#sort of continued that other prompt oops

[vorishthings]

The Last Delivery

This is my first vore story, and I hope you like it! Let me know if I can improve my writing by liking it, or just message me. If you want more send me some ideas or writing prompts. Enjoy!

It was any average Tuesday. Bryson was hungry. Not hungry in a simple, “I will eat food” sort of way. No, he was hungry for prey. He didn’t feel like going on a dating app and seducing his way into eating his prey, or finding some other convoluted way to go about getting his dinner. He decided to simply call in a pizza and have it delivered to his home. What a simple easy way to get his prey delivered to him. 

Eventually, the pizza arrived at his door, with a hot delivery guy to accompany it. Man, and he is hot too? I love hot prey. Hot prey for Bryson made it all the more appealing for him, as he loved the hot of someone gorgeous becoming worthless belly fat on him. Bryson opened the door, and the delivery guy greeted him. 

“Hello, I have a pizza for a…Bryson?” 

“Yes, that's me.” GURGLE. Bryson’s stomach must have had a mind of its own as it must have known its prey was nearby, and it grew upset in waiting. “Oh, excuse me, I haven’t eaten all day.” 

“Haha! It’s all right! I hope this will satisfy your hunger. One large pepperoni pizza with a liter of soda.” 

“Thank you, wait, hold on for one second.” He took the pizza and the soda bottle and set it down on the table, ran over to his desk and grabbed a ten dollar bill from it. He ran to the door. 

“Here is your tip, and…oops!” Bryson purposefully dropped the ten dollar bill on the floor. “I am so sorry…” 

“Oh no, it is okay. I can get it.” The delivery guy bent down and went to grab the dollar bill from the floor.  

Now was his chance, for his prey was distracted. Seizing the opportunity, Bryson grabbed the delivery boy by the back of his shirt and dragged him inside the house, slamming the door behind him with his foot. 

“Hey, what the fuck was that for? Let me go!” The delivery guy questioned and moved around to get him to let go of his shirt. Instead, Bryson took the delivery guy and put him in a chokehold. 

“Don’t worry, you will be fine…I promise. Just let me do what I need to do, and it will all be over.” Bryson tried to reassure the delivery guy. But the delivery guy was not reassured, and instead acted in a fighting response, kicking Bryson in the balls. “Oh, fuck!” Bryson yelled out loud. “Ok, that is it! You are going in there right now, so you can think about what you just did!” Bryson opened wide, his huge mouth leaking with drool to help maneuver his prey through his esophagus. He quickly shoved the guy’s head into his mouth, and removed his arm from the guy’s neck and put both his hands around the guy’s arms, forcing them to stay to his side. Mmmmfff!  The delivery guy was yelling, but his voice drowned out, as Bryson’s body made it impossible for any voice to be heard clearly from the outside.

Now, Bryson got his head down his esophagus, it was time for the shoulders, and eventually the guy's chest. Bryson was enjoying every second of his prey squirming, and his dick immediately got hard. The same could be said about the delivery guy. The guy’s dick was hard as a rock, and once Bryson got to the guy’s crotch, he started playing with the guy’s dick with his tongue. Mmmmffff! The delivery guy immediately moaned and orgasmed, with a cum stain appearing on the outside of his khaki pants.

Bryson could taste the cum with his tongue, and wanted to continue playing with his prey, but couldn’t, as the guy’s legs grew stiff from pleasure, and he stopped fighting. Pulling the guy’s shoes off of his feet, Bryson seized his chance, put his hands around the soles of the delivery guy's feet, and sent him with one final push to his stomach. GULP! Bryson’s neck bulged as the guy was being pushed by his insides to his stomach. 

“There, was it really that hard?” Bryson asked him. “Well, your job is now accomplished. You delivered my meal straight to my gut. Technically, you are the meal, but the little details don’t matter.” 

The delivery guy was pounding on the sides of Bryson’s stomach. “Let me out! Please! I will let you have the pizza for free! I will do anything! Just please don’t let it end like this!” Unfortunately for the delivery guy, Bryson’s stomach covered the sounds of his words, and it could only be heard as muffled voices from outside. “Oh, fuck! Your struggling is making me hard.”

Bryson’s dick was vibrating from the pleasure of having prey in his stomach. He took out his dick from his pants and started aggressively, pumping. Bryson couldn’t handle it anymore, and thick, gooey cum erupted from his cock and got shot all over his stomach, and the couch. He admired the orgasm he just had, and was too lazy and tired to clean it up. His stomach however, was not lazy, its job was just getting started.  Grrrrrroan. “Wow, my stomach must be having a field day with you in there, my friend.” 

Bryson went to sit down on his couch and took the pizza box that was on his table that the guy delivered. “Don’t worry, I won’t let this food go to waste. Here, why don’t you try some?” Bryson rolled up a pizza slice, and swallowed it whole. Once it got to Bryson’s stomach, it unrolled, making it more cramped and less air was inside of Bryson’s stomach for the delivery guy to breathe.

Bryson downed more pizza slices, and followed it with some sugary soda, which his stomach received with enthusiasm. Grrrrrrrrrrooooaaaaan. “Hey man! Not cool! I can barely *cough* breathe.” He kept punching at the sides of Bryson’s stomach, and it only made it more upset and aggressive.

Bryson moaned. “Just give up, and make yourself comfortable. You can’t escape your demise.” He patted his belly in an attempt to make the delivery guy calm down. “Your life will serve as a matter of sustenance. I mean you did wish earlier that my hunger would be satisfied didn’t you?” 

“What? I didn’t mean me! I meant the pizza, and I…*cough* *cough*” Bryson’s stomach rumbled, as it contracted and splashed acid all over the delivery guy and the pizza. The delivery felt the acid burn through his clothes and eventually his skin. His shirt fell off of him, and so did his pants. He felt himself becoming deformed, and he tried to stop it. He aggressively used all of his might to pound on the outside of Bryson’s stomach, to no avail. He grew weaker and weaker, and eventually, he gave up and subsided to his fate of becoming his customer’s dinner. Well, at least I made a customer happy. At least I did my job right. Sort of. 

Bryson’s warm, smooth stomach walls started squeezing around the delivery guy, mushing him into whatever form it desired, almost like the stomach was playing with clay. Soon, the delivery guy became just soup and miscellaneous piles of flesh and bones. Bryson felt his stomach grow peaceful and quiet. The delivery guy stopped thrashing around his stomach, and his stomach stood still. “What? Gone already? Man, prey always digests so quickly.”

Bryson felt pressure rise from his stomach, and braced himself, and let out a huge belch. BURRRRRRRRPPPP. With a splat, what seemed to be what was left of the delivery guy’s uniform: his pants, his shirt, and his socks, got thrown to the floor. Bryson assumed that the guy’s underwear must still be inside his stomach, but that was fine with him, as he could just collect his underwear when it passed through his body as a keepsake of his victim.

He slapped his stomach, and started playing with it. “You are now a part of me, as useless body fat and energy that I can easily just exercise and burn right through. I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay there, because my metabolism goes through things fast, and next thing you know, you will end up as undigested remains in my toilet. Thanks for feeding my hunger.” Grrrooaannn. His stomach erupted with groans and gurgles from within and kept eating away at the pizza and the remains of the delivery guy. As for Bryson, he went back to watching TV, while the delivery guy was stewing in his powerful stomach, along with the pizza he delivered.

[moodymisty]

Hi, I’d like to request a (nsfw) Perturabo x reader where you’re about to have sex with him, but you’re slowly realising from the way he’s anxiously going about it that he’s never had sex before. Perturabo knows, anatomically speaking, where the clit is, but he’s probably got no clue on what to do with it. (Also he’s probably trying so hard not to be an ass about it but he’s anxious and you’re so pretty and eager and what if he disappoints you and what if you call his sexual ability subpar and what if-) (he’s nervous. Basically)

I just feel like we often forget that a good number of the primarchs haven’t had sex before, which in my opinion could have some interesting implications in terms of x readers. Especially considering who they are and the possible stigmas around sex that they could have learned while on their various planets

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

A soft sequel to this request

Author’s note: I always jokingly quote Bricky when I say Perty is an Incel, so it’s nice I get to defeat the meme. Makes sense that most of the Primarchs probably wouldn’t indulge in such a thing at least often though, physical issues aside most humans tended to treat them like they were above them, which would probably be frustrating.

Anyways, I made sure to stay as close to your prompt as I could with Perturabo. I imagine he would NEVER let anyone see he wasn't a master at something, sex included. But don't worry, he worries internally plenty for you to enjoy I hope.

Summary: Perturabo returns to his new beloved, and indulges in an act he once deemed pointless.

Relationships: Perturabo/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Massive size kink, Perturabo is a little awkward but he tries to hide it, The creampie to end all creampies, A teeny bit of choking kink if you squint, Like 80% smut

Word Count: 2739 ...oops?

“Lord Perturabo?”

Hearing his name, he looks up to see a fresh faced Iron Warrior looking at him between two other of his elders. He hums as a response that he heard them, but that only seems to confuse him further.

“Should I repeat myself?”

Perturabo had hoped the three would take his disinterest in the matter as a tell for that they should continue their current plan, but he suppose they need his verbal approval on the matter.

“No. Take whatever tech priests aren’t already working on the issue and have them assist. I expect this to not be a problem for much longer.”

Throne knows we shouldn’t be waylaid for much longer.

The fact that they even had an engine issue to begin with upset the primarch immensely, but he’s been holding his tongue while it’s fixed. His legion has done nothing but aggravate him this entire mission, even more so than usual.

The three Iron Warriors nod and leave to follow his orders, and let Perturabo enjoy the room in silence once again. Apart from the hum of machinery and the buzz of a projection on the holotable, the room is finally quiet enough for him.

With a soft grunt of exertion he leans forward and places his hands against the edge of the massive table, and shifts uncomfortably in his armor as the issue that had distracted him previous makes itself known once again. It arguably aggravates him even more than this entire waylaid issue has been, his gauntlets gripping the table's edge tight enough that he feels it give way and crumbles underneath his hands.

Perturabo has never had such thoughts of sex take over so much of his head before. Especially ones that were unsolvable on his own, and lingered like some sort of infection.

If rarely the desire struck him and kept distracting him he could take a moment to himself, angrily yank himself to completion in the quiet of his own quarters- usually at his desk- before returning to his work, distraction quelled. It was transactional, just a bodily need to be dealt with before moving along.

But that hasn’t worked this time. He’s already tried and you still occupy his mind- still distracting him. It's all your fault, he should've never allowed you to get your nails into him this deep, deep enough that he can't tear them free.

He’s never felt this way before. He’s never felt any real desire to actually bring another person into his bed; If he needed that sort of release, he did it himself. To touch another, desire another, is new to him.

He knows you're soft, but how soft will you feel in his hands? Not just your own hand, but your entire body? He's never touched a woman before, had no reason to add another variable into his life that would largely serve to only distract him.

He wishes he could just rip all this armor off. He won't, but it's aggravating that now he's distracted enough to find it all inconvenient.

Once they repair the Iron Blood they can return to Olympia. Then he can see you and finally relieve himself of the stress you've put him under, scolding you for things you had no control over.

Unlike the days earlier when you were still working on his puzzle boxes, your workload now is significantly reduced. You mostly clean Perturabo's workshop and most personal quarters now, partly to keep yourself busy, and because he doesn't wish there to be anyone in there he doesn't trust.

He would have someone else he didn't despise to do it if you got bored of the work, the only reason he hasn't is because you seem to do it to keep your mind busy; Especially now that he was gone. He understands the feeling. He too hates it if his mind wanders too far off the path, hence why his workshop is so filled with random things he made when he felt himself drifting.

