#he's a filthy edgelord

[lalunanymph]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 — sylus

୨୧ meeting him meant the end of your innocence and ignorance

✧.* warnings: suggestive, hunter/prey dynamic, sylus has issues™, mentions of death, mentions of blood, making out, finger sucking, just sylus being a tease

✧.* this my chemical romance edgelord looking ass evil man has got me by the cl!t </3 i cant stop the sylus brainrot help

The sole of your mud-splattered boot splashes into a puddle of filthy water, soaking the hem of your Hunters’ pants. 

Hot breaths spill from your parted lips, and you glance back, full of panic, trying and failing to catch the barest hint of a shadowy figure spilling closer towards you.

Nothing.

But, that doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods yet. 

Doubling your speed, you tighten your grip on your gun, feeling the hard handle slipping between your clammy hands. 

“Damn it,” cursing under your breath, you make a sharp turn, and find yourself face-to-face with a wall. Using your Resonance, you feel for the potential threat, breaths rising and falling sharply as your watch beeps your coordinates back to your anxious teammates.

The second your whereabouts were exposed, you feared what the repercussions would be for allowing yourself to be drawn into such a risky mission. 

Captain Jenna has already warned you not once but twice for going after Onychinus on your own. 

Defying her once again, you fear it would be the last time you would ever hear her sharp words or firm tone. 

A crunch of leaves overhead startles you, and you swivel with your gun raised, eyes darting everywhere in the vicinity. The smell of rubbish burns through your nose, and coupled with the sharp sting of your sweat, it nearly makes you sick with nausea. 

Panic infuses through you, rendering you mute and unable to move when you hear a slow, dark chuckle emanating from the shadows.

He appears, dressed in all black, strands of silvery hair falling right into his deep eyes; your worst nightmare coming to life. 

“There you are,” he seems to purr, deep baritone dragging through each syllable; hammering in how defenseless and trapped you were. “I never thought I’d ever see a day when a Hunter finally becomes the hunted.”

Sylus—head of Onychinus—approaches you with a slow smile spreading across his striking face. His tall stature and fitted clothes, in every shade of black you can imagine, is exacerbated by the crow perched right on his shoulder, its blood-red pupils widening at the scent of your fear. Despite the dangerous aura surrounding him, he could easily pass as a gentleman walking down the streets of Linkon City—eccentric and grinning. 

“You’ll never get away with this.” 

Your words, meant to be a threat, only serves to amuse him further. 

“Oh? Isn’t that what every good guy says?” Approaching you closer, he doesn’t pay any mind to the nozzle of your gun digging right into his chest. He knows you can’t shoot him; you still need your answers. “And then, inevitably, they all turn out to be wrong.”

A flash of red. Your arm seizes and goes limp, the gun in your hands tumbling to the ground; pained cries reverberating across the alleyway. The crow on his shoulder caws, flapping its wings in excitement. 

He grabs your face, digging his nails into the fat of your cheeks. “Pretty little hunter,” Sylus coos again, and this time, pushes you to your feet, controlling your movements with his Evol so you have no choice but to be the puppet at the end of his strings. 

Your legs spread without your consent, and your back meets the wall. 

Sylus watches, those sharp eyes ever mysterious and waiting. He doesn’t lunge or immediately savor your helplessness; letting you stew in your panic and loss of control. 

“Wh-wait,” you splutter. “Don’t do this—”

“Is this not what you were hungering for, my little hunter?” As he speaks, he advances towards you, every heavy footfall spiking fear in your chest. “You knew what you were getting yourself into when you tried to pursue me. So,” he stops in front of you, bending down close enough for his breath to touch your cheek. “Why the hesitation now?” 

“How do you know about my heart condition?” you demand, referring to the encrypted video he sent you a few days ago meant to lure you out into the open. “No one else knows that besides my grandmother.”

Sylus arches one dark brow, cocking his head to the side to truly study the mutiny on your face.

“And how are you so sure your grandmother was the only one with such classified information?” 

This asshole. He was never going to give you a straight answer. You had walked right into his trap.

Trying to move your limbs was futile. You were fully under his mercy. 

The stench of your entire situation grows harder to ignore. You replay every single moment which led you right in this situation. 

A shady video sent straight to your Hunter’s Watch. The dark background and the modulated voice whispering how you can get your answers if you meet him right at the docks at exactly one in the morning. Ignoring Xavier’s concern and Jenna’s suggestion for you to take a partner. Nero, who usually supported your crazy ideas, was for once hesitant when he inspected the video. They never expected you to take this on by yourself—for you to act this recklessly.

And tonight, you would die without any of them knowing the truth.

You want to shout, to tell the entire world that the leader of Onychinus is right in front of you. But, you cannot find  your voice. 

Sylus is close enough for the sharpness of his cologne to fill your nostrils. You can barely move your hand to press the alert button on your watch; your movements are restricted by this dangerous Evol you don’t think you’ve ever encountered.

“Tell me, why do you seek such answers when you do not know the magnitude of their implications?” 

His voice is saccharine sweet, condescending to a fault. 

Scoffing, you turn your face away, unable to look him in the eyes long enough.

“I guess… I want to know why my grandmother and Caleb had to die.”

The admission feels like a punch to your gut. To anyone else, your voice remains steady and firm. But, it took a special sort of psychopath to hear the tremble at the tailend of your sentence and yet, choose to laugh.

“Ah. Yes. I can answer that one for you—Onychinus did not cause the death of your grandmother and friend.” Nothing about tonight’s encounter could prepare you for what he has to say next. 

“You might want to look a little closer to home.”

Closer to… home? 

The confusion in your eyes is his aphrodisiac, and his nostrils flare; getting off on your distress.

“The Hunters,” he clarifies; tone like a teacher speaking down to a toddler. “Don’t you think it strange that they never investigated what happened to your family? Or, did a postmortem on your grandmother’s remains?” 

He’s speaking circles around you, intentionally messing with your mind. 

And yet, a seed of doubt begins to take root. You have to physically clench down on your fists to stop from lashing out at him; Jenna’s sympathetic expression, the doctors who told you that there was no feasible way they could glean what happened to your grandmother and Caleb without at least 85% of the body intact.

An accident. An anomaly. That was how they classified your family’s demise.

You weren’t even allowed to have a closed coffin funeral for them. 

His thumbs touch your cheek, swiping the tears away in a gesture far too intimate for a man who was meeting you for the first time tonight.

“Ever since I first saw you, you’ve done nothing but invade my thoughts.”

Your back melts off the wall and meets the ground, his entire weight pressed on top of you. He has you right under him with nowhere to go, and you can’t even call for help, those long, elegant fingers sliding right into your mouth, forcing you to suck on them.

“My pretty little stubborn Hunter,” he whispers. 

You know the look in his eye; the one men would get when they’re crossing the threshold of claiming the object they’ve been seeking for years. It’s the same look in Xavier’s eyes whenever you accidentally graze his thigh, or how Zayne’s expression visibly darkens when you call him ‘doctor’. It’s the same look Rafayel gives you when you say you want nothing more than to be by his side forever.

Desire.

And fear. 

Sylus swallows hard, and you’re surprised to find his touch faltering. Those magnetically dark eyes could engulf you whole, growing closer and closer until you’re forced to close your own eyes; his lips the first spark that sets your entire world ablaze.

Devouring you like you were oxygen in a deprived world, Sylus kisses are brutal and hard, nipping at your lips, forcing his tongue into your mouth so you have no choice but to choke on your own spit. A dark shadow flits overhead, its caws filling the night air with rampant euphoria. 

He is too forward… this is going much too fast…

“Do you not like it when intentions are made known to you?” He tugs at your bottom lip, smirking at your faltering expression when you realize you’ve spoken those words aloud.

You struggle against him, trying to turn your face away, but Sylus will not relent his grip on your cheeks. 

