#this will likely flop because of the hour but fuck it

[hoshifighting]

idk if someone asked you this but i’m a new reader and I REALLY REALLY LOVE YOUR WORKS!!!

can you please make wonwoo, the nerdy president who u thought was innocent and sweet but he’s the one behind ur fave nsfw audio creator???? AND HE’S A HARDFUCKER.. not what u expected tho..

i don’t know if i make sense but please pretty please 😭☝️

Synopsis: where you discover that the nerdy class president is the one man who creates the most nasty NSFW audios that you spend long nights listening to. WC: 2.8k WARNINGS: smut, audio porn, masturbation, hard fuck, dirty talk (obviously), bad sleeping habits (because of wonwoo), fingering, spanking, dirty talk, pussy eating, penetrative sex, protected sex, wonwoo whining, a lil invasion of privacy.

you’ve been running on fumes all day, the hazy buzz of sleep deprivation clinging to your brain like static. it’s no surprise, really. your night had gone the way it always does: you got home, flopped into your chair, threw on your headphones, and let onyx_lens—your favorite nsfw asmr creator—drag you under with that stupidly deep voice of his.

it was kind of pathetic, actually. you barely remember what the script was about—something about obedience or whatever—but you do remember the sound of his voice sinking into your brain like warm honey, making you cum so hard that you blacked the fuck out right after. now here you were, bleary-eyed and trying to stay upright in literature class, the regret of last night’s poor choices catching up with you.

wonwoo, the class president who was somehow both effortlessly chill and annoyingly observant, had been glancing at you every few minutes. you could feel his eyes on you as your head dipped forward for the third time, only to snap back up like a busted bobblehead.

but, in true wonwoo fashion, he didn’t say anything. no scolding, no judgmental sighs—just quiet observation.

when class finally ended, you were ready to yeet yourself into a nap for a solid 72 hours. you were shoving your stuff into your bag when wonwoo’s voice cut through the noise.

“you good?”

you froze. his voice wasn’t the same as onyx_lens’s, obviously, but it had that same deep, smooth timbre that made your brain short-circuit for a second. it didn’t help that his question sounded so much like something out of an nsfw script. you turned to face him, hoping your face wasn’t giving away how flustered you suddenly were. “uh—yeah,” you said, shaking your head a little too quickly. “just tired.”

wonwoo raised an eyebrow. “not sleeping well?”

your brain screamed. your tired, half-horny brain screamed louder. the overlap of his voice and onyx_lens in your head was un-fucking-bearable. you managed to nod, muttering something about late nights and deadlines, hoping he wouldn’t pry.

he didn’t, but his next question wasn’t much better.

“think you could help me with the sci-fi project? your last lit analysis was good, and i could use the extra pair of hands.”

you blinked at him. “me?”

he nodded, adjusting his glasses. “you. unless you’re too busy with...whatever’s keeping you up.”

oh, you mean my nightly sessions with onyx_lens and my vibrator?

you swallowed hard and tried to play it cool. “nah, i can help.”

and that’s how you found yourself standing outside wonwoo’s apartment later that evening, clutching your bag. his place was exactly what you’d expect from him—minimalist, neat, and smelling faintly of coffee.

“come in,” he said, holding the door open for you. “make yourself comfortable.”

easier said than done. you perched awkwardly on his couch as he set up his laptop on the coffee table, your eyes darting around the room in an attempt to ignore how nice his voice sounded in person.

“so,” he began, sitting across from you, “any ideas for the project?”

you cleared your throat, trying to focus. “uh, maybe something about robots and humanity? like, exploring ethical dilemmas or something.”

wonwoo nodded thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on you in a way that made your skin heat. “good idea. we could tie that into the main themes from class.”

he leaned forward slightly, scrolling through a document on his laptop, and you couldn’t help but notice how his glasses slipped down his nose. you were so not prepared for this level of proximity or his stupidly deep voice.

“you okay?” he asked again, glancing at you.

you blinked, realizing you’d been staring. “yeah, just...thinking.”

his lips twitched into a small, knowing smile. “good. let me know if you need a break or...anything.”

the way he said anything sent a shiver down your spine. you weren’t sure if it was exhaustion, residual arousal from last night, or the sheer presence of wonwoo in his element, but your brain was a mess.

you were supposed to be helping him with this project, but all you could think about was the way his voice would sound whispering in your ear, saying things that would make onyx_lens blush.

you were so close to winning the “most pathetic college student of the year” award it wasn’t even funny. after much back-and-forth with wonwoo, class president of your downfall, you somehow convinced him to let you walk home alone. except the man still went all soft and paid for a taxi anyway, which, like… thanks? but also stop being so nice, what the hell.

it was nearing 11 p.m. when you got home, and as if on cue, your phone pinged with a notification: onyx_lens’s weekly live is starting.

you stared at it for a second, blinking in disbelief. today’s theme? "neon circuits and orgasm denial (a cyberpunk experience) 8d audio"

sci-fi-themed. of fucking course.

you almost laughed at the audacity of the universe for this one. was this some sort of cosmic joke? was wonwoo onyx_lens?! no way. no goddamn way. you shook off the thought as delulu nonsense and dragged yourself to the bathroom for a quick sponge bath.

by the time you flopped into your chair, headphones on, the live was already in full swing. that voice—that stupidly deep, velvety voice—flooded your ears as the chat buzzed with unhinged comments. onyx purred, and you were done for.

