#read my fic Jose is there

[eggs-can-draw]

Painful cycle

[feyind]

various sketches drawn while writing ch14

sortie cheval on ao3 x

[moregraceful]

It feels like getting pulled underwater—the sharp sideways tug, the slight drag of resistance, then falling, falling, till the waves close over his head. But Logan can breathe when he rights himself again, even if the light has a watery filter to it and the voices have a distant echo. // Sometimes Logan gets a glimpse of guys who've been long gone from the teal, clustered at the far end of the bench or sitting in the box across the ice. He heard Jason's voice in the hallway loud and clear, that infectious laugh. And he could have sworn he saw Raffi fucking Torres getting out of a car in the players' lot. Something tells him not to look up the rosters.

Commissioned @impmakesart to make a painting based on the Sharks' Cali Fin hype reel + the flip side by frausorge. Imp was amazing to work with and I could not be more emotional about this piece and so, so pleased with how it turned out!! 🙇🏻‍♂️🙇🏻‍♂️ Commission him here. Thank you Imp!

[ronsenburg]

tactility - prologue

a sylvix star trek au, ~2500 words. (read on ao3)

chapter notes: this scene contains descriptions of (trek) canon typical violence and injury. I don’t think you need to be a trek fan to understand any of it, but do let me know if I’m wrong!

STARDATE 2391

This is the way Sylvain’s Starfleet career ends—at least, this is the way he remembers it. 

The bridge is flooded in red light and the sirens have been wailing in the background for so long now that Sylvain has stopped hearing them all together. He's not hearing anything, really, except an unnatural, high-pitched whistling from somewhere behind his left ear that seems to get louder if he stops to think about it too hard. His back is flat to the floor, eyes staring up at a ceiling he’s definitely never thought to look at before. There’s not much to see, anyway, just seamless panels of smooth, shiny metal arching out of his direct line of sight. Did he pass out? Must have—why else would he be laid out on his back here instead of at his station? Sylvain frowns, trying unsuccessfully to focus his thoughts, until—out of the corner of his eye—the flash of a combadge, a glimpse of jet black hair. 

Sylvain turns his head just a fraction of a rotation to the left. 

It hurts. 

Hurts badly enough that, swift as a slap across the face, the rest of his senses come rushing back: too fast, and then, too loud. There’s the red alert sirens back again, now punctuated by the frantic shouting of a host of different voices and the sharp cracks of discharged electricity. The acrid scent of electrical smoke hangs heavy in the air; melted plastic melding with scorched metal and what’s likely the smoldering tips of his own hair. Sylvain can feel the humming of impulse engines beneath his back, pulsing steady under the more erratic vibrations of feet thundering against a metal ground. 

And then, Sylvain remembers.

It comes to him in an abrupt and jumbled burst: a direct hit to the shields they’d been too distracted to raise. The spectacular flash of a plasma conduit ejecting its charge through the very console that Sylvain had been frantically attempting to navigate. The sound of Ingrid screaming something that sounded very much like his name—and then pain. So much pain. 

The rapid influx of stimuli makes Sylvain want to vomit. His vision wobbles, tinted dark along the edges. It’s—yeah, it’s probably not a good sign. 

But he hadn’t been hallucinating before, at least: Felix really is there. Sylvain catches a glimpse of his face hovering at the edge of his line of sight—pale and wide-eyed—just before losing focus again. His vision blurs, then doubles, and Sylvain can’t help the low groan that escapes him. The only thing that keeps him from fading into unconsciousness right then and there is the sudden sensation of Felix’s cold and uncharacteristically cautious fingers ghosting over the top of his left hand. And with just that barest bit of contact, something settles into place: the swaying stops and steadies, his heart rate slows to something less frantic. He knows better than to assume some sort of Betazoid mind-manipulation on Felix’s part—as far as Sylvain is aware, Felix couldn’t manage that even if he’d wanted to. This is just the way it’s always been for Sylvain: things are better when Felix is nearby. He stopped questioning the ‘why’ of it all ages ago. 

Felix looks like he’s been through it, himself. There’s a nasty looking gash above his right eyebrow, only just barely starting to scab over. Dried blood is smeared down the side of his face where he’d clearly pushed it out of the path of his eyes, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and grime, and it’s still the most perfect sight that Sylvain has ever seen. 

Sylvain smiles, lopsided and probably more than a little pathetic. “Hey, beautiful.” 

It’s the first time he’s tried to speak. The words come out in a clumsy sort of mumble, inarticulate like someone shoved a bag of cotton balls under his tongue while he was out. It feels just like the kind of really bad hangover he hasn’t had since he gave up Aldebaran whiskey a few years back. A head injury, then. Great.

The look of bewilderment that flashes across Felix’s face lasts for only a moment—he always has been quicker on the recovery than the rest of them. No way to tell, then, if it’s the slurred speech or the pet name that causes the reaction when Felix’s features have already collapsed together into the familiar frown that Sylvain knows and also inexplicably loves. This particular look is one that he might normally interpret as ‘concerned’ if he had the mental capacity for that kind of deliberation now. It doesn’t matter; the chirping of a combadge activating effectively interrupts any coherent line of thought. Felix’s voice is deceptively even. Ever the good little soldier. “Med team to the bridge.” 

“Mm, that bad, huh?” Sylvain asks. 

Felix doesn’t answer immediately. The ink might only barely be dried on their commission orders, but they’re Starfleet Officers, now, with regulations for every conceivable occasion. Implementing trauma triage protocol on your oldest friend isn’t a novel situation by any measure; there’s likely a subsection written into the official Starfleet Handbook covering it at this point. Right now, Felix’s attention is turned to examination, fingers skating up Sylvain’s abdomen and over his right shoulder. Sylvain can barely feel them, which is probably another bad sign, but he’s too preoccupied by a line of dark soot smudged underneath Felix’s eye to really acknowledge it. 

“You know,” Sylvain prompts, tongue gaining some maneuverability with each word, “if you don’t tell me, I’m just gonna assume the worst.”

There’s a pause, too long for anything Felix says in reply to be a comfort. When he does answer, his tone is terse. “Don’t try to get up.” 

And it’s kind of funny, actually. Sylvain laughs—or at least, he tries to, his voice so rough that it sounds more like a cough. “Don’t think that’s going to be much of a problem.”

It’s funny because Sylvain can’t move his right arm. He hadn’t realized until now, at this very moment, when the urge to reach up and run his thumb along that streak of grime on Felix’s face was too overwhelming to keep ignoring any longer. Instead, his fingers twitch uselessly somewhere near his side. Prophets is he fucked.

“I mean, I wouldn’t leave you even if I could,” Sylvain continues, and begins flexing the muscles of his left arm and legs experimentally. The reciprocal pain nearly steals the breath away from his lungs completely. He grimaces. “But I definitely can’t. Do you think you—“

“Stop moving,” Felix snaps with enough ferocity that Sylvain does exactly that, mouth included. “I need—Wait here.”

Felix’s face disappears from Sylvain’s sight—the involuntary noise of protest he makes ignored—until the whine of a medical tricorder joins the ambient noise around him, its high pitch rising above the sound of the sirens. But Felix has never been one for combat first aid; his frustration shows in the clench of his jaw and the way he slams his hand against the badge on his chest for a second time before biting out, “where the fuck is that med team.”

The sound of unintelligible shouting from the direction of the turbo lift is the only response he gets. 

“Busy night,” Sylvain supplies. “Should’ve made a reservation.” 

 “You’re not helping.”

“I am legitimately—“ a cough punctuates the statement, tearing at Sylvain’s throat until there’s tears collecting in the corners of his eyes, “—trying my best, here.”

And though Felix ignores that line completely, Sylvain can see his grip tighten around the tricorder sensor, his fingers even paler than normal with the force of it.

