#i have this desire in me to respond as thoroughly as a possible not realising that means i will write a lot and then go oh. y did i do that

[gumi-writes]

i accidently sent your friend an ask i was gonna send you (common sense... i barely know her heart emoji) but yea the main thing i wanted to ask was if you had any more trivia about tien because wow they stir my frontal lobe like lentil soup... any idea for her routes? did you pick out a flower for her? i don't think ive seen that yet on your blog. minor trivia?

EDIT: LMAO THIS IS 1.4K WORDS LONG SO GOD HELP ME

yowza. you've done it now, anon (positive)! there's a lot under this cut but i wanted to answer everything and i'm incapable of not doing it as verbosely as possible LOL you have my apologies in advance <3

first off, i did get your previous messages passed onto me! please don't fret at all haha, at the very least, it was very flattering to be associated with them! in return, i will be very normal about about your asks and in fact only reread them a reasonable amount of times, i promise.

honestly, this entire thing was so incredibly written lmfao. you blast me with a compliment on the character design then plonk one of the most thoughtful examination of monster vs humanity alongside the discussion of nurture vs nature i've ever seen? never in all my years on tumblr has an anon ever micdropped me like that HAHA i have to at least try to return the favour!

monstrosity as something that's nurtured, or imposed, or chosen, or innate... my initial thought that it's probably a combination of everything BUT personal choice, and a part of that stems from the kind of thing survival in this world seems to demand in the first place. death is cheap, and monsters freely roam what seems to be a world on its last legs—is a choice between surviving and having the means to survive or dying really a choice at all? is it not more a matter of a forced hand or simply a cornering that you either get out of or die from? some part of it must be innate, or there'd be nothing to nurture. another portion must be imposed, because that is what happens when you have no say. most of all is the fact the threshold for violence that the world enforces on you means that you have to meet it somehow—through grit, or strength, or something.

and tiên's response was answered for her, in a sense—to become a manmade monster with little to fear but with all the ennui dogging the heels of her manufactured nigh functional invincibility, and an unbreakable leash binding her to the hand that would never give up their favourite toy. even with all her all her strength, there's a strange defeatism about her—that she cannot fight the hand that's fed her, that she would rid them of herself, but she has just enough pride to strive for the ambition of dying for something worthwhile so that at least at the very last her power might be good for something in her life.

if that makes sense. :P but i'll finish this section by letting you know that iron maiden was actually @/laymes-arts suggestion! i'm quite enamoured with it myself!

as for her route, i do actually have a lot of thoughts considering i conceptualised her as a fake love interest! i always thought it was a little interesting that we didn't get someone from the senobium as an option (vere technically doesn't count, considering he feels like an outside contractor but like one forced into that position, so to speak), so her initial role as nun was made in partial response to that!

but it was going to be a route that really toyed with the player/mc's sense of suspicion and ability to trust her even though she was their chosen character. you were going to get embroiled in a mystery of these curious corpses with no visible wounds while rumours of a serial killer lay afoot, all the while having to navigate a tenuous new relationship in the potential hope that tiên would be the key into getting into the senobium and getting the information to a blessed cure. of course, then you'd find out that she is behind these deaths, possibly during a midkill—and the thing about tiên is that she doesn't like inflicting violence on other people, not quite out of altruism but because it's a waste of her strength, so she kills them rather gently, by kissing them and then pouring her blood into their lungs and then taking it back out again after they die of what is essentially drowning. she'd then of course reveal her role as a nun to basically be just a front for her actual purpose: the senobium's favoured weapon and their enemies' biggest threat. potentially something you yourself, or rather, the mc themselves, was going to become, so it was up to you whether or not that was a dealbreaker. i also floated around the idea of tiên appearing in other character's bad endings, wherein she'd get sent after them by the senobium and well. if it's one thing i made tiên for, it was her ability to win in a fight every time HAHA

and yep! i've both picked a flower and @/laymes-art has a flower portrait in progress haha! but i gave her the foxglove! there's various reasons, but the main reasons were that:

i thought it was fun that it was an abbreviation of folk's glove, wherein folk refers to faefolk, and tiên's name means fairy in vietnamese

it's a flower used in healing but can be poisonous in large amounts, which reminded me of tiên's relationship with her blood—both a source of her strength and what is keeping her alive and functionally immortal, but also the reason behind her body's endless chronic pain and the inability to deny those that made her into what she is access to her abilities and strength, given that the other half of her halved monster's heart is with them

the flower itself kind of looks like it has blood spots on the inner petals

and i always have trivia haha, but i'll throw out a couple more here:

her blood, on it's own, is not toxic to drink. the problem is, however, that it is incredibly emphatic to it's owner, and because of tiên's facial blindness and complete lack of social skills or experience, most people are simply foreign, faceless entities to her. as a result, her blood treats them as it would any foreign intruder in her body—much like it would purge any toxin or alcohol, it will attempt to to the same to any person that tiên has no pre-existing relationship with. which, given that that's a large portion of the population, the senobium are fond of drawing blood from her and utilising it both as a method of torture AND a potential avenue of experimentation, should they luck out and manage to make another tiên.

when her blood is ingested, she forms temporary, one way psychic connections with people where she can feel how they're feeling. given that her own emotions are very muted, this is honestly her only opportunity to connect with any kind of humanity, though this does mean that she's felt every death that has had her blood in someone. if you are a repeat drinker (somehow), tiên will instinctively always know where you are, which does help override her facial blindness to some extent.

tiên's method of differentiating between people is very simplistic: either you're the people who made her into who she is now, or you're not. as a result, she has alarmingly low standards of how she's treated—so long as you do not torture her extensively or force her to kill, you'll be on fine terms with her. that being said, this trait is offset by both strength and unflappability—at the very least, it's very hard to bully someone that does not react.

more fun little facts: given blood's role in regulating the body's temperature, tiên has perfect control over how hot or cool she is + she smells very sweet but with a tinge of iron, like bloodied honey + she has absolutely no social skills and only gets away with it because she barely initiates conversation + she genuinely thinks she's forgettable because almost no one approaches her + she has a garden in the ruins in an abandoned church, where all the flowers have grown after being watered by her blood

phew! okay! i have. a lot more honestly, but this is looking worrying long LMAO. thank you if you've gotten this far, but even if you skimmed it, i appreciated the opportunity to write all this out HAHA, it was mostly just sitting in my head anyway.

either way anon... it's insane to think that my oc could have this kind of impact on someone else, so like i hope my response showcased my thanks and gratitude at least a little bit??? HAHA at the very least, i'll be thinking about your ask and mining it for serotonin for like the next long while!

[jellybonbons]

Sweet Tooth or Sweet Cravings?

Kenji Sato x fem!reader

Summary: When a chocolate company sent Ken a PR package, he ate the chocolates without thoroughly inspecting them, and, well...things took an unexpected turn.

CW: 18+ (mdni), established relationship, aphrodisiac chocolates, implied panty sniffing, masturbation, fingering, squirting, creampie, unprotected sex, pet names.

Words: 1.5k

AN: this is just an excuse for me to write him like he's in heat :3

Today 4:12 PM

Ken <3: can you come home? its an emergency

The moment you saw his text, your heart skipped a beat. Without a second thought, you clocked out early and made a beeline for the parking lot. You had never driven so fast in your life, and you were sure you almost broke the gas pedal from how hard your heels were pressing on it. 

The city streets blurred past you, your mind racing with worry and a thousand scenarios of what could have gone wrong. You barely noticed the honking horns or the changing traffic lights, and your focus was solely on getting to Ken as quickly as possible.

As you reached Ken's home, you punched in the code with shaking fingers, and the door swung open almost instantly. You dropped your bag near the entrance, not caring where it landed, and stumbled inside, quickly sliding off your heels as you hurried to find him.

Rounding the corner into the living room, you saw Ken from behind, his broad shoulders rising and falling with each laboured breath. "Ken, are you ok–" The sight caught you off guard. There he was, panting heavily, glistening with sweat, eyes half-closed as he stroked his cock. It stood proudly and flushed in a deep red colour. His other hand clutched your panty from this morning.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry you have to–fuck,” the moment he saw you, his body tensed, and with a guttural moan, he finally came, his cum coating his hand and abdomen.

As he sprawled against the couch, you took a moment to look around the living room. Your eyes landed on a box of half-eaten chocolates on the coffee table. Curiosity piqued, you picked up the box and examined it closely. The label read "Aphrodisiac Chocolates" in a small, elegant script. Realisation dawned on you, and you couldn't help but let out a small, incredulous laugh. Ken had unknowingly consumed aphrodisiacs, and now the situation made a lot more sense.

You sat down next to him on the couch, eyes wide with concern. "Ken, what the hell? Are you okay?"

"I—I’m really sorry. I didn’t expect this... I think I overdid it with those chocolates."

"Those weren’t just chocolates, were they?"

"No, they were aphrodisiac chocolates. I didn’t check the label...clearly, I should have," he growled, frustration evident in his voice as he discarded your panty from his hand.

"Yeah, I can see that. It’s obvious they did more than just satisfy a sweet tooth," you smirked, leaning closer, your breath teasing against his ear.

"You’re not helping, you know." His eyes narrowed at you, a mix of frustration and desire burning within them.

Before you could respond, Ken, overwhelmed by the effects and your teasing, pulled you down onto him. He ground his hard-on between your thighs, his breath coming out in ragged bursts as he tried to find some relief.

"Ken, what—" You gasped, your voice filled with surprise.

"I need you. Right now. Please, help me." His voice was husky and urgent, his need unmistakable.

–

You lost track of time, the sky outside turning dark as the house became dimly lit. Your clothes were strewn everywhere, and he had taken you on every possible surface – from the coffee table to the expansive living room window overlooking the ocean, and now on his bed. 

He didn't hesitate for a moment, his desire insatiable. Somehow, he even managed to feed you the aphrodisiac chocolates during heated kisses, deepening the intensity of your connection with each touch and taste that seemed impossible to quench.

"Baby," you moaned, your voice trembling with need. He had your hands pinned against the headboard, his grip firm and unyielding. His chest pressed against your back, warm and solid, as his fingers delved into your wet cunt, moving with a relentless rhythm that left you breathless.

The squelching sound filled the room, adding to the erotic symphony that drove him even harder. Your back arched with every expert stroke, each thrust of his fingers hitting the perfect spot over and over, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

“Ken, wait!” you gasped, feeling a strange pressure building within you. “I feel like I’m gonna pee.”

He didn’t falter for a second, his fingers maintaining their relentless rhythm. “Just let go, princess,” he murmured, his voice a mix of encouragement and command. “The sheets are already dirty anyway.”

His words and the relentless thrusting of his fingers broke down your resistance. With a cry of both pleasure and relief, you let go, your body trembling as you squirted, the sensation overwhelming. Ken’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he continued to work you through it, his fingers drenched in your release.

“Atta girl,” he murmured, his voice low and approving. “Just like that.”

As Ken finally released your hands, you let them slide down, resting them beside you—the dampness of the wet sheets clinging uncomfortably to your skin, causing you to grimace. You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm the rapid pace of your breathing, and allowed yourself a moment to regain composure.

Ken, still insatiable and eager, looked at you with a determined glint in his eyes. “It’s my turn now,” he said, his voice rough with need. You, sore and spent, protested weakly, “Baby, I’m so beat... I don’t know if I can handle much more.”

He silenced your concerns with a reassuring smile and a quick, decisive movement. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything,” he said, his tone filled with confidence. With a firm grip, he lifted you effortlessly and positioned you on his lap, your legs spread and held against your chest. He manoeuvred you into a perfect angle and guided his hard cock to your still-sensitive cunt.

“Fuck, Ken, too deep!” you cried out, your voice trembling as you struggled to adjust to the overwhelming sensation. Saliva dribbled from your lips, a testament to the intense pleasure and exhaustion.

Ken's voice was a low, teasing murmur against your ear. “But you love it when I go deep like this,” he cooed, his tone dripping with mockery. He squeezed you closer, his grip firm and possessive, restricting your movements and trapping you in place. 

The way he moved, controlling every motion and maximising your pleasure, made you feel like nothing more than his personal plaything, his fleshlight. Each powerful thrust sent your breasts bouncing. Your head leaned back against him, the sensation overwhelming as his movements were both demanding and dominant, ensuring you felt every inch of him, leaving you breathless and helpless under his command.

Finally, with a guttural groan that reverberated through the room, Ken’s body tensed, and a shudder ran through him as he reached his peak. His hot cum spilling deeply inside you, a wave of warmth that filled you completely.

He collapsed against you, his breath coming in deep, shuddering gasps as he buried his face in your hair, staying fully inside you. As he caught his breath, he managed to joke through his ragged breaths, “I think I’ll have to give that chocolate company a review —'5 stars for effectiveness!'”

You weakly slapped his arms, a small, affectionate smile tugging at your lips despite the fatigue. “You’re impossible,” you murmured, barely able to muster the energy to respond.

He then gently shifted his position, moving his hand to cup your chin and guide your face towards his. His eyes, soft and tender, met yours as he leaned in to press a gentle, affectionate kiss to your lips. 

Pulling back slightly, he whispered with a teasing smile, “But you love me.” 

“Unfortunately.” You responded with a playful sigh.

–

You were scrolling through your phone during lunch, your thoughts drifting as you ate, when a familiar company caught your eye. You paused, intrigued by a screenshot of a review with the username Notkensato07. The review was under a popular chocolate company, and as you read the lines, you couldn’t help but groan.

Notkensato07: ★★★★★

"Absolutely incredible! I tried the aphrodisiac chocolates and they were so effective, my girlfriend’s still recovering. If you want a taste of heaven—and maybe a little bit of chaos—this is your go-to. 5 stars, but if I could give it more, I would!

⤷ 241 replies

g0urmetguru: More than 5, huh? That’s some serious praise. I’m curious, how long did the effects last? Asking for a friend 😉

sillysocks76: IS THIS KEN SATO?

ChefRemyDaRat: Wow, talk about a rave review! If it’s that good, I’m buying a box for sure 🔥

chocolateroses: LMAOOO! I hope your girlfriend’s recovery is going well, man!

SweetToothSteve: Wow, this sounds wild! I’ve heard aphrodisiac chocolates are hit-or-miss, but this sounds like a game-changer. Guess I’ll be adding these to my shopping list!

jellybonbons: Nah, that’s cap.

  ⤷ chikinuggie: You’re just salty because you got no hoes.

   ⤷jellybonbons:  (comment removed for harassment) 

     ⤷jellybonbons: Wtf? why is my comment removed n not chikin for bullying?!

      ⤷ chikinuggie: The truth hurts, doesn’t it?

        ⤷ SweetToothSteve: Alright, kids, play nice! ����

–

Shocked by the boldness of his review, you yelled out his name in disbelief, “SATO!”

Ken, who had been skipping around the living room as part of his exercise routine, froze mid-skip. The sudden outburst made him lose his rhythm, causing him to trip over his own feet. 

“Oh shit!”

Dividers by: @/chilumitos

[resowrites]

Rogue’s Company - oneshot.

Summary: Henry and his wife become parents…

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Wife!OC

Warnings: fluff, mention/some detail of birth (I’ve tried to write as sensitively as possible but please avoid if you’re unsure), banter/British humour, language, dialogue heavy, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 2095

A/N: This was supposed to go up next week but I’ve just got too much on. There are a few more pieces that I can post asap but I’m also happy to leave the story here - let me know if you want more.

Please note: as I've tried to write this story as both standalone oneshots and an ongoing series, I now have to use more imagery to flesh out this arc and I'm aware this may disappoint some of you. But I want you all to know, whether you're a regular reader of mine or not, I will always adore and support you no matter who you are or what you look like. Please also note: this is pure fiction (as in completely made up), and not in any way meant to reflect reality. Love you guys ~ R x

My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! Gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

Rogue's Company.

Her eyes adjusted slowly to the soft but unnatural light. At first, she didn't recognise the off-white walls, punctuated at intervals by bland pictures. After a while, she could hear a strange muffled sound. She realised someone was speaking. "Ollie? Are you awake?" It was Henry.

"W-where… am I?"

"The hospital, darling. You've been asleep the last six hours." Then it dawned on her. She'd given birth that morning.

"Where… where is he?" He smiled softly.

"He's fast asleep, as you should be. Come on, close your eyes." Henry smoothed her hair and hushed her softly, but a burning desire stopped her from slipping back into the depths of sleep. She had to see him.

"Where is he?" His brow furrowed slightly.

"He's just over there, darling. Don't you remember? He guzzled a whole bottle of milk and fell right to sleep…”

"Need to see him--" she tried to sit up slightly but pain shot through her stomach. Her grimace made Henry hold her down by the shoulders.

"Oh no you don't. You've got to try and relax for me darling, or you'll hurt worse." He eyed the buzzer above the bed, wondering if he should call the nurse. That morning suddenly flooded back to her. She remembered the high blue screen, the nauseating sensation as her stomach was pulled apart until… cries. Soft at first and then harder, stronger. They'd had a son. Her need to see him grew desperate.

"Darling, please. I must see him." Henry bit his lip but decided the only thing to do was to wheel the trolley over to her side. He did so painfully slowly, eager not to wake the little bundle wrapped within it. When Henry finally came to a stop, a smile spread across his face. Her eyes were glued to him immediately. Swathed in a white blanket and fitted with a tiny knitted hat, their baby boy was divine. His small fists were bundled up by his cheeks but his bottom lip stuck out, making his expression carefree.

"He's so lovely, isn't he?" He whispered though she could hardly find the words. Instead, tears filled her exhausted, heavy eyes. Henry gently wiped her face as her eyes screwed shut. "Oh darling, you're in pain aren't you?" When she didn't respond, he pressed the red button to the top left of her hospital bed. Moments later, an older woman in bright blue scrubs breezed into the room.