you couldn’t even focus on the sci-fi plot he was spinning, something about rogue androids, monster cock, neon vibrators and human experimentation. his voice wrapped around you like a silk chokehold, and you were gone—just a vibrating mess in your chair, coming undone embarrassingly fast.

fast forward to the next morning: you woke up feeling like a used dishrag. again. headphones still on, your phone dead, and the memory of last night’s live replaying in your brain like a broken record.

by the time you dragged yourself to class, you were running on fumes and vibes. your hoodie was scrunched up around your face, making you look like a cross between a gremlin and an overgrown baby.

wonwoo noticed. you could feel his eyes boring into you as you tried—and failed—to stay upright. you were so close to just giving in and laying flat on the floor. honestly, it might’ve been comfier than your chair at that point.

wonwoo, sitting two rows away, looked like he was internally debating whether to intervene or let you rot in peace. when the bell rang, you startled awake like you’d been electrocuted, nearly knocking your stuff off your desk in the process.

“you okay?” he asked, falling into step beside you as you shuffled out of the classroom like a zombie.

“i’m fine,” you mumbled, voice muffled by your hoodie. “just need food. like, now.”

you detoured to the convenience store on the way to his apartment, snagging an entire kimbap roll and tearing into it like a starving animal. wonwoo followed behind, holding your water bottle with a look that was equal parts judgment and amusement.

“you couldn’t wait?” he asked, watching as you ate half the roll in one bite.

“bro,” you said around a mouthful of rice, “if i didn’t eat this, i was gonna pass out on the cold asphalt. your problem now, mr. class president.”

he rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, just handed you your water like the reluctant babysitter he was.

this was going to be a long afternoon.

you couldn’t help yourself. the suspicion had been eating away at you for weeks now, ever since you first heard his voice in class and that nagging sense of déjà vu set in. wonwoo had escaped to the bathroom, and you had the perfect opportunity to snoop.

your fingers hovered over his notebook, but then your gaze darted back to your own screen. back and forth, back and forth. his notebook. yours. the coincidences were piling up like a conspiracy wall in your head. the voice, the specific vocabulary choices, even the cadence—how did i not notice this earlier?!

“fuck it,” you whispered to yourself, grabbing his notebook and quickly pulling up the site where you normally streamed your favorite asmr creator. just to check. just to confirm your theory.

your heart pounded as the site loaded, every second dragging like molasses. the channel page opened, and at first, it seemed normal. too normal. you almost clicked away, feeling stupid for even suspecting anything.

but then you saw it: edit profile. analytics.

your breath caught, and a sharp scoff escaped you as you crossed your arms. oh, my god. the realization hit you like a freight train. it’s him. wonwoo. class president. sci-fi nerd. “how the fuck did i not notice?” you muttered, half impressed by his audacity.

you were so lost in your spiraling thoughts that you didn’t hear him return—until his voice, practically kissed your earlobe.

“what. do. you. think. you. are. doing?”

you jumped so hard your knee slammed into the underside of the desk. whipping around, you found wonwoo standing over you, his expression unreadable but his jaw tight.

“uh—nothing?” you stammered, trying to slam your laptop shut, but his hand darted out and stopped you.

“‘nothing’ doesn’t look like you snooping through my computer,” he said, his voice dangerously calm.

your cheeks burned. “okay, fine, maybe i was curious—”

“you were curious?” his tone sharpened. “curious enough to invade my privacy?”

“invade your—bro, you’re literally whispering dirty robot sex fantasies to the entire internet. how is that private?”

“that’s different!” his ears flushed a deep red, and you couldn’t tell if it was from anger or embarrassment. “that’s content. this—this is personal.”

you rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “oh, please. you’re mad i figured it out. admit it.”

he leaned closer, towering over you now, his hand pressing down on the desk beside you. “what do you want, huh? blackmail? are you gonna tell everyone?”

you laughed, loud and incredulous. “tell everyone?! dude, relax. i’m not gonna expose your little side hustle. besides…” you smirked, tilting your head to look up at him. “you should be thanking me. clearly, i’m a fan.”

wonwoo’s eyes darkened, and his lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out. 

“you’re a what?” he asks, your pulse skyrocketing as he stepped even closer, crowding you against the chair.

“did i stutter?” you whispered, the challenge clear in your tone.

his mouth crashed onto yours, teeth and tongue and frustration. you barely had time to process it before he was yanking you out of the chair, his hands rough as they gripped your hips and spun you around.

“you want to act like a brat,” he growled into your ear, his voice so reminiscent of his asmr persona that it made you roll your eyes back slighty, “then you’re gonna get treated like one.”

he bent you over the desk, the cold surface pressing against your chest as he yanked down your college skirt and underwear at once. his fingers slid through your folds, already slick just from being around him.

“so fucking wet,” he muttered, almost to himself. “you get off on this, don’t you? knowing it’s me.”

“shut your mouth,” you gasped, but it came out more like a moan as he pushed two fingers inside you, curling them and pressing them hard on your front wall.

“make me,” he challenged, his other hand coming down sharply on your ass. the sting made you gasp, your hips jerking against his hand as you tense on the desk.

the pace of his fingers was relentless, his thumb circling your clit in time with the thrusts. every part of your body was starting to be feveirsh, and you hated—hated—how easily he was unraveling you. you spent nights thinking about how it would be if onyx fucked you, and here you are. of course you would be a mess in a second.