It’s not until sometime around Felix’s third call for medical assistance, urgency truly breaking through the forced control of his voice, that Sylvain realizes Felix might actually be afraid. By this point, the shock has really dug its teeth in; Sylvain can feel it in the sluggish processing of each and every thought, in the suddenly erratic and shallow quality of his breathing. That’s why he misses it, probably. Or maybe it’s because fear isn’t really an emotion he’s used to seeing on Felix’s face—a face that, by now, he knows better than his own. Even when they were young, when Glenn was alive and feelings were something Felix still allowed himself to openly show. Once Sylvain knows to look for it, though, it’s obvious. It’s the increasingly aggressive hunch of Felix’s shoulders and the equally painful looking clench of his jaw. It’s the slight shake of his hands that Felix tries to disguise and the contempt that filters across his expression when the tricorder clatters to the ground, useless, beside him. There’s nothing here that Felix can fight back with a well aimed phaser or the Romulan dagger tucked into his boot. Sylvain’s known him long enough; the helplessness is likely eating him alive. 

For that reason alone, Sylvain should say something reassuring. Remind Felix of the pact they made as kids, maybe make some new, equally starry-eyed promises not to die here without him. But that’s the problem with someone like Sylvain: even when it matters—especially when it matters—he can’t. Sylvain has long been convinced the sincerity was never actually in him to begin with. And anyway, it’s always been more effective to be the asshole, hasn’t it? To give the rest of them a reason to direct all that inwardly accumulated anger onto Sylvain instead of themselves. Why bother trying to change that now? 

“Look on the bright side, Felix,” he says, instead. “If I die now, they won’t have anyone to court-martial for killing the captain.” 

It’s an admittedly shitty thing to say, but Sylvain isn’t expecting Felix to recoil as though he’s been struck.

“You thought you—“ Felix starts, frowning even further when he meets Sylvain’s eyes. “You didn’t. He’s stunned.”

And, despite the shock and the pain, Sylvain isn’t far gone enough to miss the relief that pours into his own veins at those words, like a river’s worth of guilt bursting the seams of a downstream dam. 

Sylvain hadn't checked, then. There hadn’t been time for even the thought. He remembers Dimitri, transformed from the straight-backed admiral’s son they'd known from infancy into something ferocious, looming over Felix’s tactical station as the computer counted down the photon torpedo charge. Felix, collapsed on the floor beside the console, strangled sobs of agony escaping his shaking form as he’d clutched at his head. Ingrid had been shouting something while the Professor flitted past in his periphery. But Felix, and all that pain, had been the only thing Sylvain could focus on. There was no thought, only action. 

He’d grabbed for the phaser at his hip. He’d fired. 

And when that did nothing but direct Dimitri’s eyes, unfamiliar and wild like an animal, to Sylvain? 

Well, he’d fired again. 

Back in the present, Sylvain drags his gaze away from Felix in favor of blinking back up at the ceiling. There’s a stinging in the corner of his eyes that he tries gamely to ignore. 

“That—that’s good,” he says around the exhale of one long, shaky breath. “Not sure it’ll make much of a dent in a mutiny charge but I’m—“

Felix interrupts him. “You’re an idiot.”

Sylvain doesn’t argue. With the way Felix says it, quiet and lacking the extent of his usual hostility, he’s not looking for a fight, anyway. “Probably.”

“You shouldn’t have done it.”

But should or shouldn’t doesn’t matter. Sylvain thinks of the little rivulets of blood still trickling over the bony knob of Felix’s wrist from the force of digging his nails into his palms too tight. He can still hear the sound Felix’s body had made crumpling to the ground beside his console, the way Felix’s voice had broken as he’d begged for the pain to stop. It’s something Sylvain is going to be thinking about for a very, very long time. 

He swallows, thick in his ragged throat. “Didn’t have much of a choice.”

“Yes, you fucking did,” Felix insists. He sounds exhausted, the words drawn out of him like a rough sigh. “It was because of me.”

It’s not a question, but Sylvain treats it like one anyway. While he’s fairly sure none of them would’ve enjoyed the consequences if he hadn’t stopped Dimitri from firing on what had then appeared to be a freighter full of civilians, it’s a disingenuous answer. He’d barely thought of those people at all. 

He nods, eyes finding Felix’s face once more. The pain feels distant, now, like his body is somewhere far away from his thoughts. 

“For you,” Sylvain says. The distinction seems important, somehow. “Yeah.” 

For a moment, Felix’s expression goes unreadable, caught somewhere between two emotions that Sylvain can’t easily define. Felix asks, “why?” 

And Sylvain could almost laugh, again. The truth isn’t as simple as the ‘because it’s you’ that appears immediately in his head, but it feels like it should be. Because it always has been Felix, hasn’t it? For nearly twenty-two years, now. The emotions behind it might have changed, but the devotion hasn’t; Sylvain would follow Felix to the very edge of the universe, probably even further, if Felix asked. The circumstances didn’t matter—in the end, he’d choose Felix every time. Over his family, over Starfleet, over Dimitri, especially over himself. How could Felix not know that? 

That kind of sentimentality isn’t something Felix would normally allow. Sylvain decides to say it anyway. 

“You know, for a Betazoid, you really suck at this whole understanding emotions thing,” he says. And then, when Felix’s glare remains stubbornly confused, “I’ve been telling you for years, Fraldarius. You just haven’t been listening.”

What the hell, right? If he somehow manages not to die right here in Felix’s arms, things are going to change whether he wants them to or not. Might as well embrace it with a bit of honesty. Turn over a new leaf, be a better man, all that. And if he does die? Well, it’s better that Felix knows, isn’t it?

But Sylvain doesn’t get the chance. The words are right there, on the very tip of his tongue, when the sound of Manuela’s arrival sweeps through the space between them. The melodic tones of her voice mingled with the whirring of the tricorder and then, just as abruptly, the rush of a hypospray pressed firmly against the raw skin of his neck. 

The last thing Sylvain sees before the darkness of unconsciousness overwhelms him is Felix’s eyes, dark and wide and, finally, understanding. 

It’s the last time Sylvain will step foot onto a starship, the last time he’ll see the blanket of the galaxy stretching out before him on the view screen… and the last time he’ll see Felix. 

Until now. 

[badlandsbandit]

Inspired by the fic ‘At Your Side’ by SuklaaSiili! I’ve been wanting to draw some more Kevjose for a while.

[lunarsturniolo]

Body Shots | Frat!Chris

Not in the same universe as Pillow Talk Chris. Just another Frat!Chris au lol

Thank you @querenciasturniolo for proofreading!! This is longer than most of my fics, and there was no way I'd be able to properly check for mistakes.

I nod slightly, my fingers fidgeting with the button of my pants, “You gotta stop moving,” he says, making me still. 

He hums a nod at my obedience, his mouth widening into a smile, “Look at you,” he says, “So pretty.” 

My hand starts twitching again, a sign of excitement. Chris gently takes my wrist with his free hand and holds it down at my side, “You gotta stop.”

My eyes widened slightly in surprise, and I nodded again. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

Chris nods, “It’s okay. Just stay still,” he teases.

or

Chris teaches Y/N how to take body shots (and it escalates)

Warnings: alcohol use, unprotected sex, oral sex (m and f receiving), praise kink if you squint, cnc if you don’t read carefully. MDNI

Masterlist

“Hi,” I gave a sweet smile over the bar, “Can I please have another shot of tequila?”

Chris was working the bar today. After an overwhelming Wine Wednesday and a slightly unsuccessful mixer on Thursday, he didn’t want to go too overboard at the party his frat was hosting. So, there Chris was, working behind the makeshift bar, pouring shots and distributing Truly’s to the girls who were still there. 

It was nearing 3 am, and the crowd was beginning to die down. Chris overheard my request and nudged the other bartender, “Got it,” he said, effectively switching places with him. 

Chris leans over the bar, his left forearm resting in a few drops of alcohol as he leans closer to me, “You gonna let me take one with you?” 

I look up at him with an innocent smile, “It’s gonna cost you.” 

He barks a laugh in my direction, “You’re literally in my house,” he says. 

I nod, “I am.”

“So you should be giving me somethin’.”

I give Chris a long look and leave a pregnant pause, “I might be open to something.”

Chris pushes himself off the bar and disappears into the kitchen. I take the moment alone to look around the house. I spotted my friend Kylie, whom I lost to a group of girls about 10 minutes ago when No Hands started playing. With a bit of flair, I watch as the DJ starts to play Sexy Bitch, “How fitting,” Chris says, finding his way back to the counter. 