“Why?” you gasp. “Why are you treating me like this when we both are on different sides?” Struggling to push him away, you’re overtaken once again by his mouth moving down your jaw, caressing your pulse point and traversing down the column of your throat. Kisses which feel more like a possessive mark.  

“Who said we were any different?” He murmurs, and you have no choice but to voice out your disbelief.

“I’m a Hunter. You’re an illegal weapons seller. My job is to stop you—oh.” 

He kneads your hip roughly with one hand, expression open with want. You can’t formulate a single coherent thought, your vision purely dominated by the halo of his silver hair and those deep, impenetrable dark eyes. 

“No,” his deep voice intones, sending shivers up your spine. “You have no idea. We are more similar than you think.” 

Holding secrets you weren’t aware of, Sylus didn’t know where to start; how to make you believe him.

So, he settles for pinning you against the ground, your wrists held above your head and your body trapped under his bigger build.

“Heed my words, little Hunter,” he whispers, and there’s a look in his eye, an unfathomable emotion you wanted to unravel but it was gone the second you dared to look closer. “Do not trust what you think is the truth.”

Before your eyes, he dissipates to smoke, small flecks of blood landing on your cheeks and parted mouth. His raven caterwauls, inducing goosebumps across your entire body as it spirals into the night sky, disappearing from view.

You turn onto your hands and knees, spitting out the blood, wiping it off your cheeks with frantic swipes. 

Someone calls your name, and you don’t realize how badly you’re shivering until a warm embrace engulfs you.

“Oh, Y/N,” Xavier exhales, bringing you closer to the streetlamp light so he can scrutinize your face. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” 

Thumbing the blood from your face, you nod, murmuring, “This isn’t mine.”

 Xavier opens his mouth, about to ask you what exactly happened when your Hunter Watch went off the grid when Jenna pushes through the alley, her gun at the ready, mouth set into a grim line.

“Y/N. You’re safe.” 

Accepting Xavier’s outstretched hand, you stood up with his help. Jenna shines a flashlight on your face, momentarily blinding you.

“Is that your blood?” she demands, sounding like she was a second away from giving you the lecture of a lifetime. 

You grimace, and Xavier tightens his grip around your waist.

“Captain, we should take her back for an inspection—”

“Agreed,” Jenna cuts him off, then narrows her eyes as she leans closer. “Is that… a mark on your neck? And your lips—they’re quite swollen.”

Slapping a hand to your mouth, you shake your head, hoping your wide, pleading eyes will get them to drop this. Next to you, Xavier stiffens, those blue eyes going glacial as he sweeps them all over your disheveled frame. It’s unavoidable that he comes to such assumptions based on your appearance. 

But, rather than lashing out in jealousy, he reels it in, choosing to steer you back towards safety.

“Whatever happened, you can tell us later. We need to get you checked up.”

His grip digs into your skin, and you don’t know what to say once the inevitable interrogation comes up.

How could you divulge all that Sylus had said without putting Xavier in a predicament between trusting you or being loyal to an organization he serves well? 

If what the Onychinus leader said was true, you couldn’t trust Captain Jenna either. 

And Tara…

Everything dear in your world begins to blur, infecting the foundations of your love for the people you trust; making them crack and crumble. 

Xavier, Jenna, Tara, Nero… did they all know what happened to your family but refused to tell you the truth? 

You had no idea how to react; you couldn’t wrap your head around such a betrayal if the truth were to come to light.

You think you could probably destroy the entire Organization with your bare hands if what Sylus said was true. 

Abovehead, somewhere in the trees, a raven caws—a harbinger of worse things to come.

a/n. save me emo edgelord crow boy save me .... reblogs and feedback are appreciated !!

©️ all works belong to lalunaymph. do not copy, repost, translate or share across any other platform

[astro-pioneer]

my nosferatu!

lifeless skin, sharp fangs, and unusual allergies? sounds like his type. 『dottore』

! sumeru spoilers !

@n0tamused !!! :33

barely cares about any harm that happens to you

in actuality he's basically the reason you even HAVE injuries in the first place

his segments barely view you as a partner, moreso a test subject that can't die unless some extreme outside factors interfere

that or a simple travel companion, seeing as though he allowed omega to bring you to sumeru for company

the only evidence that you're not just a test subject is the consistent pet name dottore will drop and the fact you're not dead or altered

no one does anything though, mostly because it's dottore of all people

you're not the perfect of the bunch either, if the puncture wounds on every segment say anything

and they've heard stories from his subordinates that you have a temper when bothered (especially when it's day even though you can't see the sun??? ok edgelord)

everyone on the sumeru expedition was basically holding their breath the whole time

lord of darkness going to the hot and dry desert??? with the sixth harbinger??? scary thought

you gave the night vendors hella business so the locals can't really complain

two psychopaths insanely in love, i guess

"Ah, that hurt, Dotte." The subordinates who were also on the deck of the ship stared in shock as the segment of the Second casually ripped your arm off. The agent closest had to suppress a flinch from the blood splattering from your arm onto his boots. Despite verbally saying you were in pain, your expression barely changed. The segment, Omega, simply grinned, eyes crinkling behind the mask as he observed. What, exactly, he was analyzing, no one knew.

"Perfect! Now here-" he thrust the disconnected and lifeless arm to you, "-heal yourself. Quickly now, we're almost to Sumeru." The same subordinates could help but watch in disgusted interest as your arm merged itself back to your shoulder. "Now, darling, let's go change your clothes. They're filthy." Oh, wow, no one even noticed! Almost like it was your fault.

In new clothes and donning your iconic parasol, you freely express your scowl to everyone on the dock. You did not like Sumeru. It was second only to Natlan on your list of the worst nations. The heat was tolerable compared to the desert, but was still horrendous in your eyes. Thankfully, the half pint Sixth was on a different boat from you. You'd have more to frown about if it was shared.

Dottore carefully guided you off the boat and onto the sturdy walkway when it docked. You muttered a word of gratitude before he let go. "Stay in the city." The threat was well hidden as he tapped your forearm. You rolled your eyes before quickly heading to the room you and Dottore were to stay in. His plan was to head to his old research location early in the morning. Just the thought of being stuck travelling in the desert during the day made you groan. The agent assigned to you struggled to match your stride as you left for your temporary room.

The harbinger in the sixth position avoided your gaze. After the gruesome trek ("I'm not being dramatic, Dotte."), your day continued to get worse. The little puppet boy was the whole reason you were out of Sneznhaya anyway. Plus that attitude of his has not landed him on your good graces ("I've lived longer than you've been planned, little puppet. Don't tempt me to do something to you.").

If only your lover could've been less greedy and mental. Or, maybe if he was more organized. Yes, him being more organized would be better. His segments leaving important documents and experiments in your bedroom annoyed you to no end when they barge in to grab them. If be was more organized then none of you would need to be in his old office. You twirled your parasol in your hands with your iconic scowl. Apparently you and The Balladeer had something in common.

Segment Omega watched you get dressed. The two of you were taking a stroll together when the sun was starting to set. The plan to distract the common folk of Sumeru and allow The Balladeer to ascend was already in effect, but be could tell you were getting increasingly irritated. On the walk, you overheard chattering of a night market happening. He knew that nothing he could say would deter you from going.

When he first thought about this, his aggravation got the best of him and, sadly, he took it out on your hand. He would never ACTUALLY kill you; you were too precious both to his research and the primary segment. Your trusted agent watched from behind as the feared and powerful Second fretted over how to hold the shade maker while you moaned about how badly your hand hurt to hold it yourself.

Now, however, as he helps you choose what to wear, he couldn't help but think it over. Having you out would be excellent. Word of that pesky traveler duo being in Sumeru and sticking their noses into his affairs had already spread through the dispatched fatui. He didn't need much time to prepare their welcome and a quick chat with you would give him more than enough. "Dotte, help me choose what to wear." Whining should not be coming out of a being as old as time.