You enter the workshop and with significant effort close the heavy door behind you, before walking closer to him. He sits at his main workbench, a few partly rolled up plans the only thing in front of him of note. His shirt is rolled up at the sleeves, showing the scars on his arms hands as he leaned them on the table.

"How did it go?"

You say to him with a cautious look. You more than likely know that the Iron Blood was waylaid for a decent while, and you know faulty machinery is a core trigger for his mood to go quickly sour.

"I struggle to imagine a way it could have gone worse." He says with a monotone voice and blunt expression, which makes your lips purse- though before you can come up with a response he speaks again.

"Come here."

He gestures with one motion of his hand, and you walk closer up until you're standing right beside his chair.

It's still a bit surprising when he picks you up however; He's done it before, though the feeling of being lifted off the ground so easily is not a feeling done away with easily. He sits you onto his lap and you ignore the odd feeling in your chest about having been moved around so easily by him, looking down to see his thighs wider than your hips by a significant degree. Your legs dangle unable to touch the ground at this height; You look so small.

Leaning forward you pull some of the scattered blueprints closer to you, looking at them curiously.

"What are these for?"

Perturabo decides to placate at least one of your questions and ignore the ache between his legs for a moment longer.

"Drafts for the auto-targeting orbital defense cannons."

You hum and look at them, fingers brushing over the parchment. Perturabo watches as you lean forward, accentuating the curve of your spine and hips; Even with how light you are, he can also feel the way you soft thighs and ass press against him. He doesn't placate your questions any longer.

“Take it off.”

You’re clearly confused for a moment, taking your eyes away from his plans to look around.

“What? What do you mean?” You utter, before your body tenses as you feel his massive hand grip your waist.

“Take off your clothes.” Your hands suddenly begin to fumble with your dress, shaking. Perturabo settles to quicken the process forgo removing your dress, and simply push up the hem and tear off your underwear instead.

His hand wraps around your thigh easily, swallowing it in the massive expanse of his palm. His index finger slides between the crease at the very top of your thigh, and the closeness puts your lip between your teeth as your thighs instinctively move to close.

But the entire time his hand is less so teasing and more so, explorative. He has no destination in mind, and only lingers if he hears or feels you react to his touch.

He doesn't know how to touch you beyond the simplistic, what makes you sing. He'll learn silently, his pride would never allow him not to.

Pulling it away he moves his hand underneath you, yanking at his trousers. You hold his forearm for support until you see him finally free his cock, and it lays between your legs. You can just barely grind against it at this angle; but your bigger concern is its size.

Perturabo notices it too, but refuses to vocalize such a concern to you. He’ll make it work, he has too. He’s not sure if he would be able to survive if he couldn’t fuck you the way he’s been fruitlessly imagining to the point of being aggravatingly pent up.

His hand pushes between your legs, sliding against your folds and using his thick fingers to push them apart. You clench your teeth and lean back against his chest, feeling as he slips one of his fingers inside of you. Your sitting angle forces him to curl his finger in order to slip it into you fully he quickly realizes, grasping onto his arm for support.

He hears you moan, cunt soaking wet as you sit in his lap, leaning against his chest as he teases you. He knows that you won’t be able to take him straight away, not with your difference in size. It doesn’t take much to realize your tiny, tight little cunt wasn’t meant for him.

“Can you take another?” He says, and you think he’s teasing, but you realize he’s asking a genuine question.

Perturabo slowly forces a second finger into you and you cry out as he stretches you further, but the burn quickly fades into a pleasurable ache that has your stomach feeling tight and legs limp and useless.

"I have been waiting since that pathetic excuse of a ship was waylaid," Perturabo hisses between his teeth and feels his nose wrinkle angrily. "You will take me no matter how long we have to sit here." The sounds of your breathless moans are more arousing than he thought possible, making his cock twitch between his own thighs.

“Lord Perturabo?”

Stirred from his trance watching his hand shift between your legs Perturabo turns to glare at the door, the deepness and distorted tone of voice queues him in that it’s one of his Iron Warriors.

“The Iron Blood is repaired, the tech marines wished to show you before officially declaring it fit for duty-“

Perturabo suddenly places his other hand over your mouth, continuing to drive his fingers into your cunt has he yells. The Iron Warrior shouldn't be able to hear the wet sounds of his fingers curling inside of you, but he would be able to hear your incessant mewling.

“I will advise it tomorrow. Now leave me be.”

Your thighs shake, hands pulling at the one he has over your lower face trying to catch a full breath though his palm doesn’t allow you.

“And do not bother me again this evening.”

The Iron Warrior, clearly confused as to Perturabo’s sudden shift in attitude, responds in understanding and quickly takes his leave. Once gone, he finally takes the hand away from your mouth.

“You liked that?” Your watery eyes can’t see his face, only barely through the reflections on the metal in front of you. “I felt your little cunt get tighter.” He pulls his fingers from you and reaches between your legs to grab his cock, shifting himself to press against your entrance. It doesn't take much for him to lift you up slightly and begin to lower yourself onto him, slowly slightly when he hears you gasp.

Even with preparation, it's still a tight fit, he quickly realizes.

As such it's a slow and arduous process to fit himself into you, feeling your nails bite into the skin of his forearms. When your bottom finally hits the fronts of his thighs again, you feel like you're so full that you won't be able to handle it. It settles not long after however, though the feeling of him being almost right into your stomach still prevails.

"Good girl,"

He mutters as your weight rests in his lap; It slipped from his lips unconsciously, but you seem to respond to it. He internally slaps himself for allowing words to tumble out of his mouth without thinking, and steels himself to hold others firmly within his head for the time being.

He raises you up and down on his lap, holding you firmly at the hips. To hold you but not bruise you is a fine line with his strength, though if he is bruising you, you don't seem to mind. Perhaps you don't mind if he's rougher with you. Your smaller hands grip his forearms to steady yourself, or simply to keep yourself feeling grounded.

You look tiny against his massive expanse of a chest, shoulders barely higher than his ribcage.

"Pertura- Bo,"

You stutter out his name, the hot palms of your hands desperately grabbing at him. He's using you almost like a toy, but it's the only way he thinks is safe; He doesn't know the line, how much a body like yours could handle before it breaks. He knows he hasn't reached it yet, your gentle voice cries for him, leaning back against his chest.

He watches your lips part in a pant, and he wishes to kiss them, but resists it. The angle would be impossible, and part of him feels, off about how much larger his mouth is than yours. He feels like he can't do it properly. Perhaps it's lack of practice; You were the first one he's kissed as well.

A lot of firsts, you were. Largely meaningless to him years ago, but now he finds himself caring a bit more.

He's silently thankful when you finally come, sharply inhaling and digging your nails into his skin enough to leave little crescent moon marks. They'll fade in a few moments, he doesn't care. What he does care about is the way you feel like a vice around his cock, his right hand pulls away from your waist, forms a fist and slams the table as his teeth grit together, unable to hold himself back any longer.

You thought your body felt hot before, but it's even more so as you feel him finish inside of you, so much of it that you feel it almost forced out by the size of his cock. It makes a mess on the tops of his thighs, though neither of you care.

He makes no effort to even pull out until your heart isn't audible to him anymore, and when he does, he hears your whine as your well abused cunt flutters at the empty feeling.

Part of him almost wants to get angry with you; He's never bothered with something like sex before but now after this, with you, he can already feeling himself want to get hard and fuck you all over again until you're limp in his lap.

A smarter part of him wishes he'd never done this, never met you, never kissed you, never fucked you. He would've never known what he was missing, and never loose focus.

However that part of his mind looses, when he feels you lie more against the expanse of his chest. He sighs.

"It is late. I will bring you to my quarters and you can sleep there."

He refuses to let you sleep in that tiny room you called home before. For his own selfishness, and your safely. Now that you're becoming so close to him, your safety is a must. Many will find you an easy target.

"My clothes Bo, let me-" You quickly shut your mouth when you realized you hadn't called him by his proper name. He doesn't comment on it.

He picks you up not long after, bringing you to his quarters at a much quicker pace than you could do on your own. A few of his men give him an odd look at having such a disheveled woman in his arms, but it only takes one look in return for them to right their gaze and move along.

"Are you not going to stay?" You say when he plops you onto his massive bed with a gentle toss that makes you smile, and turns to leave.

"Must I?" He says it laced in sarcasm, but he regrets it when he sees the smile he'd just put on your face instantly bleed away.

"I wanted to hear about your plans, for a little bit. It's been so long since the last time."

Perturabo had as of late shown you more of his private plans, many of them war machines. He'd begun talking a bit out loud, and his deep voice talking rumbled in your chest and always made you feel so warm and comfortable.

He enjoys that you just listen. You don't have an ego to protect like he does.

Perturabo steps closer.

"If I do, I expect you to stay awake." You nod and smile. "I'll try." He sits onto the bed, grips your cheeks, and forces you to look up at him gently. Your lips purse from his grip in a way he finds tempting, and he mentally blames you for the distraction once again.

"You will. I'll make sure of it."

[traumxrei-archive]

【 stepping toe to toe with you 】

prompt #2: They were dancing together but all of a sudden it’s a slow song and now they were both standing here, awkwardly staring at each other (ft. jade leech, trey clover, ace trappola)

gn! prefect (you/yours), drabbles, word count: 860 words

a/n: hello it is so late i wanna sleep but i was also determined to post this today. so here we are. if there are spelling mistakes forgive me everyone, but i hope you enjoy :D

Jade Leech

Jade was never one for dancing, per se, but a very enthusiastic Prefect looking at him with puppy eyes was a good enough incentive as any.

"C'mon Jade-senpai," You said, tugging him to the middle of the hall. "They don't have parties like this everyday." And you were right, parties seldom happened in Mostro Lounge. But he was Jade Leech after all. He could indulge in you for a few minutes of mindless dancing.

That was until the music drastically shifted into a slow song. Jade froze. He swore that he saw Floyd standing near the sound booth with a smug smile on his face.

"Do you know how to ballroom dance, senpai?"

"Regrettably, I do not," Jade said shortly.

"Well, do you want to try?" With such an expectant smile on your face, how was Jade to refuse?

It wasn't long before Jade was flushing down his neck after stepping on your feet for the nth time.

"For someone who moves elegantly, your coordination is terrible," You teased and Jade was mentally preparing to roast Floyd on a spit.

"If you'd like to dance, Floyd would be happy to accompany you," Jade reasoned quickly. "He is more than competent dancer—."

"Senpai~" You drew out the last syllable, tugging till he was chest-to-chest with you. "It's you that I want to dance with, okay?"

And Jade shut up at that. His hand squeezed yours as he clumsily continued to blunder through the steps. Maybe dancing wasn't so bad, especially if it was with you.

Trey Clover

Trey had never been the one to listen to music in the kitchen, but you were. That was exactly why he was getting tugged along with you in a clumsy sort of dance. You laughed when he narrowly avoided bumping into a counter.

"Wow, senpai, where'd you learn those moves?" You asked, the teasing light on your tongue. He flushed lightly at the words, before grabbing your arm and pulling you into a spin.

"Give a guy a break," Trey mumbled, eyeing the clock. "I'm trying not to burn the cake."

"If it burns, then can I eat it?"

He sighed as you tugged him into another spin, "I spoil you too much."

That was when the music shuffled into a soft, orchestral tune. He froze in his spot, his hand lamely limp in yours are he looked everywhere but at you.

