusing on your neck as his fingers work your pussy until you've soaked through your underwear.

He's grinding his hips against your thigh meanwhile, his cock aching for more.

He pulls away for a moment to pull your pants off, then your panties. His eyes fall on your cunt, all slick with arousal, and his cock twitches.

Your scent is so sweet, so strong. He runs two fingers up through your folds, gathering the wetness before bringing them to his lips. He tastes you on his digits and loses whatever was left of his rational mind.

His head is between your thighs in a second, his mouth devouring your cunt like he's never gonna eat again.

You gasp, back arching, pretty mouth open in ecstasy, and Logan just has to watch.

He groans, his large hands moving your thighs to rest on his shoulders as his tongue slips up to your clit, flicking it a couple of times before replacing it with his nose. His tongue traces your entrance, licking up all your slick arousal.

Your fingers tangle in his hair and you don't pull at first, afraid of hurting him. But the more the pressure builds in your womb, the more you lose awareness of being gentle and pull his head where you want it.

Logan groans as you tug on his hair, his fingers digging into your thighs. He traces your clit with his teeth, relishing in the tremor that washes over you.

Smirking slightly, he does it again and again and again until you're pushing him away, moaning as you come on his mouth.

He helps you down from your high before pulling away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You good, bub?” he questions, hand gently caressing your thigh.

You nod, breathing heavy, body boneless from your orgasm. “’m fine.”

Logan adjusts his hard cock in his pants, his breath hitching at the little bit of friction. He's never wanted it this bad…

He stares at you, all spread out, half-naked, blissed out, and he loses it.

“Lemme fuck ya, bub,” he begs, eyes wild, pupils dilated. “Need to put my cock in that pretty cunt ‘f yours.”

You hold his gaze, cheeks flushed a pretty pink. “Do you have a condom?”

He grins. “You bought some f’r me, remember?”

You giggle softly. “I—Yeah, I did, huh?”

He licks his lower lip. “Does that mean I can fuck ya?”

You nod. “Yes.”

He almost growls in relief, his hands quickly undoing his pants. He tosses them aside, then grabs a condom from the pocket of his jacket. He takes the jacket off as well, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

He rolls the condom onto himself, his cock hard, the tip an angry red as precum drips from it.

He kneels in front of you, grabbing your legs and tugging you closer to him, making you gasp. His eyes darken at the sound and he jerks himself once, twice, before aligning his cock with your sopping entrance.

“You tell me if you want me to stop,” he says firmly.

“Okay,” you reply, breathless.

He holds your gaze for a moment before he thrusts into you, filling your sweet pussy smoothly.

You cry out, gasping, eyes fluttering shut.

He grunts as you clench around him tightly, his eyes rolling back. “Fuuuuuck, bub. Such a good pussy.”

He glances down as he starts thrusting, watching your cunt stretch to fit him. He grabs one of your legs and moves it onto his shoulder, allowing him to go deeper.

You squeal, eyes wide. “Fuck! Fuck!”

He fucks you hard and deep, the sound of skin on skin loud. He's grunting and groaning like an animal, his dog tags clinking with each thrust.

“Look at ya, bub. So pretty. Such a good girl for me,” he says, voice low and rough. “Look at that cunt. She's so greedy, look how she clenches around me.”

You whine, tears of ecstasy in the corners of your eyes. “L-Logan! Logan!” you moan, thighs quaking.

He chuckles. “Such a pretty slut f’r me. You enjoying yourself, bub?”

You whine, eyes rolling into the back of your head. “Logan!” you squeal.

His hand slips between you, thumb finding your clit and rubbing it in messy circles. He laughs lowly when your pussy tightens around him in response.

“Yeah, you're enjoying yourself.” He smirks, proud of himself, and he fucks you harder.

You begin to mumble, blubbering incoherently, unable to form words. You're just a gasping, sobbing, moaning mess and he's loving it.

“Gonna come already?” he mocks. “I just started with ya. Has no one ever fucked you this good?”

You squeal, gasping. All he can make out is a chorus of please please please please please that you repeat over and over again.

Eventually, he caves. “Yeah, alright. Go on, bub, you can come.”

His words are the final straw. Your orgasm hits you with so much force that you're left seeing starts for a minute or two. Your ears are ringing and your body is weak.

Logan wasn't prepared for how gorgeous you looked as you came. The sight of you along with the way you tightened around him sent him over the edge beforehand, making him gasp and grunt as he spills into the condom.

“Fuck,” he gasps, body shaking as he recovers from the climax. He glances down at you, watching you regain your breath.

Slowly, he lowers your leg from his shoulder before pulling out of you gently.

“You alright there?” he asks you, his knuckles rubbing your cheek tenderly.

You manage a weak nod and he smiles. “Can you talk, bub?”

You open your mouth to try and decide you cannot. You shake your head and he chuckles.

“Fucked dumb. ‘m gonna have a lotta fun with ya, bub. A lotta fun.”

---

Taglist

@nerrivm @rosiahills22 @d3vils-adv0c8 @thychuvaluswife @18lkpeters @daddy333 @e-nonsense @ch3rryblossms @ayamenimthiriel @thesecretlifeofmo @simming4sims @raideaters-blog @1cam8 @angelicbbsblog @giuliahowlett @lemonsquaredd @meadow-field @secretpandaconnoisseur @givenoutlaw @wunder-blunder @aredheadednerd @fictionalmen-dilflover @insanesociopath @m1cky-y-y @fictional-hooman

---

Blog masterlist

[luvvyouforever]

i am my father's daughter - declan o'hara x rupert's daughter!reader

synopsis: you knew you shouldn't be doing this, flirting with your dad's friend and business partner. but he's so irresistible!

content: age gap relationship (ages not specified), maud doesn't exist au, not very canon compliant just ignore it, nsfw themes, dbf trope, accidental tense switching (ignore it)

author's note: declan is sooooo hunky #needthat also this is a rather short piece but if you'd like to see a continuation of dbf declan, i would absolutely provide <3

you're quite positive that nobody has looked as good in a t-shirt as declan o'hara does now in the front of the priory's living room, leading an open discussion about what is next for the budding production company. his biceps flex underneath the thin material when he lifts his arm in a gesture and despite your efforts to remain focused on the conversation at hand, it's difficult when all you've been able to think about since he moved in is declan.

for a month or two after he and his two daughters moved in, he had been the sole object of your daydreaming. he was so strong, so intelligent, so witty on the television, so...everything.

however, there was little that you could do on that front, considering the last name that appears on your birth certificate and the fact that rupert campbell-black, your father, and declan hated each other. it was a rather difficult watch, the night declan interviewed him, but with rupert bonding with declan over their love for their small families, it became much easier to slink your way into his presence. thankfully.

then, it became regular to see declan in your home, or to see you and rupert in his. he was hard to depart from, what with his deep, thick accented voice and his wavy hair he kept running his hands through, and that t-shirt, that damn t-shirt. you lived in pure, unending agony for a while, having to be so close to him all the time without being able to give in to this torturous desire.

but then he started blatantly running a large hand over your back as he passed behind you and then he started making eye contact with you across the room and then he helped you with car troubles where he stood tantalizingly close behind you while showing you how to check your oil.

your father doesn't need to know that you've kissed and made out with and sucked off his friend and business partner. right?

when declan finishes his speech in the front of the living room, he makes his way through the crowd to the table in the back with a few drinks and refreshments laid out by taggie where you just so happen to be standing.

his eye contact with you is unwavering as he comes closer and closer to you and there's a smirk growing on his lips.

"could you be any more obvious with your ogling there, dear?" he says quietly once he reaches your side.

you scoff, but you know what he's saying is true. "i wasn't doing anything of the sort, mr o'hara. i'm just admiring your leadership and passion for venturer, is all," you whisper.

he leans against the table, then, watching as the crowd before him mingle with each other, completely oblivious to the conversation happening between you and him. even your father seems to be swept up into conversation on the other side of the room. he turns his neck side-to-side, clearly aware of the way that his shoulders and back tense underneath the tight shirt. your eyes betray your previous statement as they immediately flick to the sight, then flick downwards.

he chuckles and takes the smallest of steps closer to you. "so you like the shirt, then, i take it?"

a small blush overtakes your cheeks and you refuse to meet his eye. suddenly, you feel his body tilt towards yours, lips just before your ear.

"i can let you take it off me if you come over tonight."

his deep voice reverberated through your body, sending chills down your neck and spine. subconsciously, your back arched from the table you were learning on and he let out another laugh.

a few hours later, you found yourself slipping quietly out of penscombe, positively giddy. the walk to the priory was one you had done plenty of times and you knew it like the back of your hand, really. slowly, the centuries old building came into view and several feet up the wall was a window with its lights still on. declan's.

as he'd done before, he met you at the back door of the home, one that leads into the kitchen, a smug look on his face.

"you took my offer quite readily," he said. his big frame leaned against the door and he crossed his arms. still adorning him was that damn t-shirt.

"as if you weren't kicking your feet waiting for me," you retort, then come to stand before him.

he shakes his head then and a sly smile tilts the corners of his mouth up. he removes his body from the frame and steps to the side to let you inside. as you pass him, a firm hand comes down on your ass, making a small yelp escape your lips.

you turn suddenly and shoot him a glare. he just pats you again, a gesture to keep you moving forward. "get on up there, little minx. before your daddy realizes where you've gone, huh?"

you turn then and head for the stairs that lead up to his bedroom. declan didn't have to tell you much twice.

[revelboo]

I love your writing and I love that you’re having fun with it even more! It baffles me how good you are with coming up with different dynamics for each of your storylines and they all work so well. My favorite has to be tfp megs. Maybe it’s a guilty pleasure but something about the fake hating or the taboo codependency really scratches a specific itch on my brain.

I know it’s a very satisfying dynamic to write. This one is a bit earlier than I’d planned, but I wanted to get it down while it was in my head.

And you guys crack me up sometimes. I’ve seen one of y’all call Optimus ‘Pee Paw’ in reblog tags and now TFP Megs is ‘Space Crack Grandpa.’

Broken Arrow Pt 9

TFP Megatron x Reader

• You’re frozen against him, body arching into his where his denta are gripping you. He’s shocked you so badly you don’t know how to respond apparently. There’s a faint unease at your stillness, that maybe he finally pushed a bit too hard. It’s only when he bites just a tiny bit harder that you snap out of it and smack a palm against the side of his helm. “Get off, you jerk. Who bites someone?” And there’s the anger he enjoys so much. Laughing again as you try to shove his head away and he lets you, aware of your soft, warm hands gripping his helm, your face red and furious.

• And he’s laughing again, so messed up he finds your frustration hilarious as you keep your grip on his helm to keep him from trying to bite you again. That bare prick of his denta on you had broken through the shock of the not entirely unpleasant feel of that bite. “You shouldn’t do that crap,” you mutter, trying to maintain that frustrated anger, but worry creeping in to your tone. “At this rate, the Autobots won’t have to do anything. You’re so messed up, you’ll probably fall out of the ship and do it for them.”

