#he hoist that little twink up

[rindemption]

I haven't personally seen any pics of Astarion with a big bodied Tav yet, so here 😘

[daveth-isnt-dead]

Tentatively

Summary:

You don’t want to tell him the truth, that most of your friends have grown up and don’t talk to you anymore, that while you love your family it’s too difficult to find time to travel and see them, that you are incredibly lonely.

Contains: Fem Reader, Death Mention (but only as much as you would expect given the source material) Word Count: 2,235 Read on AO3

You still feel strange a few hours after leaving the chatroom. Grim, who despite all evidence to the contrary, is actually the Grim Reaper, left pretty abruptly after telling you there is something incredibly wrong with your soul and you are unsure if you should be concerned or offended about the whole thing. 

After a disappointing meal of microwaved leftovers and an attempt at enjoying a relaxing bath despite your apartment’s abysmal water temperature, you find yourself laying back on your bed and staring up at the all too uninteresting ceiling as you wait for your hair to dry. The window above your desk is open and the cool breeze is pleasant, but you’re already getting the sense that you will have trouble getting to sleep tonight, despite Grim’s uncharacteristic insistence that you get some rest after today. 

There’s something so lonely about these summer nights, lonely enough that you find yourself scrolling through your contacts list, looking for someone ( anyone ) to talk to. Calling your parents this late will only make them worry, and all of your friends from uni have much better sleep schedules than you do and will already be out cold. You toss your phone onto the vacant pillow beside you and let out a sigh, that really only leaves one option. 

Hoisting yourself from the bed, you walk over to the desk and grab your laptop. Quickly tapping open the chatroom app and turning off your camera before hitting the call button. You push your lamp and pot-plant out of the way to leave room for the laptop on your bedside table and lay back down as you wait for an answer. 

You spend the first seven rings worrying that he won't pick up, by the eighth you are proven wrong.

“I thought I already told you to go to sleep.” He says in lieu of a greeting. 

All the lethargic energy in the room suddenly dissipates, and your mouth tugs up in a smile, “Hello to you too”

“I was being serious.”

“Yeah, but you aren’t my boss.” He huffs, “I am your reaper.” “Oh?” You reply, smirking to yourself, “ My reaper, are you? Just mine?” “No! I- I’m just assigned to you. That does not mean-”

You laugh, “Sorry, sorry. I’m just teasing, thank you for picking up, I mean it.” It’s quiet, but you swear that you hear a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the call, “I- well, I just wanted to be certain that you were not suffering any side effects from the soul connection.” He clears his throat, “You…aren’t…are you?”

“I’m having trouble sleeping, but I don’t think I can blame that on you. I suppose I feel a little jittery? But that makes sense given my emotional state right now.” “What is it?” “What’s what?” “Your uh- your emotional state.”

“Oh.” You say, feeling your heart beating a rapid tattoo behind your ribs, “Well, I dunno. I’m a little overwhelmed, I suppose. I really just thought you were an edgy cosplayer, and I mean, you still are but you are also literally the Grim Reaper, so I’m still just dealing with that I guess.”

“That is perfectly normal, then. Though you should have been feeling frightened the moment I contacted you, your reaction was quite delayed.” “Hey! I never said ‘frightened’ I said overwhelmed! That’s a completely different emotion.”

He chuckles, “Unable to stop thinking about me, then?” “That also isn't what I said.” Though, he isn’t entirely wrong, “I’m just worried about how I'm going to focus at work tomorrow when I’ll be spending the whole day looking over my shoulder to make sure some white-haired twink isn't about to commit murder upon me.” 

“White-haired what? ” “Twinnnnk~” You reply, “Look it up, I’m sure that will keep you busy for a few hours.” “I hardly need to be kept busy , I have important work to do.” “Like stealing my soul.” “Yours and others, I do not just follow you around all day.” He says dryly, “You are not that important. Also, I will not be murdering you. I am pushing you in the correct direction, one you have stubbornly been avoiding for far too long.” You hum quietly to yourself, reaching out to pat your cat where he sits next to you on the bed, “How was I meant to die anyway? Just out of curiosity, since you seem to know everything about it.” He doesn't answer for some time, and the deafening silence makes you regret even posing the question. 

“Do you really want to know?” He finally asks, “Most people never find out, because unlike you they die when they are supposed to.” “Hit me with it, Grimmy.” He groans, “Do not call me that.” then you hear him sigh, deeply, contemplatively, “You were supposed to die of food poisoning.” “Oh.” You reply, feeling your heart sink a little, “Damn, that sucks. That’s so…boring”

“Death often is.” “I guess, well, I guess I was hoping that the way I die might be interesting at least. What food would have poisoned me anyway?” “Ham sandwich.” “Yikes. Was the ham poisoned or something?” “No, just expired. On a related note, you do need to clean out your fridge more often.” He’s right. Your fridge is pretty nasty, and it kind of always has been. It’s a very low priority on your list of tasks.

“Grim?”

“Yes?”

You swallow, unsure how to phrase the real question hiding in the recesses of your mind, “could you…I dunno, kill me gently, if it comes to it? I mean, I just-“ you roll over onto your side, making eye contact with the black screen of your laptop, “If I have to die, I don’t want it to hurt.”

There’s silence for a moment, and then he replies, “I don’t want it to hurt you either.”

“That’s…sweet, Thank you.” “Lacking desire to see you suffer does not make me sweet , it makes me considerate .” He sighs irritably, “More importantly, does this mean you’re finally willing to hand over your soul?” You laugh, “ No! I just- I dunno, I had a weird day and I'm feeling kinda existential now.” You look through your window, staring up at the night sky, “Do you feel that way sometimes, or is it just a human thing?”

“I do not see how that’s any of your business.” “C’mon, Grim. Just play along for once, get silly with it.” You hear him huff on the other end of the line, you can picture the exact pouty face he must be making right now, “I have been a reaper as long as I can remember, and will continue to be one for the rest of my life, there is little for me to be existential about.”

“Hm.” 

“What?” He says brusquely, “What are you ‘hm-ing’ about?”

“The thought of having one job for the rest of my life is exactly the sort of thing that makes me existential, that’s all.” “Well you don’t have to work at the same job for the rest of your life, so what exactly are you complaining about?” “I mean, the rest of my life might only be a few more days.” You say, “Provided you win our bet of course, which you will not be doing.” “Do not doubt me, Sunshine. You may come to regret it.” You giggle, “Doubtful.” There’s a rustling sound on the other end of the call, you can only assume that he is also lying in bed right now, “I am quite literally death, and I even gave you concrete proof of this fact this evening.” his voice turns quiet, dare you think it, wistful, “Why aren’t you afraid of me?” You shrug, even though he can’t see you, “You aren’t very scary.”

“I am going to take your soul .” “You are going to try and take my soul.” a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, “And even if you do, you’ve already promised to do it gently .” “I promised not to hurt you, I never said anything about being gentle .” 

“I’m sorry, I just don’t see the difference between those two statements.” He groans, and when he speaks again his voice is muffled. You suspect he has his face buried in a pillow, “You are infuriating. When I leave the chatroom for the evening I assume that I am done with you, I was not prepared for you to insist on continuing our conversation well into the night.”

“What, are you tired?” All goes quiet for a moment, and then, “No. Are you?” “Nope.” “Hmph, you should be at this hour, especially after a day of work.”

“I- well, I dunno…”

You don’t want to tell him the truth, that most of your friends have grown up and don’t talk to you anymore, that while you love your family it’s too difficult to find time to travel and see them, that you are incredibly lonely. You are tired, you have to be up at 5:00 to get ready for work tomorrow morning, but the idea of saying goodbye, of hanging up, makes something ache deep inside you. Something inside the very soul he wants to steal. 

“You don’t know, what?”

“Huh?” Grim huffs again, “You said, ‘i dunno’ and then stopped talking, which is very out of character for you, by the way.” “Oh? Did you miss me? Were even those brief seconds of silence enough to make you realize how much you love hearing my voice?” “I will hang up.” 

“Don’t.” You say before you have time to think better of it, “Please.”

“I-“ he clears his throat, “Only if you can act normally for the rest of our conversation.”

“I’m plenty normal, you’re the weird one.”

“What’s weird, how am I weird?”

You roll onto your back, staring up at the celing, “Oh i dunno, just the whole ‘I am death incarnate! I have come for your soul! I will connect my soul to yours! ’ schtik” 

“You know fully well that it is not a…what did you call it? A schtik?” He pronounces the word completely wrong, “Whatever that is, it is not one of those. I am death incarnate, I am here for you soul, and you were literally an active part in the soul connection.”

“Oh, about that soul connection thing, by the way.” He scoffs, “Your ability to change the subject at a whim is still strong as ever i see.” 

“I know, I’m very talented- anyway! I wanted to ask if you can do anything cool now that we have a soul link or whatever.” “I have already told you, I cannot control your body. As entertaining as it would be to embarrass you publicly, even my exceptional abilities could not do that” 

“Oh kay , how about something easier, then?” You feel the warmth of your cat as he snuggles up against your side and instinctively reach out to pat him, “Read my mind, go on!” “I cannot do that.” “C’mon, Grimmy, give it a go!” You squeeze your eyes shut, “I’m thinking about something real hard right now.” He sighs, “Are you thinking about your cat?” “ Whaaaat? How did you know?!”

“I didn’t know , i guessed. I can’t read your mind, but i am still attuned with your soul.” His voice has turned uncharacteristically soft, he’s almost whispering, “It… flutters …when you are happy, and your cat makes you happy. So I guessed…”

“So you’re a soul reader, then?” You ask, trying to ignore the fact that your stomach also feels oddly fluttery right now.

“That is not a thing. You’re just making things up now.”

“Try again.” You say, your mind unwittingly flooded with thoughts of soft white hair and judgemental red eyes. Of hands you wish were bare, of sharp toothed smiles. Your heart slows to a languid rhythm, and something you aren’t ready to put a name to curls warmly in your belly. You close your eyes, softly this time, and breathe, “What am i thinking about now?”

He goes silent for a long time, you can hear the slow, even draw of his breath. You can picture him laying back on his bed, hair splayed over the pillow, brow creased in concentration and you wonder if he is thinking about you too. After what feels like an age, he finally answers, “your…plant?”

You burst into laughter and any tension in the air shatters, “My plant?! What about my soul was screaming plant just then?”

“Well, I don’t know! It was just happy again, happier, even and I assumed that you were smart enough not to just think about your cat again.” 

“Yeah, you got me.” You lie, “it was my cat again.”

“Hells, every single day you find a new way to get under my skin.” He sighs, and despite his earlier statement, his next words come out almost fondly , “You need sleep, mortal.”

“Yeah.” You reply, feeling that ache tug at you again, “I probably do.”

“I will talk to you tomorrow, that is, if you survive until then.”

That gets a laugh out of you, and you can’t tell if that was his intention or if he was being completely serious, “I look forward to it. Remember to murder me nicely, Grim.”

“As nicely as I can, I swear.” You can hear his smile, “Goodnight, Sunshine.”

[kupwrites]

The Best Kind of Revenge

Brett Talbot x Dunbar!Twink!Femboy!Reader

TW: Top Brett, Bottom Reader, unprotected sex, dirty talk, locker room sex, wall sex, sorta size kink, puppy kink, degrading, and praising

Liam and Brett did not get along.

Sure they could be civil and work together to get rid of whatever supernatural threat popped up next.

Sure they could be civil and work together to get rid of whatever supernatural threat popped up next.

But Brett still wanted revenge and he knew the best way to do so.

Liam’s brother.

He was tiny framed and adorable, always wearing feminine clothes.

Brett, even before the whole coach’s car and revenge thing, had eyes for Liam’s brother.

The two had flirted before, never for long though. Liam had clearly told Y/N to stay away from him.

That didn’t stop the femboy from casually starting conversations before games and even after games for a couple of moments. Or from running his hands gently up Brett’s arms or standing quite a bit close to Brett.

So when Brett had Y/N pressed between his body and the wall of the boys’ locker room, there wasn’t much surprise.

The two feverishly kissed, Brett tightly gripped Y/N’s hip and Y/N had his hands tangled in Brett’s hair.

Y/N’s boxers already been taken off and Brett’s free hand worked him open.

Y/N let out a soft moan. Brett pushed his tongue into the smaller boy’s mouth.

Y/N pulled away for a moment, “Gotta be qui- ah, game’s soon.”

“I know,” Brett began littering kisses against his neck. “I know.”

Y/N titled his head to the side, letting Brett have better access to his neck. Brett sucked a good hickey, it was going to be dark and obvious.

Perfect.

