#it's been a fun ride but God damn I was doing so fucking well until that point

[angelbitezzz]

I got... I got all the way to Absolute radiance on my first try at the Pantheon of Hallownest after not playing the game for like a solid year,,,,

And I died at the final phase 🫠

[m0nnypie]

DREAMER

Warning: smut, sex dream, oral sex (m), profanity, MDNI, +18, characters in yours 20's, degradation

Synopsis: He always captured you, no matter how many times you escaped from prison. But for the first time, you decided to try something different, what if you invaded the dream of the one who torments you the most?

Words: 1.4k

You felt like vomiting with the force he put his boot on your stomach. He always did this, blow you away for a few minutes, then pin you to the floor or the wall, and humiliate you in the worst ways, until it was time to arrest you.

“What’s wrong? Are you going to cry? Jeez… you’re so useless that you’re not even fit to be a villain..” he looked at you with disdain.

“Egh.. You disgust me”

“F-fuck you” you tried to get his foot off you, but he was strong. You might be smart, and even have an interesting quirk, but when it came to physical strength, especially compared to the #2 hero, you lost.

It didn’t take long for the police to arrive, and take you where you belonged, according to the arrogant blond.

But this time things would be different, running away would be too easy. Sometimes you wonder if you're stupid or just dumb, because in all this time you've never thought of invading his dream. Because, like your grandma used to say, dreams are storytellers.

Well, you were about to tell the world a great story about what an incredible hero Dynamight was.

It had been a while since you last entered someone's dream. Not that you hated it, but most people thought using your Quirk was useless, so you rarely used it.

But who would have thought that you would use your beloved Quirk with the one who tormented you the most, the one you wished was dead?

The bad part was that the way you entered dreams depended a lot on the person. You'd seen some that were bridges to cross, others were doors, some were more interesting, like a fast balloon ride. You wondered what the blond one would be like.

After searching a lot, you found it. It was a door, a simple wooden door. You thought it was funny, you imagined that the way he was, it would be something grand, just like his ego.

As soon as you opened the door, you entered something that was probably his house. It was very beautiful and cozy. There were pictures of family and friends scattered around the house, one that caught your attention was of him next to a boy with green hair. It was cute.

You found the silence strange, you imagined that even in his dreams it would be noisy, but you couldn't even find it him. You wandered around the house for a few minutes, too busy to notice the noises coming from the room.

You only noticed the strange sounds when you were already in front of the door. You carefully opened the door, and when you looked into the room, you froze.

There he was, sitting on the edge of the bed, moaning nonsense. And crouched in front of him, there was you, sucking him with devotion. My God. He was having an erotic dream about you.

You closed the door quickly. You didn't want him to notice your presence. You started running towards the exit, thinking that you should never have entered his dream. But something made you stop.

What if... maybe, you took advantage of this moment? I mean, what would be the problem? There's nothing wrong, you'd just be making his dream a little more realistic...

So you slowly walked back to the room, thinking seriously about what you were about to do.

You entered the room confidently. But your confidence died as soon as you looked at your dream version, who was looking at you while sucking the blond, as if you was making fun of you.

You were lucky that he was so focused on the pleasure that he didn't even notice you approaching. You quickly made your dream version disappear, putting yourself in her place. Your nervousness was eating you alive, and if he noticed? No, he wouldn't be able to.

As soon as he didn't feel anything around his own cock, he opened his eyes. Those damn red eyes, so deep, that they pulled you into an endless abyss, from which you would never want to leave.

"What's wrong? Why did you stop? Is my cock too much for you to handle?"

You could feel the shame rising in your cheeks. Letting out a moan when you felt him pulling your head back, with his hand tangled in your hair.

He looked at you from above, almost with disdain. And that, for some reason, made you very wet, making you squeeze your thighs together to get some kind of relief from the sensation that consumed you.

"Poor thing, you're so useless that you're not even good enough for a blowjob... do you need help, bitch?" You could feel him pulling on your hair, which made involuntary moans come out of your mouth.

“Y-yes…please” you felt like you were capable of going crazy with this, the way he looked at you, and how he pulled your hair hard, but without hurting. Fuck, it made you lose any shred of sanity

“This is so embarrassing for you, I almost feel sorry for you…but then I remember what a little slut you really are.” He ran his finger over your lips, then stuck his finger in your mouth, telling you to suck it, even without saying any words.

You practically flooded his hand with your drool, you could feel your pussy vibrating every time you sucked his finger hard, you were pathetic, so ridiculous. You let out a moan when you felt him take his finger out of your mouth. He looked at you as if he felt sorry for you, showing you how pathetic you were.

“You really are such a little bitch, am I going to have to do all the work?” He pulled your head back, holding it for a few seconds before telling you to put his cock in your mouth.

It was huge, it was hard not to choke on every inch that filled your mouth. As soon as he felt it enter halfway, he lowered your head hard, making his cock enter the back of your throat. Making you choke and tears come out of your eyes.

He left you like that for a while, until he felt you grip his thigh because you were having trouble breathing. But he barely gave you time to relax, he quickly started to move your head up and down, while holding you by your ponytail.

You drooled all over his length, taking advantage of the fact that there was no way out, to rub your rough tongue on his cock, and lightly scrape your teeth. This made him moan a little, he wasn't very vocal, how sad you thought. You would love to hear him moan, while he had his cock in your mouth.

In a few minutes he left the movements completely to you, too overcome by pleasure to dare to make any effort. You stuck it all the way down your throat, licking the entire length, releasing your drool along the way, to make it easier every time you put it in your mouth.

You felt his veins pop out, showing that he was close to cumming. Then you started sucking his pink head, while you masturbated the rest of his length with your hand.

Within seconds, he came. You looked at him, flooded with lust, as you swallowed his sperm and cleaned up what had leaked.

“This is just the beginning, you hear me, my little slut?” He held your face, squeezing your cheeks with one hand.

“Yes…” you were overcome with lust, making nothing else cross your mind, other than the enormous desire for him to stick his huge cock inside you and fuck you until you forgot your own name.

Before you could decide anything, he pulled you up, throwing you on the bed. And something you didn’t expect at all happened. He kissed you.

His tongue dominated yours. It was a hot, quick, lustful kiss, taking all the air from your lungs. With the separation, you moaned in frustration.

But soon smiled when you felt him rip your shirt. His hands squeezed your breasts tightly, if it weren't for the immense pleasure, you would probably complain about the pain.

He didn't give you much time before ripping off your shorts and panties. Leaving you now, naked and completely at his mercy. You could see the treacherous smile that formed on his face.

You felt him turn you brutally onto your back, bringing your arms back and holding them. You felt him get closer, his mouth at your ear as he nibbled on your earlobe. His hair tickled. That thought made you laugh.

"Do you think this funny? When I fuck you so hard that you'll forget your own name, I wanna see if you'll laugh."

Oh, yes. This would be a hard night, very hard and fun.

If y'all like, I do pt 2! 😭 Pls reblog or gimme some like or coment, wanna know what u think. 🤌🏻 'N SORRY FOR MY ENGLISH, ITS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE 😭

[partycatty]

are you open to doing hcs or a fic with johnny (mk11 or mk1 variant idc lmao) and reader with dacryphilia? i just know the sex is so good he can make a mf cry. 😭😭

stares at this anon with incredibly wide eyes

mk11 & mk1 johnny cage > dacryphilia

warnings: nsfw, overstim, johnny being a dickhead, author struggles to write dominant johnny bc they know deep down he's a pathetic little bitch boy

notes: oh my god i am . i am so excited. i love this so much i've been holding onto this for .... days . ilysm i'm writing for ALL THREE. lh ymg OGLDJRKSKWJD

masterlist <3

♡

dilf >

• by FAR the most dominant of the three. he's been around. he knows how to please a woman and he'll make that abundantly obvious when you're reaching your fifth orgasm of the night and he's still pumping into you.

• while he's the most dominant, he's a soft dom! he absolutely worships his love like a goddess and will put her pleasure before his. but he's gonna have his fun while he does!

• johnny loves to please you with every inch of his body. facesitting, fingerfucking, thigh riding, cockwarming, humping his boot, eating you out, he will get you all fucked out one way or another. there's a lot of ground to cover on his huge body, and he devotes every square inch to your pleasure.

• he'll mix his praises in with degrading when he's really into it. he blabbers on and on and he gets closer, the degrading taking over when he's about to cum.

• johnny, on really good days, won't be done fucking you until your mascara drips down your cheeks. he's mastered the art of lasting during sex, so he will be hard for quite some time. and even if he goes soft, he'll just stop and eat you out until the erection returns.

• "such a pretty girl... my needy whore... oh fuck, baby, you're killin' me here..." he loves to just say things into your skin. he'll bite your shoulder or bury his face in your folds and still have something to say. a ball gag wouldn't even stop this man from yappin'.

• "just one more, love, i know you can do it for me," he groans into your ear as he plows his fingers into you again. by now, they're nearly pruned from how much he's been fingerfucking you. his other hand is wrapped around your waist while you sit on his lap. when you reach the next orgasm, he gently caresses your thighs. "there we go, good girl. that wasn't so bad, now was it?"

• when you reach the point of mentally breaking, tears prick at your eyes and fall down your cheeks and you pathetically squirm in his grasp. you don't even know how many times you've came, but this man has somehow found a way to make it happen so many times all you can do is sob.

• in his younger days, that wouldn't even be close to implying a finish line for his torture. but now, with age, he knows better. he sees you cry and stops being as rough. he knows it'd just stop feeling good and start hurting or go entirely numb. johnny would still squeeze in one more orgasm though, just for good measure. just to prove that he can.

• aftercare KING. you just lay there like a little soggy sock and this handsome devil will wipe you clean and pepper kisses across your body, telling you how well you did for him.

• "sorry to make you cry, sugar, i just couldn't help it. you looked too damn pretty," he'll mumble into your neck. "every time you cum for me, i just wanna watch it again and again..."

• your coworkers keep asking if you're okay the following morning from how puffy your eyes are and how sore you claim to be from... training.

♡

younger >

let me just say first that it is so unbelievably funny that he is looking at himself on imdb in that gif

• he's so mean. SO MEAN!

• degrader to the max. bro is the definition of a cruel and unusual punishment.

• and yeah the jacket stays on during sex.

• "you like being a filthy whore for a movie star? you gonna take it like a good slut? yeah you are," he'll yap and yap while he downright uses your body. he doesn't rub your clit to make you feel good, he rubs it so you spasm around his dick more. he wants to feel how much you crave his cock, his touch. it's all about him, baby!

• more than anything, he just loves to fuck you in every position imaginable. he wants to be buried in whoever fell victim to his charms, dammit!

• mirrors. send tweet.

• no fr, this guy loves having mirrors in every place he could picture himself having sex in. he'll pull your hair and force you to look at your reflection.

• "no, no, no, baby, don't look at you. look at me. look who's fucking you nice 'n good," he wraps his hand on the front of your neck to make you watch him rail you.

• at this point, his dick is painted with your orgasmic fluids and he's still not done. you're so fucked out you can't even think straight. your body has gone entirely limb and you're just in a hazy bliss. you've finished so many times your entire body is trembling and jerking around, and your cute moans and whines have just turned into gasps but the skin on skin slapping is incessant.

• "you gonna cry?" he asks menacingly, holding your face with one hand. "yeah you are. good fuckin' dick, isn't it?"

• you lazily nod as the gasps turn into sobs. you're just so full of pleasure and pain that you don't know what emotion to feel anymore.

• "pathetic girl, can't handle this much boom?" he chuckles breathlessly, approaching his own high. "just stay like that, baby, i'm close. tell me how bad you need me."

• that doesn't even sound possible in your current state. he may be talking, but all you hear is distant sounds as tears streak down your face.

♡

new era >

• this johnny is like a mix of the former two, but with his own little quirks! i believe this man is a switch through and through with a heavy preference for submission. but, yknow, that being said, sometimes a man just needs to fuck his girl's brains out and watch the tears flow!

• he's a man that's desperate for reassurance and this carries through during sex. he's not insecure, he just loves inflating his own ego.

• "you like that? you like how i fuck you?" he asks with deep whines in between. "tell me how much you love this, baby, please — aah —"

• he'll wipe your tears but secretly pray they keep flowing. it gets him off so good to see how much he affects you.

• also, ngl, i feel like he loves to be overstimulated too. a long ass day of shooting, he comes home and literally wants to get edged and overwhelmed for hours just to release all that pent up energy. he's a crier too <3

• 🚨 🚨 IPAD BABY 🚨 🚨

• he looooves to record you guys have sex, and if he even hears the slightest sniffle from you, the phone shoots to his hand like telekinesis. he's gotta capture every time he fucks you crazy, it's his favorite little memento to hold onto.

• "you look so pretty when you cry," he purrs out, stroking your hair as you choke on his dick. "could never get tired of this sight." he'll play with your hair but also use your throat as his own personal fleshlight. angle or debil.

• if anything, he loves to ruin pretty things. he'll feel accomplished when your lipstick is a mere memory, your clothes are missing buttons and your mascara is now painted down your cheeks. his favorite part of sex is cleaning you up, and his second favorite is ruining you to begin with.

• johnny would honestly love to keep going after you start crying, but he literally can't. he cums the second you're overstimulated because the sight alone gets him there so damn fast. as soon as the waterworks pool in your eyes, he's already getting sloppy with his thrusts and his groans turn into whines.

• he'll kiss your eyelids after sex, the heat of his body providing comfort after the rounds upon rounds of ruthless orgasms. he'd probably also lick your cheek to rid of the tears because it's funny.

[greenishghostey]

imagine eddie plus amazon position

Took some creative liberties with the position, but it worked out in the end (I hope)!

Note: this is filth, again. Also, it's kinda long....

18+ Content MDNI

///

You were used to Eddie suggesting some adventurous stuff to try out during sex. He thought you didn’t know about the Heavy Metal magazines stuffed under his bed. 

But you’d seen it all. Robots, monsters, aliens, the whole nine yards - all surprisingly well illustrated. There was one issue that had a woman and a tentacle monster-thing which probably shouldn’t have had you nodding while reading it, but oh well. 

So, when Eddie suggested the unfamiliar position to you, he also had a visual aid to help win you over. The man was on his back with his head thrown back, flushed neck bared to the woman on top of him. His eyes were rolling back into his skull as sound effects indicated the pace and sounds coming from their fucking. His knees were pulled tightly into his sweating chest while the woman - who looked suspiciously similar to you - rode his cock until they were both delirious and panting like animals in heat. 

-

"God fu-fucking damn it. Babe, c'mon, please."