“sorry” he mocked you. “am i too much for you?”

you clenched around his fingers, your nails digging into the desk as you tried to hold back a moan. “you talk too fucking much actually wonwoo,” you hissed.

“yeah, that's what's paying me at nights” wonwoo chuckled darkly, pulling his fingers out and flipping you onto your back with his big arms. before you could protest, he was kneeling between your legs, his mouth suddenly hot and insistent against your core, better than any other vibrator you insisted on using at night.

the sounds—the wet, obscene sounds of his tongue—mixed with your whimpers as he devoured you like a man starved. his hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as you tried to squirm away from the overwhelming sensation.

“stop—”

“stop?” he looked up, his chin glistening. “not until you admit i’m your favorite.”

you glared down at him, breathless and defiant. “you’re such an asshole.”

“and yet…” he smirked, diving back in and flicking his tongue against your clit until your head fell back, a broken moan spilling from your lips.

it didn’t take long before you were coming undone, your body shaking as his mouth pulled your clit. wonwoo didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down, dragging out your orgasm until you were a trembling, incoherent chaos beneath him.

wonwoo doesn’t waste a second after pulling back, his hands flipping you over again so you’re bent over the desk, your cheek pressed to the cool surface as he grinds against you. the thick outline of his cock rubs against your dripping folds, still covered by the soft fabric of his grey sweatpants. you gasp, your hips jerking back involuntarily, and his pearly-white smile flashes above you.

“look at that,” he murmurs, almost smug, as a dark spot begins to spread on his sweatpants from your slick. “you’re soaking me through.”

the way he emphasizes the word makes your back contort in shivers, but you’re too far gone to care. your fingers claw at the desk as he keeps humping against you, his pace quickening. when he finally pulls back, you hear the shuffle of fabric as he yanks down his sweatpants and briefs. the soft clink of a drawer opening catches your attention, and you crane your neck to see him sliding on a condom.

“you’re still melting all over my desk,” he rubs a hand over the curve of your ass. “can’t even wait for me, huh?”

before you can respond, his hand comes down sharply on your ass, the sting making you gasp. he doesn’t stop, spanking you again and again until your skin is flushed and burning.

“you look so pretty like this,” he says, his hand smoothing over the heated skin before gripping your waist and lining himself up. “all messy and desperate for me.”

when he pushes in, stretching you inch by inch until you’re full and breathless, pussy trying to clench at his big grith to adjust. wonwoo groans, his head falling forward as he sinks in to the hilt.

your walls flutter around him, and he moans at the feeling, the sound so real and raw that it sends a jolt straight to your core.

“talk to me,” you manage to gasp, your voice muffled against the desk.

he chuckles, his pace picking up as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “you want me to talk dirty? you want me to tell you how tight you are? how good you’re taking me?”

you moan in response, your hips bucking back against him as his words send you curling.

“yeah, you like that, don’t you?” he continues, his voice thick with lust. your moans grow louder, and he suddenly remembers the videos you must’ve listened to—the whining, the moaning. the thought makes his stomach flip, and he decides to give you exactly what you want.

he starts letting out soft whimpers, his voice breaking with each thrust, the sounds spilling out almost involuntarily. “fuck, babe, you’re gonna make me cum—”

the genuine desperation in his voice drives you wild, and your body clenches around him, pulling him deeper. he groans, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you’re sure they’ll leave marks, but you don’t care.

“please,” he moans, his voice high and strained. “let me cum for you. let me—fuck—”

you push back against him, meeting his thrusts as your own climax builds, your breaths coming in short, broken gasps. the room is filled with the wet, obscene sounds of your bodies moving together, and the tension snaps all at once.

you come hard, your body shaking as you cry out, and wonwoo isn’t far behind. his hips stutter, a guttural moan escaping him as he spills into the condom, his body trembling with the force of it.

he collapses over you, his chest heaving against your back as you both try to catch your breath. after a moment, he presses a soft kiss to the back of your neck, his voice still hoarse as he murmurs, “guess i’m a little better live, hm?”

you just let out a defeated moan, the coldness of the table soothing your hot cheeks.

“keep quiet about this, and i'll keep giving you more.” well, it's just an excuse that wonwoo said to fuck you over again.

[freeuselandonorris]

dando 21

wow my daniel voice is rusty lmao.

if you have no clue what a slink is or how to visualise the toy they’re using, here you go!

The box is fucking massive. Lando had paid for the upgrade to Express Post and takes great delight in letting Dan answer the door, shuffle back in clutching a box half the size of his own torso, sliders slapping against the wood floors.

“I’m guessing this was you,” Dan says, squinting at the address label. “Since it’s addressed to Ricky Bobby. Very original.”

Lando beams, makes grabby hands without moving from his position on the squashy leather sofa, feet propped up against the edge of the coffee table.

“Dare I ask?” Dan says, as Lando gets a thumb under the tape and tears it off in one satisfying strip.

He turns the box upside down. The Slink flops out like a tranquilised snake, bounces off his leg and hits the floor with a smack.

Lando looks at it, and then at Dan.

“What the fuck,” Dan says, without taking his eyes off it, “is that?”

*

Lando’s explanations are — well. Patchy at best, because he didn’t exactly give it a lot of thought or research before he hit Buy Now. But Dan relaxes once he’s established, quite firmly, that it’s not going anywhere near his arsehole.