A crushing kiss was all your Dotte left you with before the two of you split ways. The streets were basically empty. You could feel the blond and little white haired child staring at you from around the wall. You could also sense that little dendro archon too. Using that silly Marionette's creation was smart. However, they posed no concern to you. Your goal here was to empty your pockets and force your Dotte to carry everything you purchased. A fine punishment for what he's put you through this trip.

Sometimes, you wonder how the harbingers are able to stay in their ranks, as loose-lipped as they are. "Are you sure we should be going up to them? They're a part of the fatui!" The little white one didn't know how to lower her voice. It was also not hard to overhear, as the restaurant was basically abandoned. There was no background chatter to cover their voices or footsteps. Nahida (should you call her Katheryne?) analyzed the way you moved and acted. "Hey, Nahida! Are you even listening to Paimon?" To the archon, you didn't care about what was happening in Sumeru.

If anything... "There's no garlic in this, right, darling? I have a horrendous allergy to it." ...you seemed to care more about spending than anything else. She didn't miss the big bag of mora you passed to the waitress with the order to split it with the chef. I guess being a big shot of the fatui puts you in a higher figurative pedestal.

"Do you know what's going on?" The archon of wisdom was not stupid. It was obvious you weren't human. Every vendor you went to and brushed against when paying thought about how your hands felt as though they were freezing (and about how loaded you were, but that's besides the point) and how your skin looked sickly. They just assumed you were infected with something, but Nahida knew better. And watching as your sharp and dangerous fangs glint in the streetlight confirmed it all for her. But, strangely, she also knew you wouldn't do anything to them.

"'Going on' with what, exactly, little archon?" The little white child - Paimon, you mused silently, gasped, hiding behind the blond hair of her companion. What annoyed her was that she couldn't read what you were thinking. It was too overlapped, too soft to catch. The only thing that was consistent were thoughts about one person. It was a little insane, if Nahida was being honest. "Besides, instead of worrying about me and what I'm doing here, shouldn't you three be running to the Akademiya? Being late to a scheduled meeting isn't the best look. Especially for the esteemed traveler."

It was interesting to see how the blond's face morphed. Your taunts as well as your affiliation weren't helping the urge to start an altercation. "Tata, little children." Your little finger wave made Paimon stomp her feet. "Oh, darling, could I also have some desserts as well? To go, though, along with the other entrées. Greatly appreciated." Another bag of mora being placed in the girl's hands had her squealing all the way back to the kitchen.

You were still awake and active in the room when your Dotte met up with you. Most of your items were already placed in your bags. The only goods you kept out were the ones you personally wished to give to your agent. Just because Dottore hates his subordinates does not mean you hate yours. The rest were for your Prime segment. Even though he split himself into different periods of his life, in every single one he was your Dotte just like you were his...salvation, so to speak. You were proof that what he was looking for was plausible. That was the only thing that was continuous in all of his segments.

"Oh, my nosferatu. How I missed you so." Sometimes, all Dottore wishes to do is merge with you. Tear you open and live inside of you, and you in him. He couldn't help but tightly grip your wrists as he hugged you from behind, forcing your arms to follow his in wrapping around you. "The traveler and their little detective group of Sumerians have found out too much, I'm afraid. I'm sending Omega home with the rest of the deployed fleet. It's up to you on whether or not you'd wish to go."

His heartbeat echoed into your silent chest as you leaned into the blue haired man, making him hold all of your weight onto his body. "You still have yet to get the Gnoses, and as much as I love hanging out with Omega, spending time with my Dotte is better." He allowed your fangs to casually slide into his wrist, his outer coat barely pulled back to avoid the blood that leaks from the puncture wounds.

The mention of his segment made him hum, swaying both of you side to side as he thought about all Omega did. You were used to it - obviously, seeing as though you've stuck with the doctor - and it was mostly directly ordered by him. However, conflicting the same injuries on you for no reason other than to just do it annoyed Dottore to no end.

He wrapped his freed arm around your neck, finger tracing over your notched ear. It never fully healed after all, he mused. "Oh, my darling." He didn't continue but instead cupped your face. His mask and gloves were off and presumably on the bedside table. He didn't care that blood still flowed out of his arm. All he cared about at the moment was how the only thing in your eyes was him. How it should always and forever be.

Watching the Omega segment depart with all of the other fatui members sent a sense of foreboding into you. The god of wisdom might be least inexperienced, including how she was held by the sages of her nation, but from what you could see from her, she was cunning. Your Dotte already had that issue covered. "It's ironic how the soundwave doesn't work on gods or vampires. I guess any non-human is immune." His footsteps were daunting to Nahida.

"Say, if my segments were an insult to the concept of life, how would you label my nosferatu? And all of their unique ways of documenting to help my experiment?" She couldn't possibly guess what your assistance in creating the segments were.

"If you mean the vampire that's been with you, I don't see how they're a part of this."

"Oh, but you should. You see, they have also defied your so-called concept of life multiple times. Their whole existence is a disgrace to your philosophy. Now, it's not my place to discuss their upbringing. I've got to keep my title as their "Precious Dotte" after all. Not like spilling their silly little secrets would change that."

Their talk seemed to take forever. Your agent faithfully stood beside you, arms crossed behind his back. The new brooches connected by chains matched him well. "Do you miss being out on the field to collect debts like your fellow agents?" You could hear his surprised cough. You were not really expecting a reply, especially when there was no knowing when Dottore would be back. His obsession with everything you made him order all of his subordinates to not converse with you in his presence. However, this was your subordinate. So who cares what he orders?

His boots shuffled against the shaded walkway. The silence stretched on for a few minutes. You spent the time twirling your parasol out of boredom. "Sometimes," he huffed. He no longer flinches when your eyes slide to land on him. "I'm still able to go into battle, especially when you unintentionally stir up trouble, my lord." You barked out a laugh that quickly turned into a short cough.

Dottore's footsteps start to enter your ears. "Unintentionally is a nice way to put it, my dear. Maybe I'm doing it on purpose to keep you on your toes." He followed as you stepped out of the shade, meeting up with your blue haired lover who already walked past. "You let go of your segments, Dotte." The doctor's red eyes curled in distaste behind his mask. Your agent casually blended himself into the background behind you.

"It was all to fulfill my side of the transaction for the Electro Gnosis. Besides, dealing with all of them was draining. A little annoying to clean up after, too." The agent casually glanced down with his eyes at his boots. Despite taking hours to scrub his boots, there was still a faint hue of brown on the tops. He could agree with the harbinger on the clean up comment.

Dottore stared at you with utmost devotion as you spilled your lustless desires. Your shared room back in Snezhnaya was messier than usual due to all that spending you did in Sumeru. In between your statement, you expressed your woes about the temporary loss of his segments. Even through the dramatic complaining you did, Dottore still watched you move around as though you were his own personal god to worship. His very own Nosferatu to your Dotte.

[katyspersonal]

brador probably brushes his teeth with bleach to wash the blood out of his mouth like the edgelord he is and to make it look like he foams at the mouth like a dog. also he reads 50 shades of grey to self-insert and imagine laurence as the sadist millionaire guy.

I will have you know that Brador takes such excessive care of his teeth because before his jailcell era, he took his image very seriously and didn't want to stain Laurence with his filthy presence! But even that aside, Brador makes suce that his manic grin always looks as shiny and charming as possible! YOUR edgelord son Bloody CrOwOw, on the other hand, doesn't bother with his mouth hygiene at all and that's why a smile engraved on his funny helmet will always look way better than his real one! Did I ALSO mention that Crow sips the blood because of addiction at least, because of vital need at MOST? Meanwhile Brador drinks blood JUST because!