• Those hands are unbelievably soft on him, fingers gripping his helm to try and keep his face out of biting range as you scowl up at him. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about me,” he asks, grinning as he catches one of your wrists and feels you immediately try to tug loose as he considers nipping those little fingers. Wanting to just because he can, just to feel you shudder against him again.

• Trying to get your hand back, you plant the other one in the center of his chest. “Don’t flatter yourself,”you mutter. “I’d shove you myself if I could.” He’s not letting go, but there’s a new, calculating gleam in his optics that makes your skin prickle all over. Because on that stuff? There’s no telling where his processor just went or what he might do. Like rasp the claws of his other hand down his chest, those armor panels shifting to reveal something pulsing with light, something alive that pulls at you and you realize it’s his bare spark. ‘That’s how you end a Cybertronian,’ his words come back to you and you suddenly want loose. Want him to close those panels up, because seeing this is uncomfortably intimate. “Cut it out.”

• “Don’t tell me you’ve had a change of heart, pet?” Servos tightening on your wrist to force your hand closer to his spark, you suck in a sharp breath and try to lean away, eyes widening in alarm. “Don’t you still want to end me?” Knows he should stop, let go. Because you’re not playing along, there’s something very much like real panic in your eyes as you struggle against him, then shudder violently when his spark reacts. Reaching out a tendril of energy to meet your shaking fingers and now he’s frozen.

• Warmth spins through you at that contact, you can feel him as those tendrils of spark energy curl about your fingers. And you’re not fighting to get away anymore, you’re surrendering to that feeling of falling into him like plunging into deep, still waters that are churning violently just under the surface. Fractured sensations and memories spin you about, too chaotic and alive for you make any sense of. Just knowing that this is him, all of him. Drowning in him, feeling your heart struggling, missing beats. Hurting.

• That contact runs electric through him until he’s jerking you closer to strengthen it without even thinking. He’d only meant to make you angry, to provoke you, but as awareness washes over him in a warm fall like summer rain, he’s suddenly painfully sober. You’re only a human, but he can sense something there that’s not a spark, but close. Something even more achingly fragile than you are as your head falls forward against his shoulder and he can’t move even though he needs to break that contact, shove you away to save himself. You’re just a sparkless organic. And what he feels isn’t a spark, but something that might as well be one entangling with him, slipping soft as a sigh through him as his servos tighten against you. Realizing just how bad a mistake he’d just made.

Previous

[sugar--brown]

Aw... sorry! Don't worry as the self-proclaimed queen of fluff, my focus is more on "how do I fix my blorbos?"

So! Imagine...

Nastya is floating into space aimlessly, alternating between hazy consciouness and death. She is just cold all the time now, space is pretty lifeless and lonely in comparaison of her family. Especially without her coat. She hasn't had a clear thought in years... or is it centuries?

Until she crashes on the windshield of a ship. Like a cute little space starfish. But not on any ship. On Silvana! Where Carmilla is currently the captain.

Turns out, Carmilla has found the little piece of metal with the numbers the cyberians had engraved on Aurora. She would never forget them. Ever. And of course, she was worried for her little moonshine!

So, when Carmilla had detected Nastya (don't ask how), she came to pick her up. What happened? Had she been airlocked? That was unusual, usually it was Toy Soldier who was the target...

It's hard to have answers from a popsicle Nastya, so Carmilla puts her daughter on bed rest until she is better. With lots of fluffy blankets and her favourite space hot chocolates.

But of course, Nastya is not going to be better. The moment her thoughts are clear enough, she shuts down. Because her life is over. Her Aurora is dead, she abandonned her family and band, her planet doesn't exist anymore, her relationship with her mom is rocky... what could she looks forward to?

After lot of soft persuasion, treats, and soothing songs, Carmilla is able to convince Nastya to at least explain what is going on in her head.

Nastya doesn't say "I'm scared of changes and organic beings in general because the first time I came in contact with them it traumatized me, so I snapped when the last bit of her homeplanet disappeared" because she is not aware that this is the problem. Instead she says to Carmilla the same thing she said to Jonny before shutting down again.

Carmilla is distressed to hear that, a love so pure and wonderful which lasted for milleniums couldn't shatter like this! Especially not between Aurora and Nastya. So, she goes to speak to Aurora. Nastya refusing to leave the Silvana.

Carmilla talks woth her oldest, in a way she never did before. It's raw, it's hard, but it's geniune. Carmilla talks about how Nastya still considers herself as cyberian, how herself had been negligent of the mechs' mental healths, how her relationship with Loreli went... Aurora also talks, which became small miracles lately. She talks about how she feels like Nastya loved her only because she had been abused and not because of who she was. She talks how hurt to realize that Nastya only saw her as a machine. She talks how she will never act as an organic being because it is wrong of her.

And oh boy! Carmilla and Aurora have a lot to talk about.

Meanwhile, Nastya is still in bed aboard Silvana. Refusing to move a finger. Which doesn't please Silvana.

Silvana is not everyone. They (let's use they as their pronouns) are a sentient ship just like Aurora, or maybe not in details but close enough! And they are offended about how Nastya talked about Aurora. They have a conscious! They are not an object that you can change entierly by switching pannels and bolts! How dare this little princess to imply it's the case! Silvana was expecting more than that when she listen Carmilla's tales about The Mechanisms.

Silvana is less soft and accomadating than Carmilla. They are not a mom. They are a spaceship able to travel between dimensions! So, she forces Nastya to talk.

And when Nastya finally snaps and says what she has buried deep down... She breaks down. She screams, she cries, she destroys things... she is messy. In a way she never really had been. Just like any organic beings. Or at least any immortal organic beings.

Silvana is surprisingly great at helping realised that Aurora is still Aurora even if she changes. Just like Nastya isn't the same than years ago. That running away is just hurting herself. And the love of her life.

I will not pretend that everything is perfect right away. And certainly not that everything goes back to how it was.

But, gradually and with a lot of errors, Nastya and Aurora reconnects. It took a stupidly long time! But they have the eternity to fall in love again. In a new way. A more geniune one. It feels like a new relationship, one based on the love they have for the real person their partner is, not what they represent.

It's slow, painful, and ridiculously messy, but they succeed. Nastya went In.

Just in time for a certain Pilchard to put a computer virus in Aurora, making Nastya succomb to it just the way she would have when she had this unique connexion to her love back in the days.

It's no wonder Out happened when you really think about it. Nastya doesn't like organic life because it's complicated, it can break, sometimes it's even unfixable.

quote from gender rebels

Nastya is in love with Aurora, and in saying that she is saying "you are not organic life, I can deal with you because you are metal and algorithm and predictable" - we can see this in bedtime story when she says she'll tweak Aurora's story creation algorithm

screenshot from A Bedtime Story

Aurora is not inorganic. She is not ai. She is a space moon made of flesh and blood and teeth and bone. She is not an ai. She is a body that was taken and stripped of autonomy, of the right to self identify, of the right to think- to be imperfect and organic.

The metal is a veneer that hides how messy and traumatized and unfixable she is. From the outside she is a starship. From the inside she can still bleed.

And this makes them fundamentally incompatible. But yet, they are in love.

And really, it's no wonder Nastya fell in love with Aurora. Let's take a look at Nastya's home planet, or at least home society:

"Terminals were scattered across the planet. There was one on every street corner, one beneath every lamppost and one in every commune block." "The midwife-machine performs a series of programmed manœuvres to quieten [the baby]. It cradles it and hums at several pitches until it finds one that seems most soothing. Mechanical arms stroke the baby’s flesh even as others start the process of implanting augmented reality interfaces into its nervous system." "The Czar an atrophied frame, never present in the real world and worn to dust by the chemical compounds that kept his brain alive so it could live forever in a perfect virtual paradise. The Rabotnik a copy, a mind preserved unchanging in the instant before its death and placed in an everlasting metal frame." (Cyberian Demons)

Its safe to say the world Nastya was born into, from the very minute she was born, was ridden with technology. She has augmented reality interfaces inplanted into her from birth. It would stand to reason that being taken from this society, wherein technology is everywhere, inside and out, would stand for a bit of a shock.

Aurora too had been augmented by the Cyberia.

While it is stated that the last time Nastya had used the ports themselves was directly before her death — "The last time she had used the ports, her tutor had ripped them out of her as the rebels stormed the palace" — Aurora is laced with Cyberian technology. I'd imagine she has something of a 'bluetooth wireless connection' with Aurora, rather than the physical data transfer of files between the ports and Nastya, it may as well be similar enough.

Imagine being Nastya, going from Cyberia, wherein there is augmented reality contantly, transplanted onto a ship with metal blood, a jonny, and a vampire. To Aurora, where the only bits of augmented reality run through Aurora.

Of course she'd fall in love with her. Aurora is familiarity. Aurora isn't organic. Aurora isn't human.

And of course when the undeniable part of aurora that is organic, that is a flesh moon plated in metal with her brain hooked to machines, when so much has broken and been replaced, when, presumably, aurora is less of an algorithm, nastya leaves with the brand cyberia left on her.

Because Aurora healing, becoming more of herself and less of a starship, is messy, and organic, and human.

and hard for nastya.

‘Think how long she’s been flying you around. Think how many bullet holes you’ve punched through her and how many atmospheres you’ve dropped her through. Think how many alterations and improvements we’ve made, Tim to her guns and Ashes to her storage and Brian to her engines and the Toy Soldier to who knows what. How much do you think is left of her after all she’s brought you through?’ Nastya held up the ancient, battered piece of hull plating. Just visible under the grime and scars of particles of space junk was a fragment of the Aurora’s original logo and serial number. Jonny honestly couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a version that hadn’t been painted by the Mechanisms themselves. ‘So she’s free, now.’ Nastya gestured around at the spaceship they were standing in. ‘This Aurora can take you where you want to go. I’m going to take my Aurora somewhere else.’

Aurora was ship of theseus'd. Aurora was improved. Aurora was no longer cyberian. (both literally, and metaphorically)

So nastya left.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Teaching Him A Lesson (Lucifer x Reader) (Cucked Alastor x reader)

CW: Drunk sex, Dub con due to drinking, cream pie, breakup rebound sex, noncon cucking, fem receiving oral, bondage for Alastor Rated: Adult Summary: After being dumped by Alastor, you soothe your heart at the hotel bar. Lucifer is more than willing to listen to your sorrows and even indulge you when you take Angel Dust's advice of fucking your way over Alastor. Unfortunately, when Alastor sees you slip into your room with someone else, he regrets his choice and Lucifer decides to teach him a lesson.