I roll my eyes with a small smile playing on my lips, “What do you want?” 

“Wanna do body shots?” he asks with a smirk playing on his lips. He holds up his right hand. He was still carrying the bottle of Jose Cuervo. But now, in the palm of his hand, I see a lime peeking out. 

My smile falters slightly, “I’ve never done a body shot.”

“Has anyone done one off of you?” He asks. 

I shake my head, Chris’s eyes widening with amusement. “First time for everything,” he mumbles. He reaches under the bar, producing a wild berry Truly and passing it to a girl behind me that I hadn’t noticed. 

“Who said I wanted to do a body shot?” I tease. 

Chris shrugs, “You want to do one. I know you.” 

I fold my lips in on themselves, “Okay. Teach me.”

He smiles victorious. “Do you wanna get on the counter?”

I look around once again. The room, by far, isn’t crowded, but there are people here you know you’re going to see again. 

“Do I have to?” I finally ask, “It’s kinda embarrassing.”

“Why would that be embarrassing?” Chris deadpans. 

“Because everyone can see me.”

“Who the fuck cares?” Chris says, “Now get on the counter, or I’ll spread you out myself.”

I decide it’s in my best interest to get on the counter. I step up into the kitchen before hoisting myself up onto the counter. Chris tells me to lie down, so I oblige. I can feel remnants of the bar from the night staining my bare skin and weighing down my hair. I cringe slightly at the thought before turning to look at Chris, my cheek resting on the cool surface of the bar. 

“So, there are two routes I could go,” Chris begins, “I could pour this into your belly button and take the shot out of there, or I could just use a shot glass and call it a day.” 

My eyes widened, “Yeah, can we do the second one?” 

With a chuckle, Chris nods in agreement. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinkin’, too.” 

He turns around and quarters the lime over the sink. He reaches across the bar, hovering a lime wedge over my face. He taps it gently against the parting of my lips, “Open up for me, yeah?”

I nod and widen my mouth, softly biting into the lime, a bit of juice rolling into the back of my throat, “Good girl,” he commends. 

I roll my eyes, a slight mumble emitting from the back of my throat due to the lime I’m holding, “Shut up,” I tell him.

Chris gently guides my hands down to my sides and nudges my hip, “Can I lift this up a little?” 

I hum a reply, the lime starting to become a proper hindrance. Chris gently tugs at my shirt, making me arch my back so he can lift it to my breasts. My hands itch at my side as he plants a series of wet kisses, making a line from right under my belly button to the waistband of my pants.

A blush forms on my cheeks as his nose nips under my pants, raising the waistband slightly and giving him a view of the black lace panties I had worn to the frat tonight. 

He reaches for the salt behind him, grabs a small pinch of it, and sprinkles it over the slight sheen of saliva that is left behind. “Squeeze my hand if you want to stop,” he tells me, putting my hand in his. 

Using his free hand, he grabs a small orange glass and flips it upright. He laxly pours a double shot of tequila into the glass, watching me wither under his gaze. 

My right hand landed on my stomach, tapping a pattern next to the line of salt, trying my best not to make a mess around me. The music is still going, and I’m sure Kylie is about to text me, telling me she found a guy to go home with. Chris is still distributing drinks to the girls who are coming up to the bar, and I’m sitting with a ball of anticipation in my stomach.

He returns to me with a shy smile, “Sorry, mama, I’m here for real.”

I nod slightly, my fingers fidgeting with the button of my pants, “You gotta stop moving,” he says, making me still. 

He hums a nod at my obedience, his mouth widening into a smile, “Look at you,” he says, “So pretty.” 

My hand starts twitching again, a sign of excitement. Chris gently takes my wrist with his free hand and holds it down at my side, “You gotta stop.”

My eyes widened slightly in surprise, and I nodded again. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

Chris nods, “It’s okay. Just stay still,” he teases. 

He gives me one last look before leaning down, his tongue making contact with my stomach. I flinch at the contact, slightly unexpecting, and Chris looks up at me through his eyelashes. 

I drink in the sight of him, remembering every detail as his hands push me down against the table. His hair has fallen over his eyes, the dark ringlets tickling my stomach with his painfully slow movements. 

Chris lets go of my left wrist, his hand taking hold of the shot he poured. My newly free hand moves without thought, entangling itself into his hair, tugging his further up my body in anticipation. 

He hums out a moan with a taunting smile on his face as his tongue dips into my belly button, lingering for an extra moment. The salt sticks to his tongue as he brings the shot glass up to his lips, wrapping them around the glass before quickly throwing his head back. His jaw flexes as he stretches his neck, and I watch as his Adams Apple moves as he swallows. 

Chris squeezes my hand as he swallows the bitter flavor, his lips coming down for mine to grab the lime. In a moment of weakness, I suck the lime further into my mouth so he has no choice but to graze my lips with his. 

As anticipated, Chris’s lips make lingering contact with mine. His tongue pokes out and wedges itself beneath my lip and into my mouth, grabbing the bottom of the lime and pushing it into his mouth. 

Moving back slightly, I keep him from moving any further with a hand in his hair. With hooded eyes, he looks at me as he bites into the lime, some of the juice falling into my mouth and some of it dripping down his chin in a sensual manner. 

He turns his head slightly, silently asking to move. I let go of his hair, and he turned his head, spitting the lime out of his mouth and onto the kitchen floor. He looks at me with a smile, “Do you still want your shot?” 

“Will it also be a body shot?”

“Whatever you want,” He tells me. 

I pull his hand in between us, guiding his ear to my lips, “What I want is to go to your bedroom.”

Chris looks at me, “Beg me.” 

“Please, Chris, I wanna go to your room.”

He smirks, “Again,” he tsks. 

I roll my eyes in annoyance, “I’m not begging.” 

“Then you’re not getting in my room,” he replies. 

I leave a long pause before letting out a big sigh, “Please, babe? Can you take me to your bedroom?”

He hums in acceptance, “What do you wanna do in the bedroom, mama?” 

I look at him and swallow harshly, “I want you to touch me.”

“But what do you want to do?”

My voice wavers into a whisper, “I want to take a shot off you,” I tell him. 

“Mmmm, that’s a good girl,” Chris says, “Always telling me what you want.” 

I blush, and Chris moves away to start cleaning up the kitchen. I see him gather a new shot glass, a lime, and some salt before helping me off the counter with a hand on the small of my back. 

Together, we walk towards the staircase that’s slightly blocked off- he keeps a hand on the small of my back, nodding a slight hello as we pass his friends. 

He lets me in front of him when we get to the stairs, watching my backside as I make my way up, stopping outside his room and waiting for him to unlock it. 

With a quick twist of his wrist, the key had unlocked his door, and he led me into his bedroom, sitting on his bed with his knees apart. I made my way closer to him, standing between his knees and giving him a shy smile.

“Can you take your shirt off?” I ask him. 

He nods, his hands falling to the hem of his henley, pulling it off in a swift motion, “Where do you want me?” he asks. 

I cock my head as I look at him contemplatively, “Maybe just lay down.” 

He nods and does as I say, “Can I, um-” 

“You want me naked?” he asks.

My cheeks turn hot at his words, “Can I take off your pants?” I ask him. 

He laughs at my shy demeanor, “You gotta get naked for me too, then, ma.” 

Without a second thought, I drop my hands to my jeans, fiddling with the button before allowing them to pool at my ankles. His hands find the hem of my shirt, this time, pulling it over my head gently. He rests his hands on my back before letting me unbuckle his belt.

“Chris,” I whine lightly.

“Yeah?”

Instead of replying, I push him down onto his bed. His head stayed propped up by some pillows, and he brought his hands behind his head so he could watch me. The two of us were naked, and I finally decided to let the looks of him sink in. 

His cock was sporting a healthy erection, just as arousal was beginning to pool between my legs- we were clearly both turned on. 

“C’mere,” he says, motioning for me to step towards him. “Wanna see if my baby’s worked up for me.” 

I happily make my way over to Chris’s head, legs spread slightly for him to feel my cunt. Without a moment's rest, the pads of his fingers made their way to my bare skin, feeling the warm, plush skin and rubbing my clit slightly to create some friction. I moan lightly at his touch before he pulls his fingers away and rests them on my bottom lip. 