Also Brador properly utilizes the fiction he engages with to explore his cringe urges and keep them contained within safe environment! And when he will be open to discuss them with Laurence, they will have very healthy and good kinky sex! He is a good example for all of us! YOUR blorbo, on the other hand, not only never got that queenussy, but also probably still pesters stranger women begging them for nudes low-quality roleplay where they'd need to say the lines from Annalise he wrote based on his wet dreams!

[bylightofdawn]

So I don't know if I will emotionally, mentally or physically make i through episode 8 of Beyond Evil.

This episode has been a fucking EMOTIONAL ROLLERCOASTER that has inflicted emotional damage on me.

Thoughts and spoiler cuts beneath the cut.

Oh my god everything with Kang Jin-muk makes my fucking skin crawl. The close up of him eating the noodles and the dutch angle just made it like 10,000 x more upsetting.

His smug smarmy and the taunting way he keeps trying to upset everyone and Dong-sik in particular. Just…OH MY GOD. Someone kill this man. He needs to die.

They fucking BROKE ME at the crematorium scene. Everything with that. Dong-sik needs a hug desperately. Someone give this man a hug and tell him it's going to be okay. Him torturing himself and imagining how he failed Kang Min-jeoeng in her final moments. The fucking shot of him standing on top of the place she was slowly suffocating to death right underneath him. The cinematography of that entire shot? Just mwah chef-kiss.

That is actual nightmare fuel personified there.

And then little Mr Sunshine Oh Ji-hoon just having a mental breakdown because he’s blaming himself for being there and not knowing she was in danger. FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK.

The emotional damage of this episode.

And then they go and give us unhinged Dong-sik just grinning like an absolute feral madman when he taunts Kang Jin-muk into strangling him? So help me if fanficcers aren’t writing some absolutely FILTHY Dong-sik getting off to breathplay smut I WILL BE SO DISAPPOINTED IN YOU.

I also love that Han Ju-won just fucking shut down because he oops caught feelings and can’t handle the fact he was willing to murder a man for daring to touch his little Meow Meow. This man is so emotionally constipated he can’t even.

My mans really needed to take an emotional sabbatical because he caught the fee-fees.

And then this fucking show has the AUDACITY to hand us the fertile AU of rent-boy Ju-won and Donk-sik being his client with Dong-sik AS ALWAYS flirting like crazy with him and asking him what kind of flower boy he would be.

HOW DARE YOU. I also love the entire restaurant scene and Han Ju-won trying to be the edgelord that he is who hates icky things like feelings and friendships. Whilst he is TURNING HIMSELF INSIDE OUT EMOTIONALLY for a dead hooker he used as bait just because he doesn’t want her to lay in a ice box for months on end unloved and unclaimed.

And our king Dong-sik just calling him out on his bullshit as always.

Also? I hate to tell you this boo but YOU are the clingy one in that relationship. You and your mancrush obsessing over Dong-sik which was so strong you moved to a whole new city just to try and ‘catch’ him. Uh huh. You keep telling yourself that, boyo.

And Jeong-je and his awful mother. Please tell me this poor damaged manchild is not still living at home because that sadly would explain a lot about his Peter Pan syndrome and why an adult man is wearing a hideous hair cut like his. Pfffffft He is a poster child for arrested development. And is so emotionally fragile but my mans has a lot of rage in him and I'll be interested to see where his story heads.

But then it has to end with them finding Jae-i’s mother and just…fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck all over again.

I am exhausted after every episode of this show. And cannot binge it all at once because it makes me feel too many things

[rainbowgod666]

RIFLE. IS. FINE.

Look at you filthy NĪNGĒN messing with great design of TRUE KING OF ALL FIREARMS Mikail Kalashnikov and fucking over innovation- WHAT IN FUCK IS THAT CARTRIDGE. I DONT CARE IF ITS QUICK-PULL THAT FUCKING THING SO STRAIGHT IT VOTED TRUMP AT 2016 PRIMARIES OF US OF A. Why is the barrel so short? You wanna make Spray And Pray? YOU GET SAME RESULT WITH FLECHETTE AND LITTLE HOLY IMAGERY STUCK WITH TAPE ON SIDE YOU COCK-BURNED WEED MASTURBATOR. And where in fuck is stock? Why did you not even get stock-less modification??? You made half-breed with MG42 of third reich for this??? Then i go back to catridge- QUICK PULL MAG IS USELESS IF IT HOLDS LESS BULLETS THAN HOLY DESIGN OF M1 GARAND. And why does it have bipod if it is so much shorter than penis of average twitter transphobe? WHERE IN FUCK YOU PLACE THIS SHORT SHIT, ON EDGE OF FUCKING A4 PAPER? And why are there holes on barrel-I CAN SEE TIP OF BOOLET FROM SIDE!! And why is most of reciever welded parts- (messes around) BY GREAT ANCESTORS- THE GUN RATTLE LIKE MARACAS? YOU WANNA MAKE GUN FOR RACIST BORDER PATROL OF AMERICA TO LAUGH? THESE NOT LOOSE TOLERANCES, THIS ONE MISFIRE AWAY FROM VAL-FAKING-ALLAH, YEAH YOU HEARD ME. GUN SO SHIT NOT EVEN CRINGE EDGELORDS OF WOMAN-HATING ISIS TAKE THIS RIFLE TO BATTLE, THEY WOULD RATHER JIHAD THEMSELVES INTO FLAMING HOLE IN KAZAKISTAN, IT WOULD BE MORE HONORABLE THAT WAy. And also the fuck is this bolt? Why it open both ways huh? You made a fuckign bisexual gun? (slaps like its an italian film from the 80s) YOU NO MAKE BISEXUAL RIFLE SHIT. THE BISEXUAL RIFLE ACCEPTS MULTIPLE TYPE OF BOOLET BUT SHOOTS CASING ON ONLY ONE HOLE, AND SHOOT IN OTHER HOLE. And look at those HAMMERINGS? Ahegao Paintjob cannot fucking stick to uneven surf- (realization) WHAT FUCK ARE THOSE PICATINNY RAILS??? THE SCOPE CANT ZERO IN ON THIS FUCKIN THING, DO YOU NEED TO AIM LIKE BENT BARREL MADE BY NAZIS WHEN THEY WATCH TOO MUCH 1940 LOONEY TOONES??? BARREL CANNOT BULLET BECAUSE TOO SHORT BUT NOW YOU WANNA MAKE LIKE MY PEEPEE IN REAL WORLD AND MAKE IT FIRE SIDEWAYS? No no, this not rifle, THIS HERESY IN EYES OF GUN MANUFACTURERS! If zack hazard see this, HE FEED YOU TO THE SEX DEATHCLAWS- OR MAYBE YOU MAKE HIM USE SHIT GUN ON YOU TO AT LEAST GIVE YOU DEATH YOU DO NOT FUCKING DESERVIOLI. If you want to make cursed build is fine, BUT DO NOT EXPECT TO MAKE SNUBNOSE VIOLET BARRETT WITH RANDOM PARTS. You disgrace in eyes of gun-interested autistic toddlers of world- NO WORSE ACTUALLY. I CAN HAVE KID FROM MY OLD ELEMENTARY SCHOOL MAKE NEW MINIGUN WITH JUST SOME STICKS AND ROCK BIG ENOUGH TO MAKE KILLING OF ABEL ONCE AGAIN. YOU TOOK BUDGET AND USED IT TO WACK OFF TO IMAGE OF OLDER ANIME WOMAN, OR WAS IT BLUE EYE WHITE DRAGON SHAPED LIKE LITERAL CHILD- ah who am I kidding even disgrace like you would be terrified of 5000 year old child with knowledge of biology. BUT POINT STANDS. YOU DID NOT MAKE GUN. NOT EVEN ORKS FROM GRIM DARKNESS OF FAR FUTURE MAKE GUN SHIT LIKE THAT, THEY AT LEAST MAKE GUN HAVE SHAPE OF GUN AND HAVE MAGIC TO MAKE THEM FIRE GOOD. DISMANTLE THAT SHIT AND MAKE TWIN-BARRELED GUN WITH AK PLATFORM AND ADAPTABLE MAGAZINE HOLDER FOR 9MM AND .45 ACP OF AMERICA. THEN FIGURE OUT HOW TO FUCKING USE RULER AND "STICK-BUILD" IF YOU CANT MAKE STRAIGHT LIKE WITH RULER.