"Good afternoon Mr. and Mrs. Cavill! I was just about to check on you both. How are you dear? Is your stomach giving you grief?" But Ollie couldn't tear her eyes away from the small bundle to her left.

"Sorry, she's a bit preoccupied…" Henry nodded toward their son.

"Ah, well that's alright. I just need to do a couple of checks and then I can bring you both up some dinner if you’d like?" He tried repeating the offer to his wife but her attention was still fixed solely on their little boy. The nurse went about checking her as quickly and carefully as she could. She also gave her some stronger pain relief. But instead of feeling sleepy, Ollie rallied and became fully aware that she was now a mother. Her sobs came hard and fast.

"Darling, what is it?" The nurse patted Henry gently on the arm.

"It's alright, it's just overwhelming isn't it?" Ollie nodded, somewhat embarrassed that she was feeling so overcome. "I just need to take him for a few minutes so I can see how he's doing as well?" She felt reluctant for anyone to go anywhere near him, but she was hardly in a position to resist. He stroked her hand and reassured her when she could hear their little boy stir the minute he was placed on a table at the other end of the room.

"Is he alright?! You're not hurting him?!" Henry and the nurse chuckled.

"He's fine darling! And I'm sure once the nurse is done she'll let you hold him?" He looked over at her for confirmation.

"Yes, of course! But you'll have to support his bottom, she won't be strong enough just yet to hold him by herself. Let me see now, he's still six pounds, three ounces, and eighteen inches long…" Ollie craned her neck to try and get a better view.

"Has he still got two balls?" She swatted Henry with her hand but immediately regretted it when the sensation reverberated through her stomach. She gathered her strength to try and sit up properly. He dashed to help her.

"I'm fine love, stop fussing over me… are those measurements okay? It seems pretty small." The nurse smiled softly as she put their son back in his babygrow.

"It's somewhat on the small side but he's all good, you've got a very sweet little boy. Well, I'll leave you three to it. I'll be back with dinner in about half an hour, if you need help using the bathroom just buzz. For now, try and get some rest and when you're ready with a name, just let me know." She then smiled, handed their son over to Henry, and made her way from the room. For a while, he just stood holding him, rocking gently back and forth. His whimpering hadn't quite died down but Ollie couldn’t stand it any longer.

"Henry, I can't see him! Please, put him on my chest--"

"Alright, alright, here he is…" Henry ducked down, careful not to put too much pressure on either her chest or stomach. Immediately she was struck by his eyes - bright blue like his father’s. She felt her lip tremble. He just chuckled softly. "So… what do you think? He woke up an hour after you fell asleep and just gurgled away happily in his cot. He hasn't cried once!" She stared down at his little face and felt a strange sensation spread through her chest. It was pure, unconditional love.

"He's… glorious. Even though he looks just like you!" It was true. From the dark tufts of hair on his head to the strong jaw and double chin, there was no denying who his father was.

"Yeah, but he's got your ears, look," Henry rotated him slightly so she could see the side of his head.

"Well that's a relief…" They both laughed. “Wow. I can't believe we made that…" He laughed again.

"I know, I still can't even believe he's here! It feels like only yesterday you told me you were pregnant…" Henry kissed her cheek for what felt like the hundredth time that day. But her eyes were still glued to their son who was cooing to himself.

"Bloody hell… he's chatty like you as well."

"You should have heard him earlier, he was having a whole conversation with the nurse--" He lifted him up to place him back in the cot.

"No, don't. Don't take him away!"

"But darling my arm's going dead! I'm just putting him back down for a little while so you can rest…"

"Fine, but pull that trolley down a bit so I can still see him…" Henry did as he was told, smiling at her enraptured face.

"So, I take it you're pleased then?"

"Pleased? I'm besotted. I never want him out of my sight again--"

"You know you cried and cried when they had to take him away to clean him up?" Her eyes narrowed.

"Really? I have no memory of that…" A pit opened in his stomach.

"Do you remember him being born?" She tried to think.

"Only in fragments. I remember his cries, and that he was all slippery. Apart from that my head's still foggy." Henry crouched over and stroked her head.

"It'll probably come back to you as you recover. The surgeon also did a great job, the incision wasn't that big as he's only a wee thing--"

"It certainly doesn't feel small…" She winced as her mind fell back to the soreness she could feel at the base of her stomach.

"Well, give the drugs a chance to kick in, and if you don't feel better in a little while I'll call the nurse back. So, do we have a name?" A small smile curled her lips.

"Yep. Hal."

"Hal?"

"Yeah, don't you like it?"

"Of course, but why that name?"

"Don't you know your Shakespeare? It's short for Henry. You know, as in Henry IV? And you call yourself an actor—"

"You… you wanna name our boy after me?"

"Well, technically Henry V…" She smiled mischievously but he was too choked to speak. "What I also like is that it rhymes with Kal." Henry snorted.

"Hmm, are you sure you don't want to wait until the morphine wears off?" She gave him a knowing look. "Fine, Hal it is! But if he's named after me then it's only fair he's named after you as well--"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean his middle name should be Oliver. What do you think?"

"My name isn’t Oliver, you little shit!" She went to thwack Henry only for the pain to pull her back to the bed. He smirked.

"Mmm, it’s gunna be a fun couple of weeks… and technically it is! You were named after Oliver—"

"Yes, yes, alright. Hal Oliver, it is. Poor little sod. Well, in for a penny, in a pound, let's use another of your names—"

"What, you mean Dalgliesh?"

"No, you twat, William." Henry snorted but felt pride swelling in his chest once again.

"Hal Oliver William. You know that spells 'How?' He could go by Howie—"

"Yeah, no." He laughed.

"Well 'Hal's' perfect, just like him. And his Mum." Henry leaned closer to kiss her on the forehead. "Well done, darling. I'm so, so proud of you."

"I'm just grateful he's here and doing okay--"

"Me too. Can you believe we're parents? It feels so weird!"

"It does. But in a way, it also feels like he's always been here, as a part of us… I know that doesn't make sense."

"No, I know what you mean. I just couldn't imagine life without him now. We're a family of five! Oh my God, my mum and dad are going to be so thrilled—"

"Have you told them yet?"

"Yeah, though I haven't sent a picture. I wanted to wait until you were awake. Shall I take one of you holding him? That way we can send it to everyone?" She smiled and nodded. But just as he went to pick up their son, the nurse shuffled back into the room wheeling a tray of fresh sandwiches and a bowl of strawberries. "Oh, great, I'm hungry." Ollie giggled and the nurse smiled in her direction.

"Well, I'm glad to see you looking a bit brighter! Just let me quickly check you over again and then I'll get out of your hair. How are you feeling now?"

"Elated," she sighed.

"He is a gorgeous little thing. The spitting image of his father, right down to the chin!"

"It's alright, I still love him…" Henry and the nurse burst out laughing.

"So, have you settled on a name?" They smiled at each other.

"Yes, our son is called Hal Oliver William," her voice broke.

"What is it, darling?!"

"It's nothing, it's just… that's the first time I've ever called him our son." He brushed the tears from his own cheeks and gave her another kiss.

"Aww, that's wonderful! I'm so thrilled for you both. And it looks like you're recovering well, your blood pressure's good too. When you're feeling a little stronger, you can have a walk around and take a shower. All being well, you can all head home in the next day or so. Well, I'll leave you three in peace. Just buzz if you need anything." In a whirl, she was gone. Henry began breaking the sandwiches into smaller pieces so he could feed Ollie directly. Normally she'd have fed herself but she was grateful for the help as her whole body still ached from the procedure.

"There we are, just try and have a little bit for me." He beamed at her, still feeling shocked and relieved it was all over. Henry knew their lives would never be the same, but already parenthood was proving to be so much better than he'd expected. He felt like the three of them could take on the world. "Well, my darling girl, are you happy?" She swallowed her small mouthful and gazed up at Henry.

"The happiest I've ever been in my whole life."

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@elizabetharegina @fanfictionaddiction99 @luclittlepond @caffeinatedfestivalsheep @summersong69 @ushijimbo @livesinfantasyland @jackjanira

[lothiriel84]

Only As It Gives You Pleasure

They had been married for a twelvemonth when Elizabeth had the sort of epiphany she had hardly expected to experience, even less after undergoing such a material change of feelings towards her dearest husband since the start of her acquaintance.

A Pride and Prejudice ficlet. Asexual (and possibly aromantic?) spectrum!Elizabeth.

They had been married for a twelvemonth when Elizabeth had the sort of epiphany she had hardly expected to experience, even less after undergoing such a material change of feelings towards her dearest husband since the start of her acquaintance. For all that she now knew he had singled her out almost from the beginning – and despite his own determined attempts to nip his nascent regard for her in the bud – she was equally aware that her own affections had not been engaged until much later, when she was all but sure there was no chance he would ever consider renewing his addresses.

As for her earlier animosity towards him, she naturally put it down to the slight she had received from him at the Meryton assembly, and his subsequent behaviour in what he perceived to be lower company; and while she might admit to some enjoyment of their sparring, she thought of it as a subtle way to put him in his place, as well as to manifest her continued displeasure in his haughty, prideful conduct. She was therefore completely befuddled when Georgiana, of all people, started displaying a similar manner whenever she happened to be in the company of a particular gentleman of her acquaintance.

“I can’t fathom why she should despise Sir Robert this much, that is all,” she pondered idly one evening, as she joined her husband in the library after a quick visit to the nursery. Anne Elizabeth Darcy was sleeping soundly in her cot, much to her mother’s delight. “He is a most amiable young man, I am sure.”

Fitzwilliam Darcy arched a single eyebrow in response to such a pronouncement, and appeared genuinely convinced that his wife was intent on teasing him. “I can assure you, I had a most interesting conversation with the young lady last night. You may rest assured I will grant my consent, when the time comes.”

“William! How can you speak so? It is hardly in your sister’s nature to disagree with anyone, and it would never do to encourage a match between them when she clearly feels such animosity towards the gentleman in question.”

The look on her husband’s face clearly expressed his conviction that she was being particularly obtuse on purpose. “Georgiana told me in confidence she feels it too early to determine whether she is in love, but she did not attempt to deny she holds the gentleman in high regard; it is clear to me she has been drawn to Sir Robert right from the start of their acquaintance, and I for one delight in her vivacious response to his – thus far unofficial – courtship.”

Elizabeth blinked, wondering at how she could have misread the entire situation. “I thought,” she started, only to trail off as she quickly realised she had no desire to bring up the unpleasantness of her past conduct.

“You thought the liveliness of their banter was much too reminiscent of the early days of our acquaintance, did you not?” her husband enquired after a long pause, his eyes fixed on her as if intent on reading her innermost thoughts.

“I am sorry, William, I did not mean to imply – I’m the one who said that we should only think of the past as it gives us pleasure, after all.”

Darcy waved away her concern, his thoughts seemingly taking an entirely different direction. “You know, I have always wondered – I am well aware of how seriously displeased you were with me at the time, and yet – there was something in the way you responded to my presence, I feel sure of it.”

“I wish it were so, husband dear, but I fear I did not come to love you until I had been proven thoroughly wrong in my sketching of your character up to that point.”

She was more than a little surprised to see the colour rise to his cheeks, and he looked more than a little uncomfortable when he finally spoke again. “I wasn’t referring to – I mean to say, I – I know this is hardly proper as a subject of conversation, but – when we danced at Netherfield, and even after my – that is to say, when we were both at Rosings, I,” he closed his eyes briefly, then shook his head. “Best we forget I mentioned this, I think. There’s scarcely any point in dwelling on the past, as you said yourself.”

Elizabeth’s mind had been busily unravelling the puzzle of her husband’s incoherent remarks, which, when paired with the insight he had offered into Georgiana’s most recent behaviour, led her to a most incredible conclusion. “Are you asking me whether I was drawn to you, dear husband, even while I clearly held you in no regard whatsoever?”

“I – the thought had crossed my mind, yes,” he admitted, in that stilted manner he assumed when faced with embarrassment. “My foolish pride again, I presume.”

His wife opened her mouth to offer a witty repartee, only to snap it shut when a sudden flash of clarity opened an entirely new understanding of her own character. “Had you asked me at any point over the past two years, I would have laughed you out of the room. And yet – I cannot honestly discard the possibility that you might in fact be correct in your assessment.”

He offered her a somewhat doubtful glance. “Surely you would have known it sooner, had that been the case. You had been out for some time by that point, and some other gentleman was bound to have caught your eye before, or even – after.”

Elizabeth coloured a little at such an indirect allusion to George Wickham. What a foolish girl she had been, accepting Wickham’s lies for the truth, and yet – she had not once experienced that particular feeling in his presence, she now realised. Her affections might have been briefly engaged – or would have been, had they been allowed to continue their acquaintance in such a way as she had been wishing for at the time – but as a married woman, she could now tell the difference between regard, and, well, desire.

“I can’t say they ever did,” she shook her head. “Oh, do not misunderstand me – I had my share of short-lived infatuations, as any other girl my age, but I do not think I have ever looked upon a gentleman in such a way as I did you. I cannot say I recognised it at the time, and I haven’t given it much thought ever since, but I – I thank you for teaching this about myself, though I am not sure what to do with such knowledge now.”

Any devoted husband half as much in love as Mr Darcy was could scarcely be expected to react to this kind of declaration in a sensible manner; Elizabeth found she had no objections of her own to meeting his ardour in kind, and a very pleasant half hour was spent as a direct consequence.

“I hope Georgiana and Sir Robert are very happy,” she murmured at length, her head still nestled under her husband’s chin. “I know we are,” she smiled up at him, and was rewarded with a most tender kiss for her trouble.

[mypoisonedvine]

Hi hello I keep thinking about somnophilia with Zemo mix in some breeding kink and hnnng

mannn I wanna make this as dark as possible so we're gonna get wild with this one... warnings for noncon (somnophilia, duh), drugging, breeding kink, brief reference to abortion, implied kidnapping/forced marriage and zemo being The Worst

You really should've known better than to accept a drink that Baron Helmut Zemo offered you.

But, in your defense, it seemed like a peace offering at the time, and you were trying to be a good teammate to Sam and Bucky by tolerating this guy even though he gave you the creeps.

"Cherry blossom tea?" he proposed as he extended a mug to you, the dark pink liquid inside steaming and warming your face.

"Thank you," you nodded, trying to ignore the way your fingers brushed over his when you took the drink from his hands.

The drug wasn't fast-acting, because that wasn't what it was meant for. It was meant to keep you sedated through almost any stimulation, but to pass through your system undetected; to you, it would seem like a normal night of sleep.

In fact, it almost looked like normal sleep when Zemo snuck into your room that night, making him almost worry that it hadn't taken effect. Except, of course, that he trusted the chemistry and he suspected that he couldn't have even opened your bedroom door without waking you if you were unaffected. He just worried simply because the stakes were so high if he got caught.

A small part of him almost wanted to get caught, though, even if he knew Sam or James wouldn't hesitate to kill him if they found him using you in this way. Honestly, even if you were alert and consenting they would probably still kill him for it. But it might be fun to watch them realise what he had done to you.

And you... if you knew the ways he was going to defile you, you would be horrified. And as gratifying as that could be to some, the truth was that the Baron would rather see you submit than struggle. He longed to see your smile, to feel your touch and return it in a way that was wanted. But, knowing that was impossible, he had to resort to other means.

Further, he had purpose for you far beyond gratification. See, after careful consideration, Helmut had realized that you would be the perfect candidate to carry a new heir. And even in a world where he could seduce you, he certainly couldn't get you to be bred willingly. No, his best bet was to impregnate you now, secretly, and do his best to make sure that by the time you found out, you were too attached to terminate. Or, perhaps, too imprisoned to be able to do anything but become his new and unwilling-but-convincable Baroness.

Of course, if he wanted to be especially inconspicuous, he could artificially inseminate you. But the natural way was going to be a lot more fun.

He slipped into bed with you, absorbed the warmth of you as he held your pliant body in his arms. You were distinctly and firmly unconscious, your breathing steady and your heartbeat strong if slow. He surprised himself with the way he was drawn to your sleeping form, to the neutral expression on your face. He was so used to seeing you scowl or glare at him, it was nice to see you like this.

"Draga," he mumbled to you as he pulled you closer, rolling you onto your back and finding a place between your legs. You only slept in a sports bra and underwear, a sight that had him hard in an instant even before he began to carefully undress you.

With your body fully exposed to him, he found you already a bit wet and wondered if you'd had a filthy dream earlier in the night... or if you'd been having naughty thoughts during the day. Honestly, with the way you acted so shy and anxious around him, he sort of suspected your disdain for him was not based only in fear but in an arousal that you hated. But he couldn't blame you... you were attracted to power. You knew he had that, and you couldn't forget it.

He slowly rubbed your clit with his thumb, watching you sleep soundly beneath him, feeling your cunt get warmer and wetter by the second. Two fingers into your channel made him force his eyes shut with a sigh to try to compose himself.

"You're tight, darling," he hissed into the silent air of the night. "Fuck, I hope I'll fit. If I hurt you too much you'll wake up sore tomorrow, and we can't have you fighting out about little baby Zemo until you're too far along for the pill, yes?"

Obviously, he didn't need to talk at all during this... but it sort of came naturally. It was nice to speak to you uninterrupted, for once.

"I'm going to get you ready for me, I'll be delicate with you, draga," he promised in a groan, twisting his fingers within you. "Believe it or not, I really have no desire to hurt you."

Your body shifted slightly and his heart raced for a second at the idea that you might be waking up. But instead you stayed asleep, though your mouth fell slack into a little sigh.

"Oh, can you feel it? Even in your sleep?" he wondered aloud with a smirk. "You like how my fingers feel inside you..."

He curled them again and another sleepy moan left you.

