#violation fic

[zyanova]

Happy birthday, love(?) Dad.

(@decepticonsuggestionbox will more fanart make you write more chapters???)

[zyanova]

YEAHHH THAT'S US 💜💜💜💜💜

[s0fter-sin]

ghost who was chemically castrated by roba and soap who wants to help him to regain his sexual autonomy

nsfw, angst, roba, unnegotiated unsafe but consensual gun play, hopeful ending

💀🧼

ghost walks like it hangs low.

there’s a tilt to his hips and a spread in his thighs and johnny’s never been able to stop staring.

and ghost’s never asked him to.

he knows he’s seen him; he’s not exactly discreet. he swears he’s even seen him cock his hips out before to give him a better view. but he always pulls back just as they toe the line; verbal cold water on the tentative heat they almost can’t help but spark when they’re together.

it’s never a no; johnny’s not so selfish of a cunt that he’d push when he knows he isn’t welcome. it’s always a reluctance; an “i wish i could,” never in so many words. an open ended “but…” as ghost circles the reason without ever actually saying it. johnny knows it’s something personal, something more than a difference in rank could ever excuse.

so he backs off when ghost does, jokes instead of flirts and holds his breath through the agonising wait until ghost lets him in close again. waits to know if he’ll let him close again.

it’s almost anticlimactic, the end of their dance; his delicate steps and looping logic to work out why bulldozed as ghost comes out and says one random night, “i can’t fuck.”

it’s not bitter. it doesn’t grate coming out of his throat; he doesn’t spit it like it’s something to be ashamed, not twisted with insecurity as if it’s an accusation by an ex.

it’s a statement of fact.

“you can’t fuck,” johnny echoes anyway because even if it is the reason, the big why… it still doesn’t really answer anything.

“i can’t get it up,” he elaborates, this horrid blankness in his eyes like he’s reading from a script. “whatever you’re looking for, whatever you want- i can’t give it to you.”

johnny just looks at him, the chill air prickling his skin. “right,” he nods calmly. “because my interest in you starts and ends with your dick.”

that blank calm shatters. “johnny…” he warns.

“do you really think i’m that shallow?” he cuts in, curing himself for the way his voice breaks but he never thought ghost would think so low of him; that this whole time, ghost’s thought that’s the only thing he wants from him. “like i’d take you for a ride ‘n just drop you?”

“there’s a difference between not gettin’ it for one night and never gettin’ it at all,” ghost growls, turning his back on him to lean against the edge of the roof. his shoulders heave and the anger seeps from him in one long breath. “it’s not a hitch, johnny. not a performance issue or ptsd or whatever the fuck you’re thinkin’. it’s permanent. irreversible.”

irreversible.

johnny stops, cold creeping up his limbs and dousing his defensive anger. ghost is many things and when it comes to his words, chief amongst them all is deliberate. he didn’t say it’s unfixable. incurable.

irreversible.

johnny buries his selfish hurt and scuffs his boots, an unobtrusive warning of movement, and comes up beside him; just enough distance between them to catch their breaths. he leans back against the ledge and looks over the opposite side of the roof at the dark sky.

“mexico,” he murmurs. not an accusation. not even really a question but ghost collapses in on himself anyway; sinking into his crossed arms digging into the ledge.

“mexico,” he agrees just as quietly. “‘pparently, roba found it more entertaining to let me keep it but- cut the cords. more demeaning that way; cock’s gone, at least you don’t feel the urge. don’t have to look at the fuckin’ thing hang there when nothin’ fuckin’ works.

“it’s not ‘bout how i see you, johnny,” ghost promises and it’s almost apologetic. “but you like sex. eventually, you’ll want it. and i can’t give it to you. easier to just… not let it get to that point.”

johnny’s jaw flexes. everything in him wants to reject it, wants to protest that something as trivial as an orgasm is more important to him than ghost.

but he also knows words are useless here.

they stand there looking out into the gathering dark, tense silence hanging between them, and the only thing johnny knows is if he isn’t careful, he could lose the one person he cares about most.

💀🧼

ghost’s been uneasy since his abrupt confession.

he knows it was sudden, borderline cruel to dump his shit on johnny with no warning but he just couldn’t take it anymore; couldn’t take the back and forth when he knew it would never go anywhere, couldn’t take johnny’s hope when he knew he’d have to watch it twist into disgust and pity.

into disappointment.

he figures that’s the end of it; there’ll be no more flirting now, no more staring or heated looks, no more teasing him by spreading his knees out just to see the flash of hunger in his eyes. the control he felt playing with johnny knowing it was welcome, just because he could- he’ll never feel that again. not now that johnny knows the truth.

then he steps into his room to find johnny laying naked on his bed.

he’s not spread out like an offering, not throwing him some cheap sultry glance as he plays with himself. he’s not even hard; his cock limp over the cradle of his balls, his legs bent loosely together, arms under his head as if he’s settling down for the night.

ghost sighs and shuts the door behind him. “johnny…”

“i know,” johnny says and it’s gentle; not cutting him off, just getting his attention. “just… hear me out?”

there’s nothing else to say. there’s nothing johnny can say or do to fix his violated body. but ghost still crosses his arms and leans back against the door like he can anyway.

johnny pushes himself up and off the bed, closing the distance between them but still giving him enough space to breathe; to open the door behind him, to escape.

“i can never know what was taken from you,” he starts and ghost’s fingers dig into his arms. “i can never know what it means to you. and i can never get it back.”

he doesn’t break eye contact and slowly lowers himself to his knees. “but i can give you something else.”

“you?” ghost guesses flatly and as much as it warms his blood, as much as he’s imagined having johnny look up at him just like this… it’s still not enough to offset the sickening swoop in his gut when his cock doesn’t so much as twitch.

“i’m a nice bonus,” johnny purrs but his smile remains gentle. “but i’m not the main event.”

he lifts a hand and ghost readies to smack it away when he reaches for his thigh holster instead of his belt. he flicks the closing strap open and pulls his handgun, his favourite, free.

“you told me you can’t fuck,” he murmurs, popping out the clip. he taps it against the side and loads it back in with a practiced hit with the butt of his palm. “but fucking isn’t all there is.”

“johnny, what…” ghost starts just to cut himself off as johnny thumbs off the safety and loads a round into the chamber.