AN: We finished it! It's a week and a half late but we fuckin finished it!! Thank you everyone who's cheered me on as I've explored characters, pairings, kinks and situations I would otherwise never have written and stay tuned for what @redvexillum and I have planned for December!

Lucifer prided himself on being the bigger man, even when he wasn’t. He was weak to temptation, in reality, though he wasn’t fond of admitting it. That’s how he became the king of Hell, banished from his heavenly home for daring to think he knew better than his divine father. 

It was that same weakness to temptation that had him following you through the halls, hand tucked into his after spending a few hours and too many drinks listening to your sorrows at the hotel bar. Your hair moved with your eager pace, tear-stained face smiling back at him as you pulled him along. 

This wasn’t right. Lucifer knew that, but he had always had a soft spot for you and oh, you were so eager. 

Your heart lay shattered in your chest. What did you expect, falling for the Radio Demon? The two of you had given it a good run, all things considered. That was more than most people could ever dare to hope to get with him. For a short year, you had stood by his side and, oh, how you had loved it. 

You thought he loved you. 

That’s why it had come as such a surprise when he had sat you down and told you he was done, that it was over this morning. You were a distraction. The benefits you brought to his life weren’t worth the weakness you created. He didn’t want you anymore. 

Cast aside. 

It hurt and you begged. It did no good, though. 

Angel Dust was sure what you needed to move on was a good fuck. Maybe he was right? Probably not, it had only been a few hours, but the more drinks you had, the better of an idea it sounded. 

Who better than the King of Hell to fuck away the memory of Alastor’s touch? Lucifer had been so kind too, listening to you ramble and cry. He didn’t get on well with your ex, but that didn’t seem to impact his kindness at all. 

“This is my old room,” you said, stopping in front of a door you hadn’t opened in six months. 

“Are you going to open it?” Lucifer asked, hand still held in yours. “If you’ve changed your mind, that’s-” 

“Are you going to kiss me?” You asked, reaching behind you and turning the knob, letting the door click open. 

Red eyes shrouded in shadows watched from the end of the hall as Lucifer enveloped you in his arms. Anger rolled through the static that surrounded him as he watched your body melt in the King’s, lips moving against his. 

Until this morning, you had allowed Alastor to hold you like that. Until this morning, you allowed Alastor to slip his tongue between your parted lips, drinking up the sweet sounds of your pleasure.

Alastor had been at peace with his decision when you ran from your shared bedroom this morning. He had been at peace with it as he watched you drink your sorrows away. There was hardly more than a twinge of jealousy as you sat with Lucifer at the bar. 

But now, as Lucifer walked you into what had been your bedroom. 

Warm lips moved against yours, soft and longing as Lucifer’s kiss stole your breath away. Your mind swam, wrapped up in the idea of him and floating on a sea of apple-flavored drinks. 

His arms wrapped around you as he walked you into the room you had thought you would never be in again. His body was hard against yours as he struggled between wanting to hold you and let his coat fall down to the ground, urged off his shoulders by your hands. 

Nimble fingers worked at the buttons of his vest, working it open one button at a time as he kissed your neck. Soft sweet words were whispered, unclear and unable to be made out as they mixed into one soft sound spoken against your neck. 

Lucifer pulled your shirt up and over your head, tossing it to the side as you worked through the buttons of his shirt. His hands replaced yours, yanking at the fabric. Buttons went flying, ripped from the stitching. 

Hot skin was against skin in a matter of moments. Lucifer’s warm chest pressed into you. The warm skin of his chest pressed your breasts flat. There was an eagerness to feel you that you hadn’t realized you missed. 

When had Alastor last held you like this? Kissed you like this? It wasn’t that intimacy was lacking with him; it was just that he was sparing with it. There was a passion and need to Lucifer’s hands, unclasping your bra and sending it flying off into the room that you had missed. 

It felt good to feel wanted. It made you feel powerful to have a man wanting you, eager for you. There was no taking your time. He wasn’t taking his time with you. The way Lucifer’s hands moved over your curves, it felt like he would die if he couldn’t take in the feeling of your skin enough. 

“I want you,” Lucifer said, lips working over the swell of your breast as the backs of your knees hit the bed you hadn’t slept in in months. 

“I need you,” you moaned as Lucifer worked the fly of your pants open, sinking to his knees as he worked the pants down your legs. 

It was fine, Alastor told himself as the door clicked closed. This was what he had wanted, you to no longer be a distraction. Yet as he paced the hall, Alastor had found himself to be even more distracted. 

You were not supposed to move on so quick. He devastated you this morning. You shouldn’t have been taking another man to your bed the same night. There was something wrong. 

Lucifer had to be influencing you. 

Alastor needed to stop this. You belonged to him. 

“Troublesome woman,” Alastor said, walking to the door. The shadow moving along the wall next to him wore a bitter frown, anger clear in the spikes of his hair and clothes over the situation you had put them in. 

Lucifer knelt in front of your knees as you lounged back on the bed, hands supporting your weight as you lifted your hips for him. He peeled your soaked panties from your core as the door to your room opened. 

“Get away from her!” Alastor stormed into the room as if it was his. 

“Alastor!” You sat up, arms crossing to cover yourself. “Get out of here.” 

“You belong to me,” His voice rose as Alastor stepped closer, “Stop this nonsense and we’ll talk.” 

“She doesn’t,” Lucifer said, still kneeling with his cock straining against the front of his pants. “You left her.” 

“Leave, Alastor.” Your voice was thick with emotion, anger and sadness fighting for dominance. 

“You do not need a half sized king to satisfy you,” Alastor continued telling you what to do, what you needed. 

“Please,” you whimpered. 

“Angel, look at me?” Your eyes flickered down to Lucifer, thumbs rubbing soothing circlers of comfort on your thighs. “Do you want this still?” 

“I do,” you sounded less sure than he would have liked but that’s alright, Lucifer would work with it. 

“Then ignore him, pay attention to me.” Lucifer ignored Alastor, who was putting off waves of radio static behind him. 

“Get your hands off her,” Alastor snarled as your panties went lower and lower down your legs. He couldn’t see the core that rightfully belonged to him. Lucifer’s body was blocking his view. “I will rip you limb from fucking limb.” 

“I’d like to see you try,” Lucifer said, licking his lips as he leaned in, kissing your thighs as he spread your legs wider. “Shall we help Alastor learn his place?” 

“What do you mean?” You trembled, struggling to hold your arms over your chest and not fall back as Lucifer’s tongue made a quick pass up your spread folds. 

“I mean, let me show him how powerless he is.” Lucifer placed a soft kiss on your clit. “Let me show him how well I can satisfy you.” 

“Oh,” your eyes flicked to Alastor, standing frozen in place with his smile straining. 

“Look at me.” Lucifer’s lips moved against your clit as he spoke. “Pay attention to me. Don’t worry about him.” 

Between the drinks still humming through your bloodstream and the allure of Lucifer, you failed to see the shimmering of golden chains wrapping around Alastor and rooting him in place. The way Lucifer wrapped his lips around your clit distracting you from Alastor’s struggles against the chains, or the way his voice seemed to be muffled by the air. 

“Oh, my.” Your back arched, arms falling from your breasts as the wet muscle of Lucifer’s tongue worked into you. 

He wasted no time in playing your body like an instrument. Fingers pressed inside your weeping core, sinking deeper and deeper as he pulled waves of pleasure from you. Lucifer was skilled with both his tongue and his hands, driving you closer to the edge with little effort at all. 

Your breasts were shamelessly on display as you gasped for air. Alastor pulled against the chains, bitter threats failing to travel far in the thick air of the room. He watched as your breasts rose and fell with each gasping breath. 

He watched as your body grew tighter and tighter. He knew your body like the back of his hand. You were close. 

Alastor had no choice but to watch as your first orgasm washed over you. Each moan was music to his ears, but he should have been the musician. 

Lucifer drank you your slick, eagerly taking in everything you had to offer as your body wracked through the waves of pleasure. Only once you stilled did he rise, tongue running over his lips as he freed his cock. 

You were spread out, shameless now as Lucifer looked over his shoulder. He made bold eye contact with the man restrained in the back of the room. The positioning wasn’t the best, he decided. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Alastor snapped as chains pulled him around the room, letting him see the couple from the side. 

“Making sure you have the best seat in the house,” Lucifer said, stroking his cock as your eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice. If he waited much longer, the drinks and soft afterglow of your orgasm would have you asleep before he had really taught Alastor a lesson. 

“Stop me if you can,” he said, chuckling as he turned his attention back to you. “Ready baby?” 

“Please,” you spread your thighs for him, showing him your needy core and begging him to fill it. 

“Let’s show him how it’s done.” Lucifer pulled you to the edge of the bed by your thighs. Your ass hung slightly over now, supported by his clawed hands. The soft head of his cock lined up with your opening.

Alastor couldn’t look away as the King of Hell sank his cock slowly into the woman he realized he loved. You were so hurt that you’d let Lucifer use you for his petty game just to hurt him back. 

Chains dug into his body as he thrashed and fought, struggling for even a centimeter of progress toward the man he wanted to rip apart. He would bath himself and you in the man’s golden blood, then remind you who you really belonged to. 

“I just need to,” each word was a struggle to grind out against the tightening hold of the chains, “Get free.” 

He couldn’t. There was nothing Alastor could do against the power of Lucifer himself. All he could do was watch as another man’s cock slowly pushed inside the body that belonged to him. 

Alastor stilled, watching as your mouth fell open as the king filled you. Your fingers bunched into the bedding, dust floating up from where the fabric pulled. 

Lucifer pushed into you until his body nestled tightly against you. Each aftershock of your orgasm caressed his straining cock, urging him to hurry. For a moment, he simply bathed in the feeling of being inside a beautiful partner once again, after so many years without his wife. 

Ex wife. 

“Pay attention now,” Lucifer said, pulling out from you only to slide back into place. “And I’ll show you how it’s done.” 

Your body rocked with each thrust into you. Your breasts bounced and moved, nipples putting on a dance for just the three of you as he worked into you. The pace was slow and steady, giving and taking pleasure with each lazy thrust. 

“More,” you begged, reaching out for Lucifer. Fingers wrapped around his wrists as you struggled to meet his thrusts in the position. “Harder,” 

“Already?” Lucifer asked, chucking at the needy whine. “You’re so responsive and he sent you away?” 

“Please,” you begged, “Please, just fuck me.” 

“He really is missing out,” Lucifer said, pulling from your body. The cold air rushed around his wet cock as he motioned for you to roll over. “Hands and knees.” 

Alastor protested, voice a muffled buzz in your ears as the man you had loved for the last year was pulled in front of you. Your eyes ran up his red clad body, taking in the way his cock strained against his pants. 

The bed shifted as Lucifer climbed up on it, positioning himself behind you. You looked into Alastor’s eyes as Lucifer’s cock sank into you. 