“You wanna taste yourself for me, mama?” he asks. 

I dip my chin as a nod, his fingers now resting on the parting of my lips. My tongue darts out at his long digits, coating them lightly as I taste myself on his fingers, making Chris moan in appreciation. 

I hollow out my cheeks before taking his fingers out of my mouth, a small smile growing on my face. 

“Gonna use this on my stomach, okay?” he asks, referring to the fingers I had in my mouth seconds prior. 

Wordlessly, I nod as Chris drags his fingers down his happy trail- from the bottom of his belly button to the base of his cock- at an agonizingly slow pace. My eyes watch his fingers desperately as they mimic the exact path my tongue will take. 

I clear my throat, “Salt?” I ask. 

“Yeah, baby. Add some salt.” 

I took the metal salt shaker that made its way onto his nightstand and used it to disperse salt into a thin line along his body. Chris reaches under his bed and produces a bottle of tequila, “From my stash,” he informs me. 

I laugh, filling up a shot glass most of the way, feeling slightly overwhelmed at the thought of taking another double tonight.

I pick up a lime wedge and hand it to Chris. Dismissively, he sets it back on the table, “You won’t need that. Promise,” he tells me, a hand making its way into my hair and pulling me close to his mouth. 

I can feel his breath fanning on my face as I study his eyes up close for the millionth time tonight, “Okay,” I agree. 

Chris hums with satisfaction, “You’re such a good, obedient girl for me, baby. Always listening to me so well.” 

This time, I hum in reply, the praise making me feel extra warm. “I wanna listen to you, Chris,” I tell him. My lips pucker up slightly before placing a small, aromantic peck on his lips.

He smiles at me, “Good idea, baby.” He lets my hair go loosely, allowing me to lean back. “You’re gonna tell me if anything is too much, right?” he confirms. 

“Yeah, Chris. I’ll let you know. You get to use me until I say otherwise.” 

I watch as a satisfying grin spreads on his face, “You’ve always been my favorite girl, you know?” 

With a small laugh, I bring my face down to be level with his naval. He gathers my hair into a makeship ponytail in one hand and holds my shot glass for me in another, “I need to see you, mama.” 

I smile, my tongue darting out to lick my lips, “Okay.” 

Looking at Chris out of the corner of my eye, I bring my tongue to the beginning of the line of salt, licking slowly down to the base of his cock. My left-hand finds his balls, fondling with them lightly as I make my way down to his cock. 

He lets out a moan, “When you get there, keep your tongue out, baby. I wanna feed you your shot.” 

I turn my head towards him, giving him a slight nod, my tongue still working its way down his body. Giving the base of his cock a light kiss, I tilt my head up for Chris to pour the shot. 

Feeling the alcohol glide down my throat immediately, without the need to swallow or for a chase, made me gag lightly. I closed my mouth, savoring the flavor of salt on my tongue before Chris moved my head. 

Directing me down further to where his cock is, he rests my cheek on his left thigh. My tongue darts out, lapping around the base of his cock as my hand continues to play with his balls. 

“That’s right, baby,” he praises me, “You can get up on the bed if you want.” 

With a nod, I crawl up onto the bed, my mouth moving from the base to the tip. 

I begin slowly licking the tip, watching the precum develop, and swallowing it as it comes. With a keen fascination, I loosen my jaw and begin to put his cock into my mouth. 

Chris lets out a groan, “Fuck.” He reaches around his body, one hand finding my breasts. He rolls my nipple between his fingers and fondles my breasts, eliciting a soft moan from the back of my throat and around his tip.

I continue to push his cock into my mouth before I gag lightly and call it my limit. My hand jerks off what is left outside my mouth, and Chris begins to lose it. 

His hands are tugging at my hair, and he is gently pushing my head forward onto his cock, loving the way my throat closes around the tip when I gag. Chris was in a state of euphoria. 

“You good, mama?” he chokes out, pulling me off his cock slightly for reassurance. 

Instead of verbally answering, I push his cock further into my throat, humming a reply, sending vibrations up through his body. 

My tongue flatted against the underside of his cock, my head moving faster as I prompted Chris to fuck my mouth. His thrusts grew from wary to forceful as I began to gag, drool, and moan around him with each movement he made. 

Tears grew at the brim of my eyes from the intensity, “Do you like it when I’m rough with you, mama?” 

Unable to reply, I affectionately squeeze his thigh, “I know, baby. It feels so good to please me, huh?” he says. His hand leaves my nipple, entangling it into my head roughly so he has more control to ride out his orgasm.

With an especially deep thrust, I let out a long groan, my eyes rolling back slightly with satisfaction. Chris’s cock begins to twitch in my mouth, and I instinctively hollow out my cheeks, sucking harshly on his shaft. 

Chris looks down at me with a smile, “I’m close, mama, I promise. Then I’ll fuck you good as a thank you.”

I nod, my voice significantly hindered by his cock lodged in my throat. With a final few thrusts from Chris and a gargling noise that arose from my mouth, he emptied himself into my mouth with a loud, resonating moan. 

Giving me a minute to recover, he slid his cock out from my mouth and found a water bottle on his nightstand to feed me. 

With a smile, I look at him, “I love having your cock in my mouth.” 

With a small laugh, he rests his hand under my chin, wiping away some cum that didn’t quite make it into my mouth, “I love fucking your mouth, baby.” 

I bite my lip in excitement, allowing him to use me as he chooses one again. 

“Lie down, hmm?” he asks. 

I do as I'm told, taking his spot on the bed as he straddles my body. He leans down towards the mattress, his lips finding my cunt. I can feel his breath fan across my body as he begins to lap his tongue in a circular pattern, hitting each part of my cunt. 

Unceremoniously, his teeth begin to nip at my clit, creating the perfect amount of friction to make me moan out loud- probably loud enough to be heard over the music playing downstairs.

“Chris, please,” I beg.

“What, mama?” he asks, coming up for air with a small pant. His lips were wet and puffy from the time he spent attacking my clit, and I could see a bit of my arousal begin to make its way down his chin. 

“I need you inside me, please,” I whimper. 

Chris hums, sending my hips upward with a jolt. The action makes him laugh, which in turn does not help my squirming, “I’ll get inside ya,” he promises. 

With one last feathery kiss to my clit, he sends a series of kisses up from my naval to my lips. By the time he has reached my lips, there are drops of my cum trailing up my body as a result of my cum dripping off Chris’s chin. 

He leaves a few soft kisses on my lips before I bring his head to mine, holding it there while I nip at his bottom lip. He smiles, sliding his tongue into my mouth and allowing me to take control of the kiss as he adjusts himself against me. 

I feel the tip of his cock poking at my entrance before he slowly buries it into my cunt. I let out a gasp, my jaw falling slack as Chris’s tongue laps at the inside of my mouth, trying to regain my attention. 

“C’mon, mama, I know you can take me,” he tells me. 

“I can take you,” I parrot back. 

“Yeah, baby,” Chris agrees, “You’re doing so good.” 

He stills for a moment, and I look down between us to see his cock has filled me completely, and he’s allowing me a moment to adjust. I grind my hips against him, my clit rubbing against the base of his cock, making both of us groan. 

Looking back up at him, I give him a quick peck of encouragement to start thrusting again. He gently rolls his hips before slowly pulling out and roughly pushing back in. 

He began to make this a rhythmic approach, filling the silence between his skin and slapping on yours with a series of breathy moans and chants of both of your names filling the room. 

Chris kept his mouth atop mine and intertwined our fingers as he continued to fuck me.

My mouth fell open, and I felt my pussy begin to quiver around his large cock. My orgasm was blinding, leaving me gasping and moaning into Chris’s mouth, giving him ammunition to go faster and harder.

With his bed rocking underneath us and the sound of wet skin repeatedly hitting each other, Chris finally released into my tender pussy. 

Pulling out slowly, his hand brought mine to his mouth, leaving feathery kisses on each knuckle. 

“You okay, mama?” he asks, “Do you need me to get you anything?”

With a shrug, I reply, “Can I please have another shot of tequila?”