"I need to fuck you. I need to hear you moan for my cock," he grunted as he bent down and positioned himself at your entrance. Just pressing against you was nearly overwhelming, you were so warm he could hardly stand it. He couldn't even remember the last time he had been inside a woman... it would've been his wife, all those years ago, and the memory was so distant that it felt like trying to remember a dream.

But you were here, you were alive, you were real. And as he pushed his hips forward, he couldn't help but moan because you felt like heaven.

"Fuck," he hissed, looking down and seeing your eyes almost flutter, hearing you whimper slightly. "It won't be long, draga, I need to finish inside you. But I wish it could last forever..."

Considering the way your body responded to him so eagerly, considering how many years he had been alone and celibate even to the most innocent of touches, considering how quickly he had become enamored with you despite your clear hatred for him, it was a wonder he lasted as long as he did, but it was definitely not anywhere near forever. He held you close and kissed you everywhere he could reach, burying his face in the crook of your neck and breathing the warm, sweet scent of you until he was pumping every drop as deep into you as he could go. Once he was sure you were full to the brim, he still stayed within you for quite some time... after all, he had nowhere else he needed to be, and nowhere he wanted to be more than holding you.

When he pulled out, finally, after what must have been hours, he dressed you again and tried to erase what evidence he could of his presence.

Of course, his come leaking out of you was a pretty strong piece of evidence, but he had a plan for that.

"You had a dream," he whispered to you, indulging himself in softly kissing your ear, "about the Baron. Maybe you want to pretend that you don't know why, but you do. The dream left you so wet and desperate that you made this precious little mess in your panties, that's all, nothing else."

...hey, I never said it was a good plan, but it was still the only one he had.

He left your room as quietly as he entered it, making a quick stop by the kitchen to thoroughly wash the mug you had used for your tea, lest you suspect something and take the time to test it somehow.

But the way your eyes dodged him the next morning, the way you were suddenly all out of snide remarks and sickened glares, made it clear that you really had dreamed of him. Maybe you dreamed of him even before he entered your room, but he would never know that for sure.

What he did know for sure was that even if the chances were somewhat slim that you were carrying his heir, he was going to take you for himself the absolute second that he had the chance, and make absolutely sure that you were. You were going to make a lovely wife, once you realised he was never going to let you go.

[sunflowersoonyoung]

the best stress relief | wooseok

w.c ↠ 1.5k

pairing ↠ wooseok x fem!reader

genre/s ↠ fluff, smut, public sex, college au!

description ↠ despite knowing fully well that wooseok would only end up distracting you, the offer to have him join you whilst you studied was far too tantalising for you to reject.

warning/s ↠ suggestive themes, cursing, unprotected sex.

a/n ↠ hey guys~! this was requested by @beautifulmess0103. whilst I do not plan on accepting requests on this blog, I was inspired by this idea. I think it turned out relatively well~

-

Pale moonlight streaked between the blinds as you thumbed through pages of a textbook. An ominous silence rang across the college library, buzzing against your ears. The stuffy scent and lack of noise was a little suffocating, and as time passed you felt your attention waning.

It was strange to have the entire room to yourself. Usually, there would be at least a handful of students hurriedly skimming through books, faces illuminated by the lights of their laptops. After all, procrastination was a common issue.

Your phone lit up and you breathed a sigh of relief, taking the opportunity to take a break from studying just for a moment. Unsurprisingly, it was a text from your boyfriend, Wooseok.

Jung Wooseok:

Still at the library? Want me to keep you company?

The offer was deliciously tempting, but also a very bad idea. One way or another, Wooseok would end up distracting you. And this assignment was due far too soon for you to risk losing time. Despite your reservations over inviting him, you were almost afraid of the eerie quiet that hung in the air. Some company would be nice, you thought, responding to his text with a curt “yes please”.

Wooseok arrived only minutes later, casually striding between two bookshelves with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his sweatpants. He shrugged his hood off as he approached, raking through his fluffy raven hair with his fingers.

“Hey,” he greeted with a husky voice, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. He sunk into the chair opposite you, taking in the clutter of textbooks encircling you on the table surface.

“Busy?” He inquired, head relaxing against his palm as he observed you through his owl-like eyes.

“Very much so,” you exhaled.

Wooseok nodded, tugging his phone from his pocket, “I’ll try not to distract you, then.”

It was moments like these that you treasured him the most; moments in which he silently accompanied you, assuring that you were not alone, comfortable in his presence. He cared for you in his own subtle ways, and it never failed to fill you with warmth.

For a while, studying became much easier as you were warmed with joy, still fluttering from Wooseok’s considerate actions.

However, even with your sweet boyfriend’s presence, the paragraphs of printed words began to blur, your head throbbing dully. You attempted to urge yourself onwards, steeling yourself and chewing your lip in concentration. You were so absorbed in your reading that you failed to notice Wooseok’s onyx eyes, curiously drinking in your stressed expression.

Soon his phone was no longer of interest to him.

Perhaps it was the way you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip and furrowed your brow, wisps of hair falling over your forehead, eyes filled with desperation as you scanned the information laid out in front of you. It became apparent to him how deep his attraction for you ran, even when you were this wrought with stress.

“Hey,” he spoke before he could thoroughly inspect the idea, “want to try something?”

You hummed nonchalantly, absent-mindedly scrawling down an important point. You were halfway through writing when he answered, “can I touch you? Y’know, while you’re studying.”

The lead of your mechanical pencil snapped as you flinched, not expecting such a bold suggestion to leave his lips.

“Wh-what? Where did you get that idea? I…” you trailed off, swallowing hard and collecting yourself, “how would you even do that?”

Wooseok shot you a giddy grin and awkwardly slid beneath the table, struggling due to his slender limbs. You heard him knock his head on the table, followed by a muffled exclamation. A few more seconds passed in which you tried to crane your neck to capture a glimpse of him - gasping when his large palms smoothed over the inside of your thighs.

“Like this,” he explained, speaking casually as if he were not basically suggesting public sex.

“Wh-what if someone comes in?” You spluttered, growing hotter by the moment, nervously glancing around the room for any sign of a third presence.

“You’re stressed out, so you’re all wound up,” he hummed, “you know the chances are low. It’s a Friday night.”

He pressed his fingers between your legs, observing your response through his dark orbs. Goosebumps ran across your skin, arousal rising in your gut from both his warm touch and constant gaze.

“Keep working,” he muttered, a suggestion that proved impossible when he slid his hand between the crotch of your shorts and your thigh, pushing the fabric of your underwear aside so that his fingers had access to your burning core. Even the subtle graze of his fingertips against your pussy had you scrambling for the edge of the table to brace yourself.

“Wait, W-Wooseok, I’ll-,” your words dissolved into a garbled cry as one of his long fingers worked its way inside of you. He grinned, fucking you gradually till your slickness was sufficient enough for him to add a second finger. Your head lulled against the back of the chair, subconsciously parting your legs and raising your hips. A second groan slipped from your throat, so you clasped a hand to your mouth to prevent any more from escaping.

“Feels good, huh?” Wooseok commented, apparently enjoying the view. He unsheathed from you and popped his middle and forefinger into his mouth, simultaneously tasting you and lubricating them before filling you back up. It was a tight fit that had you grasping the side of the chair.

The friction felt incredible, but ultimately greed and lust had you desperate for more.

“I need more, Wooseok-ah,” you pleaded, “please.”

As if he had been waiting for those exact words, Wooseok removed his fingers. You stood numbly, legs wobbling as you helped him from beneath the table. He seemed distracted, gradually scanning the library. He apparently found what he was searching for (a hidden area to take you), interlacing his slick fingers with yours and tugging.

The corner of the library smelt strongly of dust and old paper, left mostly undisturbed by a majority of the students. If anyone were to enter abruptly, you would be shielded by the walls of shelving and would have time to stumble back into your pants before you were discovered.

Wooseok kissed you gently, his hands threading into your hair and drawing you as close to him as possible. You felt the sharp edges of the shelf press into your back, but you were too dizzied with desire to care. He hastily tugged your shorts and underpants down your legs, and you stepped out of them.

It was strange, being naked from the waist down in such a public area. Electric tension hung in the air, emanating from both of you in response to the nerve-wracking situation.

His cock loosely rested against his lower belly after you pulled down his sweatpants and boxers, and you sheathed the tip with your fist, sticky precum coating your skin. He groaned deeply, still kissing you.

“Turn around,” he purred, his thick lips grazing your ear. You shot him a sultry smile, licking the precum from your palm. His grasp grew rough and eager, turning you to face the bookshelf. You steaded yourself against the furnishing, eyes fluttering shut as the hot head of his cock ran over your exposed pussy.

Wooseok was deliberate as he filled you up, allowing you time to adjust to his thickness. You both huffed in pleasure when his hips eventually met your backside.

“I needed th-this, Wooseok,” You gasped, realising that this was the perfect remedy for your stress. He began fucking into you, increasing in intensity as you relaxed around him. His palm met the shelf above you, and when you tilted your head to observe him, heat washed over your figure, arousal practically dripping from between your legs.

His brows were furrowed, stands of soft black hair beginning to stick to his forehead. He met your gaze and smiled, exposing his teeth in a grin before slamming against you. You sobbed in pleasure, hanging your head and digging your nails into the wood.

“Touch yourself,” he breathed, and you wasted no time, burning one hand between your legs. Your clit was swollen and sensitive as you pressed the pad of your finger against it, pussy gripping onto his cock - earning a deep growl from Wooseok’s chest.

It did not take long for you to come around him, your cries of pleasure shattering the quiet atmosphere. His pace staggered, and he struggled to keep composure as your wetness increased tenfold. The sound would be humiliating if you were not as horny as you were, working yourself back against him out of hunger.

“Fuck,” Wooseok cursed, voice gravelly as he released inside you, his hips stuttering before he finally stopped. His breathing was heavy as he leaned over you, recovering from his orgasm.

You straightened, standing on the tips of your toes to kiss his cheek. Your shorts were pooled on the floor nearby; you tugged them back on and enjoyed the sight of a half-naked Wooseok for as long as you could before he matched your actions.

As you began trailing back towards your workspace, Wooseok interrupted you, long arms capturing you from behind. You savoured his embrace, soaking up his sweet warmth.

“Head clearer?” He inquired softly. Watching you wracked with stress, Wooseok had known well that you had needed his help to release stress.

“Yes. Thanks~.”

[hexensalbei]

play with fire

find on ao3

This is going to be a fun ride.

The silence in the car is scary because itʼs uncomfortable and that has never been a problem before. Buck shoots a quick glance at his friend. Eddieʼs eyes are fixated on the road, his jaw so clenched, Buck swears, he can hear his teeth gritting. His hands are on the steering wheel but his grip is so tight, his knuckles are white. Yeah, heʼs definitely mad.

The problem is that Buck doesnʼt know why Eddie is so furious.

Fine.

Maybe he knows. But that doesnʼt mean he understands. Heʼs never seen Eddie that angry. He remembers vividly when Eddie snapped at him in the grocery store right after the lawsuit—but itʼs just a pale comparison to his rage now. It doesnʼt make sense—because Buck didnʼt do anything stupid like another lawsuit—he just... He just did his job.

He risked his life to save someone elseʼs but he does it almost on a daily basis; Eddie does the exact same thing and yet, Buck has never snapped at him. So why is it different now?

Because you almost died today says an annoying voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like his sister.

Because you almost died in Eddieʼs fucking arms.

Buck tries to ignore it; he has to ignore it because if he doesnʼt, heʼll drown in guilt and shame. And probably wake up some long forgotten demons.

He canʼt re-live it again and again.

When they stop, he realises, theyʼre in front of Eddieʼs house and heʼs genuinely surprised his friend brought him here.

“This isnʼt my apartment.” He blurts out. He knows itʼs probably the dumbest thing he couldʼve said but he doesnʼt understand why Eddie took him to his home if heʼs pissed off at him. Itʼd be definitely easier to cool off if the source of his anger wasnʼt there, right? 

“Like hell Iʼm letting you stay alone after the shit you did.”

Thereʼs something in Eddieʼs voice that makes Buck squirm. He sounds angry, sure, but also hurt, broken. Resigned. He sounds exactly like when Shannon died.

Buck knows that because he was there. He remembers how mad Eddie was at his wife for leaving him and Christopher again, this time for good.

Eventually, Eddie gets out of the car and goes to the house. Buck quietly follows his best friendʼs footsteps and he flinches when Eddie drops off his bag on the floor.

“You can take a shower if you want, Iʼll make up the bed.”

He knows Buck too well; he knows that Buck hates the specific smell of the hospital and always tries to get rid of it as soon as possible. Buckʼs really grateful for that also because he can simply postpone their argument, just for a little bit. Maybe shower will help him cool off because heʼs irritated too but he doesnʼt truly want to fight with Eddie. He goes to the bathroom, takes off his clothes and steps under the shower. He lets the cold water run down his body and he really tries to calm himself; there was enough drama today and yeah, he almost died so he deserves to have a moment of uninterrupted peace. Or so he thinks. Heʼs getting more and more cold and he knows he should get out before Eddie will storm inside and drag him out of the shower. Buck wouldnʼt be even surprised if his friend did something like this.

Then, with a long sigh, he turns off the water and steps out of the shower. He quickly rinses himself with a towel and slips into his most comfortable clothes. Whatʼs a little funny and maybe even ironic, his favorite grey, worn out t-shirt is actually Eddieʼs and it even smells like him.

Crap.

He really needs to finally leave the bathroom and face his friend but heʼs trying to delay the inevitable by thoroughly brushing his teeth. And then, he doesnʼt find anything else he can do so he goes back to the living room. Heʼs quite surprised that he doesnʼt see the pillows or blanket on the couch because he thought heʼs gonna sleep there and heʼs even more surprised he doesnʼt see Eddie there. He finds him in the kitchen instead, leaning against the counter and nursing his favourite beer. Thereʼs a glimpse of hope in Buckʼs chest that maybe Eddie cooled off a little, that maybe he realised he has exaggerated and his anger isnʼt completely justified. Heʼs wrong, though. Eddie is not even slightly less annoyed and it takes Buck one look at his best friend to realise that.

He sighs again because Eddieʼs anger starts to get on his nerves. He moves closer until he stands against Eddie and looks him in the eye.

“Do what you have to do, letʼs get this over with.” He says with a tiredness in his voice. The only thing he wants right now is sleep, he wants to fall asleep and forget about the whole world for a couple of hours. “If you want to yell at me then be my guest and do it. I donʼt even care.”

“Oh, so now youʼre annoyed at me? Really?” Eddie asks wryly and sets aside the bottle with a little too much force, it almost smashes. Neither of them care anyway. Theyʼre now standing against each other, so close they almost hear each otherʼs heartbeat and they fix each other with a glare. 

“Yeah, I am. You act like Iʼve done something wrong, like I wasnʼt supposed to do this and—” 

Heʼs cut off by Eddie who lets out a humourless laugh and answers in a higher voice than usual. 

“God, do you even listen to yourself? You went to that building all by yourself, you disobeyed Bobbyʼs specific orders to not go there because youʼre you and youʼre above all the orders, right? It doesnʼt matter if Bobby did it because he didnʼt want to risk one of us dying there. But you just couldnʼt listen.”

“Funny thatʼs coming out from the man who cut his rope and almost died in the well.” Buck interjects viciously because heʼs truly angered by now.

Something flashes in Eddieʼs eyes but Buck canʼt name it. He doesnʼt even have the time to think about it because his best friend doesnʼt back out.

“Itʼs not relevant now, weʼre talking about today and your stupid, reckless behaviour. What were you thinking? Or-Or maybe donʼt. You probably werenʼt thinking at all. Obviously. And it almost cost you a life! Your life! How can you be so reckless?!” Eddie shouts and the pain in his voice is very noticeable but Buck pretends to ignore it.

“Iʼm a firefighter. Itʼs kinda in a job description, donʼt you think? Sometimes I have to be a little reckless. Besides, I did save a life and I didnʼt die either, right? Otherwise I wouldnʼt be standing there and listen to you being all pissed.” Buck shrugs like itʼs nothing, like he really doesnʼt care about his life. Itʼs probably another thing he shouldnʼt have said because Eddie straightens up and now, thereʼs almost no space between. For the second Buck thinks Eddie will lash out and just hit him. He kinda wishes he did. But Eddie only sighs heavily and rakes through his hair with frustration. 

“God, youʼre driving me crazy, Buckley. Youʼre so dumb and stubborn and you donʼt even stop for a second to think about the consequences of your actions. You donʼt even care what would happen if you actually died, do you?”

Thereʼs something in Eddieʼs voice, something hard to catch and name that stops Buck from responding immediately. His words are ringing in his ears because they are annoyingly true. He didnʼt think about the consequences of his eventual death. He literally just stormed inside the building to find a man despite Bobbyʼs direct order to not go there because it was already too dangerous. He did it anyway, he managed to save a life but he didnʼt manage to get out in time and the whole building just collapsed. He doesnʼt remember much but he certainly remembers being held out by Eddie and his donʼt you dare die here, you dumbass. 

It mustʼve been scary, he admits, and he thinks he understands how Eddie mustʼve felt because he also saw his best friend almost dying. But the anger? He still doesnʼt get it.

“Iʼve had a few close calls during the years. Why is it so different now?” He finally asks.

“Because Iʼm in love with you, you asshole!” Eddie cries out. “And you just keep dying on me and I canʼt take it anymore!”