That was when you let go, bowing deeply, "Ahem, may I have this dance, Sir Clover?"

Trey took one look at the grin on your face and placed his hand in yours, "I hope you know how to lead, because I'm not well-versed in ballroom dancing."

You laughed, bright and colorful, "All you gotta do is hold on to me, alright, senpai?"

"Alright," Trey's reply was almost automatic, his heart fluttering. "I'll make sure never to let go." It sounded like a promise. And it was. It was a promise he was intent on keeping, after all.

Ace Trappola

Ace was having the time of his life. There was a smirk on his face as he entwined his fingers with yours, leading you through the crowd.

"Ace Trappola! We're– We just left all the others behind!" You scolded over the noise of the crowd.

"Oops, my bad," Ace said, clearly not feeling bad at all. "Those boring losers didn't even want to dance."

Your brows furrowed, "Those 'boring losers' are gonna end up getting kidnapp—"

"Relax," Ace drawled, pulling you into a spin. "Have some faith in Jack, will ya? 'Sides, it'd be a crime not to dance, Prefect." You looked two seconds from hitting him with a tirade of insults but he watched as your shoulders slumped.

Hook. Line. Sinker.

Ace hummed the familiar tune, watching as you finally started loosening up. That was when he heard a voice booming over the speakers, "Alright folks, we got a request from Trappola Sucks to put on a slow song! Hope you enjoy it, Trappola Sucks!"

The song shifted to a slower one and you all but laughed, "Fifty thaumarks that it was Epel and Deuce."

"This is so not funny," Ace muttered, but he still pulled you closer. All the others around you had paired up, and he would be damned if a stranger came to take you away.

"May I have this dance, Mr. Trappola Sucks?" You asked, and he couldn't help but fondly roll his eyes.

His heart almost jumped up to his throat when he noticed just how close you were to him. Sevens, his palms were sweating.

You huffed out another laugh as you let your head fall on his shoulder, "Where'd all that bravado go? Don't tell me you've finally fallen for my charm?"

Ace pouted and before he could process what he was about to say, he blurted, "So what if I did? Are you gonna do anything about it?"

You hummed, squeezing his palm, "I would take you on a date?" And now Ace wasn't sure who was being swept off their feet. He was sure he confessed, but the way you took initiative made him speechless.

"Is that a yes, Trappola?"

"Fuck you. Of course it's a yes."

thank you so much for reading ! if you liked my work, go and check out my other writings in the masterlist <3

[anitalianfrie]

bezzetti and 8 for the sex prompt? it can be genderbend if you want

this might suck massively, fair waring....

oops, we were just hiding in this closet, but then the close proximity get us too turned on not to fuck || bezzetti (from here)

It’s dark and suffocating inside the closed. Marco pushed him inside while they were laughing, running inside the house of somebody he’s pretty sure he doesn’t know, closing the door beside him with a loud thunk. 

“Why- why are we here” 

Marco looks at him all funny, eyes wide and big and eyebrows all furrowed. 

“Shhhhhhhhh” he says, one finger trying to reach up to press against Cele’s mouth and missing, pressing against his chin instead. 

“We’re hiding!” 

“Yes, but why” 

Marco furrows his brows even more. “Because...” he starts, and then falls face first into Cele’s neck, giggling. “I don’t know.” 

“But.” he continues, “I’m sure it is. Important. So be quietttttttt” and Cele nods, because he gets it, it’s important. Super important. Super mega important.  

Bez keeps giggling and giggling and giggling, lips brushing against Cele’s neck, against the skin and the muscles, and it’s hot now, isn’t it? Pressed one against the other inside the closet, surrounded by coats and winter clothes, in the dark. 

Cele collapses on Marco, giggling too, in some sort of hug that must look more like a trainwreck from the outside, arms around the other’s body. Marco is hot and heavy against him, solid like a mountain, his lips and scruff scraping against Cele’s skin. And Cele feels like he’s burning from the inside, and he thinks: maybe we should. Maybe we- like we almost did last time. 

And then, Marco stops giggling, but his lips are still there, on his skin, breathing against him, leaving him with goosebumps, and his hands travel under Marco’s tshirt, on the skin of his back, and he thinks they should be soft but they aren’t, heavy and clumsy drunk hands instead. Up and down, up and down, grabbing something that he shouldn't. 

One of Marco’s legs pushes in between his owns, against his dick, until they’re so close Cele doesn’t know where he stops and where Bez begins. 

“What now, bello?” he says, suddenly sure of himself, or maybe too drunk to care, he doesn’t know. 

Instead of answering, Bez starts leaving little kisses on his neck, clumsy, dragging his lips on the skin, leaving wet little patches behind.  

Cele’s hands trail up and up and up, one of scraping Bez’s back with the blunt end of his fingernails and the other tangled in his curls, Marco gasping on his skin, pressing himself even closer, reaching with his hands to squeeze his ass, and Cele can feel his dick pressing against his hip, getting hard. 

Marco presses up a bit with his leg, where Cele is getting hard in his jeans, and he wants more, more, more, moving his hips a bit to get more friction, something. Bez whines, against his neck, and then looks up, eyes big and breaths heavy, and Cele yanks a bit on his curls where his hand is tangled and Bez whines again, fuck, fuck fuck fuck, a small strangled sound that goes down to his dick like fucking electrical current. Marco looks- he doesn’t know, and he kind of wants to kiss him because he’s so pretty but he doesn’t know if he can. He wonders whether Bez’s lips are red and lucid with spit, obscene, he wishes he could see. 

He can feel Marco’s dick, hard, one of his hands moving around, while he breathes in his ear, and Cele thinks he’s about to die, there and then, his heart is beating so fast he feels it in his throat, and then Marco- Cele can’t see, but he can hear, and he hears Marco spitting, wet, in his own hand, and then something cold shoved inside his pants, grabbing the base of his dick, almost possessive. 

A small, pathetic whine echoes in the closet, and it takes Cele a moment to realize it came out of his own mouth. Bez breathes, hard, still, and he’s hot under his hands, almost burning, and Cele wants to touch, more, more. And then. Marco starts moving his hand, flicking his wrist, swiping his thumb on the tip, and he can’t wait anymore, fuck, and he shoves a hand down Marco’s pants, the only sounds in the closet their breaths and the rhythmic wet slap of skin against skin. Marco is hot and heavy in his hand and hard, so hard, and his tip is already wet, and Cele knows it must be so red and he wishes he could fucking see it.  

He moves his hand, a bit, slow, and Bez fucking moans in his ear, leaving behind a trail of wet breaths, still jerking him off, and Cele can’t do anything but move his hips, trying to follow his hand. 

Bez keeps making little small sounds in his ear while Cele jerks him off, smearing the precum from his tip all over to ease the friction, and they go down directly to his stomach, to his dick, and he feels hot all over, his head empty, empty, only Bez. 

Marco starts a litany of Cele, Cele, Cele, mouthing at the skin under his lips, and Cele doesn’t know if he’s whispering or screaming or, or, and he knows, he knows Marco must be as close as he is, hips stuttering under his grip, dick hot and so so wet. He squeezes him at the base, gently, thinking of what he likes, and Bez goes still and emits a strangled sound in his ear, only for him, and comes, Cele’s hand wet with his cum. 

It was him. It was him, it was him doing this, he doesn’t- he doesn’t- fuck. Bez flicks his wrist, sweeps his fingers down, on his balls, and he’s fucking about to die, the rhythm of the hand on his dick erratic, fast, touching him everywhere, Bez’s neck under his lips, so so sweet, and he moans, coming in his hand, collapsing on Bez. 

He closes his eyes, panting, pressing his face against Marco’s collarbone, breathing him in, his hand still in Bez’s pants and Bez’s hand still in his. Once it feels like his heart isn’t trying to get out of his ribcage anymore, he starts pulling away, but Marco keeps him tight, reaching out with both hands, hugging him.  

“Can we stay like this?” he whispers, and Cele nods, eyes half closed, the high from the orgasm mixing with the alcohol in his bloodstream, making him feel stupid. He hugs Marco back, wiping his hand somewhere, maybe on his shirt, he doesn’t know, and buries his head Marco’s neck, in his soft curls. Breathing in, and out. In, and out. 

He almost wants to say something, he doesn’t even know what. He wants, he wants- 

A sudden light floods the closet. Cele squeezes his eyes, trying to keep it out. 

“What...” 

“I finally found you, cazzo!” half screams Mig from the other side of the door. “What the fuck were you doing in this closet... no, don’t answer me, we have to go. I can’t believe Bez keeps hiding in random places when he gets drunk...” he unceremoniously drags them out, screaming a bunch of ciaos on their way to the door.  

Marco has a giant wet spot on his shirt. Cele misses his warmth. 

[tartigglez]

HELLO!! the bubble emoji anon here. on pc.. so no emojis for me today [heart breaking emoji]. what do i do without emojis??? die?? yes.

ANYWAYS. saw u in need of fluff. me too.

diluc and reader who r absolutely pining for each other but aren't together. the little things. omg. the long hugs. the quick glances. the denial to coworkers/friends.. "no we are nOT together!!" (pls date me diluc) brushing of the fingers in public. trying to squeeze out every last minute together. SECRET EYE CONTACT AT THE SAME TIME!!! BLUSHING!!!! aaAAAAAHAHAHAHAH

per standard, i went off prompt, forgive me.

"if you need me"

diluc x gn!reader

genre: fluff (ish)

word count: 1.4k

tags: kaeya jumpscare, also venti kajhdjfak, farts (don't ask), diluc probably has problems with his emotions (if i write him, when does he not?), lil kisses cuz why not

tw/cw: alcohol, reader refuses to address their emotions (oops), also reader cries at one point (immediately comforted)

a/n: when will i ever stick to a prompt...

when you discovered that angels share was hiring, you were the first to jump upon the opportunity. after all, who wouldn’t want to work somewhere with decent pay, such a social environment, and under such a handsome boss…

1 day

“you’re the new employee, right?”

“uhm, yeah! that’s me!”

“right… your résumé is… impressive”

“thank you, master diluc”

“just diluc is fine”

“o-okay”

“most of your shifts will be shared with charles, but i will be working alongside you too. remember to wipe down the bar often, check the stock after each shift et cetera, i’m sure charles will keep you right”

“yep, okay!”

as he turned to go out of the bar and back to the winery, he snapped his head back towards you while you were putting your apron on. 

“oh and, if a little green man with a lyre comes in here, kick him out by eleven, lest mondstadt experiences some sort of unfortunate wind”

“unfortunate… wind?”

“no it's- not like that”

diluc seemed to turn a little red, having accidentally suggested that lord barbatos had some sort of issue with his bowels.

“haha, no worries. i’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“yes, good luck. if you have any questions, ask charles”

3 days

“y/n, are you settling in well?”

“ah, hi! i've started getting used to the customers, that’s for sure.”

“have you run into any problems with them?”

“no, no, not at all. it can just be rather busy in here sometimes. between the knights and the guild, people really drink like crazy”

“hm, i suppose that’s one thing the knights are good at. if you need me, i’ll be in the back”

2 weeks

this is your fifth shift with diluc. he can be quite tense at times, but once you manage to initiate a good conversation with him about something he’s interested in, he can be quite chatty. you had encountered this the last time you had a shift together, when he began talking about some specialty wine that the winery was producing, it was actually quite pleasant, watching the man talking about this interest of his, although he did get a little embarrassed when he realised he had gone off on a rant. 

the events of todays shift however, included…

diluc accidentally making eye contact with you, at least four times (it was not an accident, he was very intentionally looking at you)

the pair of you touching hands multiple times whilst trying to serve customers

and also, for some reason, diluc getting somewhat annoyed at a random knight captain who happened to waltz into the tavern and begin trying to sweet talk you. 