[doggernaut]

#19 for the ask game!

19. What headcanon do you always include in your stories?

Headcanons! I love them! I have a few. Some I explicitly include and others often (always?) inform my writing, even if they aren't mentioned on page. Here are a few favorites:

Jack Zimmermann is bi and demisexual. Full stop.

Suzanne and Coach Bittle aren't bad, homophobic parents. They are maybe a little clueless and awkward, but they want the best for Bitty and once he comes out to them they accept him. This is a little tangential, but I will always believe that that scene of Suzanne telling Bitty that she wants him to come home for the rest of the summer after he comes out to her would take place even if Bitty were straight and his partner were female. My read on her is that as the mother of an only child, she's terrified somebody is going to come along to take her son away from her. I think (and canon backs me up: see Coach and Jack reacting to the jam argument in Christmas in Madison) Coach is more awkward but ultimately more easy going, and ends up really being the voice of reason/ally Bitty (and Jack) need over the years when dealing with Suzanne. I've incorporated this into a few different fics.

Bitty can be his own worst enemy. He makes a lot of assumptions about how people perceive him and it often gets him in trouble (or, at the very least, causes unnecessary stress). This character trait is established in canon ("Jack hates me." "My parents will reject me if they know the truth about me.") and it's fun to play with it in fic.

Jack, in retirement, has a dad bod. Look, twenty-five-year-old professional athlete Jack Zimmermann, with abs that can grate cheese, is the subject of twenty-year-old Bitty's very detailed fantasies and exactly what he wants at that point in his life. But forty-something-retired Jack, who has nothing left to prove, is comfortable enough in his own skin to relax a little and has a body that reflects his life with Bitty (dessert every night). That Jack is the subject of forty-something-Bitty's very detailed fantasies and exactly what he wants at this point in their lives. He's the dad all the kids and pets want to cuddle with and is still strong enough to carry all the kids to bed at once. Still strong enough to carry Bitty to bed. It should be assumed that this softer Jack is the Jack that shows up in any fic I write in which he's no longer playing professional hockey, even if not explicitly stated. (Related: Bitty has a much harder time with getting older and frequently needs Jack's reassurance that he still finds him attractive. I think Bitty's logic about this is something like: "I know Jack loves me and finds me attractive BUT he didn't notice me that way until after I cut my hair and started eating protein and doing all the squats, so even though aging is inevitable, if I don't maintain that standard he's going to stop finding me attractive." See: what I wrote earlier about Bitty making a lot of unfounded assumptions about what others think of him.)

Jack's anxiety comes from Alicia. Look at Alicia's eyes in 24 Hour Celly. Those are Jack's anxiety eyes. (I know those links go to the whole comic not the exact panels but they're there, I promise.) I'm currently working on something that digs deeper into this headcanon.

Tater + Vanessa Channel 7 = 4 Eva. Why? It just feels right.

Oh, and one more. I know a lot of people headcanon Chowder as being from San Francisco proper but I have always headcanoned him as being from San Jose and growing up playing youth hockey with the club affiliated with the Sharks.

Thank you for this question! This is probably way more than you were asking for!

[razornioccam]

elibarra comic with 19k likes on twitter LETS GOO ELIBARRA NATION!!! this just reactivated something dormant in my brain

you guys dont get how important elibarra is to me personally. filipino has consistently been my lowest subject since elementary and i rarely ever spoke tagalog (typical 'englishera' lol got teased for it relentlessly). you know what sparked my love for the language??? fucking elibarra . OF ALL THINGS .

i got so invested in them that i started to seriously learn and speak my native tongue because i wanted to fully analyze their interactions. i wanted to have enough knowledge to be able to compare the filipino texts to their english translations, to see if there was any nuance lost (or gained) in their conversations with each other. i hunted down every translation i could find of the boat scene and when i found the one that translated one of the lines to "because you are not made to suffer" i went batshit insane. i had all of their scenes together (and all of the elias scenes bc i love him) fully tabbed and annotated, highlights and side comments and everything. read my first fic written in tagalog because i desperately needed more of them.

got my highest grade in filipino in grade 9 and have since gotten better at speaking the language both formally and casually. from there, i learned to love the overall history and culture because it stopped feeling like a chore. because thats what elias wouldve wanted for me!!!

tldr doomed yaoi so good it sparked a personal revolution within me

now we wait for the annual boost in popularity whenever the grade 9/10s reach their 3rd and 4th quarter. noli me tangere is an incredible book you guys!! if focusing on elibarra is what it takes for yall to lock tf in and really get into it (like i did) then do it! you'll eventually learn to appreciate what jose rizal had to say in the story (and that he really Really loves elias LMAO)

[peachhcs]

what up coming fics do you have? love your writing 😁

aww thanks so much!! here’s what i have semi-planned that’s mostly for the will smith au:

- samy talking with gabe and ryan at will’s farewell party about what she should do if she should take will back or not so immediately (i’m getting them back together relatively soon even though the breakup lasts until the end of summer ish)

- i did write a bit of an explicit fic a while back in my drafts that i’m wondering if i should post (guys pls tell me if u wanna read that idk😭)

- the getting back together fics will come in the order of samy going to san jose to help will decorate his new apartment, him and samy on their date and then getting back together

- someone also requested to write about samy and her brothers at the NHL awards so that should be coming soon!

- i am hoping to finally update my gabe perreault au soon so keep an eye out for that!

- i also wrote a little fic/in the process of writing a fic about samy visiting quinn in vancouver over the summer to kind of “escape the breakup”

- plus anything else that you guys request!!

i’m sorry i haven’t been as active, i’ve been busy these past few weeks, but i am working on everything!!! ❤️‍🩹

[auspex]

VtM Fangfest 2024 Prompt : The Empress

Hello! Here is my fourth fic for Fangfest 2024 :)

All my fics will be about characters that are previously established, so you might not have context for everything mentioned or hinted at within :( Feel free to reach out to ask I love explaining!

I've never really posted my writing before so be kind!

my first fic is here

my second fic is here

my third fic is here

This fic is about a Nosferatu from the game I am the storyteller for, Blood and Silicon, which has its own blog run by the player @chiss-ticism here: @sanguineasylum. This one was a bit rushed so perhaps less well proof-read as the others D:

Van lazily threw a paper plane towards the garbage. “Now Vic,” she flicked one of her hoop earrings as she spoke; “I understand what he’s askin’ me to do. What I’m not sure about is if this one is worth the risk, and the time. We’re busy these nights, you know that.”  

Rubbing his face profusely, though expertly avoiding the open boils that covered his skin, Vic spoke through his hands. “Ugh. Look. Don’t kill me Van.” 

“The hell does that mean.” 

“Ok so,” he crossed his arms in front of his chest protectively. “We get the usual payment, a promising contact in LA, and we fuck over the Ventrue. And I uhm, kind of accidentally already said we’d do it.” 

Van’s voice was gravel. Even more so than usual. “Hand me the fucking file. Then get out.” 

“Thanksyou’rethebest bye!” 

She didn’t have to tell him twice. 

Flipping through it, the request seemed routine. The only trouble was who it was for. But hey, no one said this shit would be easy. Van wouldn’t let Vic know it, but she would have agreed anyways. 

So many kindred wanted to travel to LA these nights, ever since the anarch foothold there solidified. Smuggling those who were being hunted by the Camarilla to LA and getting them properly embedded was just one of the many services the Nosferatu of San Jose provided, and Van was the essential head of operations. Once they made it to her, only the last leg of the journey was left. 

It was straight down the freeway to LA. Any would-be Camarilla pursuers knew it, and if their quarry got this far, they tended to become desperate. 

Now, getting there was only half the battle, but Van handled everything - the trip, and getting settled. An all inclusive package, to those who would pay the cash, and be a source of intel for the Nosferatu for the next 2 decades of their unlives. After doing it for a decade, Van knew practically as much going on in LA as she did in San Jose. 

She drummed her long fingernails on her desk as she read through the profile. “Richard, Hoàng’s sire, huh.” Surprising. Richard had embraced Hoàng in San Jose and clearly was positioning him to work closely with promising up-and-comers. Such a long term strategy would imply Richard wasn’t leaving anytime soon. 