Buckʼs brain short-circuits. He mustʼve died after all, right? There is no real possibility Eddie just told heʼs in love with him. Thereʼs no possibility he may actually reciprocate his feelings. Thereʼs no way itʼs not just his hallucination or some kind of weird dream in his afterlife. But he desperately wants to be the truth, desperately needs validation for his thoughts. So he does the first thing that comes to his mind: he grabs Eddie by the collar of his Henley and crashes their lips together. His friend is definitely surprised, even shocked and for a moment, he does nothing. Buck already starts to panic because he thinks it’s real and he might’ve misheard everything or even projected it and just destroyed their friendship. But then, Eddie suddenly changes position and pushes Buck until he leans against the counter. And when he kisses him, all thoughts and doubts are completely gone from Buckʼs mind. The only things that matter are Eddieʼs lips on his, Eddieʼs hands on his body, Eddie utterly focused on him and that desperate need to fulfil their desire. Buck mightʼve kissed a lot of people in his life; he has had both awkward and amazing kisses but they cannot compete to make out with his best friend. It feels entirely different, maybe because Eddie loves him back. They break apart only for a couple of seconds to take a breath; Buck sits on the counter and brings Eddie closer by the belt. He canʼt take his eyes off him; Eddie looks wonderful with already swollen lips, flushed cheeks and a spark in his eyes. He probably looks no better but he doesnʼt even care.

“I know youʼve probably already noticed but I love you too, asshole.” He says in a teasing voice, inches away from Eddieʼs lips.

“Well, I mightʼve suspected it when you kissed me but itʼs nice to actually hear it. But donʼt even think that you say you love me, bat your eyelashes and kiss me this way and I wonʼt be angry at you.” Eddie warns half-seriously.

“I can try.” Buck just smirks and kisses him again. This time, he also quickly unbuckles the belt Eddieʼs wearing and starts to lift his shirt. His friend doesnʼt even protest, he lets him do whatever he wants and thatʼs why his Henley ends up somewhere on the floor. Then, the blonde moves from his lips to his neck and slowly makes his way down, planting kisses on his chest. Itʼs crazy how quickly their anger turned into lust. Now, the tension between them is much better, more exciting, easy to resolve. 

Eddie lets out a loud moan when Buck—this sneaky bastard—grabs his ass and squeezes it.

“Youʼre a menace.” He hisses.

“Oh, you should wait with the sweet talk after Iʼm done with you, Diaz.” Buck grins and he doesnʼt stop with the teasing. He unzips Eddieʼs jeans painfully slowly and Eddie almost whines to hurry up. The younger man notices it and winks at him before he adds. “Although Iʼm not sure if youʼll be able to talk at all.” 

“So maybe quit talking, Evan, and show me your skills?” 

“As you wish, Edmundo.”

[izzyfandoms]

Everyone/deceit where the others are trying to get Janus to blush by flirting As a challenge? Ficlet?

(This ended up a full oneshot length lol, so this is no longer a ficlet, hope you enjoy!)

Flustered Snake

SHIPS: Dukeceit, Loceit, Moceit, Roceit, Anxceit, Thomceit (Everyone x Janus)

WARNINGS: Remus makes some sexual comments/implications

GENERAL TAGLIST: @quillfics42 @aj-draws @phantomofthesanderssides @phlying-squirrel @sly-is-my-name-loving-is-my-game @because-were-fam-ily @imtryingthisout @a-creepycookie @emo-disaster @littlestr @spooky-scary-virgil @fuyel @mimsidoodles @soupgremlin @aroaceagenderfluid @birdsbookshiddeninrealbirdsskin @quirkalurk @gingers-trashy-stuff @iinyxtello @justaqueercactus @melodiread @mrbubbajones @glassferns @pun-master-logan @gayturtlez

Masterpost

The moment that Janus stepped into the living area of the mindscape, a pair of hands behind him landed on his hips. He froze in place, immediately feeling the heat of a blush crawl up his neck, across his face and to the tips of his ears. He was sure that his skin was now an obvious, bright red.

The voice that belonged to the pair of hands cackled at that, and a chin came to rest on Janus's head, revealing it to be Remus behind him.

(Unfortunately, the twins were much taller than Janus, and they both loved to take advantage of it: especially when it flustered the deceitful side, as it often did. He both despised and adored that fact, not that he'd ever admit to the latter out loud.)

That made Janus relax slightly - he recognised the voice, so it wasn't somehow a stranger with their hands on his hips - though his creeping blush only worsened.

"You seem flustered, snake," he said, and Janus could practically hear the grin in his voice. "What's up?"

"Shut up," Janus hissed, crossing his arms.

He didn't move out of Remus's grip, though, and instead leant back against the other side's chest. Remus then gently squeezed his hips, and Janus almost regretted staying in place.

"Comfy?"

"We are standing in the living room."

Remus chuckled - the sound low and just beside Janus's ear, rumbling through his whole body.

"We could always move to somewhere comfier," Remus grinned. "Like my bed."

Janus huffed and rolled his eyes. "In your dreams."

"All my dreams. Day and night. Wanna recreate them?"

"Never."

"You know, I'm talking 'bout fu-"

"I know what you're talking about," Janus hissed, feeling his face somehow redden even further. "And no."

Janus could practically hear Remus's pout.

"Aw, but-"

"No! Shut up!"

"Make me?" Remus offered.

Janus groaned, and buried his face in his hands.

***

It had taken quite a few minutes, but Janus had finally managed to distract Remus with food - disgusting and rotten, inedible food - and gotten away.

(If he'd really wanted Remus to stop flirting with him, and had just made the simple request, Remus would have done so with little hesitation. But Janus's obvious blush and moments of almost returned flirtations had only spurred the other side on.)

(Janus could flirt. In the past he had smoothly and calmly flirted with the other sides on numerous occasions, but the moment they flirted back, he was done for. They had only now begun to take advantage of this, and Janus couldn't for the life of him figure out why.)

He was halfway across the mindscape's long hallway - halfway to his bedroom, where he could wallow in his flustered state in peace - when he was stopped in his tracks by Logan's voice behind him.

"Janus, are you busy?"

Janus suppressed a sigh.

"Obviously," he clearly lied, starting to turn around. "What do you nee-"

The last word was cut off by a strangled noise (accompanied with widening eyes and a sharp intake of breath) as his eyes landed on the very shirtless Logan standing in front of him. He was... more in shape that Janus had expected, but perhaps that shouldn't have been a surprise given his obsession with being as healthy as possible.

Janus tried very hard not to check him out, but was unable to keep his eyes from drifting down, and then back up, and then back down again. He sucked in a breath as he felt his ears warm.

Logan straightened up, his expression turning quite pleased. Before Janus could question him further, he pulled a notebook and pen out of thin air - summoning them effortlessly - and began to scribble on one of the pages, about halfway through.

Janus watched him, thoroughly confused and still - somewhat reluctantly - checking Logan out. Then, when Logan closed the notebook and it disappeared again, the logical side smiled at him: genuine and warm, such an uncommon sight.

It made Janus's face warm and his heart tremble, which was far more telling than the reaction to shirtless Logan.

"Thank you, Janus," Logan said. "That was all I needed."

Then, he sank out, and Janus was left alone, confused, and still - unfortunately - quite flustered.

***

After that, he spent a significant amount of time in his room, wallowing in his hopeless, hopeless pining.

(Remus was only joking. The interaction with Logan was only part of some experiment. Surely those were the real explanations for the two frankly baffling experiences from today, right?)

When he finally decided to leave the room, it was only because he was hungry. Remus's onslaught of sexual flirting had distracted him from breakfast, so he was rather eager to get something to eat.

Luckily, when he arrived in the kitchen, Remus wasn't there.

But Patton was, and the delighted smile on his face when Janus entered the room was just as disastrous to his heartrate as Remus had been.

"Jan!" He beamed, dropping the spoon and bowl he'd been washing up and walking over, taking both of Janus's hands in his own. "I'm so glad you're here!"

It was then that Janus realised he'd forgotten his gloves.

The warmth of Patton's hands against his skin and scales was enough to make him feel equally warm and fuzzy inside. He was suddenly hit with the desire to make that warmth spread to every part of his body, and in that moment, he really, really wanted to kiss Patton.

"What- what do you need, Patton?" He asked slowly.

Patton squeezed his hands. "I just made cookies! And I need someone to test them for me. Would you mind?"

"Oh, uh... alright."

Patton beamed.

Then, he dropped Janus's hands, and the deceitful side would never admit to the disappointment that rose in his chest at the loss of warmth. He watched as Patton plucked a cookie from the plate - carefully selecting what he deemed the best one, before turning back around and bringing it back to Janus.

Janus reached out, ready to take the cookie from his hand, but Patton shook his head, holding up the cookie to Janus's lips.

Janus blinked, dropping his hand and then slowly opening his mouth obediently, taking a small bite of the cookie. It was good, as always - warm and chewy and his absolute favourite flavour.

Patton giggled. "You like them?" At Janus's silent nod, he continued. "Oh, wonderful! I'm so glad!"

Janus swallowed, and opened his mouth to respond, but the words died in his throat when Patton leant forward and brushed his thumb over Janus's lip. His brain short-circuited for a few seconds as his face went hot, but then he realised that Patton had probably just been brushing a crumb from his mouth, and that it wasn't something he should've been worried about.

Patton's smile turned slightly mischievous, and he giggled again.

"Everything alright, Janus?"

***

Janus had returned to his room shortly after that little encounter. He'd mumbled excuses that Patton had seemed to believe - though the disappointment on his face when Janus left had been unmistakable.

He fell back onto his bed, dropping his head onto his pillow and burying his face into his hands.

What was going on today? Remus and Logan and Patton were all acting strange, and Janus couldn't get them out of his head.

Or maybe Janus was the strange one.

He was the one with the huge, perception-altering crushes on all of his friends - Thomas included.

Janus huffed, dropping his arms to his sides and staring up at the ceiling. There were little plastic stars - made by Roman many years ago - stuck all over it, that glowed in the dark when it was night.

Janus hadn't been afraid of the dark since they were all small, but he still kept the stars there out of habit.

(And out of love for Roman, though that part he would never admit aloud.)

There was a loud knock on the door, and Janus jumped, sitting up suddenly and staring at it, wide-eyed. He froze for a moment, before he grabbed his gloves off his bedside table and quickly pulled them back on. He put his hat on, too.

He got up, and walked over to the door.

When he opened it, he immediately came face-to-face with Roman, whose whole face lit up when his eyes landed on Janus.

(And, oh, that really did something to Janus, didn't it? He felt all warm and fuzzy inside - the way Roman was looking at him making him feel like he was floating.)

He felt his face warm, and the greeting he'd meant to say died in his throat as the blush formed.

Roman laughed suddenly: loud and cheerful and delighted, and it made Janus jump. His heart skipped a beat in his chest and he felt simultaneously confused and happy, as Roman's laugh was contageous.

"Well, that was easy!" Roman beamed.

"I- uh- what?"

But before Janus could question Roman properly, Roman reached forward and grabbed Janus's face in both hands. He then pressed a kiss to the centre of Janus's forward.

Janus let out a strangled noise as Roman let go of him and took a step back.

"Thank you, Jan," he said earnestly.

Then, he sunk out, leaving Janus incredibly confused, and even more flustered, ready to melt into a puddle on the floor.

***

It took a few hours for Janus to gain the courage to leave his room again after that.

But, when he did, he found the living room of the mindscape suddenly quite cold. He stood in the centre of the room, rubbing his arms and shivering, as the yellow button-up shirt he had on was far too thin, and he regretted choosing that over his usual outfit that morning.

"Okay," he huffed. "Whose idea was this?"

"I know, right?" Suddenly came a voice from behind him. "It's freezing."

Janus glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes landing on Virgil, who was stood a few feet behind him.

"You cold?" Virgil continued.

"No," Janus lied flatly.

Virgil snorted. "Right."

Then, he did something that Janus couldn't have predicted. He took off his hoodie.

This was peculiar for two reasons - one, that the mindscape was cold, and two, that Virgil almost never took off his hoodie, and never without a good reason.

Janus blinked at him, so surprised that he stopped rubbing his goosebump-covered arms. Then, his eyes widened further as Virgil held the hoodie out to him.

"What are you doing?"

Virgil rolled his eyes, though fondly and with a half-smirk.

"Giving you my jacket," he answered.

"But- what? Why?"

"I heard snakes are cold-blooded."

Janus huffed, attempting to glare at Virgil but failing miserably. Virgil seemed amused at his attempts, which made it even harder to glare at him, because Janus wanted to kiss that smirk right off his face.

"I don't need your jacket," Janus lied.

(He would very much appreciate Virgil's jacket, for many reasons, but he obviously could never admit that aloud.)

Virgil snorted. But, instead of responding to that, he walked up to Janus and draped his hoodie over the other sides' shoulders. Janus froze, especially as Virgil's touch lingered longer than it could have, and Janus could suddenly feel himself warm.

His cheeks went hot, likely turning red.

Virgil caught Janus's eye, and the slight smirk returned for just a moment.

"Hope you warm up," he said, before turning and walking out of the room, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, leaving Janus warm, alone and very confused.

***

Janus's confusion had only grown when Thomas suddenly summoned him for no good reason.

Usually, he summoned his sides for videos, and the rest of the time they showed up on their own. He liked to spend time with them, sure, but usually either with all of them, or when the sides showed up first.

Janus appeared in the sitting room.

"Thomas," he said. "What do you need?"

Thomas was sat on the couch, leaning back against the cushions, and his face lit up when he saw Janus, which made Janus feel all kinds of things, and made him almost wish he was the side in charge of Thomas's feelings, so he could know exactly what he was feeling.

(The sides may have all been able to see through Thomas's eyes and hear through ears, but none of them had access to everything that went on inside his head. They each had their own different parts. Virgil knew his anxieties, Patton knew his feelings, Janus knew his lies and the secrets and desires he hid from even himself. None knew everything, even when they might want to.)

"Oh, Janus!" Thomas smiled. "You're here!" He patted the couch beside him, indicating that Janus should sit. "Come on, hang out with me."

Janus blinked, sitting down immediately but with a confused expression.

"Do you... need something?"

"Do I need to? Can't I just summon you to hang out?"

"I mean, no, but-" Janus cut himself off with a strangled noise when Thomas reached forward and plucked his hat right off his head.

Then, Thomas placed the hat on his own head with a grin.

"How do I look?"

Janus opened and closed his mouth a few times, stumbling over his words. It took him a moment to pull together a coherent thought that wasn't just the word 'cute' repeated twelve times.

"Uh, um... you look... good?"

Thomas laughed. "Oh, Jan, you flatter me," he joked. Then, he looked Janus over slowly - making him feel all kinds of things - before his gaze settled on Janus's hair. He reached across, running his fingers through it and sticking his tongue out in concentration. "Your hat must mess your hair up a lot, you wear it so much."

"It's- uh, it's messy, usually," Janus choked out. "That's why I wear the hat."

Thomas pulled his hand back, placing it in his lap, and Janus only just managed to keep himself from making a disappointed noise.

"Aww, I don't know, I like it," Thomas said, seemingly oblivious to Janus's plight. "It's a lot curlier than mine, kinda like Patton's but much darker: almost black." Thomas smiled. "I think it's cute."

Janus blinked at him, feeling his face turn hot and red for what felt like the millionth time that day. He buried his face in his hands and groaned.

“Why are you guys like this?” He mumbled into his palms.

“Huh?” Thomas half-laughed, sounding partly amused and partly confused.

“You’re just- aah!” Janus almost screamed with frustration. “Making me feel... so much!”

“So much what?”

Janus paused at that. He... recognised that tone. It was a tone of faux-innocence, one he’d heard - and, in the past, actively prompted - from Thomas multiple times.

He knew something.

Janus pulled his hands away from his face, shooting Thomas an accusatory look that made him hold up his hands in defence.

“You know something,” Janus accused, with a still-red face, but significantly more confidence than before. “What is it?”

“Uh...” Thomas trailed off, hesitating, but at Janus’s expression, he finally gave in and smiled sheepishly at him. “I may know of a... competition, of sorts.”

“Competition?”

“Between the other sides. And, uh... me, too, I guess. We wanted to see who could make you blush the most.” For a moment, Thomas paused. “‘Cos you’re cute.”

Janus’s brain broke.

He stared blankly at Thomas for a few seconds, before understanding finally hit him like a train, and the blush that had just faded returned again, full-force. He felt hot and flustered and still a little confused, but mostly just startled.

“Oh,” he squeaked.

Thomas let out an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his head with his hand and glancing away.

“Sorry, if that’s kinda weird,” he apologised quickly. “We didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, we just really li- you know what, it doesn’t matter. I’m sorry.”

Janus buried his face in his hands with another loud groan. He mumbled something that Thomas couldn’t quite make out. Thomas leant forward, trying to listen better.

“Sorry, what was that?” Thomas asked.

Janus repeated himself, slightly louder.

“It worked,” he grumbled.

Thomas laughed, short and slightly startled. “Yeah, we, uh... we figured. You’re kinda obvious when you’re flustered. And cute.”

Janus groaned into his palms again, even louder this time.

“I mean,” Thomas continued. “You know they can all see you right now, too, right?”

There was a beat.

“Oh, god.”

[han-shinsuke]

Lately, I noticed some changes in Nishinoya's behaviour towards my brother's friends. He seemed to discern whatsoever I can't figure out myself by just looking at them. Those kids, well, they weren't kids anymore to begin with, are like siblings to me. Basically watched them grow and had good times with them.

"What?!" as long as I can, I will keep my cool even though the mist on the corner of my eyes are already on the edge, "undress." Yuu repeated, forcing me to back away againsts the cold wall of the bathroom. He came unannounced in the training hub and dragged me back home. Luckily, my parents and brother are not around, so there would be no witness. My man had broken his own phone by smashing it in the garage.

"Your room fucking smell like them especially that San Catalina dude! He has his scent all over you." To my dismay, Noya spat and slammed his built against my small ones. Constantly squeezing my body with his fury.

Jealousy has taken over. He was blinded by it and I couldn't do anything to calm him unless, I wear the dress he bought and completely obliged to everything he would have to say.