“So, what?” he says, running the length of it idly through one hand. Lando tries not to shiver at the sight. “You’re gonna stick this whole thing inside yourself?”

Lando shrugs a shoulder, does his best to look nonchalant. “Well, you’re gonna stick it inside me, but yeah.”

“Huh,” Dan says. He reaches out and grabs Lando by the hip, rolling him onto his back and putting the toy onto his stomach, the base of it nestling just under his balls. The toy is vaguely sticky against the damp fabric of Lando’s swim shorts.

The tip of the toy reaches up past his navel.

“Huh,” Dan says again, and when Lando looks up at him, his eyes are blown dark. “That’s gonna. That’s gonna go right up there. Like — up there.”

“That’s the plan,” Lando says, and reaches for where Dan’s swim trunks are sticking out in front.

*

It takes forever to get ready, because Lando finally got round to reading the instructions on the website and realised he was gonna have to do a better job of cleaning himself out than his usual hot shower and hope for the best. He’s had no breakfast or lunch. He’s spent the best part of an hour locked in Daniel’s second-biggest bathroom with a fucking enema bulb, and missed going out on the dirt bikes. It better be worth it.

Dan’s unshowered, smelling ripe, just the way Lando likes him best. His muscle tee barely covers his nipples. Lando feels like he’s in some sort of porn, lying on a bath towel with his knees pulled up to his chest and four of Dan’s fingers fucking into him with increasingly squelchy sounds, lube everywhere already. It’s nothing particularly out of the ordinary for them, but it feels different, somehow. More obscene.

When Dan picks up the Slink, it almost skids straight out of his slippery hands and he swears, fighting with it briefly until he’s got one hand tight around the base and the other around the business end. Lando bites his lip to stop himself making a Steve Irwin joke.

“This is — I need three hands,” Dan complains, still wrangling. The toy is soft, flexible. Lando thinks about it going inside him, settling into the contours of his insides, and whines. He’s already leaning against his stomach, just from the thought of it.

When the lubed, pointed tip presses into him, it’s almost an anticlimax. Barely bigger than the width of Dan’s thumb, it slips inside him with no resistance at all. Dan had fucked him last night, opened him up again with impatient fingers earlier, so it makes sense that it’s easy to start off with. But still, a bit of him thinks: is that it? maybe this’ll be easy.

He keeps on thinking that until Dan feeds it maybe six inches into him, and then he stops.

“Okay, that’s — yep.”

Lando hadn’t been able to bring himself to say the words internal sphincter to Dan, not least because he wasn’t entirely sure how to pronounce them. So he’d simply said the instructions reckon you’ll hit a point where it’s like — another hole, but inside. So you have to go carefully, yeah?

It’s a weird sensation. He can feel it in his insides. Pressure, insistent and achy like a stomach ache but good, somehow. It does feel good.

Dan’s wearing his concentrating face, the frown lines between his eyebrows creased deeply as he nudges the toy forward, millimetre by millimetre.

They both gasp when it pushes inside. Into some deep part of Lando that he’s never even really considered before, just some vague confusing memories of diagrams from school he’d paid no attention to.

He makes a sound, somewhere between a gasp and a grunt. Dan glances up at him, worry in his features.

“It’s fine,” Lando says. He sounds breathless. “Go on, just — slow, yeah? Slow and careful.”

And that’s what Dan does. Slowly, carefully, he feeds the rest of the toy into Lando’s body. Until Lando’s soaking sweat into the towel beneath him, eyes screwed closed, breath coming out in quick little gasps. Jesus, he’s full.

“Nearly there,” Dan says, quiet and throaty. “Fuck, man, this is — fucking nuts.”

Lando tries to laugh. It comes out as a kind of strangled gurgle. The motion of it makes his insides shift about, and he can feel it. His guts being rearranged, literally, around the thick silicone twining through them. Fuck, fuck.

He barely registers the stretch in his hole as Dan pushes the toy past its widest point and settles it snugly into place. He’s too busy breathing. Feeling the way his ribcage expands with each inhalation and the knock-on effect it has, rippling all the way down.

“Do I, like…” Dan breaks off with a strained laugh. “Do I fuck you with it, or?”

Lando almost laughs before he remembers that Dan has no clue what this feels like. That he’s got no idea how impossible an idea that is, that Lando wants to lie very still and luxuriate in the fullness forever. “Nah, it’s not like that. I read that I can do it myself by like — squeezing?”

Dan makes an indistinct noise. He’s rubbing himself through his boxers, staring down at Lando.

“You know I can see it, right?”

Lando blinks sweat from his eyes. He can barely think straight. He experiments, one clench, and fights to stop his eyes rolling back in his head. “Oh my God. See what?”

Dan leans forward. Lando’s cock jumps against his lower stomach hopefully, but Dan bypasses it and presses the tight drum of his belly instead, breathing hard. “I can see it inside you.”

God. That’s. Lando lifts his head, craning downwards to check and — yeah. Dan’s right. A little unnatural bulge in his belly, pushing up against the tight muscles of his abs.

“Oh, fuck,” Lando says, wobbly.

Dan covers it with his hand, massaging gently. He’s got his other hand shoved inside his shorts now, moving in sharp jerks, upper lip glazed with sweat behind the moustache. He looks as far gone as Lando feels.

“Come on,” Dan says, rough and giddy. “Let’s see what you can do, baby.”