“you trust me?” johnny asks and it’s as loaded as the gun in his hand.

good then, that ghost knows the answer. “always have.”

johnny’s smile blooms with warmth, with pride, and it chases away any reluctance he could possibly feel. he lets him take his hands in his, wrapping them around the gun with his finger on the trigger guard. he brings the barrel up beside his temple, holding it steady before his hands fall away.

until it’s only ghost between him and a bullet.

johnny’s hands go to his belt, his movements slow enough for ghost to stop him long before he reaches his cock, forever hanging limp in his pants. but he just rubs the muzzle along his temple, almost nuzzling him with the gun as he pulls down his jeans and boxers.

he waits for johnny to take him in hand, maybe try and pantomime a handy, and his hips almost recoil at the thought.

but he doesn’t try to touch him.

instead, he takes his wrist and guides the gun to sit in front of his cock; angling it to follow the same slight curve he has then holds his hands behind his back like he’s standing at attention. he splays his knees wide, sinking deeper and ghost sucks in a harsh breath as johnny ducks under the gun; his eyes locked on his as he curls his tongue under the barrel and brings it into his mouth.

it takes every ounce of will he has to not let his hand shake around the gun as johnny gives it the slowest, messiest blowjob he’s ever seen; slowly rising higher on his knees, guiding the gun up with him as if it’s his cock hardening. his cheeks hollow as he sucks, tongue laving up the barrel and flicking out to play with the muzzle like a cockhead, moaning with every bob of his head until saliva drips off the metal and makes a mess of his chin.

ghost’s never felt so powerful as he does watching johnny hang off the end of his gun; watching his cock harden and drool between his legs without a single touch, knowing he could pull the trigger at any time and johnny would not only let him but he’d thank him.

the thought breaks him from his paralysis, drawing the gun from his lips and johnny immediately stills; rolling his wide eyes up like he’s trying to check on him. ghost pushes every ounce of heat into his gaze and cocks the gun to the side, slowly pushing it back in until johnny’s lips meet the trigger guard.

johnny whines as he fucks his mouth, thrusting his hips along with each long drag like the gun is an extension of his body; almost too rough as tears prick his eyes and his lips redden and bruise but he never asks him to stop; his cock leaking a puddle on the floor beneath him.

“you gonna cum for me, johnny?” ghost croons, holding back a groan when just his voice is enough to make him shiver. “gonna cum with my fucking gun down your throat?”

he gives a broken whimper, as close to an agreement as he can make, and ghost crowds in close. he grips the base of his mohawk, wrenching his head back until his throat is flush to the front of his thigh. johnny lets out a choked cry, eyes rolling back and he doesn’t hold back as he brutally fucks his face; feeling the bulge of his gun in his throat against his leg.

“come on, johnny; you wanna be my good little holster?” he growls and makes sure he’s watching as his finger moves from the guard to the trigger. “then take my fucking load.”

he forces the gun as deep as he can and johnny gags, his shaking body locking up as he cums untouched; painting the floor and ghost’s boot, cock twitching and pulsing hard enough to bump against his belly and leave a string of cum threading from it to his cock.

ghost watches him spasm and moan, his throat convulsing around the gun and a heated knot of satisfaction tightens in his gut; so close to the memory of an orgasm, he’s almost dizzy with it.

johnny slumps forward, his hands slipping from behind his back, and ghost quickly flicks the safety back on and drops to his knees. he slides the gun away and pulls johnny forward to collapse into his chest, taking his weight off his knees; his whole body trembling with aftershocks.

“you’re crazy, johnny,” ghost whispers, awed, and feels him smile against his chest.

“aye,” he agrees, voice raspy from his gun scraping up his throat. “how else am i supposed to prove that i mean it?”

ghost tries not to tense up; tries not to let hope sink its cruel roots into his chest. “mean it?”

johnny pulls back, his cheeks still flushed and sticky with spilled tears. “i’m yours, ghost; in any and every way you’ll have me,” he promises. “sex or no sex. this can never happen again and i’ll still never stop wanting you. it doesn’t matter to me as much as you do. you’re everythin’ to me, ghost. not your body; not what you can give me. just you.”

a knot crowds in his throat. “and you needed to deep throat my pistol to prove that?” he deflects.

and just like always, johnny lets him. “worked, didn’t it?” he winks. “you fucked my brains out.”

ghost rolls his eyes to hide the softness he knows is flooding them and helps johnny up and gets him into his shower; cleaning him of the sweat and cum and spit covering his body.

that ghost covered his body in.

his chest hitches at the reminder as he strips himself down to a single layer and all but falls into bed, tugging johnny in after him when he hesitates just slightly at the edge of the bed; splaying his still naked body over him, sated and loose.

“i really do mean it,” johnny whispers into the crook of his neck sometime later; when their breaths have settled and synced.

ghost sweeps his fingers up and down the length of his spine, skin he’s never seen. skin he now knows every inch of. “i know you do,” he whispers back.

and for once, he thinks it might be enough.

[eyedoeluhn]

One of my most beloathed cauldron mischaracterizations is of the wealth hording indulgent lazy dragons. Like, no I don't think cauldron sacrifices the betterment of the planet for riches and power and wine and lounges around playing with money. Utilitarianism taken to the total extreme tends to have you discard dreams of personal satisfaction quite early. Ah yes, eidolon legend and alexandria frequently spend time in lavishly decorated rooms within the compound comparing jewels and expensive wine pairings. I'd love for you to show me your thought process over a glass of said wine actually i have some in my cellar if you'd come down and take a look.

[dollopole]

Oh my god, so this is how it feels. I just felt my heart make an hole in my chest.

I was looking for fics, and I came upon this:

“AI made this.”

GET THE FUCK OUT! FUCK OFF, AND STICK THAT FUCKING AI UP YOUR FUCKING BUTTHOLE, AND RUN WITH TWO FINGERS INSIDE YOUR NOSE, AND SHIT YOURSELF, YOU FUCKING FUCK!

GET AI OUT OF FANDOMS, FOR FUCK’S SAKE!

[shieldofiron]

Steve: I'll be there in 15.

[gh0st-0f-luke]

nine excerpts from a transcript of wei wuxian’s appearance in traffic court ft. judge!lan wangji (read on ao3 here)

[aressapereaude]

Happy birthday to Vere~!