"You're doing so good, though. Just need to get you a little more warmed up, okay?" You sang, using your own legs to keep Eddie's spread wide. Your hands were covered in lube that was originally cold, sliding and stroking Eddie's cock. He had been whining for the last fifteen minutes - not above begging you to sit on his dick. But that wasn't the deal. If he wanted you in the position he asked for, then he was going to have to work a little harder for it. 

The slick squelching from Eddie fucking your hands was obscene and so loud. It mixed with the hot panting of your breath and the string of groans and curses from him. Eddie had taken to throwing one arm over his eyes because if he looked down at you, the fun would be over within seconds. 

You liked that you had such an effect on him; there was something intimate yet animalistic about it. You craved it in a similar way that he craved you. Most of the time, Eddie chased your orgasm before his own. Huffing filthy promises and praise while pulling your legs onto his shoulders and grinning as you gripped the sheets with white knuckles. But sometimes, he wanted to be roughed up a little. Brought to the precipice of release, only to be held there for as long as you saw fit. 

“You’re making the sheets all wet.” You observed through heavy-lidded eyes. Eddie was an absolute fucking mess. His thick cock was glistening in the low light of his room while his balls were sticky and heavy. You had to stamp down the urge to let him fuck your mouth and empty himself down your throat. But you had agreed to ride him - or rather, fuck yourself on him.  

“I can fucking hear it.” Eddie groaned, moving his arm from his eyes as he glanced downwards. “Christ, fuck, aren’t you done yet?” His face had such a pretty rosy flush to it. 

“Wanna make you feel extra special tonight.” You hummed. His eyes were boring into your skull; you could almost feel the fire of his gaze. You knew you were pushing your luck, but it was too fun to pass up. 

Eddie’s reaction time was always a little too good when he had a set goal. He sat up on one shakey elbow and grabbed the back of your head, bringing your face mere centimetres from his. Eddie was staring at you, unblinking like you were the only thing in the entire world - and he wanted it so bad. 

“You’re done. Now.” Eddie smirked with clenched teeth. 

The fact that he still had enough brain power to talk was impressive. Additionally, the grip he had on your hair, keeping your head in place, was making you sweat and squirm. 

“I’m gonna lie back, you’re gonna sit all pretty on my dick, and then you can go back to being in charge. Got it?” Eddie always knew just the right thing to say. He knew you almost too well, knew just how to make you melt. The guy was in love; it looked good on him. 

You returned his smirk with a giddy smile and an enthusiastic nod. Eddie got himself comfortable again, arranging himself with his legs nearly to his chest. 

You had to wonder if this is what he liked so much about you in that position. The unrestricted view of everything, the heat of seeing vulnerability. The trust of it all was sort of heartwarming. Putting aside the fact that Eddie had gotten this idea from a porno comic. 

His swollen, slick cock twitched as you got yourself comfortable, placing your hands on the backs of Eddie’s thighs. Teasing the leaking tip against your clit was a sweet relief. Finally, you got some of the friction. A guttural moan fell from your lips as you watched the head slip into your cunt. 

Sharp nails dug into Eddie’s legs as you firmly sat on his cock. “You’re so fucking deep like this.” You sighed, the stretch of him finally settling into your drooling cunt. 

“You love it deep, huh?” Eddie groaned, the sweet relief of finally being inside you washing over him in waves. One of his hands gripped your ass, helping you keep balance while also massaging the fat. “Sh-shit even brought the nails out and everything. You sit there for just a little longer, ‘kay?” 

A noise between a moan and a shriek rolled from your throat as Eddie started toying with your clit. He alternated between slow circles, quick slaps, and slippery flicks. The mix of your wet, the lube and his precum creamed at the base of Eddie’s cock - the squelching of it becoming even messier. 

“This isn’t supposed to be about me.” You whined, head rolling to one side as a particularly harsh flick made you keen. 

“Well, this part is. So, keep screaming.” Eddie moaned, slapping at your soaked cunt when you tried to move your hips on him. 

You had a feeling that this night would be a “fight for the upper hand” sort of night. Those happened sometimes when you were both in a sort of feral mood, and both wanted to be on top. Eddie never let sex just be about him, even for a minute or two. 

So, you would need to put him in his place. Like he wanted since his knees were nearly crushed to his sweaty chest. The demon head tattoo staring at you only spurred you on more. 

Your nails returned to digging into the backs of Eddie’s thighs - catching him off guard and making a small line of drool leave his lips. The grinding of your hips got harder as you massaged your g-spot with his cock. 

“Know what? This is about me - god, fuck - hold still for me.” 

Eddie’s wet fingers were still on your clit, but only applied pressure for you to move on. His moans had returned to being closer to whines as he stared at you fucking yourself. He wouldn’t be able to thrust up at all from the position he was in. He was at your mercy, and he loved it. 

“Yeah, yeah, fuck yes.” Eddie chanted, his bottom lip slipping between his teeth. “Your pussy feels so fucking - oh god, oh god.” 

You were shifting between grinding and bouncing now. The sopping drag of Eddie’s cock was simultaneously too much and not enough. “What was that? My pussy feels what?” You groaned, trying to keep your voice somewhat stern and even. 

“So fucking wet, and messy, and - and, Jesus.” Eddie slurred. He felt like he was losing his mind. The tension in his thighs, your nails dragging on his skin and the creamy warmth of your cunt. It was all driving him up the wall as his heart started to hammer. 

“We’re gonna make a mess together,” you purred, legs beginning to shake. “You can cum deep, yeah? Can you do that for me, Eddie?”

“Uh-huh,” Eddie whined, his hair stuck to his face with sweat. “Anything you want, baby. Anything.” 

You grinned, grinding faster and harder until the mattress started to creak. The circles of your hips were messy, but it didn’t matter anymore. The man under you looked like a wreck in the best way possible. He was struggling to keep his eyes from rolling back; beads of sweat were rolling down his neck, and the noises. The noises were a mixture of grunts and moans as he clumsily played with your clit and tried to hold off cumming before you. After a few grounding breaths, Eddie kicked himself into high gear again.

“You love this, don't ya?” He panted, doubling down on the rough circles to your sticky clit. “Just been waiting to get back on top of me and losing your fucking mind.” 

“Just promise you’ll cum with me.” Your voice was hoarse and whimpering. The sweet relief was so close; you just needed Eddie to keep talking. “Promise me, Eddie.”

“Promise. God, fuck - I promise.”

Eddie started to moan and laugh up at you - it wasn’t mocking laughter, he was just having a really good time. The hand massaging your ass moved to deliver a sharp smack to the already raw skin - his laughter getting louder when you whined. You retaliate by scratching your nails down his thighs again, making him shiver and his cock twitch inside you. 

The push and pull continued for who knows how long. It could have been seconds; it could have been minutes. A smack was met with a scratch, and a whine was met with a shiver. Both of you were soaked, and the slick noises were just so right. 

Your knees almost gave out, “I’m gonna cum, Eddie, c’mon, c’mon.” You babbled, slamming your cunt down onto his cock. Your orgasm ripped through you in an instant, jaw hanging open and a low scream filling the dim bedroom.

“‘Atta girl.” Eddie slurred, his voice melting into a series of groans of ‘fuck’ as he emptied himself inside your hot, slick walls. His grip on your ass was definitely going to leave handprints, but that just made it all the better.

[miss-multi45]

ghouls and ghoulettes with a ghoul s/o who is DEFINITELY the freakiest mf in the band, even more than swiss an sodo combined. Pretty please with a cherry on top, I love ya❤️

i love you too, pookie. accidentally wrote this with G/N reader. also this is smutty as shit and i made the reader a brat on most of them, come get y'alls food.

swiss

damn..he might have to up his game.

or he'll just sub while you whisper the most back crackalackin praise and degradation in his pointed ears.

rub his tail as well, that'll have him crying for you and repeating cute little pleas of mercy whilst you're overstimming the poor baby <3.

sodo

battle of the freaks.

refuses to sub unless he's reasonably far down the path of overstimulation.

can and will masturbate you until you physically can't cum anymore and he has to clean you up after.

rain

ohohoho.

rain is a soft dom, but if you flip a switch in him he will fuck you until you're a sore and whimpering bundle of cum-filled cuteness.

so you being even freakier than swiss and sodo is a difficult job for him.

but he doesn't mind, he'll coo at you while you're crying for him to please slow down.

phantom

...he's a switch.

and you're mostly the dom, but sometimes when phant is in a bad mood he will not hesitate to put you in your place with spanking and edging.

when you're the dom, he's a whiney, sweaty mess and so sore.

mountain

oh?

mountain gives off such daddy vibes.

if you've been misbehaving because you just want to get dicked down, that's ok.

you'll just be doing jobs around the ministry while having a remote controlled vibrator buried inside you and mountain sat in the common room reading a book and making you cream your pants over and over again.

aether

another switch.

he will gladly explore kinks with you.

but if he's been horny, and you've been bratty..

well, you'll find yourself sat back to chest in his lap with your legs pressed up to your chest while he fingers you in front of a mirror, forcing you watch yourself cum over and over again.

omega

oh god.

he already has to deal with terzo's flirty comments and touches.

now a ghoul? but don't worry, both of them will treat you to a long night of passionate fornication and brat taming.

alpha

awww.

he loves you so much.

he's always wanted a s/o that's even freakier than him and the others, so you're perfect.

having you ride him while your genitals are getting sore and sensitive with the bullet vibrator buzzing away is just so cute and such a fun way to pass the time.

ifrit

fuck yeah.

the sheer horniness between you to is enough to make the Pope resign because even Jesus can't stop it at this point.

there are times where you're both domming, or both subbing, or both edging each other.

aurora

nice.

i mean, swiss is practically her best friend besides phantom and the ghoulettes, so she knows quite a lot of kinks.

she just didn't expect them to feel that good. she didn't know that you fingering her while she squirted felt so overwhelming, and she didn't know using toys on her clit would make her cry so loud that the poor innocent kits were wondering why she was so scared at two in the morning.

cirrus

oh baby, she'll take good care of you.

she isn't that experienced, but she knows her shit.

you can play with her pussy while she tells you how good it feels, and she can use her tongue and fingers to bring you to the edge and over it more times than you can count while you call her 'mommy'.

cumulus

brat taming queen over here.

she shoots you a look that instantly goes down to your sensitive spots whenever you're misbehaving around the other ghouls and ghoulettes.

later, when you both get to your room, she will punish you while spitting degradation at you and making sure you learn your lesson.

mist

she's not too kinky, she pretty much only has a mommy kink, BDSM kink, and a biting kink.

but she gets a shitload more when you came along.

like damn, she didn't even know she liked it when she cuddlefucked you with her strap and gagged you with her fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet while she told you, "what a good little pet you are."

[pala-destiny]

jock!abby all sweat, trying to “clean” her forehead with her shirt and showing her abs and the team teasing her for her muscles

manny making fun of her saying “don’t go around doing this in front of my sister, she’s off limits” and abby being like “i don’t like girls?????”

joke’s on her, because when she saw you? well, it’s normal to think how’d be like to kiss other girls, right? I mean, everybody thought of this once or twice???

you were sweet. damn sweet with being polite, smiling and it’s so HARD??? FOR ABBY TO STOP LOOKING???? you had a habit of liking and sucking your lips and they look very soft. way softer than hers at least. 

but abby is not into girls, she dated owen for almost two years and she was very sad when things were over. she MIGHT have thought nora was hot at one point or another, but she’s pretty into guys. yeah.

“for a straight girl, you were staring at her tits for too long.” - HARRIS, Nora.

“i wasn’t looking at her.. tits.” - ANDERSON, Abigail (she was)

joke’s on her part two. she’s very into the way you sit on her lap on the couch, almost riding her thigh while kissing her as if it’s the last thing you could do while manny was doing groceries

and she’s also very into the way you felt under her hands. your hair, your neck, your shoulders, arms, back and your fucking delicious ass. god fucking bless your ass.

abby’s too much into the way you kiss down her jaw and neck while caressing her abs with the tip of your fingers. 

she was obsessed with your sweet moans of her name when she sucked a hickie in your collarbone 

all abby wanted to do in that moment was to take your damn shirt off and play with the nipples she has been fantasizing about since she met you. (she was ashamed of it, she admits it. but she couldn’t help but imagine sucking them until you beg her for more)

she let a small moan out when you played with her covered nipples and sucked her bottom lip (abby could feel her pussy clench over the feeling)

“are you fucking serious? you said you’re not into women??” - ALVAREZ, Emanuel.

“wait, you’re not a lesbian?” ALVAREZ, you.

[ashghetti]

hayden christensen fic below (part 1)

wrap party part 1

warnings: sexual tension, kissing, 18+ pls, age gap (not specific, use your imagination.. legally), shit plot but fkn hot, for real tho this man be driving me up a wall, legit bananas for this daddy— y’all know I’m doing a smutty part 2

—

You’d been working on a project together, that’s how your crush started. Honestly it was his fault for being so god damn attractive and one of the sweetest humans you’d ever come into contact with. 

Deep down you felt foolish for having feelings, I mean after all he was older than you and not just by a couple of years. Chances he saw you the same were extremely unlikely— at least that’s what you thought but your luck was about to change.

—

You stood in the corner at a wrap party for the project you’d been working on— you’d helped yourself to more than a few glasses of champagne to keep your nerves at bay. Regardless of how many times you’d been to these types of things it never got any easier to mingle and put yourself out there. 

Thankfully one of your fellow colleagues who you now considered a friend stood with you, laughing and joking about the various things that had gone on during shooting.

“I can’t believe it’s all over.. But I have no regrets.” She chimed in, giving you a slight nudge. “What about you?” 

The champagne was definitely getting to your head and without even thinking you blurted out. “I wish I’d made a move on Hayden— what an absolute daddy.”

You waited for a laugh but it never came, in fact your friends face looked shocked, the colour draining from her face as she gazed over your shoulder— you didn’t get the big deal, you’d both joked about this on multiple occasions and she’d been well aware of your crush.

“What’s wrong I—“ your gaze followed hers and before you could finish your sentence your heart dropped. Standing right behind you, eyes fixed directly on you was none other than your co-star Hayden Christensen. 

From the weird look on Hayden’s face there was no mistaking that he had heard what you’d just said. You felt as if you were going to be sick. “I’m so sorry, excuse me.” Without even waiting for a response you hightailed it out of there, sitting your champagne down on a random table you glided past.

Your only saving grace was that the party just happened to be at a hotel which everyone was staying— you found the nearest elevator and stepped inside. You leant back against the wall, closing your eyes to feel everything spin. You were slightly drunk and embarrassed beyond words. 