Lando’s eyes do roll back his head then, and not even because he’s cringing at Dan’s porno dialogue. He’s clenching hard around the base of the toy, over and over, feeling it shift inside his body, feeling the answering pressure of Dan’s hand, like he’s being fucked through his own skin.

“Oh my God,” he says again, gasping, breathless. His voice rises to a high whine. “This is — oh my God, Dan, fuck.”

The orgasm hits him from the inside first. His cock jerks, red and swollen, but he doesn’t come. He’s shuddering, rolling his hips, making guttural sounds. Dan rubs his stomach through it, shifting the toy inside him and sending fresh waves of pleasure up his spine.

“Dan,” Lando whines, and Dan swears.

His hand leaves Lando’s stomach, and there’s a brief second of nothingness until Dan presses his fingers against the flat base of the toy and pushes hard, vibrating it with his fingers like he’s rubbing a cunt. Lando makes a sound he will later deny is a scream and spurts all over his swollen belly. He barely notices Dan’s groan of release a few seconds later, soaking the inside of his shorts.

It takes Lando a long time to come back to himself. He jumps a little when Dan’s mouth crashes into his, kissing him hungrily, a little violently. He tastes like salt and adrenaline.

“You’re fucking crazy,” he says against Lando’s mouth. “Next time I wanna do that with my fist.”

[jackactuallywrites]

All Seeing, All Knowing, All Loving: Part 6

Rating: Not safe for work in the way that Simon is literally not safe in the workplace.

Warnings: War, artillery

Summary: Who could possibly be calling you after months of silence? HMMM

Notes: It’s small because I’m still digesting Christmas dinner x

Word Count: 755

ao3 link

Who the fuck was calling you at such an ungodly hour?

You were still recovering from the deathly hangover you’d incurred from New Year’s Eve, as well as the truly horrifying amount of cheese, chocolate, and meats you’d ingested over the holiday period, having taken to bed at tea time, when you were woken by the buzzing of your phone, and that god awful ring tone one of your colleagues had snuck onto your phone. You really needed to turn it off; a meowed classic Nokia ringtone was funny for all of five seconds, but now it was nails on chalkboard.

It would go to voicemail if it was important, and nobody in your family was dying or pregnant, so you decided you could ignore it, clicking the lock button to reject it.

You should have known it wouldn’t have worked.

As soon as you’d rejected the call, it started up again, buzzing relentlessly under your pillow. Clearly, whoever was on the other end wasn’t deterred by the idea of waking you from peaceful slumber. Prick.

Resigned to your fate, you grabbed your phone from under your pillow, squinting at the number suspiciously. You didn’t recognise it. If it was spam, you might have to go on a murder mission.

“Hello?”

“Evenin’”

“Evening?” You looked at your phone,

“It’s four in the bloody morning!”

“I do apologise. Didn’t have a chance to ring you earlier.

Hm. That voice was increasingly familiar. That Mancunian accent, the gruff, blunt tone.

“Cunt.”

“Aye.”

Yeah, it was him. You hadn’t thought about him in a while. Well, that was a lie. You thought about him every time you opened your wallet and saw his ID card next to your bank cards. He just wasn’t as present, was no longer the monster hiding in your cupboards or under your bed. You didn’t look over your shoulder for his bulky figure or try to spot his car on the street. It had been a good month or two of peace, until now.

“Still alive then?”

“So far.”

You wondered where in the world he was. British military did seem to find themselves sticking their noses into a lot of things that weren’t at all their business. You knew he wouldn’t tell you where he was, he couldn’t.

“Where are you?”

He just sighed on the other end of the line. That was followed by a loud boom, powerful enough that it made the audio coming from your phone go tinny and weird, and then, a loud metal clunk.

“The fuck are you doing?”

“What does it sound like?”

“Fucking scary is what it sounds like! Why are you calling me in the middle of a damn battlefield? Shouldn’t you be in a fucking bunker or something where there’s a) no signal, and b) actual safety?”

“Wouldn’t be much of a blade if I cowered in a bunker would I?”

Typical.

“My God, why, why are you calling me?”

“Just wanted to wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year.”

The man was fucking insane.

“Right. Sure. Thank you. And merry Christmas and happy new year to you as well. Now will you focus on the not dying please?”

“Sentimental?”

“Fuck off.”

“Aye, figured you were. I’ll be back in one piece.”

“Joy.”

“Aye, miss you too.”

The man missed you? Were you dreaming? You sat up in bed, staring at your phone, bewildered. There was only one possible answer.

“Are you drunk ?”

“Mm. Little.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“They do good beer here. S’nice.”

“Simon, don’t-“ there were too many things that you didn’t want him to do. “Just, don’t be a dick, alright?”

“Tall order. I’ll do my best.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, flopping back on your pillows.

“I’m going back to sleep. Don’t die.”

“Aye ma’am.”

The call beeped, ending what had been perhaps the strangest conversation of your life. Ghost really knew how to make an entrance back into your head. Already, you were obsessing. Where was he? Was he safe? Well, you already knew he wasn’t. But how unsafe was it? What were the statistics, the deaths? It bothered you that you couldn’t find out. At least there was one thing you could google.

It took some time for your search engine to realise that you didn’t want information on knife blades, the blades from the elder scrolls, or various football teams, with you having to specify ‘who are the blades army uk’ before you finally got your answer.

The SAS.

Good fucking God .