MINORS DNI

AGELESS/FACELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

Source: Touchstarved

Pairing: Vere x Reader

Contains: Explicit language, alcohol, strong violence, it's Vere what are we expecting, gore, sex??, monsterfucking???, murder, dead dove do not eat, cannibalism, decapitation, nobody is coming, Leander needs a mop.

It is the fourteenth of November.

The air is cold, the ground is not yet frozen over but you find your steps slipping more than they usually do. It tends to happen around this time of year. Everything slows down, and the days are all over so quickly that you're not really sure if they ever happened at all.

He's hungry, you knew that. He has always been hungry.

The hunger has been eating at him for a long time.

You met him through a friend. Well, they weren't a friend at the time... A brief but uneasy encounter outside the Wet Wick, in which you had fallen for a sly pickpocketing trick, and he had dangled it in front of you like an anglerfish, slowly luring you into the light. You did get your key back, in the end. With some interference of course.

Over time, you realised you had a lot in common. He hated the Senobium with a burning passion, and so did you; They had been lauded far and wide as the best of the best, and once upon a time you had hoped they could cure you, but not anymore. Those gates were too strongly locked and far too secretive to let the likes of you inside. After a while you had simply stopped trying, and you found that the more you grew to dislike them, the more you found yourself spending time around the fox with the hungry eyes.

And at first it was nothing, really, just hanging out with mutual acquaintances and bumping into each other around the Wet Wick, but gradually you began to take notice of the way his pupils thinned to pin pricks when he looked at you, the way his fur bristled ever so slightly when you almost came too close. You noticed how his ears tracked you with a strange alertness despite the cool composure he maintained, and how whenever he gave you that sly smirk, the corners of his lips would sort of... flicker.

The closer you got, the more these instances occurred, and it began to dawn on you, the feelings that you had for him. Every now and then, he'd slip you an extra drink and make a smooth remark about taking you home.

When he did, his tail would twitch ever so slightly, and his knee would grow restless, bouncing under the counter. His jaw would clench, and though he did his best to hide it, his breathing would pick up and heave subtly at his chest. But every time, you declined, wanting to wait for a "special moment" and in an instant it was as though it had never happened. He'd go back to the small talk, the teasing, the joking or arguing and there'd be no traces left of that hungry fox who looked at you with a desperate, secret, hidden need.

His eyes look particularly dilated tonight.

It is the fourteenth of November, and you have bought yourself an extra drink tonight. You've bought Vere one, too. He tries not to look hopeful, but you see in your peripheral the way he eyes you up and down when you're facing away from him. He's being less secretive about it tonight, even taking the time to wait until Leander has left the two of you alone.

(Alone, apart from the horned demon sitting at the end of the bar, keeping keen red eyes on you both, and the Senobium cleric outside the bar. You assume she's waiting for him to leave and take up whatever business he has with the nearest brothel. You have a feeling he won't, not tonight.)

"Happy Birthday, Vere. Let's get out of this place for a while," You murmur, leaning in. His keen ears pick up every word, but you don't want the cleric to catch wind of what you're up to.

A thin smile slits across his face, and he offers you his hand, assisting you to your feet. His expression is dark with want, and the dancing candlelight only paints him in a more monstrous light. You don't seem to mind, though, as your footsteps begin to stumble towards the door.

His sharp claws pull you back, knocking you into him, your back flat against his chest. "I was thinking we could use your room tonight."

Your breath hitches in your throat.

"Leander has the key. He won't be back until-"

"Until I'm done," Vere finishes, flashing the keys in front of you the same way he did back then. And you smile.

Ais red eyes linger on your backs until the very last moment you leave his view. As the two of you sneak off together, you shoot a quick look back to make sure you're alone.

He doesn't move from his seat.

Vere locks the door behind you and tosses the key before he pounces, a mess of hair and claws. There's a calm desperation in the way he rips your clothes off you, and the way you fiddle with the straps around him. The low growl caught in his throat spills forward as he pushes you backwards, teeth clacking against yours and splitting your lip, and the pleasure and relief shudders through him when he plunges into you.

Blood splatters across the hardwood floor.

For a moment you stand there, stunned at the explosion of colour, and then it hits you all at once. The pinprick eyes. The attentive ears. The charm, and the twitches, and the ever so slight flash of fangs each time he asked you to come with him. There is blood on the floor, and it dawns on you with a sickening crunch that this is your blood, your viscera that is now congealing between the floorboards, and it is so dark in this room.

He's panting, moving with a disturbing nonchalance for someone with such a feral look on their face. The arm that had split your belly open twists with another sick crunching noise and you feel it now, the agony as he takes a handful of intestines and squeezes.

You start to throw up, but nothing comes out.

This isn't how tonight was supposed to go. This isn't how you wanted him inside you- but then, he is inside you, isn't he? Making a mess of your organs and lapping up the fluid that leaks from your clenching abdomen, burying his face in your soft thighs...

Only to take an enormous chunk of muscle between his teeth and rip it clean off the bone. The look in his eyes is euphoric, instinctive. How could you be so stupid? Any other time you'd have loved to see him make a face like this. But now, as he shivers with satisfaction, you wish you could have died when his lips touched your lips.

You don't know when your head hits the floor but it does, and you don't feel it. Vere stands above you, violating every inch of your body in his bloodied arms, bits of your meat and sinew plastered across his cheeks and hair, dribbling down his neck and you can't tell if he's fucking you or eating you and you don't think there's a difference anymore because you're being devoured either way.

Your final thought, to your confusion, is Leander. This is his spare room, after all. What's he going to say when he gets back? Will he be angry at you for making such a mess of the floor and walls?

Clinging to life, you fade away to the sound of Vere's sharp teeth snapping through your bones.

[zyanova]

HEY YOU.

STOP WHAT YOU'RE DOING AND READ @decepticonsuggestionbox's TF FIC VIOLATION OF ARTICLE 3, SUB-SECTION 3A OF The AUTOBOT CODE.

Why you ask? Please, consider the following:

Adequate persuasion? Good. Here's the link.

[cuubism]

saw this art of fem jayce at the forge and i was like possessed to write fem jayvik. help

-

Vik doesn't usually go to find Jayce at the forge. Besides the fact that it's quite a walk from the Academy, she considers it to be Jayce's safe space. She doesn't want to intrude.

But today, three hours have elapsed since they were supposed to meet, and Vik is getting a little worried. So she's intruding.