Brett pulled his fingers out and Y/N whined.

“Aww don’t worry puppy,” Brett chuckled. “You’ll be filled like whore soon.”

“Brett,” Y/N whined again. It was cute.

Brett hoisted Y/N up by the back of his thighs, Y/N tightly wrapped his legs around Brett’s torso.

Brett pushed his shorts and boxers down. He spit on his hand and stroked himself a couple of times before lining his cock up with Y/N’s entrance.

“Will you hur-” Y/N started as Brett pushed in, they both moaned. “Fuck!”

Brett gripped Y/N’s hips tightly, definitely leaving bruises, as he continued to push himself in.

“Please just fuck me already,” Y/N was demanding things now.

Brett did expect him to be a bit sassy, “Mmm, I could keep you like this, maybe wait for your brother to come in and see what a good little slut you are, what about that puppy?”

Y/N’s cock throbbed at Brett’s words and he was sure the werewolf knew how they effected him.

“You seem to enjoy that, you want your brother to see you spilt in half on my dick, you want your brother to see you being the perfect whore for me? Is that it, puppy?”

“Brett….”

Brett smirked at Y/N’s whiny tone. He tightened his grasp on Y/N’s adorably small frame and pulled out until only the head was in.

Brett slammed back into Y/N.

Y/n moaned and gripped onto Brett’s shoulders as Brett started pounding into him at a rapid pace.

“Fuck,” Brett groaned. “You’re so good for me, so good pup.���

Y/N only moaned and asked for more.

Brett was fucking addicting, slamming into Y/N and making his brain was turn to mush. He could barely form a single a sentence. Mostly singular words came from his mouth.

God if they didn’t do this again…

“Harder,” Y/N gasped.

Brett chuckled and changed his angle, slamming into Y/N’s prostate. Y/N cried out with pleasure.

“I can’t wait to do this again, puppy, fucking can’t wait when we have more time and I can take you apart,” Brett’s breath ghosting Y/N’s ear. “I’m going to make you the perfect toy for me, puppy, you’ll be so good.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Y/N muttered in response.

The sound of skin hitting skin bounced around the boys’ locker room and if anyone came close enough they could absolutely hear the two boys’ moans.

Brett held Y/N up with one arm and used the other to start stroking Y/N.

Fucking werewolf strength.

“Don’t- ah! Don’t stop!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Brett started kissing Y/N’s neck again as he fucked him.

The game was going to start any minute.

“Fuck, I’m so- I’m so close! Brett please!” Y/N started babbling.

“Come on, puppy,” Brett licked a strip up Y/N’s neck. “Show me how good of a slut you are.”

Only took a few more jerks and thrusts for Y/N cry out, orgasming hard.

“So good, puppy,” Y/N heard Brett say.

Brett came moments later, both riding out their highs for as long as possible.

With heavy breaths, Brett set Y/N down on his feet. Brett pulled his shorts back up and sank to his knees. He helped Y/N back in his boxers.

Brett used one hand to pull up the boxers and the other to push his cum back into Y/N.

Y/N gasped as the feeling.

“I’ll have to get a plug for you,” Brett stated, off handily. “Make sure my perfect toy can keep my cum for as possible.”

Y/N smirked, “Means there’s gonna be a next time?”

“Obviously.” Brett and Y/N kissed each other once again.

——

Brett arrived on the field a few minutes after the game started but, still, immediately got put in.

He had a face off with Liam. This was going amazingly.

“Scared that I’m gonna break you?” Liam taunted. “That why you’re late?”

“Nope,” Brett smirked. “I was just admiring your brother’s post orgasm face. It’s fucking hot.”

Liam growled, gripping his stick tightly. Brett laughed in his face.

He reacted the way Brett guess he would.

An absolute feral and pissed look on his face.

Despite not being able to hear the exchange on the field, Y/N knew he was now in deep shit with Liam.

——

Part 2 out now :)

[distortionposting]

Shirts And Skins

Jared Hopworth x Stranger!Danny Stoker

Running a gym is harder than expected, but especially when unpleasant clients start causing trouble.

TWs- homophobia (dw it's some rando but queer is used as a slur once), internalized homophobia, canon typical flesh and stranger content (body horror and implied cannibalism)

Also I'm American and know absolutely nothing about gym culture so don't come at me, I just wanna write gay stories lol

------

"What the hell is that tiny twink doing in here?"

The question caught Jared off guard as he snapped out of his daze. He had spaced out while sitting at the reception desk, like he typically did when things were boring. His gym may have been a front to feed on fear, but he still had to run the place like a proper business, boring or not. It had been a longtime dream of Jared's to own a gym, he just hadn't expected running it to be quite so... dull. At least something seemed to be happening now?

"What's going on...?" Jared rumbled groggily, punctuating his question with a yawn. He hadn't sensed any change in the insecurity levels permeating the place, so it wasn't affecting his fear farming. No decreases, so he didn't need to mess with the lights or the music, and no increases, which meant one of the plentiful victims was ready for "harvest." Things were just... blah.

"Are you fucking stupid? I'm asking you what the hell this guy is doing in here!" The irate man, whose biceps were the same size as his shiny bald head, gestured toward a slender figure on the treadmill, wearing a shirt with stripes on it. He wasn't sure what it was, but Jared figured it was some kind of pride flag. He had a hard time keeping up with which one was which, so he never bothered with it. Gender and sexuality hardly mattered when everyone was a walking meat slab. (Though he did admire the dedication some had in the quest to obtain the perfect body.)

Jared watched the stranger jog for a moment, saw no immediate issue with his form, then looked blankly back at the client making the nebulous complaint. This guy's steroids were probably affecting his brain. Clients did get easier to persuade into new shapes after a while of using the stuff, though, but that also meant their tempers got worse and worse... Which meant Jared had to keep them in check.

The man stared at Jared expectantly, gesturing toward the treadmill once again, a little more rude this time. Without a beat, Jared answered. "Well, it looks like he's getting a better leg workout than you. Should work on that too, you look like you've skipped a couple leg days." The swell of self-consciousness coming off his customer made Jared grin. This guy could be sent over the edge from client to victim soon, Jared could practically taste it. These types of gym bros had such frail egos, which made it so easy to mess with them. Essentially, with lax gym rules, they flocked to this place like a fly to honey. It was like working at a fear buffet, and so long as he kept the lights on, he'd never have to worry about his next meal again. Those meatheads that ditched him for the ritual didn't know what they were missing. Not to mention he thought the whole ritual plan was stupid in the first place, a meat hole lacked any kind of imagination. It's like they didn't even try.

A shout from the other side of the room pulled Jared out of his residual anger regarding his recent abandonment, and he quickly realized that the guy he was mocking a second ago was about to go full 'roid rage. Lax rules or not, a fight would attract unwanted attention. Annoyed with the whole situation already, Jared hoisted himself out of his seat and pushed past the growing crowd of gym rats. He was fully prepared to wrench the tinier man from the larger patron's grasp, but to his surprise, the smaller of the two seemed to be holding his ground. This could get interesting.

In this very moment, Danny was facing down the goliath who had unceremoniously turned his treadmill off, pulling the plug at the source. At first he had assumed it was some sort of emergency, like a small personal object had rolled underneath the track, or even an electrical fire, but this was not the case. No, this asshole was just looking for a fight. Danny was hardly bothered, though, he'd been confronted by men this size before and thrown them for a loop, easy-peasy. The big lunk seemed awfully cocky too... Danny decided that a quick stretch wouldn't hurt, especially while this asshole was trying and failing to intimidate him.

"Are you even listening to me?! I said I want you outta my gym, fucking queer!" The man snarled, attempting to shove Danny back mid-stretch. Fortunately, Danny found it all too easy to evade his touch by purposefully dropping to the floor like a rag doll. Not far from the truth of the matter, he thought, contorting himself to be standing on all fours. It was in that very second that Jared realized that he had a Stranger in his gym, and that things were about to get weird.

The instigator stared at Danny in pure shock, and Danny seized the opportunity to have a little fun.

"I'd be listening if you had anything interesting to say!" He twisted his torso around a full 180 degrees, his legs following as if it were an afterthought. At this sight, a handful of the customers bolted out the door. "At least you noticed something right, big boy~" Danny winked at the man, laughing as his opponent's face got redder and redder. Jared wondered if the man might explode if his blood pressure got too high.

Unable to hold back panic and rage any longer, the man attempted to punt the Stranger in front of him, only managing to graze Danny as he deftly somersaulted backward and subsequently skittered up the shelf holding the hand weights, like some sort of feral animal. Danny goaded him on, throwing his head back and laughing between moments of making kissy noises. The man wasn't having any of that, and before anyone else could stop him, he hurled one of the benches in Danny's general direction. Unfortunately for Jared's wallet, the man missed his intended target and knocked down an entire row of exercise bikes, which fell with a terrible crunching noise.

"Alright, everyone get the fuck out of here." Jared bellowed, sending whatever bystanders were left running. They had seen Jared mad a handful of times, and knew better than to stand up to him. Jared was an enormous man, towering over even the strongest power lifter among them. Those who stood against him either disappeared completely or were hospitalized with severe injuries. Danny, however, knew no such fear, and continued his reign of chaos by launching himself directly onto his foe. The man attempted to avoid the sudden blow by turning away from his attacker, only for Danny to cling to the straps of his tank top like a maniacal little rodeo clown. The man scrambled to pull Danny off his back, but was unable to get a proper grasp on him. Bodybuilding came with an unfortunate price: his arms were so swollen that he could no longer reach the small of his back.

Jared attempted to pull the man back toward the office, but lost his grip when the man threw himself backward against the wall instead, desperate to get Danny off his back. Danny didn't seem to be in any distress at all as he was slammed repeatedly against the bricks, but in all fairness, he was gathering a good amount of fear from this nonsense. Jared cursed under his breath, pissed about what he was about to do, but there wasn't enough time to hesitate. The longer this fight went on, the more likely someone was gonna call the police. It had to be shut down RIGHT NOW.

With a single fluid motion, Jared ripped his baggy t-shirt off as easily as if it were made of tissue paper. What might have appeared as a beer gut beneath his tee (though he was not slender by any means) was actually a well hidden second set of arms, equally strong as his openly visible set. Mourning one of the few shirts that fit him decently well, Jared threw himself into the scuffle. His lower set of arms deftly grabbed the instigator's wrists, while his right hand gripped the man's throat, pinning him firmly against the wall. The remaining left hand pried Danny off the man's back as if he were a scruffed kitten. This was done with far less force considering Danny hadn't started this whole incident in the first place... and because most of Jared's strength was being put towards holding the bigot down.

Danny looked Jared up and down, the momentary peace finally giving him the chance to actually see the gym owner up close. Ripped, shirtless, and real handsy, Danny thought, realizing it was an excellent chance to shoot his shot.

"Finally!" He exclaimed, "A man who knows how to handle me!" A sly grin crossed Danny's face as he spoke. "You can handle me anytime. Nice grip."

Jared went bright red, his grasp on the human tightening out of surprise, the tendons in his hand bulging out. The suddenly strangled man gargled in protest, all the while Jared stared back at Danny, mouth hanging open. Girls had tried fawning over Jared a thousand times before, but this felt different. He couldn't figure out why, though... maybe it was all three of his hearts fluttering in unison. He tried desperately to ignore it, which was a little easier when the man he was holding down was trying to escape not one, but two monsters.

"Stop being so annoying, I'm trying to--" Jared growled as the man beneath him thrashed, to no avail against Jared's iron grip. "You know what? Fuck this."

Jared set Danny back on the ground, pointing at him, and then the front door. "Go lock the door and flip the closed sign for me while I shove this jackass in my office. I want a word with you." Danny saluted in response, which elicited a snort from Jared. The little guy was pretty funny, he couldn't deny that. Once everything was properly settled (aside from the muffled screams from the guy locked in the office), Jared sat down on one of the benches, gesturing for Danny to sit next to him. He tried to ignore his racing thoughts regarding the seating situation as well, shaking the idea and his shaggy brown hair out of the way.

"Sorry about your gym," Danny started, idly kicking his legs. "I didn't think I'd cause a scene so soon. I thought I was gonna mess with you, actually."

An abrupt half-snort, half-laugh escaped Jared's lips. Him? Scared? Impossible. "Yeah? " Jared challenged, grinning mischievously at the circus geek next to him. "What were you gonna do, huh?"