You began spiralling into your own thoughts, completely unaware that someone else had entered the elevator until the sound of someone clearing their throat snapped you back into reality— eyes opening to find the last person you wanted to see standing right in front of you and before you could do anything the doors shut. Fuck. 

Hayden stood before you, only a couple of steps away. Staring at you with an unreadable expression. “I just wanted to check you were okay.” His deep, raspy voice filled the elevator, sending chills down your spine. God he was so perfect in the suit he was wearing, with his gorgeous brown locks and blue eyes— you shook your head. 

“I am so sorry—“ You practically squeaked the words out, not even knowing where to begin to try and fix the damage you thought you had done but before you continued you noticed an amused smile forming on Hayden’s lips, a small chuckle leaving him. 

“It’s fine, if anything I’m flattered.” He took a step toward you, you could smell his cologne now, the scent made you want him even closer. “What I want to know is what kind of move you’d make.” 

Was he making fun of you? The smile on his face had turned into more of a smirk— This was different to the kind man you were so used to dealing with on set, this man was making you tremble, in the best way. 

You were unable to respond. Tension was thick in the air, it was beginning to feel like the longest elevator ride of your life until the loudest ‘ding’ had you almost jumping out of your skin. 

Glancing back toward the open elevator doors a sudden look of disappointment took over Hayden’s features. “Some other time.” He turned, stepping out of the elevator and beginning to walk away from you. 

Regret rushed through you, were you really just going to let the opportunity slip through your fingers after you’d been fantasising for a moment like that for months. 

It took all almost everything you had but you followed him out the doors. “Wait— I’ll show you.” Hayden turned toward you and without waiting for him to respond you closed the distance between you, lacing your hands up through his hair, pulling him in for a kiss. 

Maybe it was the champagne but you swear you felt a spark of electricity as your lips connected. It started off so soft and gentle as if he was hesitating to reciprocate but before too long his tongue was gliding against your lower lip, begging for entrance.

Your tongues danced together, his hands quickly finding their way to your lower back, fingertips lightly dancing along the fabric of your dress, the sensation causing a yearning to start between your legs. 

All too soon he pulled away, a look of panic crossing your face before he quickly put your mind at ease. “Not here.” His hand found yours, leading you down the hall toward one of the hotel rooms. 

You took one last look over your shoulder as he swiped his key before walking forward into Hayden’s dimly lit hotel room.

[honk4shelbi]

🙂❤️ Charpim Fic Inspired by my followers !

I call this one.... Burger hot chocolate hands .. .

" Alright, here we are. You sure you don't want me to drop you off closer to your apartment ? " Mr. Boss parks his Ford F150 outside the local Salty's; its concerning this place is still opened after the murder case. Almost as concerning as knowing the Boss has a Ford F150.

Thank god he does though-- or Charlie wouldn't of been able to make it to work today, not during this weather.

" Uh, yea its fine. I'm like, five minutes from here." Charlie steps down from the truck, showing care to grab the assisting handle tightly. The roads, the side walks, the EVERYTHING was covered in a thin sheet of ice. One wrong step and he could eat shit on the pavement. " I haven't been able to get groceries; I'm starving. "

" Alrighty then. Sleep in tomorrow; I think the roads are suppose to be even WORSE so I'm closing up shop. Even I don't want to drive my baby on that. Isn't that right baby girl ? " The Boss proceeds to coddle the dashboard of his truck. Weird.

" Uh-- okaaaay.... Cya man. " " Bye Bye Charlie, Be safe ! "

Charlie couldn't wait to feast on one of his burgers. As he walked home, he scarfed one down entirely. What ? The weather does this to him-- its like.. hibernation or something like that. That's why he bought THREE of them.

After a long, precarious tread to his apartment, Charlie wasted no time curling up on his couch, wrapping himself in his Mr. Frog in Space throw blanket.

Siigghhh.... " Finally I can be warm again; I can't do this cold shit-- "

Suddenly, it goes dark.

" No. Fucking. Way. " The power was out. Of coarse this shitty ass apartment complex couldn't handle one winter storm. " God damnit. " Charlie, given no choice, gives up on watching T.V and instead crawls onto his mattress. There's nothing else to do without power-- he might as well sleep it off and finish the rest of his cold burgers.

The power will surely come on eventually...

Come several hours of shivering in bed, Charlie gives up. " Fuck-- will Pim even be awake at 1 am ? " He reaches over at his phone, which was dangerously only at 12 percent of battery. Have to make this count.

Come on Pim.. I'm counting on you.. He dials Pim's number.

~~~~

" Charlie you should of called me way sooner ! You're freezing ! I can't believe you thought you could sleep with no heat ALL night-- " Pim had to drive slow. VERY slow. His car was nice, but it wasn't meant for this ice. Thankfully, no one else is on the road so he can really pace himself.

" Yea yea yea. " Charlie breathes a fog of warm air into his hands, before holding them up to the heat vents. ".. Thanks Pim. "

Pim nods, " Of coarse. But I don't feel comfortable doing this again tomorrow-- you'll just have to just stay with me until the roads thaw. But I don't mind ! It'll be fun ! We can watch movies, and drink hot chocolate ! "

Charlie's cheeks start to warm up-- both a blessing and a curse in this situation. He just realized how utterly fucked he'd be without Pim right now... it's kind of embarrassing. Almost as embarrassing as how much he was looking forward to spending time with Pim. Damn him and his stupid crush-- " Pim, If you make me hot chocolate I'll be one happy critter . "

" Anything to see you smile." " What ? " " NOTHING. " Pim's cheeks glow red and he remains far more silent the rest of the ride. Looks like Charlie wasn't the only one looking forward to this..

~~~~

Not so surprisingly, Pim's place still had power. Charlie always felt self conscious when he visited Pim's apartment-- Pim is just... so much more put together. His apartment actually WASN'T a piece of shit. But Charlie didn't get to think about that long before Pim started speaking;

" Let me start the hot chocolate-- just make yourself warm. "

Charlie sunk into the couch; just happy to be warm. Then he used a nearby outlet to start charging his phone. As he waited, his mind began to wonder. Was he sleeping on the couch? Of coarse he would.. why wouldn't he ? It would be weird if they slept in Pim's bed together. . . . . .

" Here Charlie ! " " AHH ! "

The smaller critter gasps. " Oh god-- sorry I didn't mean to scare you ! " Pim ditches the mug of cocoa on the table and hops onto the couch; He scoots even closer, so he can pat Charlie's back. He's aware of Charlie's heart problems, so he was genuinely concerned. " I just got excited." He grabs Charlies hand tightly.

Catching his breath, Charlie squeezes the hand, enjoying the warmth of the other. A bit TOO much. " It's fine-- i was just distracted. "

" About what, Charlie, are you alright ? " " Yea I said it's f-- "

Eye contact. They both just realized how close they were sitting to each other. That time they kissed at Salty's replays in both their heads. It's almost as if they both were considering kissing each other in that moment but--

The lights go out.

" Oh no.... "

~~~~

Both tired and defeated, they get ready for bed. " Sorry about this Charlie-- Last year this didn't happen.. guess it really is bad out there. " He says as he turns the living room lamp off so Charlie can sleep more soundly on the couch.

" It's not your fault Pim, don't apologise. I just fucking hate it-- I ain't built for the cold like this. " In fact, his breath was already creating a small fog. He shivers. " Still better inculcated then my place though. "

Pim walks over towards his room, but lingers a moment, not quick to leave. He twirls the point to his sleeping cap. " Well.. Goodnight Charlie.... "

" Night bud. "

... ... ...

" Pim ? " " Yea Charlie ? " " Do you want me to sleep in bed w- "

" YES ! " Thank GOD he asked-- he wanted it SO badly he couldn't stand it. Pim fantasized about sleeping with Charlie ever since he got the call-- hell.. ever since they kissed he's thought about it.

Charlie bites his lip and hesitates; Just enough to build up the nerve to get up and hurry over to Pim. He lifts the smaller critter into his arms and carries him to bed.

They both giggle and immediately lock their bodies together for warmth under the blankets.

" Thanks for answering the phone, dude. " Pim grins and leans in closely. " Call me more often. " He coos before kissing his friend passionately.

They both had wanted this for so long.

~~~

THE END, Thanks for contributing @gaspipegeoff , @cosmo-shell , @onceagwen

If you got this far and like it, then consider supporting my Kofi . I'm planning on continuing this w/ maybe smut involved as a next chapter and posting it on my Kofi for my supporters . Don't worry ill post it here eventually too, but youll get it way earlier there.

[jerzwriter]

Caught in the Act

A ride to a charity function is just a ride to a charity function, right? Not when the couple in question is the insatiable Carricks. See how a misunderstanding led to a fun-filled escapade. 😉

Thank you to the incomparable @/artbyainna (IG) for capturing this as only she can! God, the look of horror on Casey's face juxtaposed with Tobia's proud little smirk! adfdjfdkfdj!!! I live for this and bow at the feet of my queen!❤️

Book: Open Heart (Post Series) Pairing: Tobias Carrick x F!MC (Casey MacTavish Carrick) Rating: Explicit - 18+ Words: 1,389 Warnings: NSFW, sexual content Summary: Above A/N: Participating in @choicesnovchallenge - Day 22 - Go for a Ride (indeed... lol)

The backseat of the stretch limo was peculiarly quiet. Tobias seated at one end of the long seat while Casey sat perched at the other, doing her best to keep her bare back from falling against the cool, black leather. Though their hands met in the middle, fingers lovingly intertwined, their eyes were focused out of their respective windows. For other couples, this all may be normal, but for them, it felt anything but.

Casey sighed softly, hoping the delicate sound would open a window. But Tobias was lost in his own thoughts and hadn't heard a thing, so the silence lingered. He squeezed her hand tightly as he exited his self-imposed fugue, eyes still focused on the window.

"All right, hon," he grumbled softly, "what did I do?"

Casey's neck flung in his direction, her furrowed brow speaking for itself. "Huh? Why do you think you've done something wrong?"

"You haven't said more than a couple words the whole drive. That's unlike you."

"Me? You haven't been chatty either, and look at you... you're still turned away from me... I thought I did something wrong."

"You?" he replied, finally looking her way. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Casey sighed again; this time, it was filled with relief. "I’m sorry if I haven’t been myself tonight. The truth is, I wish we didn’t have to go to this event.”

“You wish?” he chuckled. “Babe, do you think sucking up to a bunch of donors is what I want to do after a long week? Especially with you...” he paused, teeth sinking into his lip as his eyes slowly trailed her body. “With you looking like that.”

“Looking... looking like this?” She blurted. “You haven’t even looked at me since we left home!”

“Of course I haven’t! If I did, I’d be far too tempted to unravel the back of that dress, watch as it fell to your feet, and do what I really want to tonight... which is you... for hours and hours on end.”

His wife blushed, and the car filled with her delighted little giggles. “Well, that’s much better,” she said, patting his knee.

“So,” he smiled lecherously, “How ‘bout it? I can text Ma, tell her we had an emergency... then we can do... our thing.”

“I’d love to,” she said, her hand running down his cheek as she inched closer. “But this fundraiser is for a worthy cause...”

“Yeah,” he lamented. “Ma’s charity helps an awful lot of kids.”

“It does. And face it, we’re both charming as fuck... we’re good at separating rich folk from their money for a good cause... she needs us.”

His eyes gleamed in acknowledgment. “Damn right, she does.”

Resigned, Casey slunk back, no longer concerned about the goosebumps that erupted over her flesh as her warm skin pressed against the icy leather. “Well, let’s look at it this way. We can watch each other in action all night, just imagining what we’ll be doing after. All I’ll be thinking about is how I’m going to have my way with you once we’re back home.”

“Yeah, that sounds fun,” he concurred, fingers running through her hair until he gently grasped it at the nape of her neck. Now, her goosebumps had goosebumps. “Only one problem with that scenario.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?”

“It means waiting hours to have you.”

“It would,” she teased. “So, what do you suggest?”

“I suggest this...”

Without another word, he tugged her in his direction. His lips eagerly fell upon hers as his tongue forced them open for a searing kiss. Her arms wrapped around the back of his neck, and a salacious groan rumbled through her, stoking his desire all the more. His lips pressed harder, a ravenous, breathless kiss as he unlatched his seatbelt.

“Come here,” he gasped, failing to catch his breath.

“There?” Casey asked with a raised brow, her smudged lipstick doing things he couldn't control. She tilted her head toward the front of the limo. “There is a driver there, you know?”

“Of course I do,” he teased. “Come here... live a little.”

“Tobias?” groaned playfully, but he sensed her trepidation.

“You know this isn’t a rental, right? It’s from my family’s fleet.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that divider is truly soundproof... we have total privacy back here.”

Casey glanced at her gold filigree watch. “With no traffic, we should be at the museum in about fifteen minutes.”

“Right. Except there is always traffic in Boston, even if there’s not... I know you’re familiar with the quickie.”

“I am, but... it’s not my favorite way of....”

“Mine either,” he cut her off. “Look, we can still eyefuck all night, dreaming about later... but I might be able to separate rich pricks from their money more easily if I’m a bit... satiated.”

“Hmmm...” she giggled, “so the key to separating rich pricks from their money is satisfying your rich prick before we go in?”

“Baby,” he said, unfastening her seatbelt. “Don’t say go in and expect we’re not doing this.”

Casey hoped the divider was as secure as Tobias had said because a playful holler escaped her as he reached over and pulled her onto his lap. So deftly and with such force, she knew surrender was inescapable. She hissed as his tongue trailed along her skin, from atop her cleavage, up her neck, and settling at her chin. His eyes met hers, an impish grin on his lips. “So, we gonna do this?” he asked as if it were a question.

She had become skilled at removing a bow tie at record speeds, and his was already undone as her fingers made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, her hands eagerly running along the planes of his chest.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he breathed into her ear, his tongue darting out to trace its outer edge, his teeth gripping her lobe with a gruff tug, eliciting a wanton moan as Casey’s hips desperately gyrated against him.

“Undo your pants,” she ordered.

“Gladly,” he smiled as she hiked her skirt.

“We have to make this quick,” she gasped as he lined himself against her soaked center, both groaning in pleasure as she slowly sank down on him.

“Oh, my God...” she panted, his hands holding her waist in place as he thrust deeply inside her. “Oh my... God.”

She could feel the smile on his lips as his tongue trailed over her collarbone, never letting up the pace as red-hot passion left them both forgetting where they were. Tobias’s grunts were met with her unladylike moans. With each one that escaped her, he wanted her even more.