She can hear the clanging of hammer on metal as she approaches, can feel the heat of the forge, and steps through the doorway, curious. Jayce's back is to her as she works on something that clearly requires a lot of brute strength if the way she's going at it with her hammer is any indication, and she doesn't hear Vik come in over the sound of the clanging metal. It gives Vik a moment to just... look. And what a sight.

It's not at all that Jayce doesn't look attractive normally. At work, in the lab, she looks lovely, very smart, very professional. She wears the Academy uniform well. She looks beautiful at galas. Her dresses flatter her figure, her makeup is impeccable. It just... it doesn't do anything for Vik beyond a surface level appreciation. She'd started to think her physical attraction to Jayce at the start had been fleeting, some kind of fluke.

Now she curses Piltover high society for getting between her and this.

Jayce is a mess--but what a mess. She's only wearing a thin tank top instead of her usual long sleeves and layers, and is sweating through it, the strong muscles of her shoulders and back on display. Has she always had muscles like that, and just hidden them? By Janna. Her hair is coming out of its ponytail, falling around her face in flyaway strands, sticking to her neck and her temples, and the bit of her profile Vik can see suggests she's not wearing any makeup, presumably because it would just smear off.

Jayce brings the hammer down again on whatever she's hitting, arms flexing, and Vik starts sweating, not just from the heat of the forge.

She waits until Jayce has put the hammer down to speak, lest she startle her into dropping it on her foot or something. "Jayce."

Jayce whirls around, and then does almost drop the piece of hot metal she was working on, which she's holding in a pair of tongs. Fortunately she recovers in time. "Vik! What are you-- shit, am I insanely late?"

"Yes. But it doesn't matter." Vik walks closer. Jayce looks sort of nervous, caught out, though Vik can't imagine why. "What are you working on?"

Jayce gestures with the piece of twisted metal. "This is just scrap. I just... needed to get some energy out." She sets the tongs and metal aside, pulls off her gloves and puts them aside too. "I can meet you, I know we were supposed to go over the proposal-- just give me a few minutes to change and--"

Vik is close enough to touch her now. Possessed by the way the light of the forge is gleaming on Jayce's skin, she does, pressing a fingertip to Jayce's arm. The muscle is incredible. She feels all shivery in a way she normally doesn't just seeing Jayce at fancy events, much as she might appreciate her beauty.

"Vik," Jayce says, strangled. "Seriously. Just. Half an hour. I'm a mess."

"I don't mind," Vik says. It's possible it comes out a little bit like a purr. She's been half -- more than half -- in love with Jayce for a long time but this, this raw appreciation, this is new. Jayce is sweating so much from her exertion that Vik can see the outline of her nipples through her shirt. She kind of wants to put her mouth on one, or just plant her face between Jayce's tits. Oh, dear.

Jayce gives a hysterical, terrified sort of laugh. "What?"

Finally Vik manages to look up from her chest and into Jayce's eyes. She looks... sort of nervous. Almost scared.

Vik takes a step back. "I'm... sorry. I am making you uncomfortable."

"No- no!" Jayce follows her, hands hovering around Vik's shoulders. "I just. You never--? And now--?"

"Please, breathe," Vik says, and Jayce takes a shuddering breath.

"I didn't think you liked me like that," she says. "And, I mean, now? Of all times? I'm not-- I'm not dressed, I'm a total mess, I need to shower and-- this can't possibly be what you want, at least let me, like, try--"

"Jayce." Vik really hates Piltover sometimes. She's also having Realizations. "Do you like wearing makeup?"

"What?"

"Do you," Vik repeats. "Like. Wearing makeup."

Jayce pushes her wet hair back from her face, looking bewildered. "I. No? What does that have to do with anything?"

Vik touches her arm again, trails her fingers up and over Jayce's shoulder, up her neck, to cradle her cheek in one hand. "It has to do with the way you've been dressing yourself in their colors and I much prefer you dressed in your own." She presses her thumb to Jayce's lower lip. "And comfortable."

She looks like herself now. Not clothed in the finery that suits Piltover's idea of respectability. Or womanhood.

"So you're saying..."

Vik leans up to press her lips to the corner of Jayce's mouth. Jayce, unhelpfully, seems too stunned to lean down and help her out. "I want you."

"Like this?"

"Mmhmm. Don't let them get in your head. You look incredibly hot."

"Okay?" She still seems bewildered, but rests her hands on Vik's hips. "If you say so, I believe you." She ducks her head, nosing along Vik's ear. "You were the one I really wanted to be looking, anyway."

"I am looking." She ought to have come to the forge sooner. "Have you finished your hammering? Would you perhaps like to get out your energy in another way?"

"Vik." When Vik looks up at her, Jayce is blushing, the slight darkening of her cheeks visible even in the warm light of the forge. "Am I at least allowed to shower first?"

"Do you absolutely have to?"

Jayce presses her lips to her cheek. The heat of her body sways in close to Vik, and Vik shudders. "You could come with me if you want?"

Vik hums. "I think I can accept this compromise."

"Alright. We'll go, then." She steps back, offering Vik her arm to lean on. Vik takes it.

Jayce looks surprised. "Normally you don't want my help."

"Don't be fooled. I'm feeling you up."

Jayce laughs. "Oh, okay. Go ahead, then."

Her forearm is, indeed, very muscular and nice to hold. Normally Jayce covers up so much. Vik wonders if she can convince her to start wearing backless dresses at events...

"You're not just trying to flatter me, are you?" Jayce says as they leave the heat of the forge and step out into the hall, a hint of insecurity in her voice. "You actually like me like this?"

"When have I ever flattered?" Vik asks. "I think you should dress like this, how you like, more often." Then she considers. "On second thought, don't. Someone will steal you."

Jayce laughs. "I doubt that." She seems pleased by the comment, though.

"Either way, I want you to myself." She presses her cheek to Jayce's arm, nearly overbalancing herself, but it's okay. It's nice anyway.

"You've always had me to yourself," Jayce says.

And Vik can't deny that she likes the sound of that.