[caterpillar-and-canvasari]

Elder Scrolls IV x Pathfinder, Part 1

So... I got burnt out on my Pathfinder game a few months ago, and I started running a game based on TES IV: Oblivion, which was the first Elder Scrolls game I ever played. I'm not gonna put too many details that I haven't revealed to the group yet, because they're avid theorycrafters and they're digging through UESP and the internet in general trying to figure out my cryptic hints, but I will share what's happened so far, because frankly, I'm having a wonderful time.

In this version of Oblivion, the game starts with three prisoners in a cell: Skadi Nagania, an Imperial spellsword with Nord heritage, whose family motto is "I have learned nothing"; Flees-From-Water, an Argonian Blade novice with a crippling fear of slaughterfish and a strong dedication to law and order; and Theaval Oakvale, a Bosmer alchemist and the most True Neutral character you'll ever meet. The three of them are taunted by a certain Dunmer as they languish in their cell.

(Yes I am including my Valen Dreth dialogue, I spent a lot of time writing and rehearsing it!) "Well, well, well, what a sorry little party we have here! A filthy human, a midget, and a lizard. A pity you three won't have long to get to know one another. Do you know what happens to the people they place in that cell? I've heard the guards talking, something about 'extraction.' What are they extracting, I wonder? Your blood? Your life force? Your very souls? Well, it won't be long until you find out. Heeheeheehee!"

At this point, the party hears horrible screaming echoing from further down in the dungeons, and they all remember what they were doing before they were in the prison- there was a deafening crack, louder than any thunder, the sky seemed to split open, and a brilliant white light erupted from the heavens before they were knocked unawares.

Fortunately, they have a way out; after poking around the cell, they realize that a slab of the wall seems to be loose, and after more examination, they realize it can be pulled to the side using a pulley disguised as a shackle. They make their way through decrepit ruins and twisting tunnels, fighting off rats, and then skeletons, and then goblins, gathering supplies as they go (mysteriously, the loot they find is exactly what they had on their character sheets before they were arrested XD). Finally, they reach an area they expect to be full of Mythic Dawn agents (three of my four players have played Oblivion before), but instead they find clockwork spiders, crafted from mirror-polished silvery metal and powered by strange, grey clusters of crystal. The party continues on, and they find scattered bodies, both Blades and Mythic Dawn, with the occasional smashed spider. Finally, they reach a room with several doors, and the party goes to different doors to try and force a way open. It's then that Flees walks into a room and finds the body of Uriel Septim VII.

Now, something to know about Flees' player: when he first joined my group, he was extremely self-conscious. He deliberately chose to play a near-silent masked edgelord to avoid too much interaction. But as Flees fell to his kness, his player broke down into an incredibly dramatic combination of crying, yelling, muttering to himself, and, once the other players tried to comfort him, playing off their responses beautifully. I was so proud of him. Then Skadi's player really got into things, too, pushing Flees to focus on the task at hand with an uncharacteristic, authoritative coldness that was quite imperial and almost... dragonlike. Yeah, uh, everyone knows what the eventual plot twist with Skadi is.

When the three of them step out of the sewers at last, they are greeted by a terrifying sight: the Imperial City is burning, the White-Gold Tower encased in grey crystals that descend from a rift in the now-grey sky, and in the heavens hangs what looks like ornate metal latticework, encasing all of the world beyond that celestial schism.

That's where I left the first session.

[dak-legacy]

Toki mains Reaper in Overwatch.

[existentialcrisisrambler]

Warning: A normal ramble about being worried about how Jay ended up with the Walkers in the first place somehow turned into a "shower argument" type of ramble, but the 2 sides arguing have chemistry.

-

Season 6 has left me wondering how tf did Jay ended with the Walkers, and the edgelord part of myself keeps coming with the worst possible scenario, like:"Oh my gosh Jay was literally dumped in the junkyard as a baby."

The other part of myself is hitting the edgelord with a rolled up newspaper and saying: "Shut up, Jay could have been adopted from an orphanage or be given directly towards the Walkers by either his mom or dad. Think about it, how did Cliff Gordon manage to keep up with Jay's life from a far if he didn't know who adopted him?"

Then, the edgelord fights back with some sass: "Cliff Gordon was a womanizer who wrote an entire book about how to create a relationship based on lies and generally terrible communication (It's also kinda sexist). There's no way things ended well between him and the last Master of Lightning. I doubt that kind of dude would have been involved much in his child's adoption process to other people."

The edgelord holds up a finger close to the less edgy one's face: "Another thing, why would a filthy rich actor needs to give away his child up for adoption? He could have easily hired a nanny or do what Misako did and dump Jay at a boarding school."

The less edgy one lowers the arm wielding the newspaper and sighs: "You're right. But here's the thing, we don't have all the pieces. We don't actually know if Cliff and the last Master of Lightning had a falling out, we don't know how she died and we don't know if she died during childbirth or some time after that. We don't know why Jay was given away in the first place. Was he given away in a hurry or was the choice to give him away thought more thoroughly? And just to be optimistic, we don't know if Cliff died still believing in the things he wrote in that book. He could've died a changed man, but kept the book as a reminder (I do think Cliff is a bastard for not contacting Jay at all, but that's for another time)

The edgelord folds her arms and shakes her head with a smirk: Fine then, you argumentative bastard

Then they hung out by watching a trashy show on tv while sharing snacks. (I'm aware (with worry) that there's enough chemistry between these two losers to have them make out. However, I hate myself, all parts of it, too much to allow them to do that.)

[tlaquetzqui]

Period appropriate? Medieval Europe gave women exactly every legal right men had: they owned property, practiced trades, filed lawsuits, testified in court, and voted in every assembly where men did. Daughters were taught to read as often as sons and the receipts of the booksellers show women bought more books—the most popular vernacular fiction, Arthurian romance, was mainly written for a female audience. The abbesses of major convents often exercised more influence in their region’s ecclesiastic affairs than their bishops did. Committing atrocities in wartime, including rape, got your territory placed under interdict: the entire church went on strike.

The actual issue is that Martin is projecting the sexism—and violence—of the filthy squalid slave-owning tyrannical superstitious mass-murdering Early Modern period onto an era that had a whole different set of problems. The idiot picked feudalism for a story about the dangers of unchecked power—when the whole problem with feudalism is there are so many checks on power that it’s really inefficient. (And don’t even get me started on the Dothraki, who would be a laughable caricature even of Turks or Comanche let alone Mongols, Lakota, or Magyars.)

Martin’s worldbuilding reflects the fact he’s a stupid shallow edgelord with a middle-school understanding of history.

[sunlitmcgee]

Y’know there’s Many Reasons why I hate c!Techno. Many reasons that needn’t be aired out here. But I think the main thing that makes him so awful, so annoying, so goddamn insidious and downright repulsive, is that no matter how hard I try to ignore him, he will always end up forcing himself into the stories of the characters that I Actually Enjoy And Somewhat Care About.

Like see I don’t like c!Niki. Never have. She’s just very meh to me and not very interesting. She’s involved in lore connected to my favs, but her presence and impact there is so minor and brief that I can easily ignore her and forget she exists.