"I told you, Yuu! They used my room for their final defense and there's nothing amiss with giving them congratulatory hugs!" I pushed him with my hands and he responded by blasting the shower on, drowning our bodies with heavy splashes. "don't make me tell you twice, Rei. You wouldn't like it." He wrecked my clothes from the outer down to the inner pieces, murmuring words meant for hell.

"Fuck. Fuck. You stinks of his scent. I swear I will fucking cut his throat for leaving his stench on my property!" I chose not to speak or drop a comeback or we will both burn each other with our fire. Nishinoya operated me like a doll and washed me thoroughly until the scent that pissed him go away.

"You fucking wear the lilac dress, Rei. I want your legs spread for me when I join you on the bed." I was pushed out of the shower and I just sighed. He's taking a bath and I need to prep myself for him. I blower dry my hair, put on his favorite perfume and wear the damn thin dress that would make his rage diminish.

I sat on my bed and sighed again. The last time I had sex with him was almost a month ago. I remembered joking him to find someone he could get laid on but he bantered expertly and had me sobbing due to his rough movements at his apartment. Damn. Yuu is devilishly good in bed.

"Hmm... pretty," Yuu commented as he walks towards my spot. He was wearing a greyish robe when he situated beside me. "I want you to ride a goddamn pillow for me, Rei. You can do it. I know you can." 

Never imagined Yuu has this kind of fantasy in him. I have been a good girl for him and I have always do whatever he pleases to quench his thirst for sex. There were times when he urged me to watch an adult film with him and then, at the middle of it, he would attack and destroy me really bad. Nishinoya Yuu is an agressive one.

"Y-Yuu... I-I can't." And I'm really scared and it's kinda embarrassing to have a man watch me hump a pillow. 

"Ssshh..." He shushed me with his lips and bit and tugged my red ones between his teeth, "obey me, babe or I will find San Catalina and kill him for real."

The terror and bloodlust portrayed on his face are telling me that I should follow and calamity would be avoided. To be the cause of someone's death was never in my wishlist. Fidgeting, I climbed on the bed and kneel in the middle. Noya, handed me a pillow and sat on the foot of the bed, smirking.

“Part your knees, Rei.” The room temperature increased and so my heartbeats. The pillow was shoved between my thighs and it’s not only my knees that gone separated. My mouth honed an ‘O’ when my cunt came in contact with the edge of the pillow that surprisingly has vibrator inside, “alexa, full speed.” Nishinoya smirked as I trembled. A smart sex toy!

“Aah, gosh!” my hands couldn’t find where to hold or who to hold and that made me, even though it is embarrassing, I ended up gripping my left thigh and right bosom as I rode with the toy’s rhythm, “gosh~ so fast, Yuu aah!” Lust. That’s what he can see in my eyes. Lust and thirst and excitement. Sex is scary. It could turn someone into a complete different person when fed with pleasures and desires.

My eyes were closed but my hands were hard and tight. I gripped the soft flesh and gave little attention to the small pear on the centre, “you are so fucking hot, babe~” I opened my eyes and met his beaming orbs. Nishinoya pointed a finger on the wall and I couldn’t agree more. There’s a full length mirror appended on it. I saw and watched myself in delight. I looked hot while bouncing my cunt and ass against the vibrating pillow and to make the fire go wild, I let go of my breast and let it bounce with the waves that my body is creating.

I was closed but the toy suddenly put on a halt. I sighed and pouted my lips. He removed the pillow between my thighs and thrown it somewhere in my room. Nishinoya discased himself and set down on the bed. His erection was as proud as him. It really looks hard and fat and I couldn’t help but wish to ride it as soon as possible. But the man had other plans in mind. He asked me to sit on his face and I did, “ooohhh~ hold on, Yuu aaahh~ don’t lick me so quick shit.” It was just his tongue that poked my clit but I’m already quivering and humping my core against his warm mouth.

“Cum in my mouth, babe and let me do the work in juicing you dry,” the time he have given wasn’t that enough to grasp the situation fully. He inserted his long tongue into my cunt and swirled and flicked the sensitive muscles that lies in there, stroking the part that had me desperately gasping for air as I squirt in his mouth and filled it with my orgasm. Knowing him, it will take exactly twenty minutes to put Yuu on his high but when it was me, that won’t take long because I don’t have control over it.

“Shit, Yuu~ it feels good~” down on the land, I still hump my cunt against his mouth and he didn’t mind. Instead, he wet my folds and everything in it with his saliva. Licked my labia and sucked the clitoral hood to help me pick up on the another level of heat we were bound to cross.

Nishinoya moaned between his dirty motions and I interpreted it as a ‘go’ to hump and bounce further. Reaching for his hot palms, I put those on my bouncing breast and he grabbed them with needs as he ate and slurped my essence in silence.

The times I moaned and gasped his name couldn’t be measured through counting numerically. It doesn’t matter at this hour and at this fiery moment. He had a grin on his lips when he stopped. I stood on my feet and offered him a hand. Nishinoya eyed me proudly as he watches the juice drips down my thighs down to my ankles. I received a spank from him and I yelped from the sharp pain.

“Spread your legs for me, good girl,” I was put atop of my working desk and he rolled the hem of the lilac dress above my chest and squeezed my other sensitivity with force. I bit the inside of my tongue and wailed in my mind.

“Aahhh goshh~ what the fuck, Yuu!” he spat thrice on my folds and drenched my entrance with it and I have to admit that for a second, I thought it would be a help me accommodate his size but I was wrong. He grown an inch and probably, it gotten fat also or it’s just me loosing the familiarity of his possession. My head bent backwards and the veins on my neck became visible when he goes all the way down to my cervix, bruising it with his thick and hard cap, “Yuuu hhnnggg~” I sobbed at first and then cried afterwards while struggling to push him through his toned abdomen.

But he grabbed my both hands and pinned them above my head while his other hand gripped my neck.

“Yuu... pleaseee aahnnggg~” I was tight and he’s huge and he’s half-choking, half-caressing my neck as he pulls slowly but push harder and deeper.

He seemed to lack of sympathy so he just chuckled over the pain I was feeling by having his length inside me.

“Please, drill deeper and faster? You don’t have to ask, babe~ I always go deeper and faster and harder to make a point and instill the fact that you’re fucking mine alone.” Another hard thrust entered my core and I let out a long wail of pleasure and pain. My legs were trembling really hard with each rough drill and Yuu just laughed it over. Resuming his merciless waves against my hips and there, I realised, I had no choice but to moan, cry and gasp his name. With those, he would reach his peak and I will get a break.

The shaking and moaning didn’t stop even after he reached his orgasm. He unloads his semen and injects his head deeper against my cervix. The first round ended with me crying and shaking and pushing him off.

“Yu–Yuu, pl–please pull out...” and he didn’t. He goes vastly in depth of the place he loves to ruin, “no way.” He says, smirking.

[ohthatsviolet]

Liar, Liar - Cryptane

(1,721 words. Ao3 link will be in the RBs as usual). 

Octavio knew him as Hyeon Kim, and he was fine with that...until he wasn’t. 

He wasn't expecting to get attached. He wasn't attached. Not really. It was just a way to pass the time. Octane liked to talk a lot, and Tae Joon tended to like that in people, because it meant he didn't have to. He introduced himself as Octavio Silva, but he was positive that he "would have already known that," because he "was probably the most famous person here." The hacker did already know who he was, but not for the reasons Octavio thought. It wasn't difficult to do a little snooping on the Legends, to see who might be the best asset to him if he was forced to align himself with some of them, to keep up the facade that he was just a regular competitor like the rest of them. Octavio made it almost too easy, seeming to enjoy posting most of his life on social media. 

"You shouldn't post so many personal details about yourself online," Tae Joon had told him, only to receive an obnoxious snort in response. 

The speedster's attention was focused on the Rubik's cube in his hands, while he lay back in his beanbag chair. 

"Whatever, amigo. No one has tried to kidnap me yet." 

Conversation with Octavio seemed to always come easily. He liked to talk about himself. 

"Do you like puzzles?" he asked, listening to the quiet clicking of the plastic as the runner rotated it in his hands, failing to get the coloured squares into a desirable pattern. 

The younger legend signed somewhat dramatically, and tossed the cube over his shoulder, hitting it against the wall with a dull thud. 

"No. I fucking hate them." 

The corner of Tae Joon's lip curled into a small smile, at the remark. It seemed to happen a lot around Octavio. It was difficult to not find him amusing. 

He wasn't expecting for them to continue spending time together like this. The only reason they'd gotten talking in the first place was because Octavio was having issues with his computer and the hacker had simply gotten tired of listening to him complain about it, so he decided to help him out. The speedster's desk was a mess; covered in candy wrappers, empty energy drink cans and crumbs. It was pretty gross if he was honest, but as his eyes traveled over the small piles of trash he spotted a figurine of a character he instantly recognised from one of his childhood favourite video games. He couldn't resist the urge to reach out and touch it. It wasn't possible that Octavio was a fan of this franchise. It would be far too obscure for someone like him. Right? 

"Careful, compadre," the runner warned, glancing up from his phone. "That's signed by the developers. You break that, I break you." 

Tae Joon turned the statue over in his hands, checking the underside of the base. A cocktail of childlike excitement and jealousy pooled in his stomach. He wasn't lying, it was definitely signed. Holy shit. 

"You're a fan?" the hacker asked, feigning nonchalance. 

"Yeah, dude. That's like...only the best RPG I've ever played." 

"My sister used to make fun of me for liking it," Tae Joon continued, with a small laugh. "She used to say it was only for 'mega nerds'."

"I could never keep up with all the lore," Octavio admitted, shoving his phone into his pocket, fully engaged in the conversation now. "But I heard there was a really cool story part that was only available in the co-op mode. I never got to play it myself, so I had to watch videos on it." 

"Really?! I...never knew that. Now I wish I convinced her to play it." 

The space between them fell silent, but Tae Joon noticed the way Octavio looked him up and down as if he was doing some sort of appraisal. He shouldn't have mentioned his family. That look made him feel paranoid, and that maybe he should consider leaving soon, until the runner spoke up. 

"I...probably still have my copy lying around somewhere," he began, fidgeting with a loose thread on his shorts. "If you wanna try it sometime. None of my friends liked it either." 

Despite his better judgement telling him not to, he agreed to play through the co-op campaign with him, and it ended up being more pleasant than he thought it would be. Octavio was actually pretty good at the game, and seemed to appreciate him pausing at certain points to explain the plot points he found confusing. They would meet up most nights to play, and these hangouts continued even after they'd completed the game a few times on different difficulties. It turned out Octavio had lied about his friends not liking the game, and the truth was he barely had any friends growing up; something he'd confided in him after their first few sessions. It was something Tae Joon could relate to, especially around here. He wouldn't consider any of the Legends his friends. Except Octavio of course. Were they...friends? Octavio had begun to confide in him, but due to the position he was in, he couldn't really do the same. The speedster told him short stories from his childhood and teenage years which, if Tae Joon was honest, sounded very sad and lonely. Part of him wanted to share similar stories to perhaps comfort the speedster a bit, but as soon as he opened his mouth to begin, he stopped. It was too dangerous to share too much, especially with someone who shared so much of themselves with the entire Outlands. He felt conflicted, though he knew he shouldn't. 

"Hyeon, man! Come on!" 

The call of that name snapped him from his thoughts, and he realised he was still lingering near the entrance to Octavio's room. Sometimes he still managed to forget this was his name now, or at least what some of the people around here knew him as. He didn't mind normally, but hearing that name come from Octavio's mouth made something in his chest shift uncomfortably. Tae Joon tried to shake it off, quickly finding his way to the small sofa that the runner was already making himself comfortable on. 

"Did you finally manage to pick a movie?" 

"Yup!" Octavio replied, taking the opportunity to remove his prosthetics, allowing them to collapse to the floor with a clatter. 

Tae Joon looked him up and down, observing how he rubbed his hands up and down his thighs. 

"Pain?" 

The speedster seemed to think about his answer before responding. 

"Nah. It's not too bad today." 

"Good." 

"Thanks for...not telling Ajay about it," Octavio continued, turning to face him more directly. "She'd just...overreact. And it's not a big deal."

The hacker merely nodded casually in response, but as Octavio began to play the movie, he couldn't quite focus on the plot. He was suddenly overwhelmed by an intense feeling of guilt. How could he continue living like this? They'd been spending time together for a while now, and Octavio knew almost nothing about him; anything he did know was a fake or vague answer he'd given him to get him off his back. He wanted to tell him things. He wanted to tell Octavio how he grew up, his favourite food, and take him to his favourite hangout spots before his life got turned upside down. He wanted to tell him how he couldn't sleep at night, how he missed his family dearly and how he always wanted a pet cat. He wanted to tell him that the time he spent with him was the only time he'd felt the slightest bit happy or normal in years. Fuck, he just wanted to tell him his real name. But he couldn't. He couldn't risk everything he'd worked for. He couldn't risk losing whatever this relationship with Octavio was becoming. 

Why was he thinking so much about all this? He kept trying to tell himself, the moments he spent with Octavio was just a way to pass the time. He kept trying to tell himself that he didn't care about him. But he did. And it hurt. Tae Joon stared at his bedroom ceiling that night, thinking back on the evening they shared. Octavio made things feel easy, even if it was just for a few hours. Would everything become easier if he just told him the truth? He shut his eyes tightly, trying to force the intrusive thoughts from his mind. He felt like he was going crazy. How could he ever consider telling Octavio who he really was and what he was really trying to achieve by being in the games? He remembers watching the footage of the Repulsor tower collapsing and how Octane had almost been crushed to death in the chaos. It didn't matter much to him back then; one less Legend was one less person to stand in his way. He felt sick to his stomach, thinking back on it now. How could he ever have felt that way about Octane - about Octavio? He wasn't disposable, though part of the hacker was beginning to wish he was, because it would make it easier to get him out of his head. How was it becoming possible, that he cared more about being rejected by him, than he did about being exposed, if he came clean? He could be thrown in jail, framed for more crimes he didn't commit, or worse. And somehow that didn't compare to the possibility of never seeing Octavio's scarred lips smile again, or the apples his freckled cheeks when he laughed. Tae Joon hated feeling this way, he was usually so focused but now his attention was being directed elsewhere. He wanted to hate Octavio for this, but he couldn't help but smile, his stomach fluttering, when he received a text from the runner, sending him a screenshot of a movie synopsis asking him if he'd be interested in watching that one next. Tae Joon fell back against his pillow, with a sigh, rubbing his tired eyes with the balls of his hands. He could keep lying if it meant they could spend time together. 

It didn't matter who he was; Tae Joon Park, Hyeon Kim or Crypto. When it came to Octavio Silva, all three of them were thoroughly, thoroughly fucked. 

[peepingtoad]

|| @dokuhebi | cont. {x} ||

These were strange times indeed to find oneself relaxing in what was essentially an intimate holiday retreat, but Jiraiya had never been one to pass up any chance to bask, even temporarily, in the calm between storms. 

For some time now they had been on the move, running from assumed pursuers, often roughing it, and constantly having to pack up and move again as soon as possible. After all, there was only so long that even the most skilled shinobi on the run could go undetected, especially in a group of three, and with so few basic supplies there was little choice but to stop at the occasional inn. Even with constantly changing disguises and cleverly placed diversions, chakra could be sensed. Townsfolk would gossip. Innkeepers would be bought. The constant atmosphere of tension and worry between them made this one of the less fun voyages he’d ever experienced, but the stretch of their journey before they reached this promised land had been of a particular strain on the collective patience of the group, helped in no way by the snippy comments of Kabuto, Orochimaru's right hand man.

At the very least, and to Jiraiya's absolute delight, Kabuto seemed happy enough to hole himself up in his own quarters immediately upon arrival here. The sage wasn't sure how much, if anything, the young man had come to know about the situation between the two Sannin, for he left it entirely up to Orochimaru to either clear things up in their own time, or not. It wasn’t up to Jiraiya to demand their status (vague thing that that was) to be made known, and it hardly mattered a great deal to him anyway. Sure, it made keeping his more amorous tendencies in check a challenge at times, but it also meant that moments like these were all the more wonderful for it.

The absolute ambience of this place, the ease he felt being beside Orochimaru, and their ease in cuddling up to him, made his question a very earnest and comfortable thing—no hint of guilting or judgement to be seen, to which they thankfully seemed to respond well. It wasn’t with any certainty that Jiraiya could claim an expected answer, and yet as he listens to them speak he finds himself surprised not on the basis of the answer itself, but on their frankness even when confronted with the contradictory nature of it.

"A serendipity! Never thought I’d hear the day you sell your own cunning short!" He laughs, much too warmly given the fraught memories they were discussing, a betrayal so recent that it really should instill him with more caution than this. But in the face of his deepest desires, Jiraiya was ever one to lose sight of such a thing. He tilts his head to accept the small kiss with a very satisfied, almost childishly smug expression, and scoffs lightly at their taunting. "Now, don't you go getting all presumptuous on me. I think I'd choose the word ‘exasperated’ over 'upset’ in this case. But whatever you think my feelings are, there was in fact a great deal of romance to it... in your own very special, often infuriating way.”

He was going to leave it at that. The allure of all the flesh Orochimaru has on show is strong, and having those legs draped over his lap proves irresistible to his tactile nature as he runs a palm over the top of one calf, then allows it to glide down the side of their thigh, thinking nothing of slipping beneath fabric for a more intimate feel. Even so, this all has him thinking in such a way that he can’t feign a solely lusty mood. The time spent as a captive was so fraught with tension and mistrust that he could never have faced thinking too deeply about it, and ever since their escape they were afforded so little privacy or time to consider anything but the next destination. There’s so much he wishes to say, and it makes him nervous. It reflects in his touch as he slowly, absently runs his hand up and down the length of their leg, and in the sigh that seems to deflate him despite the smile he wears.