The pace was as you had begged for, harder and faster. He gave you more and more, high moans falling from your lips serving to encourage him.

“Good girl,” Lucifer said, pulling your torso up to rest against his chest. The long, whip-like tail that extended out behind the devil wrapped around your thighs. The spade tip caressed your clit as he continued to thrust up into you. 

Alastor’s hand fell to his crotch, palm absently caressing the bulge even as he spewed words of anger. 

Lucifer palmed your breast as his horns extended up. Red and yellow eyes inverted, burning over your shoulder as he gave you the harsh fucking you had been begging for. 

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as he pushed you closer and closer to your finish. The coil within you was quickly winding, tightening as the breath was knocked from your lungs with every brutal thrust in a moan that made him want to hear it again and again. 

You screamed as you came, the spade of your lover’s tail slapping your clit softly as you shook in his arms. The men in the room with you would never agree on if the name you screamed was the correct one, but that didn’t matter to you now. All that mattered was the way Lucifer’s cock felt pushing through your quivering walls.

As your body grew weak, he let you fall to the bed. Folding himself over you, Lucifer pounded into you as he chased his own release. It didn’t take long at all for him to shoot hot ropes of semen into you, painting your twitching walls with everything he had. The throbbing feeling of his release had you moaning again, slitted eyes on Alastor while you rode the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

You hated him. 

You loved him. 

Tears ran from your cheeks as the King of Hell’s cock twitched inside you, shooting the last spurts of his seed against your cervix. You struggled to breathe as a sea of emotions crashed over the shores of your heart. 

Your spent body sank into the mattress as Lucifer carefully lowered your hips down. The alcohol and post orgasmic bliss called to you, telling you stories of how you could deal with the aftermath of your actions in the morning. 

It would all be easier in the morning. It would all make sense in the morning. 

In the morning. 

You slipped off to sleep, Lucifer’s hand still on your hip as darkness claimed your relaxed mind. 

Lucifer walked, cock still in the process of softening and standing in front of him, to get a warm towel to run over sore skin. He had to compromise the quality of his clean up in favor of not waking you. 

Alastor screamed, voice unable to reach your ears as Lucifer scooped you up in his arms and nestled you into the bed. It was the wrong bed. You shouldn’t be sleeping in this bed. 

With a snap, the King was dressed again.

“Come along,” Lucifer said, pulling Alastor out of the room and down the hall by chains. 

“I will make you pay for this,” Alastor roared, voice hardly carrying down the dark hall. The surrounding chains slacked, but still prevented him from moving freely. 

“I won’t,” Lucifer said easily, eyes making a point of running down Alastor’s body, taking in the dark patch blooming at the end of the bulge in his lap. “But I do hope you’ve learned your lesson.” 

“Who are you to teach me-” Lucifer cut him off.

“Do not throw away people who love you,” Lucifer spoke simply, voice thick with emotion as he caught sight of the wedding ring he still wore on his finger. “And don’t put the people you love last. You never know when they’ll walk away and not come back.” 

“You know this from experience, your highness?” Alastor’s tone was mocking, a shallow attempt to make up for his lack of ability to generate volume at the moment. 

“I do,” Lucifer said simply. “Maybe you can fix things with her in the morning, if you want to. If you don’t, let her go.” 

Alastor stood, frozen in place even as the chains around him disappeared, watching Lucifer walk down the hall. His shadow split from him as he turned toward his door. As he entered his room, the part of him that expressed emotion far easier entered your room. 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

[naamahdarling]

hi, i just wanted to let you know that what you said about "They're saying they don't believe they can cause harm." in your response about the sex ed comic and medical trauma helped me start putting into words some thoughts i'd really been struggling with. it's a hard thought for me to sit with, that believing myself to be harmless is actually a high risk vector for me committing harm, but being able to pinpoint the problem means i can work on de-internalizing the idea and hopefully make me less likely to do harm in the long run. thank you for writing and sharing your experiences, it means a lot to me.

Thank you! I'm very angry about the entire thing and was concerned I probably should not have gone off. Again.

But yes, I actually think this is a thing everyone should sit with. That meaning well doesn't mean you can't hurt someone. In our daily jobs, in our relationships, in our activism.

Of course we can mean well and still hurt people. No, it doesn't mean we should drive ourselves into an anxious spiral trying to analyze every single thing we do from all angles to achieve the perfectly ideal state of doing no harm, but it does mean we need to be very aware of the vulnerability (sometimes by nature, sometimes temporarily) of those around us. Especially when we are in a position of power.

I think that medical professionals especially tend to forget that they are in a position of disproportionate power and that very small and simple things they consider normal may well be objectionable or even harmful to a patient.

I have a good team, mostly. It is very obvious they're just humans doing their best at their jobs and I like them. But they have a LOT more control over my life than they realize, or than I would prefer to give. Or if they realize, they don't know how threatening it feels. My GP is just a little guy with college debt. He could still fuck up my life in about fifteen seconds by refusing to refill a scrip or refer me to a specialist.

And I think all of us have the potential to be that person sometimes. Bears thinking about.

[pinkaditty]

Who's Passing NNN? Tokyo Debunker Pt 5

hey man. the world keeps turning and i keep waking up. im grateful!

a/n: sorry i didn't update this series all weekend i mysteriously got sick with nausea and terrible headaches so i stayed away from my laptop most of the time. also please join me in prayer for an election recount. amen! anyways. enjoy haku and the others jacking it! quick disclaimer that i write these under the assumption the tokyo debunker boys are at least 18 years old. they appear to be present at a university considering there are professors and a chancellor. not to mention the boys drink, smoke, gamble, and refer to themselves as adults.

summary: pt 5 of the "Who's Passing NNN?" Tokyo Debunker series. i am genuinely surprised y'all like these but hey! i enjoy writing them which makes it so much better!

cw: men pulling their dicks out to rub them!!!!!! MINORS DNI AS PER USUAL!!!!!!!!!!!! again... not proofread.

Frostheim || Vagastrom || Jabberwock || Sinostra || Hotarubi || Obscuary || Mortkranken

(obscuary next... halfway through with them. enjoy!)

Hotarubi: 

Subaru Kagami: Pass

Honestly struggled with him a little bit because of how funny it would be if he failed and writing him in a situation where he had to hold it together, but then I realized I already did that (see “He Knows”). I love tormenting submissive men but I’m gonna give him a lil break. 

He’s hard as a rock. His cock harshly presses into his pants, seeking friction and begging to be set free. Subaru, however, remains the picture of elegance - if you ignore his flushed cheeks and trembling silhouette. He was sitting alone in the hidden Hotarubi cabin, waiting to meet Haku later. He held a hot cup of tea in front of him, trying not to spill it as he slowly lifts it to his lips. He manages to gently sip at it, his fingers slipping just slightly and spilling just a little over the edges. The tea slides from his lips, past his chin, and down his neck, lightly staining the collar of his shirt. He sighs in frustration and hooks a finger over his collar, pulling it away from the tea. He only just now realizes how warm he felt, the exposure of his heated skin to cooler air giving him goosebumps. He suppresses a gasp at the feeling and readjusts his collar, placing his tea down with his other hand. Now that he was aware of the heat, it wouldn’t leave him alone. It seemed to flood his body from head to toe - flushed cheeks and neck, his body tense with heat and arousal, his blood flowing to his shameful erection. 

He wondered if he should cancel on Haku, and nearly immediately regrets the thought. That would potentially make things inconvenient for him, and he didn’t want that… But he also knew he wouldn’t be much for conversation like this. Not to mention it would be absolutely mortifying if Haku saw right through him. Subaru sighs, though it sounds more like a pleasured groan. This was a terrible predicament.

He gets a notification on his phone. Something from Wickchat. With trembling hands, he opens the message. It’s from Haku. He’s running late. 

Subaru sighs. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get through the next half hour waiting for Haku like this. Technically, he could take care of it, here… There was no one around, the rain would muffle any noise, and it’s not like this cabin is clearly visible through the trees. He whips his head around the empty cabin, as though someone would be hiding in the corners. His flush grows deeper at the thought of doing this somewhere other than his dorm, but he can’t deny the way his cock jumps at the thought of getting away with it. With his lips pressed into a thin, trembling line - he reaches for his pants, squeezing himself through the fabric. He whines, the sound more needy than intended. He slaps a hand to his mouth, going silent for a moment, his eyes darting to the windows of the small space. When he decides he’s safe, he does it again -- squeezing himself gently, trying to relieve some pressure. It isn’t long before he’s gently rubbing his palm against his tip, teasing himself. He keeps his hand clasped tight to his mouth, muffled moans and whimpers slipping through. He gently teases the head, slowly dragging his fingers up and down his shaft. He rubs his thighs together and leans forward, realizing his peak is rapidly approaching. He rips his hand from his mouth and swiftly grabs a handkerchief, pointing his cock at that as he finally bursts, a strangled moan lifting from his throat and his cum spurting onto the thin fabric. He shivers, staring at the mess, wondering if brewing another cup of tea would get the scent of his arousal out of the air. 

Haku Kusanagi: Fail

Come on. Let’s be for real. He did not try. Caught wind of the bet between Romeo and Rui and just laughed. He is not passing this shit, and he knows it. As much as I would love to write Haku getting off… I’ll make him suffer one more time.

Haku shivers, the air just a tad bit chilly on the galaxy express. Usually, these rides were quick, but unfortunately, his mission had been quite a ways away. He could expect to be here for a while. He chews on his thumbnail, tapping his foot as though to speed up time. He drums his fingers on the plush seat next to him, doing anything to distract himself and pass the time. He was good at hiding his arousal, typically, and that hadn’t changed today. But, for whatever reason, every single sensation felt more potent today. The chill of the air on his face, the slide of his shirt and collar along his chest and neck, the rush of warmth following every twitch of his impatient length - it all felt the same. Stimulating. He found himself having to blink multiple times or gently shake his head to prevent himself from getting lost in sensation after sensation. 

He sighs and leans his head back, listening intently to the gentle thrum of the hearth of the train as it smoothly coasted through the unseen anomalous pockets of space. He was glad this train didn’t rumble or thump, because if it did, it would’ve caused him more than enough friction to lose himself far quicker. 

He shifts his gaze to his half-hard cock as it continues to rise insistently. He groans inwardly, his expression twisting into a displeased look. Heat flushes through him as his cock twitches, as though noticing his attention. He sighs miserably, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was not going to jack off on this train. He’d have to wait. He was supposed to be meeting Subaru when he got back, but he really didn’t feel like showing up with an obvious boner. He’d simply have to be late, not that this boner was giving him much choice. He couldn’t even shift his attention away from it. The flush creeping up his skin made the cool air of the train that much more potent. The sweat beading from his chest makes his shirt stick to him, brushing against him more directly. His unhurried, labored breaths only quickened with every twitch. He could feel his mind clouding, slowly succumbing to the pleasant sensations, and small, soft moans escaping his lips. He keens once, feeling his cock reach full mast and form a tent, desperate as he was for release. He shakes his head, gritting his teeth and curling his hands into fists. He was not going to jack off on this train. 