[youngpettyqueen]

I need to talk about Julian's whole thing with Sloan in Extreme Measures cause it does actually make me feel a certain kind of rabid

Extreme Measures is a great episode for the Julian/Miles dynamic and has a lot of great moments with them but I think an underrated element of the episode is how it very plainly shows just how much the Dominion War has changed Julian, and how his morals have shifted into a much greyer area

Julian in this episode is very callous towards Sloan even as he's literally dying. he has no issues violating Sloan's mind, and when Sloan dies, the only reason he actually cares is because the answers and secrets Sloan has will die with him. truly cannot emphasize enough just how deeply Julian fucking hates Sloan, and sheer hatred isnt something we really see all that much from Julian, especially not to the degree he was with Sloan

even with that, though, Julian has never been like that with another patient. Julian doesnt let his personal feelings get in the way of being a doctor, and always treats his patients with the utmost care and his best work. Julian was willing to find a cure for the Jem'Hadar's addiction, simply because they asked for help, even if it meant potentially making them into a much bigger threat than they already were. Julian treated Tain in Camp 371. and, sure, Julian does treat Sloan, but he does so explicitly because Sloan has information they need, not because he has any care for Sloan's life

and I think that- his willingness to violate Sloan's mind to get what they need, and how he didn't particularly care that Sloan died- is a really bleak look at just how much the war has changed Julian and how much it's shifted his moral compass. throughout the war, Julian has been ordered time and time again to compromise his morals. add to that several traumatic events- multiple of which are orchestrated by Sloan- and a slide into deep depression, and it's no wonder he gets to a point where he can do the things he does in this episode

and I dont think it hits him until much later. I think one day, long after the war has ended and theyre still rebuilding everything that was broken, Julian lays awake at night and remembers how bad it got and what he became willing to do, and it makes him sick to his stomach

[cringefailvox]

"i'll just tap out a quick thing for the rain prompt for radiostatic week," i said, unaware of the large anvil labeled LONG, COMPLICATED, FUCKED UP AU hanging over my head

[isacksteban]

Untitled 2 — Marcmarc

Logically speaking, it doesn't make much sense. Marc is literally his boyfriend.

But there's still that nagging voice, that feeling in his stomach that has persisted since the time he was old enough to know about the pleasures that come with touching oneself. There's that desperate need for self preservation. There's still that guilt.

“I'm going to the bathroom,” Marco says, trying his best not to sound suspicious as he stands from the living room couch.

Marc playfully kicks at the back of Marco's shin as he passes in front of him. “Want me to pause it?” he asks.

Marco shakes his head. “Nah, I think that ice cream I had earlier is catching up to me. I might be gone for a while.”

Marc makes a funny face. “Gross.”

Marco forces a laugh before he's down the hall, locking himself in the bathroom.

Marc's has always been attractive, that's a fact that's completely undeniable. Marco isn't even usually a love-at-first-sight kind of guy, but he remembers the very moment he first laid eyes on Marc. Not to be dramatic, but the feeling could only be akin to staring directly at a sun parting gray clouds. Or maybe the feeling of finally surfacing from beneath an oppressive wave in the deep ocean. After dating for a year and a half, and now finally living together, one might think the shattering infatuation would eventually simmer down. But it's been quite the opposite if one were to ask Marco how he feels about the whole ordeal. If anything, the infatuation has become worse.

The guilt burns beneath his skin as he loosens the drawstring of his shorts, pushing the waistband down to his mid-thighs. He can still hear the muffled sounds of the corny action flick playing in the background. Good, Marco thinks, it'll serve as the perfect distraction.

Marco knows feeling horny is normal. It's taken a good amount of years to rewire his brain in terms of not feeling completely guilty about wanting to touch himself. But his history with the church obviously must still have some form of hold over him, because he still can't bring himself to tell Marc about when he gets this way. Or rather, all the times he gets this way. Which seems to be damn near every day at this point.

Being horny for your boyfriend when you live apart is one thing. But living under the same roof has Marco feeling like his skin is constantly on fire. All thoughts that consume his mind is just how badly he wants Marc's hands on him, everywhere, at all times of day. Is he becoming some sick sex addict? Or maybe it's his brain making up for all the years of being sexually stunted. Whatever the case, he just can't bring himself to tell Marc about every single time he has sexually depraved thoughts about the man. So he makes up for it like this, hiding in the bathroom to get himself off.

He bites the hem of his shirt to keep himself quiet as he slips two fingers inside. He's already so wet that he doesn't need to wait. It's quite pathetic, actually, the way this has become so easy for him.

He closes his eyes and imagines that it's Marc's fingers stretching him full. He imagines that it's Marc's thumb grazing his clit, driving him insane.

He moans quietly around the hem of his t-shirt, spit beginning to soak the fabric as he desperately rolls his hips to the image in his mind.

And on the other side of the bathroom door, just a few feet away is Marc, none the wiser, dressed in a simple pair of loose-fitting shorts and a white tank top. The outfit had been so unassuming, something completely normal to wear on a hot summer day. Yet here Marco is fingering himself in the guest bathroom of their shared apartment because he can't get his brain to stop thinking like a horny teenager.

He picks up the pace, adjusting his stance as he plunges his fingers into his drooling cunt. He pictures Marc fucking him from behind, he can almost feel Marc's hands gripping against his waist, and the tickle of Marc's stubble against the back of his neck.

He should probably just walk out of the bathroom and let Marc know he wants his dick right now. But how ridiculous would that sound?

“Hey, Marc. I know we're in the middle of watching cars explode and bad guys getting their heads blown off, but I'm really turned on right now. Let's fuck.”

No way, there has to be some level of decorum.

When he finally cums a few minutes later, the post-nut clarity is enough to humiliate him even without the haunting echoes of some past preacher going on about the sanctity of sex. Yikes.

It's gotten bad. It's gotten really bad. They're in the middle of having dinner with Marc's parents when the sudden need overcomes him again. It's ridiculous, really. Not a single thing about the situation is sexy in the slightest, but Marc's parents are going on about the antics Marc would get himself into when he was a teenager and suddenly Marco has this deep feeling of 'wow, this is the man I'm in love with and I'm learning about this part of him that existed before I knew him and I really want to keep him in my life and I really need him inside of me.'

That's the thought that has Marco awkwardly excusing himself to the bathroom, yet again.

He closes the door quickly, doubly making sure the door is locked behind him before he's fumbling with the buckle of his belt.

He doesn't even need to slide his fingers inside this time, that's how bothered he is. He coats his fingers good and well with saliva before rubbing against his clit in fast circular motions, mindful of the noises he makes.