“You know... fool that I am, I can’t resist putting all my trust in your hands. You know it, I know it." Where his free hand had initially rested before finding a distraction, covered only by the light fabric of his yukata, was a scar. It’s only by grace of the subject at hand and the fact he’d obliviously been touching it moments earlier that he now remembers this particular scar, one of two tokens of the first truly violent altercation they’d ever had—the other sitting higher on his chest. That night had cemented in place the very first death of something between them, a death that felt like some crucial part of him had been ripped out. Even now it was difficult to identify what exactly that something was, but it’s clear as day that on his part at the very least, it wasn’t his trust in the other. His fingers clench subtly into the pale skin beneath their tips, and he lifts his gaze from the spot with a soft smile, the lantern’s light now picking out his profile in warm orange. "I noticed that even though you do betray my trust, I’m always awake the next day to realise it. I wondered if it truly was because I meant so little to you by that point, but even while despairing part of me still believed it was because you couldn’t bring yourself to do worse. I carried that like a candle in the dark. It hurt regardless, of course. Boy, did it hurt and yet..."

They must know exactly what he’s talking about by now. It isn’t something he’d intended to bring up on this beautiful evening, but now that he’s found himself on a tangent he suspects Orochimaru will remain quiet until he’s finished, digest his words thoroughly before making any input of their own. And so, with his eyes trained on the lantern buzzing under the assault of fluttering moths’ wings, he continues.

"And yet I've never once woken up and thought to myself that next time we’ve got a situation, I won't do it again. Just to show you that I’m still me, and the way I feel hasn’t changed. But now that you mention it, talking about actions proving words... most of the time when I’ve thrown all of myself at your feet it’s been desperation at play. Desperation because I know I’m too late, desperation to prove something I was responsible for messing up to begin with, with a few theatrics thrown in because truthfully, I'm not always this articulate. In the forest though, there was nothing in our past that put us there—well, besides me scouting the general area for signs of you—and so in that moment I saw you injured, I simply reacted, and it was the very same me, only without the preface of a fight. Your reaction to that, I feel as a result, also ended up coming from a different place to other clashes we’ve had. Simply put, you could have made it so I simply woke up alone again. But this time, I think something in you wanted to have a go at being around me, even if it was rationalised as tactical at first. I could be absolutely wrong, I could be seeing what wasn’t there. It’d be stupid to pretend that I understand you fully, after we’ve been separated for so long, and frankly you were always pretty difficult to get. But I'd pick difficult you over easy not-you any day of the week. I know you're a little intense, a little morbid, a little out of the ordinary, and it shows most when you’re feeling too much at once... but that just is you, isn’t it?"

The one I love.

With a soft, purring laugh at the impossibly mushy thought does he finally turn back towards them, interrupting those anxious paths he’d been tracing up and down their thigh to instead ghost up the exposed sliver of chest, then caress an elegant jaw. As the bone tapers, his curled forefinger gently slips to the thinner skinned underside, a teasing persuasion for them to face him more fully. To allow him to truly appreciate every facet of their features, from the alabaster skin that the lantern-light dusts golden, to the gleaming silver earrings at their throat, to the fathomless hues of gem-like irises. It gets him every time without fail, just how ridiculously stunning they truly are—always did, except it’s only now that he can truly be open in his admiration. Or rather, adoration.

A smile creeps rakishly over his face, a little flushed despite how smooth he tells himself he’s being, and at the very moment his leaning and guiding seemed it would end in a kiss, he halts with that velvet dark gaze locked onto theirs.

"Similarly, I’d hope that if anyone was to say how absolutely spellbinding you are tonight, it’d mean more to you coming from the man who's bled for you and chased you to the ends of the earth, than than it would coming from some other bozo." Humming an even huskier laugh than before, he finally closes the distance with a single, lingering kiss on their lips before playfully adding:

“Hypothetically speaking, of course.”

[atalana]

Alright, I’ve just spent 17 hours absorbing the epilogue, and in true Dirk Strider fashion, I have Thoughts.

I had plenty of responses I’ve been considering to this, about two hours ago I was honestly thinking of just dropping in with a fuckin one liner like “So Dirk Three wrote the epilogue” (Dirk Three kinda did write the epilogue, and I’ll explain that too), but we’re on the fucking essay train now and no one’s getting off it any time soon so it’s time to dive into this fucker and get it all off my chest.

Under the cut you will find essays on Dirk, cherubs, ultimate selves, both major Dirk fics (Detective Pony and Theatre of Coolty), a bunch of story bullshit, and my severe love for all Homestuck characters

(But very little criticism of the epilogue, I am no longer about that life)

So the prologue is important here. It’s the main bit of accurate information we have, not tainted by an unreliable narrator. (Well, it is, but less so). The prologue tells us that, with the characters outside of canon, they are becoming their ultimate selves, particularly the characters most susceptible to such knowledge, like seers, or heart players.

Now Homestuck wrestles a lot with the idea of the ultimate self. It is, as defined by the text, the true thing a person is, an amalgamation of every possible version of themselves. It is not a viable human being, because that’s not how human beings work. It basically amounts to Hussie’s character rules, like, there are some ways that these characters will be always, some things they’re prone to, things they like, decisions they’re likely to make, but who the person is within that is subject to extreme change depending on circumstance. The four people who embody this narrative most clearly are Vriska, Terezi, Davepeta, and Dirk.

I’m still not 100% sure on why the ultimate selves outside of canon thing is, but my best guess would be this - within the story, there’s a definite timeline, right? Like, these are the things that are written down, this is what you can see, the word of god (loaded phrase, thanks Dirk), the things that you look at when trying to apply death of the author (even more loaded phrase, thanks Hussie, also thanks Calliope). There’s more than one timeline, sure, but that’s the point, everyone is who they are within that timeline, affected by what happened to make them who they became. Outside of canon is, well, outside of the story. They’re not affected by the story here, they’re just characters. This is a fanfiction site. And what does fanfic do best? It takes the characters, takes who they are, pulls them out of the story, and shoves them in wherever it likes, to become whoever it is they become. And thus who the character is exactly becomes murky and confusing if you’re trying to jam them all into one thing, and it all gives Rose Lalonde a headache. Ultimate selves.

Davepeta liked their ultimate self, it helped two kids who were otherwise struggling with unsatisfying ultimate selves to become a better whole.

Vriska took the proactive approach, by which I mean bullying her other selves into letting her become the ultimate Vriska, which was ultimately useless and gave her no ultimate self at all

Terezi saw her ultimate self, and is still processing what that means for her (but also Terezi is still in canon, so she’s immune to epilogue bullshit)

And Dirk, god, poor Dirk. Dirk was terrified of it. Because he could see his ultimate self and he knew that’s not the kind of person he wanted to become. (And this is where I start using the Theatre of Coolty numbers because there’s no other way to get through this, if you haven’t read/seen it you 100% should, but as a general note, Dirk One is the main Dirk we know, Dirk Two is Brain Ghost Dirk, Dirk Three is “Trickster Dirk” but actually revealed later to be Hussie, Dirk Four is Hal)

Because here’s the thing. Dirk’s ultimate self is him, but it’s also Hal. It’s also BGD. It’s also Bro. And Dirk One was never as bad as he thought he was, but he surrounded himself with copies of himself, so he knew how bad he could be, and tried everything he could to avoid it. We have actual canon confirmation on multiple occasions that Dirk would so much rather kill himself than become the kind of person capable of hurting his friends. Which only got worse after he met Dave and realised Bro existed, like, that just doubled his resolve to Never Be That Person.

(Hey, fun hypothetical, if you kill yourself to stop yourself becoming a bad person because you know it’s inevitable but you’re too good a person to want to go through with it, is it heroic or just? Because I would like to have a lengthy discussion with the god tier clock!)

God, there’s so much I can write on the subject of Dirk’s ultimate self. Because you can see every version of him inside there, there’s Bro in his possessiveness, Hal in his need to fuck with people for no real reason, BGD in his hyper critical nature (beyond what is normal for all Dirks), Dirk One in his desire to never let anyone hurt him again. (God, the “I’ll never let you break my heart again” line hurt so much, because like… I can feel Dirk One in that line, but it’s delivered by ultimate Dirk, and ultimate Dirk isn’t the kind of person who would have even been heartbroken by Jake’s actions. Dirk One poured his soul into that relationship and Jake responded by ignoring him, and like, this isn’t a dig on Jake, because that did make Dirk very intense and hard to deal with, but as Calliope so beautifully put, the children left alone are those who most despair at being ignored. And every version of Dirk was so very alone.)

When sending initial thoughts to my friend, I wrote “Ultidirk is Dirk One but without the compassion or empathy and with an apparently infinite supply of horse tranquilizers”. Which was mostly a joke, but does get down to the core of the problem. Dirk One and Ultidirk aren’t really that different, when it comes down to it. But there’s one crucial element that makes all the difference. Dirk One’s life philosophy is “This is a me problem, so I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you don’t have to deal with that problem, at any cost”. Ultidirk’s life philosophy is “This is a me problem, so I’m going to make it everyone else’s problem. And it turns out that without basic human empathy and morality holding him back, Ultidirk will just… fucking declare himself God, and use that alongside his powers of manipulation to just write a new story in which he is the villain. Very little changes in the scale of things.

(The other main difference is that Dirk One is scared to exist, whereas every other Dirk is scared to not exist, that’s the stuff, good callback, etc etc, that line fucking killed me, and also killed whatever remnant of Dirk One was still lurking inside Ultidirk and god I want to hug him)

(I also want to extract him from Ultidirk and bring him on an Ultidirk murdering quest bc he would be 100% down for that without a second’s hesitation but that’s a bit hard to do)

Now you may be wondering why I brought up Theatre of Coolty if I was only gonna refer to Dirk One as Dirk One and not touch on any of the others. Well, it’s true, saying Dirk Two and Dirk Four when I have simple three letter names for both of them is a bit ridiculous. But then we get to Dirk Three.

Now here’s the thing about Theatre of Coolty. Dirk One appears in Homestuck, as alpha Dirk, in Dirk’s usual shirt with the orange hat. Dirk Two appears in Homestuck, as brain ghost Dirk in god tier pyjamas. Dirk Four appears in Homestuck as Hal, and he wears a red hat because he’s Dirk in a different colour scheme, also because the sprite Hussie eventually made for him based on fanon had a red hat, all’s sorted there.

But Dirk Three? Trickster Dirk? Never appeared in Homestuck. They tried, but it was still Dirk One. Dirk is immune to cherubic influence (remember this point too, it’s important), because his concept of self is so present (and also because he’s depressed as fuck, but that doesn’t necessarily exclude you, it’s just the presence of both at once). And who does Dirk Three turn out to be? Well, they said it from the start, Theatre of Coolty is about the presence or absence of god, who definitely will show up at some point. Dirk Three is Hussie in a Dirk costume, Dirk Three is God, Dirk Three is The Author.

Dirk Three is Ultidirk. Congrats, all four Dirks have officially shown up in Homestuck, to whatever extent this counts as Homestuck, an extent which has been thoroughly documented by its own existence bc this is Homestuck (kinda) and you gotta lean into the bullshit or you’ll drown in it.

So yes, this was penned by Dirk Three. Who is also Lord English in two different metaphorical ways now (The trickster element, and also the fact that the epilogues insist on making Jane a second Condesce, which in this analogy puts Dave as himself and Dirk as, you guessed it, Cherub Master of All. Which is additionally insulting as fuck because Dirk grew up in that apocalypse and would never contribute to recreating it, if Jane ever was inclined to, which she isn’t, but you know).

And LE’s major force of opposition? Adult Calliope. (Also, like, Vriska, but symbolically it’s the other cherub.)

Which brings me to the main point of this essay, and that is that all of this? It’s a cherub fic. And we knew this, from the moment we were offered that choice. Meat or Candy? Well, neither of them are sustainable food sources for humans, not with the meat uncooked like that. They’re not satisfying endings for us either. But it’s all cherubs eat. (Well, that and special stardust, but that was Caliborn’s intermission. This is Calliope’s offering.)

Which again feeds back into the AO3 metaphor because from their introduction, Caliborn and Calliope have been fandom inserts, representing all of us, for better or worse. They read the story, come up with the theories, they write the fanfic.

And Calliope’s trying so hard. But she’s not human. She doesn’t get it, not on a way that connects with the characters, only with the text. Cherubs spend their lifetime alone. Cherubs only have black romance. Cherubs think trickster mode is an acceptable way to solve problems.

And, as Dirk pointed out back when he was still himself, everyone getting married and having a bunch of babies for no reason doesn’t solve shit.

Without a solid timeline, everyone became susceptible to becoming their ultimate selves. Ultidirk is a dick with the powers of actual capital g God, and none of the remorse of Dirk One, so he took control of the narrative. And so Calliope, the fanfic author, the one with the power to write a new story (with the exception of Dirk, as previously mentioned, he’s immune to cherub bullshit, and John and Terezi, who are still in canon), tried to help everyone realise their full potential.

But she made them selfish. She made them solitary. She doesn’t understand how humans work, so they became parodies of themselves. In meat, there’s a plot, but it’s insubstantial, because no one is truly themselves, facing a Dirk who lost himself years ago. In candy, it’s fluff with, again, no substance. It’s trickster mode calmed down. Everyone gets married and has babies, but it makes no sense, and everyone’s miserable.

And John Dirk and Terezi are the only ones who see it, because they’re the ones who haven’t been given to Calliope. But what’s the point, when they’ve lost their power over the story? What’s the point of gaining power if you’re not yourself anymore? (And one way or another, they all die in the end.)

The rest of them… Well, they do the things the narrative implied they would do, but usually in the worst possible way.

(Aradia and Sollux have been canon neutral since 2011 and they like it that way)

And now we go back to Detective Pony, like everyone and their mother have analysed already. Because yeah, these two things have so much in common, but also, some really crucial differences.

Both are stories in which Dirk takes control of the narrative, in which he is fought for control by another author figure, in which he considers his own role in the story, what he’s created, who’s got the authority (I still love that pun so much), and eventually forces the characters to come to the conclusion that he needs to be defeated, because at the end of the day Dirk is still hopelessly suicidal and like most problems the kids have, this is never addressed outside of ironic bullshit. (Not to him anyway, it’s kinda addressed in candy but I think if you’re talking about someone’s suicidal tendencies at their funeral it’s too fucking late).

But Detective Pony is ultimately a heavily veiled love letter to his friends. Detective Pony is Dirk exploring what he fears becoming, it’s him learning to let go, and eventually he relinquishes control of the book to the characters in it (as does Jeanne Betancourt).

Meat is Dirk’s notice of ownership over his friends. It’s him glorifying having become that thing he used to fear, it’s holding even tighter to everything he fears losing, and ultimately neither he nor Calliope trust the characters enough to pull back. They’re both obsessed with it, in both iterations, this battle between the two of them, even though it was never supposed to be about either of them.

But Detective Pony has an original story, with a timeline. It even has a second solid story for Dirk to come from, since Homestuck itself explicitly states when and why Dirk made it. When Detective Pony sits down to analyse which version of the text is better, it has that substance to fall back on. Jeanne Betancourt’s version is boring but kind. Dirk’s is interesting but cruel. And because the characters are all solid people, not their hazy ultimate selves, they have agency too, and can decide their own fate.

When Dirk analyses whose version is better in the epilogue, his whole reasoning is that neither is good. The characters rarely have any agency. Even the few moments, between Roxy’s void powers and Dave’s ability to stand up to Bro (which, by the way, so proud of him, how many people do you know who, in a situation where their childhood guardian and abuser literally became god and tried to thought influence them into doing something they kinda wanted to do already, would have the mental resilience to say “no, this isn’t me, stop that” and stand by that? Dave is the strongest goddamn character in this whole comic, holy shit), are only hints of who they were as real characters in the story. Dirk takes control, in one version, because he’s lost himself to Ultidirk, who’s overly concerned with how stories are supposed to be written, and tries to wrestle Homestuck into a shape he finds interesting. In the other, Dirk kills himself before he can hurt anyone. (And before anyone gets on my case about Dirk’s reasoning being he’s lost his purpose, his purpose was always protecting his friends.)

But Calliope’s not helping them either, just piling them full of romance and fluff and selfish parodies of themselves and thinking that’ll work out. Giving the villains “redemption” without ever actually letting them redeem themselves. Explaining all about their tragic backstories without doing anything with it. To bring back a very old quote, it’s like when Mario gets the star. He wins, but he’s denying himself many powerful moments of catharsis.

Just with less happiness, more death, and a bunch of weirdly political teen drama. And then when Calliope gets distracted by Ultidirk and gives up, everything unravels completely, but it also lets them live a life which does let some of the characters be happy, in a weird roundabout way. It’s dysfunctional as fuck, but these characters care so much for each other, not even being in a weird self melting fanon bubble could erase that completely. (And then things get buck fucking wild because this is still Homestuck we’re talking about)

(Though seriously, I could have done without the Jane is a fascist thing, she deserves better than that. Like what was the point of decrockertiering her if she was just gonna go right back to that? Also I love Dave but he barely has a leg to stand on in most of those political arguments anyway given how he completely destroyed LoHaC’s economy and once accused Karkat of communism for captchaloguing a chair. And while I’m complaining, Jake English is still not being allowed to consent to fucking anything.)

I’m not sure why this was written. I’m not sure why a lot of things in Homestuck were written, honestly. It’s certainly not a satisfying ending, but I don’t think it was supposed to be. It’s not disappointing either, and it’s definitely interesting, with all of Homestuck’s trademark humor.

When I first wrote this halfway through candy, I’d written the following as an ending:

“But if we’re going to triple kill the author, I think this is just ultimately validating everyone’s own interpretation of the ending. You can’t write everyone’s fanfic at once. You can’t be a cherub, or a god, we don’t write fic about people’s ultimate selves. What you can do is provide a timeline for them to exist in, and a better one, where they have a chance to be the people they have the potential to be. And just to be happy, in a way that feels real.”