He sits back upright, panting, certain his bangs were sticking to his forehead. Finally, the train makes an announcement. “Now arriving at Darwick Academy…” Haku sighs with relief, beyond ready to march back to his dorm room. He’s on his feet before the train even stops, driven blind by a need for release. He squeezes his thighs together, waiting at the door for the train to stop, shakily texting Subaru that he’d be late. 

Zenji Kotodama: Pass (Unintentionally)

He didn’t even realize it was NNN, man. To him, it was purposely abstaining from it to fuel his inspiration. Like hunger and thirst, certain sensations do go away or are dulled when you die, but intense emotions remain… desire being one of them. 

It’s harder than you’d think for a ghost to find some alone time. He’d finally finished composing his newest tune to play on his biwa, and wanted nothing more than to retreat to his own world. His newest tune had been about desire, something he felt so frequently as a ghost. A desire to live, a desire to be, a desire to connect with those around him. He also felt himself longing for physical pleasures, too. He can touch anything he wants… so long as it isn’t a living person. He just passes right through them. Thankfully, his dormmates that could see him do opt to pretend he can, but he wants to feel. He wants to touch. He wants to connect. 

Unfortunately, until that day dawned, he’d have to settle for himself, his beloved doll, and everything else. 

He’d left both the doll and his biwa out on one of Hotarubi’s may balconies, to watch the rain and the koi fish swimming in the ponds. Since Subaru knew he was “here”, he’d graciously allowed Zenji to keep a room, which he hardly uses, but is grateful for anyway. It is here that he retreats, letting the desire to touch brew into a boil. He grunts, dissatisfied, as he stalks to his bed, plopping his back onto the pillowy sheets. He groans, sinking into the bed. Despite his complicated mix of emotions, he still feels his arousal stir, feeling himself swell with the desire to touch, or be touched. He presses his lips into a thin line, welcoming the warmth as it swallows him whole. His cheeks flush and soft moans escape his lips as he imagines how it must feel; hands gently caressing his body, starting with his cheeks, then moving to his neck, gently trailing their nails across his sensitive skin, splaying their fingers wide on his chest, pressing them down hard as they pass over his nipples, moving lower, and lower, and lower… Zenji finds himself arcing into the imaginary touch, his dick twitching as though it were real. He shivers, following the insistent demand of his lower body and letting his hands trail further down his own body, hooking his thumb over his pants and tugging them down.

It isn’t long before he’s stroking his length, his desire taking hold of him completely. He throws his head back on the bed as he gently strokes himself, imagining someone else is teasing his length, taking slower strokes until they are satisfied. Zenji groans and begins thrusting into his hand, curling it tighter around his shaft. He traces his body with his other hand, touching and teasing all the places he’d like to be touched. He moans in tandem with each touch and thrust into his hand, feeling his peak reach him rapidly. He curls his free hand into his shirt as he cums, spurting his mess onto his hand and thighs. He turns his gaze down to his hand as he gently squeezes the last few drops out of himself. He’d have to keep settling for this.

a/n: caught my ass genuinely drooling as i was writing haku's part man im cooked. like!!! haku!! come to the old chapel... i'll totally give u head brew u some tea!!!! (tbh either way works he's so cute i just wanna spend time with him)

siiiiighhh anyways note that i appreciate likes, comments, and reblogs!!!! please tell me how much you enjoyed this! it means a lot to know you guys like my writing!

[anawrites3]

( @zeroducks-2 so I'm doing something and-

Dick… didn’t really remember what he was doing earlier. Just one moment he was sitting in the living room on the couch and the next the door to the bedroom opened and Slade walked out.

His hair was tied up into a messy bun and his chest was bare. The only thing Slade had on was sweatpants that rested so low on his hips that Dick could see the silver trail of hair that started from his belly button and led down, towards the lovely part of his body.

Dick had no idea that he was moving, only realizing it happened when he already dropped to his knees in front of Slade. The man blinked down at him surprised but before he could say anything, Dick was resting his hands on Slade’s thighs and leaning forward to press a messy kiss against his navel.

With a soft grunt, Slade slipped a gentle hand into Dick’s hair - not pulling him closer or pushing him away but simply holding - and watched as Dick ran his tongue over his underbelly. He sucked on the skin there, even if he couldn’t leave a mark that lasted longer than a few minutes and grazed his teeth against it, reveling in the way Slade’s muscle tensed under his touch.

“What got into you, little bird?” Slade murmured, when he came back to pressing wet kisses against his navel, carelessly sliding his lips over the happy trail.

For a moment Dick considered ignoring him because answering would mean pulling away but then Slade tugged gently at the strands of his hair and Dick groaned.

“Nothing.” He rushed out, before running his tongue over the hair there. “Are you complaining?”

“How could I?” Slade’s chuckle died on a groan as Dick bit down onto the skin, hard enough to leave a mark. It began to heal right before his eyes so he bit down again and felt more than saw the way Slade's cock twitched. “Far it be for me to deny you anything.”

[stardusttealeaves]

ARCANE DRINK HCs

So I was bored at an ungodly hour of the night so instead of sleeping....I did this.

This was written before season 2 came out. Thought this would just be a fun little ting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jinx - water of the day/ jungle juice

If u don't know water of the day just go look at it rq : here

Yea she does that. It's either that or she makes a cooler amount of jungle juice from random stuff she grabs from the bar and makes that last for a good while.

I don't even think she likes the taste of alcohol that much. Hell I think she airs on the lightweight side. But if she's drinking she's gonna want it to be sweet and taste like juice.

Vander - Whiskey

Cmon, the big guy of the undercity gotta have something that tows the line of sophistication and earthiness. He likes the subtle complexity that it offers. Something to take the edge off after a night of running the bar.

He's not the type to get "carried away" with it but...if he isn't careful he could def chug down a thing of Sir Davis like it didn't cost 90 bucks.

Other than that he's probably gonna keep it cute with a pint of beer on the reg.

Vi - whatever gets her drunk quicker

Cmon....We've seen the season 2 shorts. We know how bad it gets.

Imma be real I wouldn't be surprised if she just got to the point of chugging straight everclear like she does NOT care.

But sure let's give her a normal non angst circumstance. I think she'd develop a taste for whiskey. Ya know as a treat.

I'd like to think Vander gave her her first drink when she was still young, not like a full pour, just a bit for the taste. She hated it at first but over time it grew on her. Now whenever she has it, she's reminded of him.

Cait - Martinis

Cait doesn't drink very often, she's more likely to drink at events her family hosts.

I think she likes to keep it classy with a martini cause it's nice to sip, plus it's a bit stronger so it makes her pace herself. But she's not an olive girly, she's a citrus twist girly. Depending on her mood it's either gonna be orange or lemon.

Mel - That's that me espresso (martini)

Yes I was legally obligated to make that joke.

This would be a fav for her to have when she has an evening to herself. It's creamy, rich, a Lil sweet. It's a nice combination. She'd also have this when she's with Jayce or anyone she considers a close friend. Otherwise she is not bringing this to a function.

Nope at the function she is a pinot grigio haver. It's light, fruity, and keeps her pushing.

Jayce - Beeyah

This dude will have a DAY of being a politician amd immediately hit the fridge for a Modelo and a lime wedge like it's a cold cigarette to ease the pain.

He's like Mr. Boss in that one episode of smiling friends asking the waitress what kinda Lagers they got. But at the same time being very anal about the fact that beers and lagers are not the same thing.

("All lagers are beers, but not all beers are lagers" - Jayce probably)

Bro is one of those guys that care about ipas.

Viktor - Vodkah + mules

No this isn't because he's eastern european.

Ok maybe partially but that's not the point.

First off I don't think his body takes hard  liquor straight up that well, so occasionally he'd have a straight shot of vodka just to feel something. It hurts but not in the usual way ya know.

But in reality if he wants something to enjoy once in a while it's gonna be a classic Moscow Mule, it's not that strong and is nice to sip.

Silco - Scotch

This feels self explanatory like look at him.

Sevika - Whiskey

Similar to Vander she's into Whiskey but she's not in it for the savoring of it. Like in her case she will actively down that sir David and grab another one off the shelf once the first bottles done.

Ekko - dry as a desert

Given the environment that the firefights have curated I don't think he's the type to drink. I wouldn't be surprised if that whole area is dry and honestly good for them.

[dreamsteddie]

Wowza. Part one blew up way more than I thought it would so here! Part two! I do have more thoughts about this so there might be a couple more parts to come. We'll see ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

------

Eddie takes half a second to consider just not answering. Maybe throwing his phone away and never going back to the restaurant they went to last night so he never has to confront whatever it is that's about to happen. Maybe even fleeing the country and living alone on a sheep farm with no friends and go relationships ever again so something like this never happens again.

But then he thinks of Steve. Kind, funny Steve with the bright eyes and soft skin who looked at Eddie like he could fall in love with him and he knows that whatever comes next, Steve deserves for Eddie to see it through with him.

New Message: Steve H.

Hey

Just that one word sends Eddie's heart into his throat. He can see that Steve is still typing, those little ellipses of doom popping on and off the screen. Realistically, Steve probably doesn't know what happened, right? Eddie's pretty sure Steve wasn't in on it and it's been less than an hour since Eddie himself found out, so probably not.

Steve H: Gareth called me

Fuck.

Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck.

If Eddie's heart was in his throat at the first text, the second one has it dropping through his body and out of his goddamned ass. It's not that he doesn't want Steve to know. He was always planning to tell him, he was just hoping he could be the one to do it. Gareth being a little shit and calling Steve first was not part of the plan.

Steve H: He told be about the prank. I'm sorry if I wasn't what you expected and you were just being nice. We can pretend it never happened. No hard feelings.

Eddie slams his head into his pillow. This is such a cluster fuck he can hardly bring himself to look at the text but he needs to come up with some kind of response, like, yesterday if he wants any chance of keeping the man of his dreams from running for the hills because apparently, Eddie's friends are trying to destroy his life. He takes a deep breath and starts typing.

Eddie: Hey, I'm so sorry about that. I just found out about what they did an hour ago at practice. I didn't think they would just call you out of the blue like that, I was just about to text you.

Not completely true, but Eddie was going to text him about it, just after screaming into his pillow and making a couple Vudu dolls first.

Eddie: For what it's worth I really do like you and I would love to still take you out on that second date, but I understand if my friends scared you off and you want nothing to do with me. I know it's fucked up.