“Quick, you say? You don’t seem to be in much of a rush now.”

With a playful glare, she lifted her hips and slammed down against him as a punishment. One he accepted with delight as his head fell back.

“That’s it, baby,” he moaned. “That’s it, make me pay for being an ass.”

With a giggle, Casey happily complied when a loud click made her head turn in horror. She looked like she had spotted a ghost, but Tobias’s face morphed into a cocky grin.

“You ever hear of knocking first, buddy?" he admonished as their driver stood frozen in horror.

“Oh, I... I’m sorry... I thought you heard me announce that....” he diverted his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry’s nice and all,” Tobias began, “but if you want my forgiveness, close the door and let us finish here.”

Casey turned to him with widened eyes.

“What,” he mocked, “do you want to go inside in this condition?”

“Close the fucking door,” Casey demanded. A loud slam followed, and a grin stretched across Tobias’s face.

“Now, there’s the girl I married.”

“Less talking,” she breathed, her lips enveloping his as she moved quickly against him. “... and more action.”

“I’m all about action,” he chuckled, flipping her onto her back, kissing her long, shapely legs as he wrapped them around his neck. “Let’s finish the job,” he grunted, delighting in the way she unfurled as he thrust inside her. “Then we can go schmooze with smiles on our faces.”

“Ah, fucking for charity,” she panted, her giggles reaching an abrupt halt when he hit that sweet spot. Pleased with himself, he smirked over her.

“You were saying, dear?”

Casey reached behind his neck, gruffly pulling him into a kiss. “Shut up and fuck me, Carrick.”