Flirtatiously walking his fingers up Jared's massive arm, Danny laid on the classic Stoker charm. "Oh, you know~ Wait until closing time, make you come over and tell me to leave, and just when you're about to tap me on the shoulder..." Danny suddenly let his upper half go slack, his neck hanging at an unnatural angle, like a marionette that suddenly had its strings cut. The surprise of it all made Jared laugh. It definitely wouldn't have scared him by any means, but it was still well executed.

"Hey, that's pretty good, man. The dead-eyed look sells it. Woulda scared the shit outta someone who didn't harvest organs for fun." Jared lightly elbowed him, prompting Danny to pull himself into a more natural position, giggling all the while. Man, that laugh was infectious.

"Do you want any of our extras? I mean, we try to use every bit at the Circus, but even Nikola doesn't really know what to do with a spare gallbladder-- Anyway, I could bring some to you as an apology for wrecking your place? Say... tomorrow at closing time?" Danny looked up at Jared with wide, sparkling eyes. Maybe a little too wide, revealing a sliver of the plastic that kept his frame together.

Jared didn't know what to say. Nobody had offered him anything before. In his life so far, if he wanted something, he had to get it himself, regardless of how legal it might be. It took clawing tooth and nail to get his gym, and he committed plenty of murder in the process. Yet here this Stranger was, wandering directly into his hunting grounds, and apologizing for causing trouble. To say it was a touching gesture was an understatement. Blinking in complete shock, Jared managed to blurt out an astonished "Yes??"

Danny squealed in pure joy, throwing himself against Jared in as big a hug he could give the man. It ended up closer to Danny face-planting himself against Jared's bare chest. Jared blushed again, staring at Danny momentarily before awkwardly giving him a pat on the shoulder. Were all Stranger avatars this touchy-feely? It wasn't that he hated it (though he'd never admit it), it just so happened that Jared wasn't used to this kind of contact. When his ex-friends were still around, the most positive contact he would get was a slap on the back. All of this was so new.

It took a moment of skin-to-peeled-skin contact for Danny to suddenly realize that Jared no longer had a shirt as a result of all the mayhem that had occurred mere minutes ago. Sure enough, the remaining shreds of it laid pitifully on the floor. The idea coagulated quickly in Danny's mind, and he gave Jared's chest a firm, friendly slap. Damn, this guy was solid as a rock under all that muscle.

"I can get you a new shirt too! The Circus is very good with a needle and thread, see?" To prove his point, Danny held his arm up to display his seams, which were almost impossible to see unless you were looking extremely close. Jared had to admit, it was pretty impressive.

"That'd be great," Jared confessed, "Pretty hard to find stuff I like in my size. Or anything in my size, really. Liked that shirt, too."

With a sense of determination, Danny picked up what remained of the shirt to keep as a template. By god, he was going to make things up to this man. "Then it's settled!" Danny announced triumphantly, "I'll bring you dinner and some new clothes tomorrow night, sound good?"

"Er- uh, yeah, sure." Jared stumbled over both his words and emotions, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "And, uh. You don't have to worry about seeing that guy ever again, I'll take care of him." A skillful press to his chin urged a sharp set of teeth forward, tusks much like a boar's erupting from his lower jaw. A crack of the neck, a shake of the head, and Jared looked like a new man.

"On the same note, wanna thank you for finding me an early lunch. Meat is meat, y'know." Jared chuckled and gestured back toward his office, where the locked door was being rattled desperately by the man trapped behind it. His fear was already delectable, but there was nothing like sinking your teeth into a nice, juicy cut of muscle and sinew. Something of a rare treat these days.

He had already thought Jared was particularly attractive, but the sharp teeth stopped Danny dead in his tracks. Sure, he was playfully flirting with the Flesh avatar before, but that smile had him falling hard and fast. If he had a heart, surely it would have been beating in double time. How was he hotter as a monster?! Danny was so doomed. He didn't even know if this man liked guys! Hell, they hadn't even exchanged names yet!

Fuck it, it was now or never. Danny awkwardly stuck his hand out to Jared for a handshake. You know, the most normal thing to do when you want to date a guy. He was already mentally kicking himself, but it was way too late to take this back now. "You can call me Danny."

"Jared," he grunted in reply, his enormous hand engulfing Danny's as he gave a firm shake. "Names don't mean much to me these days, so it's whatever." This made Danny giggle, perplexing Jared in the process.

"Sorry, sorry!" Danny continued to giggle, "It's just, you sound more like the Circus than I do with the whole name thing. My name's the only thing that sticks with me. Nikola says I'm a special case." He shook his head bashfully, letting his arms swing idly at his sides. "You're uh, you belong to Viscera right?"

"That's a real big word when all you gotta say is Flesh. That's me though. The Boneturner." The way Jared enunciated his title could have given Danny the shivers. Why was he so hot??? Even if this guy wasn't interested in men, his looks were going to haunt Danny's thoughts for the rest of his existence.

The electric lights buzzed around them as the tension grew thicker. There was definitely something blossoming between them, though neither could put it to words so soon. The door behind them continued to shake as its occupant tried to free himself.

"You, uh, you should probably take care of that guy, huh?" Danny gave an awkward smile, fidgeting with the t-shirt fabric in his hands. Jared nodded in agreement, feeling the hunger beginning to gnaw at him. The anticipation of a good meal practically had him drooling.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow then...?" Jared trailed off, barely able to tear his eyes away from Danny as he spoke. It was so odd to see a Stranger with such an athletic physique, and the very concept was intriguing to him. Hopefully he'd learn more about him under less hectic circumstances.

"It's a date!" Danny beamed, bouncing on his toes as he made his way toward the door. "Maybe next time you can meet me at my place for gymnastics rehearsal! Bye, handsome~"

And before Jared could protest with so much as a 'no homo', Danny was out of the building. The thought of it festered in the back of his mind as he closed the gym up early. He thinks I'm handsome, was the first concept to sink in, offering a considerable ego boost. Danny saw him passing as a human and a bit of his monstrous form, and it didn't change his opinion a bit. The last time he heard that was from his surrogate mother, Angela, and mothers were basically obligated to say such things, even if she wasn't his real mother. She was just the avatar who helped him get back on his feet again, that's all.

The other phrase took a bit longer to grapple with, It's a date. Jared wasn't completely sure if Danny had meant it in a romantic sense or not, but considering the handsome comment that followed, it seemed pretty damn gay. Was Danny flirting with him? The feelings around that were incredibly murky. On one hand, it was just the two of them who knew, and nobody would ever find out... on the other, if it ever got out, his reputation could be destroyed in an instant, like his father would say. He never quite understood why his father hated queers so much, but the countless news stories and videos of the violence towards them were frightening enough that Jared had tried very hard not to be anything like that. He had wanted to make his father proud.

Granted, he had been kicked out for the weird magic bone book instead. The fear was still there, though.

You know what, Jared suddenly decided, This is too much to think about on an empty stomach or three. He had left his meal stewing in fear for long enough, it was high time he had a bite. This doubt was due to low blood sugar, surely that was it. Yeah, he'd be fine, the gay thoughts would go away if his head was clear. Definitely.

Forcing himself to relax, the crackle of bone could be heard beneath layers of muscle. The sharp edges jutted out of Jared's skin deliberately, just as artfully as he had intended. The perfect form was never quite complete by design, but he always did feel better appearing precisely how he wanted in the moment. He was bone-chilling, threatening, and no one in the world would ever dare touch him. Even better, he'd be able to show off the truly terrifying look to his latest victim.

Bon Appétit.

[cyberrat]

Long post but this has been LURKING in my head and I must share.

Vox with his interchangeable parts decides he wants to give himself a pretty little cunt just for experimentation purposes. Except he can't just let VALENTINO see him acting like a virgin with his pretty little slit, especially with how much fun he has bullying and teasing Val's pretty little pussy. No, the vengeance would be merciless and humiliating. He needs someone who doesn't matter. Someone he can bully into obedience. That cute little eel assistant of his is well trained, already good at juggling meetings and being a pretty little cockwarmer for stress relief. It'll be fine.

(It is not fine.)

Glitch/Eelliott/Peppermint (I've seen So many names for him) has accepted that he's the secretary in a bad porno with the way Vox will drag him under the desk or fuck him while watching Valentino on his screens without a seconds hesitation. He accepts that sometimes, working at V tower means Valentino will come up to you, caress your face in one clawed hand, and whine for Vox to let him borrow you because he thinks you'll cry pretty. It might be upsetting if Vox wasn't paying him so well, or if the people perving on him were less attractive. He's always gone weak in the knees for power though and this is no exception. When Vox snaps for him to come into his office? Glitch is a good little toy and follows.

When Vox drops his slacks to show off a pretty little pussy instead of a new vibrating/double dicked/spiked/etc attachment, Glitch drools.

Vox has to deal with the fact that suddenly his well behaved little toy has a spine. That instead of the nervous hesitation that came with the first time he made Glitch suck him off, or the well trained eagerness focused exactly on his own desires that he's taught the twink, Glitch is BEAUTIFULLY eager to make a mess of himself eating out his boss. The sensations are just new enough, different enough as Glitch laves the flat of his tongue along Vox's electric blue little slit, that he can't quite keep control the way he usually does. Whimpers. Whines. Humiliating little pleading noises spill their way out of him and each one encourages his usually timid, hesitant little assistant to be eager. Almost cruel. Vox barely let's Valentino fuck his uptight little 50's ass! Having his weak little subordinate spreading his thighs and going to town eating his cunt like he's starved for it is SO much more than he was expecting to deal with!!!

When he finishes, Vox thinks he's done. That he'll just wipe Glitch's mind with his hypnosis so only he and his cameras remember how this little ingrate made him whine like a woman and make such a scene. But before he's able to, Glitch is pushing him onto the desk properly and fucking into him like HES the stupid little secretary who needs to be punished for bringing cold coffee. Maybe it would be easier if it was like that, if Glitch was taking revenge for unpaid overtime, for years of being made to handle things like Vox's impossible schedule or being made to pick up the slack when Vox decides he has time for a Valentino break. Trying to punish his boss for making him lick up the mess that had dripped out of Val onto the polished floor would at least keep them to their roles of boss and employee. But no, Glitch won't stop running his mouth now that it's free. Greedily telling him how good he feels, how pretty he is with this pussy, asking if this is a treat for him and thanking Vox before he can protest. Telling him he feels so GOOD. One hand is groping through Vox's shirt with a confidence the eel has NEVER had before, greedily searching for his nipples to grab and pinch and tease, while his other leg is hoisted higher in the air than Vox thought he was capable of stretching just to keep that pretty pussy as open as possible.

Glitch doesn't even have any skill with his cock, he's just eager and so fucking pleased as he rabbit fucks into Vox who's trying to tell himself it only feels so good because HES good with tech and made an excellent cunt, that it's got nothing to do with how that tongue worked him up so prettily first. Nothing to do with Glitch telling him he's always thought about doing this, about how he's been fantasizing about Vox in a pencil skirt and sharp sharp heels for years now anyway-

Obviously, Glitch needs to be punished afterwards. After Vox cums so hard he blacks out. After he's put himself back together again. After he's berated his little assistant who looks like a kicked puppy but still doesn't look quite guilty. Clearly, the best choice is to lock Glitch up in a chastity cage. He is only allowed pleasure when Vox decides now.

...If that happens to mean that denied, needy, greedy little Glitch is that much more eager. That much rougher in the once in a blue moon occasions he's ALLOWED to fuck Vox. Well... that's not Vox's fault!

Oh. My. Goodness 😮

I‘m fucking speechless oooffffff yesssss 👏👏👏👏 fucking LOVE Vox with a pussy getting *bamboozled* by his assistant 😭😭😭 that‘s so fucking good and horny.

He didn‘t want Val to notice how cute and virginal he is about his pussy and ended up getting his cherry popped by his fucking little assistant. What a looooser >:3c

[iamthecomet]

So like idk if this is gonna be like a prompt or something but I wanna get your take on this.