4 weeks

by this point you’ve already learned that diluc and kaeya -as you now called him- were brothers, but had some sort of tension between them, which you also figured would be best not to meddle in. they were always at each others throats, but when they were apart, were both quite pleasant to be around. you had even hung out with kaeya once, sharing a meal at good hunter. 

this would prove to be a mistake though, because he did nothing the entire time except continually asking if you were “canoodling” his brother. of course you denied it, feeling rather flustered. why on earth would someone date their boss? even though things did seem a little flirty between the two of you, it was a definite that nothing could happen, right? of course diluc made you only seem more suspicious, as he saw you and kaeya at lunch, immediately approached you both, and sat way too close to you, almost as if he was jealous or something! what an awkward meal. 

2 months 

personal issues were not something you had to deal with often, but when you did, you tended to shut them down, ignore them, and continue with life. you weren’t one to dwell. however, on the particular day in question, you were pretty upset, and this only seemed to get worse the more people asked you how your day was going whilst ordering a drink. you also knew that diluc would be coming in for his shift later, and you really didn't feel like dealing with his stoicism today. of course he’s nice to be around, just… a little awkward? he doesn’t make you uncomfortable or anything, he’s just not very chatty, and wouldn’t be great about distracting you from your feelings.

you could eventually hear some noise in the back, and realised this was diluc, probably sorting stock, or taking inventory, something along those lines. you, however, were still serving customers, taking drink orders, the usual. 

of course, the later it got, the drunker customers became, your mood began to slowly get worse. you were exhausted, and honestly just wanted to go home and cry. it's been a rough day. you also happened to notice that the fridge below the counter was running low on bottles, so you’d best go stock it. 

as you entered the back room, you saw diluc at the desk, filing paperwork. he’d been there for hours, and still hadn’t gone out front to say hello to you. 

“y/n”

“diluc”

gosh, the silence could be cut with a knife. 

“y’know, it's common practice to greet your employees when you feel like gracing them with your presence”

“i know, i'm sorry, it's just that i got caught up with something and i- are you okay?”

“huh- what? yeah, yeah, i’m fine”

so it seems that the tears in your eyes were still noticeable after all…

he slowly got up from his seat, coming to stand beside you at the shelf.

“i’ll ask again… are you okay?”

this time, you were choked up. you feared that if you spoke, the lump in your throat might dissipate, and you may just begin spilling tears. so, you opted for shaking your head, thinking this would work better, but it didn’t, you still began crying anyway.

“hey, hey, it’s okay. whatever it is, it's okay, i’m here”

he pulled you towards him, allowing you to sob into his chest. what on earth…?

“you should’ve told me, y/n”

“i know but, i thought maybe i’d get distracted and i-”

“it’s okay. i assure you. do you want to go home?”

you just nodded against his chest, breathing in his scent, because you knew you’d have to let him go.

“alright, you can go out the back”

he somewhat awkwardly let go of you, before sending you on your way. how strange. how is he so nice one minute, then as cold as to send you home the next? 

“see you tomorrow, y/n”

“s-see you…”

2 months, 1 day

a ringing of your doorbell woke you up, as opposed to your alarm, which was worrying in itself. you quickly checked the clock in your room. shit! 1pm? late for work... how on earth could you have slept this much? and what did this mysterious person at the door want?

you slothed your way out of bed, hair awry, pyjamas…wrinkled, going to the front door to see what this person could possibly want at this time on a tuesday. approaching the door, you saw a tall figure, clad in a red jacket, with something in hand… it couldn’t be… is it…

“diluc?”

“diluc? hi- yes- diluc- me!”

he sighed at himself, meanwhile you were wondering what he was doing with such a massive bouquet of flowers.

“hi”

“hi”

“i um… wanted to… bring you flowers… because…”

“because…?”

“uhm… would you like to go to dinner tonight? I mean- we can- just- not... if you don't want to... i mean-”

“i’d love to.”

“oh, um… okay! great. here you go…”

he handed you the flowers gently, looking beyond anxious at this point, a blush to compete with the colour of his hair dashed across his cheeks. 

“they’re beautiful, diluc”

“you’re- uhm… never mind”

“hah, see you tonight?”

“see you tonight”

he smiled into the words he spoke, before turning around to depart from your doorstep. this however, was interrupted when you grabbed his wrist, turned him around and pecked him on the cheek. he was about to explode. literally. however, his spontaneous combustion was interrupted by someone yelling across the street…

“i knew it!”

of course, you and diluc responded in sync…

“SHUT UP KAEYA!”

hehe

[hb-writes]

For a ‘love’ prompt, I hope they’re still open? If not ignore this ☺️ I love the relationship between Emmeline and Christian Grey, so maybe something cute and fluffy to show the love they have for each other, something like ‘You have three seconds to run.’

"You have three seconds to run."

Emmeline was still giggling and the words took an extra moment to process as she considered her brother's current condition, her mind trying to compute exactly how dropping her breakfast dishes into the suds-filled sink had caused such a strong splash back, one which had left her gloriously dry while Christian looked like she'd dumped a pot of water on him, liquid dripping to the kitchen floor.

"Oops?" Emmeline offered a small smile to her brother, taking a cautious step away from him as she tried to sober herself.

Christian snorted and a dangerous gleam shined in his eye as he wiped a bit of soap from his cheek, his lips pressing into a straight line, though Emmeline could tell it was an effort not to smile.

Christian Grey had a few dangerous looks, a handful of infamous glances and glares that communicated without requiring him to utter a single word. Emmeline was all too familiar with those sorts of looks. She'd been on the receiving end of them often enough. More than most people, she suspected, but as familiar as she was with the looks that communicated Christian's frustrations, she knew this look, too...

Christian would have the world believe that he wasn't the playful sort, that he was a serious businessman. A no-nonsense sort of person and nothing more...but Emmeline knew her brother well enough to know better.

Equal parts of dread and giddiness settled her stomach as Christian started counting out.

"One..."

Emmeline's mind emptied of everything except the goal of putting distance between her and her brother, her sock-clad feet slipping on the floors as she pushed past him and raced through the penthouse.

"Two..."

She let out a scream followed by a peal of laughter as Christian counted out the final number, her foot slipping and sending her into the wall as she turned a corner. Christian had given her a head start, but as she listened to the sounds of his approach, Emmeline had no illusions about the fact that her advantage was fleeting.

She met her brother's eye as he appeared at the end of the hall and a startled shriek escaped her lips as she pushed herself into motion once again, aiming for the nearest room with a locking door—Christian's home office at the end of the hall.

"Ha!" Emmeline shouted as she slid over the threshold, slamming the door in Christian's face as he caught up, both of them fumbling with opposite sides of the door handle—Christian trying to gain entry as Emmeline worked to secure the lock.

She let out a nearly breathless laugh as the lock finally clicked in place, resting her arms above her head as she caught her breath.

Christian called his sister's name through the door, the tone almost alarmingly calm, gentle. "Open the door."

The handle rattled. "Em. Let me in."

She laughed. "No way," she answered, stepping away from the door. "Feel free to contact my assistant to make an appointment."

Emmeline could've sworn she heard Christian laugh on the other side of the door. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"I think I can maybe get you in next Tuesday," she continued, slipping her phone from her pocket as it chirped, an email notification popping up on her lock screen—a calendar invite from Christian with the meeting label 'retribution,' scheduled for the next fifteen minutes.

Emmeline snorted, rolling her eyes as she slid into the chair behind his desk and declined the invite. She started scrolling on social media, figuring she could wait him out. Wait until the desire for retribution was replaced by some more important—something with work or Ana's return from her brunch with Kate.

Emmeline shot to her feet, dropping her phone as the door suddenly shot open, revealing her brother, smirking there with a single key in his hand. The key she'd conveniently forgotten to consider.

"Chris..." Emmeline started, hands held up in the space between them as Christian stalked forward. "Chris. Christian! Please just wait." Emmeline stepped around the desk, trying to keep the furniture between them. "It was an accident. They slipped. Please. I—"

Emmeline shrieked as her brother grabbed her arm, pulling her to his chest and trapping her there with one arm, his fingers digging into her ribs as he extracted his retribution.

[bcolfanfic]

hi! argue for the agents prompts for ev and helen because i love helen and i’m so curious to what their dynamic looks like in the yv au

this is kinda slice of life from larger plot line @swifty-fox and i have been developing. abusive bf never got a name lmfao we have been calling him "fuckface" exclusively but. just so no one is confused it's *not* nash. this takes place post-afghanistan war being over and him being dead. ev stayed in the military and does flight instruction at a base in west va around where helen lives (where nash was from, and in this au her too) which is how they got connected and became friends post-war to begin with. curt is kickin around here because he went on a field trip to whop fuckface's ass. (and sees a lot of his own mom in helen which is a whole curt lore Thing but that's more rachel's zone).

They had settled into a routine of sorts. Blakely went to work in the morning while Helen stayed at his house with Wyatt. She pattered around, did laundry- did anything really to make his base housing one story feel less cagey.

When he got back, they'd eat together and spend a couple of hours doing what Jean had tenderly dubbed "playing house" during her last phone call to Helen. After putting the three-year-old to bed, they'd settle down on opposite sides of Blakely's bed and it was nothing more or less than that. Save for Wyatt waking up a little past 2am and wanting B'akey every other night.

For a woman who had been roughed up by her piece of shit boyfriend two weeks ago, Helen seemed to be doing marginally okay. The scratches on her face were healing and didn't seem like they'd scar. She told Blakely his flight uniform looked nice on days he had to leave for work in it, laughed over dinner and smiled at him when she crawled into bed- seemingly inching closer to his side each night.

But the routine wasn't supposed to include him giving Curt permission to go beat on the guy only to get a text that he'd shown up to Wyatt on the front porch with Helen inside telling him to leave because they were just talking.

---

“And what if he is sorry, why’s it such a big deal to you if I forgive him?” Helen said, scrubbing a cup as bitterly as it was possible to do such a thing.

It was the third day since Tuesday that they'd had this fight, and he wasn't even sure who was picking it first anymore.

“Cause I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him and I don’t understand why you do. Look at your arm- all he has to do is says Oops! and you'd go back to him?" He said, voice going up an octave. "You'd bring Wyatt back around that piece of shit after he scared him so bad?”

Helen put down the cup she was washing, furling and unfurling her fingers. She spoke at the kitchen counter more than she was him, her back still turned.

“He never touched Wyatt, I already told you that. People can change.” Helen said, her voice softening slightly. “And I still don’t see why it's any of your business,” she continued.

“Because it's my preference that you don't go back to someone that put his hands on you? Kinda feels like common sense to me Hel, what type of friend would I be if I just sent you on your way to him."

Blakely was exasperated, and felt his face tightening.

Curt had tried to get across to him, in other words- that growing up in a stable home made him sheltered.

"You're doin' a good thing Blakely, but it's not always so cut and dry. If you don't think you got the patience to stick it out when she wants to hit reverse y' gotta look after yourself too."

But that was silly, he thought then. Helen could never be too much for him.

He saw Curt's point now.

Helen still wasn't facing him, but he could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she inhaled and gulped, like she was trying to choke something down.

If she had been trying to bite her tongue, it didn't work.

“You’re not my boyfriend Ev, it’s none of your business who is.”

“Yeah, cause you really know how to pick ‘em.”