[biblical-chronicles]

Getting high pt.2

____________________________________________

where what happened gets addressed at a family gathering

pt.1 for all who just joined here

____________________________________________

The morning sun pushed its way stubbornly through the drawn curtains of Liam’s bedroom, casting unwelcome light over the messy sheets and discarded clothes from the night before. Liam groaned, squinting against the brightness as he stretched an arm out across the bed—only to find it empty.

His stomach sank instantly.

“Ah, fuck,” he muttered to himself, sitting up too quickly and regretting it as the pounding in his head hit him full force. The night replayed in fragments: your nervous laugh, the way you’d nestled close to him on the couch, and then how everything had changed with that kiss. He ran a hand over his face, his fingers catching in his hair as his thoughts raced.

Did you regret it? Was it too much? He’d meant it—every second of it—but maybe you hadn’t. Maybe waking up in his bed, wrapped in the aftermath of what you’d shared, had been too overwhelming for you.

He looked over at the spot where you should have been. The indent of your head on the pillow was still there, but the sheets were cold. You’d left hours ago.

Liam groaned again, louder this time, dragging himself out of bed and reaching for his phone. He debated texting you but couldn’t bring himself to do it. What could he even say?

Had a nice time last night, shame you legged it before we could talk?

He flopped back down on the bed, staring at the ceiling as doubts consumed him. What if you felt he’d taken advantage? What if you’d only gone along with it because of the weed or the moment? What if he’d just ruined everything—your friendship, your trust, everything that had made you feel safe enough to come to him in the first place?

“Idiot,” he muttered under his breath. He should’ve known better.

Hours passed in restless overthinking, each tick of the clock reminding him that avoiding you wasn’t an option. Not with the family gathering later that week. He knew you’d be there—just like you always were at these things—and the thought of seeing you filled him with equal parts dread and hope.

The house buzzed with life, filled with the familiar hum of overlapping voices and the occasional burst of laughter. Normally, gatherings like this brought a sense of comfort, a reminder of belonging, but tonight was different. Tonight, it felt like the walls were closing in.

You stuck close to the drinks table, fiddling with your glass to avoid engaging too much. Every time the door opened, your heart jumped, knowing Liam would eventually walk in.

You felt him before you saw him. That shift in the air, the presence you’d grown so used to over the years, yet it carried a weight tonight you weren’t prepared for. You dared a glance in his direction, and there he was, greeting everyone with his usual attitude, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world.

It stung more than you expected.

You turned back to your glass, staring at the water swirling inside it, hoping he wouldn’t come over. What would you even say? Sorry for running off this morning? Sorry for not being brave enough to face what happened?

The thought made your stomach twist.

“Alright?”

His voice came out of nowhere, low and casual, and you froze before forcing yourself to look at him. There he was, leaning against the table like he hadn’t just flipped your world upside down less than a week ago.

“Hi, Liam,” you said, trying to sound normal. Trying to act like everything wasn’t burning inside you.

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Didn’t see you in a bit.”

Your fingers tightened around the glass. “I, uh… have to get somewhere” The lie felt flimsy, and you knew he could see right through it.

“Right. Course you do.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. You wanted to say something, anything, to fill the gap, but every word felt wrong. You hated how distant he felt, how the easiness between you two had been replaced by this awkward, fragile thing neither of you knew how to handle.

When he finally walked away, you let out a shaky breath, relief and regret battling it out in your chest.

You tried to blend into the background after that, keeping your interactions light and brief. But you could feel Liam’s presence wherever he was, like a gravitational pull you couldn’t escape. Every so often, you caught him looking at you, and every time, you quickly looked away, your cheeks turning red.

Your mind kept replaying the fateful night: the feel of his lips, the way his hands had held your face like you were something precious. It had been overwhelming, yes, but it hadn’t been wrong. Far from it.

Still, you couldn’t shake the fear that maybe he regretted it now. Maybe that’s why he’d been so quiet earlier, his words careful, his tone distant.

It wasn’t until dessert was being served that Liam cornered you. You were leaning against the wall, sipping the last of your drink, when he appeared in front of you, his expression unreadable.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Can we… talk?” His hand rubbed the back of his neck, a telltale sign that he was nervous.

You glanced around the room, aware of the curious eyes and ears nearby. “Not here,” you murmured, setting your glass down.

He nodded, stepping aside to let you lead the way, and your heart pounded as you headed toward a quieter corner of the house.

You stopped in the hallway near the back of the house, far enough from the noise and prying eyes. Liam lingered a step behind you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, the usual confidence in his posture dimmed.

You turned to face him, your arms crossed more to steady yourself than anything else. “What did you want to talk about?”

He hesitated, glancing down at the floor before meeting your gaze. “About that night,” he said, his voice low and careful. “I just… I think I went too far.”

Your brows furrowed, the weight of his words sinking in. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he started, then huffed in frustration, running a hand through his hair. “You pegged it in the morning, didn’t ya? Figured you regretted it or summat. Reckon I might’ve… messed things up between us.”

Your heart clenched at the vulnerability in his voice, the way his usual bravado seemed to crumble.

“No, Liam, that’s not—” you began, but he interrupted.

“Listen,” he said, taking a small step closer. “I just… I wanna say sorry, alright? For puttin’ you in that position. I don’t want things to be weird between us.”

You took a breath, your chest tightening at the thought of him beating himself up over something that wasn’t his fault. “Liam, I didn’t leave because of you,” you said gently.

His eyebrows knit together in confusion. “What d’you mean?”