It takes a minute for Steve to respond, the typing bubbles ebbing and flowing as Steve types and retypes whatever it is he wants to say. Eddie is about ready to call it a wash and start googling sheep farms for sale in Ireland when a new text comes in, dispelling all thoughts of learning to sheer wool.

Steve H: Are you sure?

And fuck if that doesn't hurt his heart. Eddie has spent all of two and a half hours with Steve, he's a virtual stranger, but Eddie can swear he can feel all of Steve's secondhand insecurity through that one lonely sentence. Before he even registers what he's asking, he send a quick reply.

Eddie: Can I Facetime you?

Before Eddie can try to rethink his decision, his screen lights up with a notification. Steve is calling him.

Eddie scrambles to answer, fumbling his phone a little in his haste and almost missing the call completely. He manages to get it on the last ring, breathing heavily in a way he knows can't be flattering.

All thoughts about his lack of dexterity fly out the window when he looks into his screen. On their date, Steve was perfectly put together. Hair meticulously done, clothes freshly pressed, and a light sheen of lipgloss accentuating the perfect curve of his mouth. While Steve is still beautiful through the lens of his camera, it's clear that he's been crying. His eyes are red and a little puffy, hair out of order in a way Eddie thinks is probably unusual for him, and Eddie can see that he's wearing a well-loved beige hoodie.

"Hi," Steve says, waving a shy hand almost the same way he had last night.

"Hey sweetheart," Eddie says, keeping his voice low and gentle, desperate to soothe Steve however he can through the distance of their phones.

For a minute they just look at each other, neither one knowing what to say in a situation like this. Eddie sees Steve gearing up to say something, but he cuts in before he starts. There's something he needs to say while Steve can see him face to face.

"I'm really sorry about what happened!" He says, much lounder than he intended. "My friends were being dicks. I haven't dated in a while and instead of being normal fucking people they set up this whole stupid prank but I swear I wasn't in on it!"

Something about what he says draws a small smile from the corner of Steve's mouth, so Eddie keeps talking. "Besides, if they wanted to prank me they should have picked someone that isn't a literal fucking model in disguise. There wasn't a chance in hell I wasn't going to beg you for that second date."

At that, Steve gives a little chuckle and it lifts Eddie's heart from where it'd fallen onto the floor and puts in back in his chest 10 times lighter than before.

"Jesus, are you always such a flirt Munson?" he says.

"Only when the boys are especially pretty," Eddie responds.

Steve gives another little laugh at that before sobering up. He gives Eddie a long look through the phone, and Eddie lets him.

"Are you sure you don't want to just call it quits here man? Gareth was pretty adamant that I'm not the kind of guy you usually go for. I don't want you to feel like you have to humor me out of kindness." There's a forced flippancy to Steve's words that Eddie knows well from his own Munson Coping Strategies Handbook. Steve is trying to give him an out, but Eddie can tell that he doesn't want to.

For the first time since this all started, Eddie is well and truly mad. Gareth and Jeff had absolutely no business poking around in his love life in the first place, but now they've reached out to the guy Eddie already told them he liked to what? Tell him never mind actually, we don't think you're the right guy for our friend even though he told us very explicitly how into you he is.

Eddie lets all the frustration, anger, and tenuous hope building up in his chest fuel his reply. This one has to count, he can feel it. It's a charisma saving throw with the whole campaign on the line. He can't miss this one.

"Honestly Steve, if you asked me two days ago what I was looking for in a partner, I probably would have said I wanted to date another alternative metalhead or punk who likes playing DnD and getting high on the weekend." Eddie can see Steve's shoulders slump as his eyes dart away, but he pushes on, determined to make his point.

"But, I haven't had as good a time as we had last night in a really long time." Steve looks back up, eyes alight with the same tentative hope Eddie himself is channeling. "I think you're funny and interesting, and you have the absolute worst takes on ice cream flavors, and you're hot as hell. Like, seriously the hottest guy I've ever seen in real life."

Steve smiles, the edges of his eyes crinkling.

Critical success.

"So, about that second date."

-------

Tag List

@wheneverfeasible @the-dark-hearts @sofadofax @wrenisfangirling @whatfinestandsfor @lilpomelito @raisedbylibrarians @ollyxar @mugloversonly @xxbottlecapx @hezaaxdexangelous @kimsnooks @that-one-gay-crow

[cosmicalily]

"to be loved is to be remembered" - a mini series by @cosmicalily. view series masterlist, and outline here

3. classically-conditioned memory | han jisung x fem!reader

classically-conditioned memory: a type of implicit memory that is categorised as a learned, involuntary association between a stimulus and (typically emotional) response.

author's note: consider this my official rewrite and extension of my 'lovers rock' drabble for jisung! i absolutely adore this album (and this boy) and may have shed a tear whilst writing this. maybe.

warnings: implied sex (no explicit content)

For you, falling in love was not a singular event in your lifetime. With Jisung, it happened everyday, every hour, every minute, even if he wasn’t present with you. In albums and photographs and text messages, you loved him in a circadian rhythm; 24 hours, from the second you woke up to the moment before you fell asleep, head on his chest, bare skin warm against yours.

It had happened in the way he had smiled at you from across the room at his party, the place where you’d first met. In the way he’d invited you up to his bedroom, not to fuck, but to show you his record player. “It’s my baby,” he’d explained as your fingers ran across the backs of his records lovingly.

“What about your guitar?” you asked, picking your favourite album and setting it up to play, his fingers entwined with yours.

“That’s my baby, too.”

Falling in love with Jisung was listening to French Exit, your head resting against his shoulder, his leather jacket around your shoulders. Falling in love with Jisung was feeling your heartbeats quicken when Lovers Rock played, his body warm beside yours as the party continued downstairs. It was the way you cupped his cheeks, your nails painted wine red, and kissed him slowly, making out long after the vinyl had stopped spinning.

The two of you fell hard and fast, your love for each other a drug. When Jisung first got his drivers’ licence, you would take long road trips in the summer to dodgy motels by the coast, spending nights away from your friends and family, only wanting each other. He would play French Exit in the car, his hand on your thigh, and when he pulled into a parking lot to kiss you, too unfocused to drive any further.

Love with Jisung felt like every celestial object in the sky was colliding. Like the stars were all being reborn, like the clouds had never, ever clouded your vision in the first place. It felt magical and fantastical and like an intangible, out of body experience. It felt like something you had to hunt for, like something you would only ever experience once in a lifetime. It was a feeling deep within your bones that you knew you would never forget, an involuntary response, something unconscious.

“I’ll love you forever, baby. You’re the only one for me,” Jisung whispered, your bodies tangled in a mess of crumpled sheets. His room was humid, even with the window open, and his house was quiet, his parents out for the night. His skin was hot against yours, yet you didn’t feel uncomfortable or overstimulated. You wanted Jisung to take up all of your senses, to alert every part of your body with his presence.

“Mm,” you replied, resting your face closer against his warm skin. You listened to the record in the background, tracing shapes into his bicep to the rhythm of the music.

You felt his hand run through your hair, and you leaned into his touch.

“Mm,” you repeated again, nuzzling closer. You felt his chest rise and fall again, his breathing steady. Soon, you heard a soft snuffle, and he was asleep, bare skin warm, plump lips slightly open.

Gently, you wriggled out of his embrace. God, wasn’t he beautiful? Dark brown hair wavy from the summer breeze, soft cheeks you’d always kiss ever so gently. You reached out and touched his finger lightly, as if reminding yourself that he existed, that he was before you.

You shifted back into his arms, resting your face against his chest, pressing kisses to his collarbone. Your lipstick had long faded, but it felt like you were printing onto him, painting his skin.

You wished that he didn’t have to move halfway across the world, even if it was to pursue his dream. You wished that you were loyal enough to join him, but you couldn’t. Not when your whole life was here.

Something in you felt comforted, though. As the record played, and Jisung’s hand wrapped around your waist a little tighter, you knew that you would find him again. In music, in artwork, in dreams, both innocent and otherwise. 

He would never entirely vanish. You knew him too well.

Rain poured from the murky grey sky, dampening Jisung’s hair and running down his forehead, his nose, his cupid’s bow. He sighed, considering the twenty-three minutes of his journey back home he had. It would be better to wait it out.

It was dark, although the streetlights provided a soft glow, reflecting against the rain glossed sidewalk. He spotted a store with warm lighting pouring through its French windows, glass blurred and foggy. Jisung walked over to the burgundy door and was enveloped in warmth, a scent of familiarity and a sea of records stacked in mahogany shelves.

The shop seemed to have been designed to be a bookstore, with beautifully carved wooden cases that spanned higher than one could reach, clad with black iron ladders attached on rails to grab items from the top. The counter was empty, and Jisung couldn’t see anyone around, so he looked through the navy blue crate on the floor labelled ‘Favourites’. Beside the crate sat a record player on a low table. There was no vinyl currently playing, and a note beside read ‘Always play before you buy’. Jisung rifled through the stack of records, smiling at each album. At the very back, distinct in its red and black, sat French Exit.

His heart hammered automatically in response, body flooding with warmth. He remembered kissing you on the floor of his bedroom, kissing you in the music room at lunchtime, kissing you in between classes. He remembered your wine red nails and your (his) leather jacket, the stains your lipstick would leave on his cheeks, lips and collarbones. 

He had never stopped loving you. He fell in love with you every single day, even when you weren’t there.

Even after you’d gone your separate ways after high school.

“Good choice,” a voice came from the distance. “This album’s my favourite.”

Jisung stood up and turned, and you startled, a hand clasping over your mouth. Your nails were still wine red, and now, so was your hair, tousled and layered and falling just over your shoulders. You wore black tights and black boots, a navy plaid miniskirt and a black knit turtleneck. You looked different, but also not really. You were still the most beautiful girl he’d seen.

“Baby,” he breathed, and pulled you into a tight embrace. Your hearts raced, hands reaching to cup each other’s faces, kisses desperate. He wondered if your lipstick would leave stains again, if you still had his jacket. If you’d still let him kiss you on his bedroom floor.

“It came on the other day, Lovers Rock, and my heart started beating so fast. It always does, whenever it plays. My body remembers that song, and you,” you said breathlessly, nestling your face in the crook of his neck.

“Mine always does too,” Jisung replied, rubbing circles into your lower back. “I never forgot you. I’ll never forget you.”

“Me neither,” you whispered, and you stayed in his embrace, bodies warm against each other, hearts beating in sync. The record stopped spinning, and neither of you moved. You remembered. Your bodies remembered. 

You were a whole.

[silverynight]

Muichiro's favorite

Tanjirou is really happy to see Tokito again; he seems to be doing great, even after all that happened in the swordsmith village.

And now he can be trained by him, even if it's just for a while; Tanjirou knows he's very talented, he watched him train with the Yoriichi type zero after all.

"Tanjirou!" Tokito beams; his smile becomes impossibly wide and his eyes glimmer with happiness. "I was waiting for you!"