“With pleasure,” he smiled... wondering if those words would one day grace their headstones.

~~~~~

I imagined they needed a few minutes to look fit for public consumption. But those smiles and their delicately rumpled clothes left little question in the minds of those who knew them best. After emptying donors' pockets, they left the party early... eager to utilize the limo once more before returning home to their little girl. Parenthood was not about to change these two. lol

Thanks for reading!

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @openheartfanart

Tagging others separately.

[rwby-imagines-and-headcanons]

How about Salem x Male Reader NSFW stuff? Salem's been around a long time, I imagine she would like to "experiment" every now and then

Dommy Mommy Salem??? Yes please??

----------

Salem NSFW Headcanons (Male S/O)

You are this woman's toy, her pet. If you are in a relationship it's more genuine, and she will take care of you. But if it's a purely sex exchange situation, you are nothing but a dick to her

Everytime you will be restrained by grimm arms. Even though you are fully willing and have no desire to run, she just likes you being tied up and vulnerable

She will barely touch you, so don't expect any close contact or cuddling. If she isn't fucking you directly with her pussy or ass, the most you're gonna get is her feet

Footjobs are a must for her. It makes her feel powerful seeing you shiver and cum just from her foot, like the disgusting degenerate you are

Nearly the whole time she will just tease you and edge you over and over. You will be begging for release, and she just smile and quietly shake her head

Uses her Grimm arms to grope and fuck you. Rubbing your nipples, stroking your cock, fingering your ass, etc. They will take over your whole body, even having a few Grimm fingers opening your mouth wide open, drool shamefully rolling down your face

If she is feeling especially kinky and horny, she'll bring in a Grimm creature and watch it fuck you. This is one of the few times you see her openly show lust, with her openly fingering herself as she watches you get pounded relentlessly

After torturing you for a long while, if you haven't fainted, she will reward you with her body. And if you did an especially good job, you can even choose ass or pussy

The moment your dick enters her you feel a slight burning sensation. Her pure Grimm energy reacts with your mortal flesh, but it strangely feels good? You can't describe it, all you know is you can't get enough of it

Her hips aggressively yet elegantly grind against you, Salem reveling in every groan and moan that comes from your mouth. She finds it so adorable how turned on you get with every buck and movement she does

Salem likes to switch positions throughout. Her on top, you upside down, your body will be kinda thrown around like a ragdoll. One of her special techniques is sitting in her throne naked, and using the Grimm arms to physically pump you in and out of her while she just leans back

It does NOT matter how many times you cum, you ain't stopping until she says so. She's been around a looooooong time, it takes time and effort to get her to climax

When Salem cums it is intense. You feel her body quiver and quake, her holes tightening around your dick in a chokehold. Her moans shake the whole building, the glass in the windows threatening to shatter. She will suck the god damn life outta ya the whole time until she's finished

Once she finishes, you're finally set free from your bindings. She will quietly clean herself off and recompose herself. If it's just a transaction she will make you clean up yourself and send you away. But if you are in a relationship, Salem will show a rare sign of compassion, and will clean you up herself and help you get dressed. If you're fainted she'll even lay you in your bed

After every session, she will rate you on your performance. Her ratings are fair and precise, and usually you get top marks! You are her favorite toy of course, she knows how to pick well. If you do happen to get a low mark though, you will be in for a ride your next session~

----------

This was so fun to write oh my god. I hope this is as hot to you guys as it is to me lol!

[banannabethchase]

I just think. Adam deserves to have someone titfuck him. (challenge mode: not mox. in fact, double challenge mode: someone completely new!)

A Cowboy to Ride - also on AO3

~

Matt's obsessed with Adam's chest, and he's incorrigible about it. Luckily, Adam is happy to indulge.

~

*sighs* Sarah what have you done to me with this prompt. I achieved the single challenge but not the double.

~

Adam should have learned by now, after all this time, that Matt can’t control himself.

“Locker room,” he mutters under his breath, grabbing at Adam’s wrist. “Now.”

“Fuckin’ hell, baby, tone it down,” Adam murmurs, sliding a hand into the back pocket of Matt’s jeans. “We’re still in public, you know.”

Matt licks his lips as he stares at Adam’s chest. “But – you look good.”

“And you need to keep it for the bedroom.” Adam leans in and presses a kiss to Matt’s forehead, though, because he can’t resist.

Matt lets out a mildly panicked whine and yanks Adam harder. “Don’t make me wait like last time,” he pleads, but there’s a smile behind it.

“Do you want me to make you wait?” Adam asks, in his ear. “Do you want me to work you up so you go to everyone in this place for just a little attention because you can’t get what you really want?”

Matt’s considering it, and Adam thinks he’s in for a hell of a night, when he’s interrupted before Matt can even speak.

“Matt!” Tony yells. “I need your help – Jerry had to step out so I need somebody else up here.”

Matt lets out a weird little panicked whimper, looking from Tony to Hangman. “But I –”

“Go do your EVP shit, Matty.” He leans in and whispers in Matt’s ear. “We can do cowboy shit later.”

Matt giggles and turns a little pink. “Okay,” he half whispers. ���I – okay.”

Adam walks backstage, shaking out his shoulders as he shoots smiles at some of the friendlier guys backstage.

“Hanger!” Nick says, catching up with him. “You okay? Swerve and Cage are the worst.”

Adam shrugs, still high on adrenaline and Matt’s attention. “I’m good. Dealt with worse guys, right?”

Nick looks at him funny. “I mean, yes, but a post-match beatdown never feels good, you know?” Nick studies him for another moment until it seems to dawn on him. “Oh, god, you and Matt are doing a thing again, aren’t you.”

“I – what?” Adam searches his mind for when he could have been that transparent in this three second conversation. “No we’re not.”

Nick sighs. “God, you guys are so obvious. Sometimes I wonder if my life was easier when – ” He stops himself. “Well, okay, it wasn’t.”

“Nah, you’re right,” Adam says, and he’s surprised he’s still riding the earlier high. “Your best friend and your brother fucking across the country can’t be all that fun for you.”

Nick groans. “Please – don’t make me relive the shit you did back in New Japan and Ring of Honor back in the day.” Adam’s grin gets wider, and Nick winces. “Oh. Well. Damn it.” He laughs, a little panicked. “As long as the two of you are happy, I guess. But I do hate it. I need you both to know I hate,” he gestures weirdly in the air, “this. The vibes or whatever, when you do whatever this is.”

“And I’m sure we both hate your dancing, but here we are.”

Nick frowns. “My dancing is entertaining and everyone should be into it.”

“Entertaining does not mean good,” Adam says, nudging Nick with his shoulder.

“Exactly. I didn’t say good. It was fun. Maybe I’ll join Dancing with the Stars next season or something.”

“Please do,” Adam says, clapping Nick on the arm. “I’m always a fan of comedy.”

“Eff you!” Nick says, grin widening. “Alright, man, I gotta get to the locker room – we had to rearrange the card for Rampage and I’m the lucky person to go tell people.”

Adam nods. “Good luck, man. Don’t get yelled at.”

“I’ll do what I can.” Nick turns to leave, then comes back for a hug so quick Adam can’t even react. “Love you, man. Even when you and Matt are weird.”

Adam wants to hug him back, to tell Nick that he feels the same way, but Nick’s out of there before Adam can even open his mouth.

He gets back to the hotel on his own after a text from Matt and another from Nick. Matt’s I have to stay late I’ll see you later at the hotel <;3 has Adam a little worried, but Nick immediately texted after to say I’ll keep him from doing anything stupid, so Adam was able to relax.

Adam debates getting himself off to a few of the videos they made back in Ring of Honor, but he decides to keep it in his pants until Matt gets here. He can wait.

He flips through the channels absently, checking his phone more often than he probably should, until he gets the text from Matt at 11:14pm.

On my way back &lt;3

Adam grins. Matt’ll be off his rocker with the need to blow off steam with he gets to the room, and Adam can’t wait.

He makes sure the room is presentable – underwear in his luggage, the takeout from last night in the trash, all that – and he’s just finished when the door unlocks and swings open.

“Hi!” Matt says. “Oh, my god, the traffic was insane.”

“You walked across the street!”

“The foot traffic and the car traffic came together to make my life stupid,” Matt explains. “Plus, my backpack is heavy.” He looks over at Adam.

“You have four steps to walk,” Adam laughs, but he grabs the backpack anyway and drops it on the chair. “C’mere.”

Matt hits Adam like a brick wall into a vicelike hug. “Hi,” he says, face muffled in Adam’s chest. “This is kind of nice, actually.” He pulls back. “Can you get naked now?”

“What a line,” Adam says, shaking his head. “Romance really does die.”

“It – no it doesn’t!” Matt says. He plays with the hem of Adam’s shirt, bites his lip a little. He leans in, pulling the collar of Adam’s tee down, tracing his collarbone.  “It’s just, you – you looked so good,” Matt says, open mouth moving along Adam’s collarbone. “You looked so good.”

Adam laughs, settling his hands on Matt’s hip, fingertips sliding under that pretty shirt of his. “You look good too, baby.” He pulls back. “Real good. You know I like the half up hair thing.”

Matt’s eyes scatter away, a pleased smile on his lips. “I know,” he says. “But, um.” He slides his hands up Adam’s chest, nails gently pressing into the skin of his pecs. “You look good. Like, your chest.” Matt clears his throat. “God. You – wow.”

Adam laughs. “What, you got a thing for big tits or something?” He means it as a joke, kind of, because it’s such a weird word, but Matt goes bright red. “Oh. Oh, you do.” Adam huffs out a laugh. “Sit down, baby. You want a show? I can give you a show.”

Matt sits down on the bed so fast he bounces, legs folded under him as he drops his hands in his lap. “I wanna see,” he near whispers. “I – yeah.”

After all of Swerve’s shit talking the week before, the look on Matt’s face as Adam plays with the hem of his shirt, the way he whimpers at the barest hint of skin, makes Adam feel like he could rule the world.

“Too slow,” Matt says, eyes locked on Adam’s fingertips as they tease at pulling it up. “Go faster.”

“Oh, you’re being demanding now?” Adam asks, dropping the shirt. He steps into Matt’s space, grinning at the way Matt cranes his head up to see him. “You wanna have control, by all means, take it.”

Matt bats his eyelashes, looking up. “I could,” he murmurs. “I do the top thing.”

Adam leans down, presses a kiss to Matt’s forehead. “Sure you could, baby.”

Matt pushes at Adam’s chest. “Go – get naked. I wanna see.”

“You want a strip tease?”

Matt shrugs. “If that’s what gets you naked, okay.”

There’s a part of Adam that’s always been a bit of a performer. He likes the attention and putting on a show, likes to be a bigger version of himself. But he’s never a better performer than when his audience is Matt.

“Higher,” Matt murmers, the request almost a question. “Please?”

“You sure?” Adam asks, only his eyes peeking out over his shirt. Matt’s eyes are glued to his stomach, slowly crawling up his body.

Matt’s eyes snap up to Adam’s. “Are you kidding? Yes, I’m sure. Take off your shirt.”

Laughing, Adam slowly drags the shirt over his body. He thinks he can feel Matt’s eyes burning like a laser into his skin, and finds himself wishing the touch were real.

“Screw it,” he mutters, and he rips off the shirt and throws it somewhere in the room, diving at Matt to catch his lips with his own. Matt lets out a cute little squeal of excitement as Adam drapes himself over Matt’s body.

Matt is shameless as he runs his hands over Adam’s skin, grabbing and touching and squeezing. “You’re so – I don’t – come back.” He doesn’t seem to be able to string a sentence together, so focused on Adam, and it’s the kind of ego boost Adam might not need.

Adam slides his lips down to Matt’s neck. “And here I was,” he laughs, in between kisses, “thinking you were getting tired of me now that I’m older.”

“Are you kidding me?” Matt asks. He’s trying to pipe through some of his usual attitude, but the breathy desperation makes it fail. “You look, somehow, even better.” His breath catches as Adam bites at his collarbone. “Like – I like the scars. A lot.” Matt’s fingers trace a few from barbed wire against his forehead, eyes locked on the spot. “You should do more death matches. I like this.”

“You just want me all beat up and bloody.” Adam props himself up on his elbows to press a kiss to Matt’s nose.

“Not – well, okay, that’s not all of it.” Matt’s cheeks turn pink. “I mean, like, you know how good you look when you get all wild eyed, and you look so pretty when your hair goes all pink – don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m not laughing at you!” Adam says, doing a terrible job of stifling the chuckles.

“You – go back.” Matt pouts, but Adam’s pretty sure it’s an attempt to be firm. “I wanna see you.”

Adam’s still laughing as he leans back on his knees, and he watches Matt’s eyes light up. “What?”

“When you laugh, your pecs – bounce.” Matt’s tone is almost reverent. “Do – I can’t think of anything funny. What’s funny?”

“Monkeys on unicycles?”

“In theory, that’s funny, but I need something that will actually make you laugh!” Matt huffs. “Okay, remember that time we were in the gym and you and Kenny were trying to actually wrestle and –”

Adam can’t help it; he laughs so hard he throws his head back. “Oh, fuck, and Kenny slipped on his shirt and fell with his ass in the air? And you texted a picture to Kota?”

“Yeah,” Matt murmurs, not laughing at all. “Oh, my god. You – get over here.” Adam barely gets his eyes open before Matt’s leaned up and biting at his pec.

“Oh, hi,” Adam says, swallowing. “Jesus, you’re like a lamprey.”

“A what?”

“A fish that – never mind,” Adam says. “Fuck. Usually I do this to you.”

“And now it’s your turn,” Matt says. “Now shut up and lie down so I can get my hands on your chest.”

Adam does as he’s told, because he can indulge Matt from time to time, and Matt goes at him again like a madman. Adam slides his hand onto Matt’s hair, fingers tangling. “You’re determined today,” he exhales. “Jesus. I’m gonna be covered.”

Matt pulls his head up, quirking an eyebrow. “No worse than what you do to me, like, nightly.”

“Yes, but you’re used to it,” Adam says, with a little tug to Matt’s hair. “I’m not used to you being all, well, dominant is absolutely the wrong word.”

“Is not!”

“Really,” Adam deadpans. “Calling you dominant is a totally normal, accurate statement. You’re pouting right now.”

“I – tops can pout!”

“Not like that they can’t.” Adam can’t resist pulling Matt in by the hair and tasting the pout on his lips. Matt scrambles on his lap, shoving Adam back onto the bed. His fingertips tweak Adam’s nipples, grab at his skin, massage his muscles, and fuck if it isn’t great. Matt’s doing his best to control the kiss, but he’s hesitant at times, unsure, and Adam fills in where Matt can’t figure it out.

“Tell you what,” Adam says, pulling back as he cants his hips up to meet Matt’s ass. “You ride me tonight, tell me what to do. It’s all about you, baby.”

“Okay,” Matt says, even pinker than before. “I – I can do that. But it’s always all about me.”

“That is not what a top would say.”

Matt opens his mouth to argue. Then, like he’s just lost an argument with himself in his head, huffs and swings a leg off of Adam’s hips and goes to his bags in the corner of the room. “I’ll have you know,” he says, digging around. Adam’s a little disappointed he’s still mostly clothed. The view would be outstanding. At the thought, he undoes his belt and shoves his pants and boxers down his hips to drop them to the side of the bed, wrapping a hand around his cock for the hint of relief. Matt’s still talking as he searches, and Adam can’t focus on it. “And that was twice, and since one of those times was in a match, I think that counts double.”

“You getting on top of someone during a match and pinning them to the ground doesn’t count as being a top,” Adam says. “You forget the lube? I’m not going out to CVS this time.”

“You would if you really loved – oh, found it!” Matt turns around, twirling the bottle in his hands. “Oh. Hello.”

“Hey,” Adam says with a lazy smile, hand still around his cock. “Somebody order a cowboy to ride?”

“That’s not even funny anymore,” Matt says with a smile. He strips out of his clothes at lightning speed and dives back on top of Adam, squeezing at his pecs. “God, you’re hot.”

“You, too.” Adam gets two handfuls of Matt’s ass and squeezes, grinning at the way Matt’s eyes flutter closed and his mouth drops open. “Pretty tits, too.” He leans in and wraps his lips around a nipple. Matt whimpers.

“I – I want to –” he stops speaking when Adam pulls away, grinning up at him. “I – oh my god, what?”

“What what?”

“I don’t know what to do!” Matt wails. “I just want you to fuck me but I don’t – please?” He bats his eyelashes. “Being a top is too much work. Can you just fuck me and make me cry about it?”

“Of course, baby,” Adam murmurs. He reaches out and brushes some hair from Matt’s pouting face. “Anything you want. All about you, right?”

Matt keeps the pout at a thousand as he nods. “I love you,” and it’s impressive he gets the words out with how stuck out that bottom lip is.

“I love you, too.”

Adam grins at him as he drips the lube over his fingers, probably too much, but Matt’s wide eyes as he watches are so damned pretty he can’t stop the show.

“Now, please,” Matt whispers. “I – please don’t make me wait like last time.”

“Oh, you remember last time?” Adam says, sliding his finger between Matt’s cheeks, watching his eyes flutter closed. Matt leans forward, ass in the air, like he’s desperately waiting, but all Adam does is trace the rim of his hole. “You got so needy for it you started hitting on the whole roster.”

Matt’s breathing picks up. “Only ‘cause you were doing one of your stupid experiments.”

“Maybe this is one, too,” Adam says. “Maybe I made sure to get my tits all pumped up just to get you riled up.”

Matt leans back, like he’s trying to coax Adam’s finger inside of him. “Sure, whatever, just – please?” He turns those eyes on Adam.

“Only because you asked all nice,” Adam says, like it’s a chore to give Matt exactly what he wants, like he’s not just as impatient for it as Matt. He just hides it better. He works a finger in, grinning at the noises Matt makes, then a second, then a third, all while Matt pushes his hips down. “You really are desperate for it, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am!” Matt snaps. His eyes widen. “Sorry. I just –”