The second those words left his mouth he wanted to shove them back in. But he couldn't now- not when all the air had been sucked out of the room in a millisecond.

The folded flag sitting on the windowsill that they'd taken from her house for safekeeping seemed to have grown eyes, which glared at him accusatorily.

A little noise escaped Helen, like a hurt animal, and Ev pressed his face into his hand, dragging it down.

“That’s not- shit Hel, I wasn't talking about Nash,” He said, inhaling when he sensed her turn around, taking a couple steps closer to him.

“No- you were talkin’ about him. Cause you’re jealous, been jealous of him since you started coming around. Everyone wants something and- you aren’t any different.”

Her voice was tight, and she was so close to him now that he could feel her breath on his face- her eyes searching for something in his.

There were things he wanted, a lot of them. But it was a prioritized list. It always had been.

"I want you to be safe, Helen," he said quietly. "For Wyatt to be safe. You want me to apologize for that?

Helen wrapped her arms around herself, thumb rubbing at a tender mottled yellow-green mark on her bicep.

"I want you to be honest with me," she whispered, looking at Blakely with a faint sniffle. "Because right now, you're not being that and you know it."

"Are you?" he asked back, his voice barely above a whisper.

Helen started at him, inhaling, crossing her arms over her body a little tighter.

"I don't know what that's supposed to mean Ev."

"You know what it means." He replied, locking eyes with her- trying to soften his gaze. "I want to be honest, but you have to work with me here hon, cause I- I don't wanna overstep. Kinda means you gotta go first."

For a second it looked like she was going to respond- lips parting to speak. But there seemed to be some sort of override and a flash of panic flashed over her face.

Helen took a step back, breath catching in her throat.

"I- I need to go get Wyatt ready for dinner, I'm sorry," She stammered, brushing past him and away without waiting for a response.

[caspercryptid]

OMG! The cooking prompt was so cute! I loved the way they were both so insistently tugging on the pot but are also like "You work so hard!" "No, you." ROFL It was great.

Also, sorry about overwhelming you with prompts! I got excited!

Drunk Gale and drunk Wyll at the tiefling party being silly (maybe a little sad at some points), maybe sharing a kiss, and then passing out next to each other (maybe in their arms?)

This one next?

Don't worry about overwhelming me!! I don't mind getting multiple prompts at a time, I just prefer to get them in separate asks so I can put the request fill in the reply individually, so feel free to ping me another couple, I'll reply to whichever ones i've got the brain for. —

“I have decided,” Gale says, tone serious, “that I hate you.” Wyll looks up. Gale is beautiful in the firelight, shadows dancing across his features, his robes swaying in the faint shifting air of people passing by and the waves of warmth from the fire, sound cushioning them both— distant laughter, revelry, the general hum of joy and people. The party was, however, starting to wind down, so it wasn’t quite so loud that Wyll could miss what Gale just said.

“I beg your pardon?” he says, anyway, because surely. Surely Gale of waterdeep did not just say that.

“I am here to tell you that I hate you,” Gale says, “You are distracting. A distraction. I missed a fire bolt today, and it’s on account of you.”

Wyll. squints. A little. His mind is moving a mite slow- he’s had a few drinks, passed enthusiastically into his hand by his friends and the tieflings, but holding this conversation up against similar conversations with gale to see if it makes sense is coming up with nothing. There doesn’t seem to be a context he could place this in. “Did I.... do something wrong?” He asks.

“Yes,” Gale says, and then fails to elaborate, which is frankly very unlike him. Wyll waits. Gale continues to fail to elaborate.

“—come and sit down,” Wyll decides.

“No,” Gale says, petulant, “I wouldn’t want to— keep you from your. Evening’s diversions. Although frankly it’s unprofessional.” “Unprofessional,” Wyll echoes.

“Yes, unprofessional. Lots of people make careers out of adventuring, and even if we were thrust into it, we could— follow professional standards. Of conduct.” “We could,” Wyll agrees, slowly, trying to see a way out of this conversation, but that seems to be the wrong answer, because Gale puffs up like a pigeon. Actually, it’s rather cute, the way he sticks his chest forward. Wyll always thought it was funny when people did that in fights. Trying to make themselves look bigger, as though size was ever an indicator of how well they were going to hold up in a fight. Wyll had fought some halflings, it really really wasn’t. 

“You,” Gale says, and then fails to elaborate.

“Me,” Wyll agrees.

Gale open and closes his mouth, and then he says— “Lae’zel.” “—Yes?” Wyll tries.

“You’re— fornicating. With her.”

“...fornicating,” Wyll echoes, and then, hastily, “I know what it means, I just— um. No.” That seems to throw Gale off.

“...No?” He repeats.

“No,” Wyll repeats. “Uh, or, I did. A little while ago. We’re done. I’m not expecting a repeat performance, so if it bothers you—” He trails off, trying to understand what Gale’s expression is doing.

“Oh,” Gale manages. “Oh, I suppose that’s—-fine, then. She’s— not suited for you, anyway.” “Seems she agreed,” Wyll says, baffled.

“You ought to have someone more suited to your temperament,” Gale continues, “kinder, perhaps. Or. More understanding. Of you. More... like. Me.” Oh.

Wyll laughs, he can’t help it, but before Gale can get up in arms again he extends up his arms.

“Come here,” He says, encouraging, and then lets out a little Oof as Gale just sort of crumbles, landing on top of him and knocking him from his sitting position onto the ground. “Oops,” Gale mumbles. “Perhaps none of that is what I meant to say, perhaps i meant to say— something else—” Before Gale can invent a better lie, Wyll kisses him.

“—That’s better,” Gale says, when he comes up for air, and Wyll grins at him.

“It is,” He agrees, and decides he’s going to learn from experience not to run his mouth too much, and kisses Gale again.

[cuprohastes]

Hey you, space orc!

Sometimes, Dave The Human got mistaken for an actual human, because someone saw the name and mistook her for Dave the Human - an actual Human, currently under the moniker of Phalanges Mitten as part of his deep cover as a female Atrix after accepting a sort-of marriage proposal from a small, actual Atrix.

And then the female Tsin would show up as per request and someone would double take and go 'Oh er'. and they'd call EVA 43, who was known for being an unkillable badass, or Phalanges, who was not known for being an unkillable badass, because he never mentioned the thing with the Thotari assassins or that one time he beat up an entire pirate ship.

This prompted Dave to broach the subject over food in the Cafeteria:

"So... what is a Space Orc?" she asked. Cat fantastic said "Gweep?" and Phalanges and EVA 43 did that thing where they leaned back and swapped significant looks and made 'Mmm, hmmm' faces.

Dave watched Cat Fantastic, Phalanges Little Guy copy the move thoughtfully, and then EVA 43 said. "It's an old joke. Like from before the Wallandernook showed up and got us interstellar."

Dave nodded instead of doing the ear sweep, a carefully learned habit. "Yeah... they got us off planet entirely - Without artificial gravity, we can't do it in person - And of course there's that whole 'oops bombed ourselves into an anti-space doctrine." she said.

Cat Fantastic said 'Graak' and Dave wondered what he meant by 'Nice exposition'.

EVA 43, who's actual name nobody could ever recall for more than a few seconds continued and once again Dave was bemused that the moment she looked away she couldn't picture 43 in any away: not their gender, skin colour... nothing: As though someone had written a character and failed to give them any description at all and for some reason kept up with the gag.

"We have this literary tradition of writing fantasy works - Fiction - With uhhh..."

"Tropes." offered Phalanges.

"Tropes - Yes, OK so one is Orcs. They're barbaric, kind of dumb compared with Humans... but they're a bit bigger, a bit stronger, a bit hardier..."

"So in any physical situation, the Orc is the one who's most likely to survive, discounting any plot necessity." said Phalanges.

"Oh I guess I get it." said Dave. "We've got something similar but it sort of loosely translates as Even Bigger People." - She herself was a Big Female, which was unrelated to size. It just meant that without modern medical intervention she was unlikely to change gender, unlike three quarters of the Tsin population who would swap to maintain gender balance naturally. The connotations were 'The most female type of female', which got adjusted for the benefit of talking to other species.

Cat Fantastic said "Graak." which was true: As a monogendered species who's reproductive roles were defined by body mass out of convenience, and who's actual reproduction was 100% external and more akin to a turtle dumping her eggs and then letting the hatchlings just deal with survival, the Atrix version of a bigger stronger more durable Atrix was literally just the biggest strongest and most durable Atrix that you knew.

And compared to Humans Atrix were fragile: A normal human could walk off injuries that would be incapacitating to an Atrix.

43 famously stepped into hard vacuum with nothing but a surgical gown, after surviving a few hours with life support disabled in a crippled EVA suit, by just being reversibly dead.

They'd done it to save their friend, an Atrix, who had to have a new eye installed, and had life-long scars from mere low pressure exposure that was too low for them to maintain consciousness... a situation that for a human would possibly, if sustained for a while, caused a hickey and dry eyes, maybe a wheeze from inhaling hard.

Phalanges nodded. "So yeah - In comparison to most species, we can survive higher gravity - or no gravity - injuries that would cripple or kill other species with shock - We've got redundant organs, and emergency chemical responses that turn off the limits of our muscles so we can trade massive damage for survival... or not feel pain."

EVA 43 frowned and thought about that, then nodded and ticked off a couple of fingers, "And we can stop breathing for a couple of minutes, consume our own body mass if there's no food, keep moving for longer than almost any other starfaring species...."

Phlanages picked up, "And then pack bond with nearly any organism or object, so instead of getting obliterated by everyone else because we met you guys and reached for a recipe book..."

EVA 43 added "... we can eat a stupid range of food including what a lot of other species consider poisonous chemicals..." to the list.

Phalanges continued cheerfully, "... so you guys were like 'Oh crap, no wait, these dumb monsters are friendly. Maybe they'll pick stuff up and carry it for us.'"

"And do human related stuff." EVA 43 added.

Daver held up both her small hands, the one on her second set of arms. "OK, and it helps you have this really weird flexible language and you're just right in the middle of the audio and visual range almost everyone uses." she added drumming her big claws on the table, which Cat Fantastic mimicked.

"Yeah."

"Squeap." said Dave, making a pity comment in her normal, near ultrasound dialect of Southern Tstktk Tsin. "I do enjoy these weird little culture discussions. But I feel like I'm letting the side down because people keep calling me for space orc stuff."

Phalanges, mouth full of purple breadroll shrugged and gave EVA 43 a look.

43 leaned back and pondered. "OK well... look, it's going to be mostly Atrix calling, right? Humans don't need another human unless it's a specific uh..."

"Phkil" mumbled Phalanges.

"Bingo. And there's just not many Tsin doing work that needs a human. They're mostly in Med or admin where the gravity is safest."

Dave nodded again getting an idea of where this was going.

"So it's Atrix. Therefore..." said 43...

"... you just need to figure out what you can do that they can't." finished Phalanges, "And do it in the most flamboyant way possible."

---

Mothers Pride, looked down at Dave, having requested them to the bowels of the station - An area that really was the bowels as it dealt with the processing and containment of the sanitation system. Which means exactly what you think.

Actually, this was part of Dave's area of expertise, as they were a certified life support specialist like Phalanges. She had the horrifying stains on her jumpsuit to prove it.

"Oh we, er thought you were going to be a human." said Mothers Pride in very formal Tsin.

Two smaller Atrix peered around her, doing complex colour patterns with their faces.

"Well... I am for tax reasons." said Dave. "Is this anything to do with the overheating steriliser?" she asked in her natural colloquial yokel manner.