Such undivided attention makes him feel a little bit flustered, especially because the other slayers around are staring from one to the other like they can't believe what's going on.

"I'm glad you're feeling better!" He mumbles after a couple of seconds.

Tokito nods and tells the others they can take a break. Then he approaches Tanjirou immediately and asks him if he's hungry.

They eat together in Tokito's room while the others stay outside.

Since Tanjirou has noticed that none of the other slayers are shirtless, he puts his own uniform back on. Tokito pouts.

"You can train shirtless if you want, Tanjirou!" Tokito says, eyes roaming all over his body; maybe he's making sure Tanjirou doesn't have any injuries or perhaps he's just curious about the new scars.

"No... it's okay," Tanjirou rubs the back of his neck. "I'd feel weird if I'm the only one like that."

"I can ask the others to–"

"No, it's fine!"

The training session is hard, but Tanjirou likes it; he knows he'll become a lot better that way. Besides, Tokito is an excellent teacher.

At night, Tanjirou goes to the room where all the slayers are sleeping and puts his own futon in the middle of the floor.

"Kamado..." one of the slayers whispers shyly, as the ones around look at him with curiosity. "Could you please tell the mist hashira not to be too harsh on us?"

Tanjirou considers it for a couple of seconds, before turning around in his own futon.

"It's also difficult for him because he's training all of us without a break and then he goes out at night. Maybe he's patrolling the area or something, but he must be exhausted too and yet he's doing this for us, to prepare us for what's about to come."

The others listen to him with their undivided attention and nod.

"Well, at least tell him to be kind with his words, please?"

"I could... but I'm not sure he'll listen to me," Tanjirou says. Besides, Tokito has been a lot nicer to him lately... He has made a lot of progress already.

"Are you kidding me? He adores you!"

"He doesn't–" Tanjirou gets cut off by the noise of the sliding door being open and suddenly, Tokito is standing next to him.

"Tanjirou... come with me," Tokito says, grabbing him by his shirt. "I can't sleep alone."

"Alright..." Tanjirou smiles, thinking about how much Tokito has suffered before becoming a hashira, maybe he misses his family. He understands that completely.

He's about to grab his futon when Tokito takes him in his arms, giggling and carries him towards his room.

"But my futon!"

"Mine is big enough for both of us!" Tokito smiles again, fluttering his eyelashes at Tanjirou.

It's true that his futon is a little bit bigger than the others, but they have to lie really close to each other anyway.

It's alright because Tokito seems to enjoy cuddling with Tanjirou. He buries his face in the curve of the redhead's neck and nuzzles against him every now and then as he purrs like a very content cat.

Tanjirou is happy to help; he even runs his fingers through the Pillar's hair until they both fall asleep.

When he wakes up, Tokito is walking back into the room with breakfast; he looks impossibly happy and even kisses Tanjirou's forehead before kneeling next to him to eat.

Tanjirou wonders why they don't eat with the others, but he's too hungry to ask at the moment.

They dress and go back outside only to see the others are already stretching; Tokito keeps a hand on his waist the whole time and for some reason the others get flustered when they notice it.

"Good morning!" Tokito smiles at them, shocking them for a second; usually he only smiles at Tanjirou. "I had an amazing night! I hope you did too!"

Some of the slayers choke and others turn red before looking away from them. Tanjirou is not sure what's going on.

"Well, I have to prepare everything for today's session!" Tokito grins, before kissing Tanjirou's cheek. "I'll see you later, Tanjirou!"

Only when he's back inside the others seem to relax and look back at Tanjirou with curiosity.

They're still blushing though.

"So did you..."

"Or did he... I mean, how did it work?"

"Was it good? Well, he seems in a good mood so I guess–"

A female slayer hits the ones who were asking questions on the back of the head.

"I apologize on their behalf, Tanjirou. They don't have manners... but we know it's not our business."

Tanjirou is so confused that he doesn't know what to say or do other than nod.

They keep looking at him and Tokito in a funny way for the rest of the day, especially when Tokito touches him, but Tanjirou has no idea why they're so curious about that.

It gets even worse the next day because Tokito asks him to go to his room again.

Maybe the others want to be Tokito's friends too? He'll try to come up with something so the others can make friends with the mist hashira as well.

***

Patreon

[himbo-ford-pines]

hehehehehehe evil thots illegal thots here have bad babysitter Stan

CW: drinking

——————

Stanley watched his brother run full speed around the house. He sighed. He should have never given into the boy’s pleas for ice cream. Their parents were going to be gone overnight and had tasked Stanley with watching the seven year old Stanford. He recalled his pa’s warning before they left the house: “He’d better be asleep by eight, and eat his entire dinner and-“ blah blah blah. Stanley knew what he was doing. Christ they worried so much.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard a crash. He paled. “Sixer, I know you didn’t run into that fucking urn.” He stared hard at their grandmother’s ashes on the floor. “God… dammit. Okay.” He stood and grabbed the broom, muttering to himself. He was gonna get his ears boxed for this.

Stanford stepped back and rubbed his arm sheepishly. “Sorry Stanley, I was pretending to be a B-52 and-“

“Yeah, bud, I saw.” He sighed. “You need to calm down a little, you’re literally bouncin’ off the walls. In fact-“ he glanced up at the cat clock monotonously ticking away above the entrance to the kitchen. “I think it’s bedtime.” He considered ashes in the dustpan and grabbed a Tupperware, dumping them in while his brother whined at him.

“What?! That’s not fair, you get to stay up all night and watch tv!”

“Yeah, cuz I’m charge tonight, and Pa gave me specific instructions on what to do with you. I’m not getting my ass whooped because you wanna watch cartoons longer than normal. I’m already getting it because you spilled Grandma on the fuckin floor.” He wiped his hands off on his white shirt, grimacing at the dark smudges. Sorry Grandma.

Ford frowned. “But I’m not tired.”

Stanley frowned. Getting this kid in bed when he didn’t want to go was nearly impossible. Then he remembered his ma talking about giving them gin on her finger when they were babies to calm them down and put them to sleep. He wondered if beer would do the same. “Tell ya what, you can stay up with me, but you have to drink with me. You wanna be a man or whatever? Come on.” He grabbed a six pack he’d stolen from the local grocery store from the fridge and placed it on the coffee table imposingly. “Think you’re up for it?”

Stanford puffed out his chest in pride. “I can do it! I am a man!” He ran over to the couch and sat down, keeping his arms crossed.

Stanley threw some pajamas at him. “At least get cozy.”

Ford groaned and started taking off his clothes. Stanley found his eyes trailing over the boy’s soft body, coming to rest on the boy’s tighty whiteys. He shook his head when Stanford pulled his pj’s back on and flopped down onto the couch, cracking open a cold one with the boy. He grabbed the clicker and switched on the tv, flipping through channels until they hit some documentary and Sixer started yelling at his older brother to stop there so he could learn about jellyfish. Stanley groaned but figured the kid would only be up for a little longer so he obliged and settled back as he was lectured on the stages of jellyfish life, polyp stage, Medusa stage, blah blah blah. He sipped his beer boredly, and pulled the boy closer, offering him the bottle. “Here. You said you’d keep up with me.”

Stanford took it, a bit unsure of himself and sniffed it, recoiling a bit at the heavy fermented wheat smell. “You sure Pa won’t get mad?”

“Not if Pa doesn’t know. You gonna rat me out?”

“No.”

“Then shut up and quit worrying. Drink.” He opened another beer for himself and chugged half of it, letting out a loud long burp afterwards that sent Stanford into giggles.

“Gross Stanley!” He hit his arm and regarded the bottle before taking a tentative sip and almost spitting it out. Stanley covered his mouth.

“Swallow, Sixer.”

Ford swallowed with a shudder and let out a much smaller burp. Stanley grinned and nodded for him to keep going as the teen continued sipping his own beer. Stanford wasn’t going to back down from a challenge- he never did. So he drank. He finished the bottle about the same time that Stanley was half way through his second. He leaned back with a groan. His tummy hurt, but he didn’t feel drunk? At least, he didn’t think so?

“Hey kid, go grab those chips.” Stanley pointed to the bag of potato chips on the counter in the kitchen. “But finish this first.” He handed him the half full bottle of beer he had been working on. “Then we’ll be even.” He smirked, seeing the unsure look on Ford’s face. “Unless you’re chicken.”

Ford wrinkled his nose and tilted the bottle back, holding his breath to avoid tasting the sour liquid as it washed down his throat. He slammed the bottle down on the table, burped in his brother’s face, stood up determinedly, took one step towards the kitchen, and fell flat on his face with a groan.

Stanley burst out laughing and stood, stretching. “That was so easy. Alright, bed-“ his inebriated brain focused in on the lining of Ford’s underwear peeking out from his pajama pants. His cock jumped in his own sweats. He looked at the clock. He still had hours before their parents were home… and he and Ford had played before. It’s not like he hadn’t gotten a yes any other time he’d asked, why would this time be different. He picked the drunk kid up and tossed him on the couch.

Stanford grunted and blinked up at him. “Dizzy…”

“Shh.” He pulled the boy’s pants and underwear off, silent, and let Ford’s legs fall back onto the couch as he stared at the boy’s soft cock. He just… he needed this. He reached for another beer and took a drink of it before pushing it to his brother’s lips, making him take a drink despite Ford shaking his head. Stanley pushed Sixer back down onto the couch and pulled his cock out, stroking himself with a small groan before going down, taking Stanford’s entire package into his mouth and moving his tongue around, playing with his tiny cock and his fucking grape sized excuse for a sack. Ford let out a lewd noise, tangling small hands in his brother’s hair. “S-Stanleyyyy~” he crooned before his mouth fell open. He stared at the ceiling fan for what felt like a very long time as he focus’s on his brother’s warm mouth on his privates. He gasped- he was about to finish in his brother’s mouth when Stanley pulled off with a shimmery line of pre connecting his lips to Ford’s cock. He grabbed his brother’s legs and lifted them before spitting right onto his ass and shoving two finger into him. Ford yelped at the sudden penetration, wiggling clumsily in Stanley’s grasp but Stan had a big advantage on him in size and sobriety. “Easy buddy, I’m not gonna fuck you tonight, not really anyway. You get fingered and put to bed, that’s it.”

Ford let out an unintelligible whimpering slur of words at him that Stanley ignored as he felt around for Ford’s sweet spot. He found it quickly- he knew his way around- and didn’t let up on it, touching and feeling the boy’s prostate until Stanford came all over his own legs, blubbering and gasping. Stanley pulled his fingers out slowly and wiped them on the couch as he watched Ford catch his breath. “Are you ready for bed yet Sixer?”

Ford just closed his eyes and Stanley sighed in relief, curling around him in an apartment that was finally quiet.