But honestly, now? I think the point was just to fuck with us, and also do a fuckton of exposition about canon and the nature of reality

So fuck it, let’s end on a relevant Dirk quote

[limited-practice]

Communications Expert Part 2

It’s a lot of fun to write quick and dirty scenes about my favourite Outlier nerd getting it on with his human and I’m writing a lot of them, so this series now has a title. This part is a direct continuation of part 1 and is shorter but still explicit. 

Communications Expert part 1

2001 words of Hubcap/female reader are under the cut.

Hubbcap’s metal fingers are smooth and hot. They’re not rough and textured from a lifetime of manual work, and they’re not cool or cold or warm like the other cybertronian fingers you’ve come into contact with during the course of your work here. They’re hot. 

“You’re running hot,” you tell him, as you lean back against him and keep your legs only slightly open.

“That’s, ah, yes. I guess. I mean- um, I am with you. So.” He responds lightly but hesitantly, uncertain if you’re being serious or flirty and not quite convinced that you like feeling him like this.

You stroke his fingers that are on your chest. “I like it,” you reassure him. You slide your fingers down between the gaps of his fingers and intertwine them with his. “I like you. I was just wondering about it. About you. I, ah, wonder about you a lot. Have wondered. Am still wondering.”

He squeezes your voluntarily trapped fingers gently. “Good. Um. Yes, good.” 

You smile softly and hear the smile in his voice. 

He rubs his thumb over your joined fingers. “I guess...well, I think it’s because of my abilities. How I can block and boost signals. I’m swimming with frequencies that people haven’t come up with words to describe let alone explain them to me and- and I think some of them power up in certain situations and run through me and heat me up and- and yeah. I guess you could say that you...turn me on a lot.”

You smile wider, and a gush of embarrassed heat vents out of him after he says that. You move your fingers in order to extract them from his, and it takes Hubcap a few seconds to realise that you want to break contact with him. He springs his hand open immediately, like a trap that’s caught something precious it shouldn’t have, and you can feel his worry and disappointment bleed through his spark and into your back. 

Before he can convince himself that you’re bored or repulsed by him and have been all along, you put one of his hot metal fingers in your mouth and suck it.

His cooling system activates with a loud click. You hear the soft rotation of fans embedded in his frame and feel a soft but persistent stream of warm air on your skin. 

You lick his finger thoroughly. Up and down and then back into your mouth to suck it and swallow it down to the knuckle. You slide your mouth off of it with a small wet pop and kiss it. Then you put another finger in your mouth and start your attentions over. Then you choose another finger. You take turns tasting all of his digits twice over, and by the time you’ve finished his fans are whirring steadily and the temperature of his vented air is climbing. 

“You’re running hotter now,” you say, making sure your voice has a clear teasing tone to it so he won’t doubt himself again. “And you taste good.”

Hubcap puts both of his hands on your thighs. He angles his hands so that his fingers dip down onto your inner thighs and uses them to spread them ever so slightly more. 

“...I’m glad,” he says, as he caresses your inner thighs with both sets of fingertips. “And yes. I’m- you make me like this. Hot. Hot and happy.”

You involuntarily spread your legs wider for him. But his exquisitely molten fingers don’t delve any deeper or stroke any harder. You’re pressing back into his chest harder, and are leaking all over his thighs.

“I, ah, would like- I mean- if it’s OK with you?” he says. Asks. Stutters.

You want to do anything and everything with him.

You grasp his dick with one hand and squeeze him lightly.

His frame tenses and his fans snick up another gear and his fingers press harder into your skin. 

“Yes,” you say, squeezing him again in the hope that he’ll copy you again and touch you firmer. “Tell me what you want. I, ah, want to do it all with you.”

Hubcap puts his mouth next to your ear, and lowers his voice as if he’s admitting a shameful secret that you might not want to hear but he’s screwing up his courage and is going to ask it anyway. 

“...can I taste you?”

You stop squeezing him, and he immediately stiffens with fear that he’s played this wrong and has ruined everything. “I mean of course if you don’t want to that’s no problem at all it’s not even an issue it’s--”

You cut off his babbling by kissing him.

It's your first kiss together, and it takes him by glorious surprise. 

He kisses you back eagerly, somewhat desperately but still carefully, as if he can’t believe that you actually want to be this intimate with him. You moan into his open mouth and he moans back into yours, and everything is hot and wet and perfect. He tastes like a charged battery. He tastes delicious.

He breaks the kiss and puts his lips on your neck. He kisses up towards your ear, and before you can say or do anything he whisper-rasps “Please. Please let me just- taste more of you, just- please lay on your back?”

You nod quickly.

He manhandles you carefully but efficiently onto your back. In fact his movements are so precise it’s as if he’s practised them before. It’s as if he’s run this scenario through his mind a thousand times and mapped out every movement in the slim chance that it would one day become reality. 

There is so much space on the bed that you could stretch your arms out to either side and not come close to reaching either. But in a burst of spontaneity you decide to put them elsewhere. You put one behind your head to use as a pillow, and look up at him to see if he knows what you’re doing and that you’re not mocking him.

It takes him a few seconds, but he catches on. 

“That’s, ah, the position you...found me in when you came in.” He tries to say this casually with a hint of fake admonishment at you, but his shy voice is all repressed happiness that you found him in the first place and still want to be here with him.

“Not quite,” you say. 

Your other hand slides down your thighs and dips in between your legs. His eyes widen, and that’s the moment you touch yourself. You’re so ready for more that one swipe of your finger on your clit has you inhaling and tensing, and that’s the moment you see a look on his face that tells you he's decided to be spontaneous himself. He lowers himself down, props himself up on forearms, and puts his face right in front of where your finger is working on yourself. 

“...that’s still not right,” he says lowly.

You swallow, and add a second finger to the one that’s rubbing circles on yourself. The heat from his face is mixing with the heat from your body, and when he finally puts a hot hand on your thigh and uses it to spread one leg wider so he can see you better that’s when your skin erupts in sweat.

“Better, but- still not right. Still not accurate.”

You want to say something sharp and witty and fun about how much of a controlling tease he is, but all possible words have died on your tongue. You pick up the pace, but he puts a hand on yours to stop you.

“I did it slowly.” His voice is thick and his eyes bright. “I...took my time. Like this.”

He guides your hand into rubbing circles on yourself at the correct speed. It’s even slower than your initial pace, and you breathe deeply and quickly as you watch him move his hand on yours. 

“Better. Yes. Like that. Except…”

He trails off, mesmerised by what he’s seeing. He licks his lips and you buck forward without thinking. This makes him blink and brings him back to the present. 

“Except I didn’t just use fingers. I...used my whole hand.”

You make a whining sort of sound, but manage to gasp out “Then use it.”

He smiles quickly and kisses your inner thigh even quicker, as if scared that he’ll lose this temporary upper hand if he focuses too much on what he wants to do with his mouth. “Here, like this,” he says. “You could...like this.”

He manipulates your hand so that your thumb is now on your clit and your fingers are curled under and inside yourself. Your fingers aren’t that long and there’s not much of them inside you and you need more, you really need more. 

“Try this,” Hubcap says, reading the expression on your face as if you’d screamed your desires out loud.

He pulls your hand forward so that your thumb comes off yourself, which gives you more finger lengths to push inside yourself. He takes a careful but firm grip of your hand, and slowly pumps it back and forth and fucks you with your own fingers. 

You’re dripping wet and this feels so much better. Your hand and his are slick with fluid and your fingers make the most lewd squelching sound as he slowly pumps them in and out of you. He looks like he’s going to combust or offline any second now. 

“I wonder,” you say slowly and with great effort, “If your dick would make the same sounds as my fingers are doing.”

A grinding mechanical sound roars from inside him and he bites his lip in desperation as he concentrates on maintaining the slow pace he’s sentenced you to.

You’re so close now, and caution and reserve are dead. “You said you wanted to taste me but you're not. After you’ve finished you can clean my fingers off and - ah - make it up to me.”

His reponse is to fuck you even slower. 

When you start panting and are unable to say another word, that's when he angles your fingers up slightly so they’re now higher and to the side, which creates a small space for something more. As he pulls your fingers almost all the way out of you he lines up one of his own fingers from his other hand and pushes all of them back inside. His finger is longer and thicker and hotter and-

-and if the technology existed to translate your noises, they would be translated as “thank fuck yes that’s the perfect fit don’t you dare stop or do anything else this is perfect, perfect.”

Hubcap is the best communications expert alive, and can understand more signals than even he thought possible. He doesn’t change his pace or add or remove a finger and he’s fucking you with dirty purpose now and it feels good, it feels really good and you don’t want it to ever end and you want to tell him this but you can’t and--

And you come with a cry and an arching of your back and a clenching down on your joined fingers and fuck.

It takes a few moments before you can hear anything through the pulse of blood in your ears, and another few before you relax and unclench. 

Hubcap slowly withdraws your hand and his finger and looks at them in naked greed. You make eye contact and he immediately sucks them into his mouth. He is revving loudly and burning up, and you’re not sure whether he’s come himself.

He finishes cleaning your fingers, and rests your hard working hand on your stomach. The arm behind your head is beginning to tingle from constricted blood flow, but you have little energy to move it right now. You feel warm and relaxed and satisfied. You look up at him and smile indulgently. 

“You can make it up to me now.”

[agentdagonet]

I LOVE your Eggsy Sees Ghosts series and would love to see the Merlin/Roxy edition.

So, @leeef I actually wasn’t sure what to do with this- both because I have 2 AUs in that series so I wasn’t sure which to expand on, and because those AUs are so Gen I couldn’t see any shipping in it. It just… is. Not sure I can articulate it proper.

BUT I was suddenly hit with this idea for Merlin, and maybe one will hit me for Roxy later, but for now have this! It’s weird, I don’t know what it is, but it’s here! 

Takes place in the verse where Harry dies in Kentucky.

Merlin’d always been able to see the things that others couldn’t.

It was a bit of a problem, actually. It had made children reluctant to be his friend, teens eager to avoid his knowing gaze, and peers at university jealous of his success- sometimes to the point of accusing him of academic dishonesty. Which such a load of tosh that any professor with whom the accusation was shared would pretend to take it serious until the door shut behind them before tossing it into the rubbish.

The things people would do to feel better of themselves.

Luckily the trend wasn’t as noticeable after graduation- though whether that was due to his ceasing to take notice or an actual decline of the behaviour was anyone’s guess. Merlin puttered about with whatever technology he found made available to him, allowed his mind to run with whatever strange possibility came to him.

That the source of such ideas was the apparent-spectre of a long-dead futurist who had desperately attached himself o the first intelligent being who could see him was no one’s business but his own. Not that he acknowledged him, nowadays. 

As a child his parents had chalked up his mutterings to an imaginary friend- and, honestly, it wasn’t as if he knew any better. But, as the years passed, it became less and less acceptable to speak to the air as if it would respond, and Merlin had grown quiet. He’d grown more studious, forever writing in notebooks and sketching whatever idea came readily to him, and his family had sighed in relief as Nik had faded from their lives.

The key word was their lives, as the spectral man had done nothing but time his conversations for when they were unseen. Or, that is, when Merlin was supposed to be asleep and instead was up experimenting with whatever he could get his hands on.

So, when someone asked where he had the idea for whatever innovation it was at the time, Merlin learnt to answer without answering.

‘Oh, I’m inspired by Nikola Tesla.’

—

Slowly, though, even Merlin began to doubt what he was seeing. Who he was seeing. There was no reasonable explanation for a ghost of a man with no logical connection to him to be haunting him, so obviously it was wishful thinking. A longing for intellectual connection, manifest as some form of hallucination he would not bring notice to for fear of ruining his career.

By the time Merlin became Merlin, as entrenched in Kingsman as the roots of the great Life Tree, he didn’t acknowledge Nik. It wasn’t personal, he told himself; it was simply time for him to grow up and face the fact that he was projecting insecurities and subconscious desires as a way to not take responsibility for his more eccentric or ambitious endeavours.

Yes, he’d privatised the sorts of things Tesla had wanted to provide for all, but he had done so not out of a bid for monetary compensation but for security for the world. For everyone. Had the world developed into a kinder place, a safer place, perhaps he’d have taken the altruistic road. But, as it was, the world was a dark and cruel place- so Kingsman needed what no one else had, they needed the best, so that’s what Merlin made.

The years passed, and Merlin studiously ignored the things he saw moving in the corner of his eye. The people who weren’t fully there, the ones he had seen die but somehow walked past him in the halls, and especially the once-man who has guided him and inspired him. The one he hadn’t looked directly at or listened fully to in nearly a decade.

It was only by luck that Nikola was even nearby, the day Harry died. He’d been spending more time elsewhere- other inventors to watch, the possibility of finding another Seer- there was an incredibly finite number of things his moving On could be tied to, this many years later, but he was still hoping to figure it out. He had no desire to see the world continue to spin in the same old way and be unable to spin along with it.

Nikola Tesla was tired in the way he hadn’t known ghosts could be.

—

Eggsy walked out of the bullet train and toward Merlin with a surety he’d been sorely lacking the last time he’d been on Kingsman grounds.  Nik kept himself to the shadows, as far from Merlin as he could be while still being able to hear what was going on, but could clearly see the two men at Eggsy’s shoulders, like heaven and hell themselves resting at his back.

One bore an incredible physical likeness to Eggsy, while the other was Merlin’s friend- so there was the proof that he had, indeed, perished on Kentucky soil. However, what was more interesting was the calculated look Harry Hart gave Merlin before stepping around Eggsy and approaching him directly. Harry spoke clearly and concisely, outlines a simple but efficient plan, and demanded that Merlin look him in the eye.

Nik had never been one to push the boundaries of his forced transparency, had never bothered to note the ability to know one thing over another; his fascination had been with the physical and electrical. How the energies of the world interacted- discovering that he was unable to influence such things while still having consciousness had been frustrating, to say the least. It had taken the joy from exploration, so he’d been content to find anyone who could see him- and eventually lucked out with Merlin, a child who had both the ability to see him and understand his prodding.

But, perhaps he’d been thinking on too large a scale. Perhaps the connections and transmissions he should have been focusing on were smaller, and infinitely more complex.

As Nikola Tesla watched Harry Hart demand his Merlin’s attention, as he realised that Eggsy could see them, and thus would (he assumed) be able to see himself… He wasn’t sure what he felt. He hadn’t needed to breathe in decades, he hadn’t been able to communicate actively with another being since Merlin’d begun ignoring him, and he had lost all passion to create at about the same time. But here was this Moment, the child he had seen come into his own and the generation after, and suddenly there was meaning. Purpose, though it had long been achieved. 

In a moment built from a billion fragmented actions, Nikola Tesla realised that he was ready to move On.

—

Merlin looked up at the gasp from the corner, forced his gaze from Harry and turned toward the shadows that Nik had kept himself to for the past… He didn’t even know how long, and he felt guilty for having ignored the man so thoroughly.

Nik was watching with wide, sad, eyes and a small smile. The kind of look Merlin had only received after making some offhand remark about not needing anyone else when he’d had Nik. It was a look of resignation, with some small bit of pride hidden beneath. Unfortunate pride in a skill borne from necessity instead of desire.

‘Are you okay, old friend?’ Merlin hesitated in calling him by name, somehow feeling as if he was unworthy of use informality. Nik wiped at his eyes, and smiled more fully for being Seen.

‘Oh, yes- I’ve just discovered why I’d been made to stick around, you see. I’ve finished it all, and so…’ He shrugged, palms open, and Merlin allowed himself a moment to grieve the loss of a friend he had not treated as he should have in recent years.

‘I know that I haven’t been-’

‘You’ve been precisely what you needed to be- no more, no less. And I thank you, for humouring an old man’s fanciful ideas,’ Merlin opened his mouth, but Nik cut him off once more, ‘we’ve accomplished a great many things together, and I have the nagging suspicion that you’re going to accomplish a great many more before we cross paths again. Now,’ Tesla placed a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, the air just a bit cooler there than in the rest of the room, and dipped his head once before walking from him, ‘go stop Valentine.’ Nikola refused to look back, though he tipped his head lightly at Eggsy and Harry as he passed by.

He had faded from view entirely, and Merlin stared blankly at where he had been, until Eggsy grasped him by the wrist.

‘Merlin, y’alrigh?’ His eyes were earnest, and Merlin wondered if Eggsy had any idea how fully his emotions were displayed on his face. But, no matter, they had time to teach him those skills more fully now. Unfortunately. ‘… Who was he?’ It was whispered, with a brief glance to where Nik had last been.

‘The greatest mind I’ve ever known.’

Taking Kingsman prompts! Never really know what’s going to happen to them but I’ll try my hand at anything once!

[ventrue-rosary]

Monster Layer

I couldn’t resist the pun title! Some werewolf smut featuring my blood hunter Amaranthe Darcelle. Edited to be extra hot and horny by my bf @bigdadsheps

Like my work? Buy me a Ko-Fi!

As a junior member of the blood hunter order, Amaranthe was used to drawing the short straw and being left to deal with their common contracts: Killing the werewolves that always settle in the forests surrounding the capital.

She has no idea how they replenish their numbers so quickly. There are rumours throughout the barracks they kidnap local villagers and use them as breeding tools, but thats all they are: rumours, fuelled by the high hormones for all these post adolescents in desperate need of a lay. Though she is a hypocrite to make such judgements. She's ashamed to think of all the times she has passed the night with a hand in her underwear with the wild imaginings of sleeping with one manner of beast or another. But what young woman wouldn't be curious about the sexual rituals of these creatures, so foreign but familiar to them?

‘I heard its mating season,’ jeers Zia with a smug smirk. ‘Have fun out there, just not too much fun.’