"How...? Yes, yes, it's in an awkward place and we can't get in because of the heat and the close quarters." Pride said giving Dave a peachy-green look.

"Ah, oh that's no problem. Just let me take a listen... hmmm... OK the circulator pump's not running fast enough..." she said and put her claw tips on the piping, "... yeah feel that, the vibration's about half what you would expect." she said.

The three Atrix simultaneously looked at their tablets where the diagnostics were telling them something similar, at length with less detail.

Then she paused, ears swivelling, making a high clicking sound that made the Atrix twitch minutely flush orange with each ultrasonic burst, and carefully added, "Ah you might want to step back", and rapidly knocked on the pipe as she stepped into the accessway - Too tight for an Atrix. OK for one of the slim wiggly humans, fine for the short and stocky Tsin. There was a startling gurgle and a thrumming vibration: The impellor picking up started pumping the horrible gunk through the system - the increased flow taking the building heat from the pasteurisation unit with it.

Then she shuffled back out with some new trophy stains on her overalls, flicked her ears once and said "Nice working with you, Pride." and ambled back down the corridor.

Mothers Pride and her two interns watched, astounded. They stared at each other, flickering colours on their cheeks and foreheads, amazed.

Dave, who's vision was at the other end of the spectrum to Atrix vision, and who'd been able to see the infrared coming off the machinery as a grainy glow, and who's vocalisations and hearing were good enough to do a little fuzzy ultrasound, had detected the mass choking the pipe (And gotten lucky that strategic knocking had make it move) got all the way around the bend before allowing herself some excited squeaps.

After all, she was a Space Orc now.

[arianatwycross]

The Process of Wanting

Chapter 4: @jilymicro-oops prompt: Focused

A bit of a pivot on this chapter, so I hope you enjoy! (I've also changed the title of this fic)

James lingered in the doorway, his body taut.  “What’s up?” Remus asks from his desk, eyes focused on his laptop.  “It wasn’t a date.” Is all James can manage. Read more below or continue on A03

This makes Remus look up, his eyes comically wide, “But it was?” 

“No, it wasn’t.” 

“What makes you say that?” Remus asks seriously, abandoning his essay to turn his attention to James still standing in the doorway. 

“Would a date focus on the discussion of your lack of experiences with women?” James drawls. 

Remus furrows his brows. James doesn’t blame him for looking so confused, he was too just an hour ago. 

“What?” 

“Apparently, drunk James decided to let it slip that he had no idea what it was like to sleep with someone, and thus Lily put it upon herself to follow up on this lousy admission and see if I was ok…” 

Seeing how befuddled Remus looks, James continues, “I told Lily Evans that I was a lonely virgin…with the caveat that I had no trouble getting the opportunities to sleep with women but that I couldn't follow  through…” 

Remus’ eyes widen, his mouth creasing, and before James can snap at him, he’s laughing so hard it sounds like he can’t breathe. 

Waiting for Remus to compose himself, James settles himself on Remus’ nicely made bed. 

“You done?” He asks his mate, thoroughly unamused. 

“Why would she want to talk about that with you? And also Why did you tell her that!?” Remus asks, a grin so like Sirius’ it makes him think about what his best mate will say about this entire turn of events. 

“I was very drunk, I can’t even remember telling her!” James whines, “And as to why she wanted to talk about it…she said she couldn’t stop thinking about it, said it felt similar to her experiences.” 

“Oh?” 

“She…uh - she proposed we…” But James couldn’t say it aloud, the complete absurdity of the situation was still spinning in his head. 

“She proposed?” Remus prompted. 

“Please don’t laugh and please don’t tell anyone. But she proposed we help each other out.” 

James' heart, now at a hundred miles per hour, feels like it could easily run into overdrive and cause a heart attack. 

“Help each other out how?” Remus asks, scanning James face curiously. 

“We both struggle with intimacy…in different ways. She’s suggested that now that we both know that about each other, that maybe we could help each other work through those issues.”

Remus arches an eyebrow, waiting for James to carry on. 

With a deep breath James continues, “She said she’s attracted to me, and she feels comfortable enough around me - knowing what she knows now - that I wouldn’t take advantage of her…in that way. She wants us to ‘date’.” He says this with a grimace, waiting for Remus’ reaction, anything to confirm his feelings. 

“I’m so confused.” Is all Remus answers with. 

“Lily wants us to experiment with each other...physically.” 

“Lily wants to have sex with you?” 

James sighs, “Kind of. She wants us to be a sort of friends with benefits, but slowly and at our own pace. See what we both like and what we don’t like.”

Remus blinks, the two friends sit in silence for a few minutes, both of them staring at each other. 

“How do you always get yourself into these weird situations?” Is all Remus says. 

James groans.

[inscrutable-shadow]

Whumptober 2023 Day 6 - Opening Act

@whumptober-archive

Alt Prompt - Lab Rat

In at the wire, amirite? And a form experiment? During Whumptober? Less likely than you'd think! I can't put a readmore in a chat format I am so sorry hopefully the new post shortening feature is sufficient ;-;

I don't feel comfy deciding how much of the Doc's backstory is canon to FCD right now so have a new banner, I guess. They should be about nineteen here, and this is one of their first subjects. Have them being horrifying for a bit lol.

contains: gore, medical experimentation, medical malpractice, lab whump

also available on ao3!

Partial audio recording recovered from raid of former Astra Group research facility. Subject has been identified from accompanying documents as subject 003-CV. [rustling sounds, as if the recording device is being worn around the DOCTOR’s neck. their voice is louder than 003’s because of the resonance.] 003: W-What are you going to do to me? DOCTOR: (brightly) Mm, well, I was thinking, given your broad shoulders and larger than average chest cavity, that you would be an excellent subject for my experiments regarding the integration of a secondary pulmonary system into a living human. I believe I have found a pair that will quite fit you.[sound like velcro pulling and leather stretching] DOCTOR: Ah, take care when you pull at the restraints! They are quite secure. I would not want you to injure yourself. 003: Extra lungs? What do I need extra lungs for? DOCTOR: Just think of the applications! You could hold your breath for twice as long. With some additional modifications, perhaps even breathe in and out at the same time. Much more efficient. Though, well, you are unlikely to do either. I am not arrogant enough to assume that my first attempt at this procedure will be that successful. 003: So I’m going to die? DOCTOR: Like as not, yes.  003: Didn’t you take an oath or something? Do no harm? DOCTOR: Me? Oh, certainly not! Even if I were in the habit of making promises I did not intend to keep, my education was… unorthodox. Not that I truly mind spinning public falsehoods, but life is easier when you keep those to a minimum, I think. [the clinking of metal tools] DOCTOR: Plus, I believe those sorts of ethical quibbles only hold the art of medicine back. To truly drive progress forward, we must be willing to do what was previously held to be impossible. 003: Wait! Er, why are you doing this? Surely there’s some other way to- DOCTOR: Ah, I see. You are working with a faulty premise. I am not some young, idealistic doctor blinded to ethics by their drive to seek the truth. On the contrary, I do this because I love it! [DOCTOR laughs] DOCTOR: Slicing through skin, pulling apart sinew, grinding through bone, I find it all absolutely delightful. Hold still a minute, quick pinch coming… 003: (slurred) What… what’d you give me? DOCTOR: That should numb the pain and prevent you from moving. It is a little experimental thing I have been working on. We shall see if it works, no? 003: Please… no… DOCTOR: Hush, love. The less you talk, the less it will hurt. [slicing sounds. 003 screams.] DOCTOR: (gleefully) Oops. I lied. [more slicing sounds. 003 continues to wail and moan.] DOCTOR: (giggling) Pardon me a moment. Need to… step away to compose myself… Ah, this is incredible! [their voice is muffled, as if pressing a hand over their surgical mask. the laughter’s volume is unchanged.] 003: You’re insane! DOCTOR: (still laughing) Oh, certainly! Glad to see you understand! [more giggles and a few deep breaths, then the slicing sounds resume.] DOCTOR: Oh, this is my favourite part. [the whirring of a bone saw. the DOCTOR hums a folk tune, possibly ‘Daisy Daisy’. 003 screams louder than previously, but is cut off. recording ends.]

taglist: @athenswrites, @i-eat-worlds, @demondamage you seem invested in doc stuff so idk if you want to be tagged? just let me know!

[daintyduck99]

memorising their favourite things and treating them when they have a bad day for peterpatterlina plz!

Also tagging @jmrothwell, who asked for this prompt for any pairing, and @innytoes, who asked for it and Reggie/Anyone (it's probably not exactly what you had in mind but I got stuck on Julie being the one who had the bad day)

Julie trudges to her locker, wishing she could simply crawl inside it and power down like some kind of robot. She's really not in the mood…

"Julie!" 

…for rehearsal. She bites back a sigh. 

Luke and Reggie flank her locker, bouncing on their toes, and Julie just gives them a tight smile, sure that anything she'd say would be too sharp, or it would disappoint them, somehow.

Reggie falters, his own smile going wobbly with uncertainty. Luke, however, is unfazed, and he leans in closer, effectively blocking her from getting into her locker. 

"What?" she huffs, crossing her arms.

"We were just thinking that—it's Friday, and we should take a break. Get some snacks, watch some Buffy—"

"Paint our nails!" Reggie chimes in with renewed enthusiasm. "Just hang out."

Julie arches her eyebrows. Her eyes jump from one of them to the other before her gaze finally settles on Luke. 

"Really? Reggie, I can maybe believe, but Luke? You want to take a break from rehearsing? For 'girl stuff'?" 

"Yes?" 

He scrambles to say more as she scowls.

"Okay, maybe that's not exactly what I want. But we know you had a rough day! And we want to make it better. If that means taking a break from music to treat you—then we will. You're more important."

Julie can't help it. She softens her stance.

"Guys…you'd really do that? For me?" 

"Course we would, Jules," Reggie says warmly, wearing his widest, crookedest grin. He winks. "Special gals deserve some special treatment now and then."

A giggle escapes before she can stifle it, but Luke drowns it out when he speaks, extra loud in his own brand of enthusiasm.

"Exactly! Plus, Alex and Willie would probably love to replace our usual rehearsal time with a date. It's a win-win."

Julie smiles at the ground, then glances at them through her lashes. "Well…alright." 

They whoop and cheer, and she gives them five seconds to bask in their victory. 

"Can I get into my locker now, though?"

They freeze, flush, and stammer before finally scrambling out of the way, and Julie's laughter carries down the hall. She has to admit…she's feeling better, already. 

"You really know how to spoil a girl," she tells them later, accepting a grape from Luke, who's snuggled into her side, watching Buffy with…minimal complaints.

Reggie looks up from painting her toenails. 

"Not any girl. Just you, Julie." 

Luke hums in agreement, and Julie can't look at him. The affection in Reggie’s eyes alone is already too much, because…

There's no way they mean that the way it sounds, that they care for her the way she cares for them. It…it can't be that simple. 

But then Luke says, "He's right, boss. You're the only one we want to do this sort of thing for. Because—" 

"Oh—you couldn't have waited until I was done with her toes?" Reggie asks exasperatedly, because…oops. 

She giggles nervously and stops squirming, allowing him to continue without getting any more paint on her skin. 

"Sorry, Reggie." 

Luke just squawks. "I couldn't have waited? You cut right to the heart of it!" 

Julie holds up a finger, stalling the bickering. "Are we calling this a date?"

"That's how you cut to the heart of it," Reggie says through a grin. "I vote yes."

They look to Luke. He shrugs. 

"We can take you somewhere, if you'd rather do something more—dynamic."

Reggie hums knowingly. Julie just laughs.