So you know how everyone’s always like “big dick mountain” this and “small dick dewdrop” that… but what if it was reversed? What if mountain had a smal dick and dew had a big one ya know? And hell what if maybe everyone thinks dew is always the one getting railed by mountain but what if one day a sibling or maybe one of the ghouls walks in on them accidentally and finds out they were very wrong as of seeing mountain with his legs wrapped over dews waist tightly while dew teases and “bully’s” mountain about his dick size

You don't understand how much I think about stuff like thisssss. I am very equal opportunity when it comes to my dick-size headcanons (meaning, they change all the time). And I'm FULLY ON BOARD FOR THIS. Everyone knowing Moutain and Dew are banging. All the siblings know it. They see Dew sneaking into Mountain's greenhouse. If they walk too close they hear them, gasping, moaning, whining they assume is coming from Dew. They see Dew coming back out later with his hair all fucked up and bruises on his neck. They see the way they look at each other. They know. Everyone knows. And yeah, of course they assume that Dew's bottoming. That Mountain is stuffing that little twink full of his no doubt giant dick. But what if someone gets curious. Sees Dew slip into Mountain's greenhouse at sunset one night and can't resist. The walls are glass after all, and Mountain and Dew are hot--and Swiss watches them all the time, they're used to an audience. Maybe not a human one but if they wanted privacy they'd go inside. But what they see isn't what they expect. The sun casts golden light over Dew and Mountain. Sweat drips down Mountains' face as he clings to the potting bench Dew's hoisted him up on. His legs wrapped tight around Dew's bony hips. Cock hard against his belly. Leaking. So much smaller than all the rumors say. Flushed dark red already as Dew fucks into him. Long rough strokes that betray his size. They watch as Dew presses the heel of his hand down on Mountain's stomach. Then makes Mountain do the same. Asks he he can feel how deep he is. They watch Dew drag his fingers over Mountain's cock. Engulf it in his hand. Thumb over the slit and tell Mountain it's cute. Cute how hard he gets. Cute how it fits so nicely in Dew's hand. Cute how small he is, a handful, a mouthful, easy, adorable. And Mountain's undone by it. By Dew's words and the way he can feel Dew's cock under his hand. How good it feels to be taken care of like this. And god those Siblings watch as Mountain spills all over Dew's hand and his own happy trail and they know that no one will ever believe them.

[m0r1bund]

[image description below the cut because it's Big]

◆◆◆

Bwahh.

Tubby baby Ximone is @soulfullofold's Charr character, Trahearne is Trahearne. “xyz will now die for you” is a reference to the ever-iconic Hiimdaisy Persona comic.

I have two competing thoughts about swerving on Trahearne getting fridged. One of them is self-actualized water spirit who is haunting the shit out of Orr, and the other one is blighted vessel that killed and ate mordyboy while he was locked in his psychic prison, but nobody else knows that, least of all Trahearne, so everyone just wants him dead.

though I guess maybe these could become the same thing somehow.

…I just think he’s neat.

◆◆◆

[Image: a sketchpage of altogether too many shitty little Guild Wars 2 doodles. From left to right, top to bottom, roughly:

One Trahearne hoisting up the inordinately huge Caladbolg / Caladcholg, and looking ominous.

The Lastborn, comically minimized and running away from Trahearne with his Big Sword ™.

The Lastborn brooding and hugging his knees, with his sharp blades of yucca hair standing on end. He says ‘No talk me I’m angy.’ The next doodle shows a much softer-eyed and mellow Lastborn saying ‘No longer angy. I want to be loved now.’

Yuri shaking hands with Trahearne. A narration box says ‘You became friends.’ Nothing changes in the next panel, not even their expressions, but a deathly pallor falls over everything. The box says ‘You will now die for each other.’

A minimized Yuri sitting next to a minimized Lastborn. The Lastborn crouches on the ground, reduced to a yucca puffball with little mitts for hands. He looks up at Yuri through big, catlike eyes. In the next doodle, he bonks his head and whole body into Yuri’s shoulder.

Two drawings of Ximone as a fierce little cub. She looks appropriately ferocious in the first doodle, arcing her back and prowling around on all fours…. Though she’s about as threatening as a pudgy puma kit. In the next doodle, she’s shocked up onto her hindlegs by an equally surprised kid Yuri. He rolls on his back to avoid her sharp claws.

A shitty little Mordremoth getting confronted by Yuri and Trahearne. Mordremoth points at Trahearne and says ‘I WANT THAT TWINK OBLITERATED.’ Yuri and Trahearne exchange glances, and he slams his claws down and roars ‘NO!!!’

The Lastborn sitting in the great palm of the Pale Tree’s hand and desperately pleading some sort of case, as he typically finds himself doing around her and her company. She’s big mclargehuge and intimidating because I said so.

One blighted Trahearne, touching the thick scars on his arm. Much of his face and body is scarred as well, the whorls, lines, and ragged edges tracing his ill-fated death throes with the dragon.

The Lastborn delicately changing some linen bandages on blighted Trahearne’s face. They’re saturated with blood; He seems to have re-opened earlier wounds. He is uncharacteristically angry with the Lastborn’s efforts to attend to him, and asks ‘Why are you doing this?’ The Lastborn recoils, slightly. He sheepishly answers ‘All things have a right to grow.’ Trahearne strains, raising his bandaged arm to stop the Lastborn from working any further. He says ‘Don’t—Don’t quote him at me. This is different and you know it.’

Yuri and Trahearne taking a combination bath-nap in a body of water, somewhere. Yuri makes a good improvised pillow, it seems.]

[lilithsterrarium]

New obsession: Twink w/ an affectionate mean streak

Catching a micro in his bedroom—looking somewhat inoffensive compared to the usual person. A svelte man made up of soft, smooth skin and angular features. Almost feminine in appearance as he peers down at them through long eyelashes. Assessing them.

A soft shush when he picks them up, slender fingers curled carefully around their tiny body, not the tight clutch they’re accustomed to. Humming as he delicately runs a finger across their body, rubbing attentively against the hardening tent in their pants. Smiling lovingly as he pets their head.

It doesn’t take him long to decide to keep that micro in a cage, supplying it with food and fresh water. A new pet.

Though, once he comes back from work, the micro knows that there will be no reprieve from his ‘unwinding’ session.

Feeling his glare upon them as those thin fingers wrap around their waist, hoisting them out of the cage and bringing them to his lap. The poor bastard choking on the scent as he presses them into the soft sole of his foot, squashing them into clammy flesh. Making them lick his feet clean whilst he uses them as an impromptu massager. Taking an interest when they try to wriggle free—grasping them with his toes, squeezing tightly.

Their lithe god reminding them that he could just as easily crush them, instead of being so merciful. The feeling of his plushy sole bearing down upon their body almost being worth the pain.

Once their body is battered and bruised enough, the man gently pinches them between a forefinger and thumb to lift them skyward. Earning themselves an affectionate coo, and a kiss that smothers them against his lips.

Then, the micro watches as the world blurs, whisked over to dangle above the opening of their god’s boxers. Dropping his tiny pet down the back of them, and tucking them away, feeling their desperate little gasps against his asshole. His lips twitching into a smirk as he prods them with a crude tease, feeling their mouth making contact.

Leaving them there. Taking a long few hours to ’relax’ with his pet. A tired grunt melting into a pleased groan when he lays down on the couch and turns on the TV. Absentmindedly groping his ass whilst his beloved pet diligently licks at his eager hole. Knowing that his micro will never know another life.

(Waah I’m so sorry, my drabbles are always so long.) —🐻

FBSCBFCJXJAJCJZJ UCJF GOSH <3

(DONT WORRY I. REALLY ENJOY YOUR DRABBLES 😵‍💫💞)

The look of sheer fear on the poor little thing's face when they're spotted, their new owner peering down at them with an expression so difficult to read... they already look divine, it only makes sense they would be a god...

That fingertip lovingly stroking their head, ruffling their hair.... shnddjdjsd GOSH <3

I'd give anything to be their micro... lapping sweat off their sole, moaning as they rub the poor little thing against every inch of his warm, sweat-soaked skin.... the overwhelming muskand scent staining every inch of his new pet~

DHCHDHCJCH NEEEEEED

Lapping so eagerly at their new owner's asshole, twitching pucker adored and treated right.... hchhdhdhda GOSH <3333

[mlm-writer]

Rutterly Filled (Omega!Wei Wuxian x Alpha!Male!Reader)

Pairing: Omega!Wei Wuxian/Wei Ying (The Untamed ver.) x Alpha!Male Reader (NOT trans-friendly) Rating: Explicit Words: 3416 POV: Second Summary: You have not had a rut ever since you have been captures with the other Wens. Now things are going well on Burial Mounds, your body decides it is time. Unfortunately, your prolonged period of being rutless meant your next one was going to be extreme. Fortunately, the Yiling Patriarch is secretly an omega and you two have been flirting ever since you met. Notes: This is 200% self-indulgent. I saw the twink, I fell in love, I wanted to wreck him. Do I need an excuse?  Tags: Omegaverse, a/b/o dynamics, ruts, idiots in love, being in a relationship without realising it, reader is a himbo, loss of control, magical restraints, breeding, knotting, multiple orgasms, does Wei Ying have a dick and a pussy or a dick and an ass? up to you!, self-lubrication, fingering, blowjobs, facials, handjobs, gēge kink and fuck or die

There was no qi flowing anywhere. The only thing that filled your ‘internal stream’ was utter rage. “I told Wen Qing this would not work without a golden core!” You exclaimed as you got up and started stomping around. The alpha pheromones were rolling off you in waves and you were low key glad you were the only alpha present on Burial Mounds or you would have started a fight the second you caught a whiff of any other alpha.

“It was still worth a try. I do not think there is a way to stop your rut now.” You stomped around Wen Qing. You did not want to lash out at her. Were it not for her concoctions, you would have gone into rut a few days ago without a backup plan at all. Your hands clenched and unclenched at your sides. “There is one thing I have not yet told you.” You let out a grunt, indicating you were listening. “Wei Wuxian is an omega and has offered to help you through your rut.” 

You stilled for a second. The Yiling Patriarch was an omega. It only took a second for you to process. Wei Wuxian was not known to adhere to any stereotype or standard. It was not crazy to think that the Yiling Patriarch, a figure that induced fear and hate in many cultivators, was a fragile omega. He may carry himself around like a big figure, but truth to be told, he was skinny like a twig and if he was not such a good fighter, anyone could snap him in half. It all made sense, it was not a crazy thought.

“Master Wei has saved my life. I am already indebted to him. I will wait out my rut in the tent Wen Ning set up in the woods.” You were already walking to the door of Wen Qing’s humble hut, but she stood in your way. Sometimes you suspected her of being an alpha as well. One never knew, when cultivators could just simply suppress their second gender, making them all appear like betas. 

“You have not had a rut in a long while due to the poor conditions we have been under. Your first rut in a while may be much more intense than you are used to.” You clenched your fist, digging your nails into the palm on your hand. Your eye twitched. “Wei Wuxian can defend himself against you, should there be any need. He is also the only omega on the whole mountain. His only condition is that you do not mark him.” You violently shook your head before you could agree to it. The man was the prettiest boy you had ever laid eyes upon and while you two had been flirting, you had not yet confessed that every flirty word you shot his way was truthful. The thing between you two, unnamed and not yet romantic, was too good to risk. 

You walked away from the door, before you were going to physically lash out at Wen Qing. “I will not take advantage of master Wei. I owe him too much already.” 

“Your excuses are so weak, I’m starting to think that you don’t think I’m attractive.” Your whole body whipped to the door, where the omega in question had appeared with a pout on his face that made you want to kiss him. His lips were pink and glistening. They looked so full and soft. Wen Qing told him to get out, but you already caught a whiff of the omega scent you had never noticed on him before. Before you had any control of your tongue, you had agreed to spending your rut with Wei Wuxian, the Yiling Patriarch. Want bubbled up from deep within you. There was no way back now. 

You followed him and his scent like a blind puppy, as he let you between trees to a tent Wen Ning had set up earlier in case you could not suppress your rut. You saw the dark red fabric in the distance, when suddenly you were caged against a tree by Wei Wuxian. “Scent me,” he whispered into your face and he did not need to say it twice. You rubbed your nose all over his neck and down to where it met his shoulder. You took deep breaths, letting your lungs fill with the sweet and spicy scent that you from now on would know as Wei Wuxian. You didn’t know how long you were rubbing yourself on him and smelling him, but after a while, the fog of alpha hormones cleared and you had a bit more grip on what was going on and what was about to happen. “Better?” Wei Wuxian giggled as he rested against you. You held him close and slowly breathed in his scent. 

After a few slow breaths, you nodded and took his hand to drag him to the tent. It was big enough that you two could stand inside and there were supplies inside, mostly food and water, but also extra robes. You didn’t hear the sound of a lake behind the tent, as you dragged Wei Wuxian inside and pushed him down onto the straw mat on the ground. You crawled on top of him, but as your eyes met his, you were awfully aware of how you were acting. “Sorry, maybe we should talk about what I can and cannot do, before I lose all my patience.” Wei Wuxian laughed and shifted so you two were sitting on the straw mat, facing one another. His robes had fallen open a little and the sight of his chest threatened another frenzy to make itself known.