“I mean,” you sighed, shifting uncomfortably, “I left because of me. I got in me own head, overthought it all. It wasn’t too much. If anything, it was too good.”

The lines on his face softened, a flicker of relief replacing the worry in his eyes. “So… you don’t regret it, then?”

“No, not for a second.”

He stared at you, his lips parting slightly, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “Bloody hell, I thought I’d scared you off or summat. Had me thinkin’ I was a right twat.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips. “No, Liam. I promise, it wasn’t that.”

“Well, thank fuck for that,” he breathed, a laugh escaping him. “Been stressin’ all bloody week, y’know.”

You stepped closer, your arms dropping to your sides as the tension between you began to melt away. “I should’ve said summat sooner. I’m sorry for making you think otherwise.”

He shook his head, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Nah, don’t be daft. Just glad we’ve got it sorted.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence wasn’t awkward—it was loaded, warm, and buzzing with something unspoken. His eyes met yours, and there was something in them you hadn’t dared to hope for before.

“You mean a lot to me, you know that?” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He took another step closer, so close you could feel the warmth of him. “You mean a lot to me too, love,” he murmured. “More than I’ve let on, probably.”

Without thinking, you leaned in, your lips meeting his in a soft, hesitant kiss. For a moment, it was gentle, but then Liam responded more, pulling you closer with a hand at your waist. The kiss deepened, his tongue brushing against yours in a slow, deliberate motion that made your chest tighten.

You leaned into him, your fingers clutching the fabric of his jacket as his tongue teased yours again, more confident now. The way he kissed you wasn’t rushed—it felt steady and sure, like he’d been waiting for this as long as you had.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, he stayed close, his forehead resting against yours.

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. “this has been on me mind for ages now” you said softly, your heart pounding.

The grin that tugged at his lips made yours curve up in return, the moment feeling just right in its simplicity.

____________________________________________

big up @leaawrites for suggesting this, I love you so much xx

hope all you lot like it too, I'm excited to get back to scribblin' fer ya !

[doubledeadstudio]

Finally got the courage to ask a question (Happy New Years Eve/ Day whenever you see this) but just a general question

What was the creative process of making Reanimated Heart, Another Rose in his Garden and Pygmalion’s Folly? What was the inspiration behind those three games? What was your favorite one to work on? Do you plan to make new games in the future?

Happy New Year to you too, anon! I love questions like these. The development and creative process is something I'm very passionate about.

Creative Process? Inspiration? (Just shoving both of this in one, long discussion about how these things came to be)

Okay, you guys will probably think I'm an insane person, so let me explain how I got started on them...

I first started with RH (of course) when my friend Tay told me about this game she was playing where a character really resembled Crux (it was Markus from Red Embrace: Hollywood). And I played it because of that, and I was like, damn??? He really does? And I was on the path of my artist journey that I was like looking at the game assets and the dialogue and stuff where I was like... Wait, I can do that. I can write like this. I can draw everything. Who's stopping me? I had a dream with the tree, and I started writing dialogue in "hypothetical" VN scenarios, and I was like... okay, fuck it, I already got disowned by my family and I wanna kill myself, I've got nothing left to lose.

So I started pre-development for Reanimated Heart and wrote like about 20,000+ words, made sprites and backgrounds, spent an ungodly amount of money for music and fonts and did research, and released the Prologue on itch. It ended up kind of a flop? And I was honestly so mad for years LMFAO, but I kept at it because I liked making it. And then a fan, Ashe, contacted me out of nowhere and suggested I improve my socials. (Thanks Ashe.)

All in all, I think that, if RH never gathered attention... I would still be making it, but releases would've been shorter and weirder, and it wouldn't have the level of polish it does now because "nobody's playing this shit anyway." But having a fandom motivates me to push past my comfort, and inspires me to do releases semi-regularly. So, thank you guys for the support. :>

Anyway, enough RH rambling. Another Rose happened because a couple of members in the chat (I remember Maz and Chat in particular) kept joking about Omegaverse and I've never like... consumed any Omegaverse before, and I literally had no fucking clue what it was other than mpreg and werewolves. And I was like drinking that day and I got intrigued. And I kept thinking about the scenarios and became like ACTUALLY invested, but I didn't know anything about it still, so I kept asking Maz about it and she really helped hash out the "lore" and gave me really good scene suggestions. I honestly think Another Rose is the most indulgent of all my games because...

First of all, it's just straight porn. Second, aside from the quality of the work, I don't think about the audience, at all. There's only a price point to it but it's basically like a smut novel with some path deviations (that also just read to different porn)? Third, I'm like... I'm not going to lie, obsessed with my husband's OC Mars. And it's funny af to me how people ended up disliking him, because this whole game was like just my personal (smutty) love letter to how much I love that godawful man.

For Pygmalion's Folly... There had been long discussions in my server about murdersims. I'll be honest, I didn't get them at first, but I think Adri framed it in a way that I understood it, which was like... it was a morbid fascination to how bad things can get in situations like that. So I ended up playing the first BTDs and obsessively finished TPOF to the point I was having dreams about it, and I'm not going to lie, I had a dream! Again!! And it was Florentin killing the MC over and over. I woke up in a haze and wrote like the first 3000 words of the game in a frenzy with just 2 hours of sleep, and I was like, okay. This is getting made for sure. And because Adri was the avid murdersim fan, I consulted with them about the game, and they were the one that suggested the stats system, as well as some scenarios for endings.