If God hasn't judged him before, He's for sure judging him now. Your boyfriend's parents are down the hall and you can't keep yourself together for just one night?

He cums ridiculously fast to the point that it almost startles him, leaking over the palm of his hand and into the lining of his briefs. He can only laugh at himself when he struggles to quickly wipe the cum from the fabric of his clothes.

When he finally flushes the toilet paper and washes his hands as thoroughly as he can, he can only hope the timing of it all hadn't been too suspicious.

He should've anticipated this. Four months of living under the same roof, he was bound to eventually get caught.

The thing is, neither of them are really that fond of the kitchen. As much as it strains their wallets, eating out is usually the go-to. Especially when they're both exhausted from long days of work.

But for whatever reason, today Marc had wanted to pretend he was some gourmet chef cooking up the finest steak meal he could muster. And really, who was Marco to say no? It's not like he was any good in the kitchen.

He'd been watching Marc throw down from the bar of their kitchen counter, and there had just been something about the image of it all – the concentration set between Marc's brows, the flex of his arms under his black tee, the way his fingers moved with a sense of skill that Marco just never could gather when it came to cooking – it was all too much. Something primal pooled in Marc's stomach, a flame flickering beneath his skin. A sense of deep possession overcame him. My man, my man, he's really all mine.

But Marc was setting the plates after so much work that he'd put in. And Marco wasn't going to make this nasty. At least not in front of the man.

“I'll be right back,” Marc said.

Before Marc could ask where he's going, Marco was already down the hall, locking the bathroom door behind himself.

He really couldn't get his pants down fast enough. His fingers fumbled with the buckle of his belt, struggling to pull it free of the loop. When he finally managed to get his pants down to his ankles, he awkwardly stumbled out of them, nearly tripping as he kneeled down to reach beneath the cabinet sink in search of something secret he'd hidden there about a week ago.

He found it right where he'd stashed it, behind a basket of spare toilet paper and tucked between miscellaneous cleaners. It was packed in a small box, small enough to blend in with the bathroom supplies and go unnoticed by his boyfriend in the event that he'd ever go exploring for something beneath their guest bathroom sink.

The hidden item in question? A vibrator.

Yes, that's how ridiculous this has gotten. Like some sort of nicotine fiend who hides their pack of smokes behind a windowsill so as not to get caught by their parents, Marco is hiding his vibrator.

It's pretty unassuming, small enough to fit into the palm of his hand with a satisfactory, pink bulbous head. He rinsed it off quickly before putting it to his mouth to generously coat the thing with saliva.

When it was soaked well enough, he wasted no time bringing it to his pussy, spreading his legs and sliding the head of the vibrator between his slit. His cunt was already clenching, wetting itself from the contact of the vibrator, and Marco could only imagine it as Marc's cock that got him this way. He closed his eyes, breath growing deep and rapid as he worked to get himself off quickly, pushing the vibrator through his folds and teasing against his clit.

Heat coiled in his stomach. His thighs shook as he balanced himself, leaning back against the sink. When he finally pushed the vibrator inside, he pictured Marc sliding into him. He pictured Marc fucking him on the kitchen counter, not caring to knock over the delicious meal he'd just slaved away making. He pictured Marc kissing him hungrily, one fist tight in his hair and the other gripping Marco's thigh, holding him open and taking whatever he needed from Marco regardless of how prepared Marco was for the size of his cock.

Marco gasped, trying his best to stay quiet as he rolled his hips, plunging the vibrator into himself at a fast, even pace.

He felt himself getting so close already. So close to reaching the edge that he began to feel dizzy. He sunk down further, widening his legs even more. The angle allowed the toy to push into him further, not as deep as he knew Marc could get but deep enough to have Marco's stomach tightening in pleasure nonetheless.

“Marc,” he cried, head leaning back and knocking against the sink's cabinet door. He was far too lost to even care.

He pressed the vibrator all the way in, to the hilt. With his thumb, he found the switch to turn it on, setting it to a medium speed and holding it there, pressing it up at an angle that set his nerves on fire. With his free hand, he drew lazy circles against his clit, making his jaw drop in a silent moan.

This was it, he was really nearing his end now. He imagined Marc ruining him on the counter. He imagined Marc's thick fingers working over his clit, making Marco's cunt drool over the linoleum and pool onto the wood flooring beneath them.

“Like that?” Marc would ask, voice tight and strained with pleasure.

“Yes, yes... fuck. Right there, perfect. Right there!”

Marco's walls tightened, his head swam with pleasure. His thumb slides the vibrator up to high, and he's right there, right on the edge. So close. So, so close. And–

Presently, a loud thud bangs against the bathroom wall.

Marco's eyes shoot open to find the bathroom door wide open and Marc standing before him, eyes blown wide in shock. Marco yelps in embarrassment, almost crying as he quickly pulls his legs shut. The vibrator slips from his cunt, falling heavy to the bathroom floor and tumbling across the dark wood towards Marc's feet.

“Marc!” The fear has Marco speaking before his brain can catch up to what's happening.

He'd been caught. How could he have forgotten to lock the bathroom door? That was so damn stupid.

“Shit, sorry,” Marc stutters. He steps back awkwardly. “I thought– I heard you making noises. Sorry, I thought you were hurt in here or…”

Marco stands up fully on shaking legs, trying to step back into his pants. Slick is dribbling down his inner thighs but he feels far too humiliated to do anything about how uncomfortable it feels. The vibrator is still buzzing at Marc's feet. Marc's face looks pale.

So this is how it ends, huh? Marc finding out that his boyfriend has become nothing but a sex addict who can't keep himself in check long enough to even have a simple dinner? God had warned about lust, the potential ruin it could have on people's lives. Marco had tried to put that all behind himself, but maybe he was finally facing his damnation.

“I'm sorry,” Marco cries.

He makes for the door, ready to run off and hide himself in their bedroom because, really, he doesn't think he can face this right now. But before he can get past Marc's position outside the bathroom door, Marc's hand is grabbing him and holding him in place.

“Woah, hold up,” Marc says.

And thankfully, he doesn't sound angry. Despite the wave of prickly heat beneath Marco's skin, he can at least feel okay that Marc doesn't seem upset. But is the look of confusion he holds on his face completely better?