But c!Techno? C!Technoblade Bitch Cunt Fucker Blood God Bastard Piggy Piece of Rancid Ass Fuck?

HE’S EVERYWHERE! HE IS IN EVERY PLOT OF EVERY CHARACTER I EVEN MILDLY ENJOY. AND HE’S NEVER GOOD! HE’S NEVER FUN OR INTERESTING OR INVOLVED IN THE THEMES BEYOND TAKING THE THEMES AND STAMPING ALL OVER THEM.

I can’t escape him! I can’t ignore him! No matter the character, He’s Always There. C!Tommy was framed as a villain because of Bedrock Bros. C!Ranboo was even more pathetic(and not in a fun way) due to his involvement with the Syndicate, and now c!Tubbo’s gone from one of the most complex & nuanced characters to nothing more than a shallow bratty girlboss because this filthy pig cannot help but infect every story he comes into contact with with the most horrid brand of Edgelord Mary Sue-ness that I have ever seen. 

He’s everywhere. He’s horrible. He’s a stain on the lore and I hate that I have to deal with him whenever lore for my favs come up. God I want him dead PLEASE just kill him 

[just-another-self-shipper]

💐 DO IT 👀👀👀 for anyone you like! :D

— @dark-magical-ships

I'm doing this one for Black Hat (since he doesn't do typical lovey-dovey romance, the flowers will reflect that lol)

Amaranth (immortality)

Amaryllis (pride)

Buttercup (riches) since he's a filthy capitalist

Coriander (lust)

Laurel (ambition, success, renown)

Lime blossom (fornication)

Morning glory (love in vain, affection) [which one applies? It's a mystery]

Rose, black (mystery, danger, obsession)

Wolfsbane (misanthropy)

A smaller bouquet since most of the flowers have positive connotations and that won't do for my Edgelord™ (affectionate)

Thanks for the ask, @dark-magical-ships ^^

[nemofil]

more sincere deceit spoilers loll

smth’s up with the military guy. mf really just up and left his people

i LOVE the funhouse aesthetic of the entertainment district but can i just say whoever the hell made the geometry like that deserves 10 years of jail time

oh so the dude running the cafe was. well i should’ve expected that but i didn’t

this purple edgelord called jadon rlly tried taking my batter like no bitch that’s MY puppet not yours take your filthy hands off of him

wait this bitch can break the 4th wall? OMG hiii my name’s hachi yes :)

he also tried manipulating me by telling me his edgy backstory then forcing me to watch his play

it was entertaining though. 3.5/5

oh right he’s a simp for the batter it’s fucking hilarious

oooh red voice coming in clutch

IT’S KINDA SHORT SINCE I HAVEN’T BEEN PLAYING THE GAME A LOT THESE DAYS BUT YEAH jadon was. yeah i love jadon i can be your puppet <3

[cherry-flavoured-thot]

Maybe for fgo do you have any hc sfw and nsfw for Edmond Dante's? I love my avenger husband please and thank you!!

I am surprised by how much i ended up loving this edgelord 

Edmond:

-Edmond and the concept of an s/o crack me up, because he’s walking around being a brooding avenger, mutter to himself and everyone’s is just like nothing unusual going on here, but his s/o is actually walking along with him hidden in his coat and they’re talking.

-He will go above and beyond for his s/o. Need some coffee? Done. Want an extra blanket cause you’re cold? Done. Need someone to completely disappear? No? Okay but just let him know. Need someone to come an rescue you from a life or death situation? Dantes is on his way.

-Sometimes him and his s/o will just be chilling and he’ll just, disappear, it happens often enough that his s/o isn’t too surprised that it happens, sometimes he tells them why, stating there was something he needed to check on. But in reality he had to leave the room a moment because he witnessed them doing something very cute and he wants to keep his reputation as an avenger in tact.

-Which is completely pointless, because it doesn’t take a genius to see how whipped he is for them, Dantes s/o literally said they wanted to give you a kiss and without hesitation you bent down so they could give you one.

-All I can think about is how skilled Dantes is at hiding or finding places to hide, would he put that skill to use to bang his s/o in dark alleyways while doings his best to muffled any sounds they might make? Probably.

-Most of the noises he makes during sex are him dirty talking his s/o, but it’s not impossible for his s/o to make his words get caught in his throat, they’ll find him pretty silent when they’re sucking his off or they’re riding him.

-Although they’ll find his voice returns pretty quickly after he finishes, especially if it’s after sucking his dick and they’ve let him finish on them, making about just how filthy they look right at this moment.

[zmediaoutlet]

6 and 50?

okay, I don’t have much more interesting to say about 6 so I’ll just roll straight on --

50. Did you enjoy the demon Dean arc? Thoughts on drowley? 

I did! I also thought it was about the right length. A lot of edgelord storylines sound fun to fandom folks and they’re great fic fodder, but they’d get pretty tedious if you actually had to see them on screen for very long. Demon Dean falls into that category, for me. Like, he’s hot or whatever, but there’s only so much smirky fuckery it would have been fun to see, whereas the fallout from the demon thing was wild. I don’t even really think of it as the “demon Dean” arc -- it’s all just part of the larger Mark of Cain arc, which I loved. Dean’s a lot scarier at the end of s10 than he is as a demon. Maybe some see that as a flaw, but I thought it was great.

Dean/Crowley: love it, love it, love it. Not as much as Crowley loves it, probably. As a canon thing, I love that it’s true; even if Dean wasn’t on Crowley’s dick, they had a fivesome (!), they were filthy besties, Crowley literally pined for Dean when Dean was gone. Sam makes references to the two of them with relationship-coded language. Dean’s fond of him, in an annoyed way, long past when they should have killed him. It’s great. As with most non-wincest ships I only really like it in the negative spaces of where Sam isn’t -- that is, I don’t want Dean to be “cheating” on Sam when he’s not a demon, platonically or otherwise -- but it’s a great fun way to look at both of their characters.

[the-order-of-fools]

Headcanons for when the knights get horny perhaps??? 😳💦💦

What is there to expect from a "knight" in his 30s who has lived most of his life until now with his mother? He may have been king for a few years, but that doesn't change his incel status. The only hand that has touched his dick belongs to him. He's in no way sex-obsessed, but he does get horny. He's touchy. If he's someone so obsessed with maintaining his status and avoiding "filthy peasants", why does he have his hand right on your back? You would quite like to punch him in the face, but sadly, you would rather not break your fist. Though, one may come to ask themself if it's worth it. On one hand, you teach him a good lesson about personal space and get to wipe that stupid confident smirk that you just know is behind his helmet, on the other, you may be thrown in jail for the rest of your life with a broken hand. You're left contemplating it as you feel his hand lowering. You swear he's trying trying to perk your attention with (mostly) empty promises of riches and status, but you're too lost in thought to notice his hand on your ass. He's seconds from storming away frustrated that you can't notice his foreplay, he contemplates just smacking your ass. He clearly does not foresee the consequences of his actions - but you do notice instead, and your mind is split between slapping him once and for all (your hand is willing to sacrifice itself) or politely pull his hand back up. His voice will become louder and more confident (or at least try to be), as to counteract his growing embarrassment and need. Even when he's horny, he doesn't result any less obnoxious than normal.

Tinker Knight usually tries avoiding the feeling as much as he can until it finally dies down and he can concentrate once more on his beloved machines, as working in such a state is an absolute no for him. He gets horny while he’s working on something and he accidentally distracts himself and blacks out (working 24/7 in the same place is very mentally tiring), letting the lewd thoughts seep him. Now watch his hands become sweaty under the gloves, his fingers tremble and his grip loosen, causing him to mess up and consequently curse out loud. He needs a pause, and most importantly he needs to drive the troublesome thoughts away. He's a man of focus, commitment and sheer will damnit! His ambition may keep his spirit strong, but it certainly doesn't help his screeching boner. He would rather die of sexual frustration than stop working. That's why you're around. You make sure he doesn't suppress it too much and get permanent hard cock disease.