So I guess tl;dr I cannot explain how I make games to you guys because they just kind of form when I'm drunk or get prophetic dreams.

Favorite to Work On?

Honestly, I loved working on all of them equally, believe it or not. (I equally also hate all of them when I'm crunching for the release. /jk)

The thing about these characters is that they're all OCs that are near and dear to my heart, ones that I've had for YEARS (I've had Vin for 12 years, can you imagine that?), and seeing all of them in action excites me so much.

I love that I got to make Abel the protag and I love that I got to put him in fun, sexual situations. I love that I managed to show off Florentin's special powers, and draw amazing grisly CGs with him. I love that Black, Vin and Crux are different, romanceable characters, that you can go to their houses, that you can see CGs with them, that you can follow their character development and be invested in their secrets, that they even have awesome voice actors that bring them to life!

And I love that so many of you also love them too, and write fic of them and draw them... Honestly, that's already my dream, and I'm so happy about it.

New Games in the Future?

Absolutely, yes! I got the VN dev bug and you guys will have to chase me out of here, LMAO.

But this year, considering how busy I'd be... I'd say probably not in case something really pushes me to make something (like, I had an idea I can't stop thinking about). My top priority right now is Reanimated Heart's Chapter 1 finale, and I have some free DLC I'm thinking of adding for Another Rose and Pygmalion's Folly, so those will probably get prioritized first.

[zepandovski]

TY ALL SO MUCH FOR 350 FOLLOWERS QWQ IM REALLY GLAD TO HAVE ALL OF U ENJOYING MY DRAWINGS

i've never expected to get this much following ;; so really, ty all for being here, i love u guys so much <33

[exhausted-undead]

i swear im alive (I wish I wasn't after drawing this) hah

drew this based of the part in the leroux novel where erik plays desomonda on the harp for christine until she falls asleep (thank @or-what-you-will for the idea)

(also this was initially drawn with christine, uh, not in a chemise so that's a fun fact)

[seokmattchuus]

When Matthew tells you he's been a bit stressed with debut preparations, you help him get his mind off of things. With some handcuffs and a torturous, never-ending hand job.

[elmasinthetree]

whoopsie doodles!

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

me when the dissociation causes memory loss: *surprised Pikachu*

[abimee]

cabbage and onion and kielbasa fried up in butter served with some sour cream and yellow mustard is a staple here, and if you see frozen pierogi those go bomb with it, but just those 3 work real good too. jsyk though, go onion til almost caramelized, then cabbage and a little bit of water with it to steam it while cooking, then take it out and fry the kielbasa separately so it gets nice and yummies :)

hmnmmmm THAT sounds delicious ty anon

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

i love it when shit happens in my life that dredges up old wounds and coincidentally im re-experiencing the media i intrinsically link it to cause then i get to remember exactly why i love it and find it so meaningful all over again. there's a fucking reason ill always say Berserk [& RGU] both came into my life at a perfect fucking time and holy shit they fucking resonated with me so hard and as much as life can suck ass and lovvves kicking me in the balls when ive just recovered from last time i a least get to remember how & why i love something so much.

[todayisafridaynight]

*walks in covered in blood* i finished first penguin. i reaaaaally really loved it oh my goddd all these peepaws being so dramatic and sulking wow grow up.. IWASAKI WAHHHH she was so cool and so awesome and so smart and she helped so much oh my god and she problem solved and and and WAHHHHH i think my fave parts were when she got Very Loud i kept saying damn girl at my screen each time she put her foot down UGH and the conflicts and the solutions and the AUUGHHHHHH. anyways loved it why am i sobbing over the ending though.

BRO MFINISHED IT HELLO ??? ?? IM S GLAD YOU FINISHED IT- AND SO QUICK JESUS CHRIST--

BUT YEAAAASSSSSS YES I LOVE IWASAKI THIS AN IWASAKI STAN CLUB !!!!! i LOVE LOVE LOVE how patient and fair she generally is but she also doesn't allow people to do whatever they want. BUUUTT I ALSO LOVE how on top of correcting people in that passive-aggressive way, she isn't afraid to get ABSOLUTELY irate and really let someone have it- IT'S JUST SO GOOD and i NEVER really see it with lady protags so i was a HUUGE fan whenever it happened

ENDING WAS SO TWISTED THO MAAADDDD UNFAIR TO IWASAKI (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)(;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)(;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`) like i GUESS she did was she was paid to do in the end but..... THATS HER FAM CMON NOW (;´༎ຶx༎ຶ`)

i fuckin. LOVE the fishermen they deadass collectively share exactly ONE (1) brain cell and it's frustrating sometimes but it's also the stupidest and cutest thing i ever seen (╯▽╰ ) THE BIT IN LIKE- EP 3 I THINK WHERE THEY'RE ALL CHASING AFTER IWASAKI TO APOLOGIZE ALWAYS MAKES ME GIGGLE THO i think of it far too often for my own good its so cute... like Goddamn They Really Are A Batch Of Penguins...

[kingofmyborrowedheart]

Experienced the worst period cramps I have ever had at two this morning.

[hencheri]

i do wanna write long stuff but i can't let myself have a 5k+ words fic flop like it always does with wayv like i would genuinely tear up . ik how it might sound but imagine spending hours on a fic and it making 50 notes 😭😭 & maybe 2 silent reblogs 😭 can't relate bruh 🙄

[antiparticular]

.