“You can do anything, but try not to claim me. It is a little early in our relationship for that.” You almost choked on your own saliva and started coughing. Wei Wuxian handed you a waterskin, but you needed a solid minute, before you had enough breath to actually attempt drinking anything. 

“I’m sorry, but… relationship?” You watched Wei Wuxian through teary eyes from your coughing fit. He seemed to turn red in an instant, his face now matching the ribbon in his beautiful silk black hair. 

“Yes? I mean I thought… we always flirt? And we drink together and you sometimes feed me at dinner? We also cuddled when we were drunk? I know we never talked about it, but we are in a relationship or something… right?” You stared at him, a little dumbfounded. He did not lie; those things happened. You just took all those things for things Wei Wuxian would do with anyone.

“I didn’t think of it that way,” you immediately regretted your words as you could see Wei Wuxian’s heart breaking all over his face, “but! But! But!” He looked at you, hopeful in a way that seemed plainly desperate. “I want it to be that way! I just didn’t realise what we were, but I want to be…” There was a flare of hormones and you shuffled forward to bury your nose against Wei Wuxian’s scent gland. “I want you, even when my rut is over, but also now. Right now.” A slight shift and you noticed you were hard between your legs. 

Wei Wuxian might have noticed it too through your robes, because he was shoving at your clothes. You stood up, ripping everything off in a hurry and grabbing Wei Wuxian by his ponytail. You pulled at it until his lips were around your hard cock. You let out a moan of relief, as he immediately started sucking on the length. He resisted when you tried to get him to swallow more of you. Wei Wuxian only took the tip, but with the way he was sucking and licking, it was enough for now. You threw your head back, grunting into the air, while Wei Wuxian sucked you off. His tongue cupped the head of your cock and played with the ridge between the head and the rest of your length. The wet sounds of his mouth seemed so loud in the small space. Before he even took more of you in his mouth, you grabbed his shoulder and squeezed. Wei Wuxian took the hint and with a wet pop he pulled his mouth off your cock. You would have protested, were it not for the hand on your hard length. 

The cultivator squeezed the knot at the base of your cock, everytime his hand was at the bottom of your length. You looked down at him, seeing him with his tongue out, a smile hinting behind that lewd expression, cheeks a beautiful rosy colour that matched his spit-glistened lips. You let out a groan and kept a firm grip on his shoulder. Ropes of cum spilled from your cock. Wei Wuxian’s face, hair and robes were painted white with your seed. When he finally let go of your cock, your face heated up at the sight of him. A mixture of embarrassment and arousal swimmed inside your belly. “I’m sorry,” you whispered out of breath, but Wei Wuxian just smiled at you and started taking his soiled robes off, wiping himself off with a sleeve. When he was mostly clean off your cum, he laid himself down on the straw mat, completely naked and stretched out like a meal for you to devour. 

“Don’t apologise, I want this too,” he confessed with flushed skin and a hard omega dick twitching between his legs. You kneeled down and hoisted his legs onto your shoulders. Your tongue automatically fell from your lips at the scent of omega slick filling your nostrils. Lapping up the slick that had escaped his wet hole and trickled down his thighs, drew a gasp from Wei Wuxian’s lips. “Don’t tease me.” 

You huffed out a laugh at the annoyance in his voice. “Or else? Will the Yiling Patriarch haunt me like a ghost and eat me?” You didn’t let Wei Wuxian reply. You held him up with one hand and pushed your tongue inside, the other hand touching his cock. The omega mewled and moaned as if he was putting on a show for you. Maybe he was. When was Wei Wuxian not making a scene? “Wei Wuxian sounds so perfect,” you growled as you licked the slick off your lips. 

“If you are going to knot me until I can’t walk, at least call me Wei Ying,” the demonic cultivator huffed, his eyes ravishing your body. You smiled as you put his legs around your waist and lined your cock up with his wet hole. 

“Wei Ying is perfect.” And with those words, you slid into his heat. Wei Ying gasped as he stretched around your thick alpha cock, the slick making the slide easier, but he was not in heat. You got halfway, before the resistance became too much. “Wei Ying needs to relax,” you grunted as you rutted inside him, micromovements trying to make further entrance possible. 

“You’re too big,” he complained, hands on your arms and squeezing your biceps. You leaned down and caught his lips in a biting kiss. Soft, pink lips turned red under your onslaught. A hand made its way to his throat and he gasped deliciously against your wet lips. Wei Ying squirmed and gasped for breath as you frantically fucked his hole open until you were slipping in deeper. “So big, too big, I’m going to tear in two!” 

You would be more concerned for him, were it nog for the thick cloud of alpha hormones clouding your judgement. Instead of sounding fearful, Wei Ying’s voice fuelled the fantasy of a helpless omega at your mercy. “Pretty omegas like you can handle this,” you growled in a voice no one woud have recognised as your own. Both hands landed on Wei Ying’s hips and you sat up, so you could thrust inside him with vigour. 

Wei Ying’s voice would have been audible from miles away as he screamed mostly in pain. Coherent thoughts had long left your mind and all that was left was ‘mark’, ‘claim’, ‘fuck’, ‘knot’ and ‘breed’. Pleasure was all on your mind as you closed your eyes to fully enjoy the stretch of Wei Ying’s walls around your cock. That was until you found yourself unable to move. “No! No! No!” You growled as Wei Ying slid off your cock. He pushed you onto your knees and sat down across from you. 

“I’m sorry, alpha, but don’t worry I will not leave you like this,” he croaked out as he struggled with sitting down comfortably. His chest rose and fell in deep, but ragged breaths. You now noticed the redness around his eyes and the wetness on his cheeks. Worry paved a little clarity in the lustful fog dominating your head. 

“Cruel bastard,” you found yourself snarling back, in spite of the seed of worry Wei Ying’s image planted deep inside you. Before even the last syllable left your lips, Wei Ying had his hand tight around your cock and stroked, drawing a guttural groan from you. “That’s not enough, I need more,” you breathed out at the torture that was the grip of Wei Ying’s hand. It felt good, but his omega hole had felt so much better.

“And I need more preparation, I am not in heat,” Wei Ying huffed back as he reached behind himself. You could hear the wet squelch of him fingering himself and it drove you into a frenzy. You demanded being released, so you could once more claim your omega, but Wei Ying did not release you. He let you cum with his hand. Once he needed a better angle to shove more fingers inside, he switched his hand for his mouth, so he could support himself with one hand while he tried to shove his whole fist inside. His mouth felt better than his hand, but you already had had a taste of paradise and this was not it. 

“You’re open enough, please, I feel like I’ll die,” you whined, shortly after you covered Wei Ying in your fourth load. No matter how often you came, it would not be enough until you knotted the omega in front of you. Wei Ying seemed to take mercy on you and he turned around. Wei Ying lowered himself onto your cock. The mercy got you moaning. You could see where you entered him as he bounced on your cock, his hole gripping your length visibly. “Yes, you feel so good omega,” you moaned as he rode your fat length. “Release me and I’ll pound you so good. I will knot you and fill you with my cum and then pound you again.” Wei Ying gasped, a hand moving to his cock to stroke it. The smell of his slick as it dripped down your cock was intoxicating. 

“Gēge, you talk so indecently when you’re in a rut.” You wanted to pin him down and fuck him so bad when he called you ‘gēge’ and Wei Ying seemed to know. The glint in his eyes as he shot you a look over his shoulder was quite telling. “But I’m afraid gēge will break me if I release him. Gēge is such a strong alpha and I’m just a frail omega,” he spoke dramatically, knowing fully well he was far from a frail omega. His words would have made you cringe were it not for the fact you were in a full-on rut. The idea, the thought, the image of him being so fragile and breakable and at your mercy suddenly got something flowing in you. The feeling was unfamiliar, as was the strength it brought. 

You had no mind to think about it, but enough instinct to use it. With this new-found energy, you broke yourself free from whatever was holding you in place and grabbed Wei Ying by the back of his neck. A hard shove and Wei Ying was face down, ass up on the ground with your cock plunging into his wet hole. “Maybe they are right, the Yiling Patriarch is cruel,” you drew a loud moan from the man below you with a hard thrust, “and evil.” 

Wei Ying did not move from where you had him. Instead, he took your punishing pace with the prettiest moans you ever had the honour of hearing. His voice filled the tent with a symphony of pleasure, which only grew louder when you pressed inside and your knot slipped in. Wei Ying screamed in pleasure and pain as you slotted the two of you together and filled him up with your hot seed. 

Still, it was not enough. He was beautiful, had the most breedable body you ever laid eyes upon. How could it be enough to only fill his slick hole once?You only stilled for a minute inside of him, before you pulled out until the knot pulled painfully at the inside of his rim. Then, you pushed back inside, as deep as you could go. Wei Ying whined as you fucked him like that, the knot dragging against his walls and drawing out the melody of pain mixed with pleasure. He moaned and screamed about how he was stretched to the limit, but there was no urgency in his voice this time. 

Everything was a blur from there. Somewhere between rutting inside him and fucking him with your knot, Wei Ying had gone near-silent. His ass had become so open that your knot no longer served its purpose of keeping you inside as you spilled your seed. You didn’t know how many rounds you went, how often you filled the Yiling Patriarch with your load or how often the omega came himself. In one final mind-blurring explosion of pleasure, you passed out. Whether it was on top of him or if you managed to fall beside him was out of your control. 

When you woke up, however, you found Wei Ying on top of you. The smell of sex still hung heavy in the air, mixed with pheromones, both alpha and omega. A groan left your dry throat as you lifted your head to take a look at the man to whom you were indebted with your life, twice. He looked like he was not going to wake up for another 100 years. You tried to brush the hair out of his face, but your fingers got tangled in the silk black strands. Guilt filled your heart at the sight of bruises on his hips and sides. A respectful look down revealed there was still cum dripping out of his hole. 

You untangled yourself from him. It took you a good hour to get Wei Ying cleaned up and placed on a clean towel; the straw mat was completely ruined. You had him on his side, still sleeping peacefully, while you tried to comb the tangles carefully out of his hair. You were almost done when you noticed him stir. “Wei Ying?” You called out softly, hand shooting for the waterskin. You held it to his lips. “Don’t move; drink first.” To your surprise, he obeyed. He tried to sit up, but winced. You took the hint and helped him sit on your lap, the gap between your legs perfect for his ass to rest between with no pressure on it. “I’m sorry. I lost control.” 

Wei Ying blinked at you and then reached for the jar of wine in the corner. You chuckled and handed it to him, still cradling him close. He took a few gulps, before speaking up. “I thought I would die,” he pouted in a somewhat playful way that gave you conflicted emotions about his words. “Gēge, you were such a monster. Next time, I will use a stronger talisman to keep you down.”

You inhaled sharply. ‘Next time’, he had said. You licked your dry lips and nodded, agreeing with him. A signature smile painted the omegas lips, before he snuggled closer to you. “Gege is adorable when he is worried about me. I’ll be fine, I swear. Just don’t make me do anything for a few days.” You let out an empty laugh, relieved and still worried. Another nod as you put a hand on his head, holding it close to your shoulder. You twisted your head, placing a kiss upon Wei Ying’s temple. He hummed happily and closed his eyes. 

“Wei Ying! You need to eat before you go back to sleep!” 

[darkisrising]

BobaDinLuke bdsm fic, by DarkIsRising

Can’t decide if this is something to continue or if this is as far as it goes. So, I’m just gonna dub it a Tumblr fic for now. If it picks up steam then I’ll add to it, edit it, and throw it onto ao3. CW: Very very spicy, bdsm, a host of other stuff probably but rest assured everything here is consensual.

They meet at a sex party, which in hindsight shouldn’t be a surprise. It’s just about the only time Luke can be talked out of leaving the house these days.

He shows up in a hood that hides his features save for somber brown eyes and the plush spread of his lips; the black latex so shiny that Luke can just about see his own reflection in it. He wears leather like a second skin and even without being able to make out a single feature on his face, save those eyes and lips, or a single detail of his body, save his exposed cock, he is the most beautiful man Luke’s ever seen.

Luke, of course, is naked. His knees are hitched up to his chest, held there by his own arms that he knows better than to lower, and the words Load Count are scrawled in extra wide Sharpie from one nipple to the other. He’s already gone two rounds and there’s two lines beneath the words to show for it. Boba’s turn came first, of course. It was his privilege as Luke’s dom and he'd taken it with one finger hooked around the collar that marked Luke as his. And then after Boba there had been a guy that Luke hadn’t recognized with a nice enough cock and a regrettable tribal tattoo across his shoulder.