“What's this all about?” Marc asks. He picks the vibe off the floor. Marco cringes internally as the thing keeps buzzing resiliently, covered in the sheen of his slick.

“I'm–” Truthfully, Marco isn't even sure what to say.

“Your cooking made me horny,” didn't exactly sound like a reasonable answer.

“I didn't know you were into toys. Were you hiding this from me? I wouldn't judge, you know?”

Oh, that's what he thinks this is about? Hiding toys?

To be fair, Marc has never used toys with him in the bedroom before. Most of their sex has been pretty vanilla, and really it's never bothered Marco. Quite the opposite, even. Marc has always made him feel good. And that's the issue. Maybe it's all too good. Too good to the point that all his body craves is sex. It was almost terrifying when Marco finally ordered that vibrator online after having it sit in his cart for weeks debating on buying it. And the fact that he'd had the package delivered to his personal P.O. Box instead of letting it show up at their apartment's doorstep? It's gotta be considered some level of deranged at this point.

Marco stammers, “No, it's not the toy… it's me.”

He takes the vibrator from Marc's hand, wondering if maybe he should just throw the thing away.

“What do you mean?” Marc asks. “Are you okay?”

Marco is silent as he turns back to the bathroom sink. The vibrator's box is sitting on the counter, open and mocking. Marco fumbles to put the toy back inside.

“Marco, what's going on?”

Marc places a hand over Marco's. It stays there, and Marco isn't sure if he should run or stay still until Marc lets him go.

“Talk to me,” Marc says, voice soothing. “If somethings wrong, let me help you. I'm just kind of lost here.”

“I'm really sorry,” Marco apologizes yet again, to Marc, to himself. The whole situation makes Marco feel dizzy and off kilter.

Marc looks at him, eyes softening. He slides the box from Marco's grip, placing it gently on the bathroom counter. He takes a step closer to Marco, still holding his hand.

“What are you saying sorry for?” Marc asks. “Seriously, what's going on?”

Marco takes a deep breath, trying to find the right words. If this is going to be his demise, he may as well get it over with now. "I... I can't stop thinking about you. About us. All the time.” Marco sinks down to the floor, legs nearly giving out from the anxiety of it all.

“What do you mean?” Marc lowers after him.

“I don't know, it's like I'm constantly on fire, and I feel so guilty about it. I guess I grew up being told that these feelings were wrong, and now... living with you... constantly feeling turned on, it's overwhelming."

Marc's expression softens even more as he listens. “You're saying you feel guilty about sex?” He asks.

Marco rakes a nervous hand through his sweaty curls, feeling frustrated at how ridiculous it sounds to hear himself say all of this out loud.

“Yes… and no. Not exactly about sex. I guess, the constant need for it? Like, it just feels wrong,” he tries to explain, but even he feels like it makes very little sense.

Marc pulls Marco into a gentle hug, holding him close. "Marco, it's okay to want to have sex. We're together, I think it's natural to have feelings like that. I mean, trust me,” Marc laughs. “I think about having sex with you too. There's absolutely nothing wrong with you. And I don't want you to feel like you have to hide anything from me. Ever."

Marco leans against Marc's shoulder, feeling the weight of his guilt start to lift, slightly.

"Sorry,” Marco mutters. “I guess I'm just scared you'll think I'm some kind of sex addict or... or that you'll get tired of me."

Marc pulls back slightly, just enough to look into Marco's eyes. "I love you, Marco. All of you. I promise if there's anything that's upsetting you, I want to work through it together. And I hope you'd want the same for me too, right? We shouldn't hide things like this from each other.”

Marco stays silent for a moment, taking in what Marc has to say. It should be that simple. Maybe he's overthinking it. If Marc had come to him with a “Hey, Marco, I constantly think about you when I jack off,” Marco knows wouldn't have judged Marc for it, so why is it so hard to give himself the same level of grace?

He lets out a shuddered breath, trying to get the tightness in his chest to go away completely. With Marc's hand in his, it helps.

“Thank you, Marc. I love you too.”

“Of course.” Marco slightly nudges Marco's rib with his elbow, his face easing into a smile. “I mean, how could you resist someone as cool and sexy as me?”

Marco laughs, pulling his hand from Marc'd to playfully swat at him. “Shut up,” he says, not an ounce of malice in his voice.

Marc pulls him closer again, kissing his cheek before standing, holding out a hand to help Marco up off the bathroom floor. “I guess the dinner I made is going to have to go cold for a while,” he says.

He grabs the vibrator box from the counter, turning the thing in his hand as looks over the label.

“What do you mean?” Marco asks.

Marc looks at him with a mischievous grin. “Well, aren't you interested in finishing up what you started here?”

Oh!

It takes Marc's fingers only a few strokes to get Marco ready again. And Marco, who's still grossly wet from previous endeavors, has very little time to feel embarrassed about it before Marc's tongue is already where he needs it most.

“Oh my god,” Marco gasps, head lolling back against the pillow beneath him.

His hand finds the crown of Marc's head, gripping tight in his hair to ground himself as he angles his hips upwards. His breath goes shaky as Marc's tongue teases at his entrance, dipping in only slightly, enough to have Marco's hole drooling in anticipation.

“Please,” Marco begs.

Marc squeezes his clit gently, catching it again and again as Marco's body trembles with oversensitivity. When Marc's tongue slides up to warm his clit, Marco's body is reacting all on its own, fist clenching in Marc's hair and knee jerking up against his side. Marc groans into his cunt, using one hand to push Marco's leg aside and hold him open at full display.

“Sorry,” Marco breathes.

Marc hums in return, the heat of his breath melting Marco to his core. It's moments like this when Marco really feels insane, letting go of all his convictions and letting Marc take control of his body. It's nice to let his mind slip, muddled in a fog of pleasure. It makes him feel hot all over and wonderfully weightless.

“Feels good,” Marco says, shutting his eyes.

Marc's lips wrap around his clit, sucking softly and kissing against it, longingly and desperately like it's his long-lost lover. It brings tears to Marco's eyes. He feels them rolling down his cheeks, but he's too lost in how good it all feels to wipe them away.

Marco loses the ability to control his moans completely when Marc's fingers push inside. He works them expertly, sliding them with a satisfying ease from Marco's wetness. The vibrator had felt great, but this feeling is unmatched. The way Marc eats him is akin to devout worship. Marvo can feel him in a way that a toy couldn't replicate, fingers crooked in at just the right angle, exactly where Marco needs them to be.