"Is that what you actually want to do?" 

Luke splutters. "I—today's about you!" 

"Tomorrow, then. How's that sound?" 

"Yeah," he says dazedly. "Yeah, okay." 

And by the time their official date rolls around…she’s forgotten about the terrible start to her weekend entirely. 

[kenjakusbrainstem]

Worship (Kenjaku x Mahito)

Hello! This is for the Stalking prompt of Mahito Month, but it got a little away from me, so I'm just going to say that its alright as I have nothing planned for any of the free days. Oops, this was very fun to write and as this is going up on 7/12, it's also my birthday gift to the person that inspires me the most and is what one could consider to be a muse of. So hopefully they enjoy this as much as I did! Cross posted to Ao3 under the same name and shared to twitter as kenjakusbrain, comment or kudos if you enjoy!

Following humans at night wasn’t anything new for Mahito. He quite enjoyed the fun in choosing a human to observe and potentially turn into a toy by the end of the night. Tonight was different, his prey was no normal human, and because of this Mahito stayed a bit further back than he normally did when stalking.

Fortunately for him, the shape of the victim’s soul was very distinct. It would be nearly impossible to mix him up with someone else. It also helped that it was later at night so there weren’t as many unimportant humans out and about. He only needed to be careful about the man noticing him, and if he did, he chose not to make it known.

Earlier that evening Geto had joined Mahito in their beach hideout for a night of reading. Mahito was reading a book he had taken from Geto’s recommendation, so he wanted to make sure he read it near the man in case he had any questions or revelations about humanity. Being so absorbed in reading it took Mahito a moment or two before he noticed that Geto wasn’t reading, but looking through his phone. Mahito didn’t fully understand the need for one, but he did know that Geto was on it more often than not.

Abruptly, the man had stood before saying something about going someplace important tonight while it was empty. The curse had been confused, if Geto needed to go somewhere without people, he was already there, so he had no reason to leave. If he just meant someplace humans didn’t often go at night, he could have at least taken the curse with him. Unless he was hiding something from the curses.

It was this thought that led Mahito to trail behind Geto as he walked through the darkened city. The thought that Geto might be keeping something from them and had plans to use it against them, Mahito couldn’t believe it. Geto was a smart man, he knew he would never be able to pull one over on a group of advanced curses. At least, that's what Mahito had assumed about the man. He mostly couldn’t believe that Geto would ignore him when they were already in the middle of something, what could he possibly be doing that was more important?

It was with this thought that the curse noticed a shift in the man before him. Geto had turned away from the main path they walked down and into the entrance to, what appeared to be from this distance, a large temple. As he got closer, Mahito noticed that unlike other temple’s he’d been to, the lights in this one were all dark, even the pathway up to the stairs that led inside was unlit. Perhaps this place was abandoned? Or the people that normally watched over it were away? With what Geto had offhandedly said earlier that would make the most sense. 

The reason for their absence didn’t entirely matter, Mahito was more interested in what brought Geto here so urgently. 

He watched Geto enter the temple, still lingering out near the road. As soon as the man disappeared inside however, Mahito hesitated to continue. The soul he had been watching and using to navigate through the darkness, vanished. It was as if some sort of veil had been lifted around the building, or it had been there the whole time and he just hadn’t noticed. 

Geto would surely notice if the curse followed him into the veil. Weighing his options he decided that the odds of Geto punishing him over something like this was unlikely. Mahito was simply too curious, and the man couldn’t fault him for that!

Slinking up to the entrance, Mahito stood right outside the door, which he could now clearly feel was a veil. Reaching up he slipped one hand through, pushing open the door. Now that he knew the veil would let him in, the curse stepped in quietly. He was somewhat hopeful Geto wouldn’t notice him right away, as all his stalking up until that point would have been in vain.

The room he entered was large and well lit, despite the temple looking dark from the outside. The curse was surprised by the size, dozens of mats lay on the floor on either side of a walkway. Following it with his eyes, Mahito’s hope for secrecy was snuffed out at the sight of Geto sitting upon a large chair. Smirk plastered to his face as he looked at Mahito with some sort of restrained glee.

“I was a little surprised you decided to follow me, Mahito. I suppose there isn’t much you can do when curiosity overtakes you, what an interesting thought to be able to satiate every question you have. Well, what do you think about this?” Geto sounded as condescending as ever as he spoke. He remained seated, choosing to simply observe the curse. Part of him expected Mahito to flee since he presumably hadn’t expected Geto to know he was there.

Mahito was mildly annoyed that Geto had led him on this entire time. At least it seemed like Geto wasn’t upset that he was followed, maybe this was Mahito’s chance to actually learn more about the man. 

“What’s so important about this place? You just got up and left of course I wanted to see what you thought was more important than our reading,” Mahito was curious, but he couldn’t help but pout as he spoke. 

A small laugh escaped Geto’s lips as he beckoned the curse closer with his hand. Without question, Mahito stepped closer to Geto and further into the strange temple. Walking down the aisle toward what appeared to be some sort of throne.

“Believe it or not, I used to be worshiped by non-sorcerer humans, it’s sad how little it takes for them to see a sorcerer as a divine being. Some plans changed and I had no need for them after a while, so they’ve been taken care of,” Geto explained. He held his arms out widely, gesturing to the room around them and the mats that covered the floor, “can’t you just imagine all the humans in here, kneeling before me?”

Mahito reached the small set of steps that led him up to where Geto was seated and turned around. He supposed it would be nice to have humans, especially the weaker ones, on their knees for him. He’d never run out of people to experiment on that way. It also didn’t surprise him that humans would worship Geto, there was just something about the man that could pull a person in.

Before Mahito could reply, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Whirling around quickly the curse was startled to see Geto so close to him. He hadn’t heard the man stand up at all. Maybe he could learn a few things about stalking from him.

“Why don’t you have a seat? See what it feels like to be worshiped,” Geto whispered as he spoke. The hand on Mahito’s shoulder urged him closer to the chair behind them. 

Mahito allowed himself to be moved, normally he didn’t like being told what to do, but he was curious. Sitting down the first thing Mahito noticed was that the chair was much bigger than one needed. It seemed pointless to have one this big but he supposed that wasn’t what he was supposed to be thinking about. 

Looking around the room he could picture in his head the humans on their knees in worship, it was an amusing thought. Humans in their rightful place before him. Mahito was distracted enough that he didn’t notice Geto move out of his line of sight. It wasn’t until he felt his shoes being removed that he noticed the man again.

Geto was kneeling before him, hands deftly taking the curse’s shoes off.

“Geto! What are you doing?” Mahito asked, squirming around in his seat. He wasn’t against Geto touching him, or taking off his clothes, the suddenness of it had startled him. 

Bringing Mahito’s foot up to his face, Geto placed a kiss to the sole of the curse’s foot. Shoes forgotten on the stairs next to him, Geto used both hands to massage the somehow tense flesh. He hadn’t thought Mahito could actually work tension into his body, but the curse was on his feet most of the day, so it wasn’t too surprising that the muscles could use attention.

“I’m just giving you an idea of what it’s like to be worshiped. Just sit still and let me take care of you,” Geto said softly, his breath on Mahito’s toes making a shiver crawl up the curse’s spine.

Mahito couldn’t think of anything to say for once, he hadn’t expected this when he set out to follow Geto earlier. The feeling of Geto’s hands massaging into his flesh was nice, better than he expected. Perhaps it was because he had never really been touched there before that made it feel so good. Or maybe there was something to the way Geto moved his fingers in such a calculated manner.

Geto always seemed to know just where to touch on the curse to amplify the pleasure he felt. As if Mahito was nothing more than an instrument to be played with, and Geto had been practicing for years. Lowering his head again, Geto pressed more kisses to the foot in his hand, before setting it down in his lap and lavishing the other with the same delicate attention.

Mahito squirmed, the attention almost too much for him. Getting so much attention on a part of his body that had never been touched before, his body was sensitive. The comforting feeling and small waves of pleasure loosened his body up, making the curse crave more affection.

The large seat allowed him too much room to move around in, Mahito’s hands gripped the arm rests while he slid himself down, trying to get closer to Geto. The seat of the chair now filled with the curse’s back as Mahito moved around, mindlessly reacting to the sensations flowing through his body. Mahito’s eyes closed as he felt Geto press an open mouthed kiss to the arch in his foot.

As suddenly as the attention to Mahito’s feet started, it was taken away. Before the curse could open his eyes he could feel Geto lifting him into the air, arms wrapped around his thighs. An undignified noise left Mahito’s throat as Geto spun the two of them around, before sitting himself where Mahito had just been. Geto tried to set Mahito down standing in front of him, but the surprise of being lifted threw him off balance. Mahito stumbled slightly and fell toward Geto, arms barely reaching out in time to brace himself on the man’s chest.

“Now I did have a reason for coming here tonight, but you’ve gone and worked your way into my plans. How is it that I’m here wanting to give you pleasure for messing up my plans? What kind of hold do you have over me?” Geto whispered against Mahito’s cheek. He didn’t give the curse a chance to respond, quickly pushing the curse back and onto the feet he’d so lovingly massaged.

Mahito felt dizzy, Geto was moving him around as if he were little more than a doll to be manipulated. Geto’s words confused him as well, it seemed like he didn’t have any kind of hold over the man as Geto always did as he pleased. The two of them usually just did whatever they wanted, it just so happened that more often than not they were together.

The curse had to admit he enjoyed it when Geto’s focus was all on him, but he couldn’t see himself vying for the man’s attention. At least, he didn’t think he did. 

For Mahito however, thinking was on its way out the window as Geto’s hands left his hips and quickly began removing the curse’s pants. A soft moan leaving Mahito’s lips as Geto brushed up against his half hard cock. The brief touch was enough to make Mahito yearn for more, pressing his hips forward but finding nothing there. 

Geto’s hands had already pushed Mahito’s leather pants down to his ankles before the curse fully realized what was happening. His hands returned to Mahito’s hips, squeezing them before lifting the curse up slightly. Mahito understood what Geto was asking of him and kicked the pants off and away from his ankles. They had done this enough times that Mahito knew he didn’t want to get tangled in his silly human clothes.

Spinning the curse around again so that he was facing away from him, Geto finally pulled Mahito back into his lap. Mahito’s plush ass sitting directly on Geto’s hard cock, the pressure causing Geto to grind up into the curse.

Mahito was shocked, he hadn’t noticed Geto take his cock out at all. Had he really been too distracted to even notice that? It didn’t matter now though, the curse was too far gone. Mahito leaned forward, arching his back and allowed Geto’s cock to slide in between his ass cheeks. He was impatient, just wanting Geto to fuck him already.

Without speaking Geto moved the two of them just enough so that he was able to slide his thick cock into Mahito. Obscene moans leaving Mahito’s mouth as Geto didn’t take things slowly, pressing fully inside in one thrust. He bottomed out quickly, taking a moment to press light kisses against Mahito’s back. 

Geto could feel the curse trembling slightly, the intrusion likely too much at once even if his body was accustomed to being used like this. Pressing his legs together, Geto once again reached forward and manipulated Mahito’s body. Pulling Mahito’s legs up so that his feet rested on either side of Geto’s thighs.

“I showed you worship, now you’re going to fuck yourself on my cock. You didn’t expect this when you followed me tonight, did you Mahito?” Geto said as he ground his cock up further into Mahito’s ass. He kept one hand on Mahito’s ankle and the other was now gripping the curse’s hip. If Mahito was a human, it would have already started to bruise.