[isa-ghost]

I had a dream that Phil joined another smp and we eneded up getting more q!Phil lore and now that I woke up I'm lamenting it's not real ;;;;

Bits I remember is him reaching the End with someone else through almost a glitch? Like they were leaving the nether just as a ghast tried exploding the portal and it took them theyre. But like Phil finds a message for him in there? With a green feather in it.

So he follows the message and finds a secret base in the Overworld where he runs into Chay and Lullah???? But as if theyd hatched and became proper players. And it seems fine cause it's Sunmin and Ama voicing them but Phil feels a bit wary (and theres a point where "Lullah" makes a joke in portuguese instead of spanish and Phil corrects her) so the vibes are that it's something mimicking them or straight up hallucinations.

And after he leaves we get revealed that he's still somewhat possesed by the Ender King???? As in the jerk figured out a way to do the more subtle possesion and just influencing Phil and making him forget chunks of time where he was more in control.

I was gonna get villain Phil in my dream and now i'll never know how it goes ;;;;;;

Holy shit that's sick??? Omg???

Allow me to take thos and run for a moment, imagine with me real quick:

My personal belief is that person he went to the Nether/End with was Fit or Etoiles. Or maybe Pierre. Those are largely the people he'd break shit with.

I fuck SO HARD with "Ender King never fully left Phil's body, he left a shred of himself in him Just In Case and it's undetectable (for now)."

I don't know why I'm so stuck on the green feather. Like... Who or what could that be? Idk why I'm so hooked on it, something about that is just so compelling but I've got nothing as to how to run with it. Though for him to find the feather with the message and then find the kids hatched,,, Idk, maybe Chayanne has feathery wings that are green (bc you KNOW Lullah's would be purple).

Also possibly fake Chayanne and Lullah ooouuuuhhhh... Consider: It IS them but that shred of Ender King is amplifying Phil's already usually easy-to-trigger paranoia. Not to mention we don't know how long after QSMP this is, the kids could have plenty of time to change and learn. It'd make sense that Lullah would want to carry on her memory of the Brazilians by learning Portuguese and even if not that, it's not unreasonable to say that During QSMP she could've picked up plenty of Portuguese things from the Brazilians themselves. It's just that Phil has never heard (or perhaps doesn't remember ;D) her making such references.

This is post-QSMP ending since you said it was a new SMP. This is post Death Family finale. As far as Phil knows, his kids are either dead, asleep forever, or hatched into crows back home in Hardcore. How could they have left there to hatch? It's too good to be true. He refuses to believe it's them (at first) because he doesn't want to get his hopes up. He doesn't want to reopen that wound, it's not even closed yet in the first place!

AND THE SPICE OF HIM STILL BEING PARTIALLY POSSESSED. THE KIDS NOT KNOWING YET AND HAVING TO REALIZE IN REAL TIME AND HAVE THE HORROR DAWN ON THEM. AUGH. Like when they see him for the first time, it's SO CLEAR he's doing TERRIBLE and not even just because of the partial possession.

He hasn't been readjusting well to being alone in Hardcore again. He's disheveled, he clearly hasn't been sleeping well, he's closed off, standoffish, a little cold. Not the warm, chill, smiley father still fresh in their minds. He's resistant to making new friendships on this new SMP because he hasn't overcome the pain of saying goodbye in QSMP and is he Hyperaware that eventually he'll have to say goodbye again here and he Does Not Want To. He is just Not doing well mentally and you can physically see it when you look at him.

The fucking spice of the kids not being around to be vigilant and catch that shred of EK sooner, the fact that Phil's been in such a bad state that EK has just been free to fester inside him. And you KNOW the kids would blame themselves for not being around to be vigilant.

Phil doesn't know EK is still hiding in his body yet, he doesn't Know what's festering inside of him, and it's actually hard to say if he'd do anything about it if he Did know because he's so depressed and hurt, he's still grieving. After all, in canon, Phil was very upfront with the kids post-possession that if anything ever happened to them again, he'd give up and just let EK take him.

But I bet you Chayanne and Lullah would remember him saying that as soon as they clock that there's a shred of EK lurking in their dad. And they'd be TERRIFIED that it's on the verge of becoming a reality.

Dude your dream is COOKING, even without me taking it and stretching it out like this. I'm going insane. /pos

[gotwcird]

the almost growl from nico sets something off within her. makes her that little more needy, that little more wet. it's like a switch flipped in her head. all that she's denied over the years, things she'd only entertained as fleeting fantasies to get herself off, they're all turning into her reality. he's everything she never thought she wanted, never realized she needed. and her body is making sure to let her know that. even through her haze of excitement, she notes how he breathes hard, how he tenses above her. but nothing can make her miss what he says about her laugh. she's almost embarrassed by how bashful she gets because of it too — considering her naked state and their past orgasms — but she can't help it. it makes a giddy smile come up on her flushed features. "you do too, i like hearing it."

star is definitely getting used to this. to him, how he pumps into her, extracts every drop of pleasure from her body. it's definitely better now, somehow. she can feel herself hurtling straight into another peak, maybe far too soon, but she doesn't want him to stop. especially not when he slides another finger in and she lets out a gentle cry, feels her body bloom with a delicious new layer of heat. "shh-shiiit-" she whines, moving her hips into his thrusts, chasing the motion with a kind of sloppy vigour. he's getting bolder, harder with her, and it makes her ravenous. then dear god, he calls her his good girl and it makes her full-body shiver. "i'm your good girl." she echoes his words, dazed and open-mouthed and undeniably pleased. looks up at him with eyes that shine with desperation and a beautiful tractability that she feels herself falling deeper into the longer she's under him. doesn't even think when he instructs her to lift her hips, moving like she's programmed to his whim — like she's made for him.

everywhere he touches ( her belly, her leg ) burns, makes her twitch and shift. she wants his touch to etch into her skin. he's so pretty, even if he's looking at her like she's something to be devoured . . . she'd let him too, like a rabbit willingly jumping into the jaws of a fox. "yes yes- i want to . . . want to be yours." her hands run over his hair, pulling, to his nape, grasping. "cum in me. want to be your cocksleeve- nico's cocksleeve." she doesn't know where all these filthy words are coming from, how they're coming out of her cascading one after the other ( probably something to do with that dormant part of her he's woken up and the erotica she's read ). but she can't even think about it much more because he hooks her ankle to his shoulder and his hand is on her belly pushing and oh- "fuck! oh fuck-" her exclamation comes out in a gasp, can feel the pressure of it with his bent fingers stopping her breath for a wonderful, traitorous second. it should be illegal how good she feels, how easily he's pushing every single one of her buttons. her toes are curling and her eyes are rolling and she can't begin to comprehend anything else except him. "more-" byeol pants, the words feel like they're being squeezed out her lungs. feels herself ignite closer to the edge. "more. finger, please." that's something she can comprehend, unfortunately. her need to feel more of him, to feel him stretch her out, fill her. something of his to complete her while she waits for his thick cock to do the real job. if that means a third finger then she's more than ready for it. "please, nico. please-"

he grins , half triumphant , half surprised by HOW MUCH she says and how good she is at keeling right into him . it's like they've practiced this their entire lives . like they know exactly how to touch , suck , fuck . the visual of him cumming across her body and skin makes his body tense again , momentarily flexing . the visual of the mess he'd make . of star's eyes blinking up and unassuming at him . IT'S GOING TO MAKE HIM GO CRAZY . he lets out a noise , almost a growl . " we can do that . " nico breathes out again , noisily through his nose , yet nodding along . his voice sounds strained even to his own ears and he wonders again if she realises that only SHE has this effect on him . only SHE is doing this to him. the sound of her laugh makes him lean back slightly , so he can capture the image exactly . he's always liked her laugh , like the way it FITS HER SO WELL . nico has never been someone that can really make laughter or jokes flit out of his mouth , so he's extra appreciative of this effect from her . " you have a really nice laugh . " nico finds himself saying , soft and quiet , almost unheard .

when star arches his back , nico lets out another approving noise . he nods his head , enraptured by the feeling and the sight . it reminds him of last night , of her in HIS bedsheets , fingers curled , eyes squeezed shut , back arching . he'd thought that he'd never see that again . he'd almost been ready to beg , to quit his job altogether just for another SECOND of her like this - and now here she is , unwrapped and unravelled . he moves his finger inside of her with more ease now , more practice almost . nico doesn't know her entire body , wants or needs , not yet anyways . but he recognises these noises and the fast way she lurches up to meet him . he feels a heat in his belly . his own cock twitches again , and he winces at the sensitive feeling . his curls his finger inside of her upwards , his other finger gently moving on the outside of her again , collecting any of the wetness that slides out of her . SHE FASCINATES HIM . the way she grinds and moves . the way she wants it and him .

NICO ISN'T EXPECTING SO MUCH TO COME FROM HER PRETTY MOUTH . because that's what it is . pretty , and proper . curt , at times . professional almost always . the first few times they spoke was nothing less then short with each other . he pushes that thought out of his mind to relish instead in the way she speaks now . he leans back on his haunches , his finger driving in harder with every word that escapes her mouth . nico's breath leaves him in harsh exhales , eyes flicking from her talking , to her breasts , to where his finger disappears inside of her . then again . and again . " you are good . " he tells her , immediately , and he slides a second finger inside of her , as if to prove the point . " see how well you take it ? " because he can . he can't NOT look at it and think about it . his second finger joins the tight warmth , slivering in beside his first . he allows her to adjust to the feeling before he begins to pump them in , a bit harder now , harder than he's dared to before because her WORDS are making his self control tumble and tumble . . . " you're my good girl . " he's in a haze watching her , hearing her words bounce around his brain . " you want me to use you ? " nico's entire body breaks into goosebumps at the very prospect . he's nodding again though , leaning up and grabbing a pillow from beside her head . " up . " he instructs , helping her lift her hips so he can place the pillow behind them . he moves closer to her again , their bodies synced together . his other hand goes to her soft , small belly . as his fingers keep moving inside of her , he moves his hand from her belly to slide up her leg . " you want me to treat you like that ? huh ? like something for me to cum in ? " he doesn't know where the words are coming from , he's never been a dirty talker much before , but star makes him want to do EVERYTHING , too . he hooks her ankle over his shoulder , before resting his hand back on her belly and pushing slightly . just lightly , as both his fingers curl inside of her . his hair falls onto his forehead and he's vaguely aware that star is gripping onto it , yanking it . the burn reminds him of where they are . of what's GOING ON . it centres him , and he gasps for air , swallowing it down desperately . " look at you like this , star . fuck . " he feels her walls clench around him and his cock traitorously aches , wanting nothing then to be inside of her . he wishes to god that he can get hard soon and do what they both desperately want . " keep talking , baby . let me get you there . let me feel you cum all pretty 'round my fingers . "

[irregularjohnnywiggins]

You ever have those moments where an idea just... won't leave your head?