“Nah,” Adam says, grazing Matt’s prostate with his fingers once before pulling them out. Matt makes the weirdest combination of sounds, akin to a frustrated cat, and Adam has to resist the urge to laugh. “Don’t apologize. I like when you get bitchy.” He drips more lube on his hand and coats his entire cock, Matt’s eyes on him the whole time.

Matt goes easily when Adam grabs his hips and moves him backward. Matt tries to shove himself down on Adam’s cock, but Adam stops him.

“Slow down, baby, don’t hurt yourself.”

Matt pouts. “But I want it.”

“Fuck, you’re insufferable.” Adam guides him down, his own vision going white at the feeling of Matt all around him. “And perfect, goddamn.”

Matt giggles, hips rocking. “I – oh, yes – know that, thank you.”

“This is why you can’t be a top.” Adam rocks his hips up, trying to screenshot the look of Matt’s bliss in his mind. “Tops don’t talk about how perfect they are all the time.”

“They can,” Matt replies. He pulls up on his knees, Adam’s dick slipping out of him entirely, before carefully sliding back down. It’s almost more than Adam can handle, the feeling of it all, and he finds himself weirdly worshipful of the moment. He thought for so long this was gone, but it’s all here in front of him right now.

He’ll never stop beating himself up over all the years they lost.

Matt still, like back in the day, makes the prettiest little noises as they slowly rock against each other, as their bodies slide and move and connect. Matt smiles down at him, his hair falling like a curtain, as Adam keeps his hands on Matt’s hips to guide him, move him. He moves a hand and slides it into Matt’s hair, pulling him down for a kiss.

Matt hums against his lips, hands braced on either side of Adam’s head as he rocks, breathing heavily. “Adam,” he says in almost a whisper.

“I know, baby,” Adam says back, their foreheads pressed together. “I love you, too.”

He’s not paying attention, is his mistake. He’s focused on Matt, on how he feels and how he looks and how he sounds, on the perfect slide, of the warmth of Matt around him. He’s not trying to keep himself together.

“Matt,” he chokes out, before he can figure out how to stop it. “Oh, god. I – Matt.” He groans and comes, deep within Matt, his mind whiting out for anything that isn’t the man he loves, the world swirling around him and settling into a feeling of utmost satisfaction. “Matt,” he whispers again as he comes back to earth.

Matt is still rolling against Adam’s cock, and its getting to be too much too fast too –

“Matt,” Adam gasps, “Matt, I have to –” He tilts his hips, sliding out of Matt, who whimpers.

“I didn’t get to come,” Matt says, pouting. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” Adam says. “Oh, my god, no, Matty, I just got super into it and you.” He thinks, desperate to get that disappointed look off of Matt’s face. And it hits him. “Oh. Matt, I – do you want to fuck my tits?”

Matt blinks at him. “What?”

Adam shuffles so he’s better propped on the pillows and moves his arms to his sides. He looks down, and his chest really does look big like this. “See?” he says. He reaches his arms out and grabs Matt’s hips, pulling him closer. “Go for it. I know how much you like them.”

Matt bites his lip, hesitant, like he’s not sure how to do it.

“I’ll help you,” Adam says, stroking the soft skin of Matt’s thighs. “Come on, baby, try it.” He grins up at Matt. “You want to see about being a top, right?”

Matt’s hesitance disappears. “Okay,” he says, almost like he’s convincing himself. “Yeah, okay.” He leans down and braces his hips on either side of Adam’s ribcage and slots his dick in the valley of Adam’s chest. “Wow,” Matt says, and he’s able to slide okay even without any lube, he’s leaking so much. “Oh, wow, Adam, this is…” He trails off, staring at his dick as it moves. He reaches down and grabs handfuls of Adam’s chest, pushing his tits together, and moves his hips.

It takes a second, but Adam realizes the wetness pooling on his belly is – oh, god. His own come is leaking out of Matt, getting all over the two of them. Adam’s head is spinning with all of it – Matt’s focus, his little noises, the slick sounds, the way Adam’s nails bite into Matt’s thighs.

“Adam, can I?” Matt asks, breathing raggedly. “I’m so – I’m gonna –”

“Do it, baby,” Adam says, and he works on a hunch. “Get us all messy.”

Matt’s last sound is a desperate little whimper, something from the back of his throat as he splays one hand in the mess behind him and pushes one more time. Adam’s never had somebody come on his chest before. On his face, sure, but this is new. It’s warm and wet and all Matt, and he feels claimed. Permanent.

“Oh, my god,” Matt pants, eyes a little wild. “You – it’s all over you.”

Adam laughs. He shakes his hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, baby, that’s kind of the point.”

“I’m usually…”

“On the other end of things?” Adam fights the urge to laugh again.

Matt huffs. “Well, yes, but still. I didn’t know…” He runs his fingertips through the mess on Adam’s chest and neck. “I don’t want to do it all the time, but I liked it.”

“I’m glad,” Adam says, and he reaches up and twirls a lock of Matt’s hair around his finger. “Figured you might like to have a moment with these.” He makes his pecs bounce, and Matt’s eyes lock on them. “You like that?”

“You know I do. Shut up.” Matt’s smiling, though. “I don’t think I could do this every time, though. I like – I like it when you’re in charge, mostly.”

“I know, but we can change things up.” Adam winks. “Though I’ll never get tired of fucking you up against the wall.”

Matt’s giggle is a little panicked. “Um. Good. Good, because I won’t get tired of it, either.” He rests his hands on Adam’s chest again, face wrinkling. It only gets more distinct as he wiggles. “Okay, so, it was super hot or whatever, but now I feel gross and sticky.” He rolls off of Adam at an angle so weird he can only be avoiding dirtying the sheets.

“Shower?” Adam asks. He’s got come in his hair, somehow. He hadn’t realized Matt’s aim had been that terrible.

Matt stands, hips shifting. Adam almost managed to get hard again from the shining wetness all over his ass and thighs. “Shower.”

~

Mini Playlist:

Me & U - Cassie

Strip Tease - Danity Kane

Keep Riding Me - ur pretty

Do Me - Kim Petras

[theotheradversary]

So. I want to talk about Demons hell(s) in our reality. It feels that there's not much to talk about in the Ghost Project universe. It's pretty much the one and only Lucifer, The Morning Star. No one else. Sad....

So. From here on out. I'm gonna rant about Demonology, The Bibles, what was cut from it over the years and other such bizarre things around the Judeo-Christian religions. I'll try to ignore anything younger than the 1500s... But even then.

And we're cannot talk Demonology or Angels without talking about "the Keys"... yes. I said Keys. The Solomons stuff is a bit murky with text lost to time, fire or flat out retconned. Plus a lot of stuff has been scattered across the world into rich folks personal collections. Even the text (we think they're the oldest) at the English museum had bits ignored. Blame the Puritan silliness back then. Then there's Angels and their mythos. Not to mention the eternal war.

Let me tell you, the little I actually know it's pretty gods damned fucked up.

But I'll still do some Ghost stuff, because it's just fun fluffy humans==good, women==good, men==good. I have a thing i want to do about The Ghost Project. So that'll be going on in the background until I'm ready to sperg out on anyone that reads my nonsense.

Well... All of this blog will be me sperging out. So. Buckle up! We're in for a fun ride! Little bits to start off with as life is life, but I'll do big write-ups with images and everything when life has settled.

That's it for today. I have something i need to finish... So I'll be awol for at least a few days. Or a week if i decide to do a big write-up. But I'll let everyone that bothers know what's up if it comes to that

We'll see how focused i get in this potential fascinating fixation.

[exololyunho]

ateez sexy would you rather

so no one asked me to do this but school has been kicking my ass and I haven't written anything in a while so I figured I'd do this and see if it gave me some inspiration

there's not too much smut, but it's my horny thoughts and probably too much information about my preferences but oh well

1. make out with Yeosang or dry hump Yunho?

Dry hump Yunho. No question. I want that man over me, so desperate he can’t even wait until our clothes come off. One of my friends teases me about my size kink and it’s true. I want to be buried under him.

2. Give Mingi a lap dance or have Wooyoung do a sexy dance for you?

Idk but I’m leaning towards giving Mingi a lap dance even though I’ve got no experience. I do love shaking my ass at parties though so I think I could figure it out. Plus, watching him get hard, blushing and panting would be so hot.

3. Tease San under the table at dinner or Jongho tease you under the table?

Jongho teasing would be so hot. He acts like such a little shit sometimes and I think that would add the experience. Alternatively, putting your hand on San’s thigh and sliding it up slowly to rub him over his pants while he tries to stay calm would be so exhilarating.

4. Give hickeys to Yeosang or get hickeys from Seonghwa?

I’d rather get hickeys from Seonghwa. I love hickeys, they're so fun and I love when someone’s got their mouth on my neck. Ugh it’s so hot.

5. praise Hongjoong or receive body worship from Yunho?

Ok for any of these questions that have Yunho in them, I’m probably going to pick him. I’d let that man do anything to me and body worship would absolutely blow my mind. God I can just imagine him kissing my tattoos and moles and all the sweet things he’d say. Fuck. 

6. blindfold Mingi or be blindfolded by San?

While I am a sucker for tall men, I have to pick San here. I think he’d be such a passionate man in bed and not knowing what he was going to do next would absolutely kill me in the best way. With every touch a surprise, it wouldn’t take long for me to lose my mind.

7. sexting with Wooyoung or sending dirty snaps to Seonghwa?

I do not like sending nudes, but sexting in the right scenario is so hot. I’d love to read every dirty thing Wooyoung wants to do to me and tell him exactly what I want to do to him.

8. choke Yeosang or be choked by Jongho?

Easy. I want Jongho to choke me. I damn near lost my mind when I found out his grip strength was nearly 200 lbs. I can just imagine the head rush when he cuts off my bloodflow, the overload of sensations and the dizzy feeling of his hands on me.

9. pull Hongjoong’s hair or Yunho pull your hair?

Again, Yunho. I love it when someone pulls my hair, especially when we’re making out. And his hands are so fucking big. Ugh I want it so bad. 

10. tie up Wooyoung or Jongho tie you up?

Ok this is a close one, but I tend to be more submissive/not take the lead in bed. Tying up Wooyoung would be so hot and I can just imagine him begging, but the idea of Jongho having complete control over me is too good to pass up.

11. beg for Seonghwa or Mingi beg for you?

I think this is one time when I’d like to be in control. Having Mingi begging to cum, to touch me, to do anything would be so hot. Having that control over his pleasure would just be so intoxicating.

12. ride Jongho’s thigh or sit on San’s face?

Ok I am not a little girl and face sitting makes me so anxious, but that’s not the only reason I’d rather ride Jongho’s thigh. His legs are so muscular and imagining straddling his thigh while he guides me along is so fucking hot. Making me cum on his thigh before he’d do anything else is just so fucking hot.

13. dirty talk with Seonghwa or Mingi?

I would say that I’d rather have sex with Mingi over Seonghwa, but it’s so much easier and so much hotter to imagine Seonghwa talking down to me, saying the filthiest things he can come up with.

14. spank Wooyoung or Hongjoong? 

Wooyoung. No question he’d be into it and it would be so hot, having him begging for more and whimpering with every hit.

15. get spanked by Jongho or Yunho?

Fuck I don’t know man. Both? I mean, regardless of who it is, I wouldn't be able to sit for a week. Jongho’s just so strong and his hits would burn perfectly while Yunho’s big ass hands would cover so much area and feel so good.

16. deny San his orgasm or Seonghwa deny you yours?

I’m going to go with Seonghwa as long as he would let me cum eventually. It’s hard for me to finish with partners and if he could get me there eventually I’d be game. Plus I think he’d be so wonderfully mean it would be so hot.

17. have Yeosang as a master or Hongjoong as a pet?

Like I said, I don’t like taking the lead and honestly the perfect solution would be to have Yeosang tell me what to do and when to do it. I also think he’d be so good at it. Just ordering me around like his little plaything and doing as he pleases.

18. touch yourself and make Yunho watch or Mingi touch himself and make you watch? 

I get shy and as much as I want to pick Yunho, I want to watch Mingi do his thing. His head thrown back as he strokes himself and whines for me, begging for more than just his hand.

19. call Hongjoong ‘daddy’ or Seonghwa call you ‘mommy’?

Mommy gives me the ick. And I think Hongjoong would get off on being called ‘daddy’. Like I think he’d groan everytime you said it. I think that would be his preferred name in bed as opposed to like ‘sir’ or ‘master’.

20. receive aftercare from San or give aftercare to Wooyoung?

I would rather receive aftercare from San after he completely ruins me. San to me seems like his stamina would be absolutely ridiculous, round after round, leaving my legs feeling like jelly and nearly unusable.

21. skype sex with Hongjoong or phone sex with Yeosang?

PHONE SEX. I want to hear Yeosang’s heavy breaths and moans in my ear as he touches himself.

22. one night stand with Mingi or friends with benefits with Wooyoung? 

Oh that’s tough. I think one night stand with Mingi. I’ve had one night stands turn into friends with benefits and that would be ideal, but even if it was just one night, I’d love for Mingi to just fuck me dumb, ruining me for anyone else.

23. studio sex with Hongjoong or practice room sex with Yunho? 

As tempting as studio sex is, I pick practice room sex. Ideally, after watching Yunho rehearse maybe ‘Deja Vu’. Practice room sex just feels so desperate and risky, plus all the mirrors would be such a fun little treat.

24. receive nudes from Seonghwa or a sexy video from San?

I am not a fan of seeing penises. So I’ll say both and neither. If the nudes from Seonghwa were of like his bulge in sweatpants or of his torso then I’m in. And if the video from San was like him touching himself over pants or underwear and like groaning them I’m also in.

25. cowgirl position with Jongho or doggystyle position with Yeosang? 

Doggystyle. I love doggy and I think Yeosang would be great. Strong arms holding me, pulling me back on his dick and fucking the shit out of me. 

26. hot tub sex with Mingi or shower sex with Yunho?

As hot as hot tub sex sounds, all I can think about is all the bacteria in that water. Plus shower sex with Yunho feels so indulgent. Especially if it’s to get clean after a round of sex and he just can’t help but be ready to go again.

27. give oral to Yeosang or receive oral from San? 

I love receiving oral. I reciprocate but when given the option, I’d rather receive because I have a bad gag reflex lol. I think San would be such a messy and enthusiastic eater. Just burying his face between my thighs and not letting up until I’m absolutely shaking.

28. Seonghwa cum in your mouth or Wooyoung cum on your face?

I’m a spitter, I don’t swallow lol but I’d rather Seonghwa cum in my mouth. One, it’s really hot to make your partner cum, and two, cum is messy and the last thing I want is cum in my hair.

29. car sex with San or sex under the stars with Yeosang?

I actually thoroughly enjoy car sex. Some of the best sex I've ever had has been in my car. I also think it’s hot. There’s always the threat of being caught and it forces you to be close to your partner at all times. I think San would be creative, trying as many positions as he could while in such a confined space.

30. take Mingi’s virginity or Yunho take yours?

If I was a virgin, I would absolutely let Yunho take my virginity. I just think he’d be so sweet, insisting on giving me all the pleasure he could while also just manhandling me. I almost think he’d get off on having an inexperienced partner.

31. library sex with Wooyoung or movie theatre handjob with Yeosang? 

Movie theater hand job. Like I said, I don’t like being in charge, but there’s something just so intoxicating about tearing your partner to pieces when they’re at your mercy. Yeosang trying to keep quiet while you’re stroking him, teasing him the whole duration of the movie and finally letting him cum during the climax.

32. lazy morning sex with Yunho or late night sex with Jongho?

I vote lazy morning sex. Waking up tangled together and him needing me. It’s soft, it’s intimate, it’s sweet, the fluffiest sex ever.

33. wear a collar for Seonghwa or San wear a collar for you?

Put me in a collar. I like choking and I think Seonghwa would take full advantage of that. Just talking down to me, tugging on the collar, and doing whatever he pleased.

34. rough sex with Hongjoong or romantic sex with Jongho? 

Rough sex with Hongjoong would be fantastic. I’m taller than him and I just want him to climb me like a tree and just do whatever he wants with me. Bonus points if it’s rough because he’s angry.

35. receive anal from Seonghwa or give anal to Mingi?

I have never done or given anal, but I think I’d be more comfortable receiving from Seonghwa. I think he’d be the perfect mix of soft and caring but still firm and just rough enough.

36. suck on Yunho’s fingers or San suck on your fingers? 

I’ll suck on Yunho’s fingers any day of the week. His hands are so big and I would just love to have those fingers in my mouth. Looking up at him as I suck on them, fuck.

38. Hongjoong finger you or give Yeosang a handjob? 

I love getting fingered it’s so good, especially when they know what they’re doing and I definitely think Hongjoong would know what he’s doing. I think that man could have anyone coming in minutes.

37. wall sex with Jongho or mirror sex with Wooyoung? 

Wall sex. I want to see Jongho’s muscles flexing as he holds me up. Just fucking smashing me into the wall as he has his way with me.

39. overstimulate Mingi or be overstimulated by Wooyoung? 

Some part of me really wants to see Mingi cry for me. Just begging as he’s forced to cum until he can’t.

40. Woosan threesome or Seongjoong threesome?

Woosan definitely. I want the two biggest teases to smash me between them. I think it would probably be the most fun threesome ever.

[s0lemnhypn0s]

So like, I'm insane, so let me share some songs I think are very Crochawk

-Smooth by Santana

"And if you said this life ain't good enough // I would give my world to lift you up // I could change my life to better suit your mood // Because you're so smooth // And it's just like the ocean under the moon // Oh, it's the same as the emotion that I get from you // You got the kind of lovin' that can be so smooth, yeah // Give me your heart, make it real, or else forget about it"

-Your body, my temple by Will Wood