There’s something about this third man that gives Luke pause. Something in the way he takes his place at Luke’s ass— something so hesitant and careful and precise and apologetic as he pulls himself hard enough to sink into Luke’s body— that is awfully endearing. Luke wishes he could tell him it’s okay. That he’s here because he likes doing this sort of thing. That his dom is somewhere nearby, watching from the shadowed corners of the room, to make sure that despite all the calls to wreck that twink’s ass and fuck him up! and do it so hard he won’t be able to walk no one actually does anything that Luke isn’t into.

He can’t, of course, because his mouth is where Boba’s left the Sharpie, a neat solution since the last time they’d played this game the Sharpie had been lost to the dungeon’s dark and sticky floor within the first five minutes. Instead he tries to show it with a widening of his eyes and an encouraging grunt for every tiny thrust he gives as he fucks inside of Luke, the wet from lube and release slicking his way. When he’s all the way in he rests for a moment and it feels like the kind of moment that Luke could live a lifetime in for the way he meets Luke’s eyes, the way his gloved thumb reaches down to rest against Luke’s chin, the way he stretches Luke’s ass with just the right amount of cock to set the base of his spine sparking, but not so much that Luke’s worried he’ll be split in two. 

“Ready?” he asks and his voice is so low it very nearly gets lost to all the moans and groans and demands for more that writhe like eels through the air. His eyes gleam dark in the dim dungeon and Luke can’t look away. He nods, entranced, and for the first time that night Luke’s not thinking about all the men that are going to follow, he’s only thinking about the one that’s inside of him. 

I want to kiss him. The thought hits him— blinding as a bolt of sunlight that’s been hidden behind a cloud— and it’s the most that Luke’s wanted something so chaste in so long he doesn’t know what to do with it. Not that he has many options in this position with a Sharpie clenched between his teeth. All he can do is stare at this man’s lips and yearn with an intensity that carves into his chest as this man’s cock carves into his ass and Luke can’t say of the two sensations which is more intimate. 

“You’re so tight,” the man rasps out and Luke can’t stop himself from clenching down, his hips jerking at the compliment. It’s something he’s heard a million times from countless, faceless other men, but oh the way this man says it makes him flush all over.

It’s over before Luke’s really ready, but one glance over the man’s shoulder and Luke can see a line is forming. Usually it would make him hard in anticipation, to see so many that want to use him and fill him until he’s leaking. This time he wishes he could have more time with just this one.

The man takes the marker out from between Luke’s teeth and Luke wishes he’d replace it with two of his leather-covered fingers. He doesn’t, though, only marks a line on Luke’s chest and then in the same soft, sincere way he’d told Luke he was tight says “Thank you,” and in that moment Luke is pretty sure he’d do just about anything for this man. 

Which is a terrifying, thrilling thought. And a dangerous one, seeing as his rash, unchecked impulsiveness is why he needs a guy like Boba to keep him in line to begin with. 

Before the man can cap the Sharpie again, Luke darts to snatch it out of his hand. The weighted shape of Boba coming out from the shadows, called forward by this change of script.

Luke ignores him. He ignores the line of waiting men stroking themselves hard as they watch Luke with interest as he grabs this man’s hand.

“May I?” Luke asks in as submissive a voice he can muster, and Boba would be so surprised to hear it come out so easily, but Luke can behave when he wants to. Most of the time. “Please, sir,” he adds when the man says nothing.

A slight incline of his head is all the answer he gives, and Luke wastes no time in peeling away his brown leather glove. He writes out his cell number as clearly as he can with a marker that’s a little too thick for it and then, when he’s done, he holds that brown gaze as he bends down to blow the ink dry. 

“Thank you, sir,” Luke husks, heart beating wildly. The man doesn’t say anything back, he only takes his glove and works it back down over his hand and then he’s gone, swallowed by the dark.

“Is there a problem?” a voice growls near Luke’s ear. Tugging on the collar around his neck brings Luke’s attention to Boba’s familiar, scarred frown.

“No, sir,” Luke says, turning his face into Boba’s neck, nuzzling in, but Boba steps away, keeping him at arm’s length.

“That’s only for good boys that finish what they start. Are you going to finish what you started, little one?” It’s a warning as clear as the shake of a rattlesnake’s tail: dangerous and low.

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

Two hands take Luke by the shoulders and lay him back down. The marker is plucked from his hands and recapped with a snap. “How many loads have you had tonight?”

“Three, sir.”

“And how many did we agree you’d take?” Boba asks, catching Luke beneath his knees, hoisting them back up against his chest and into position. 

Luke shivers, as the humid air meets the wet of his hole, breathing cold, while the hot, hungry gazes of the waiting men meet among the slick. “Eight, sir.”

“Then get to it.” The Sharpie is slid back between his teeth and then Boba’s hands are winding through his hair, pulling just enough to bring a jolt of pain. Luke’s breath catches in his throat. “No distractions this time.”

Soon enough another guy is penetrating Luke, brought forward by Boba’s commanding nod. He’s rocking into Luke, fucking him with an intensity that makes a dull thwack every time their bodies meet. The next guy is huge, so big that Luke has to bite down on the plastic hull of the marker in his mouth to keep from screaming. Tears squeeze from Luke’s eyes, wrested out with every incredible thrust in. Luke loses track after that. The pain becoming pleasure, the pleasure never quite becoming enough to spill over into satisfaction, only transforming into something else. Something intense and terrible and blessed and more. The men change, the girths and lengths that hold him open and fuck him apart change, and Luke takes them all.

Through it all Boba stays where he is, supervising with an unforgiving hand in Luke’s hair, the pain a constant that Luke can depend on, focus on, until it becomes awash with a dull, glowing haze. This is what he’s here for—  this feeling— this euphoria where he’s horribly small and he’s unfathomably large, together. He’s an object to be used and discarded. He’s more precious, more vital, more necessary than he can comprehend. 

A kiss on his forehead cuts through the fog, and Luke realizes he’s not being fucked anymore for all that he can still feel a phantom grinding between his cheeks. His fingers are made to unclench from where they’ve dug like claws onto his flesh and his legs are lowered. The wet mess that’s been left to leak out of him is a turn-on but even that is a distant thing. There’s no immediacy to it, no driving need to slack his lust, just a thrum of appreciation for this proof that every man that’s had him tonight has left behind.

Drawing him in, Boba cups the back of his head until Luke’s pressed into the cradle of Boba’s neck. He was denied this privilege earlier. Now it’s being freely given. The difference sets him shaking, or maybe that’s just the come-down.

“That was good.” Boba’s voice is a rumble that Luke can feel through the places they are pressed together. The steady jump of Boba’s pulse is calming against the bow of his lips and Luke closes his eyes to savor it.

Time gets away from him again, and somehow he’s been cleaned enough to stuff his legs into pants and a warm sweatshirt is pulled over his head. The black hood comes up, as good as blinders on a horse, and then he’s led out to where there are sofas and water and people speaking soft as a passing brook.

The lip of a water bottle is pressed to his mouth and Luke obediently drinks from it without thinking. Boba sits in a plush armchair and though he’s shorter than Luke, there’s so much of him that Luke can curl into his lap and disappear behind the safe, steel beams of his muscular arms. 

“Your boy did good out there,” Fennec says, dropping into a nearby seat and Boba’s agreement is another rumble for Luke to savor with his eyes closed. “I haven’t seen you two in months, I was surprised to see you came out for this.”

There’s a question in her words, a careful line to walk between curiosity and concern, that normally sends Luke into a tailspin in the outside world. Here, though, he isn’t Luke Skywalker: wounded veteran and broken hero. He’s a pet— Boba’s pet— and he lets his dom navigate the social interaction while he sinks deeper into his embrace.

To Boba’s credit, he makes no mention of the malaise that’s grabbed hold of Luke lately, pinning him to the bed and keeping him there for days. Instead he huffs a harsh laugh. “Yeah, well. Maybe if Fortuna hadn’t turned this place into such a shithole we’d be over more.”

“Can’t argue with that. Say what you like about Jabba, but at least things weren’t always breaking on his watch. Did you hear about the ceiling that collapsed a month ago? When someone was in the sling, too.”

“Oh, shit.” Boba says and then they are off, trading gossip and wry quips. Luke is content to close his eyes and listen, secure that the only thing he needs to do is exactly what he’s doing right now. Every now and then Boba strokes his back through the thick cotton of his hoodie or turns to nuzzle at Luke’s temple, and every time Luke’s contentment spreads thick like molasses.

He surfs this subspace all the way back home where he lets Boba get him clean and dressed in pajama pants and poured into bed. The last thing he does is release the buckle on Luke’s collar and then, with one final squeeze to the scruff of Luke’s neck, the scene is over.

“How are you doing? Want me to grab the ibuprofen?”

“Nah, it’s not that bad,” Luke answers, shifting so that the ache in his ass becomes a little more noticable. “Been awhile since I did anything like that.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Was proud of you, though.” There’s a chair by the bed and Boba sits there, staying close but careful to give Luke his space now that they’re done for the night. “That’s two more than the last time you took on a train.”

“Mmm,” Luke agrees lazily. The writing on his chest hadn’t totally come off in the bath, and he pushes his blanket down enough to trace the lines on his chest, lingering on the third one.

“Wanna tell me what that was all about with number three?”

Number three. He of the shiny latex mask and the deep brown eyes and the lips that Luke can almost feel against his own for how much he’d wanted them to be. It’s enough that he almost asks Boba to bring him his phone so that he can wait around like a lovelorn teen for a call or a text, but he’s still coasting enough on endorphins from earlier that he doesn’t want to completely tank his chance at sleep by keeping vigil over the glow of a phone screen all night.

“Not really,” Luke admits at last. “Wasn’t anything bad,” and Boba accepts that with a nod.

“Fine. Keep your secrets. Let me know if it becomes anything I need to worry about.”

“Always.”

Boba stands to leave, a lumbering swing to the motion that Luke knows means his prosthetic is giving him problems, but he knows better than to mention it. “Don’t worry about making breakfast tomorrow. Sleep in. I’m in meetings all morning, anyway.”

“Yeah, okay.”

When Luke closes his eyes, the ache from his over-used, well-fucked body is finally enough to quiet his demons. For once, sleep is swift as death, and just as inescapable.

[clotpolesonly]

First Is The Worst

for the Stiles Shipping Central discord monthly ficlet exchange, and @asarcasticwitch​!! first time fail sex for Sterek, though tbh it’s like 80% bickering and 20% sex, lmao

| Sterek | E | 1k | First Time | Blow Jobs | Premature Ejaculation | Banter |

(also on AO3)

--

Stiles tripped over the threshold of his own bedroom. In his defense, he had a slab of hot, muscular werewolf pressed up against him and gnawing on his neck, so his feet weren’t getting a whole lot of his attention.

Derek kept him from hitting the floor, at least. “You’re a disaster, you know that?”

“Oh yeah?” Stiles tugged Derek closer by the shirt and kicked the door shut behind him. “Well, you’re still here, so—”

“Don’t make me question my life choices before I’ve even finished making them.”

Stiles snorted and kissed the judgy look off his stupidly handsome face. He would’ve made a pithy comment, but Derek was hoisting him up like he weighed nothing and that little show of strength distracted him a bit. 

Then Derek was throwing him. He hit the bed, which was probably the goal, but his head also hit the wall with a decent thunk. Stiles let out a stream of curses. Derek was already halfway out of his clothes, snickering.

“Laugh it up, fucker,” Stiles muttered. “See if I suck your dick after this.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Quit whining, you big baby.” He ran his fingers through Stiles’ hair, though, and the dull throb ebbed. “See? You’re fine. Now, are you going to get naked or not?”

Still grumbling, Stiles yanked his shirt off over his head and began wiggling his way out of his jeans. When he almost ended up on the floor, he started thinking it might not have been the best idea to wear his tightest pair when he was hoping to get laid. They looked great on, but the removal process left something to be desired. Derek almost took a knee to the foot before Stiles was fully liberated, which elicited more swearing from both of them.

Kissing got them back on an even keel. They were good at kissing! They should have been kissing for months by now, but they were dumb and stubborn, and it had taken a night of clubbing and copious jealousy-inducing groping from drunken strangers to get them to this point. There had been some dancing, some fighting, and (finally) some sappy shit in the alley behind Sinema that would’ve made a Hallmark movie cringe. And don’t get him wrong, Stiles loved the sappy shit! It had been very warm and fuzzy and satisfying, not to mention long overdue. Now, though, they were men on a mission, and that mission was to make up for lost time.

Derek pressed Stiles down into the bed, a sinuous motion of his hips making Stiles’ brain melt a little. He was so distracted by the delicious friction of skin on skin, it took him a minute to register it when Derek nipped at his ear and growled, “Gonna fuck you so good.”