But it seems his past was catching up with him. Richard’s sire, Anthony, had recently awoken for torpor, and was not pleased with Richard’s defection. Those Cammie Ventrue had a reputation to uphold and all that. San Jose was far from New Orleans, his native city, but LA was even further from the Camarilla’s reach.  

Oh, fuck you Vic. And here was the kicker. 

Richard didn’t just want an introduction and safe passage to LA. He wanted his death faked, and assurance that the Nosferatu would corroborate his final death to any-would be investigators. 

Still, a deal could always be sweetened. Van smiled. Perhaps this actually presented an opportunity.

~

“Richard. Thanks for coming by.” 

“Of course. Thanks for having me. You have a lovely office. I like, erm, your posters.”

Van turned her head to look. Her tiger posters were striking, she had to admit. 

“Yeah. Yeah. Preciate’ it or whateva. Didn’t have you come by to show you my decor though.” 

The well-dressed Ventrue nodded and clasped his hands in front of them, laying them on the desk. He spoke in a slight Yat accent. “But of course. We can get down to business. How were you considering handling my proposal?” 

“Oh well, yanno.” She tilted her head deeply to the left, casually leaning and resting her head on her hand. “It’s not the most ridiculous thing I’ve considered. Pretty close to acceptable, actually.” 

Richard raised his eyebrows, but kept a congenial smile. “I thought it was found to be acceptable already?” 

“Look Richie. I dunno, I guess you twisted Vic’s arm about it, god knows it isn’t hard to, but if you want a job done right, it betta be worth my while. I’ll do it, but if you want a real convincin’ death? Let’s bring Hoàng into it.” 

His smile dropped. “You might need to do some explaining.” 

“It’s simple. Despite what you’ve done for him, proppin’ him up or whateva’, and despite keepin’ him bonded, anyone with a brain can see he resents you for forcing him to cut ties with his kid early. He’s barely a neonate.” 

“I can see where you’re going with this. Perhaps.” 

“No, ya don’t, I’m not done. I reach out to him, I cut a deal with him - say I’ll get ya killed, and keep his hands clean. Now we got a paper trail of the death. If your old man comes around, we accidentally leak the info.” Van accentuated the word ‘accidentally’ with air quotes quite dramatically with her unnaturally long nails. “Plus, Hoàng now owes the Nos for doin’ nothing we wouldn’t have done anyways, so we all benefit. I can arrange it. You don’t gotta worry bout’ a thing Richie. I just need ya to confirm some things about him… and provide somethin’ to prove-” again, accentuated by air quotes- “we got your ass.” 

“This could work. And please, call me Richard.” 

~

“Oh, Vic, it is good t’have a reputation. A lesser kindred could have never pulled that deal off. Now, when ya meet with Hoàng, be real nice, okay?” 

“I always am, Van.” 

“Ya, I know, that was sarcasm. Fuckit man, get meaner. Make sure he really feels like he owes us - Richie here positioned him well, let’s get that intel. Now get out.”  

Van turned before Victor could reply and returned to her spreadsheet on the computer screen. She didn’t much care for technology, but with the amount of cash she had… well, it definitely was easier to use than a physical calculator. 

Cobbling together fake IDs took lots of money. Bribing anarchs to accept Ventrue in LA cost extra. Vic really should have charged this asshole more. 

[neverendingsourceofmystery]

Sailing Close to the Wind|| One: Chasing Rainbows and Spinning Dreams

*takes a deep breath* *opens laptop* *blows ever so softly*

*coughs*

Hello everyone, I bet you didn't think I would ever come back to write more Downton stuff. Maybe an update from me isn't in your 2024 bingo card. Not gonna lie, I'm just as surprised as you are. I've been gone for far longer than I ever was here, but I guess, prodigal children always find their way home.

YES. This is an update. I know.

In light of the new movie announcement, I made a trip down memory lane, and was inspired by one of my old fics. Not that my writing from five years ago was ever inspiring, really. Anyway, it was supposed to be a one shot, and so I felt like I was in under no obligation to add more, but add more, I shall do.

*steadfastly ignores the 300 other cobert fanfics I am supposed to update*

To my surprise as well as yours, this one had an interesting and very polite demand for more, and honestly, if I wasn't so neck deep in law school, I would have given this a go earlier. Of course, I chose the most inopportune time -- when I'm in over my head, drowning, in bar review and prep -- to finish this piece. But whatever. It was therapeutic. I do suggest you read the prologue first, again -- here or here-- because I doubt any of you still remember this. This one's a long one that I just had to get out of my system, because studying about my country's system is the equivalent of pouring bleach all over my brain.

I would like to say as early as now however, that as I have already mentioned earlier, I am in the middle of bar prep, so the updates are probably going to be few and far in between, if at all, towards the middle of this year. Not that it's anything new where I'm concerned. But I shall endeavor to finish before the end of year or the end of the world, at least, whichever comes first.

.::.

One

Chasing rainbows and Spinning Dreams

"Can it possibly beThe future for me is you…Wait until I can tell you all my schemesChasing rainbows spinning dreamsTell me please your name”  - Tell me your name, Jose Mari Chan

The silence in the room was so loud that one could hear a pin drop – as the old adage went, anyway, – and for one brief second, Cora found herself questioning if her boss was all right in the head. Maybe she had lost her mind after all the stress and was now clinically insane. 

That, after all, was the only logical explanation to her even remotely suggesting this.

Cora looked away from her boss, wondering what she should do or say next, when her gaze met the eyes of the man on the other side of the room. Robert, that’s what Rosamund said, but Cora already knew that. There was nary a soul in this entire company who didn’t. He rarely made any appearance, but he’s never missed one company party and his name was always on everybody’s lips. 

Cora could still – though she would never say it out loud or admit it – remember the first time she had seen the esteemed Mr. Robert Crawley. It had been during her first company Christmas party. She was new, a new hire fresh from her internship, and she’d been so young and so infatuated by the piercing blue eyes that barely looked her way even once in the party. He’d been caught up, talking to the big wigs, to his sister, and their other colleagues and didn’t have time for the little Miss Americana that was Cora. Not that Cora had minded very much, she was content with sipping her wine and admiring Mr. Crawley from afar. 

He was handsome and his laugh was loud and boisterous, although hardly offensive. He spoke to Mr. Carson and his wife, Mrs. Elsie Hughes-Carson, who both worked with them at the company, like they were old friends – with respect and authority, but with clear affection. Cora could have only hoped, at that time, to be treated the same.

Now, here she was, sitting in the office of her boss, having been just told that she should marry the CEO of the company she’s working for so she can stay in London. She felt like she needed more ruminating about the “brilliant idea” of the boss in question, but she figured there wasn’t really even enough time to ruminate that. It was insane. That, in her mind, should count as a red flag right? That her boss was insane?

“Well?” Rosamund started to speak, though she looked just a little bit nervous, or anxious, or maybe it was self-realization – Cora could only hope for the last. “It’s such an unmusical way of putting things, brother.” She cleared her throat and nodded anyway. Clearly, any hopes of sanity were dashed at this point. “I was suggesting a convenient marriage with a deadline…if you’re amenable, of course.”

More here or here.

[kittievampire]

REQUESTS OPEN.

A friend of mine told me that the shit I write alone is too little, too boring, so I decided to fuck his dad. I also decided to open up a little request box. Shoot me an inbox to see what diamonds I have in my bag!

Masterlist

Obey Me

I will literally write almost anything for my bois.

CHARACTER RESTRICTIONS

Mephistopheles, Thirteen, and Raphael

Though I believe STRONGLY that Raphael should be dominated and reduced to nothing but tears and whimpers, I just don't think I know enough about him to capture his character somewhat properly

Same goes for the other two

SMUT

I'm a kinky bitch, so you won't be judged for submitting literally anything

I'll only be able to write female or GN reader, sorry boys

I wanna stick to what I know, and looking at my double x chromosomes, I think I only know a girl's bod

I'm also really fucked up in the head, so if you wanna be choked half to death by Belphie SAME

I won't do scat, piss, gore, or vore tho, sorry to the freakishly freaky freaks out there

If there's anything I'm uncomfortable with writing, I'll most likely lyk

That and if the concept is nice but it's just that one thing, I'll ask for an alteration

Don't be shy to request some rough shit though, I think we all wanna have rough hate-sex with Satan, it's fine, I get it

Absolutely will not write any smut about Luke, that's just a no-no altogether. Even when he's a grown-up and good-looking, he'll still be our lil chihuahua

Seriously, if you request Luke, I will respond with this

ANGST

Uhhhh

There's a limit to how angsty you can get?