Geto’s words swam around in Mahito’s head for a moment before the meaning registered. Slowly Mahito began using the leverage of the position Geto put him in to rock himself up and down on Geto’s cock. The angle was perfect, he could feel all of the man’s cock inside him, Geto bottoming out with every thrust. 

It didn’t take long for Mahito to realize that Geto wasn’t going to be thrusting into him, and while he was a bit annoyed at first he realized he was in control. Slow rocking thrusts turned into the curse bouncing on Geto’s cock in a matter of minutes. Though Mahito wasn’t experienced in this position, he caught on quickly. 

Mahito could feel tears pricking at the corner of his eyes from the pace that he set for them. His body didn’t tire the same way a human would so the quick pace was only getting quicker as Mahito snapped his hips up and down.

Reaching down, Mahito began stroking himself, trying to match his own pace but failing to keep up. His hand and bouncing became erratic as he brought himself closer to climax with every press of Geto’s cock into his body. The overwhelming pleasure was too much for him as he blindly chased toward orgasm.

Geto wanted more though, bringing his other hand up and tightly squeezing Mahito’s hips. The curse tried to keep moving but Geto’s iron grip held him still, a sharp whine leaving the curse in protest. Before he could say anything Geto began forcing the curse down in a steady pace on his cock. The speed may have been a bit slower than Mahito’s erratic movements but each thrust was harder than the last and Mahito was a moaning mess at the pleasure coursing through him. 

The sudden loss of control paired with the harsh thrusts pushed Mahito over the edge he’d been teetering on, cum spilling into his hand as he shook in Geto’s hands. 

Geto could only manage a few more thrusts with Mahito’s ass sucking him in further as he fell apart. Leaning his head forward, Geto bit hard into the curse’s shoulder as he buried his cock inside and let go. Geto filled Mahito up completely with his cum while he sucked a large mark onto the curse’s back.

Collapsing back against the chair, Geto had a moment of relaxing before Mahito fell back on top of him. He hadn’t gotten up, but had chosen to keep Geto’s cock inside while he leaned up against the man. Resting his head against Geto’s chest, Mahito felt comfortable in his post orgasmic bliss. 

The thought rising in his head that he should follow Geto around more often if this is what became of it sprouted in his mind.

[inquisimer]

LOOK MER. you did this to me. Please could I have some Cullen & Tranquil!Neria???? With this poetry prompt? "My faith gets grime under its nails"??? Happy writing!!

oop here we go👀 thanks niri have some pain

for @dadrunkwriting

~~~

He wanted to hit something, so he did.

He slammed the meat of his fist against his desk and when the sturdy mahogany didn’t give under the blow he whirled around and threw the full force of his strength against an undeserving bookshelf. Its construction was weaker and it splintered, tomes bent and scattered.

He dropped his forehead against the now ragged edges of wood and then slumped down to the floor. Dry sobs drove shudders through his body.

The Seeker’s report crumpled in his other hand.

There was a cure.

The squeaky hinge on his door creaked, but he didn’t look up. He didn’t need to. The footsteps were even and deliberate and there was a clink of a tray against his desk. A brief rustling and Neria appeared at his side and took his hand in her much smaller one. Without a word, she plucked the splinters from his skin and then, once they were all removed, gently pressed a damp cloth to the tiny wounds.

A hiss escaped between Cullen’s teeth. The shudders were worse with her here, not so much an echo but a shout of his mistakes right in his face.

“I am sorry,” she said flatly. “Your pain will be worse if left to infection.”

He scoffed. Even after two Circles, after all this time, the Tranquil detachment was…unsettling. “Haven’t you heard?”

“Of what?”

“The cure.” He loosened his free hand and the Seeker’s report, wrinkled in his shame and rage, fluttered to the floor. Neither made a move to retrieve it.

“Yes, I was informed.” Neria’s voice didn’t change and she never stilled her movements against his hand. “It is why I am here.”

His breath froze in his throat. What—would she—

“The Spymaster suggested that the news would be distressing to you,” Neria continued, unhampered by the emotions warring inside Cullen. “Clearly she was correct.”

“To me?” Maker’s ass, Leliana, he thought. “What about you?”

Neria swapped the cloth for a small jar of elfroot paste and began dabbing it across his knuckles. “I do not understand the question.”

“I—of course not.” Cullen sagged. The conversation was helping, in some weird way, if only because the back and forth of healing was a familiar routine by now. His body no longer shook but he still felt shaky and suspected that if he tried to stand under his own power he would not succeed. “Do you have…any thoughts on the matter?”

“Not at present, no.” Neria replaced the lid of the jar and began unwinding a fresh strip bandage. “It has very little consequence to me at this point.”

“Very little consequence?” he spluttered. “Do you not want your magic restored?”

“I want to be useful. I already am. It would be unnecessary to endure the pain and suffering of such restoration simply to become useful in another way.”

She tied off the bandage and drew back, gathering the supplies. “Also, the Inquisitor will not allow it.”

“That seems highly unlike Ellana.”

“She does not feel that we know enough about the cure and its effect on the subject. To endure that process is an experiment, at present, and no Tranquil can consent to such an experience.”

That made sense, he supposed, and was exactly the sort of empathetic logic he’d come to expect from the Inquisitor. Still…

“What was done to you…what I did to you’ —Cullen swallowed, fiddling with the already fraying edges of the bandage— “that was against your will, as well. Would that not suggest that, on some level, you would like it reversed?”

“On some level, yes.” Neria returned to his side, this time with the tray of stew. “But in the current chaos, there is no advantage to such a course for the Inquisition.”

“But what about you?” He didn’t know why he kept asking. Tranquility stripped away individuality, desire, reduced it to only the barest level. Yet—

“I serve the Inquisition, Commander,” said Neria. She painted a smile on her face, small and stiff and one she’d learned to mimic for his comfort. Now it squirmed in his gut like sour milk. “The best course for it is the best course for me.”

It’s not, he thought.

“Of course,” he said. 

[writteninscarlet]

you have a tendency to make things more difficult... yet more fun. (how's that for carefully diplomatic) ;; @overclocks

‘oops… I have a crush’ prompts ;; accepting

“Even at a press conference, that statement wouldn’t hold,” she remarked, face calmly set. Neutral. Unreadable.

Alright, perhaps Tony would be able to see the slight curiosity and amusement in her eyes. And that whilst she may be standing before him, tall and arms folded, there was no tension in her body.

Truthfully, she’d not expected any response. And now she had one, Wanda wanted to be indignant over the fact she was difficult and pleased that things could be fun around her. It was a difficult balance.

In terms of being difficult, did she have a leg to stand on? She was difficult and she did make things difficult. Magic and science didn’t really go hand in hand, at least not normally. But they’d worked together enough to know where’s one reached their limit and the other could continue and there were certainly overlaps in how they worked. She could contribute most knowledge she had of tech or engineering to Tony - and amongst a few other witches she knew, even that little information made her far more informed and modern. Wanda was aware she could be emotional and she was more than simply aware of her own difficult past. But that was the past and she was moving on from it, hopefully everyone was. She was also stubborn and arrogant to boot, and with a family that were just as bad. Difficult to deal with was perhaps putting it lightly.

Besides, she’d asked. She couldn’t get annoyed at a truthful answer. Don’t ask if you don’t want to know.

The fun part was at least uplifting. She enjoyed her time with Tony, and wouldn’t deny it. He could be an absolute pain to the level of her brother and it wasn’t as though they’d never argued. But she enjoyed a debate and argue or not they could still come together after. He was fun to tease and likely one of the few not yet hexed from teasing her.

She rather enjoyed his company, that was all. That was it. Just enjoyment. It was just nice. It wasn’t anything big. Just someone who’d been through a lot of the same fights and battles as herself. Someone who had also made mistakes previously and was trying to do better. Someone she could talk to. And tease. And go to for assistance. He wasn’t a bad hugger.

It wasn’t anything serious. Not really falling for them, it was barely a trip, a stumble. All was good.

She could tell herself that, at the very least.

And perhaps that was why she shouldn’t have made an offhand comment, and why she shouldn’t have listened to his words. Because to tell her own feelings didn’t— it wasn’t something that he needed. Feelings of this sort, especially when not fully understood, were just a burden. And lightly meant or not, she could be a lot more difficult to be around.

His answer was careful and without detail. Perhaps a nice way to spare her from him going into any explanation on either count. Wanda could understand that and accept it.

“I suppose I would say the same. You’re an absolute pain. So annoying,” she said, adding a touch of dramatic exhaustion to her tone. But her smile turned sweet and warm, glancing over at him as she added, “But I still enjoy the time with you. I think things are a little more fun with you around, Tony. Certainly I would never call you dull.”

[dk-wren]

It's a day late, but here's a little update for WIP Wednesday!

Finally had time to work on a fic that was supposed to be ready for Kazurei week (oops). I have just a bit more to write and then editing it, but hoping to have it finished by the end of the weekend!

Hope you enjoy!

Rei stared at his reflection in the mirror. He had just finished tying his red tie, the final piece of what used to be his “uniform” when completing a hit. “Can’t believe I’m wearing this again,” Rei mumbled to himself. After the events at Suwa Manor a few Christmases ago, he hadn’t technically sworn to never wear a suit again, but he didn’t like all the memories associated with wearing one. Kazuki insisted on cleaning both of their bloodied and shredded clothes right after they got back from Miri’s Christmas party, so the suit itself was clean and had been collecting dust in Rei’s closet ever since. Rei tended to push it towards the side of his closet so he wouldn’t have to look at it too often. He didn’t particularly care for the suit to be hanging right in front of him whenever he got changed, pressed and clean, as if ready to be worn on his next assignment. Luckily though, that next assignment never came.  “Two, three years ago was it?” Rei thought to himself. “So much has happened since that day I don’t even remember how long it’s been since I’ve worn this suit.” At least to Rei, “so much” meant the ins and outs of “normal” life: washing the dishes, attempting to do the weekly marketing, spending a lazy weekend morning with Kazuki and Miri-everything that signaled to Rei, he was no longer just a living weapon. Signaling instead that he was part of a family, and one that loved him for who he was, and giving it his all when it came to his new title, Papa. Seeing that the three of them had been living together and operating as a family unit for some time, Kazuki threw out the suggestion of finding a local photo studio and having their picture taken. It wasn’t something Kazuki had really considered doing, but one night when their family was playing a card game on Kazuki and Rei’s bed, Miri noticed a framed picture of Kazuki and Yuzuko sitting on one of his bedside shelves. She pointed it out and asked if that was her Papa Kazuki and “Auntie Yuzuko,” drawing Kazuki and Rei’s attention to the little photo. Kazuki smiled and told her, “Yes, it is, Miri. We had that photo taken right before she passed. We didn’t know at the time it would be one of the last we took, but I’m glad to have it.” Rei caught the slightest glimmer of sadness pass over Kazuki’s face before perking back up at Miri gushing how dressed up and pretty they looked in their picture. A few days of contemplating later, Kazuki threw out the idea of having family photos taken to Rei to see what he thought, that is before he brought it up to Miri who he predicted would be all over the idea. “Sort of like making our little family official official,” Kazuki explained when pitching the idea. Rei sat watching Kazuki as he seemed lost in his thoughts for the next few moments, before continuing on, “Maybe this is a dumb idea. I think I was just fixating on the memory after Miri pointed it out. We don’t have to go get our picture taken if you don’t want to, I mean we have plenty of other photos with all of us, which I’d say still count as proof that we really are a family,” Kazuki finished. 

I guess for a little bit of context, this was meant for the Day 1 prompt "Firsts"

-Dakota Wren