"Amen, I'm only a man // Howling at your face in the moon // Hot damn! But no holy man, kneeling in the stained-glass tomb // As all hell breaks loose, as all hells always do // Oh, what the hell can I do // To have a little more heaven with you? // Hot damn, you are a part of my plan // Cataclysmic Catechism catch-22 // Your body, my temple, baby // Your body, my temple // So, when the cattle fall dead and the waters run red // I'll be your lamb's blood on the wall // God isn't dead, but that's exactly what I've been dreading // After all the meek inherited fuck all // If you help those who help themselves // My superstitions, your visage, my visions // Your body, my temple, baby // Your body, my temple"

-Sex dwarf by Soft cell

"Isn't it nice, sugar and spice // Luring disco dollies to a life of vice // I can make a film and make you my star // You'd be a natural the way you are // I would like you on a long black leash // I would parade you down the High Street // You've got the attraction // You've got the pulling power // Walk my little doggie, walk my little sex dwarf (here doggie, doggie!) // We can make a scene, we'll be a team // Making the headlines sounds like a dream // When we hit the floor you just watch them move aside // We will take them for a ride of rides"

-Paralyzer by Finger eleven

"I hold out for one more drink, before I think // I'm lookin' too desperately // But so far has not been fun, I should just stay home // If one thing really means one // This club will hopefully be closed in three weeks // That would be cool with me // Well, I'm still imagining a dark lit place // Or your place or my place // Well, I'm not paralyzed, but I seem to be struck by you // I wanna make you move because you're standin' still // If your body matches what your eyes can do // You'll probably move right through me on my way to you"

-To err is human so don't be one by Will wood

"Mm, I could take your life, if you're done with it, sweetheart // You still picking at that? only ate the good parts // Hey, whatever works, I'm a cheap date (Check please!) // Falling off the bone, I'm awful glad we met // We only ever notice what's in front of us // Read over my shoulder, breathing down my neck // Are we on the same page yet, I'm getting old here! // Come on don't you get it? What the heck? // Oh, I could drink your blood if you let me, baby // Drain you o' your love until you hate me // Yes, to err is human, so don't be one // This was a mistake, I'll take my leave // But, before I go, let me know if you see // A little black bag with a toe tag please // If you don't hate me, then reanimate me // Prove it to me baby, lightning in my veins // These instincts I've managed to stave mean // Monsters must be people too, so oh geez! // Oh, I could drink your blood if you let me, baby // Drain you o' your love until you hate me // I will drink your blood 'till your lips turn blue // Drain you o' your love, if you want me to"

-GOOD OLD FASHIONED LOVERBOY BY QUEEN

"I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things // We can do the tango, just for two // I can serenade and gently play on your heart strings // Be your Valentino, just for you // Ooh, love, ooh, lover boy // What're you doing tonight? Hey, boy // Set my alarm, turn on my charm // That's because I'm a good old-fashioned lover boy // Ooh, let me feel your heartbeat (grow faster, faster) // (Ooh-ooh) can you feel my love heat? (Ooh-ooh) // Come on and sit on my hot seat of love // And tell me how do you feel, right after all // I'd like for you and I to go romancing // Say the word, your wish is my command"

"Dining at the Ritz, we'll meet at nine // (One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine o'clock) precisely // I will pay the bill, you taste the wine // Driving back in style, in my saloon, will do quite nicely // Just take me back to yours, that will be fine // Come on and get it // Ooh, love (there he goes again) // Ooh, lover boy (he's my good old-fashioned lover boy, ooh) // What're you doing tonight? Hey, boy // Everything's all right, just hold on tight // That's because I'm a good old-(fashioned, fashioned) lover boy"

[terriedirewolf]

Wasteland 3 was on sale a little while back and I've been wanting to play that since I saw it existed. Most people don't know this game series existed. Those who do, know it from fallout, and probably never touched the games before. Those who know it from fallout know it from old fallout. Back when they was 2d and played like a point and click that threw the simple item puzzles into the sun and decided to dungeon master a dnd game but with guns and robots. Plus, the original game is archaic and has graphics that more resemble a board game than a video game, and the second game came out like 20 years later. I mean I'm all over ancient and archaic games, and I only have managed to ever scrape my way through half of that thing. I even used a guide. I beat zelda nes without pulling a guide out until that teleport maze in the final dungeon.

So anyway, wasteland 3 is now my favorite rpg, and I've been reevaluating a few of my projects because of it. I have a number of games that can be loosely crammed into the definitions of RPG. And I missed something crutial with my party based one: specialization. Now I missed wasteland 2, but my previous favorite rpg was fallout 1. And that game only let you directly control and stat manage one character. You could get companions, but they didn't factor into things the same way. Wasteland, having always been a game where you control a team of post nuclear idealists with government issued integrity, does not let you make a god teir character like in fallout. The third game makes you make a team. This team can and will be more effective than any single player rpg protagonist for a number of reasons, and it is very hard to fuck it up. I love the shit out of how well they get this across. Like, I could go into depth about how wasteland 3's opening bit is one of the best tutorials ever crafted. Rides a real nice balence of understanding what players might expect going into that, making them rethink their approach, and showing off just how fun and rewarding that all can be. Sort of un-hack-and-slashing the rpg system, while also making sure to be as brutal and rediculous as possible.

Funny thing is, I already kind of understood the importance of this kind of specialization when designing concepts for a real-time tactical third person shooter. Trying to lean into the mmo tank, healer, hitter trio that seems so inexcapable. Healers and tanks are tricky, if possible to do in wasteland 3 though, and that's what I think is really facinating. As far as I can tell, you can't do that without fundementally changing how these kinds of games function, but this does it pretty well, at least early on, and I'm trying to work out exactly how? Healers are somewhat negated by the fact that it's hard to play that kind of support role. Meaning every character that would be put in risky situations frequently, has to be capable of healing themselves. Tanks are less viable cause the combat relies a lot on cover and damage mitigation by default, meaning everyone again, kind of has to do all of that themselves. I think what's going on is what happens outside of combat.

Wasteland stats are funny, cause they were a fucking mess in the 80s game. You had to roll the damn characters, then tag a number of skills. And it was not clear what all of them did. And half of them might not actually do anything. Fallout used a similar system, with atributes and skills, but in a much more coherent way. The details of the SPECIAL system has been praised before, just know it used to be significantly more in depth than the nonsense in fallout 3 and onwards. Wasteland 3, and from what I can tell, 2 as well, uses a similar system, this time spelling CLASSIC cause tradition at this point. Comes complete with perks and backgrounds to further customize your rangers with little tweeks like doing more damage in exchange for getting hit for more damage, or getting more action points when you kill an enemy. The long winded point I was getting to is that the vast majority of skills are not combat skills, but exploration skills. Arguably, the only reason combat skills are seperated out so much is to keep everyone using different ammo pools. If you want a good balenced squad, you want one, maybe two combat skills per char, and the rest going into stuff like the speech and trading skills, repair and computers. Maybe some weapons experts or power armor mechanics. Cause these let you avoid fights. Or at least help getting better gear and the jump on things you have to fight.

Game isn't perfect, but it's by far one of the best designed crpg's I've ever touched, and very fun in a lot of ways. Almost makes me actually enjoy math. That's hard to do. I only math when I need to, and it takes all the energy my two brain cells can squeeze out.

And like, drawings here later maybe. I keep not drawing as much as I want to. There's a ton of cool stuff I'd like to show off, but I didn't get around to sketching the mf's out yet. Hopefully I get around to doing that and whoever's here can look at more than my badly structured ramblings.

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Reflection: A Malevolent Fanfic

Hastur plants some dangerous seeds with intent let them grow to fruition.

Or: They can have a little divorce, as a treat.

(Takes place in the Surrogate series, after Aftercare)

AO3

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

Purpose aside, Outer-God cautions aside, desperation and pain aside… this new game is fun.

Stage one certainly is, anyway.

[“He is not eating enough.”]

And oh, the way Arthur flinches as John is spurred into abandoning English again, the way Arthur curls down over his untouched encebollado de pescado…

John does not know. Yet.

[He’s eating fine! Leave him alone.]

Arthur clenches his spoon.

Wonderful. And awful, at the same time. Like those two marks, Hastur is of two minds when it comes to Arthur’s pain; but he knows which mind is his.

[“He eats less than Faroe, John.”]

John seems shocked, looks down at the soup, registers how little Arthur’s actually put in his mouth (and he would not have if not for Hastur), and growls. Fucking hell, Arthur, will you just eat the damn soup?

“I’m not hungry,” Arthur mutters, and if it is slightly more like his old self—just a tiny edge, just the barest hint of defiance—Hastur can forgive that.

Arthur isn’t… healing, exactly; not yet. But between John’s mark and Hastur’s, he is bolstered—spiritual bones set, in a position where he can.

And John does not know. Yet.

Arthur! Eat the soup.

Arthur sighs and dips his spoon.

Hastur retreats. For now.

#

Stage two is even better. The soil is turned, and now, Hastur plants.

[“John. He requires more water.”]

[What?]

Arthur plays, shoulders tensed at the familiar, gravely sounds of a language he cannot comprehend.

Arthur has stopped asking what John is saying because John refuses to answer.

And Hastur knows why. John feels guilt for talking to Hastur so much, for communing with the enemy—but John has to.

They need each other. Neither is whole.

Hastur will not let him forget that again. [“He drinks too little. He is dehydrated.”]

[How can you tell?]

[“John… can’t you feel it?”]

John can’t remember how. He can’t remember how to use the mark, to access all that Arthur is, thinks, feels, does.

But Hastur can. And he will hold that out like the most tantalizing lure.

Arthur. It’s time to drink some water.

“What?” says Arthur, confused.

Water. Now.

John bullies him until he drinks. (So unnecessary. John could sway him, if he remembered how, but he does not.)

At least it’s John’s attention. Arthur drinks that too, parched.

John still does not realize.

Hastur retreats. For now.

#

It’s been five weeks since marking.

Stage three is well underway. The watering: John is, at this point, easy to enrage. All Hastur has to do is talk about Arthur.

About things in Arthur that John can’t see. About things in Arthur that John can’t feel.

About Arthur, good or bad, and he has John’s full attention, and if it is good to have that (not whole, not yet, but closer), neither of them have to say, because what would be the point of speaking it out loud?

And if it is good that this makes Arthur feel isolated, well… there’s no need to say that, either.

Out the window, Faroe is learning to ride—a tiny, white-clad spot upon the back of a dragon, held in place by Dis. Faroe looks like she’s having the time of her life.

Arthur does not know because John forgot to tell him.

[It was a magnificent piece, you absolute bastard,] John is saying, irritated because Hastur put down the first of the owed jubilees.

[“It was not one of his best. He still owes me two more, and then the third current jubilee, besides; they need to be better than that. But you misunderstand; I am not accusing. I know he can’t help it; he’s not well.”]

John’s tremor is a beautiful thing, and Hastur cannot wait to feel it inside him.

He cannot wait to be whole.

Outside the window, Faroe’s happy squeal travels right to them, and Arthur lifts his head. “What’s happening out there?”

She’s training.

Hastur is so glad John hasn’t been more reasonable about this.

“She… she sounds happy, though, she—”

Not now, Arthur. [What the fuck do you mean, he’s not well?]

And Arthur slumps back down, aching to see his daughter do whatever made her so happy, aching to at least know what she does, but left, still, in the dark.

[“He’s weakening. To be fair, part of that is my fault.”]

[Part!]

[“The prison pits were not kind to him, and that damage has not been addressed. What we are looking at now, John, is that in a few years, his heart will have trouble; his kidneys already do have trouble. He barely moves, and his calorie deficit has led to muscle degeneration. John, you should know this. I shouldn’t have to be telling you this.”]

John is puffing like a bellows again. [Then why the fuck are you telling me?]

Which is a funny sentence to hear, because for whatever reason, John uses “fuck” in English, in the middle of an otherwise alien sentence.

And because it’s fun, Hastur tells him outright what he’s doing: [“Because, while I loathe him, you don’t—and I want you to come home. If taking better care of him is what I have to do to earn your trust, then so be it.”]

John goes quiet.

[“John… if you will let me, I can help you.”]

[Let you! You hold all the damn cards in this.]

[“True. But working with you instead of against you is better for us both—and for Arthur. Don’t you agree?”]

Out the window, Dis has decided Faroe’s seat is good enough that the dragon can leap. Not fly; not quite yet. But for one amazing moment, they are off the ground.

Faroe laughs wildly.

“John,” whispers Arthur. “What’s happening?”

Arthur, not—

“Faroe is learning to ride,” says Hastur, using the syrupy voice he has of late every time he addresses Arthur in private, because that, too, is part of the game. “She is on the back of a dragon.”

Arthur sits right the fuck up and drops his spoon. “A dragon? Is that safe?”

She—

“Oh, yes. Her trainer is there, holding her from behind; the dragon is on the ground, not flying, and is the gentlest breed. Three times the size of a horse, long old enough that her fire is quenched, she is completely safe to ride. Faroe is dwarfed on the old mare’s back; her simple white linen is stark upon the mottled red of the aged beast, and the laugh you heard came as she turned her face toward the sun for joy and freedom and the exultation of youth.”

John is silent. If he had a mouth, it would be hanging open.

Arthur’s mouth is open. Oh, that face.

(And Hastur is of two minds regarding that blissful expression, the shiny eyes, the tremulous smile, but he knows which mind is his.)

Fuck off! John declares.

“Thank you,” whispers Arthur, imagining the scene (far more accurately than he knows), treasuring it.

“The offer stands,” Hastur says, having won this round quite handily.

And Hastur retreats. For now.

#

It is time for stage four, the longest stage, the tending stage, and that begins with mirrors.

Arthur wakes.

Oh! John says in that way he does.

“What?” Arthur stretches, tired—he never feels rested, no matter how long he sleeps—and gets out of bed.

There’s… there’s a… oh!

Arthur goes still. “John.”

Mirrors, says John.

“Mirrors?” Arthur says, baffled.

John stares at him. Stares at his face, at the dark circles under his eyes, at the gauntness of his cheeks. M… mirrors, he says weakly. They’re everywhere. Just… everywhere.

“Everywhere?” Arthur is so confused (and his face is a journey, an epic of expressions that fly from confused to annoyed to uncaring to concerned). “Why?”

Fuck if I know. I’ll ask him at breakfast.

And Arthur’s face… falls.

John didn’t expect that. Doesn’t understand that. Arthur?

“What?” Arthur sounds normal. Gets up. Works his way toward his washroom.

You… are you… all right?

Confusion, followed by some kind of sorrow, loss, maybe grief. “Yes. Why?”

You… I just… I need to be sure.

Arthur sighs. “I’m fine, John. It’s all copacetic.” He runs the water.

Sure. There are mirrors in here, too.

John has never seen Arthur’s body fully naked—not from outside of it, only ever from Arthur’s point of view.

The scars are—

His ribs are—

Fuck, says John quietly.

“What?” says Arthur, soaping up.

Hastur did something to the mirrors in here, because they’re not steaming up. John can see everything so clearly.

Arthur startles as John takes the soap away. “Um. Is there a problem?”

Let me do this, okay?

“Sure?” The confusion is kind of adorable, or would be on a face less haggard.

John takes his time. Inspects as he goes, tries to determine just how bad it is, how far it’s gone, what else he’s missed.

Arthur sort of zones out and lets him.

John couldn’t tell. Hastur was right; he should have been feeling all of this. Arthur can’t be well.

What else does he not know?

John is quiet as Arthur dresses, as Arthur steels himself for yet another meal with his enemy and his child (and now John can see that process across his shockingly expressive face).

OH!

Arthur freezes halfway out the door. “What?”

Mirrors. Fucking hell, he can see Arthur from every angle. He looks so small in the hugeness of this place.

“All right,” says Arthur, confused; then he shakes it off and heads toward breakfast.

Seventy-three steps to prepare.

Seventy-three steps to ready himself for whatever’s waiting today.

Seventy-three steps in which his face changes from pain to anticipation to fear to resignation and the barest hint of steel that remains beneath the cracks.

John had no idea.

What else does he not know?

#

Step one was getting John to view Hastur’s interference as positive; step two was getting John to consider that the only way to keep Arthur safe is to become whole. Step three was watering, encouraging growth, ensuring the soil was just right.

Step four is envy.

This will require time to take root. Hastur isn’t going to make the same mistake he did when he used Faroe to break Arthur.

After all, he’s finally sure where he went wrong. The finale came too soon. He hadn’t given John time to wrestle with the fact that his mule was broken, and so John hadn’t been ready to leave.

Hastur won’t repeat that error. No, John gets to linger, to dwell in the reality that without Hastur, he cannot care for Arthur. To realize on his own that without Hastur, Arthur would be dead.

To realize that Hastur can do for Arthur things John could never dream.

To feel that envy coursing through his veins.

“Good morning,” he says to them, tentacles waving, languid as if in deep water.

“Hi!” Faroe proclaims, and sneezes. She sniffles.

“Gesundheit,” Arthur says.