I guess cheating's the only thing that's a bit iffy for me (that Satan and Lucifer fic was a one-time thing, I can't put myself through that again)

Other than that, I'll lyk if there's anything I'm uncomfortable with writing. Same as smut rule applies here.

FLUFF AND HCS

Lol ain't no restrictions here bub

I kill for sappy moments with my bois

I will literally do anything, I don't think you can go wrong with this area (watch y'all's asses prove me wrong omg)

I'll take any hc you think of. For spicy head canons, same rules as smut apply here

Overlord

I've started fiddling with the idea of writing some stuff about our dearest floor guardians, so I think I wouldn't mind too much writing some stuff about them

CHARACTER RESTRICTIONS

Just know that I haven't read the manga, but am planning to, so anyone who isn't present in the anime isn't going to be around

SMUT

Once again, I feel it should be mentioned, I'm a kinky bitch

I'll do just about anything short of scat, piss, gore, vore, etc.

For these, I'll mainly do a female reader, sorry fellas, just wanna stick to what I know til I think I know what I don't

Will NOT write anything about Aura, Mare, or any other under-age characters in the smut category. They're still kids. No.

Will NOT write anything about non-humanoid (enough) characters

Aka, hamsuke is a no, lizardmen are a no, anything/anyone related is a no

ANGST

Nothing to say here, I have no limits until someone suggests something truly traumatizing

FLUFF & HCS

No limits, don't think you can go wrong with these

Same rules apply as smut for the spicy hcs

Persona 5

This was an impulsive add because I was so pissed that they wouldn't let me date Yusuke in the game, so I wanna imagine that I can.

CHARACTER RESTRICTIONS

I've only played Persona 5 Royal and watched the anime, so anyone not present in either will not be written about

SMUT

I will NOT write about Futaba, Jose, or Shinya for this section, that is a NO

Other than that, request whatever you want for this section. Once more, I'm a kinky bitch. And I'm in love with Yusuke 🥰🥰🥰

Gore, vore, piss, scat, etc. will not be written about, sorry freakishly freaky freaks

Once more, for these, it will be only female or GN reader. Sorry, fellas

ANGST

Anything short of cheating here would be nice

No real limitations here

FLUFF & HCS

Can't go wrong here, everyone's welcome

Anything's welcome

Same rules apply as smut for the spicy hcs

Twisted Wonderland

I think I'm ready to start writing for this fandom, but I'm still relatively new so bear with me please

CHARACTER RESTRICTIONS

Che'nya and Silver are the only characters I don't feel I know enough about

These are VERY temporary restrictions, though! I promise I'll educate myself soon to remove these restrictions!

SMUT

For this section, I will NOT write anything about Ortho. Yeah, no. he's too precious ;w;

Once more, feel free to request anything short of scat, piss, gore, and vore

I also strongly believe that some of these characters deserve to be topped to tears or should top the reader to tears, so you'll probably see some favoritism with some of the Housewardens (my beloveds)

Female or GN reader for this section! Sorry, guys.

ANGST

No real limitations here. No cheating would be nice tho

FLUFF & HCS

No limits here

Same rules for smut apply for the spicy hcs

THIS FANDOM SECTION WILL BE CHANGED PERIODICALLY, AND MORE FANDOMS WILL BE ADDED TO THE LIST AS I BECOME MORE COMFORTABLE WRITING FOR THEM

Additional Notes

If I don't reply immediately, I'm most likely being fucked sideways by life and don't have the time

Doesn't mean I don't love you guys tho 💙

I will also be prioritizing Kin of the Demon Prince, or whatever other fic I may write in the future if I'm finished with that one, just be aware

If you tell me to surprise you, I'm gonna make whatever I pull outta my ass a complete self-indulgence, and you'll be the one to blame for it, sorry kiddo

If ya wanna just ask a question regarding my thoughts on certain things, my story Kin of the Demon Prince/other fics I may write, or myself (no personal stuff, just shit having to do with fandoms), I'll gladly answer them, just shoot me a question

Still trippin over the fucking my friend's dad bit?

Don't worry, jeez, I didn't fuck his dad, relax 🙄

I fucked his mom.

I'll be your dealer, come down to my alleyway (inbox) and see what kind of diamonds I have in my bag, I'll be waiting~

[ellieellieoxenfree]

22, 24, 25

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

canon is not always great at doing this either, but trauma and disability. i look at some of my faves — rita farr, josee, vegas theerapanyakul, ai di, hartley rathaway, teresa mendoza, rita west — and they’re fucking absolute messes, all defined by some brutal shit. their respective canons have handled this with varying degrees of sensitivity (you know exactly who i’m subtweeting) and i don’t participate in all of the fandoms for these pieces of media, but i turn into an absolutely wild beast when people gloss over that because it’s too much of a challenge to include. people who faced years of childhood abuse or who were suddenly confronted with an unexpected, uncontrollable loss of autonomy are going to struggle with those things. one of these characters got shot multiple times in the abdomen, for chrissakes. and people are like ‘idk i guess he can have a marathon fuck sesh it’s cool this won’t interfere with his life in any way’ like YES IT WILL YES IT IS FUCKING PERMANENT, DIANE. there are physical effects and limitations that never go away. there is an ongoing, volatile sense of loss that will body you over and over again for the rest of your life. i love josee for tapping into the anger of disability (you know how i feel about my best girl) but i also love characters whose canons force them to grapple with a reality thrust upon them at a point in their lives when they can draw a clear delineation between Me Before and Me Now, rather than those who have never known the grief of your bodily function being ripped from you unexpectedly. and that isn’t just disability. that’s betrayal and abuse and loss of security and stability and identity. and if you can’t actually deal with the whole of a character’s raw ugly misery and anger on top of the fun fluffy bits to read or write then MAYBE the messes are not your arena.

24. topic that brings up the most rancid discourse

ooooh i’m gonna get canceled for this one but i will block people who get into internet slapfights about gender and sexuality. i’m an old shithead so i find the trend of needing to affix 500 microlabels to every character exhausting, especially in canons where none of these people would have the remotest fucking idea what you’re banging on about. and further, i find it extremely off-putting when a male character expresses traits that aren’t in lockstep with stereotypical or toxic masculinity and immediately gets painted as trans. i see one of these essays where you spend 10k assigning things to a character that are really just you projecting your own identity onto your fave and onto the blocklist you go. some of y’all make me miss fucking kinnies.

i also cannot fucking abide ship wars, because i came from a fandom where people got so mad about a pairing taking up too much screen time they engineered a plot to ruin a real person’s career over it (that was wave one of the bullshit, but i digress). i have watched that shit happen for years and years and yeaaaars — usagi/mamoru and seiya/usagi fans used to throw temper tantrums at each other like they were getting paid to, way back in the day — and it has never gotten any less noxious. it has, in fact, just gotten fucking worse with the increasing curdling of twitter and stan culture. it was bad enough when it was just screaming at each other over which boring girl harry potter should bone but now people have let that shit spill into the real world. now it’s just a normal thing to try to affect someone’s careers, or discuss your rpf ships in front of the people involved. FUCKING BOUNDARIES. LEARN THEM. RESPECT THEM. what the fuck is wrong with you people. stop sharing your fics with them or tagging them in your art. and yes, that even goes for bryan fuller. just because he’s a freak who probably beat off to all the hannibal/will art you sent him doesn’t mean you should have sent it in the first place.