Amaranthe merely rolls her eyes at the comment. To think, Zia is her superior both in terms of rank and age but yet she had the same mental maturity as a prepubescent boy. But Amaranthe refuses to take the bait, gliding past her without so much as acknowledging her presence. Zia makes a disgruntled noise but doesn't bother pushing her further for which she is glad for. 

Still, what a terrible start to her day. She wonders how it would proceed to go even worse as she takes to the road.

Nightfall approaches as she reaches the parts of the woods that witnesses claim to have seen lycans. Night time is both the best and worst time to hunt--they are at full strength, particularly during a full moon. But, well, it is impossible to discern man from monster during day, when they revert to their humanoid form. Plus, it is easier to compartmentalise the act of murder if they don't look like a person.

Amaranthe kneels downs, and spies several sets of inhuman tracks leading away to the north. She follows the tracks that eventually lead her to a cave. Night has fully fallen. She is in the most danger, but she can't back down now. She has come so far…

Amaranthe steps into the gaping maw, her half-elven eyes quickly adjusting to the gloom. One long cavernous passageway dripping with stalactites ends in shadows. From within the dark, she hears several voices speaking in guttural snarls. Her grip on her battleaxe tightens as she steps further in.

The passageway eventually slopes downwards into a large chamber that ends in a large pool of water a waterfall feeds into. She sees three lycans, all bathing in the water.

Amaranthe cocks her head at this curious display. Since when have they cared about such things as hygiene?

She watches closely as she navigates downward as quietly as possible. If she maintains her stealth, she might be able to drop one before the others realise.

The werewolves turn and mutter something in an animalistic tone to one another. She can't understand the words but it seems civil, at least. 

One werewolf approaches another with surprising grace given its stature. He gets up close to him, oddly close, then circle to the back of him, placing his hands on his hips and….oh…

Amaranthe's foot catches on loose stones at that point. She feels her feet slip out from under her, and rolls and bounces to the bottom of the decline with a loud and sore crash.

She lets out a pained groan as she lays there, paralysed by the ache coursing across her body.

A first,  second and then third werewolf head appears above her, glaring down at her with snarling, slavering snouts and red eyes reduced to angry slits.

One loops a single claw through her cloak fastening and pulls her torso up off the ground so they are eye-to-eye.

‘What is this?’ He speaks in an unnaturally deep and thick voice. ‘A little huntress has stepped into our lair.’

‘What a helpless, fragile little thing.’ It drags a claw down her cheek, drawing blood. ‘Are you here alone?’

She thinks back to the conversation she had earlier that day, and with flushed cheeks she cries “I-I can be more useful in other ways.”

The lycans do not miss her implication. 

With one loud tearing sound one of the lycans renders her shirtless, ripping off both cloak and shirt. She lets out a cry of surprise as the cold air hits her now bare chest, breasts swaying slightly from their sudden release from the restraining garments.

The bloodlust in their eyes morphs into a different sort of lust as they behold her breasts heaving with each laboured breath she takes, as her own feelings of fear are caving in place of desire.

They silently regard each other for a moment before she is divested of the rest of her clothes, leaving her naked and exposed for them.

With a freak growl a claw-tipped hand grabs her by the hips and flips her so she is on all fours. Her thighs tremble as she feels the tip of a very thick, hot cock flirt with the entrance of her pussy, embarrassed at her own wetness and desire. She bites her lip in anticipation as the tip of the enormous cock begins forcing its way inside her tight cunt, slowly, stretching to accommodate his overwhelming size. She feels as though she is going to be split in two as the knot pushes up against her opening, pressing firmly against her clit.

She opens her mouth to let out a gasp only for it to be filled by a second huge cock. She  doesn’t even try to fight it, relaxing her throat to take it all the way in until her lips settle at the knot at the base of its dick. She can feel the warm throbbing of it as it gags her, the smell is intoxicating as it fills her nose, the thick musty scent of lycan pheromones and precum, now she is overcome by lusty desire, almost against her will she allows her tongue to massage the base of where his knot ends at her mouth. Getting a pump of sweet precum as a reward. She swallows it, greedily daring to suck as best she can with the oversized member pinning her against the knot of the other lycan, she feels truly like being split down the middle, as if their tips would touch inside her at this rate. But the show wasn’t over yet.

 An unnaturally long tongue pushes into her ass, massaging the walls of her anus until they are slick with spit. The tongue retracts only to be replaced by the tip of the third huge cock. The pain wants to make her squirm away, but two strong hard cocks keep her stiffly in place. She gasps and groans around the cock stuffed in her mouth as all three of her holes are savagely and mercilessly ravaged. The third cock forces its way inside her tight ass. She tries to let out a moan or a scream but before either can come forth she only gives the lycan in front of her the ability to cram more of his cock into her mouth and more of his knot against her lips. Waves of pleasure and pain course through her body from every orifice. Each swift hard thrust pushes her closer and closer to the edge. If it wasn't for the fact her mouth is otherwise preoccupied she would likely be screaming loud enough for all of Evermeet to hear.

The only free limbs she has are her legs and arms, her legs limply sway as they retract together, giving her a small chance to breathe in the scent of sex all around her, saliva and precum making a mess of her mouth as her mascara runs down her face. Then they thrust, and her mind breaks, all she wants is this forever. They cram every inch of themselves into her body, using her like a toy. Without thinking, she begins wrapping her hands behind the lycan in front, pulling his cock deeper into herself with every thrust as she grabs that tight muscular ass. He responds by more vigorously abusing her throat. The moans come unbidden now.

Their paces pick up as they all approach the the climax, as one by one they push their full cock followed by their knots intos enter her, at the same time she feels her pussy and ass contract to embrace their full size. Ecstasy overwhelms her senses, as they compress her between their muscles, all she can see, hear and feel is them, in every inch of her and all around her. as she finally hits that euphoric high, quickly chased by all three of her holes being filled with hot, delicious cum. As she orgasms again and again, their cum travels down her throat filling her belly from one end as the cocks in the rear fill the rest of her insides. The cum keeps pulsing into her and soon she feels her stomach bulging with their warm  juices. She loves the taste and swallows it all willingly.  

She feels herself going numb as the waves of her orgasm begin to recede, and the afterglow begins.

They slowly withdraw their knots, each one coming out with a messy pop and leaving a mess of all her entrances.

Amaranthe collapses to the floor, cum slowly oozing out of her and coating the inside of her mouth and her lips. A sodden sticky mess but she can't bring herself to care as she lies in the afterglow, thoroughly satisfied but exhausted. 

One of the lycans walks up to her, she can guess how she had pleasured him by the lipstick that encircles the base of his knot.

‘I think we should keep her,’ a voice croons as they tilt her head upwards with one talon. ‘How about it little huntress?’

Her heart thrums with excitement as she sees his dick hardening again. God she wants to take the knot again already. She licks her lips.

Amaranthe props herself up on her knees, looking up at him through her lashes. ‘I’ll be a good, loyal pet to you.’

He smirks. ‘Good,’ he growls as he easily picks her up and begins lowering her down onto his already erect cock.

[cowboy-canoodler]

A High Note of Love: Part 3

(Part 3 of my Arthur Morgan x Reader Fic, follow the “A High Note of Love” tag for updates! I will also be uploading them to Ao3 when I sign up lmao)

(More Smut here, but also heart felt shit, I also realised I’m not good at writing smut so you have my heartfelt apologies)

Summary: You’re a Singer in a Saloon in Saint Denis (of which Arthur Morgan will now frequent), you sing to crowds and captivate them Arthur Morgan included. He was drawn to you in a way he’d never known.

Master list: http://cowboy-canoodler.tumblr.com/post/183094165570/a-high-note-of-love-master-list

The door closed behind you, your breath hot and heavy as you clutched your chest. This was torture, no man could be that handsome, it should have been illegal. What you did to him was cruel, you knew that, leaving him there half baked and ready to cum, the look in his eyes was just too sexy. He begged you to let him come and you denied him, being in control was amazing and you enjoyed every minute of it.

You heard a commotion from the bathroom, this had to be Arthur, no man in his right mind could resist an offer like this, especially if that offer was only halfway done. You walked over to the bed and pulled the rest of the pins that held the rest of your hair up letting it all fall down, it was slightly messy and a touch damp from Arthurs hands, you set the pins down on the table and sat waiting for Arthur to inevitably open that door.

And open that door he did.

Arthur clutched his clothes in his left hand, his right hand curled around the door handle. No hat, no shoes, only his wet shirt and trousers clinging to his damp body, dick bulging in his open trousers. Tousled hair rested on Arthurs forehead as he panted, his chest rising up and down, as he stared you in the eyes, his were filled his lust, desire, and hunger. Hunger for you. The door was slammed shut and Arthur dropped the clothes, he stepped forward and closed the gap between himself and the bed in a second, before you knew it he was on top on you, hands either side of your head, his right knee in between your legs, his left by your side.

You stared him down thoroughly, your eyes not blinking once as you gazed into his. “Well Mister Morgan? Care to care for me?” You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him to you, his whole body pushed against yours, his knee pressing into your warmth, you could feel his dick pressing onto your thigh. Your lips attacked his before he had time to answer you, your hands running through his hair, you were hungry to have him all to yourself. As you kissed him Arthur made work of your corset, undoing it with a talent like none other, you grinded your pelvis against Arthurs leg, massaging your own intimate area before he could get a hold of you. 

Arthur pulled away from you and took his shirt off, tossing it to the floor, meanwhile you removed the rest of your corset and your chemise revealing your bare breasts. Arthur stared at them in awe and you stared at him too, you had looked at him in the bath but in front of you was a different story, your breath was heavy and you caressed the back of Arthurs neck. “Take me Mister Morgan, I need you too” You whispered between breaths, staring him intently in the eyes.

“You don’t even need to ask (Y/N)” His mouth was on your left nipple, left hand grasping your right breast,other hand nest to your head, he pinched with his teeth and his fingers, nearly sending you over the edge waves of pleasure enveloped you and you grinded even harder against him, moans of pleasure escaped your throat between bated breaths, “Ahh Arthur” you clenched your fist in his hair pulling slightly, this earned a buck of his hip into you a low growl coming from the animal devouring you.

Arthurs hand left your nipple and made its way down to your bloomers, he slipped in and rubbed between your folds sending pins and needles all over your body each hair standing on end “Fuck!” Arthur worked rhythmically massaging your clit and twirling his tongue around your nipple your breath was getting heavier and your vision was cloudy, you were close and Arthur knew it. He pulled down your bloomers to reveal your entire body, you suddenly felt embarrassed to show him, it was no longer a mystery, no air of curiosity, and this embarrassed you beyond belief. 

Arthur didn’t seem to care though, his tongue was still working wonders on your nipple, one hand rubbing over your body and the other still rubbing your clit. You had never felt better, any man you’d been with before was sub-par to him and if there were any men in the future, this would be the experience you compared them too. You hadn’t even started fucking yet and you were in ecstasy Arthurs hands worked wonders around your body, responding to every jolt and involuntary move from the pleasure he sent through you.

“Arthur please” you moaned, clutching his hair and pulling him to look at you, “Please” you begged, pleaded him, desire had taken over you and you were close to orgasm.

“You think I’m gonna let you cum after what I got?” Arthur smirked at you and shoved two fingers into you.

“Ah!” You threw your head back as Arthur drew his fingers in and out of you, he looked at you directly as your eyes rolled back into your head.

“You enjoying that Miss (Y/LN)” He teased you, you wanted to reply but all cognitive function had shut down with the pleasure, all you could muster was a grunt and a nod. You were sweating, your knees shaking, breath wild with desire and he just stared at you, lust filled his eyes. “You look so damn beautiful” Arthur pulled away from you and took his trousers off baring himself to you, he wasn’t particularly large but my god was he thick, a single vein running from base to head.

“Please Arthur, I need you” You crawled towards him, and placed your right hand on his chest a small whimper escaping from your lips.

“What was that? I didn’t quite hear ya” Arthur raised a brow, “Wanna say that a little louder?”

“Arthur” you raised your voice, “please fuck me”. A demanding tone took over you as you pressed your body onto his, your left hand into his hair.

“As you say” Arthur pushed you down and positioned himself between your legs, he teased at your entrance as you squirmed under his gaze, he was enjoying every single minute of being in control of you. One swift move and both of you were enveloped in pleasure, an earthquake could have happened and neither of you would have cared, the only thing that existed was you and him in this moment.

“Arthur!” You threw your hands over your head and clutched the bed sheets beneath you to grasp a sense of reality, Arthur pulled out from you and thrust back in earning a loud moan of gratification from both of you. “Faster, please, Arthur” You said between breaths as he slowly thrust in and out of you, both of you were out of breath and begging for more, and yet you also wanted this to last as long as possible. You didn’t want the chance that he may finish and leave you, never to be seen again.

“As you say, ma’am” Arthur sped up and threw your legs over his shoulders, moans coming from both of you as your bodies melded together in passionate love making. You didn’t know where you ended and Arthur started, all you could feel was the pleasure he sent through your veins as he thrust in and out of you, stars appeared in your vision and you couldn’t breath right, you were right on the edge.

Arthur was too, the sight of you being in so much pleasure made this all worth it, his thrusts were desperate and out of rhythm, he took his right hand and started rubbing your clit, he wanted to see you cum first.

“Arthur I’m gonna-” your hips started buckling and a shake ran through your body “Aaah!” you screamed as you reached your climax you didn’t care if anyone heard you, you wanted to shout to the world that you were cumming

“Yeah that’s it, you a good girl” Arthur kept rubbing you and thrusting as you were cumming, each thrust maximising your orgasm “Arthur, oh Arthur” you repeated his name as you came down from your high, shaking and dizzy.

“(Y/N) I’m gonna-” Arthur panted, you let your legs down from his shoulders and replied, “Cum for me Arthur please” he pulled out from you and shot his load over your stomach, moans of pleasure and satisfaction, his cock twitched with each pump of semen, “Aw fuck” a slight whisper and then it was done.

The room was warm, almost steamy, you and Arthur were sweating and covered in each others juices, both of you out of breath, You were on the bed, your legs sprawled either side of Arthur, he stood at the end of the bed his hands at his sides, head hanging low. You stared at Arthur and Arthur stared back at you, no words could be said, you had said it all with your bodies, after regaining some composure you threw your head back and let out a breathy chuckle.

“That was, really something” you rested your hand on your still heaving chest, Arthur went and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Something?” He questioned, he sounded a little disappointed, You sat up and walked to grab a rag from the drawers.

“Don’t get me wrong Mister Morgan, you really were-” the words escaped you, he’d taken your capacity to think, “I cant even put it into words” you gave a hearty chuckle whilst dabbing away at you stomach.

“I could say the same about you, I’m sorry if I got a little, uhh, dominant is the word I suppose. Hope it didn’t make ya uncomfortable” Arthur proceeded to clothe himself, not facing you once, an aura of shame around him.

“Arthur.” you said sternly, “Were those the moans of someone who was uncomfortable?” You threw the rag onto the bed, and started to re-clothe yourself too.

“I suppose not, but like I said it’s been a while since I been with a woman” Arthur said while closing the buttons on his shirt “didn’t wanna disappoint ya.” You paused for a second, and turned to face him.

“You have high standards, you know that?” You questioned with a stern voice, hands resting on your hip.

“Excuse me?” Arthur looked puzzled as he met your gaze.

“You don’t consider yourself handsome, you don’t think you pleased me sexually, even though both times I was more than adequately reassuring you that you were top notch. You are the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, and you fucked my brains out. I couldn’t speak properly!” You weren’t letting him get down on himself after such a victorious performance, “Arthur...” You walked over to him and placed a hand on his cheek, “Why are you so hard on yourself?”

His baby blue eyes stared into yours, his mouth opened to say something and shut again, “I ain’t a man who deserves to hear good things, I’m a bad man, a real bad man (Y/N). I real hope that you understand that” he pulled away from you and sat on the edge of the bed again, an exasperated sigh left him as he 

“Arthur” you whispered, “I haven’t seen anything that would lead me to believe you’re a bad man. Just because you’re an outlaw?” Arthur gave a slight nod and you sat down next to him, grabbing one of his hands delicately, “Let me tell you something Arthur Morgan, just because a man goes to church and obeys the law doesn’t mean he’s a good man. I’ve known men that do those things and proclaim themselves to be good, but I know that behind closed doors they beat their wives and have their own way with women”

Arthur looked up at you and you cupped his cheek once again, “(Y/N) I appreciate what you’re tryna say but you don’t know me well enough to-” Arthur looked away from you.

“Your eyes tell me everything I need to know Arthur. You may not believe yourself to be a good man but I do” You pulled his face around to meet your gaze, you were being deathly serious to him and he knew it. “This gives you something to think about, okay?” Arthur gave another nod, his mouth slightly open in surprise, you pulled your hand away from his face. “It’s late, I’ll leave you alone with that thought.” You gave Arthur a light kiss on the lips before standing and making your way to the door, picking up your corset on the way. “Oh and Mister Morgan?” you turned to face him and his head shot up to look at you, “I’ll be downstairs in my room, if you need warming up tonight” You shot him another wink before opening and closing the door behind you.

The door closed and Arthur lay back on the bed, exhaustion taking over him.

 “Just because a man goes to church and obeys the law doesn’t mean he’s a good man. I’ve known men that do those things who proclaim themselves to be good, but I know that behind closed doors they beat their wives and have their own way with women.” 

The words rang through his head, she had a point but she doesn’t know all the things he’s done to survive, to protect his family; the amount of men he’s killed, beaten up for debt collection, threatened. No. She didn’t know him at all, but for some reason Arthur wanted her to know him, she never hesitated to touch him and he craved it again, the interaction was intimate but also sweet, the way she caressed his cheek, the kiss she gave him before she left. Before he knew it he was running his fingers over his face in the places she had touched him, there were bite marks and bruises on his neck that she had left for him, a small reminder of what happened and how fierce she was.

Arthur Morgan, a good man? It could never happen...