Sentient magic has a strange way of acting when "aroused". It doesn't quite feel the same sexual arousal as humans or animals, but something much different, like craving a good piece of meat. Wait no that's sexual. A good carrot. Who even likes vegetables? Either way, sentient magic has its own manner of attaining pleasure. Treasure Knight just happens to be sentient magic inside of a free real estate armor. Whether it's a good thing or bad thing is all up to you. When "sexually" frustrated, there exist two ways of dealing with it. You either form what can only be described as a magic dick, or you touch your magic essence under the helmet. Treasure Knight has better things to do than keep a boner and wait for it go die out on its own, which means he'll actively drive it away whether it's thanks to your help or his own hand. He's curt enough to walk up to you and ask you to bed him right away. Expect him to stare intensely at you as you try mustering up an answer, your pupils travelling in every direction just to avoid that intense, supposedly horny gaze. He'll be more than happy to indulge in adult fun time if you give your consent, and then he'll be right back to work. Magic-possessed armors can be quite the workaholics sometimes, while still not being affected by their insane life-work balance. What a blessing.

Some may ask themselves: How can a corpse get horny? Can they even get hard? There isn't any blood in their veins. To which you say: "Magic and social awkwardness". It's like he's a teenager, really. Watching you from the corner of his eye, avoiding you as much as possible, spying on you in the dark. You might as well invite him over for a good fuck since he doesn't even dare wank it in the bushes. Specty can be a creepy motherfucker but with enough love you're sure he can reach some level of basic human decency. He acts like touching you is the most difficult thing he has done in his entire life, and that includes recruiting the Order of Asshole Knights. His touches are awkward, too shy to be truly tangible. You're sure that if you were to grab his dick he would disintegrate. You don't even know if he wants to either hold hands or fuck. Heck, they could mean the same thing for him for all you care. Touch him, and he's immediately on fire - you couldn't know dead skin could become so stiff until you tried caressing his cheek for the first time (while being in the dark of course, he's still trying to accept his body as it is).

Libido can vary between sentient magic beings. Plague Knight? His libido is nearly inexistent. All he knows is how to make potions and do crimes. This little fucker hasn't even experienced a handjob in his entire life, not even from his own hand. He has reached a new level of incel. You need to make the first move. What move? Who fucking knows, it can be getting him new potion ingredients (he might consider leaving your body explosion free for your apparent generosity), or maybe you're both nerds who enjoy discussing alchemy. Who knows, add some of your knowledge about creating gold out of lead, it might turn him on. His horniness translates into science, you struggle to find a way to fuck the alchemical bitch. They say "the way to a man's heart is through his stomach", but if the man in question is a bird-like alchemy enthusiast, you better go for potions. Has he ever made potions that affect sexual behavior? Aphrodisiacs? The Middle Ages’s alternative to Viagra? No one knows, actually, no one should.

Propeller Knight has no problems getting accustomed to his sexual needs and will find a way to quench his primal thirst. This man is labelled as a chad and so he shall be remembered, because he always knows how to get rid of the boner in the most pleasurable way possible. Still, he happens to find the foreplay quite... interesting. His voice becomes mellow and his gestures slow and kind, he's the type to push your lower back towards him as he holds your chin between his two fingers. He won't straight up ask you to bed him, he has manners and he does not want to ruin the poetic atmosphere, but sometimes his horniness will be so apparent that you'll find yourself blushing in embarrassment as his hands travel to places they normally wouldn't belong to.

Specter Knight might be laughably edgy, but Black Knight? He doesn't fuck around. Dubbed the Friendzone Knight by the Bard (who has luckily managed to escape his hot topic wrath), he lives up to his name. He's so sexually oppressed you might think that he's as mellow as a newborn duckling with no legs. Which has been justified by the fact that at times, he seems particularly determined to avoid your touches. He acts as if you're attempting to lay claim to his little edgy soul. Sometimes you find him brooding silently at the horizon. For a moment, you believe he's reminiscing about his tragic backstory, something along the lines of being rejected by his mother and living his lives with a pack of wolves. Then you realize that he's trying to suppress his boner. He avoids you like the plague.

Mole Knight, similarly to the two other sentient magic knights, does a bit of a better job at admitting his arousal and not breaking your pelvis. His flames are a clear, but unwilling, indicator of it. You have never seen them burn so bright before. They're dancing, scorching through the air itself as he awkwardly looms over you. He would try to bend. Though, he doesn't want to insult your short height, or burn you alive for that matter. He's awfully kind and polite, and most importantly: unfocused on his work. He'll try to pep in, subtly try to hint at spending some time together until you cut him off and kiss his helmet. The ordeal leaves a burn on your lips. Still, you're quite happy as long as he's not dying of heat. But that would be assuming that magic fire can be affected by it. He's literally on fire, what are you even thinking about. Though, the flames under his helm are soft and delicate and certainly not scorching. You haven't lost a body part... yet. You lick your lips as a reflex after feeling them burn a little, he ends up blushing even more and his magical boner is almost tangible. His instincts are screaming at him to jump on you but no, you're too precious for him and he would never do such a despicable thing to you - unless you consent of course. You'll need to ask him to bed you, and he'll be ready to run (more like wabble - he's massive) to the bedroom and spend some quality couple time with you.

Polar Knight hasn't gotten the privilege to get accustomed to his sexuality for a long time, being the coldest man you have ever known - at least on the outside, because you know that on the inside, he's certainly warmer than a couple of certified edgelords we all know. However, he still remains an incel. A silent, massive bearded incel. You'll find him to be quieter than usual (which is impressive if we consider that he established that record), and deep into a pensive state that may look similar to meditation. Leave him alone and he'll drive it away on his own, approach him and he'll look at you with such intensity that you'll think he either wants to murder you or fuck you all night long. Luckily for you, it happens to be the latter. He'll let his large hand loom over your shoulders, arms, hips; his gaze may leave yours but it will still be as intense. You can and will shiver when he'll finally place his lips against yours. -Mod Tinker and ~Mod Propeller

[skelanonymous]

Day 1 - Body Swap - Kedgeup (part 1), Fellcest, Fontcest, Kustard, Edgepuff

A link to the complete fic.

-

Sans came to flat on his back. His vision was hazy, but he could vaguely make out the shape of Alphys above him. She had a pretty serious look on her face, pointing at him very sternly, and gesturing over to something he couldn’t see.

“E-Edge! I didn’t c-call you here to cause a fight! You could have broken something! You got Sans caught up in this too! Look at him!” She pointed a claw over across the room and Sans turned his head to look.

His eyelights went out.

“Alphys...why is my body over there?” She did a double take, but Sans’s brain had already gone into a panic. His voice hadn’t sounded like his. He whipped himself up to sit and looked at his clothes. Black armor, with a red tattered scarf sweeping around his neck. His gloved hands went to clutch his face, but he even seeing them brought on panic.

“ALPHYS! EXPLAIN THIS INSTANT!” Edge had gotten up and walking menacingly over to her, but his lack of height and Sans’s usual attire dampened it heavily. Sans’s deep voice almost cracked under Edge’s use of it.

“Stop yelling. You’re making me sound as dumb as you.” It was kinda disturbing to watch his own head whip around to glare at him.

“YOU!” His body’s hands gripped at the scarf around his neck. “GET OUT OF THERE! THAT IS MY BODY AND NO ONE BUT I CAN USE IT!”

“Yeah, because I’m super enjoying this right now. Let go of me.” Sans flicked Edge back with a bit of blue magic. At least he still had that. He tipped his head back to glare at Alphys, who was really attempting to vanish into the wall. “So...Alphys...w a n t  t o  e x p l a i n ?”