Marco bites his lip, trying to control himself not to come too quickly, but he doesn't really have to because Marc knows him all too well. As Marco nearly reaches his climax, Marc's tongue slightly pulls away, lapping against Marco's clit at a slower pace. Unhurriedly, like he has all the time in the world.

Marco finally swallows the spit that had built up, opening his eyes to protest, meeting Marc's heated gaze from between his thighs.

“Don't tease me,” Marco begs.

Marc fully pulls away with a grin. “Oh, don't like that?”

“Not when I'm so close.”

Marc licks his lips before moving up to sit on his knees. From this angle, Marco can see just how hard Marc is. The full mast of his cock standing at attention making Marco's cunt throbs at the image.

“Marc, I really need you inside,” Marco says.

Possession overcomes him again, that same feeling he had watching Marc cook for him in the kitchen earlier. He pulls Marc into a kiss, uncoordinated and full of teeth. Marc moans into his mouth, gripping Marco's waist to pull him down and flip them over.

Marco renegotiates himself, pushing his legs up to straddle Marc's waist as their mouths move together hungrily. Marco doesn't even care that he can hardly breathe.

Marc's cock slides against Marco's ass, streaking his skin in wet, sticky precum. He wiggles his hips, pushing his ass against Marc's stiffness, finding satisfaction in the way Marc seems to be losing it too, his breath becoming more labored, mouth falling open and saliva spilling down his chin.

“Now you're the one teasing me,” Marc murmurs.

Marco smiles against Marc's lips, but doesn't break their sloppy kiss.

Marc's hands slide down his sides. He grips Marco's ass, kneading harshly into the meat of it, holding Marco in place as he adjusts his hips. His cock slides between Marco's cheeks as he cants his hips upwards, in long fluid strokes. Then he's lifting Marco up higher before settling him down over his cock slowly, pushing himself up to breach Marco's hole.

The fit of it has Marco groaning, drooling over Marc's lips.

“Fuck, you're not wearing a condom,” Marco notes, but doesn't make a move to stop anything from going forward.

Marc forces Marco down to the base, where they finally become fully connected. They both pant in unison, unmoving. Giving themselves a moment to adjust to their new position.

Marco sits up, balancing himself by placing his hands on Marc's chest. Marc's cheeks are flushed red and he has this misty, half-lidded gaze that's got Marco feeling butterflies deep in his stomach. Along with Marc's dick.

“You're so beautiful,” Marco says.

Marc's lips ease into a grin and he laughs, reaching up to cup Marco's face. “You're one to talk, sweet boy,” he says, low and breathless.

Marco pulls Marc's hand away from his cheek to kiss the inside of his palm.

“I love you,” Marco says.

“C'mere.”

Marc pulls him down to bring their lips together again, and this time it's less rushed. A soft peck leading into a nice, languid kiss. Marc's hand slides up to the nape of Marco's neck, guiding Marco deeper into the kiss. It makes Marco's thoughts slow. Marc hums softly when Marco nibbles at his lower lip.

Slowly, Marco begins rocking himself in Marc's lap, rolling his hips and lightly lifting himself on Marc's cock. He feels so full this way, he almost wishes Marc could stay inside of him like this forever.

Marc grips Marco's waist with both hands to help him balance, allowing Marco to take what he wants.

Marco sits up, leaning his head back to give himself more leverage to fully move his hips. He rises higher, beginning to ease into a faster pace. And Marc watches him ride, eyes soft with affection.

Heat coils in Marco's lower abdomen, and he feels his cunt tighten around Marc's cock inside of him. The heat spreads over him, then through his limbs. It's like his body is melting all at once.

“Ah– ahh,” Marco moans, bringing his fingers to his clit as he rocks himself in Marc's lap.

“That's it, baby,” Marc says. His hand slides up to thumb against Marco's pierced nipple, rolling the bud and metal beneath his fingertip. “Keep going like that. You feel so good.”

The speed increases, the wet between them becomes disgustingly loud. The room becomes hot with the labor of their panting bodies, moving in tandem, skin slapping against skin.

“God, I'm so close,” Marco gasps, closing his eyes and massaging his clit faster.

“Cum for me. You're so pretty, baby. Make yourself cum on my cock,” Marc says, voice sending a pleasant wave of heat though Marco's tired muscles.

The heat makes Marco's cunt tighten then relax as a wave of intense, white pleasure washes through him. He chokes through a sob on his release, thighs trembling and nearly giving out.

“Marc, Fuck,” he cries, body going rigid as he finally cums.

Marc fucks into him, fast, chasing his own orgasm soon after. The heat of Marc's cum fills him and it's the first time in a long while that he and Marc have fucked without a condom. The feeling of being coated on the inside with Marc's fluids makes Marco feel wonderfully euphoric. He sighs happily, riding out the rest of Marc's orgasm before he falls forward against Marc's chest. He buries his face against Marco's neck, kissing there and rolling his hips lazily to milk Marc's cock for all he can.

After a while, Marc's moans turn into overstimulated grunts.

“Fuck, that's enough, baby” Marc breathes, rolling them over and letting his cock slide from Marco's hole.

He feels Marc's cum spilling between his legs, soaking the sheets beneath them. It's not exactly comfortable, but Marc's lips are on his again and that's enough of a distraction.

Their kissing goes on and on until Marco is genuinely feeling lightheaded, like he just might pass out. He pulls away with an airy laugh, cupping Marc's cheek to look at him.

Marc looks just as fucked out as Marco feels, but he too has a smile on his face.

“What's so funny?” Marc asks.

“Nothing,” Marco says. “I just remembered our food is going cold.”

[shieldofiron]

🌹

I hope @intothedysphoria doesn't mind me posting a snippet while he's asleep but this is from an upcoming chapter of our Drag Race AU Start Your Engines

[queeranotkira]

Beyond Birthday’s name implies he possessed the eyes before his birth. What, did a Shinigami cram its finger up his mother’s cunt and play around with it in her sleep?

[zyanova]

MORE VIOLATIONS HUMANFORMERS!???!?!! 💜💜💜💜💜

What can I sayyyy :D

I have half baked ideas for rodds but I'm not satisfied with sunny yet so we'll see how long this actually takes and how many revisions I go through