Faroe falls to giggling. “Gass-oon-tight?”

Arthur’s smile is beautiful; it’s barely there, barely peeking, and in the mirrors, John can see it. It’s like the hint of coming dawn, light from a sun that has yet to fully rise. “It means ‘good health’ in German. You say it when people sneeze, hoping they aren’t sick.”

Faroe spends much of breakfast practicing the word to get it right. (She doesn’t.)

She also spends much of it sneezing.

“Is she getting sick?” Arthur asks as she finally goes.

“There is a minor cold making its rounds among my humans,” says Hastur. “I have protected you from it.”

Arthur bristles (John can’t take his eyes off the sight). “But not Faroe?”

“Her immune system needs to be built up; the antibodies she forms will be valuable to her as she grows. You, on the other hand, are in no shape for illness, and if you did catch a cold, it would likely go straight into your lungs.”

Arthur’s frown is like his smile—it’s barely there, but real, a hint of his essential self still unable to poke leaves above the soil. “I’m not that fragile.”

“You are,” says Hastur. “I am telling you for the Piece’s sake.” And he pauses with great import. “For John’s sake.”

Arthur’s eyes widen. John sees it. “What, he’s graduated from ‘Piece,’ now?”

Hastur is so pleased. Arthur is smart enough to play the game, even if he doesn’t know he’s doing it. “Yes. It was my mistake, lessening him so; though it is true that neither of us are… what we ought to be, he is his own person, and I must respect that.”

Arthur’s faces are magnificent. Bafflement; outright disbelief; suspicion (kind of a cute look, if Hastur were honest, so shady). “Right,” says Arthur slowly.

What the fuck are you doing now? John demands. [Whatever you’re doing to him, you fucking well better—]

“John,” says Hastur. “Look.”

John looks.

Arthur has hunched. The moment John spoke his own, native tongue, Arthur hunched, white-knuckled over his food, jaw tight.

John is baffled.

A sneeze filters through the window from outside, followed by an overenthusiastic, shrill, Gas-oon-tight!

Arthur really smiles.

It’s not a thousand-watt smile; it’s still sad, still under eyes that grow too shiny, but he smiles, and it’s real, and his cheeks gain some color.

For her.

We’re done. Arthur, get up.

“What?” says Arthur. “What, you’re not going to force-feed me this morning?”

Music. We’re late. You’re behind. Go.

Arthur shakes his head. “Fine. Whatever you want, John.” He stands.

“Curious,” says Hastur.

What? John demands.

“That you do not see what hurts him.”

Arthur’s look is sharp. “What? Nothing hurts me.”

[“I can feel it. Clearly, you cannot—but can you at least see?”]

[What the fuck are you even talking… about…]

Watching Arthur’s face fall stops John in his tracks.

John still hasn’t figured out why. Good.

Hastur abruptly stands. “Come, Arthur. John. Let us retire to your music room.”

“What?” says Arthur, staggering back slightly.

Hastur picks him up.

Arthur curses (so does John), and struggles for two seconds before freezing like a rabbit.

What the fuck are you doing?

“I believe it is time to make a point,” says Hastur, moving down the hall considerably faster than Arthur ever could, but not so fast that John can’t still see his face in every surface.

John will always see his face. Hastur’s made sure of it.

The music room is vast, designed for entire orchestras to practice.

Arthur has no orchestras. The musicians who play his music do so without ever having met him.

Hastur floats through the dust motes, through the beams of light from mullioned windows, and places Arthur at the piano. “Play your latest work for me.”

Arthur is so confused.

What are you doing? John demands.

“Play,” says Hastur, low, and casually as anything, sways Arthur to obey.

It doesn’t take much. Arthur would rather be playing than talking, anyway.

The new jubilee’s music is going to break hearts. It’s gorgeous; it’s grief-ridden. It’s haunting, beautiful, and so moving that in any other circumstance, Hastur would be swept away by it, riding on these wild and weird emotions.

(Good enough that, were Hastur to come across this musician in the worlds somewhere, he would have taken him. But that bears no further consideration.)

Arthur finishes, hands deep in the keys, head down, sniffling, and not due to a cold.

“John,” says Hastur, softly. “Can you feel him?”

Hastur knows he can’t.

There is a silent moment of struggling. No, John says, and it is haggard.

“Look.” Hastur touches Arthur’s chin to raise it.

John looks.

John sees, in the mirrors, sees that Arthur wears the heart’s cry of that music on his face.

John makes a small sound.

“I do this now not for myself, and not for you,” says Hastur, making sure they both hear him, “but for John.” And he picks Arthur up again.

Horrible. No, it is. Really.

(It’s not.)

Arthur stiffens.

Hastur brings him up to his mask-like face. “Think of John,” he murmurs, encouraging Arthur to do so through the mark on his soul.

Arthur stops being stiff.

John sees. John watches, unable to avoid it, not wanting to avoid it, staring at the reflection on the ceiling and on the walls as Arthur goes still, his expression smooths out, and—

Keep them open for me, John says, his voice gone husky.

Arthur does, though he wants to close them in relief.

He’s forgotten who is holding him. Hastur knows how to use a damn mark.

Wh… why…

“Because you can’t.” And Hastur stands there, waiting, until mere exhaustion takes its toll, merging with relaxation (forced or otherwise, it’s rare), and Arthur falls asleep.

So softly now, speaking only to John, “He needs much healing.”

John sounds choked. I can’t do this for him.

“I can. For you. Not for him—I hate him, John. But you… for you, I will be your arms. Your touch. I will be your eyes, for when you cannot see him clearly.”

And it is the stupidest cheesy line in all of creation… but it works.

John makes a sound Hastur’s been angling toward for weeks: a quiet sob. A concession.

Damn you, John says.

That is not a no.

“Explain to him when he wakes. I will not be there for that.” And he carries them both back to Arthur’s room and just leaves them on the bed. And now… he just has to wait.

Hastur retreats.

#

Arthur wakes feeling… rested?

Almost rested.

Peaceful. Muscles lacking the ache that comes with constant tension, stomach not roiling in anxiety, calm.

He lies there for a moment, soaking it in. Then, he freaks right out.

“John, what the fuck?” he says, and sits up.

Arthur.

Arthur hasn’t actually panicked in some time. He can’t do it fully, even now—adrenal glands too exhausted, emotions too strained—but he can be upset.

He is definitely upset.

“What the fuck was that?” he says, voice cracking. “He… I couldn’t… John!”

He used the mark to influence you, says John, still subdued, and in doing so, gave you the best sleep you’ve had in… I don’t even know how long.

Arthur lunges from the bed and paces, breathing hard, clutching his hair. “What the fuck,” he says. “What the fuck, what the f… John, I couldn’t… John, he was in my head.”

He’s in it now. So am I. Even lower, bitter, but apparently, not the same way.

“John, what happened?”

John sighs. He was right. That’s what happened. All this fucking time, he was right.

“About what?”

How to take care of you.

“What?” Arthur is totally lost. He’s pacing again, teeth bared.

He’s been telling me for weeks that you’re not well.

“What?” says Arthur. “When?”

When we’re talking. Nearly every damn meal.

Arthur stops dead in his tracks and sputters. “You… you’ve been talking about me all this time?”

Yes. He’s been saying that—

“Why the fuck couldn’t you tell me?” Arthur snarls.

Snarls.

So that’s confusing as fuck, because it’s absolutely incredible to see such intense expression on him, to hear it in his voice, and John would have given anything to make that happen—but unfortunately, it seems he did make that happen, and Arthur is mad at him, and John isn’t sure what he did wrong, and it feels pretty awful that the first surge of real Arthurian anger John’s seen since they got here is pointed his way.

I—

“You let me stew, and fear, and tumble around in the miserable reality that you were fucking leaving me too, and all this time, you were talking about me?” Arthur almost yells.

Huh? Arthur’s lost him. You what? You felt what? Why?

Arthur’s mouth hangs open. He throws his hands in the air and storms for the door. “I have music to write.”

Wait just a damn minute. What are you talking about? We need to talk about this!

“Oh, we do?” says Arthur. “Now, we do? It’s been weeks, John! Weeks of… she’s gone doing lessons, and that’s fine, but you’ve barely fucking talked to me! And you… you two have been talking, all the damn time, over my head in words I can’t understand, and when I asked you, you got so damn secretive, and dismissive, like… like…”

(John desperately wants him to continue, wants him to feel these things.)

(Is terrified he’ll continue, is terrified Arthur hates him out of the blue.)

“Like I'm nothing! A nobody, hardly privy to the machinations of kings, and… and here you’ve just been… talking about my diet, or something, for weeks?”

Well… yes, actually, but that’s not why I -

“Fuck you!” Arthur slams his bedroom door and snarls his way down the hall. His eyes are wide, pupils blown; his teeth are still bared.

He almost looks fierce. If he also didn't also look like a drowned cat.

Arthur!

“No. No! You don’t get to talk to me now. Not after all this. After… after… did you plan that? Did you tell him to do that? Was that a…” Arthur’s voice breaks. “He was in my head. I could only think what he told me to. He… he was…”

Arthur…

“Fuck you, John. Just shut up. I have music to write.”

Arth—

“SHUT UP!” And Arthur pants.

So he must be healing, because this would have been unthinkable a week ago.

And it’s pointed at John.

John is silent.

Arthur stalks over to the piano, misjudges slightly, and bangs his shin on the bench. “Ow! That’s your fault.”

Fuck’s sake, Arthur.

Arthur sits down and begins to play.

The second jubilee is not going to be the same.

This one is angry. It’s fire, waves of thick chords and repeated octaves, pounding torrents using the whole piano’s range like some deadly storm.

It’s so much more than he’s felt, obviously, clearly, in a long time, and…

John can’t feel it. He can see, watch Arthur’s face, watch his hands fly, but he can’t feel it for himself.

He knows, without even having to ask, that Hastur feels every bit.

Something in John’s heart twists.

Arthur finally finishes, and he’s breathing hard. Hands tight in the keys, arched like claws, the scribble of magical nib on paper recording every note he made for the sake of the musicians who will play it in a week.

Arthur.

“I’m not ready to talk to you, John.”

That something twists more. All right.

Arthur goes back to practicing the first jubilee’s songs. He has to perform tonight, after all.

#

Apart from directions, John doesn’t speak until it’s over.

Arthur played the sad jubilee, and though John would have predicted his new mood ruining its grief, it did not. It heightened it.

The undercurrent of darkness, of somehow betrayed rage, only made the sorrow stronger, made it richer, added a knife-point sparkle to the whole bloody thing, and when Arthur is done (again, breathing hard), and the instrumentalists are finished (many of them shaking, a few with tears), there is a moment of stunned and awful silence in Hastur’s ostentatious ballroom.

The applause begins from the back somewhere, started by someone daring to defy Hastur’s open mockery and unspoken command, and it immediately catches fire. Everyone is applauding, murmuring, sniffling.

Arthur wipes his face (on his right hand, completely avoiding his left), and sits there, glaring at the keys, not even standing to acknowledge the praise.

John can see him in the reflection of the lacquered wood (did Hastur enhance that, too?), and it is a deeply hurt look.

John is vaguely aware of Hastur speechifying the situation, taking credit, moving things right along.

It’s his moment. They may not get another moment all night, if Hastur decides to parade Arthur around as he sometimes does with mockery.

I’m sorry.

Arthur swallows. John watches his Adam’s apple bob.

I’m sorry, Arthur. I didn’t… I didn’t realize how much that hurt you.

“You’re all I have, John.” It’s barely audible, but John can hear him, can watch his lips tremble and move. “Truly, all I have.”

John can’t help it. What, not even your precious Faroe?

“Faroe is… my heart is hers. But she’s his. She’d be sad if I went, but it wouldn’t… interrupt her life in any way at all. I love her from afar. John, you’re all I have, and I was… I’ve been losing you.”

Losing me?

“Every damn day, you grew further away. That’s how it felt. Excluding me from communication you’re having inside my own damn head. Not telling me how you feel, or anything. Not even telling me why you’d suddenly… demand I eat, or drink some water, or go lie down. None of it. You made me feel like a burden, John. Like a… a project.” His voice drops further. “As if I’m unaware that that’s what I am. I already know that. You don’t have to… you didn’t have to make it worse.”

Well, fuck. Arthur, you’re not any of those things.

“I am. I have been since we got here. Since she came back. I’m not stupid, John. Whatever you… whatever I was that made you change, that helped you grow… that’s gone. I’m not that anymore, and I may never be again.”

John is sure he will be again. His anger today enforces that hope—but now is not the time to bring it up. I don’t care.

Arthur wipes his eyes.

In sickness and in health. That’s what you humans say, right?

Arthur’s laugh is weak and surprised, but at least it happens. “John, that… that’s a wedding vow. We’re hardly a couple.”

So? I can still make that vow to you. I think I already did, anyway. In sickness and in health. You’re sick right now. That doesn’t mean I don’t… that… that doesn’t change anything.

“In sickness and in health,” Arthur whispers. “You whacko. All right. Have it your way.”

The anger is gone. His brow has smoothed out. The sorrow is back, by itself, but now it looks like calm waters, rather than a sucking void.

John takes his hand.

Arthur squeezes it back.

John wishes he could take Arthur in his arms like Hastur. He wishes… so many things. Are we good?

“We’re good. Don’t do that to me again, though. Ass.”

I won’t. He dares: Prick.

Arthur’s lips quirk. “Bastard.”

John could cry. When did they last play like this? Jerk.

Arthur laughs again, so soft—

“There he is!” booms a new voice, and a truly unnerving number of tentacles come slithering in from the right like fast-moving smoke.

Arthur gasps and hurls himself out of them, off the bench in the other direction, trips on his cape, and lands on the floor.

A being hovers there, and it is a horrible huge eye. Green-irised, pupil split, it drips with tentacles and some clear, smoking fluid, and its voice makes the air between them tremble and contort. “The man of the hour! Hello, little one.”

The guests don’t talk to Arthur. They don’t dare, after all Hastur’s done. “Uh,” Arthur says.

John’s voice is tight. Get away from it. For it to be defying Hastur this openly is—

“I’m currently in negotiations to buy you,” says the thing. “Your sorrow is exquisite! I just wanted to know if you could tell me what you’re so sad about. I’d love to have a supply of it on hand, whatever it is, and if it requires time to obtain, well! No use letting the grass grow under one’s… feet.” The thing laughs, hovering a meter off the ground, tentacles quivering with its humor.

Arthur’s reflection goes pale.

Liar, says John. Liar!

“Well?” says the being, who cannot hear him.

Arthur shuffles back, getting caught on his cape, unable to stand. “Hastur,” he whispers.

“Pardon? You’re sad about Hastur? Well that’s very—”

“Hastur!”

And John feels that through the mark.

Hastur arrives.

He doesn’t land with the architectural mayhem he did before; does not come in fire, or explosions, or crawling black mist of flesh-eating power. Oh, but he is there, and present, and pushing the floating eye back by dint of pure anger. “Cyäegha! Well, I hadn’t invited you, as I recall—what a pleasant surprise.”

Arthur, says John. Get up and leave. They are going to fight.

“Now?” Arthur says, finally turning onto his hands and knees to find his feet.

This is a challenge. Move.

“Go on, Arthur,” says Hastur, not turning around. “Cyäegha will wait until you are gone.”

“Oh, will I?” says Cyäegha, and now the air in the whole room is warping.

Go!

Arthur runs.

#

He’s out of breath by the time he reaches his room, hands shaking, badly sweating, but all his sounds are hidden by the terrible noise behind.

Gods fighting is not a quiet indoor activity.

Fucking asshole, John is muttering. I remember that guy now. He shows up every millennia or so.

Arthur can’t catch his breath. “He… he what?”

He’s got a temper a mile long, and I… John pauses. You know, I can’t remember what I did to him to make him so mad. Whatever it is, he remembers, and keeps coming around trying to settle the score.

“He wasn’t going to buy me.”

Hell no. He said that to upset you. To see what you’d do. If you wanted to get away from Hastur, it didn't matter, but if you wanted to stay—if being bought would upset you—then hurting you might hurt him.

Arthur rubs his face. “That’s… stupid?”

He’s all temper. Hastur’s got this. Don’t worry.

“Even though he’s not whole?”

John goes quiet.

“Sometimes you slipped,” says Arthur, peeling off his sweat-soaked uniform. He still hasn’t caught his breath.

Slipped? That’s as small as John’s voice ever gets.

Arthur sighs. “You want to be whole. I heard you. You could’ve just fucking told me, you know.”

No wonder Arthur had thought John was going to leave him. I thought… I…

“Does it hurt, John?” Arthur is still, uniform half off, staring at nothing—but Hastur’s mirrors are fucking everywhere, and John can see his face.

See the openness there, the readiness for whatever John says, even if it is painful. A weary anticipation.

Yes. John decides lying is a bad idea now. It does.

“I’m sorry.” Arthur finishes stripping and leaves his clothes in a sodden pile. “So that… that actually had nothing to do with me?”

John is wondering how Arthur called for Hastur through the mark.

John is wondering what that was, because the power of the mark goes one way.

John is wondering, because he hasn’t been able to feel anything from Arthur—and then the one thing he had felt is impossible.

No, it didn’t, he says. Though I have a bad feeling more like this is coming. You’re becoming noticeable.

Arthur snorts.

You are. You… you’re noticeable, Arthur. That didn’t come out right. I mean… you stand out.

“Thanks?” says Arthur, expression absolutely dry.

John huffs. Fucking forget it. I’m glad you’re okay.

Arthur still hasn’t caught his breath.

John stares at him as he gets in the shower. The paleness. The bones. The scars. This has to end. We’re going to switch things up tomorrow.

“Are we?” Arthur is exhausted.

John helps him wash his hair. Yes. No arguments.

“Sure, John. No arguments.” Arthur has checked out.

John’s not surprised. Today was a lot.

More than Arthur’s been through in…

In a while.

I won’t hide things from you again. I’m never leaving you. I’m sorry you felt like I was.

That got his attention. Shower or not, John can tell Arthur’s eyes are filling. “In sickness and in health, eh?”

In sickness and in health. Now let’s get you to bed.

-----

NOTES:

We have no shame.

I picked the Robot Devil and @sepiabandensis dressed him up. Um, ta-da?