Reluctantly but with some urgency, Stiles tugged him back by the hair. “Wait, why do you automatically assume I’m gonna bottom? Do I just look that much like a twink?”

Derek raised his eyebrows, head waggling back and forth.

With a noise of outrage, Stiles squirmed his way out from under him. “Way to stereotype me, Derek! Real classy. You can’t know my sexual preferences just by looking at me! I thought you knew better than to make assumptions based on—”

“Oh my god, fine,” Derek groaned. He threw himself down onto the bed, legs akimbo. “If it’ll make you stop bitching, I’ll bottom. Get the lube.”

Stiles froze. Partly because the sight of Derek Hale sprawled out and touching himself in naughty places could stop traffic any day of the week. And partly because… 

“…Do you seriously not have lube?”

“I have lube!” Stiles yanked open his bedside drawer. Rummaging turned up three empty bottles and a whole lot of tissues. “Okay, so I may have used it all.”

“Stiles!”

“Look, I have a healthy appetite for self pleasure and very bad resource management skills, you can’t blame me for—”

“Just shut up and suck my dick.”

Stiles made sure to knee Derek in the side as he clambered into position. The dick in question was of moderate size, but it still managed to jab Stiles in the tonsils on his first attempt. Stiles gagged hard enough that Derek actually looked concerned.

“As you may have guessed,” Stiles wheezed, waving him off, “I’ve never done this before.”

Derek snorted and fell back against the pillows. “Well, don’t hurt yourself.”

Stiles ignored him. His second attempt was much better anyway. Passable, even, judging by the way Derek rocked up into his mouth with a stuttered moan. He pulled Stiles’ hair too, which Stiles thought was rude until he realized it wasn’t just a bossy thing but an attempt to warn him. A second later, he had a throatful of salty bitterness. He pulled off, coughing, just to get the rest of Derek’s cum splattered on his face. Stiles wiped it off gingerly.

“Thanks for that,” he said, smacking his lips; on second thought, the taste wasn’t that bad. “What was that, thirty seconds? Who’s the disaster now, huh?”

Derek had his arm thrown over his face. His ears were pink, though. Stiles let his forehead thunk down onto Derek’s stomach, a laugh bubbling up in him that doubled with the oof the impact earned him. Derek unearthed himself from his elbow to grin sheepishly down at him.

“I’m willing to admit that we’re both disasters.”

Stiles propped his chin up on Derek’s hip and hummed thoughtfully. “You don’t sound too put out about that. But then, you’re not the one who still hasn’t gotten to come yet, so—”

Derek yanked Stiles up the bed and kissed him before he could finish his complaint. His hand found its way to Stiles’ cock, too dry and too rough and somehow still fantastic.

“We can fix that,” he said against Stiles’ lips. “And besides, practice makes perfect, doesn’t it?”

Stiles was too busy getting his dick sucked to reply, but he thought Derek was probably right.

[bunny-slasher]

Ok.

I love y'all so much and this isn't to flame anyone,

But!!

Billy lenz is at least a decently muscular person.

(Also probably hairy but that's just given the time he was around in)

I love how most of you draw him!! I find it very lovely!!

Let me briefly explain why I'm saying all this in the first place.

In the 1974 movie, we know that Billy has:

· climbed into and out of the attic-a two story building mind you- at least three times (the first time he went up into the attic, if we believe the girl being stabbed in the park is him, and if we believe the police officer who was stabbed was also him)

· dragged Clare dane's body up into the attic (aka most likely doing a fireman's carry or something similar while making sure he can use at least one hand to pull the pair up. Yes, Clare is a very small girl, but carrying someone and trying to pull yourself up vertically is tough.)

· hoisted Mrs. Mac up fully into the attic by the hook (which is an easier feat, sure, but it still requires some strength.)

Basically, this man is (realistically speaking) not a little,"uwu soft twink boy". He is strong and I'd love to see more people interpret him as being strong!!

I find it very endearing that y'all interpret him the way you do, but I'd love to see more interpretations of him being strong!!!

[the1918]

Can we get some more of the size difference between buck and stevie in the farmer verse? I saw in the international kissing day series (love that I be by the way) that’s there’s obvs a big difference in width and probs height but can we get some more fluff and smut abt this? Thank u so so so much! I love uuuuu

[Psst I went back and read my own stuff (sometimes you gotta do that, okay?) and realized that I’ve said many times in asks that FarmBaby Bucky is a 5′6″ twink. But before I ever said that, in part iv.b I said that Steve is four inches taller than him. But since Farmer Steve is canon post-serum Steve and is therefore 6′2″, that means that Steve should actually be eight inches taller than Bucky. I went back and revised part iv.b lol.]

Farmer Daddy Steve and FarmBaby Bucky are my personal ode to size difference kink. Steve has eight inches and at least 60 pounds of muscle on Bucky and Bucky loves it. Steve loves it, too; he’s never been with someone that much smaller than him, never had the chance to really manhandle a lover, and I think it hits on a latent desire of his that goes all the way back to when he was a larger-than-life little spitfire in the 40s. And combined with Steve’s super soldier strength... oof.

Fluff and smut, you say?

Steve carrying Bucky around like a rag doll just to mess with him, to hear him laugh. They’ll be finishing up with the chickens, Bucky dusting off of his hands and looking proud of his job well-done, Steve will grab the 50-lb bag of feed in one hand and while sweeping Bucky clear off the ground with the other, arm wrapping around Bucky’s waist and hoisting him up easily, making him fit perfectly on Steve’s hip, delighting in Bucky’s laughter and squeals of protest as Steve hauls everything he needs back on up to the shed.

Bucky having to strain his neck upward and get on his tippy toes for kisses and it’s still not enough, Steve still has to lean down

Bucky walking around in Steve’s huge flannel shirts (some denim button-ups, too), the bottom hem hanging around his knees, Steve’s brain short-circuiting every time because 1) he knows Bucky is wearing nothing else but his own briefs and 2) forget ‘kept’— Bucky looks owned.

Steve sheepishly rearranging the contents of his kitchen cabinets right after Bucky first comes to stay because he realizes that Bucky can’t reach half of the glasses and plates

Steve wrapping just one muscular arm around the whole of Bucky’s midsection while he’s grinding his thick cock inside of him, filling him up good, and then he’s pulling them up and just... standing, carrying both of them upright and off the bed with ease like he isn’t holding another full-grown man in his arms and fucking up into— no, fucking Bucky down onto his dick while he’s got two feet on the ground and Bucky has none.

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves]

We need some Ultra Magnus/Side Burn content and you KNOW it. I know you’re thirsty for that red car loving sunshine of a twink, the only one who’s more thirsty than you is UM himself. The dude literally knows how his bf whines, ig he’s not hearing it for the first time. Okay but really thought, saw you hurt yourself and it hurts for you to write, so just wanna say I hope u get better soon! Love reading your stuff, your headcanons are just 💯🔥

First of all. How DARE you be concerned for my well-being in such a way??You're a fucking bitch, i love you, shove a cactus up your ass, here's some side burn and Magnus shit for your thirsty ass. Cunt.

"Magnus!!!!"

"Will you quit your whining?"

Side Burn only whined further the more Magnus pushed his head down into the pillow below him. Side Burn was annoying, needy, but damn he handled a spike like no one's business. Everyone on the team had a mission, leaving Side Burn and Magnus alone. It was a rare occurrence, and Magnus knew he was going to make the most of it.

"Pleeeease?! I've been here for hours and-"

"It's been twenty minutes."

"It FEELS like hours!"

For the past five 'hours', Side Burn had been bitching and moaning for his overload. Magnus COULD let him overload, since he knew he'd have plenty more rounds left in him, but he knew he could hold it. Having him wait always made for a better overload. Besides, he was whining, but he wasn't BEGGING.

"You're not ready yet."

"Like hell I'm n-ahh!"

Side Burn lost his train of thought as Magnus pushed himself fully inside. Magnus could play this boy like a fiddle. You think it'd make him boring, but damn did it make him come back for more. He kept his toy stuffed as he grabbed at the back of his neck.

"There we go. Good little twerp, staying quiet when I make you."

He pulled himself out, just a little, and Side Burn whined into his pillow. It was so pitiful, Magnus had to yell at himself to not fuck him senseless.

"And making noise when I let you."

"Magnussss!!! You know I hate it when you talk like that!"

He knew why. That tone meant his poor spike was in pain, desperate for an overload. He could've been nicer, but that was the good part about Side Burn. He was desperate and needy enough to give him what he wanted.

And Magnus loved soldiers who obeyed. 

"You're such a brat. Under me, whining for a chance to make a mess under MY sheets."

Ultra Magnus took a hold of his face, turning him to get a look at his face. He felt himself throb at seeing such a pathetic face, optics laced in lust. Ultra Magnus watched as his panting, drooling mouth leaned forward, and slowly enveloped his thumb. His lips took him in slowly, as if he was savoring his taste. Magnus felt his thumb hit the back of his intake before he slowly pulled away, panting like a mutt in heat.

"Pretty pretty PLEASE Magnus?"

He knew those fallen shoulders, knew that lip bite, and most importantly, that tone. That 'if you let me overload, I SWEAR I'll be tight enough for you' whine. Magnus clicked his glossa, before sitting down and hoisting Side Burn onto his lap. Side Burn held onto Magnus's hand as they clung to his hips, and Magnus finally gave it to him. He pounded into his valve, forcing Side Burn to cry out in ecstasy.

"And what do we say, twinkie?"

"T-thank you! Thank you, SO much, Magnus-chan!"

Call Magnus weird, but 'Magnus-chan' always did something to him. It was enough to ride Side Burn all through his overload, and within kliks, Magnus followed suit. He held onto his hips firmly enough to put dents in him, and gritted his dentae as he overloaded. He felt his spike throb at each pump of fluid, and watched as Side Burn twitched every time. Once Side Burn could think, he pulled Magnus's face close, and pressed his lips against his. It was a firm, eager kiss that Magnus couldn't help but accept it, groaning. Magnus was contemplating another round, when he heard a voice through the other side of the door.

"Magnus? Could you join us, please?"

"I'm busy fucking."

"I'm...sorry?"

"I said I'm FUCKING busy, so shove it up your-"

"Mag chan~"

Ugh. He scowled as Side Burn lightly tapped his cheek.

"Don't be mean, go help your bro. He needs you, just like I do. Please?"

"Ugh. God you're a fucking whiner. FINE. Optimus, leave, I'll join you in a second."

He listened to Optimus walk away, before Side Burn chuckled, kissing his cheek.

"There we go, grumpy."

“Punk.”

[babbushka]

Baby, It’s Cold Outside

Charlie Barber x Reader ; 2k

The party had been achingly wonderful. You’d never seen his house so filled with warmth, with light – and you’d been over a dozens and dozens of, in the past few years that you’ve known him, have known Charlie.

The place was packed with all his theater friends, all the writing and directing and acting geniuses gracing the Broadway stage. And you, in the middle of it all, were enthralled, were so glad for the opportunity to schmooze and laugh and cheers with your peers. You’d talked scripts, screenplays, plays and movies, award shows and bullshit critics, and you’d done it all with the pleasant warmth of food in your belly and a drink in your hand.

He had really gone all out, you think once the party had begun to die down. The string lights were twinking a soft white, the fireplace cracking loudly, the tree all lit up red and gold. Henry had helped decorate it before flying to Los Angeles to spend the holiday with Nicole who had just moved there. There were tapered candles lit and softly melting, wax hot and dripping on the silver plates that were there to catch the drops so the tabletops weren’t ruined. He always was thinking one step ahead, your Charlie.

That thought, the your Charlie, sent a soft bloom of fondness through your chest. All night he’d been making eyes at you, dark and glittering with more emotions than you could probably parse. All night he’d been smiling at you from across the room, face half-hidden in his cup of eggnog. All night he’d been making as many excuses as possible to find his way next to you, to make you laugh, to make you pay attention to him and only him.

It was a secret, of course. The affair.

That’s where the ache came in, didn’t it? The urge to be close to him. The war of being close but not too close, to smile but not smile too much, to look but not stare. It wouldn’t do to make anyone suspicious, wouldn’t do to draw attention. It was a bittersweet kind of atmosphere, wanting to hold and be held, but not able to.  

Except now…now the party had wound down to just the two of you. You had insisted on staying to help clean up. You didn’t need to catch a cab or a train, you only lived just next door – so of course you would stay and help.

And there was a tension there, a silent tension, as you stacked up all the red solo cups, threw them away. The two of you trying to wait, trying to wait in case someone forgot something at his house before they left, in case a neighbor wanted to drop by, in case in case in case.