25. common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

since you’re my BTS buddy…i wish for a meteorite to strike everyone who identifies as an army because if i’m stupid enough to go into the tag, 99% of the posts are ‘hybe/bighit is out to sabotage (fave’s) career’ or ’this is why (ship) is the only truth and everyone else is a dirty sinner going to hell for wrongthink’ and holy shit TAKE A MIKE’S HARD LOOK AT YOURSELVES FOR FIVE MINUTES. if you are so deeply invested in the sex lives of some random korean guys that you are getting legitimately angry at other people on the internet about them not thinking your preferred boy is making the sign of the two-backed aardvark with your other preferred boy, log off. go the fuck outside. i’m not above cracking jokes but some of y’all are rolling out the murderboards and obsessively documenting every single moment their faves happen to be in the same area of the stage to explain why one of them moving their little finger an inch to the right means he’s gonna get his ass eaten after the show.

the career sabotage shit i don’t even know, understand, or care to know. i see it in the tag fucking constantly and it exhausts me. i need to not engage in baseless conspiracy theories. i’m not here for this. just like i’m not here to figure out who in the group is taking a ride on the humpatron 3000, i’m not here to go through a million posts on 50 social media sites every day combing every single word choice for evidence that my faves are one wrong step from being put to death by bighit management. i just want to enjoy myself for five goddamn minutes.

as a very casual new fan, my experience has been 1% gifs of people whose faces and talent i enjoy and 99% screeching harridan drama whose point entirely eludes me. i hate all of these people. i hope they fall into the ocean. maybe the fish will be a more receptive audience than i am.

[cruyffista]

Hi can you rec some fics please 😊

fic recs below the cut!

Squirm - atria - Men's Football RPF [Archive of Our Own] (alessandro nesta/paolo maldini)

As Far as You and Me Go - distira - Football RPF [Archive of Our Own] (pep guardiola/jose mourinho) (<- in my opinion this is the greatest football rpf fic i've ever read)

Don't write any name in the sand - MrBK - Football RPF [Archive of Our Own] (alessandro nesta/paolo maldini)

words alone are vain and vacant (and my heart is mute) - SixPonderous - Football RPF [Archive of Our Own] (pep guardiola/jose mourinho)

The Cynics - rainhat - Men's Football RPF [Archive of Our Own] (paolo rossi/antonio cabrini)

The El Siete Chronicles - Guede - Football RPF [Archive of Our Own] (luis figo/pep guardiola)

Put the Gun Into Your Mouth to Bite - justkisa - Football RPF [Archive of Our Own] (joe hart/costeel pantilimon)

[mirrortouchedsea]

ES Rarepair Week 2023 Day 2: Childhood/AU

Pairing: Madara Mikejima/Tatsumi Kazehaya

Word count: 663

Notes: So uhm. I'm trying to write in the style of Jose Saramago because I've been reading the Gospel According to Jesus Christ so this is literally two big paragraphs and I am sorry but it was a lot of fun to write so! This will hopefully be part of a much larger fic continuing in this style so it will definitely be and feel unfinished. Enjoy!

---

Since Tatsumi Kazehaya was a young boy, he knew he had to hide his faith. His parents had instilled in him a sense of fear since birth, that they were persecuted for their beliefs and he should never tell anyone about them. Hide yourself so you can continue to praise the Lord. Tatsumi didn’t understand this very well, but he continued to remove his religious iconography whenever he left the house, hanging up a cross necklace by the door before he left, but that’s something we can look at later. For now, we see Tatsumi Kazehaya as a young boy, on one of the rare days out with his family. They are going to a local aquarium that he had seen a pamphlet for a few weeks ago. What’s an aquarium, he asked his parents. It’s where they keep sea animals on land. But don’t they die without water? They keep them in tanks and take care of them, so don’t worry. Okay. He would pull out the pamphlet and look at it, trying to read the complicated words on the page before giving up. He was only five years old, after all, we shouldn’t expect him to be able to read something as complicated as this. His father picked it up and read out the names of some of the advertised exhibits. Squids, dolphins, sharks, seahorses. There are horses in the sea? They’re named that because their heads look like horses.

Tatsumi is holding his father’s hand as they walk through the aquarium, pointing out some of the different animals mentioned in the pamphlet. Tatsumi presses his face to the glass tank as children are known to do and follows a large and slow fish with his eyes. There are many brightly colored fish dancing around it, but Tatsumi’s eyes are glued to the large and slow one and he doesn’t notice as the crowd around him shifts and changes until he pulls away and realizes his father is nowhere to be found. Tatsumi’s heartbeat pounds in his chest as he tries to find a familiar face in a sea of strangers until he runs into another child. He looks about the same age as Tatsumi and he relaxes instantly. Are you lost, the other boy asks, grabbing Tatsumi’s hand and pulling him away from the crowd. I think so. Who were you here with? My mom and dad. What do they look like? My dad has hair like mine, he points to his head of mint green hair, and my mom has the same eyes. He talks a little too mature for his age, but then again, so does the boy who found him. Can you tell me your name, Tatsumi asks. Madara, and yours? Tatsumi. Nice to meet you Tatsumi-san. Madara pulled Tatsumi around again, walking through the different tunnels like he knew the place well. Do you live in the aquarium, Tatsumi asks as they pass through another room filled with fish. No, but I’m friends with the owner’s son. Is he nice? He’s interesting, but I don’t know if nice is a word to describe him. How so? If you met him you’d know. Can I meet him? Maybe someday, but they keep him pretty guarded. Tatsumi didn’t say anything after that and instead pondered why a child like him would be kept under such close watch, though he might realize he was in a similar situation if he had any awareness of how different his childhood was from most. It took a few more turns through some less crowded rooms before Madara finally stopped, hand still holding Tatsumi’s. Where are we? Somewhere we can wait for your family. How will they find me? Well don’t you ask a lot of questions. Wouldn’t you? I guess. So how will my parents find me? They just will, I don’t know how it works but they’ll find you here. Will you wait with me? I’m not supposed to. Can you? 

[thisisdefinitelyacreativename]

Are you hillay17? I've searched your pseudo, and this is the Tumblr that showed up.

Nearly every days, I visit the Edelgard tag unfiltered on AO3, witnessing in the process the come and go of hundreds of fic. But one day, as I was browsing my little AO3 tab like usual, a tittle caught my eye... "An evil wizard cursed my dick". I have read thousands of fic tittle before, tittle from all kinds of fic and I have to say none have made me laugh before. And damn, I must tell you that for someone who "Hates doing tags" you're pretty good at them, they certainly made me laugh too.

This could have ended there, a funny tittle with funny tags, but no. Time passed, and as the days went I continued my never ending exploration of this damned Edelgard tag. It wasn't fun, there's a lot of shit going on the Edelgard tag. It was a bit depressing, having to rummage through hundreds of "Burning kitten alive" fic of your favorite character, seeing torture and revenge rape of them, all just to find treasure buried under this ship wreck. But amongst this dark sea in merciless ocean of Archive of Your Own, there was a lighthouse: "An evil wizard cursed my dick". Everytime a chapter was uploaded I was there to see it, my innocent eyes reaching once again the sight of the blasphemous Ferdinand von Aegir/Sylvain Jose Gautier/Hubert von Vestra ( the latter would approve the usage of the term ). And it made me smile. It was just so nice, to see regularly a fanfic amongst it all that was was just fun... You cannot imagine my joy when you published that sequel. It's amazing how a simple fic description can make one laugh.

Amongst all this story I have to say that as an asexual lesbian who is not particularly into such thing as "Orgasm control" and "Spanking" ( no judgment though 🫡 ), I have never read your fics. And while admitably I am very tempted to do so now, I'm not sure I ever will. But I've to admit I think I really grew attached to them.

So from one of your non-reader, thank you, you're funny as hell ❤️

Honestly , there are quite a lot of sex scenes in this story so I completely understand the hesitation! But I'm sooooo happy to see you liked it in THEORY, and a little frightened that you found me on here even though I probably just linked it somewhere and forgot. I'm a little bit dumb like that.

But if you ARE into such a thing as this, readers, go check me out https://archiveofourown.org/users/hillay17

I'm gonna keep posting stuff about Edelgard in the future including a story involving her and Bernadetta that. Also has some kissing and some sex in it. BUT LESS KISSING AND SEX THAN THE OTHER ONE. Keep an eye out. Love u anon thank you for this it made my day