Edge paced back and forth in front of her, much softer without his heeled boots. Slippers didn’t give him much presence. 

“I...I don’t...know?” She hid behind her hands. “I need time to replicate it! Edge broke the machine and I can’t even pretend to fix this until I fix that.” 

“AND HOW LONG WILL THAT TAKE?!” 

“Let me inspect the damage…” And she vanished leaving them alone.

“YOU COMPLETE PIECE OF SHIT. YOU ARE AN IMBECILE AND-”

“I’M the imbecile? Who fucking lashed out like a little fucking kid and broke the machine that did this to us, because I’m pretty damn sure it wasn’t me asshole.” Sans put a hand on these unusually long legs and stood to his new full height. Damn he looked small. “Red’s gunna lose his mind.”

“PAPYRUS! GOD DAMNIT. WE HAD RESERVATIONS!” Edge shuffled around, fiddling with the hoodie around him.

“Because that matters right now. Who’s going to be a Royal Guard in Underfell tomorrow?” Sans sighed, exasperated and mind working overtime. It’s not like Edge could show up in his body. He’d be dust in minutes, and Edge was useless in the lab even though Sans could do his work in this body.

“YOU OBVIOUSLY. WE’RE NOT TELLING ANYONE ABOUT THIS.” 

“Red will when I show up in your body. And then try to convince him it’s not a prank.” Sans pinched his nasal ridge, and Edge instantly stopped pacing.

“Unless I show up in your body.”

“What?” He turned to stare at Edge, his eyes distant and unfocused.

“I could be you. And go home to Red.” Edge had purposely lowered his voice, and it did sound much more like Sans. 

“And why would you do that?” Edge’s face went blue.

“Do you not want to go home to Papyrus?” Sans didn’t answer, but did let his mind wander.

He could sweep in as Edge, take his brother out to dinner, have a good evening. They’d go back home and be comfy on the couch, cuddled up under a blanket in their home, and maybe Paps would turn his face up to look at him. All leaned against him, face bright orange and wanting...

“WHAT DO YOU HAVE IN MIND?”

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

In the end, Alphys gave them a week. A few days to fix the machine, and another few to match the previous conditions. Edge and Sans agreed to return in a week, told Alphys to keep this quiet, and walked out. After an hour or so, they met at Waterfall, in the quiet bench area.

“THIS PLAN IS PRETTY SHITTY.” 

“You just need to put in more effort. I’m dying in this despicable hoodie, but I’m making it work.” Edge attempted to casually slouch, making a more lax face. The casual grin looked so off it was giving Sans anxiety. 

“WELL, THEN ALL I NEED TO DO IS TALK ABOUT HOW GRAND AND TERRIBLE I AM. LET ME KEEP YELLING.” Sans was grateful this body was used to this. His voice would’ve been gone instantly. He glared at Edge, standing up straight and marvelling at the lack of pain. “THIS RUSE IS MISSING SOMETHING.”

“And what would that be, edgelord?” Edge winked. He chuckled and put on a pretty convincing contented grin.

“ARE YOU THIS INSUFFERABLE IN BED TOO?” Sans smirked at the flash of indignation.

“I don’t think that’s your business.”

“I’M SURE PAPYRUS WILL NOTICE IF I’M NOT AS ATTENTIVE AS USUAL. RED WILL NOTICE IF YOU TRY TOO FUCKING HARD.”

“...you could have a point. Maybe.” Edge looked unimpressed. “So how do you think we should share techniques?” He shrugged stiffly. “It’s not like it matters. One oddly active or lazy night shouldn’t be too off.”

“I DON’T MAKE A LOT OF NOISE.” Sans reached over, and quickly pulled Edge to him. His hand went directly into his own shirt. He grabbed his lowest rib, dragged the unusally long fingers two bones up, and scratched hard along the length of it.

“AHHHH!” Edge went bright blue. “THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?!”

“IF YOU BREAK CHARACTER THIS EASILY, THIS WON’T WORK.” Sans went for another spot, stroking under the sternum. “I DON’T SCREAM LIKE THAT. I DON’T MAKE MUCH NOISE AT ALL.”

Edge fought against the urge to moan, biting down and growling. “I just needed a little warning.” He spun around and cupped Sans crotch. “You’ll struggle with Paps then. He likes vocals.” Edge pulled the pants down a ways. He hooked some fingers into his pelvis.

“AHH. YOU’RE JUST NOT THAT EXCITING BASTARD.” And Sans watched him drop to his knees. 

“Think of Paps then.” Sans felt Edge’s breath against his bare pelvis. “He makes the best sounds when I eat out his sweet pussy.” Sans eyelights blipped out the same time Edge pressed a tongue flat against his pelvis.

“FUUUUUUCK.” 

“Language.” Sans glared down at his crotch, but Edge winked and licked up his forming magic.

“YOU’RE PRETTY GOOD AAAAAAAT THIS.” He trailed a hand over Edge’s (his own?) cheek. “I THINK I UNDERSTAND. BUT RED’S GOT A DIFFERENT THING HE WANTS TO HEAR.” Sans pulled Edge up, and into his lap on the nearby bench. He positioned Edge to straddle him and ground up with a purpose.

“Do you…top or bottom?” Edge held in the sound before continuing. “Paps and m-me switch it up sometimes, but I lead mostly.”

“WE’RE LAZY. IT’S WHATEVER EACH TIME, BUT SHUT UP AND PAY ATTENTION.” Sans gripped Edge’s hips and really rubbed their bones together. Edge hazed out a second, but tried to focus on the words coming out of his old mouth. “YOU’RE SO BEAUTIFUL LIKE THIS.” Sans leaned in to lap at the collarbone he could reach through the shirt.

“Shut up…”

“YOU’RE SO GOOD TO ME. SO GOOD FOR ME.” The words were spoken against his throat. Edge wanted to scoff, but he held it in with everything else. “I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU.” 

“He wants fluffy nonsense?” The lack of warmth startled him. The intensity of Sans’s glare almost knocked him over.

“YOU BETTER TREAT HIM LIKE HE’S AS GREAT AS ME, LAZY BASTARD. IT’S NOT THAT FUCKING HARD.” A hand gripped the back of his head to guide his eyes. “NOW, LET ME PULL DOWN YOUR FUCKING PANTS AND GET THIS OVER WITH.”

“Who said you’re fucking me, asshole?” Edge also didn’t stop him from pulling his pants down enough so the could fuck almost fully clothed on this bench. Thank god for neither being prone to summoning an ectobody. Fingers roughly crooked inside him.

“THIS PUSSY YOU SUMMONED.” Sans moved him a little cautiously, he didn’t want to make it wholly unenjoyable, but Edge was the last person he’d have chosen to do this with and he wasn’t feeling particularly giving. After some minimal fingering, he lined them up and dropped him.

“MMm!” Edge struggled but wiggled his hips until the ache dulled down. Sans may be smirking at him, but two could play this game. 

“How’s your endurance?” Edge started a positively delicious pace, very quickly moving on the cock impaling him. He breathed through the pleasure, keeping him behind where Sans was, hopefully. The grip on his hips suggested success.

“F-FINE. YOURS COULD USE SOME WORK THOUGH.”

“Wha-” A hand slid between his fold, stroking his clit in time with the thrusts. Edge devolved to soft breathy moans. He looked up at his own face and the look he shared with Sans got to be too much.

“FUCK!” They both peaked within 15 seconds of each other, riding it out until they slowed down to lay against each other and the bench, exhausted and filthy.

“I think...we can handle it.”

“AGREED.”

It took them another five minutes to part, another three to tidy up and check on the plan specifics, and one extra to take one glance back before walking off in opposite directions of their homes. To their unsuspecting brothers’ waiting arms.

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

Trying out this kinktober thing. If I don't finish kinktober, I'll finish this.

No beta-ing, we die inside like men