So there was the tension, two of you dancing around one another as you walked around and turned off the lights in all the rooms no one was in, because you know how much Charlie hates wasting electricity. As you brush past him to bring the leftovers to the kitchen, wrap them in silver foil and stack them in the fridge so he’d have something to eat later. As you put on your coat and head for the door, casting a look over your shoulder.

He looks at you, and you look back at him, and you chew your lip when you tell him, “I really can’t stay.”

He nearly drops what he’s holding and crosses the room in three long strides, slides his arms around yours, and you melt into the embrace. You rest your head on his shoulder for a moment, looking up at him through your thick lashes. He knows, knows what you’re doing.

You’re grateful he’s going to play along.

“But baby, it’s cold outside.” He whispers, licks his lips.

You love it when he calls you baby, when he says it like that. Like it’s the easiest thing in the world to call you, the most natural thing.

And wasn’t it?

You try and suppress the ghost of a smile that’s threatening to spread across your mouth, but you fail. You fail as you turn in his embrace, and smooth your hands up the soft sweater he wears. It was terrible, red and green and white with little gold bells and ribbon bows stitched into the fabric. You had bought him that sweater, had told him that everyone should have something ugly and tacky to wear for a Christmas party.

“Yes, but I’ve got to go away.” You explain, not making one motion to step away from him.

“But…it’s cold outside.” He reiterates and you do grin then, grin bright and wide, as his arms wind around your waist and pull you ever closer.

“This evening has been – ” You start, pulling away for a moment to look for your keys.

“I was hoping you’d drop in – ” He says, and now he’s smiling too, he’s walking into the kitchen for a moment.

“—So very nice.” You continue, finding them. You had placed them in the little dish on the table by the door, and you can’t help but think that they look so good there, next to Charlie’s keys.

You wondered if it was the holiday atmosphere or something else, that made you emotional over that. Charlie sees in your face how you’re getting choked up, choked up over something as simple as two keys in a dish, and he comes to your side with two glasses of champagne from the kitchen.  

He hands you one and when your fingers touch, he gasps, gives you a big toothy smile that makes you want to kiss him.

“Here, let me hold your hand, they’re just like ice!” He hisses dramatically, takes your hand in his.

It’s then that you realize the curtains are open, and anyone on the street could see. You immediately pull him away, pull him down the main hallway where no one would be able to look in, no one would be able to know this is what the two of you get up to.

What will the two you get up to?

“The neighbors might think…” You explain with a chuckle, and he waves it off.

“Oh, but it’s so bad out there.” He says sarcastically, nodding to the softly falling snow that’s barely sticking to the manicured lawn outside.

You laugh too loud at that, a nervous giggle that shakes your body as he pulls you in close in the dark of the hallway. You feel dizzy, feel dizzy in the best way, lightheaded with love and giddiness.

“Say, what’s in this drink?” You tease taking a whiff of the champagne, but he frowns.

“That’s not funny.” He tucks a bit of hair behind your ear, warms his palm on your cheek.

You look up into his eyes and see the softness there, and suddenly it’s all too much and not nearly enough at the same time.

“I wish I knew how…” You sigh, nuzzling into his embrace for a moment. Your back is resting against the wall of the hallway, and he’s standing between your legs, your stomachs practically pressing together with how close you are, and soon the nuzzling turns into kissing his palm, “To break this spell.”

“Give me your hat, your hair looks swell.” He whispers, sliding your coat off of your shoulders and taking off the wool beret you had worn, a festive thing that matched your dress.

“I ought to say ‘no, no, no, sir.’” You grin, blush and bat your eyelashes, being teasing, playful.

“Mind if I move in closer?” He asks as he braces his arms against the wall, caging you between them.

And you decide to play with him a little longer, so you duck out from under his arm and laugh with another, “I gotta get home!”

You try, but Charlie chases you, chases you and spills his champagne in the process, chases you and grabs you around your middle, hoists you up in a way that makes you laugh and laugh and laugh, like he were some great fireman and you were in need of rescue.

Maybe you think, as he sets you down on the couch and closes the curtains, maybe you were.

“You’d freeze out there.” He shakes his head, hiding your outerwear in the closet by the door.

“So lend me your coat.” You challenge and he scoffs.

“It’s up to your knees out there!” He makes up, points to the window.

There absolutely wasn’t even an inch of snow yet, not yet. But you knew that, and he knew that you knew that, and you settle into the couch anyway, settle in further, taking another sip of champagne. That dizzy warm bubbly feeling spreads through your whole body in the most pleasant way, and time feels like it’s standing still.

What time even was it?

“There’s bound to be talk tomorrow.” You roll your eyes and smirk, beckon him forward with a crook of your finger as you slip your heels off of your feet.

Charlie didn’t like shoes on the couch, and you don’t blame him. He watches your movements carefully, watches as you rub your ankles together, toes probably going so so cold from being exposed to the air. He puts both his hands over his heart and gives you the most convincing heartbroken look you’d ever seen, a true actor.

“Think of my holiday sorrow – ” He starts, making his way back to you, following your finger, entranced by you.

Who was under the spell now?

“At least there will be plenty implied.” You wink, already envisioning the talk of the theater community tomorrow. Surely there’d be gossip, surely there’d be theories. There were already theories, and ones that weren’t unfounded.

“ – If you caught pneumonia and died.” Charlie continued, the thought of that being so absurd that your laugh rings brightly in the still warm air of the living room.

You open yourself up for him, let him fall on top of you on the couch. He’s heavy, a pleasant weight that’s sturdy, warm. He was always so warm, everything about him. From his smile and those dimples, to the chocolate of his eyes, those eyes which are so deep, so soulful.

It breaks your heart sometimes, all of this. The divorce.

You wondered how he was coping, this being the first Christmas without Henry and all. You wondered if he was coping at all, or if the party was a distraction, a means to have people in the house. The house was so empty these days.

Well, except for you.

“I really can’t stay.” You whisper once again, echoing the same sentiment from earlier, and not meaning it any one ounce more.

“Do you really still have doubts?” Charlie whispers back, and there it is, the act has dropped, and the real concern – that you really don’t want him, that you really don’t want this – has returned.

You chew the inside of your lip and cast a glance to the window, making sure the curtains are pulled nice and tight, making sure no one could see, no one could compromise this affair, this love that you shared. You card your fingers through his hair and sigh once more. You’re so content, you could live here like this, live in his embrace.

Maybe one day, one day when all this bullshit is over, you will.

“Oh baby, it’s cold outside.” You grin, and he knows he’s won then, knows it when you wind your arms around his neck, when you let your eyes close for him.

He smiles against you, smiles as he kisses you.  The snow falls, the children sleep, the trains run. But in the living room, on his couch (and soon in his bed), it is safe and you are so in love that nothing matters – nothing matters because Charlie loves you back.

And really, is was cold outside.

                                                    -----------

Tagging my Charlie lovin’ pals!  @driverficarchive​​    @adamsnackdriver​​ @dreamboatdriver​​ @kyloxfem​​ @solotriplets​​ @tinyplanet-explorers​​ @candycanes19​​ @callmehopeless​​ @kylo-renne​​ xsister-serpent @girlyisthatweirdkid phoebewalker04 @stylelovechild​​ @formerly-anonhamster​  @magikevalynn​​ @ccorleones @whiskey-bumblebee​ @scheherazades-horcrux​

[anne-markus]

Does bimboification count as tf/corruption? I have an insatiable weakness for cute twink-y boys getting turned helplessly dumb and slutty. Hope you're having a nice day! - 💗

"You there, fiend! I am Archibald IV, grandmaster arcanist, and I have come to- WOAH!" The boy's entire world went upside down. Or, more accurately, he did as his ankle was snagged by a vine that hoisted him up into the air, at the behest of his supposed quarry. The dryad woman, who'd simply stood there with a smirk as he started his spiel, chuckled, taking long, deliberate steps toward him. "D-Don't come any closer! I am an adept of fire magic, and you shall- wait, no, that's my staff! I need that!" Easily plucked away from his hands by another leafy apendage. He was now dangling from the air, unarmed and, for all intents and purposes, helpless in the monster's clutches. and he'd have made a damn racket about it too, if the woman didn't place a hand around his face, squeezing it tight.

"Well aren't you just the cutest little thing~? It is so nice of that adventurer's guild to think of sending me a gift! My, how to play with it first..." Weak fists thumped against the bark-like skin the dryad wore like armor, eliciting no reaction but a quiet giggle. "My, an active little one, aren't you? I supose we'll have to fix that... wouldn't want you hurting yourself, would we now? No, that just wouldn't do." And the monster crouched down, face to face with her victim, who looked positively enraged. Not that he could do much about it, really. "Close your eyes, now~"

Before he could even begin to formulate a retort, the woman had alright presented her palm upward, blowing on it and stirring tiny bits of pollen from her skin, flying in a small cloud, straight into his face, and into his nose. "Wh-What manner of foul conco- aah... aah-CHOO!" He sneezed, whole body rocking back and forth as it dangled from his branch. If he stayed like this too long, the blood would rush to his head. He had to think of a way to esc- aah-CHOO! To es... es... what was he just thinking about? He blinked, focusing back his foggy gaze on the dryad. Right! He had to defeat this monster and- and- aah-CHOO! And... wait, what came before the and? He was pretty sure stuff usually came before it... right? Anyway, where was he? And why was this pretty lady with hard skin taking off his robes? Something about that seemed somewhat concerning to Archibald. Maybe he should- aah-CHOO!

"There, there, much better now, no? You humans overthink things far too much, honestly. I already think for all the plants in my domain, so I don't mind thinking for you as well, okay Archie?" He was on the ground now, though the woman didn't think he realized it yet. Maybe she'd been a bit heavy-handed on the dosage. Already she could see the side-effects starting to act up, after all. The young mage wasn't at all bad looking, for a human, anyhow. The cutest little cheeks, an adorable pout as he kept sneezing his worries out, and, for as weak as he had been, his body wasn't entirely without tone, beneath the clothes she'd done away with. And for all his talk of needing his staff, the one he did have was more than respectable. Maybe. She wasn't too familiar with human standards. Regardless, it was that last point she'd need to focus on.

"Poor thing, my magic's got you all worked up, huh? It's not my fault your bodies are engineered so oddly... ah well, we should get that dealt with, shouldn't we, dear?" Archibald was, by now, only vaguely aware of the woman speaking. His mind was mostly a floating haze, and... something at the back of it told him this was bad, but he couldn't figure out why. It was... pleasant, like this. He could feel his shoulders relaxing for the first time in... in... some time. He didn't remember exactly. Really, as far as he could think of, he'd ALWAYS been tense. Now, he felt like was swinging through the air... oh. He was. Finally, he remembered that there was a world outside his own addled mind, and he checked up with his own senses just in time to realize that he was now suspended upright, by both wrists, and there was a mouth on his. Well, mouth. The lips were velvety-smooth, like petals, while the tongue that slowly danced with his had a rough, leaf-like quality to it. It was hard to focus on that when he could feel something else entirely down below... and... OH~

It felt amazing. That was just her hand, right? He didn't think hands were supposed to feel so... so... gnh, already? Already he was reaching a state he remembered well, even now, but never... never so INTENSE! The dryad parted their kiss, smiling down on him fondly as she kept pumping on his cock, a slow, steady rhythm to it with just the right amount o squeeze... of course, the way her own fluids interacted with humans, she knew anything he was feeling would be turned up to eleven. It wouldn't do to overwhelm the poor boy... yet. Oh, he was close, she could tell. Just a little push...

Archie was melting. He had to be. His body just felt so HOT, and he was on the edge of that peak of pleasure for... it felt like so long, but he knew it'd only been a few seconds at best. Every tiny tug on his cock sent another jolt through him, and all he could hope to do was even his breathing to stop himself from going lightheaded. And then, just when he knew he was about to finish... "Come on now, dear. You can do it~" The honeyed words seeped into his mind, absorbed by the spongey mush that was his brain at that moment. And he blanked out in bliss.

...

“More, dear?” The boy nodded frantically, breathing ragged and chest heaving up and down. The lazy smile now ever-present on his plush lips was once more parted by the vine that plunged into his throat, companion to the cup milking his cock relentlessly, though that one rarely left its spot. The dryad chuckled, gently stroking the boy’s hair as she watched him enjoy himself. If only all humans realized how good letting go might feel...

“You there, fiend! Release that boy this instant!” A tall woman, clad in shining silver armor and with a spear pointed at the monster, stood at the entrance to the clearing. The dryad simply smirked.